Tybalt started to tumble backward with the force of the punch and the staggering impact of his ribs shattering on top of his existing abdominal wound.

  The dagger dropped involuntarily from his hand. Everything below the neck was agony, and his limbs had turned to rubber.

  But the necromancer could not tumble very far. Volusia held tight to his dagger-wielding wrist, and his hand began closing harder around it.

  Bonebreaker! Tybalt used the power to reinforce his wrist bone. He could feel the strain there, where Volusia’s death grip had been about to break it.

  This battle plan was very flawed.

  He was distantly aware that around himself, Volusia, and Andric, there were a number of beastfolk and a few undead still standing, while only a couple of soldiers continued trying to fight on. On the other side of the firewall, he didn’t know how things were, but over in Tybalt and Volusia’s area, the Army was being defeated.

  But that wouldn’t matter to Tybalt in a matter of seconds. He had trouble really paying attention to anything at that moment anyway. The world seemed to be getting further away.

  Volusia used the hand that wasn’t gripping Tybalt’s wrist to grab the necromancer’s throat.

  No…

  The Commander’s grip began to tighten, and Tybalt swung wildly at the wrist attached to the hand that strangled him.

  Bonebreaker!

  Volusia caught the swinging hand by the elbow and slammed it into the ground. He placed one foot atop the forearm. Tybalt tried to swing up with the other hand, but Volusia grabbed that with the same hand he had just used and simply held it down.

  All the while, the Commander tightened his grip with the hand on Tybalt’s throat. The necromancer twisted, kicked, and writhed, but without a free hand, he could do nothing. He was rapidly losing the ability to fight, burning through his oxygen with every movement.

  “I was wrong, she’ll burn for this, not hang,” Volusia began, his face as close to Tybalt’s as he could place it while still holding his arms down. His face turned crude. “I hope you made the betrayal worth her while—”

  Then Volusia’s expression suddenly changed to one of alarm. A fraction of a second later, the glowing magical dagger that Andric wielded sprouted from somewhere on the left side of the Commander’s chest, at least close to his heart this time. Volusia shook his head and turned back to face Andric, who was behind him again.

  Thank Mudo.

  Tybalt tried to pull free, his limbs all fairly weak compared to what they had been when he had air flowing through him or when he wasn’t bleeding profusely, but Volusia hadn’t relaxed his control of the necromancer at all.

  At the same time, the beastman tried to pull back on his dagger, but with this stab wound, Volusia seemed to have a stronger grip on the blade with his internal muscles.

  “You don’t know when to quit,” the Commander muttered, sounding more annoyed than fearful of or close to death.

  He rose, lifting Tybalt by the throat with one hand as he did so, and then Volusia spun and threw a quick punch at Andric’s midsection. The beastman was too slow to avoid it. Andric half-crumpled at the hit.

  Tybalt couldn’t be certain, but from the look on Andric’s face, the necromancer guessed that Volusia had done some significant damage with that punch. The beastman fell to his knees, sweat beading his brow.

  The necromancer swung his limbs at Volusia, trying Bonebreaker with all of them at once, but the Commander easily avoided the flailing hands and feet. He only bothered to block a strike aimed at the arm he was using to hold Tybalt’s throat. The Commander did that with a simple punch aimed at the elbow of the arm using Bonebreaker. The blow made the necromancer’s arm freeze up for a few seconds, then swing weakly and with poor precision once it did finally move.

  As Tybalt tried to wind up for another set of punches and kicks, Volusia spun and dropped both of their bodies to the ground. Tybalt saw in a rush as the harpy who had been about to strike the Commander passed just over their heads harmlessly.

  Then Volusia grabbed her leg from beneath, got a good grip, and hurled her into Andric. The harpy struck him just as the beastman was halfway to rising back up to his feet.

  The two were suddenly tangled, and Volusia took advantage of the opportunity that afforded him. He reached back, drew his sword from his side, and rushed forward, closing the distance to the harpy and beastman.

  A fireball flew toward his head, but Volusia simply raised Tybalt’s body and used him as a human shield. The necromancer was not in a state to resist. He barely felt the flames that burst around his head. His vision was mostly black. It was hard to focus at all, difficult to gather mana, hard to think of anything besides getting air somehow. Volusia had kept his neck in a crushing hold the entire time he was fighting the three of them. Everything below the neck felt cold and weak.

  Tybalt used Bonebreaker on his left foot.

  I’ll try a kick. Cripple him.

  If only he wasn’t seeing four legs instead of two, it would be foolproof. But the world seemed to be slipping away.

  Tybalt’s kick connected with one of the solid legs, and Volusia tumbled downward instantly.

  “Fucking bastard! Damn it!”

  The grip around the necromancer’s throat loosened slightly, and Tybalt was able to suck in a little breath.

  The darkness at the edge of his vision receded a little, and he saw what Volusia was doing.

  The Commander had continued what he’d been trying to do before Tybalt kicked his leg, moving to attack the two beastfolk, apparently assuming the necromancer couldn’t do much more to him. Tybalt guessed that Volusia’s kneecap was broken.

  But the man rose up on his remaining leg and slashed down at the harpy with his sword.

  The blade cut the air audibly, then hacked into the human portion of her right leg—at just above the ankle, the harpy’s limb became bird-like, ending in the sharp claw she had been using to attack him—eliciting a scream from the young woman.

  “Tatiana!” Andric exclaimed, quickly rising from beneath her. “You son of a bitch!”

  He threw himself at Volusia, the Commander grinned and pointed the sword at Andric, and Tybalt reached up and grabbed the hilt of the spinal cord dirk still sticking out of Volusia’s gut.

  Bonebreaker. That would enhance the dirk enough that Volusia’s muscles shouldn’t break it.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The necromancer tugged the weapon hard to the side in a disemboweling motion.

  “Mother of Kur!” Volusia swore. His hand released the sword, and he twisted and turned a hate-filled glare on Tybalt.

  The bastard pulled his dirk free, and at the same moment, Andric lunged in, attacking unarmed.

  Volusia’s eyes darted back and forth between his opponents for a fraction of a second, unable to choose one, paralyzed for a moment by the two threats.

  Then a large fireball struck him, impacting from the face all the way down to the collarbone. The Commander, thoroughly engulfed in flames, seemed to drop his guard. His arms still moved defensively, but there was no direction to it. All his battle cunning had disappeared, and he was swinging blindly.

  Tybalt stabbed deep into the left side of Volusia’s chest. At the same time, Andric grabbed the blade he still had embedded near Volusia’s heart, and he pulled sideways. Both men cut into the Commander’s most vital organ, their blades overlapping inside the wounds.

  At the same time, a half-dozen zombies appeared at the edges of Tybalt’s field of vision.

  Oh, now you’re fucking available? Tybalt thought irritably.

  The necromancer turned to look at them. He barely had the strength left to move his neck, but he had no other tasks pressing now that Volusia was dead.

  The monsters were all much worse for wear, he had to admit. They were missing arms and legs in almost every case, and one had his head on sideways, as if his neck had been partially snapped. But they also seemed to be stronger. He could sense that these monsters, having made it through the skirmish to this point, had each gained multiple levels.

  But Tybalt was far from the kind of condition where he could appreciate that.

  “I’ll still—”

  The necromancer’s attention was pulled back to the Commander as Volusia spoke a fragment of a sentence.

  The man collapsed to his knees as Tybalt watched him.

  “I still, you won’t get away,” Volusia rasped. “You—I’ve done for you, Tybalt—” Volusia pointed at Tybalt’s abdomen, the place from which the necromancer was still bleeding profusely. “I still inflicted… a fatal… wound. The gods know I’ve done for you, bastard. You’re… you’re dead.”

  “I wouldn’t want to trade with you,” Tybalt managed, his voice a rasp.

  Volusia toppled over onto his back and lay still.

  That’s great, Tybalt thought. Sounds good. I think I’ll take that long range Mystic Blast thing now. Not sure I like being an up close and personal fighter type anymore. Need to look at my other options for ranged attacks, if there are any.

  The necromancer was vaguely aware that he was thinking wandering nonsense. He felt very lightheaded, though, so this was probably all his brain was up to at the moment.

  He heard Mariella’s voice in a distant but loud and commanding shout.

  “Commander’s dead! Retreat!”

  Beyond the wall of flame she had erected, he wondered if he sensed movement.

  Either that, or it was just his imagination and perhaps a flicker of the wind.

  Did we win? Tybalt wondered. He had lost track of the rest of the battle, but his undead seemed to have done their duty, even if some of that had kept them from helping him when he needed it. Even if we didn’t, somehow I don’t think I can fight anymore either way.

  “Continue to help the beastfolk,” he ordered silently. “Kill any other humans left in the village besides me and Mariella.”

  Tybalt coughed and felt anew the bruises to his throat, the stab wound to his abdomen, the broken ribs, the burns to his face, the mana depletion, the stamina depletion, and the pounding headache from both of those as well as from oxygen deprivation.

  As the adrenaline flooded out of his body, Tybalt collapsed to his knees.

  I accomplished the mission as far as I could. The rest is up to someone else… I really don’t think I can move.

  He didn’t know how long he was on his knees, numb and immobile, before he heard a sound.

  “Thank you for fighting alongside us… human,” said Andric’s voice from far away. There was an air of finality to it, as if the skirmish was actually over. His shadow loomed over Tybalt.

  Right, I guess the soldiers did listen to Mariella call the retreat, Tybalt thought. I… I hope she didn’t go with them just because she called the retreat. I want her close to me. Unless she wants to arrest me and take me back to the Kingdom. Then I want her as far away as possible. But don’t go back with them. Those guys won’t trust you if even a single person figures out you helped me. Even if they didn’t, they’ll eventually realize you’re not like Volusia. You’re the kind of officer who won’t let them get away with anything. They’ll mutiny. They’ll—

  The necromancer realized he was lying down now. When did that happen? Wasn’t I on my knees? He also belatedly realized that Andric was still talking, almost rambling, and looking at Tybalt as if he expected a response.

  Right, where were we in the conversation?

  “Er, I mean, esteemed necromancer,” Andric was saying. “Thank you. The seer was right about you. I will remember what you’ve done for our people. All of us will remember. Without you, your creatures, and your companion, I can see it would not have been a victory.”

  Are you eulogizing me, Andric? the necromancer wondered. I’m not ready to go into my grave yet.

  “Victory?” Tybalt croaked. “Today. I guess today is like a victory. We saved your village. But it’s far from over. We just started a war, you know? Killed off dozens of the Kingdom’s soldiers. They won’t take that lightly once they know. We just… we’ll have to prepare… have to…”

  I’m rambling. Not a good first impression. Just shut up.

  “Are you… all… right?” The words from Tybalt’s conversational partner seemed to come more slowly.

  Perhaps he’s dull-witted. I explained it clearly enough, right? Even if I rambled a little. And whether I’m all right might be the dumbest question I ever… I… It’s so cold. Why is it… so cold?

  Another voice, female, but not one Tybalt recognized. The harpy’s?

  “His wound, the stomach, looks serious,” she said in a muffled voice.

  It looks serious even to them… Right. Don’t know why the fox didn’t notice it. Fool. Maybe… maybe I’m dying. He tried to think of how he would survive, but in that moment, all the caring seemed to have drained out of his body along with the blood. It would be nice to see someone I cared about before I die. Mariella? Vidalia? Brandy? Ma? I’ll… I’ll take any of you.

  But it was just these two strangers.

  “Do we have any health elixir left?” Andric asked. “He saved our lives…” There were more, muffled words, for some reason, including “hero.”

  “We used it all on the wounded already…”

  Why do they sound so distant? Tybalt wondered. Is it them or my ears? Did some time pass? What do you mean you already used up your elixir?

  “Why are you two speaking so quietly?” the necromancer asked. He was aware that he was slurring his speech slightly, though he hadn’t had anything to drink. He reached down to the stomach wound the woman had just been talking about. It felt hot and very wet. “That’s not right… this wasn’t bleeding nearly so much before, I swear. It…”

  No, it had been bleeding just as badly earlier. He’d just been forced to leave it that way.

  I never asked the angel… do the dead dream? If I die here, would I even want to? Wouldn’t my dreams be filled with regret? He gritted his teeth again. The pain was still there, just buried beneath the cold and numb. A wave of it almost brought tears to his eyes.

  I’m sorry, Vidalia. We never got to meet after all. Guess your prophecy was wrong. Hope you find someone who makes you happy. Sorry, Mariella. I lied to you for so long… all for nothing. Sorry, Brandy. Sorry for the unanswered question. You deserved better. Sorry, Ma. I… I couldn’t do it. You deserved to be avenged.

  A little moisture beaded in his eyes, but he blinked it away. He didn’t want to cry at his own death. Maybe Mariella and Vidalia would, but that wasn’t for him.

  He opened his mouth but found that he lacked the strength to speak. A shadow blocked the sun overhead. A female, fox-eared shadow. There was something familiar about it.

  Is that you, Vidalia? He smiled. So nice to see you. I’m not dying alone after all. I knew… I knew someone would be here with me. Good night.

  The world faded away.