It will find you.

Quintus’ words echoed through Gavrael’s head. The assurance didn’t bring him any comfort. If his memories were half as lost as he was, then he’d be better off starting a new life than trying to recover his old one. He tried his hardest to focus on the fog clouding his mind, will it to part, show him something, but he’d only succeeded in giving himself a headache. He felt lost, adrift in a nameless sea with no sign of land in sight and no one to throw him a lifeline.

Quintus was good for small talk, at least. They’d been walking for what felt like an eternity through a thick forest. His instep burned from the long trek and his back hurt from lugging his heavy bag the whole time. But he dared not complain. Quintus had walked just as far and lugged around that crucifix that looked four times as heavy. On occasion, he’d start humming a somber melody, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He had a nice voice, Gavrael had to admit, low and smooth with a comforting warmth.

Gavrael hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulders and dabbed at the sweat on his head. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of turned earth and pine. This part of the forest lacked underbrush, since only the barest slivers of sunlight penetrated the canopy.

“Need a break?” Quintus asked as he passed Gavrael a flask of water.

Gavrael shook his head and took a swig. “No, I’m alright. How much longer until we get to the waypoint.”

“An hour or so, judging by the sound of the chimes,” he replied. “Which is great, because that weather behind us looks nasty.”

“The chimes? Is that some kind of euphemism?” He looked back and through the gaps in the canopy, saw the dark clouds hanging over the mountain range. A twinge of fear settled like a brick in his gut, yet he wasn’t sure why. Had he been afraid of storms?

“No. There are…” Quintus’ words trailed off, and he slowed to a stop, his gaze trained on the way ahead and a scowl tugging at his lips.

Gavrael looked around but saw nothing but the same red-barked trees and loose earth they’d been trekking over for hours. “What is it?”

“Damn it.” He swiveled his head this way and that before his gaze finally settled on a tree off the side of the path. “Come here.”

“Quintus, what’s happening?” Gavrael asked as he followed him to the tree.

“Netherborne. They must have heard us.” Quintus dropped his cross. “They’re headed this way. I need to get you up into this tree.”

Gavrael’s heart rate doubled, and an itch crept up his back. Netherborne. He knew them, knew the trouble they caused, the death and destruction. “But I thought you said… What about you?”

“I’ll take care of them. Come on.” He dropped to a squat and cupped his hands. “I’ll throw you up. Just grab on, alright?”

Gavrael blinked. Throw? He put a foot in Quintus’ hand and braced a hand against his shoulder. The lowest branch had to be at least thirty feet over their heads. “Are you sure about this?”

“No time to find somewhere else. Try not to flail and don’t forget to grab the branch.”

That was all the warning he got before Quintus tossed him up. He sailed into the air as though he’d been launched from a cannon. His stomach fell and the vertigo from seeing the ground shrink beneath him made his head spin. Yet he managed, somehow, to hook his arm around the branch and pull himself up.

“By the gods.” Even with the less than ideal state he was in, he couldn’t be that light, and Quintus had thrown both him and his bag.

Below him, Quintus stepped to the middle of the path and produced a small silver bauble from his pocket. I’ll take care of them, he’d said, but Gavrael couldn’t fathom how when he was bare handed.

The crunching of dead leaves underfoot sounded in the distance, followed by a cursed screech that belonged beyond the grave and the stench of pot-pourri. Gavrael looked around the tree in time to see the first monster emerge from deeper within the woods.

It clung to a tree with long spindly limbs tipped with hook-like claws. Smooth skin stretched across its face where its eyes should be, and its ears were reminiscent of a dog’s. It opened its mouth and a low, staccato-like groan escaped, saliva stretching between its rows of serrated teeth.

“Gross,” Quintus said as he took a step in the monster’s direction. If he was at all worried, it didn’t show.

Meanwhile, Gavrael poured rivers of sweat, and his legs suddenly felt too weak to hold him. He knelt on the branch and clung to the trunk, making himself as small and imperceptible as possible. He’d never seen such an abomination before; he was sure. There was no way something so ghastly would be erased from his memory, not even by death.

More of them appeared, walking along the ground, leaping from tree trunk to tree trunk. They crowded around Quintus like wolves stalking their next meal. Gavrael counted over twenty in his line of sight, their crackling moans filling his head.

This first one lunged at Quintus, mouth agape, and claws poised to tear him to shreds. Quintus stepped into the attack, angled his body away from the claws and snatched the monster by the neck. At the same time, a sweet chime filled the air. The monster stilled as though suspended in time before its head exploded into a cloud of tiny, white flower petals.

Gavrael’s lips parted, and his breath caught in his throat. Music… he was fighting them with music. Quintus spun on his heel, the chime rang out again, and another beautiful explosion followed, the petals swirling around him, joining in his dance.

Gavrael’s fear melted away, replaced by wonder that made his heart float. The petals floated up to him, brushed his face and swirled into the canopy like tiny fairies. So this was necromancy. He remembered hearing or reading about it, though he wasn’t sure where. And he didn’t remember the descriptions being as beautiful as what he was witnessing. Every chime of the bell was beautiful, yet haunting, like a pleasant memory of a lost loved one.

Quintus moved around his opponents like a practiced dancer. A spin here, a side-step there, well-timed duck, and a chime to top it off. A score of them lunged at Quintus at once, and he slammed his hands together. The chime was louder and prolonged this time, like it echoed over and over off invisible walls. The netherborne screeched and one by one, their bodies burst into a shower of petals.

The forest became quiet again, or Gavrael thought it was. He couldn’t make out anything over the roar of his heart in his ears. Quintus promised, and Quintus delivered. He almost felt like a fool for worrying. Then again, how was he to know?

The wind shifted, scattering the petals along the path and into the canopy. In the midst of it stood Quintus, hands on his knees, panting.

“Are you alright?” Gavrael asked.

“I think so. That was the last of them.” Quintus straightened and dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s safe to come down.”

Gavrael looked down at the branch he stood on, then looked around for one close enough for him to jump down to, but there were none.

“Jump. I’ll catch you.” Quintus held his arms out.

Gavrael coughed, his cheeks growing hot. “I don’t think that would be wise. I could seriously hurt you. I’m sure we can think of something else.” Anything else, he added in his head.

He snorted. “I tossed you up there. I can catch you. Come on. Unless you want to sleep in that tree tonight.”

“Fine,” Gavrael acquiesced with a groan, and his face grew even hotter as he sat on the branch, legs dangling freely. Vertigo gripped him by the gut and squeezed. He dropped his bag down first and it landed with a thump next to Quintus’ crucifix.

Vertigo gripped his stomach and dragged it down to his toes. The fall lasted less than a second. One moment he was suspended in the air, the next he wasn’t. He landed in Quintus’ arms and looked up at him, his cheeks ablaze. “Thank you.”

Quintus raised an eyebrow and smiled, a devilish curl tugging the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome.” He set Gavrael on his feet and handed him his bag. The chime rang out again, softer this time, and Gavrael looked down at its source—a little silver bell. He’d taken down over a score of netherborne with a bell.

“You’re a necromancer,” Gavrael said.

Quintus averted his eyes as he shouldered his cross. “Indeed, I am. Is that a problem?”

“Well…” He frowned. He knew of necromancers, but couldn’t remember if he’d ever met one. “It feels like I should have something to say about it, but I’m not sure what. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because, Gavrael, in my experience, it’s not the best thing to lead with.” Quintus started down the path. “People don’t take kindly to those like me.”

“I see.” Gavrael fell into pace with him. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t mind it. It seems I owe you my life twice over now.”

Quintus snorted. “If you want to thank me, then buy me a barrel of booze.”

“I just might.”

Hey everyone,

This is your reminder that Inksgiving starts tomorrow and to kick things off I’m doing an Author AMA if/when the announcement chapter gets 20 comments. So if you have anything you’re dying to know about me, writing or any of my series, head on over to the link down there below my name and leave your questions in the comments section.

That’s all for now.