Lady von Ekko’s Glorious Adventurer Brigade continued for another half hour until they encountered a wide dirt road. As they pulled themselves out of the brush, they looked back and forth. The road stretched far in either direction.

Riven sighed with resignation. “Well, looks like we’ve been going the wrong way.”

“You don’t know that,” said Kaylen. “Maybe the road leads to the tower.”

“If the road led to the tower, couldn’t we have just followed it the whole time?” Fiona asked.

Andra glared at her.

“Sorry,” Fiona added, wincing.

Andra picked a direction. “Not much else we can do. We might as well follow it.”

The party started walking, but they had only made it a few feet before a wagon came around the bend ahead of them, led by a pair of shaggy horses.

“Great, we can ask for directions,” Kaylen said.

“But if we do that, we’ll be proving Maxim right,” Andra protested.

“Proving him right about what?”

“About how we needed to ask for directions,” Andra explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The other three stared at Andra for a moment, stunned.

“We’re asking for directions,” Riven said forcefully.

The wagon was driven by two men, middle-aged and bearded, who eyed the group with suspicion.

“Excuse me,” Riven greeted them, waving. “We’re looking for the necromancer’s tower.”

“You’re adventurers, then?” asked one of the men. “Here to kill the necromancer?”

“That’s right,” said Kaylen. “Soon your town will be free of their threat.”

The man snickered. “Good luck with that. The tower is just down this road.”

Andra laughed triumphantly. “You see? I didn’t need Maxim’s advice at all.”

There were a lot of zombies.

Bessen wondered how long the necromancer had been at this. How he could have gathered so many corpses without anyone finding out.

There were hundreds, most kept in an enormous pen held in by only a low fence that the zombies were either unwilling or unable to step over. They were packed together, with barely enough room to step around each other. Dozens more wandered, or perhaps patrolled the area around the tower. Most were fairly intact, though some had exposed bone or were missing limbs. One had no head. They would be no match for an army, but they could easily overwhelm four adventurers. 

Her party was crouched in the bushes at the edge of the woods near the tower. It stretched into the sky, looking slightly off balance, made of rough stone. A road led right up to a set of huge doors at its base. Bessen sighed with frustration, wondering if they could have taken that road the whole time.

“Alright, Atworth,” said Maxim. “You’re up.”

Atworth reached into a small pouch at their side and pulled out a squirrel. Holding it close to their mouth, they whispered to it, and a moment later the squirrel scampered down Atworth’s sleeve, then leg, then dashed across the field, unnoticed by the zombies, up the wall of the tower, and through a window.

“Was that in there the whole time?” Bessen asked.

“Yeah,” Atworth replied, speaking in the tone one uses when talking about a cute animal. “He’s a sleepy boy.”

“Maxim, I’m bored,” Nightingale whined.

“Don’t worry,” Maxim replied, checking his bag and arranging a few bottles. “It’ll be your turn soon enough.

A few minutes later, the squirrel returned, scampering back up Atworth’s leg and onto their shoulder. It made a chittering sound in their ear.

“He’s on the ground floor,” Atworth said. “In some sort of ritual room, raising more zombies.”

Maxim nodded. “Alright, it’s your turn, Nightingale.”

Nightingale grinned excitedly, then quickly scanned the field between herself and the tower, taking stock of the positions of all of the zombies, where they were moving and where they were looking. Bessen tried to follow her gaze, but she found it impossible to remember everything. Suddenly, it seemed Nightingale found her opportunity, because she took off running, leaving barely more than a rustle in the bushes. She dashed across the grass, staying low and moving silently, until she reached the tower. With no hesitation she began climbing, finding handholds that Bessen couldn’t see, until she reached a window and was gone. Bessen couldn’t help but note that even though Nightingale wasn’t a thief, she made a much better one than Andra.

“You know, I didn’t get to do too much on this job,” said Maxim as the group waited. “Oh well, I suppose there’s always the next one. I’d say we did pretty solid for our first time, at least.”

At that moment, they heard a cry from somewhere near the other side of the tower.

“Die, zombies!”

It was Kaylen. She was charging at the wandering zombies, brandishing her mace. She reached one of the zombies and swung hard, making a new dent in its head. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to stop it and it started reaching for Kaylen. Meanwhile, Fiona and Andra were joining the battle. Fiona’s sword transformed itself into a battleaxe as she swung it, severing the arm of a zombie. When had she gotten such a high-quality enchanted weapon? Andra dashed from zombie to zombie, slicing at tendons. It was a solid strategy for zombie fighting. The magic that held a zombie together could take over the role of a few damaged muscles, but more damage to key areas meant more work for the magic and it would eventually fall apart.

Riven was still standing near the trees. She flung a fireball at one of the zombies and it exploded on the creature’s chest, blasting it apart as well as several of the zombies nearby. The zombie’s head soared high into the air, its hair trailing behind it like a banner. For a moment, no one could take their eyes off it. Until it landed right on Kaylen’s forehead, causing her to collapse in a heap.

Fiona and Andra rushed to her side, holding off the zombies attempting to use the opportunity to finish off Kaylen. Riven joined them as well, attempting to pull the unconscious Kaylen back towards the trees, pausing occasionally to hurl another spell. However, Riven’s fireball had damaged the fence holding back the bulk of the zombie army, and they would soon surround the little group.

“We have to help them,” Bessen said.

“Those idiots brought this on themselves,” Maxim replied. “Let them get eaten.”

“I really don’t want to watch them die,” Atworth said.

Maxim groaned with frustration. “Fine. We’ll help them. Bessen, lead the way.”

Bessen nodded. “Alright, let me get in the zone.”

She drew her axe then took a deep breath and let it out. Then she took another. And another, getting faster and faster until she felt her face going red. She focused on the zombies until everything else seemed to fade away. They needed to be destroyed.

She let out a warcry, not the tree-shaking bellow from before, but still a louder sound than anyone would expect a human to make, and charged at the zombies, cutting them to pieces with uncanny speed. She became an unthinking force of destruction, forgetting everything else, including how long she had been fighting and how many enemies were left to destroy. All she knew was she had to keep going. At one point she caught sight of Atworth, Melissa at their side, ripping off a zombie’s arm with her teeth. At another moment, she saw Maxim splashing a liquid on a zombie that caused it to burn down to its bones within seconds beneath an eerie purple flame.

She had no idea how long she had been fighting, but she eventually heard Maxim’s voice calling out “Bessen, stop!” and some part of her mind told her to listen. She halted her attack to find that she and her allies were completely surrounded by zombies. She was covered in blood and viscera and what might have been vomit, the stench of it nearly causing her to retch when it finally registered. They were still some distance from Andra’s party’s location. The zombies were not moving.

“Good,” called a voice that Bessen didn’t recognize. She looked to see a surprisingly young man standing at the entrance of the tower. He wore the requisite black robes, but had short blond hair and patchy facial hair that suggested that he was attempting and failing to grow a beard. “Now, if you will kindly hand your equipment over to my friends, we can talk about this like adults.”

Maxim handed over his bag to the nearest zombie who, to Bessen’s surprise, took it. Bessen hesitated a moment, but eventually handed over her axe. It took two zombies to carry it.

“I guess the tiger is a bit of a problem,” the necromancer said. “Send it into the woods.”

Atworth whispered to Melissa, who growled quietly, but obeyed, padding towards the zombies, who parted to let her through. Once she was gone, a few zombies moved closer, one on either side of each party member taking their arms in their cold hands and leading them towards the tower entrance. At some point, they met up with the other party, who were being led by zombies in a similar manner. They were all just as stain-covered as Bessen. The lace that covered Andra’s clothes was torn in several places, Fiona looked to have earned a few more scars, one lens of Riven’s spectacles had been completely obscured by a splash of blood, and Kaylen was moaning softly in a half-conscious state and supported by the zombies leading her.

The necromancer greeted the adventurers at the entrance of the tower with a finger-waggling wave and a grin, then took the lead as he led them inside, into a huge, nearly empty room dominated by an elaborate sigil covering the floor.

“I don’t get it, why not just kill us and add us to your army?” Bessen asked.

“Oh, I plan to add you to my army,” the necromancer explained as he led the way. “But not as zombies. Zombies are nice and all, but I can do much more impressive things with living specimens. And adventurers who are experienced in combat will make excellent liches.”

“Tell me this wasn’t your plan all along, Raven,” Andra muttered.

“You know I’m not into guys,” Riven hissed back. “Besides, liches are still dead. Our souls will be gone and they’ll just be copies of what’s left of our thoughts and memories, serving him.”

“Ah, you’re familiar with the process,” said the necromancer cheerfully. “You can share all the grisly details with your friends while you wait.”

The necromancer led the group down a set of stairs and into a dungeon. Whoever had built this tower was very by-the-books, it seemed. Each cell was made of thick stone on three sides with the fourth being rows of metal bars and a door. There were eight cells, and each adventurer was locked into their own cell. Their equipment was piled into the eighth. The cells had no beds, making it clear that they weren’t meant to stay here long. Other than that, the dungeon had the standard look, complete with ancient cobwebs and the lingering smell of its previous occupants. It was lit only by a few dim, nearly-expired light potions. The necromancer and his zombie followers climbed back up the stairs, leaving the two parties to contemplate their fate.