The Accidental Necromancer
Baradzem

Gavabar lay on the floor of the hut. He had bands of what looked like gold around his puffy wrists, encrusted with rough gems, and more around his flabby arms. They looked like they had been made for a thinner troll. He wore a girdle of gold, too.

It seemed unlikely they had been drugging him, but maybe. Certainly they wouldn’t waste alcohol on him. It was more likely he simply hadn’t eaten in days. He didn’t smell too good, either.

Either way, the crowd was starting to grumble. Even a freed Gavabar wasn’t likely to lead them to anything, and without him to rally the village, they were unlikely to want to stand against Baradzem.

But Gren had told me that a troll village’s wealth was shown primarily not by the gold that its chief wore, but by how well fed he was. It was Gavabar’s job to eat, in a sense.

“They’ve been starving him,” I said. “Not a good look for the village.”

The men looked at me, and I bent over Gavabar to try to get him to wake up. “Gren sent me,” I whispered. “Come on. Wake up.”

“Gren?” he asked.

“Baradzem said that Gren betrayed us,” Gregor said. “To side with Xyla.”

“And Xyla is your friend, if you want any whiskey,” I said, wondering if I was over-playing my hand. “So perhaps it was Baradzem who truly betrayed you all?”

“Gren Great,” Gavabar managed, and then dozed off again. He snored.

They looked uncertain. I could possibly charm one of them, probably crooked-nose, and maybe that would sway the rest. But the mood looked pretty sour to me, and I wasn’t sure I blamed them. In his current state, Gavabar was no leader. Gren could lead — if she was here, and if they would accept a woman in charge, which from what she told me seemed doubtful. But they might, if the woman claimed to be acting for the chief, as Varek had.

One of the trolls slipped out of the hut. I had a good idea where he was heading — to the chief’s house, to tell Varek what was going on. I had to think fast.

I stood up, faced them, and held up my right hand. “I have nothing in my hand,” I said.

They watched.

“And nothing in my other hand — oh, look!” I had a bottle of whiskey in my other hand. I put it on the floor. They all looked at it.

By that time I got another bottle of whiskey in my right hand, and put it on the floor, too, without them having the slightest idea where it came from.

“Magic,” one of them said.

Of a sort. And actually, using a bag of holding felt a bit like cheating, but the hand still had to be quicker than the eye. “Either you take a stand now, against Baradzem, or you will live forever in fear of him. I can help you with Xyla, and I can help you with booze, but if you are too cowardly to stand up for yourself, against people who did this to your chief, then no one will ever be able to do anything for you at all.” I gestured to the snoring Gavabar, trying to turn his inability into a selling point. “Do you think, if they dare to do this to the chief, they won’t dare to do it for you? Already one of you is running to tell Varek.”

“It’s too late then,” Gregor said.

“No. It’s not. Varek is dead. I killed him. You have the one chance you’ll ever get. What say you?” I spoke to the crowd, but I was looking right at Rargar.

“For the chief!” he yelled.

The others said nothing.

“Don’t tell me a little human girl can stand up for your chief, and you can’t,” I said. “And don’t think you can fight me, because you’ll lose. My magic is too strong.”

“She’s got more balls than any of you,” Rargar said.

He didn’t know how right he was. I don’t know if the insult to their masculinity would have worked if they weren’t a bit drunk, but a drunk troll is a horny troll, and full of notions about his virility.

“We have to meet him when he comes out of the forest,” Gregor said. “Away from the houses and the great hall, so he can’t burn them.”

The one who slipped out came running back in, and for a moment the door was open. Everyone turned from me for a moment.

Dimension Step.

I appeared outside just before the door closed, in time to hear the returning troll quaver, “Z-z-zombies!”

I turned, re-opened the door, and smiled at the trolls. “Coming?” I asked. “Don’t worry about the zombies. They’re on our side.”

“How did you get there?” asked one of them.

I just grinned. “Magic,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“Yes,” said a bass voice. “Let’s go.”

Gavabar stood up, somewhat shakily, and Rargar moved to support him. The bottle of whiskey, which had been nearly empty, was drained now, and the chief was standing. Apparently someone had thought to give him something to drink, and I hadn’t noticed.

“Where’s my axe!” he yelled.

“I think Gull took it,” Rargar said. “But I’ll get mine for you.”

Gull was one of the four, now two.

The trolls marched out. Gavabar started giving orders, sending the men to rouse others. He was wobbling, but coherent, and that apparently was good enough.

He turned to me. “Is Gren safe?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “She was yesterday.” I pointed toward the forest, and the smoke. “She’s in there, somewhere.”

“I wish she were here at my side,” he said.

I could understand that, whether he wanted his daughter or her archery. Both would come in handy.

Take the zombies.

I thought they’d do more damage to our own morale than they would help on the battlefield. If I could get them to run ahead, without anyone noticing, maybe that would be different. But things happened quickly. In a few minutes, over forty trolls had assembled near the great hall. Gavabar still looked shaky, but Gregor was barking orders. Half of them had bows. Some of them were armed with wood axes and sledgehammers. It wasn’t an organized force, but everyone had something that could serve as a weapon.

They marched toward the forest. There was a dirt road through the prairie.

Twenty men came from the forest, all armed with bows and axes both, except for one who seemed to be their leader, who held a staff and wore a red robe. Baradzem. They looked much more like a fighting force than Gavabar’s crew did, even though they were half the size. Behind them, scattered fires burned in the forest, and other areas had already burned to the ground.

Fire is so wasteful. It doesn’t leave corpses. But it is pretty.

“What is this?” yelled the man who had to be Baradzem.

“Justice!” yelled Gavabar.

Baradzem waved his hand, and a sheet of flame appeared in front of him. “You have one minute to lay down your arms, or I shall burn you all.”

There could have been arrows in the sky, but neither side wanted the other dead. Baradzem wanted people to rule over. These people were kinsmen, clan mates. Arrows were nocked, and the two sides eyed each other over a distance of fifty yards.

“If you have more magic,” Gavabar said to me. “This would be a good time for it.”

Everything I had was too short-ranged. Even if I teleported forward, I still wouldn’t be there. I could teleport twice in a row, maybe. I had another idea. “Do you have anyone who can kill him from here with a bow?”

“Only one person I know could make that shot with certainty. And the arrow might burn up in the fire, even then. If it didn’t strike true, it would cause everyone to start shooting, and many would die.”

“Is that person here?”

“That person is my daughter,” he said, confirming what I suspected.

Okay, so pulling the compound bow out of my bag was not going to solve our problems. I certainly couldn’t make that shot. It wasn’t getting any easier, anyway, because men were moving in front of Baradzem, blocking him from view. Some of them looked reluctant, but they were still protecting him. If just one of them had the courage to stab him in the back, this would all be over.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The man who had run away to tell Varek earlier had a knife in his hand, and was skulking toward Gavabar, perhaps also thinking he could end the fight by taking out our leader. I couldn’t get in the way with my sword in time, and anyway he probably knew his weapon better than I did.

I pulled out the wand and pointed.

As I did, the skulker’s arms were grabbed from behind. Rargar.

“Traitor,” he hissed, as the would-be assassin dropped his knife.

Gavabar looked. “It would be one way for us to unite, I suppose,” he said. “But my day has not come yet.”

“Kill him?” Rargar said.

“I wish we had time to lock him up. I could speak sense to him, in time, I think.” Gavabar sighed.

“He’ll burn everything!” said the captive. “Surrender now!”

Rargar slit his throat. The sight of more blood made me feel like throwing up again, but I held it back. Now was not the time to look uneasy at the sight of blood.

“Time is almost up!” Baradzem yelled. Up close it might have been a boom, but from half a football field away, it sounded tinny. One troll, holding a large axe, stood just in front of the flaming wall, barking orders for the trolls with him to be ready. I took it that troll was Gull.

“Tell him we’re sending an envoy to talk,” I said, and walked over to the dead body.

“Who?”

“Just tell him, please. No need to tell him who.”

Gavabar yelled out.

I touched my wand to the body, since it was out and everything, and animated the corpse. “I never got your name,” I said. “But it is now ‘Envoy.’”

“Not a very trollish name,” Rargar said. “And why name the dead?”

“Envoy, just walk toward the enemy. Take your time.”

As I expected, the trolls looked decidedly uneasy at Envoy standing up and walking through their ranks. But at least they got out of the way. I had a distraction now, for all involved. I walked along behind the Envoy, wishing I was a less noticeable figure myself, but I was the only one on the battlefield with pink skin, or boobs, and my skimpy outfit, meant to help me win the hearts and minds of trolls, didn’t do much to deemphasize the difference.

I could see a dozen bows pointed at me and the zombie from in front, and I knew what Gren could do with a bow. I couldn’t feel totally certain that someone behind me wouldn’t get the bright idea that an arrow in the back was a good way to deal with a necromancer. If I’d seen someone raise the dead like that, I’d assume they were evil. Especially if the dead guy was someone I knew. But I couldn’t look back. I had to look like I knew what I was doing, and hope that the trolls would rather look at my ass than shoot it.

I walked slowly, letting the zombie get twenty meters or so ahead of me. I had to think in meters instead of yards, because my spell distances were in meters. One Dimension Step would take me right behind the zombie, using it for cover. I needed it to get closer, so that one more would take me behind Baradzem. But his men were a good ten meters in front of him, and by that time they’d surely see the knife wound in Envoy’s throat. At least the animation spell had stopped the bleeding.

It was almost close enough. A shout went up from the opposing ranks as they saw that it was a dead thing. They, too, had once lived with the troll Envoy had been. Two more meters, and I’d try to end it all with one quick blow.

Baradzem pointed with his staff, and yelled. His force parted, and then a stream of fire enveloped the zombie. The bows of the trolls turned to point at me.

So much for waiting. But at least the flame would be a powerful distraction.

“Dimension Step,” I said.

Arrows whizzed toward where I’d been, but I was now right behind the flaming zombie. Anyone staring there would be staring right into the light, so it was good cover. It also smelled like a barbecue gone wrong.

I couldn’t be horribly high on mana, since I’d raised two zombies since filling up. My guess was I had twenty, and maybe I shouldn’t have turned notifications off. “Dimension Step,” I said again, knowing it would use up ten more. I just had to hope that it was twenty meters to the spot behind Baradzem, even though I suspected it wasn’t.

It wasn’t. I ended up right in front of his sheet of fire, the heat nearly overpowered me. I’d almost teleported into the middle of it. I drew my sword. Might as well get his attention, since I had no intention of being there in a moment.

Gull swung an axe at me. I turned and blocked instinctively, and surprisingly, successfully. But that meant I wasn’t facing Baradzem anymore. At any moment, a bolt of fire would finish me, or one of the other trolls would stab or shoot me in the back.

Then something went thunk, and whatever thunked hadn’t thunked into me.