Page 35 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

Iggie’s gut churned. He scratched at his mop of red hair beneath his hood. “Okay…so, what do you suggest?” The paladin hesitated, glancing toward Marlon and Cynthia hovering as always at Iggie’s back, and he suddenly understood. “You want me to order my undead to remain here.”

“It’s for the best. I’m sure you can imagine how people might react if they thought an army of undead was invading their town.”

Alistair had a point—arriving with a dozen skeletons was unlikely to earn him any favor. Still, the thought of going without even Marlon and Cynthia amplified his already frayed nerves. He’d be truly alone in the middle of a hostile village, easily ambushed.

Sympathy flickered in Alistair’s golden gaze. “Look, I know you’re scared. But I meant what I said. I won’t letanythinghappen to you.”

For a moment, Iggie was back in that cavern, wrapped in Alistair’s arms as the paladin held him close as if he were something precious. He swallowed the lump of fear lodged in his throat. “All right. I’ll leave my undead behind.”

Alistair exhaled, appearing relieved. “Thank you.”

He started down the ridge, beckoning for Iggie to follow. Iggie did so, mentally ordering his undead to remain out of sight behind the ridge. They should be fine there, at least for a while.

Shock rippled through him when Marlon and Cynthia trundled after him anyway. He sent them a sharper command to halt, and this time they obeyed. Was it his imagination, or could he sense a hint ofreluctancefrom them?

Deciding it was all in his head, he dismissed the oddity and hurried after Alistair. As his oldest undead, Marlon and Cynthia were bound to decay eventually. This could be a sign of their weakening spirit links. Either that, or he was simply projecting unwarranted emotions onto them. Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if more of his parents lingered within them than he realized, even after all these years.

All thoughts on the nature of his undead vanished beneath his growing dread as they neared the edge of town and found a man standing there as if waiting for them. The instant the man spotted them, he hurried forward. Well…hurriedmight be the wrong choice of word.

Though his step was sprightly, the man appeared to be feeling his age. Frazzled white hair sprung out from his scalp in a crazy mess, and his light blue robes flapped about his hunched body. While the robes were a bit unkempt, Iggie could tell at once that they were of far better material than his own grubby ones.

“That’s Erys, the town’s mage,” Alistair murmured as the man approached.

Iggie’s unease sharpened. So,thiswas the runeflame bearer Alistair had mentioned. The mage looked harmless enough, though his timeless gaze seemed to pierce through to Iggie’s soul.

“Master Erys,” Alistair called, offering a stiff bow. “What are you doing here?”

Erys’ bushy eyebrows rose, his lips quirking into a grin. “I should think it obvious, my boy—I was waiting for our wayward protector to return.” His too-knowing eyes refocused on Iggie, who flinched. “Along with a guest. How delightful!”

He didn’t seem surprised by Iggie’s presence. Was he simply well-versed at schooling his reactions, or was there something else at work here? Surely, if Erys knew the full truth about Iggie, he wouldn’t be so eager to welcome a necromancer to his village.

Alistair gestured between them. “This is Ignatius. He…rescued me from the storm and offered me shelter.” Iggie caught Alistair’s faint hesitation and wondered if Erys did too. If so, he gave no sign. “Iggie, this is Master Erys,” Alistair continued. “Singer’s Rest’s Master Arcanist.”

Erys chuckled. “That’s far too grandiose a title for me, I’m afraid. I am but a humble mage, eager to do what I can to help. A pleasure to meet you…Iggie, was it?”

He stuck out his hand. Iggie eyed it for a span of heartbeats, his thoughts racing. Even if Erys wasn’t complicit in the monster’s attack, he might sense Iggie’s duskflame. Mages generally didn’t possess the same inherent dislike of necromancers as paladins, but he was still a citizen of Khordan. Who knew how he might react to discovering Iggie’s magic?

Alistair cleared his throat, and Iggie blushed when he realized how long he’d been standing there staring. He hastily shook the mage’s offered hand, and Erys beamed at him. If Iggie’s hesitation perturbed him, he didn’t let it show. As soon as he’d released Iggie’s hand, he clapped his palms together.

“Well, then! Best not to keep the other elders waiting.” He spun and hobbled down the street, clearly expecting them to follow.

Iggie glanced at Alistair, who shrugged. Together, they hurried to catch up. It wasn’t hard—despite his words, Erys set a leisurely pace.

“The other town leaders are already gathered?” Alistair asked.

“Oh, yes. I was expecting your arrival sometime today now that the weather’s cleared.” The mage shot Iggie a curious look. “I’m sure you have much to report.”

“It’s been an…eventful couple days,” Alistair said carefully. “I believe I’ve identified what threatens the town, at least in part. It’s—”

Erys held up a hand to cut him off. “While I look forward to hearing of your recent efforts, I think it best you wait to explain it all before the council.”

Alistair hesitated. “Perhaps we should postpone our meeting. My companion and I could use a chance to rest after our journey.”

“I’m certain you could,” Erys said, his tone sympathetic. “But we are all eager to resolve this matter before Dawncoming so that we can focus on the festivities.” He snuck another furtive glance at Iggie. “Besides, I have an inkling the others might not like what you have to say. Best to rip the bandage off quickly, hmm?”

That didn’t do much to bolster Iggie’s flagging confidence. Neither did the looks they garnered from the handful of other villagers they passed. While Erys earned friendly nods and Alistair drew hopeful, almost reverent stares, Iggie was met with nothing but guarded reservation. No doubt they’d condemn him as readily as his old village had once they discovered who he was. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, shifting closer to Alistair without really thinking about it. The paladin made no effort to draw away. For that, Iggie was grateful.

He almost stumbled when Alistair nudged his side, glaring over to find him gesturing at a pole sticking out of the ground along the road. Iggie had been so focused on the people that he hadn’t given the rods more than a passing glance. Focusing on them now, his eyes widened at the dazzling array of colors playing across their surfaces.