Boney crossed the manor, following after Master’s mice. Or, to be exact, he was following Boboar, who was following Billies One and Two, who were following Master’s mice. Axehand was behind Boney, the Master strapped on his back, while Headless was right behind, with the final two Billies closing the line.

They were… well, they were many. An entire circus was not the best candidate for an infiltration but they weren’t going to leave anyone behind, and besides, they had Master’s expertly crafted shoes—with those, even Boney’s skeletal feet touched the floor as softly and soundlessly as clouds.

Really, the Master was so kind.

A mental ripple passed through the undead and they halted at once. The Master had spoken to them, told them to stop, and they obeyed. Only the mice kept going, reaching a moonlit opening to the left wall and peeking through it.

It led to the inner courtyard, where their prize awaited—the airship, the Eye of the Sky. Master’s words rang out from behind Boney. “There is a guard, and he’s outside my Soul Severing’s range… What should we do?”

“We can make a run for it, Master,” Boney whispered, then gazed behind Master, where Billy Three struggled to carry the heavenly soft chair—Master’s most prized possession. “Then again, maybe we shouldn’t. If something happens to the Chair…”

“You’re right, we can’t risk that,” Master replied seriously, still not opening his eyes, as he needed to maintain control over the mice.

“Maybe Axehand can rush the guard, Master.”

Axehand gave a confident grunt. He could easily take care of one pesky human guard.

“Maybe… but we’ll have to be careful. These people are innocent, so we should harm them as little as skeletally possible—and we should also be fast enough that they can’t make any sounds. These ones may be weak, but if people understand what’s happening, the town’s guards will flood in at a moment’s notice—plus, there are some really strong people around.”

Boney shivered, thinking back to Master’s description of the nature spirit that fought a death knight to a standstill. Axehand might be able to handle her, but there could be more, and in any case, the rest of the undead—and Master!—would probably die in the ensuing onslaught.

“I think that’s too dangerous, Master…” Boney clenched his jaw. He raised a hand to scratch his gray cap, the one that Master had made so long ago—he loved that cap, though lately, he often wore the party hat for practical reasons. “Have we reached a dead end?”

“Of course not, Boney. At worst, we’ll just have to take a small risk. Maybe we can wait for Marcus to—oh! They just found something. Wait, let me check.”

Master fell silent. A few moments later, he opened his mouth again to let out a silent chuckle.

“A treasure hunter indeed,” he whispered. “It’s a good thing we need that money.”

“Why do we need it, really, Master? I thought taels were useless in the Dead Lands.”

Master chuckled again. “You see, I plan to—”

A faint clanking interrupted them. Boney turned around so quickly his waist cracked, and the mice by the corner were jumping and running around each other in panic.

“Hey, what’s—”

A guard rounded the corner, and his eyes went wide. “Aw, hell no…”

***

George had really been looking forward to a quiet night in the Count’s manor. No necromancers, no nature spirits, no troublemakers or pickpockets. Only him and a long, quiet night on the deck of the old airship.

When he saw a mouse peek through one entrance of the courtyard—George always had good eyes—he thought it was an opportunity to alleviate some boredom. So he stood up, said, “Come here, you little, you,” and casually walked to the opening. The mouse retreated. George chuckled.

“Hey now, what’s the—”

He stepped past the threshold and into the darkness—he looked to the right, and the moment his eyes adjusted, he came face-to-face with the fucking undead circus. He froze.

“Aw, hell no…”

Time slowed down as he took everything in. There was a normal-looking skeleton staring at him alongside its bulky brother, with the necromancer sleeping strapped to the latter’s back—for some reason.

There was a zombie holding its head at chest-level, eyes gawking and mouth formed into an ‘o’, and there were four more zombies carrying furniture—or rather, one of them was carrying a chair, another a toolkit, for whatever reason, a third carried a big sack, and the fourth what looked like random tools.

There was even a skeletal boar thrown in the mix—and of course, these all take time to describe, but George took them all in instantly.

His first reaction was to freeze. The second was to curse his luck that just wouldn’t give him a break. The third was to scream, because he saw the lumbering brute of a skeleton, the one with axes for hands, charge him.

But unfortunately, no sound left George’s mouth, for he was already drowning.

***

Fiona worked as a maid in the Count’s manor. Everything was normal until she opened her room’s door to go to the outhouse and came face-to-face with an army of coin-carrying mice. Heading them was a wide-eyed man with a really heavy sack.

Fiona froze. So did the man.

Then, in a voice that should be reassuring but only came across as suspicious, he said, “Don’t worry; I’m here on official business. I’m looking for a…”—he hesitated—“circus permit.”

They stared at each other for a moment. The man sighed.

The only thing louder than Fiona’s scream was the colossal bang that suddenly shook the entire manor, making Fiona fall on her butt.

The man shouted, “Shit. Run, boys! For money!”

***

The undead stared at the guard who stared at them. For a moment, everyone stood frozen, and then, Axehand exploded into motion. His form blurred in Boney’s vision, but he wouldn’t make it in time, as the guard had already opened his mouth to scream…

And then a tendril of water slapped the guard from behind, unraveling in place to surround his head. The guard’s apparent terror intensified as a small burst of distorted sound left the bubble, and where he expected air, water was ready to fill his lungs. He instinctively held his breath and fell to the ground with a clang, manically trying to claw the water away from his face.

Axehand paused. Boney looked around.

This wasn’t their doing.

“Took you long enough.”

A form stepped out from across the opening, entering the light. She had frizzled blond hair and vivid blue eyes, and she wore a short blue dress with painted flowers and an iron flask strapped to her waist. It was a striking change from the provocative dancer’s attire they’d last seen her wear.

Boney recognized her at once. She was the flower girl, and they had also met her yesterday when she danced for the Count.

“You,” he said.

“Boney,” spoke Master, “handle this, please.”

The skeleton could feel the strain in his Master’s voice. The shock from seeing the guard had caused a lapse in his concentration, and regaining control of the mice would need his full attention.

“Yes, me,” replied the girl, strolling past the struggling guard and stopping before Axehand’s menacing form without a care in the world.

“You—what—what are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you. You’re going to steal the airship—I want in.”

“In?!”

“Yes. Take me with you.”

“We’re going to the Dead Lands!” protested Boney, his jaw clacking.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I want to escape.”

“Escape whom?”

“That is not your business.”

Boney’s jaw moved without sound as he considered this girl, who, against all odds, had appeared here.

“You’re a hydromancer,” he stated.

“Yes. Can we please discuss this later? They’ll come after us anytime now.”

“Are you two going to ignore the drowning person?” Master’s voice came from behind Boney, and his mind was instantly filled with shame. The Master cared; why hadn’t Boney interfered already?

“Stop that,” he said. “These people are innocent. We don’t want to harm them.”

She raised a brow. “They are obstacles.”

“They are just unlucky.”

“He will shout.”

“Not if Axehand slaps him fast enough.”

The girl did not comment further. The water bubble dissipated, flowing back into the flask she carried and letting the red-eyed guard take one desperate, grateful breath before the flat side of Axehand’s axe hand knocked him out cold.

“There,” said Boney, “job done.”

“Now, can we steal an airship, please? We’re in a hurry.”

“Hold on a second.” Boney brought his hands to his hips, finally catching up to the situation. “First of all, we aren’t stealing it, we’re borrowing it. And second, who the hell are you?”

“I’m Laura,” she replied simply.

Boney stared, waiting for the rest of her answer, that never came. “That was not my question.”

“What more do you want to know? I’m a hydromancer who wants to escape to the Dead Lands, and I’m desperate enough to hide here on my own while hoping for an undead circus to come pick me up. Is that not enough?”

“But you’re a flower girl. And a dancer. And where’s your blue feather?”

“I’m incognito, obviously.”

“But why?”

Laura smiled. “I’m going to the airship, skeleton. Feel free to follow.”

She turned around, letting her gauze dress swivel in the night wind as she stepped past the opening. Speechless, Boney turned to Axehand—Axehand’s back, specfically.

“Master!” he said. “What should we do?”

“Let’s take her in,” came the reply. “The more, the merrier—and I can feel she’s not a bad person.”

“She would drown a man to death without batting an eye.”

“Because she’s terrified. I can sense her soul, Boney—it’s scarred but pure.”

Cursing, the skeleton rushed after her, and all the other undead followed.

He exited the opening, finding himself in the manor’s inner courtyard. Being surrounded by windows was a sight, but decoration-wise, this place was similar to the outer courtyard, with the glaring exception of a large airship placed right in the middle of everything.

This was the first time Boney ever saw an airship. It resembled a sixty-foot-long caravel—a double-decked wooden ship—except its sails were placed at the far back and front of the ship, and between them loomed a massive, round cloth balloon attached to the deck through slim iron lines. The ship was brown, though the paint was flaking off after years in the wind and rain, while the balloon was red.

All in all, this was an impressive contraption, but Boney only gawked for a split-second before rushing at the ramp that led to its deck.

“I’m Boney,” he said, catching up to the girl, “not Skeleton.”

“Good for you. Now come; you know how to fly this thing, right? What do we do?”

Boney stared at Laura. Laura stared at Boney.

“You do know how to fly this, right?” she asked, hesitantly.

“I… know someone who does.”

“Oh, Hydra!” she cursed. “Why would you try to steal an airship without knowing how to use it?”

Shouts came from all around, along with the sound of boots stomping on stone.

“I told you, we have someone who does! It’s just not me!”

“Well, where are they? We’re in a hurry, if you didn’t notice.”

“They… They’re on the way!”

“By Hydra!” Laura cursed again, turning to the Billies. “Drop your stuff and come with me, all of you. There should be barrels below deck; we need to quickly get them up here.”

“We don’t take orders from you,” Boney cut in.

“You do, if you want to live—or whatever you undead do. Now hurry, we’re running out of time.”

“Now, listen here, you bi—”

An explosion rang out from beyond the manor, followed by a series of screams. Everyone looked over. Boney looked back at Laura.

“You know what? On second thought, I’d be happy to—”

Another explosion resounded, this time much closer. A part of the manor’s walls exploded, sending debris flying everywhere as a small tunnel was formed, connecting the inner courtyard to the outer one, and the entire building groaned as three figures walked out of the new opening.

One was an impossibly tall, fat, one-eyed humanoid wielding a large iron club. Another was an oily-haired, dark-eyed, barefooted man. And the third was a person with a horizontal scar across his forehead and a wicked smile on his lips, with sharp blue eyes that instantly locked onto their still forms.

Jerry’s eyes snapped open, and they widened at once.

“Jericho!” he exclaimed.

“Maccain,” said the scarred man, announcing himself, “and you, my friend, are just looking for trouble.”