A body slid down Coradiel’s back. It slumped to the floor with a breathy groan. The arms holding him slipped, relaxed, fell away. Fingers trembled.

  And a piece of bloody wood clattered to the ground.

  Hands scrabbled for his throat, smearing red across bare, unmarred skin. Coradiel collapsed against the desk, sobs wracking his body.

  He hadn’t killed Arlo. It was just a vision. Just the house trying to hurt him. And it was succeeding. The house had beaten him, and he hadn’t even reached Aldern yet.

  “There you- oh my gods!”

  Coradiel looked up. Kaesi stood in the doorway — it was Kaesi, right? He could feel blood crackling against his neck… but he hadn’t cut himself. Where was-

  “ARLO!”

  The catfolk lay on the floor, blood gushing from a wound in his chest. Coradiel dropped out of his chair to plant his hands over Arlo’s wound. Part of him expected his hands to pass through the amurrun, for Arlo to vanish the instant they touched… but no, he was solid.

  He was real.

  “Shelyn have mercy! Arshea, grant me your healing hands!”

  Coruscating warmth passed from his hands, flowing steadily into the amurrun. Around Arlo’s neck, a scarf wrapped tightly — the same scarf Coradiel had picked up from downstairs. The paladin grabbed the scarf, wrenching it away from Arlo’s throat. How it had wrapped around the amurrun was beyond him, but he could see it restricting his air flow — the wound itself certainly wasn’t enough to leave Arlo unconscious.

  “What are you doing?!” Kaesi snapped.

  Her sword unsheathed. Coradiel lunged, slamming the halfling against the wall.

  “You will not touch him!” the paladin snarled. Gripping Kaesi’s sword arm, he squeezed until she dropped the rapier. It fell with a clatter that cut through Kaesi’s cry. “You will never touch him!”

  “Coradiel. Release her.”

  Standing up, Coradiel whirled on the Deer, standing between the druid and Arlo.

  “If either of you touch him, I will smite you where you stand!”

  “I do not need to touch in order to kill,” the Deer pointed out. “But we have more important matters to take care of. There are ghouls in this house.”

  Arlo coughed behind Coradiel. The paladin knelt down, one hand on the hilt of his estoc, the other reaching for Arlo’s hand. Their hands met, squeezed lightly.

  “You stabbed me….” the amurrun coughed out.

  “I didn’t know it was you,” Coradiel breathed. “I’m so sorry, Arlo. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

  “How did you even get here?” Kaesi demanded, picking up her sword with a wary glance at Coradiel.

  “Turns out… ghouls don’t know… how to… handle… levitation.” Arlo sat up slowly, supported by Coradiel. “Hid out here… when I got away… to stay away from… Ushara….”

  He rubbed at his throat.

  “You’re safe now,” Coradiel promised, wrapping his arms around the amurrun.

  “As safe as someone… can be in a… lich-infested house.” Arlo cleared his throat again.

  “Lich?” the Deer demanded, turning his masked gaze on Arlo.

  The amurrun nodded.

  “Vorel Foxglove. He tried to become a lich. His spirit’s causing all… all this shit.”

  At this moment, Coradiel didn’t care. The lich could be amassing an army of the dead, and the paladin wouldn’t care. All that mattered was that Arlo was okay. Arlo was safe.

  Arlo was okay.

  He was more than surprised at that fact. The Deer wasn’t trying to kill him. Kaesi kept side-eying him, but even she hadn’t drawn her sword against him. Yet.

  In fact, other than the ghosts trying to make them kill themselves, Arlo was having a pretty okay day. Sure, the environment could use some work. He could be exploring with people who didn’t want him dead. He could have not been stabbed by his lover. But after the day he had — scurrying around while invisible, hiding from anyone and everyone — Arlo was just happy to be healthy and whole.

  They traipsed up a flight of stairs, eliciting shrieks and groans from the ancient floorboards as they walked. Coradiel took point, with Arlo bringing up the rear. The amurrun held his musket in a choked-up grip — there was no space to wield the weapon up here. He was entirely reliant on the others to fight for him if they ran into a ghoul.

  A shriek rent the air as they turned a corner. Arlo’s fur stood up, and he gripped his musket tighter. Before him, Kaesi whimpered, and even the Deer seemed perturbed by the scream.

  “Revenant,” the druid said, touching the pommel of his scimitar. “Someone has returned for their murderer.”

  “What do we do?” Kaesi breathed. Her eyes bored into the Deer, who took another step forward, and then another.

  “We find it and release it from its prison.”

  Arlo was not okay.

  Fingers trembled as he searched through his spellbook, almost tearing the paper. Intermittent screams shattered the deathly still of the attic, and whimpering cries echoed from the room behind this locked door. By the Deer’s account, there was an undead beyond, one who ached to get its hands around the throat of its murderer. If they got in its way, it would slaughter them all in its quest.

  And they were going to set it free.

  “Iesha,” Coradiel named the revenant suddenly. “Everyone else is dead, except Aldern’s sisters, and they are far from here. Someone killed Iesha, and she wants her revenge.”

  “Aldern said his wife was dead,” Arlo said, pausing his search. Deep breaths. “Do you think he murdered her?”

  “There’s a good possibility,” Coradiel agreed. “That must have been the blood from the library.” He held up the scarf that had tried to strangle Arlo. The catfolk shuddered, instinctively raising his hand to his bruised throat. “This must have been hers. Aldern brained her with the bookend, and when it broke, he strangled her.” The paladin shrugged. “That’s my guess anyway.”

  Arlo found the spell he was looking for. A moment’s study solidified the spell in his mind, and he stood up, tucking his book away.

  “Are we sure about this?” he asked, glancing at Coradiel.

  To his annoyance, the Deer answered, “Yes. Remember, do not attack her. Let her pass, and we can follow her to whoever is responsible for this.”

  Arlo stared at Coradiel. The paladin nodded, just the slightest dip of his chin.

  Taking another deep breath, Arlo held his hand to the doorknob.

  “[Knock].”

  He felt the magic seep into the lock, lifting and lowering tumblers, straining against metal rusted shut.

  CLICK!

  He jumped.

  Beside him, Coradiel reached forward. The paladin pushed the door open, one hand on the pommel of his estoc.

  The room beyond was cold, dark, damp. A rotting armoire sat beside the far wall. Across from the wardrobe, a small window looked out over the cliffs, nestled within the sloping roof.

  But what stood out the most was a full mirror wreathed in dark wood covered in carved roses. Before the mirror, a pale woman lay, head tucked into herself. She screeched at the mirror, a clawed hand scrabbling fruitlessly at her gruesome reflection.

  Coradiel stepped forward. Arlo lunged, grabbing the paladin’s hand.

  “Don’t!”

  “The mirror. It’s torturing her.” Coradiel pulled his hand free, and stepped toward the revenant.

  He lifted the mirror, turning it around to face the wall. Arlo yelped as the revenant lunged toward the paladin. Iesha’s hands wrapped around Coradiel’s throat. The paladin fought back, trying to break free from the undead creature.

  Arlo’s musket levelled, only to be lowered by an insistent hand.

  “Don’t! If you attack her, we’re all in trouble!” the Deer said.

  “But she’s going to kill him!”

  “Her scarf!” Kaesi called out. “Drop it!”

  Coradiel’s hand dropped. He pulled the rich fabric from where it hung in his pocket, and threw it to the ground.

  Instantly, the revenant’s hands withdrew. She pounced on the scarf with another ear-splitting shriek, tearing the article to shreds.

  “ALDERN! I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR!” Spinning, Iesha shoved past Arlo. The catfolk bounced off the wall with a thunderous crack, but the revenant ignored his cry of pain. “YOU’LL BE IN MY ARMS SOON!”

  She swept from the attic.

  Coradiel’s hand pulled Arlo back to his feet, healing warmth washing through him.

  “Come on!” the paladin urged, racing after the revenant.

  They tore down the stairs, always just keeping Iesha in sight. Around and around they ran until they reached the ground floor.

  The Deer froze suddenly, causing Arlo to slam into his back.

  “Down!” the druid roared, throwing himself to the ground.

  “What?!”

  The amurrun stared in shock as the Deer rolled on the floor as though trying to put out a fire. The Deer screamed in pain — the first time Arlo had heard anything but confidence in his voice.

  “It’s not real,” Coradiel said. Not that it seemed any comfort to the druid. He lay on the floor, twitching as he stared up at the ceiling.

  “Fire… manticore… the manticore….”

  Arlo looked at the centrepiece of the trophy room. It still stared at the front door, perfectly still. As far as Arlo could tell, it hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Get up,” the amurrun grumbled, stepping past the Deer.

  The sound of scratching and wood shattering sounded to the right. Iesh tore at the mouldy flooring, ripping open a large hole. As Arlo watched, the revenant dropped into the floor.

  “She’s getting away!!” Arlo called, racing to the hole. “[Levitate]!”

  He jumped into the opening, letting himself descend slowly until his feet touched a stone floor. “[Light]!”

  Piles of dirt and rubble lined the walls of the square room he stood in, along with several ruined pickaxes. The floor in the middle of the room had been torn up to reveal ancient stone stairs. Rot poured from the stairway, infusing Arlo’s nose with the most unholy stench he’d ever smelled. Chill air only served to drive the malicious odour deeper, blowing into his face.

  Of Iesha, only the sound of her shriek could be heard, echoing through the stairwell.

  A loud crash sounded to his right. Arlo spun around to find Kaesi picking herself up from the ground.

  “A levitation spell would have been very handy right now,” the halfling grumbled.

  “Try not being my mortal enemy and maybe I’ll share my magic with you,” the amurrun retorted.

  The two stared daggers at each other. Suddenly, a body dropped between them, landing easily on his feet. Coradiel shook the impact of the fall off, looking up for the Deer to join them.

  As they waited, Arlo loaded his musket. The stairs would be treacherous for him, but he hoped whatever lay beyond would be large enough for him to fight through.

  Finally, the Deer dropped through the ceiling. Adjusting his mask casually, he motioned toward the stairs. Large angry burns lined his hands, and Arlo’s heart dropped. Had the man really been on fire? No… no, he would have seen something. But where did the burns come from?

  “[Abundant Ammunition]. [Arcane Weapon: Flaming Burst]. [Mage Armour]. [Mage Armour]. [Shield].”

  Buffs placed, Arlo motioned for Coradiel to push into the staircase. The group followed quietly, trailing after the screams of Iesha. Arlo kept his light high, making sure no one slipped as they descended nearly thirty metres into a dark, dripping limestone cavern.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Swathes of black and midnight blue mould clung to the walls, creeping across the floor in tangled, unnatural spirals. More rubble lay scattered along the floor, adding to the treacherous footing. Arlo even picked out a few broken bones, picked clean of their meat by some creature.

  A creature he could hear breathing rhythmically, in and out, washing through the caverns almost like-

  “The sea,” he said with a breathless laugh. “It’s the ocean washing against the walls below us.”

  He saw Kaesi relax at the words- only for her to scream as a ghoul lunged out of the dark.

  Swords unsheathed instantly, as the Deer and Coradiel moved to intercept the undead creatures crawling toward them. Arlo counted seven of the beasts… but more were about to join the party.

  CRACK!

  Smoke puffed from his musket. A ghoul fell back, its face missing. Arlo’s ears rang, silencing any other sound the ghouls or his companions made. He reloaded frantically.

  Swords flashed in the mage-light. White dust billowed as claw and blade struck walls, quickly obscuring Arlo’s vision. He switched to magic, aiming toward a hungry groan.

  “[Disrupt Undead]!”

  A coruscating ray of positive energy sped from his musket, smiting a ghoul in the back. The creature turned away from whoever it was attacking, casting ravenous eyes on the catfolk. Desperately, Arlo levelled his musket again… but before he could loose another spell, a sword sprouted from the ghoul’s chest.

  Coradiel turned from the destroyed creature, narrowly dodging an unseen claw. Breathing a relieved sigh, Arlo swept his musket in an arc.

  “[Breeze]!”

  The ambient wisp of wind grew, turning into a gentle breeze that swept the limestone cloud past Arlo. It also blew the stench of the decaying ghouls right into his face, but he could deal with that. At least the catfolk could see now.

  Four ghouls remained standing. Picking one behind Kaesi, Arlo cast another cantrip, striking the undead. Another corpse fell, and another.

  And then they heard it.

  Claws scraped against stone. Groans filled the air. Whispers of “Food!” echoed through the cavern. And the stench of rot grew until it overwhelmed everything else.

  “Ghast!” Kaesi warned.

  “Ghasts,” the Deer corrected.

  Out of the dark, four undead goblins scrambled, leaping into the fray with frenzied shrieks. Kaesi screamed as corpses piled onto her. Swords flashed, blood flew, and the ghasts moved on, setting their sights on Coradiel.

  “No!” Arlo levelled his musket again. “[Burning Arc]!”

  Fire leapt from his barrel, bouncing between ghast and ghoul. Bodies dropped, smoke wisping from corpses… and still two ghasts leapt at Coradiel.

  He dodged them with ease. Tucking a hand behind his back, the paladin settled into a wary stance. The ghasts attacked together, claws outstretched. Coradiel turned away from their attacks. A blade ran one through, withdrawing with a quick wrist-flick to turn on the other. Backing away, Coradiel adjusted his stance.

  “[Disrupt Undead]!”

  The ghast Coradiel had damaged dropped like a stone under Arlo’s onslaught. The Deer stepped around the other, flanking it. Together, Coradiel and the Deer backed the last ghast into a corner, hacking and stabbing until the undead was just another corpse on the ground.

  Arlo rushed forward, eyes scanning Coradiel desperately. A bite here, a claw mark there…. Coradiel didn’t seem to notice the wounds. His eyes were glued to the unmoving halfling body.

  The paladin knelt beside Kaesi. A finger brushed against her throat. A moment later, Coradiel shook his head.

  Arlo wasn’t sure he felt the right thing. He should be remorseful. A member of his team had just died. Yet all he felt was relief. That was one less person trying to kill him.

  “I will take care of her,” the Deer said, stepping past the halfling. “She will be back on her feet in a few hours.”

  And there it was. So much for feeling safe.

  Coradiel pushed past them, taking point once more. They approached a split in the cavern, and the paladin paused. Somewhere in the distance, Iesha screeched.

  “That was from the north,” the Deer said as the group looked down three different paths. “We should go down the far right.”

  “And you expect us to trust you?” Arlo growled.

  “I want to destroy this undead just as much as you do,” the Deer said. “I will need to perform an exorcism on this cavern. You can make your escape then; it will take me over a day to cleanse the house.”

  “We have little choice, and Iesha is getting away,” Coradiel pointed out.

  Gritting his teeth, Arlo motioned down the narrow fissure.

  Coradiel went first, passing sideways through the crevasse. The Deer only followed once Coradiel called that it was safe to do so.

  “Wait!”

  The Deer froze halfway through the passage.

  “I can see the light from the middle passage too,” Coradiel called.

  Snickering, Arlo made his way down the much wider passage, keeping his musket high to make sure its light shone as much as possible.

  They waited on the far side for the Deer to catch up.

  And waited.

  Sudden light flickered from within the tunnel the Deer had taken. Flames licked over the mould on the walls, racing toward Arlo and Coradiel before burning out a foot from them. Slowly, the druid emerged from the tunnel, adjusting his ever-present mask.

  “Yellow mould,” he said. “Too dangerous to be left alone. How did you not feel the spores attack you?”

  Coradiel shrugged.

  “Arshea protected me,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

  They continued through the cave system, following Iesha’s cries and the growing sound of a door rattling. What a door was doing in a cavern was beyond Arlo, but at this point, he was too mentally exhausted to question anything about this place.

  The tunnel opened into a vertigo-inducing pit. Water sloshed nearly twenty metres below them, and a vaulted ceiling stood ten metres above, creating an echo of waves that carried through the whole cave system. A stony ledge covered with lichen and mould wound down the pit before them, passing a stone door and the revenant that was currently pounding on the barrier.

  Arlo crawled close to the edge. Waving a hand, he ground out, “[Knock].” The door swung open suddenly, and Iesha charged through, her shrieks echoing behind her.

  Scrambling back, Arlo grabbed his book. He had a spell for just this occasion… but he was down to half his mana. For the first time in a week, the amurrun paused.

  “I can cast [Spider Climb] on one person,” he said. “Everyone else will have to risk the ledge.”

  “[Levitate] yourself and cast [Spider Climb] on me,” Coradiel said with barely a second’s thought.

  “What about the Deer?”

  “I have my own magic,” the Deer said. He cast a spell Arlo didn’t catch. A moment later, the druid scurried down the ledge with nary a care for safety.

  “[Spider Climb].” Arlo tensed up, but the fatigue failed to strike him. Breathing in relief, the amurrun approached the ledge once more. “[Levitate]!”

  He kicked off the ledge, floating through the air until he ran into the wall above the stone door. Letting himself drop, Arlo waited for the other two to join him.

  “Iesha… Iesha, please forgive me!”

  The air beyond the door reeked — a foul mix of decay, mould, and brine. Arlo saw a rickety table within the cave, covered in bits of garbage neatly organised in rows. Across the table, a painting sat on a mouldy chair, covered in blood and maggoty meat.

  Arlo found his eyes drawn to the portrait. A gorgeous woman stared out from the painting, dark hair flowing and a delicate face lost in thought. Blood and rotten meat marred the woman’s beauty, turning her into what almost looked like…

  “Coradiel….” Arlo’s hands tightened around his musket. He raised it, aiming for the main kneeling before the revenant. Before he could fire, Iesha Foxglove’s claws slashed, rending the ghastly face that begged for forgiveness.

  Aldern Foxglove shrieked. Lunging toward the table, he snatched up a sword, slashing desperately at the revenant.

  “Is that my scimitar?” Coradiel demanded, eyes wide.

  “I thought you used a longsword,” Arlo said, glancing askew at the paladin. “At least until you settled on the estoc.”

  “I’m still getting a feel for the best weapon,” Coradiel said defensively. “Shouldn’t we help them?”

  “Which one? The undead or… the undead?”

  The two combatants swung and dodge, trampling through a horrific mess of dark green mould and dripping fungi. At the centre of the patch, a large tumescent fungus grew tall, its ridges and horns sculpting a shape that could almost be called humanoid.

  “You!” Aldern staggered toward Arlo and Coradiel, trying desperately to escape his murdered wife. “You’ve come to me! I knew my letters would sway your heart!”

  “I suggest we help the revenant.” Arlo jumped as the Deer appeared behind him. “If we kill the ghast, the revenant will be slain, having sated the need for vengeance.”

  “No! No, please! You can save me from her! Save me and we’ll-”

  Aldern shrieked as Arlo’s musket cracked. A bullet punched through his once-fine waistcoat. Barely a moment later, claws gouged through his back.

  Coradiel stared at Arlo as Aldern’s screams grew in fervour before dying out.

  “What?” The amurrun lowered his musket. “I wanted to take a shot at him. Do you remember how much crap he’s put us through?”

  Rising from the motionless corpse of her husband, Iesha Foxglove turned. For the briefest moment, Arlo saw a whisper of the vibrant woman in the portrait.

  “Thank you…” the revenant croaked out, before collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut.

  “Well… that was anticlimactic,” Arlo muttered, shouldering his musket.

  “I like anticlimactic,” Coradiel said, pushing through the door into the cave beyond. “It means we’re still alive.”

  Arlo couldn’t argue with that logic. It actually felt good being alive — if vomit-inducing at the moment.

  He approached the table, where Coradiel was already rifling through trinkets — empty potion bottles, scraps of paper, a dull quill….

  “These are mine…?” Coradiel didn’t seem too certain about that statement. “Look at this. It’s the fire-resist bottle from when we-”

  “OKAY!” Arlo yelped. “Moving on!” His hand brushed a paper aside, and Arlo’s eyes widened. “Shit…. Coradiel, look- no, don’t look-”

  “Is that… me?”

  Drawings and paintings covered several papers, each one poor quality but unmistakable pictures of Coradiel… Coradiel laying naked on a bed, Coradiel dancing under a moon, Coradiel fondling his breasts…. Each one focused on his femininity, completely ignoring the aiuvarin’s masculine qualities to the point of giving him back his-

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Arlo groaned. He flipped the pictures over.

  Coradiel stared at the stack of paper.

  “Do you know how long I saved for that potion?” His hand clenched around a vial, shoving it toward Arlo. This one was still full, a dull purple liquid sloshing within. Arlo glanced at the label; Sex Reversal. “And he would undo it all if he’d had his way.”

  “Want the Deer to resurrect him somehow so we could kill him again?” Arlo suggested. “Because that honestly sounds like a great idea right now.” He set a hand on Coradiel’s arm, squeezing lightly. “Look, I’ve dealt with people like him all my life. They’re monsters. They care more about their own feelings than anything you might want.”

  “And what do you want?” Coradiel demanded, grabbing the vial. “If I swallowed this right now, would it make you happy?”

  “Only as happy as it would make you,” Arlo said honestly. “Do what’s best for you. I’ll support you. I’ve lived a life of hiding before, not being who I was. I wouldn’t wish that on you.”

  Coradiel stared at the potion. For a moment, it looked like he might actually drink it. Unstopping the vial, Coradiel raised it…

  …and poured the contents onto the ground.

  “Were the theatrics necessary?” Arlo asked.

  “You didn’t react. At all.”

  “I just told you-”

  “Saying something and meaning it are two different things,” Coradiel interrupted. “You… you really don’t care who I am.”

  “You’re Coradiel. And you know what’s best for you far better than I do. I trust you,” Arlo said. “But maybe we could have this conversation away from two rotting corpses?”

  “Before you leave,” the Deer interrupted, pushing a parchment toward Arlo. “Magnimar needs assistance.”

  Arlo took the offered letter.

  “Aldern… served us quite well… delivery sufficient, debt paid in full…. However there’s another task when you wake from your death. You remember the Sihedron Ritual well… if you have forgotten, return to your townhouse and my agents will remind you. There is no need to disturb the Brotherhood further. I shall provide you a list of proper sacrifices… memorise the list then destroy it. Remember, they must be marked before they die or they are of no use to my master and the greed in their souls will go to waste.”

  Arlo groaned as he read. Masters of masters of masters. And where did The heptagram was a Sihedron, a symbol of ancient Thassilon. And the Brotherhood — a cult if Arlo had ever heard of one — was dealing with a ghast. Troubles mounted.

  “Xanesha… Do either of you know a Xanesha?” Arlo asked, turning toward Coradiel.

  The paladin shook his head. Beside him, the Deer murmured a quiet “No”.

  “You said Alaznist was the Runelord of Wrath,” Coradiel added. “Who was the Runelord of Greed?”

  Closing his eyes, the amurrun thought. The Runelords were governed by the seven deadly sins, so there was a Runelord of Greed… but he couldn’t remember the mage’s name.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. But there was one, I’m almost certain of it. You think this Xanesha is trying to emulate him?”

  “Or their master is,” Coradiel agreed.

  Arlo folded the letter and tucked it into his bag. The Bag of Holding was doing good work so far; that was five thousand gold well spent.

  “Well, if we’re done in here, let’s get out so the Deer can do his exorcism thing,” he said. “We can come back to clear this place out when we’re not searching for a murderer’s master.”

  “Or, we can locate Aldern’s sisters and ask them what they want to do with the house,” Coradiel suggested. “Zeeva and Sendeli. I can look into that, give it a month for either of them to answer, and we’ll discuss what to do at that point.”

  “A month?” Arlo sighed. “Fine. I guess I can wait that long for a reward. No one should work for free, after all.”

  “You sound like a priest of Abadar,” Coradiel groused.

  “They sound like intelligent people,” Arlo retorted as he and Coradiel exited the cavern, leaving the Deer to do… whatever magic he was doing.

  “What about Kaesi?” Coradiel added as they reached the scene of the ghouls’ defeat.

  “The Deer said he’d take care of her, didn’t he? I think we can let her stay here; she’ll be cared for.” The amurrun scowled at Coradiel. “And before you go thinking I’m some kind of monster for not mourning her death, she was trying to kill me. I’m not mourning the ghouls either.”

  “I was actually going to suggest we bury her so she couldn’t be resurrected,” Coradiel said.

  “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Arlo pulled his book off his hip, flipping to a marker for his transmutation spells. A few moments later, he closed it again. “Got a spell so we’re not digging with our hands. Speaking of which, this place was haunted by a lich. Where’s his spellbook?”

  “Why?” Coradiel asked suspiciously.

  “I mean, I’d like to see if he had any good non-necromancy spells in it that I could copy. I could use all the spells I can get,” Arlo pointed out.

  “I haven’t seen a spellbook, but there’s a book upstairs that I refuse to leave intact when we go,” Coradiel said.

  “That’s probably it. Let’s check it out.”

  It wasn’t a spellbook. Arlo watched the pages burn, feeling a little evil for setting the fire himself. He had always been against burning books, but in this instance, with a ritual book devoted to the goddess of undeath, he felt a little more justified in destroying the information the book held. Not much, though.

  As the fire died out in an ashy mess, Arlo looked over at hundreds of ravens sitting within the ruined outbuilding. He hadn’t seen any when he came to the house, but now the birds stared at him and Coradiel, like sentries… or jailors.

  “I don’t think we’ll have an easy time escaping this place,” he warned. “[Expeditious Excavation]!”

  The ground opened, swallowing the destroyed book whole. Coradiel hopped into the large hole and carefully set Kaesi’s body in the centre. Climbing out, the paladin turned back to their fallen companion.

  “No, I don’t expect we will,” he said, tossing a bit of dirt onto the halfling’s body. “May you rest easy in Pharasma’s Boneyard.”

  “Who would want to spend eternity in a graveyard?” Arlo grumbled, pulling a shovel out of his bag. He began refilling the grave, pushing the dirt as much as lifting it.

  It took about an hour to push the dirt back into the hole, fully covering Kaesi up. As the halfling vanished, relief washed over Arlo. That was one less person trying to kill him.

  “Fuck, I’m so glad Aldern left a shovel laying around,” the mage panted, dumping one last shovelful of dirt on the mound. “I think that’s good enough.”

  “You know, you could have let me shovel,” Coradiel pointed out.

  Arlo smacked his forehead, smearing dirt across it.

  “Aw fuck.”

  “Even better,” Coradiel added with an evil grin, “the nobles will want to thank us for our service. You wanted a reward? It’ll probably be five or six hours of talking to stuffy old family heads and trying to avoid being married off to their daughters or sons.”

  “Aw FUCK!”