Elias glared up at the sky as it became all too obvious he would be caught in the rain. Again. 

He recalled just how cold he’d been the previous night as he trudged through the woods and back into town, away from the little cabin where that infuriating hermit lived. For a while, his irritation had been a good enough distraction from his discomfort. By the time he could see the town, Elias was much too aware of the cold to be anything other than miserable. 

He was glad it had been late enough that there weren’t many people to cast strange looks his way as he made his way to the inn. Not that he didn’t get his fair share of people watching him with open curiosity in general. There didn’t seem to be many travelers passing through the little town near the necromancer’s home. At least, he’d learned as much from the older man at the shop in town. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the man asked after a while, watery blue eyes narrowed as he watched Elias gather what he’d need for his trip to hunt down Ethelred. 

“I’m not,” Elias answered easily. “Do I look that out of place?” 

“We don’t get a lot of people passing by,” he said with a shrug. “Won’t find much around here that appeals to travelers and we’re too out of the way for most to bother to stop by. What brings you around these parts?” 

Elias knew he shouldn’t be surprised by the man’s curiosity. It was understandable, if what he said about travelers was true. He still wished the man would just let him go about his business. 

“Just thought it’d be best to sleep under a roof than under a tree,” Elias answered with a friendly smile. “Was probably a good choice with the weather we had last night.” He was still mad he’d had to walk in the middle of a downpour even after he’d bothered to lug that lanky necromancer back to his home. 

“Did you get caught in that downpour?” 

“I got away from the worst of it thanks to the woods, but I was glad to get into town.” There was enough truth in that to be believable. 

“Best be careful around those woods.”

“Oh, you’ve got a problem with wild animals?” Something told Elias that wasn’t the case. This was reaffirmed when the man scoffed. 

“If only it were that.” The man scowled, face wrinkling further at his displeased look. “There’s strange folk living in the woods. Not to mention the commotion from the night before last. Best to keep away from that place,” the old man finished with a shake of his head. 

Elias was glad to get out of the shop after that, not wanting to risk raising the old man’s suspicions. He was quick to get out of the other shops he visited after. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he couldn’t help but wish he’d been stealthier while stealing the staff. Getting away quietly would have made things much easier. Instead, they’d made a spectacle during the struggle for the staff—one that hadn’t gone unnoticed in spite of the cover the woods provided. 

At least I wouldn’t have had to deal with that necromancer, he thought. 

Elias recalled the gaunt man he’d dragged back to the cabin—the man who’d been little more than skin and bones in the thief’s grasp. It was a wonder he’d managed to put up such a struggle, even though he’d been warned of the possibility when he took on the job. The reality he was met with was far from what he’d expected when he was told he’d be stealing from a necromancer. It was almost enough to make Elias feel guilty. 

He didn’t, but it was still a close thing. 

The man was strange, in Elias’ opinion—with his bandaged arms, gaunt look, and hair the color of snow. If it weren’t for the spark of cleverness in his dark eyes, Elias might have thought him to be a walking corpse with how lifeless he seemed. The only bit of color he’d witnessed on the man was the splash of crimson staining his neck from where Elias’ knife had nicked him. 

He probably saved my life, Elias thought as he recalled just how the necromancer had acquired that injury. 

He’d felt the blast of magic fly past him, so close he could feel the power of it prickle at his skin. It was only the necromancer’s quick reflexes that saved him. Elias still had to wonder why he’d bothered to pull him—the enemy—out of harm’s way even as a knife was held to his throat. 

After that, Elias had felt too guilty to just leave the man out in the woods. Especially considering how utterly pitiful he’d looked. And so, he’d made the walk back to the woods with the not-so-heavy weight of the necromancer draped over his shoulder and was relieved to have only gotten lost once along the way. 

Truthfully, Elias thought it was a shame he’d not been able to convince the necromancer to join him. He’d seemed capable enough for someone who looked to be a step away from death. Besides, he clearly knew the enemy well. That knowledge could have been helpful in searching for a man who was little more than a stranger to Elias. 

As much as he hated to admit it—even if only to himself—Elias had no idea of where to start his search. The only real lead he had was the staff he’d been tasked with stealing. Or, at least, the pieces of it. 

The necromancer had mentioned this Ethelred fellow would want to gather the pieces of the staff. If that was the case, then it would probably be easier for Elias to try searching for the fragments himself. He’d likely run into Ethelred eventually that way.

That was, sadly, as good of a plan as Elias was likely to come up with.

Once again, he couldn’t help but wish he’d managed to drag the half-dead necromancer along. He seemed clever enough to be of help. Even if he was just about as petty as he was crafty. It was a shame he’d chosen to simply wait for death rather than do anything about it. 

For a moment, Elias had thought the man to be more tenacious. Perhaps it was due to the gleam in his eyes when he glared at Elias, or maybe it was just because of how viciously he’d struggled against him. Even while being clearly shaken by Ethelred’s presence, Elias had watched the exhausted looking necromancer continue to fight back. Only for that strength of will to all but vanish once Ethelred was gone, leaving a dying man too tired to do more than wait for the end to come for him. The thought was enough to bring a scowl to Elias’ face. 

I didn’t even bother to ask his name, he thought, wishing he’d had the mind to do so. There had just been too much going on—too many things to make sense of and process. And for Elias, there was also a deep rage towards Ethelred for using him along with anger at himself for allowing it. Then, there was the grief at what was promised and then denied to him.

Elias was brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of a cool drop of water splashing against the top of his head. He looked up at the sky, squinting as a couple more drops followed. 

“Just what I needed,” he muttered, resigned to a far more miserable trek than he’d hoped. It was likely a good thing he was used to traveling under even worse conditions. A light drizzle was nothing to him. 

The real trouble were the men following him. 

He’d not noticed at first, too distracted by his thoughts. It was only the sound of feet scuffing against the ground that alerted him. Elias remained calm, walking down the road at a steady pace. All the while, he was listening carefully, trying to discern just how many trailed after him. His eyebrows knitted together as he heard the sloppy shuffling from behind.

Then, he noticed the smell—a sort of rot that pervaded the air and nearly made him want to gag. It was this, more than anything, that made it clear what he was dealing with. 

Finally Elias stopped and turned, hand hovering over the dagger hanging from his belt. He froze for a moment at the sight that met his eyes. 

There were three men, dressed in frayed clothing stained with dirt and blackened blood. Their weathered hands clasped swords which were soon pointed at Elias. Most striking though, were their eyes—empty of any sort of awareness as they faced the thief. It was the stare of dead men. 

A shiver ran down Elias’ spine as the thought struck him. 

“Ethelred’s work, no doubt,” he muttered, readying to defend himself. 

The only other thought in his mind was that, at the very least, there was no need to hold back.