Janaxia gestured, flicking bolts of darkness ahead of her towards her enemies. A pair of skeletons shattered, their bones crumbling into dust as she hurried past, raising a scarf to cover her mouth, not wanting to breath in any of the bone-dust. Really, why did these places always have to be so dreary? Nothing but stone and bones, badly-carved stone niches holding messy heaps and stacks of the things, not even sorted into bodies! Woe betide the necromancer who attempted to create a skeletal servant for themselves here; the thing would be a tangled mess of ribs and limbs, nothing in proportion, and fit for little but frenetic combat.

And that shoddiness was present throughout the entire facility – Semari had found a entrance, not hidden so much as seemingly forgotten, a trap-door held shut by weeds and rust, and that granted access to a forgotten section of catacombs. From there, it had been a simple (if dust-filled and unpleasant) walk into the inhabited sections of the Necropolis. Most of the dead here seemed content to simply watch, skulls swivelling in place, dimly-glimpsed wraiths brushing past them. The lord of the place, Slavamir Davash of the Ebon Skull, was certainly skimping on the housekeeping!

Another shadow, this one attached to a physical being, emerged and revealed itself as Semari, covered with dust and cobwebs. She shook herself, a thick hazy cloud of dust shaking out, slowly settling to the ground. As she spoke, Janaxia cleaned herself, calling up magical force to keep herself tidy, removing the grit dirt from her own clothing.

‘Looks mostly empty. Punched a couple of skellies, but there’s nothing else down here, except for, like, the big glowing rune-thingie. Pretty sure that’s the way we need to go.’

Vrintar stepped around a corner, an axe in each hand. Janaxia supressed a defensive reaction – Vrintar had made her thoughts on being mentally controlled very clear, and that it was not to be repeated. Still, despite that, she seemed… intrigued, if not exactly loyal. But those twinned axes would make swift work of Janaxia, if they were to be used in anger.

‘I recognise not the spell-craft, but I know little of the arts of the dead. Best you look, Janaxia. There seems little of danger in these halls – the true threat will lie above us. But if we take Davash’s head, then the reward is great, to say nothing of what you seek.’

‘Thank you, Vrintar. Show me the way.’

The woman nodded and turned, leading further into the catacombs. The tattoo-runes etched into her skin were lit with a soft glow, channeling the ambient magic of the place – Janaxia had often caught Vrintar looking at her own tattoo, although out of interest rather than anything more hostile. Perhaps her tribe held such things in high esteem? The tattoo-runes showed her people were talented at magic themselves, was it possible that she might know something of such marks? Something of an awkward subject to broach though, as from what Janaxia could read of Vrintar’s marks, they described her life in great detail, from her deeds of heroism, to her two husbands. That was certainly one way to stay warm in the long winter nights! Janaxia briefly wondered how such an arrangement worked – her ancestors had, on occasion, had similar setups, but with a rather more overt power imbalance, one side or other having to stay in place, frequently under duress. Something on more egalitarian lines would be intriguing, with the right partners.

They came to a circular chamber, open to the night sky above, an untidy pile of bones – and a few fresher bodies – showing it was used as a dumping ground for corpses by the locals. Davash was probably glad of the fresh resources for his spells. There was a staircase leading upwards, but a glowing ward of glyphs blocked their access, a barrier just about visible in the air.

Janaxia approached, but didn’t touch it, wary of invoking its power onto herself. This was when Hakara would have been useful – the girl may not have had any style, but she was knowledgeable about much of the mundane arcana, the sort of thing Janaxia had little knack for, and had bypassed via raw talent. Still, the meaning of the runes seemed simple enough – none but the dead shall pass – along with a lot of rather unnecessary swirls and trills, the first sign of ornamentation she had seen in this place.

‘Semari, pass me a bone please? A nice long one?’

She held her hand up expectantly, hearing dry clatters as Semari rummaged through the heap.

‘Heh, I bet you’d like a nice, long boning, right?’

Something dry and gritty touched her hand, Janaxia instinctively using magic to clean it. ‘I shall choose not to dignify that with a response.’ She bought the bone in front of her – a femur, just what she needed. Keeping a careful distance, she reached forward and started scratching it along the ground. Energy snarled from the barrier at the bone but didn’t interfere. The marks had been etched deep, likely a long-running spell that was simply maintained as a regular chore. She scratched away at the marks, wearing away at the stone.

‘Ah, cunning.’ Vrintar joined her, finding a bone herself, her raw strength moving things along faster, the stone soon giving way beneath their combined forces. The barrier shredded as the runes were erased, magic collapsing to nothingness.

‘Semari, if you would? See if there are any guards waiting for us.’

Semari scampered up the stairs, or rather, along the walls, jumping between empty sconces, the bannister, and anything else that could support her weight rather than simply using the steps. At times she seemed almost feral! Janaxia tried not to show any fear, Vrintar still close by, axes at the ready. In these close confines, even if she were to summon up darkness, it would be a struggle to survive, never mind to escape.

‘There is a matter to discuss.’ Outside of combat, Vrintar’s voice was almost gentle, rather than the savage growl one would expect. ‘You are blood of the Icereaver, are you not?’

Janaxia paused before answering, unsure as to the purpose of the question. ‘Yes, he sired my line, centuries ago. I am proud to be his heir, and to bear his blood in my veins.’

‘Then a debt is owed.’

Janaxia tensed, ready to flee. A debt of vengeance, passed down through the ages? Vrintar chuckled. ‘Worry not, if I desired your head, I would have claimed it already. No, if it were not for your grand-sire, then my own blood would not exist. My own line flows from Bronwyn MacCuille, wielder of Bitethorn, the Crimson Spear.’

‘Oh, of course. I believe they duelled, did they not? For three days and three nights. Before Kinnevar was finally victorious.’

‘Aye, that he was. And merciful, to spare Bronwyn her life. And another deed, which is known but not spoken of, but for which a debt is owed. For that, I shall stay. But should you suborn my will again, I will consider the debt repaid, and seek reparations of my own.’

Janaxia flinched away, although Vrintar hadn’t actually moved at all. ‘You have my sincerest apologies for… that incident. I was overwhelmed in the moment, and…’

‘You will not call the crown again. It is a thing of ill omen, that should not be. Stathis was merciful indeed to let you live, with such a thing known to you. In the times of old, you would have been bound in iron and burned, the ashes buried deep.’

‘Yes, Vrintar. I’m sorry.’ Her mind whirled – she knew the story of Kinnevar and the Queen of Thorns, of course, but what had he done with her, that couldn’t be spoken of? Could she and Vrintar be cousins? Impossibly distant of course, but that would explain a great deal of Vrintar’s grace and wisdom. Or was it some other deed of his?

Vrintar chuckled, looking down at her. ‘You are brave, in your way, I suppose. And certainly more interesting than guarding the winter passes.’ She glanced up. ‘Semari returns.’

Semari skidded down the banister, flipping onto the floor. ‘Pretty quiet up there. Couple of skeletons, like, shuffling about, but they’re not doing much. Don’t look up either, so nice and easy to avoid. There’s a big stone box building in the centre, only entrance is by a bridge. That’s probably where they keep the good stuff, locked up nice ‘n tight.’

‘Very good, Semari.’ It was always wise to praise underlings, and it cost nothing. Not that Semari seemed to care overmuch, idly scratching her face. ‘That shall be our next destination. It would be best to be in and out as swiftly as possible.’ Davash was rarely seen in public, but was known to be a talented necromancer, working on making himself immortal and becoming an undead lich. His servants scoured the land for the occult reagents needed, but he stayed in the Necropolis, except for rare times when he made an example of an opponent. Hopefully he was abed, or engaged in his laboratory, at this late hour. His apprentices were hopefully resting as well – at least, there was no sign of them.

‘So, we going to try talking to her about her stuff again?’ Semari was stretching, easing herself through a warmup routine, staring at Janaxia.

She bridled. ‘And to what are you referring?’

‘Uh, well, the whole “eating a soul” or whatever you did. Whenever we bring it up…’

Janaxia’s mind fuzzed as Semari launched into a lengthy and rather tiresome story about a past exploit with Kethys, involving the murder of much of a royal dynasty, although with rather more on the food afterwards. Which, admittedly, did sound like a rather impressive feast, but was scarcely pertinent to the situation at hand.

Eventually she finished, staring at Janaxia expectantly. Then she sighed. ‘Yeah, same as before.’ She turned to Vrintar. ‘Guess we’re stuck with her for a bit longer? At least until we, like, get paid or something. Or get somewhere it’s easier to leave.’

‘I concur, although she may bear observation.’

‘I believe actions speak louder than words? Shall we continue?’ The longer they stayed here, the more likely it was to be discovered. She gestured at the stairs, Semari moving ahead first.

Up the stairs, it was much as Janaxia had expected – a stone cloister, choked with dank weeds and boggy puddles, whatever decoration there had once been now all-but-erased by water and foliage, worn down to stubby torsos and mutilated limbs. A few skeletons milled about, moving without any seeming purpose, one endlessly bumping into a pillar – it would step forward, smack into the stone, retreat a step, and then repeat the motion, over and over again.

A frog ribbetted somewhere nearby but there was no sign of any guardians, other than the skeletons. Was Davash growing old and sloppy, desperate to complete his researches before his body failed him? Such was a common fate for necromancers, their quest for eternal life ending in a painful death by self-inflicted poisons, as they made an error in the required alchemical concoctions. Semari pointed up at a building above them, raised high on a pillar of stone, only connected to the main cloister by an aerial walkway. It was covered with thick greenery, vines writhing as she watched – doubtless placed there to attack anyone attempting to simply climb.

‘Can you get up there?’

‘Sure, easy.’ Semari scampered off again, jumping high and pulling herself up to the higher level. Ronteah surely wouldn’t approve of such things, as a goddess of law and order! A few seconds later, a rope dropped down, Vrintar gesturing at Janaxia to go first. That made sense – if they were attacked at either end, then those skilled at direct combat could hopefully deal with it, while she, as the vulnerable spellcaster, would be protected. Was this the sort of thing that Stathis had had to think of all the time? It certainly put her seemingly eternal grumpiness in a new light, if she was perpetually having to order and arrange things!

Janaxia started hauling herself up the rope, having to strain to lift her weight, arm-over-arm up the rough rope. She didn’t look down, focusing purely on the task at hand, feeling her arms start to burn from the strain. Undignified though it was, it came as a relief when Semari grabbed her and pulled her up the rest of the way, solid ground back beneath her feet. Vrintar swiftly followed, managing to close the gap in just a few movements, making it look easier. Well, she had grown up in the mountains, doubtless having to haul herself around cliffs and suchlike.

They circled around the cloister until they came to a bridge. A gargoyle stared at them, stone shaped into a misshapen and hunched humanoid, empty eyes glaring. All three of them looked at each other before launching attacks, Janaxia peppering it with bolts, Vrintar pulling both her axes out and swinging for it, as Semari moved to kick it. The stony façade broke, rancid ichor oozing from wounds, as another blow from Vrintar cleaved through the thing’s neck, killing it before it could even attack.

Semari gave it a shove, the body falling to the ground and shattering, returning to stone upon death. ‘Well, that was strangely obvious. I would have expected at least several of similar design, to make it stand out less. It seems as though the Lord of the Ebon Skull is getting sloppy in his defences, not having faced any attackers in quite some time.’

She called up a disk of black energy, hovering just above the surface of the bridge. It was a tight squeeze, Vrintar taking up the largest part of the space, but it was better than risking any traps on the bridge itself. It scudded forward, raising them up above the walkway, until they reached the far door.

It was metal, whatever pattern once carved onto it now worn away, robed figures rendered into all-but-shapeless blobs by time and moisture. Janaxia flung a bolt against it, smashing it open, before commanding the disk to advance again.

The room inside was probably unlit, but Janaxia couldn’t tell – her arcane senses had reached such refinement that she no longer had much need for mundane light. Which was useful within dark chambers, but it would be nice if she could tell if a room was lit or not! Runes on the floor shifted beneath them, spikes shooting upwards at them but unable to reach. This platform definitely made exploring easier, no matter what Stathis might think. Her complaints about it were rude, and wholly unfounded!

She bit her lip, shifting her thoughts away from the subject of Stathis. The kiss had been joyous, sweet and delightful, but then… Watching Stathis fade away had been terrifying, the look on her face one of uncertainty and fear, most unlike, and most unsuited, to her. Was she still alive somewhere, somehow? Her body had simply dissolved, but sometimes, Janaxia could almost hear her voice.

She shook her head, trying to break out of the reverie and stay alert. A single gargoyle guardian was far less than expected – the door hadn’t even been locked! Although the rune-traps looked more impressive, but were rather trivial to overcome – Semari would likely be able to evade them easily enough, and such things rarely had the power to discharge themselves multiple times.

They advanced, everyone on edge, huddling close together to avoid a gaggle of skeletal arms that protruded from a hole in the wall, clattering together, seeking to grab anyone that passed too close. Vrintar swung an axe, cleaving through the bundle, bones falling to the floor, fading to dust as they were severed from whatever empowered them.

The door was too narrow for the disc to pass through, Semari pulling herself up via the lintel and jumping around. Something rattled and hissed – Vrintar squinted, unable to see in the probably-darkness, as Janaxia spotted the source of the noise. Beneath them, a huge snake with a body as wide as a barrel, coiled up on itself, opening its mouth to reveal savage-looking fangs as it hissed again.

Semari, there is a rather large snake beneath us, you may wish to deal with it.

Janaxia tossed a few bolts at it, before Semari dropped down. It struck, Semari dodging, barely, despite not being able to see. She flipped around, wrapping her arms around its body, squeezing and choking it. The creature reared up, smashing her against the wall, but she kept her grip, grappling her legs around as well. It smashed against the wall again, rousing a cloud of dust, Semari now looking somewhat battered. Well, if she would take such a direct approach to combat, it was scarcely a surprise if she were to be injured!

But the beast was weakening now, struggles getting slower and slower as Semari choked it out. Janaxia tossed another few bolts in, slamming it around further, before it finally collapsed. Semari kept squeezing, until she was sure it was dead, before releasing it and giving Janaxia a thumbs up. Then she stepped away, immediately tripping over the body of the thing, apparently unable to see, meaning the room must be pitch black.

Janaxia dismissed the disk, looking at the climb down with disgust, before sighing and starting to lower herself. At least the rock was pitted and easy to climb, although the moss was leaving quite the mess on her clothing! As she climbed down, she kept an eye on Semari, directing her around.

Please stop stumbling around, Semari. Turn around. A little to the left. Now advance.

Semari stepped forward, stumbling over the body of the snake again. Janaxia sighed – this really would be so much easier if everyone could see in the dark as she could! Nevertheless, she directed Semari to a door, then waited a moment to see if there were the sounds of a fight.

When it seemed safe, she followed, gesturing at Vrintar to move ahead, into the next chamber. A flickering green mage-light shadowed a throne, an ornate head-piece visible, all horns and spikes and hanging runestones. Janaxia could sense power here, a welling surge of magical energy swilling around the space, potent yet undirected, making her senses tingle. There was no sign of any other guardians, but such a figure as Davash was bound to have ethereal guardians or suchlike. Or was bound into a meditative slumber, attempting to transition into an undead state.

Semari and Vrintar attacked in unison, Semari leaping high as Vrintar swung her axes. They smashed through bone, headpiece slumping to the side. Janaxia threw herself to the side as a spell erupted from the floor, a sphere of power appearing around Semari, suspending her in midair. Another appeared around Vrintar, her axe caught partially outside. She tried shaking it, unable to break the bubble.

Another sprung into being where Janaxia had been standing, grabbing at a trailing tassel from her robe. It started to move, trying to envelop her, but only slowly. As she retreated, the dim thudding sounds of Semari punching the sphere, another light appeared – a panel in the wall slid open to reveal firelight, tips of a several wands protruding, sparkling with the promise of assault.