Mary walked down the sandstone steps and into a torch-lit corridor. It was maybe 6 feet wide and 10 feet high, give or take two or three. She breathed in and was surprised by the cool, fresh, smokeless air filling her lungs.

She liked breathing. She glanced down at her arms, where their half-translucent skin exposed the darkness beneath. Too bad she wouldn't enjoy it much longer - it was getting worse.

Arthur led her deeper and deeper, turning seemingly at random but obviously with a purpose. For some reason, he kept his right hand touching the wall almost all the time. The corridors all looked exactly the same, and the sun had soon become just another memory, and not a too pleasant one. Mary was entirely content to walk in the shade for a change.

Mary really hoped that if it was indeed a maze, it was at least already cleaned of all minotaurs and their likes - she'd had enough of bulls for the foreseeable future.

Finally, they reached the audience hall. It was large, in all three (or, well, at least three) directions, with an arched ceiling and a few widely spaced not-really windows filled with gems of various shapes and colours filling the room with a mix of vibrant flashes. The sandstone on the floor and walls was polished close to reflection, which gave Mary another unpleasant reminder of her current visage. Night-long desperate escape through a sandstorm and a month of close to no hygiene really didn't serve her well.

At the end of the hall, there was a very throne-like chair twisted with various more and less spiky ornaments. Mary couldn't tell for sure, but it didn't seem to be made of gold or other noble material - it was way too grey. And on the wall to the right and behind the throne...

Mary's heart missed a beat. Then another.

On the wall, there was a relief of a boy, a sculpture half-buried into the stone. Chunks of his face looked like they were ripped off, and then replaced with sand and gravel. It did seem familiar to Mary for some reason... the figure didn't move in the slightest, but the eyes glowed green, giving Mary chills. It felt wrong.

Arthur was already moving towards his throne, yet he didn't go quite there - he was going to the sculpture. Placing a hand over the boy's face, he spoke in that unnatural voice.

“Enough for today, Nicolaus. Return to your eternal slumber.”

The green glow started fading, and eventually died completely. As the sculpture closed its eyes, it lost all pretence of being the tiniest bit alive. Arthur nodded slightly and didn't seem to pay it any more attention while walking to his throne.

“Was that...?” Mary asked but found her throat in full-on mutiny.

“Your team's previous leader?” Arthur smirked grimly. “Yes and no.”

“And by that, you mean...?”

“He's not alive anymore. Not... exactly, at least. I can keep part of him here, but only a small one. I try to limit it to the minimum, though, as he doesn't seem to enjoy the experience.”

For a moment, Mary was simply standing there in the audience hall completely and utterly speechless. “That's horrible. How can you do something like that?”

Arthur met Mary's eyes, then glanced at the walled-in boy again. “I do what needs to be done. Without the storms, they would have wiped out our little rebellion within days, maybe weeks. But if you have the power and want to take his place - be my guest, 'cuz I sure won't.”

All the tales of the undead and accursed flashed through Mary's brain as she looked at Nicolaus's stone-turned remains. She once read about blood-sucking vampires, plague-driven corpses rising from the dead, animated skeletons, spirits getting their revenge on those who wronged them... She couldn't remember anything about whatever it was that she was looking upon - it seemed almost original. One thing was clear, though.

“You're a necromancer,” she said, facing Arthur once more.

“And?”

“Isn't it... you know, evil?”

“...and?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Well... I sort of assumed you would be a good guy, saving me and stuff?” Though now that she thought about it, there could be a lot of quite evil reasons he may have saved her for. Mary discretely spread her fingers and started warming them up in case she needed to do a lot of magic at a moment's notice.

Arthur laughed. It started as a muffled chuckle, an almost cheerful sound that would bring back the memories of happy childhood had Mary really had them... actually, she had quite a few, she'd just failed to appreciate them so far. Now that she thought about it, she became more and more fond of the life she could no longer get back to. Still, it wasn't like she'd go back at this point...

Unfortunately, his laughter didn't stop on that nice note. Soon, it began rising in pitch, then dropping back down, then up again. Arthur was bending forward, gasping for breath, then backwards, throwing his head loosely like a puppet on a string. And every second, the sound was getting louder and louder until suddenly Mary's ears reported hearing nothing at all, while her brain insisted that the laughter was still going on in that dead voice she had heard before. Clouds of green energy puffed around the man, and then Mary heard distant laughter coming from a place that had no right to exist. A place somehow below the chamber she was in - only, not really below. More like deeper.

After just a few more seconds, Mary was no longer sure if it really was laughter anymore, or just plain screaming.

Even Mossie seemed uncomfortable, hiding behind her back and beeping something that got lost in the cacophony of madness.

And then - it all stopped so abruptly that the silence was literally ringing in Mary's ears.

“I hope you believe in horror stories, young Oceanrunner.” Arthur suddenly lifted his sword to his eyes, inspecting it for any imperfections. “After all, you're in one.” The sword burst into green flame, mere inches away from burning his face off.

Some time ago, Mary would probably run away screaming after such a demonstration. Now? Not so much. “Actually, I don't. Horrors don't make a lot of sense most of the time. But, to be fair, it actually seems quite realistic recently. Still, I'd expect the rebellion to be a bit less overt about their evil side?”

Arthur grimaced, then extinguished his weapon. “You're no fun, but my point still stands.”

“If that is what you consider funny? Then no, I'm not.”

A pounding on the door broke them out of their fascinating conversation about the nature of the universe.

“So, they're finally here. Took them long enough,” Arthur said.