“Sorcerer…” one of Dharun’s paltry group of refugees said.

“She’ll flay us and make us into ghouls!” a child cried out.

“Quiet!” Dharun Loemhammer ordered sharply, hefting his axe. Dharun stared at the black haired human woman and her giant tiger mount that now turned and approached them. A giant undead tiger mount, from the look of its ghostly blue eyes and nasty scars that marred its black furr.

The eyes were unmistakable. It was the work of a sorcerer: a necromancer. Dharun had adventured in the past and encountered undead, but this creature moved with natural ease. None of the clumsiness or stiff movement common to its kind.

That meant bad things. For creature to be raised with its natural agility intact was uncommon and pointed towards the necromancer being high Circle mage.

As far as Dharun knew, only sorcerers who were fourth or fifth Circle could accomplish such a feat. Any necromancer who grew that strong without being put down was a terrible threat.

Then there were also the nine other humanoid undead to worry about. Shielded and armed, the scarred constructs stood between the dwarves, the woman, and the carnage overtaking the wolf pack.

The soldiers also moved too well to be weak undead. Dharun’s heart had sunk when they had formed a semi-circle around his group.

There were stories about what happened to travelers who were set upon and captured by sorcerers. Necromancers, in particular, had some particularly violent cautionary tales Dharun knew.

The tired dwarf knew better than to assume to worst but had difficulty raising his hopes about the final outcome of this encounter. The black-haired human sorcerer’s current actions had not been hostile, but Dharun feared her nonetheless. Among the many forms of sorcery, necromancy was regarded as one of the practices most frequented by the murderous, insane, and sadistic. There were exceptions, of course, but they were few and far between. Dharun hoped very much that this was one of them.

It was unfortunate the sorcerer was a human. A non-human would likely have been more sympathetic to the plight of Dharun’s people. Their once great civilization had done much to help other non-humans over the centuries. Now they themselves needed help. Their civilization was in danger of being permanently extinguished. Too many dwarven cities had fallen, their citizens and defenders killed or taken as slaves.

The leader of this particular pack of refugees felt like hope was fading for his group by the moment: Dharun did not think that trying to turn the tables to attack or escape would go well for them.

There was no chance of fighting their way out or attempting to flee. The undead were too many. The horrifying Bison creatures were too fast. Several of the wolves had clearly been magical beasts. Bigger and stronger than their kin. At least one had an innate ability. Dharun himself had a nasty burn along his arm and chest from a wolf that spat fire.

Currently that same wolf was being viciously chomped on by three of the undead bison creatures. One of which was slightly ablaze but seemed to care not at all.

Fire wasn’t helping the beast now, nor were any of the other magical beasts in the pack. The wolves were overrun. Undead bovines were tearing the pack apart with their unnatural teeth and horns. Stomping, biting, and piercing, the bison monsters pursued the fleeing wolves and their retreat became a bloodbath.

The human woman smiled at the frightened dwarves and said something in a tongue that Dharun did not recognize. The woman’s words were followed by another voice in Dharun’s own tongue.

“My student greets you and means no harm. She wishes to speak with whomever may represent the group.”

Dharun stepped forward, carefully dropping his axe on the ground to show his surrender. There was no getting around this.

“Mercy.” the dwarf begged. “Spare the children.”

The necromancer frowned. Dharun watched the black haired human carefully, feeling sick at the idea of throwing himself on a sorcerer’s mercy, but what other options did he have?

The human woman spoke again, and again the second voice echoed out in Dharun’s own tongue.

“My student wishes to emphasize: she means no harm. If there are any injured among you, healing is offered.”

Dharun was distrustful, but knew better than to push things too far. In his experience healing was almost never offered for free. Natural healing was difficult enough to get access to. Magical healing was something that only the nobility or very wealthy could enjoy reliably.

Then there fact that the one who had offered this was clearly a necromancer. Dharun wasn’t certain if she truly offered healing or something more sinister.

There were many injuries among his group of refugees but Dharun was absolutely not going to just hand them over to an unknown sorcerer if he could help it. Still, not providing anyone could end badly if this was a game to force them to hand over the wounded.

Dharun remained where he was. He had to see what the sorcerer’s idea of healing was.

“I am injured.” He said, pointing to his burns.

“He says he is injured.” Lome’Matar told Heidie. Heidie extended her mana probe to the dwarf. He was pretty badly burned. There were some minor cuts and bruises but nothing too extreme.

Heidie cast regenerate on the dwarf and watched in amusement when he fell over and started scratching at himself frantically. Yes, he and his entire group were watching her like they expected to be executed at any moment. Yes, they were clearly terrified, but it was still a little funny.

Regeneration felt extremely uncomfortable and weird. The worse the injury the worse the involuntary twitching of the soft tissue, internal and external. Heidie’s reaction to her first use of the spell on herself had been similar to this dwarf’s but involved a lot more cursing and yelling.

The dwarf stopped scratching and tried to wait it out after a minute or two. Shortly after the healing was complete and Heidie stopped fueling the spell.

The dwarf got up, looked himself over, and then called out to the huddled group behind him. Another hurt dwarf came forwards. Heidie extended a mana probe and the scene repeated itself.

The dwarves were very excited about the healing, talking energetically back and forth to one another. They seemed to really need it as well. Hardly a single one of the group, adult or child, was without minor injury or at least a nasty scratch or two. Already most of the wounds had been treated to the best of the dwarves ability, but Heidie still had her work cut out for her.

The young necromancer felt rage when a child was brought before her who had a nasty puncture wound through their shoulder. Infection was taking hold.

“What did this?” Heidie asked after she got the regeneration spell going.

The leader of the dwarves said something and Lome’Matar translated

“Invaders. He was wounded by an arrow fleeing their city when it fell to an enemy.”

“What enemy?” Heidie asked Lome’Matar. She hoped that she did not need to worry about preparing her home for an attack.

“He was vague. However based on what I learned of this world from the Demon King’s informant, it could only be one of the human kingdoms. There are three separate kingdoms that control most of the continent and have collaborated against non-human competitors. Hvestnir, Oem, and Kaied.”

Heidie took in the information and watched the arrow wound start to knit itself. She’d worry about it later. There was work to be done now.

The last and most extreme case was a graying dwarf with an crippled, mangled, and nearly severed arm. It was not a wound suffered from the wolves. It was days old, at least, and it was quite infected. That dwarf had rolled and moaned on the ground for absolutely ages before the regeneration was finished.

Heidie was getting sick of being out on the plains at this point. She was happy to help out. It was good to see someone who wasn’t dead for a change. The college student hoped she could convince them to stay for a while.

“I came here a little over a month ago.” Heidie told the healed dwarves. “I found the ruins of an old village. You are all welcome to seek shelter there if you want. I will guarantee your protection as far as is within my power.”

Please stay… Heidie thought I’m so goddamn tired of training all the time with no one to talk to.

The dwarves discussed it among themselves for a while. The debate got quite heated but eventually the leader came back to accept Heidie’s invitation.

Heidie, her soldiers, and her herd of tiger-jawed bison walked back to the village. Heidie had a hard time keeping the smile off her face. Ecstatic about meeting with Dwarves, straight out of a story. This was the best thing that had happened to her since she got stranded in this world. The almost-college student’s eyes were filled with hopeful stars.

Dinner was an awkward affair. The dwarves had set up camp a little ways away from Heidie’s dilapidated cottage. Her bison had assisted with the hunting this evening and there was plenty of food. Heidie had come out to eat with her guests.

Quiet murmuring and quickly averted glances marked the meal. Heidie started feeling a bit self-conscious about what her mug and cutlery were made out of. Bone wasn’t the most subtle of crafting materials.

Lome’Matar remained in his backpack near Heidie’s. Heidie didn’t want to try and explain the severed demon head at the moment. A disembodied voice was probably easier to pass off for now.

The leader of the dwarves finally spoke up and Lome’Matar translated.

“My name is Dharun Loemhammer. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality.”

“No problem. My name Is Heidie Melland” Heidie smiled at the stocky dwarf before deciding to take the conversation to a more serious subject. “I’m sorry to bring this up again, but you said your home was invaded. Is there any chance of you being followed by a hostile force?”

“It was the kingdoms of Oem and Kaied.” Lome’Matar translated the grim dwarf’s explanation. “They have been at war with the Rashgur Council for decades, chipping at our borders, taking our cities one by one. All of us are from Mul Borimm. It fell shortly after the night of bleeding skies. No one should care enough to follow us; a small group of craftsmen and families are not valuable enough for the humans to chase us this far.”

“Are there any towns or cities nearby?” Heidie asked. “I’m...new to the area.”

“No. It is a month’s travel to Mul Borimm. As far as I know that is the closest settlement.” Dharun replied. “There was nowhere else to run to. All of the Council’s remaining cities are under siege or under threat of siege. We had hoped to join a village of cat-folk here, away from the war, but I think that they are all gone.” Dharun waved his hand at the ruins. “This has to be it. No one else has tried to settle this area. Not for decades. The cat-folk stopped in Mul Borimm twenty years ago before setting out to claim a new life in these lands. I got to know some of them while they stayed with us.”

“I’m sorry.” Heidie told the somber dwarf.

“It is a dangerous area.” Dharun told Heidie. “There is a reason no one else has tried. We’d hoped that they had succeeded; the cat-folk settlers had strong warriors with them, but it must not have been enough. Beasts must have gotten them.”

Not beasts Heidie thought.

“I don’t know about that.” Heidie told Dharun. “When I came here, I found piles of bones. Enough to account for dozens of people. They were buried in the center of town. That doesn’t sound like the work of animals to me.”

“Were they burned?” Dharun asked.

“It looked like it.” Heidie said. “Many were blackened.”

“Kaied hunters.” Dharun said. “They’ve attacked small villages before. I didn’t know that they got out this far.”

There was silence for a few minutes.

“If you and your people want to stay here, you are welcome.” Heidie told Dharun. “ I understand if you don’t want to, but it would be nice to have more company around.”

Dharun considered it as his group of refugees ate their fill of meat.