Page 34 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

The simple admission eased something in Alistair’s chest. He might not be able to ever balance the Order’s debt, but he could do at least this much to honor the sacrifice made by Iggie’s parents and keep their son safe.

“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll depart as soon as we’re packed.”

Alistair set about refilling the crates they’d already opened. Hopefully, the return of their missing supplies would serve as a token gesture to ease some of the villagers’ ire. He was carrying a stack of unused firewood in his arms when Iggie spoke up behind him.

“You said last night you intended to kill that monster out there. Do you have a plan?”

Alistair deposited the logs and turned to face Iggie, considering the question. “For now, it seems safe to assume that the same beast that attacked us is also responsible for the missing villagers, which means it’s only a matter of time before it strikes again. We need to be ready when it does. Our first order of business is to learn more about it. If we can figure out what it is or what it wants, perhaps we can also identify a way to defeat it.”

A slight frown tugged at the necromancer’s lips. “That seems a tall order on your own. Those crystals you showed me last night reminded me of the light given off by that creature. That suggests that whatever it is, it’s also magical in nature.”

Alistair nodded. “My thoughts exactly. It could be some manner of magical beast, though I’d assume the village elders would have told me if they’d encountered such a creature before. Alternatively…”

“Alternatively, someone could be behind its abrupt appearance.” Iggie’s frown deepened. “But who? That blue aura didn’t look like dawnflame or duskflame.”

A memory tickled the back of Alistair’s mind—shimmering azure magic flecked with silver. “No,” he said slowly. “But itdoesresemble runeflame. And as far as I know, there’s only one person in Singer’s Rest trained in the use of such magic—Erys, the town’s resident mage.”

From the moment he’d arrived, Alistair had found it odd that a member of the Arcanum would choose to live out here in the middle of nowhere. Despite its export of song crystals, Singer’s Rest wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis or a key hub within the Empire. Yet, Erys had also been the one to petition the Order for aid, and he hadn’t struck Alistair as particularly sinister when they’d met. Could he really be orchestrating some diabolical plot?

“You think this mage might be involved?” Iggie asked, echoing Alistair’s thoughts.

Alistair tightened his jaw. “I’m not sure. But I intend to find out.”

fifteen

Ignatius

Iggietriedtoignorethe hollow feeling in his chest as he helped Alistair prepare to depart. Last night had seemed a fair bargain at the time—one night to forget about the past and future both while living in the moment. Yet in the cold light of day, he found it harder than he’d expected to simply let all those conjured emotions go.

Muttering under his breath, he slammed the lid on a supply crate and turned his attention to his undead. He’d ordered them back to help pack. Though the cold didn’t faze them, the harsh elements still wore on their bones, and he bolstered them as best he could with extra duskflame.

Some of his tension eased when he spotted Marlon and Cynthia hovering protectively nearby. He was grateful they were at his side again. They were his true family…in more ways than one.

His gaze flicked to Alistair, watching his gold-armored back as he checked the cavern for anything they’d missed. During his long, lonely years on the run, Iggie had convinced himself he didn’t need anyone. Thoughts of intimacy had always seemed so unimportant compared to finding his next meal or a safe place to sleep. But now that the paladin’s companionship had shown him what he was missing, he didn’t know how to restore the barriers he’d torn down.

Not that he had much of a choice. No matter how amazing last night had been, it changed nothing. Iggie was still a necromancer, a dreaded duskflame wielder. He would never belong.

“You ready?” Alistair’s voice jerked Iggie out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find the paladin standing at the mouth of the tunnel leading from their cave complex.

Iggie forced a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Some emotion Iggie couldn’t read flickered over Alistair’s face. He made as if to step toward Iggie, then hesitated, lowering the hand he’d started to raise. “There’s no need to worry,” he said, his voice gentle. “Whatever the town’s reaction to our arrival, we’ll face it together.”

Huffing out a breath, Iggie squared his shoulders and nodded. For better or worse, Alistair was right—this was the only logical course. He just hoped the paladin knew what he was doing.

The air was bitterly cold when they emerged from the cave, the snow thick on the ground while light flurries continued to fall. At least, a few determined rays of sunlight pierced the clouds overhead. They should have no difficulty navigating back to Singer’s Rest in this.

Alistair took the lead. Iggie trudged after him, bundled up in a thick layer of cloaks and blankets. His undead trailed at the rear, lugging the heavy crates of supplies. They traveled mostly in silence, Iggie occasionally volunteering directions since he’d traveled the route to town enough to recognize subtle landmarks among the monotonous snowbanks.

After some searching, they confirmed that the ravine they’d sheltered in was indeed the same one Alistair had tumbled into a week earlier. Their mad dash through the storm had left them far off course, but they were able to follow the chasm’s edge until they were back on track. Though Iggie remained tensed for attack, his eyes scanning the horizon for any hint of shimmering azure light, nothing appeared to disturb their trek.

The sun had crept higher in the sky, nearing midday, when they finally crested a rise and spied Singer’s Rest nestled in the distance. It was only then that the full weight of what he was about to do hit him. He’d fled to these remote mountains to escape other people. Now, here he was about to willingly stride into the middle of a village in broad daylight as if he wasn’t a wanted fugitive. The last time he’d done such a thing, his parents had still been alive.

Alistair will protect me.

Huffing out a deep breath, he started down the incline. A warm hand on his bundled shoulder brought him up short, and he paused, glancing at Alistair. The paladin quickly dropped his hand and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

“We should try to antagonize the town as little as possible. While I’m confident we can convince them to see reason, the less cause we give them for alarm, the smoother the process will go.”