Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbing July 3)

Dero teleported into the void once Eolas assured her he had lifted his Draconic Law prohibition.

She had what was effectively a small home there, a place she had spent years crafting with runes and her own natural magic.

That was where the high elf hostage was, still just sleeping, thanks to Vidalia’s power.

Dero eyed the girl with a mix of caution, resentment, and simple efficiency. Pale skin, purple dragon scale dress, cute features arranged innocently as her chest slowly rose and fell.

It’s not her fault. She knew that the high elves had done nothing for her people when they were effectively wiped out, she had hated them for that, and she had tried to get over it these last centuries to little effect. But this child was not personally responsible for it.

Dero decided not to even wake her up. As she approached, the little princess didn’t stir. She didn’t even wake when the dark elf took her in her arms, nor when they were back in Whadesport.

“Kamira, thank goodness,” rumbled the dragon once they were outside.

The girl began to twitch at the sound of Eolas’s voice, and Dero quickly placed her at the dragon’s feet and moved backward until she was out of view. She would let the necromancer handle what remained to be discussed.

Tybalt and the dragon had agreed to meet again in the home of the high elves, to make the girl’s family the guarantors of their non-aggression agreement.

I suppose I look forward to seeing your family, Kamira, Dero thought from back where the others - the strongest surviving undead, along with the harem - had gathered. Mainly I want to see the looks on their faces when they learn that I, out of everyone, survived. Will they be relieved? Anxious? Will they even care? I want to see those irreplaceable first reactions.

As she stood in the shadows, the conflict clearly finally over, the levels started rolling in.

“Dero, you all right?” asked Vidalia between yawns. The foxgirl had strained herself, Dero knew, by trying first to put the dragon to sleep, before she settled on the high elf princess.

“I need a fucking drink,” Dero replied. She bit off any further complaints. Every living thing around looked more exhausted or injured than she was, especially after those levels. The sheer unprecedented experience gain had sweetened what had been a night of near terror.

I’ll still complain to Tybalt. He can’t drag other people into his ridiculous impossible fights and not expect them to bitch about it a little.

“I can get you a drink,” said Kistana eagerly. The catgirl, covered in a sheen of sweat, rose from where she lay, slumped on the ground, and began moving over to one of the buildings that hadn’t been burned.

I didn’t even notice there was a pub right here.

“Sweetie, let someone else get that,” Vidalia said. “Did you forget you have a broken arm? And broken ribs? Lay down until Tybalt looks at you, all right?”

“Oh, um, yes, my lady,” Kistana replied sheepishly, setting herself down slowly on the ground, her one useless arm dangling at her side. “It’s really not so bad, though. I could still fire my bow.”

“And we all appreciate you for that,” said Victoria, who also wore a light sheen of sweat - though perhaps more from a night of fear than from exertion.

You crazy person, went unspoken.

There was a sound of giant wings beating, and Dero looked up to see Eolas flying, his passenger still cradled in his front limbs and either sleeping or half-conscious rather than being trusted to ride on his back.

As he went, there was a strange whooshing noise. Dero looked around and saw that the flames still burning many of the buildings were being extinguished. By some draconic magic, the fire was disappearing along with the presence of the dragon himself.

Good riddance, hope we never see you again! Dero thought, though she knew they would.

Beneath those sounds, much quieter, there was the sound of many footsteps treading the town’s streets. One set of footsteps stood out in particular to the dark elf.

Tybalt approached. He had found a change of clothing somewhere - he was dressed in a peasant’s garb, which he had probably taken from some undead - but she paid little attention to that. More importantly, she could feel Tybalt’s swollen aura as he drew closer. He had lost one level to become a temporary lich, but how many had he gained in this fight? Could Dero take him out still, in a straight fight, or would he give her unexpected amounts of trouble?

Nah, I’d win, she assessed. Still… not bad, for one night’s work.

The dark elf turned to Tybalt, and she found him smiling. She didn’t know why, but she smiled back.

That was crazy. You’re crazy. We should never do anything like this again. I need to head for the hills, you maniac…

She was going to give him an earful, just as soon as they were alone.

Only, before Tybalt could reach her and the others, some of those other footsteps reached him first.

“Pardon me, sir, are you the one who, um, fought that terrible dragon?”

The speaker was a distinguished-looking older man wearing a noble’s garb.

“Lord Mayor!” Tybalt said. “I hadn’t recognized you for a moment. Yes, my companions and I did…”

The next few minutes were a furious rush of thanks and congratulations to the great hero for saving the port. There was a small crowd of people who appeared to be the town’s little noble class along with a number of prosperous merchants. All around, the town’s residents began picking up the wreckage of their lives, but only the most prominent people had dared to approach the town’s savior immediately after he finished dealing with Eolas.

The others were probably seeing if they could rescue any of their possessions from the dragon’s wake.

“We had only ever heard of dragons as a sort of unavoidable natural disaster phenomenon, but you drove it off…”

Tybalt and the Mayor walked off on their own for a few minutes, and the ensuing discussion occurred outside of even Dero’s hearing. When they came back, the Mayor announced - with just the slightest hint of trepidation - that the town would be hosting Lord Tybalt’s army here, indefinitely, and that they would do so with gratitude for the “saviors of Whadesport.”

The necromancer stood beside the Mayor for a few minutes, shaking hands and smiling where appropriate and receiving the gratitude of the local upper crust. He didn’t seem as happy with it as Dero might have expected, though, and he excused himself seemingly as soon as he politely could.

He walked back over to his companions.

“Thank you guys so much,” he said tiredly. “Tonight was wild. We’re staying at the Mayor’s house, by the way. His guest quarters should be roomy enough, two rooms for all of us. He seems like he might be useful, so I’m letting him keep his room. Kistana, let me see your arm.”

The catgirl presented her broken limb, and he went to work.

“What was your haul?” Dero asked after a few minutes of this, when it seemed Tybalt was close to done.

“I got fifteen levels,” he said. “Most of them in Defiant Necromancer.”

That was a lot, but not an unreasonable amount, considering Dero’s own gains.

“In exchange, I lost over a thousand undead,” the necromancer added.

Who cares about those nameless, faceless minions? Dero thought. I killed almost half the scorpions myself. You kept every undead that mattered, even if they’re a bit battered… and most of your army wasn’t even in this town! But she knew that Tybalt was quite greedy.

“Did you get any levels?” Tybalt asked. “You did kind of a lot. Much more than I was expecting to need from you, if I’m being honest.”

Oh, is that an admission that a certain someone’s plan wasn’t perfect?

“Yes, I got three levels,” Dero said. “It really underscores how unwinnable that fight was.”

“I… Yeah. I get it. It was, really. Negotiation was the only way out.”

‘You were right, Dero.’ Say it… You know it’s true.

But she could tell he was still torturing his brain, trying to figure out ways he might have somehow won. He had come close to admitting it, at least.

“What about the new skills?” she asked after a moment. “Did you keep them?”

“Some of them, yes,” he replied. “I kept the stuff I got from draining my undead - Life Drain and Paralyzing Touch - unconditionally. But the system said my capacity experienced a reduction after I stopped being a lich, and besides the basic stuff that I was on the verge of figuring out on my own - Mystic Blast, Undeath Drain, Mystic Barrier, and Bone Puppetry - I had to use the skill slots from my new levels. I kept Flame of Destruction, Heaven-Binding Chains, and Anti-Magic Field. So I’m going to have to figure out how to use Mass Generate Undead and Undead Summoning again, I’m not going to have the Lesser Telepathy that I was using near the end, and um, hopefully, I can get you to teach me to Teleport… although I swear, I was on the verge of figuring that out on my own.”

“Of course,” Dero said, arms folding over her flat chest, literally looking down on Tybalt as he finished massaging Kistana’s bones back into their normal shape. “Can’t figure a little thing like teleportation out on your own. I suppose I’ll deign to tutor you.”

He shrugged. “We can’t all live up to your perfection, Dero. Until then, at least I have you.”

The dark elf’s cheeks grew a little hot at that. She knew they were just making their usual banter. He wasn’t even looking up at her as he spoke. It was just something in the way he said the words. Or maybe it was the two exchanges, one after the other. The almost-admitting-he-was-wrong and then semi-ironically saying she was perfect and implying that he needed her.

“Ah, thank you, my lord,” said Kistana, pulling her arm back into her sleeve and buttoning her shirt up. “I think the arm is better than ever.”

“It was my… pleasure, but that sounds odd to say,” Tybalt replied.

Kistana sat upright, and the necromancer quickly bent and kissed her on the forehead. Both he and the catgirl looked surprised at him for doing that.

“Um, sorry,” he said. “You were very brave, and I’m especially thankful to you for distracting the dragon earlier. You and Mariella kept him from focusing on me before Dero could get to where I was. Then you came back despite the broken arm.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, my lord,” Kistana said, quickly recovering her composure. “I was only doing my duty, and if you thought I performed admirably- ” She yawned. “Oh, um, if you thought I performed well, you could- ” The catgirl yawned again. “Actually, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.” Another yawn. “I think I need a nap.”

“You need to go to bed, kitty cat,” Dero said lightly.

Kistana was sweet and gorgeous - and, Dero wanted to think, better than the necromancer deserved, but she had seen too many lords mistreat their vassals over the years for that to work. At least Tybalt genuinely seemed to appreciate her.

He’s really not so bad…

“Yeah, let’s go to sleep,” Vidalia said, yawning as she stepped closer and placed a hand on Kistana’s shoulder.

The others nodded, besides Dero.

“I’ll make sure that nothing else needs resolving first,” Tybalt said.

“I will bring Mariella,” Victoria said, sounding slightly less tired than the others. “She was over trying to keep the fire from spreading to some more sensitive parts of the town. I think there was a little orphanage over that way.” She gestured to the southeast.

“All right,” Tybalt said.

The necromancer looked at Dero.

“Like I said, I’m going to have a drink,” the dark elf said. “Or three.”

The rest of Tybalt’s people - the beastfolk army, at least - had filed into the town as the necromancer worked on Kistana and Dero got the details on what Tybalt had gained and lost from the fight.

The Mayor approached and guided Tybalt’s companions in the direction of his home, leaving just Tybalt and Dero out on the street.

“Pardon me,” said a man who appeared to be a local. “I heard that you are the two heroes who saved our town.”

“We might be,” Dero said, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Would the two of you care to experience one of our local attractions?”