Chapter 23: The God of Fate's Gift
A druid offering to help an undead for free and even willing to risk her life to protect him…
Ambrose could hardly count the number of absurdities in that claim.
He snorted. "Don't feed me such childish lies. Such freebies exact the greatest cost. Tell me your real goal, and maybe I'll consider working with you."
The druid glanced around and said, "Let's talk somewhere private."
Ambrose snapped his fingers. A veil of pure darkness descended, enclosing the two of them in silence.
"This barrier blocks sound and light," Ambrose said. "Most detection spells won't pierce it. Now, speak."
The druid's eyes widened. As a spellcaster herself, she recognized the level of mastery behind that casual gesture.
Casting required both incantation and gesture. That was Spellcraft 101. Silent casting alone was the mark of an expert, but Ambrose had even managed the spell in an instant. In battle, he would surely outpace the adepts of the famed Tri-Fireball Order, who prided themselves on being able to cast three fireballs within six seconds.
This undead was far stronger than she had imagined.