Mudge slaughtered his way happily through the army of rats, snatching each corpse and stuffing it into his bucket. If I didn't know it was enchanted, I'd have expected it to have been overflowing with entrails by now.
Thankfully, he could probably stuff the entire population of Waggenrook in the thing and still have room for Thistleburrow.
Above the panicked squeaks, his gleeful laugh boomed loudly. "Ho ho ho!"
While Reginald scrambled for the window.
And found it locked.
He hammered at it with his wand but quickly discovered how hopeless it was.
"If you don't mind," I called, waving my half-empty glass at him. "We are in the middle of a duel, aren't we? It's dreadfully rude of you to run away halfway through."
"This can't be happening," he croaked. He was looking very pasty about the gills. I wasn't sure how much life energy he had left in him.
For me, I felt a little woozy, but I wasn't entirely sure how much of that was caused by the gin.
I threw a handful of condensed balls at him.
Which he managed to block with a desperate grunt.
"Tch," I hissed. "Only twelve again."
"Stop it!" Reginald howled. "Damn you, stop it! Just give me a moment to think!"
"What?" I frowned at him. "That's a bit irregular, don't you think? The whole point of a necromantic duel is one of attrition. To wear down one's foe with a combination of minions and condensed energy. Isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," he panted, his eyes wet and glittering with unshed tears. "Just… give… me a… second…"
"Hmph." I downed the last of my gin and held the glass out to Grimsby. "Well, I suppose I do need another gin and tonic. Actually, make it a gimlet, will you?"
"Of course, sir."
I didn't even hear him leave.
A little disappointed in how easy the duel had been, I leaned against the mantle and enjoyed the warmth of the fire glowing against my thighs. Mudge was finishing off the last few rats.
His eyes were ablaze with dark yellow light. The more he killed the brighter the light would become until his eyes were like twin suns burning through anything he gazed at. He was a creature made entirely for destruction.
An Abomination.
If the Mage Guild knew what he was and that he was here, I'm fairly sure they would collectively wet themselves. I wondered when I should tell them.
Not yet, I decided.
They'd already had an eventful week.
Best to save it for another time.
Reginald leaned against the wall near the window. He was hunched over and looked close to having a heart attack. He wasn't even bothering to read his grimoire.
Sweat dribbled off his chin and down his robe.
He was trembling quite violently as he lifted his eyes to me. "I don't suppose we can discuss this like two civilised necromancers, can we?"
"I doubt it," I said apologetically. "You did break into my home with the intent to kill me."
"Yes," he sighed. "But it was a good plan."
That surprised me. "It was?"
"I thought so," he said. "The array should have limited your void powers. Marlow swore it would. He told me it had before."
"Marlow?"
"Jellop Marlow. He got away from you. Two years ago, I think?"
"Ah," I scratched my nose. "One of the last rats who came through, was he? Yes, I remember one of them had a clever little teleportation token."
"I couldn't afford one."
"Tsk." I wagged my finger at him. "I already upgraded the array here and it wouldn't have worked for you anyway."
"Not even Ellefson's version?"
"That was the first I warded against. Even Vox's wouldn't let you out." I smiled at him. "I was very thorough."
"Bugger."
"Yes."
"Excuse me," Mudge put in, stepping between us. He was drenched in blood and offal and thick gore oozed off his cleaver. "I don't suppose you have any more, do you?"
"No," Reginald said tightly. "No, I don't?"
"I can wait if you want to summon some more," Mudge said. "I don't mind."
"That was all I had," the necromancer growled.
"Pity. I really enjoyed that," he said, giving his shoulders a stretch. "I don't get much exercise."
"I don't want to be seeing any mystery meat on the menu," I said, squinting at him.
Mudge gave me a shocked look. "I would never!"
I squinted a little more.
"Well," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "That was one time…"
"One time?"
"Alright, a couple of times." He lifted the bucket sadly. "But it's not good to waste perfectly good meat."
"It's Plague Rat," I sighed. "That's not good for anything."
"Might be good for sausages."
"Mudge!"
"Alright, alright. Keep yer knickers on," he said, shuffling towards the door. "I was just bloody saying is all. I wasn't gonna make them into actual sausages. Well. Except maybe one or two. Don't look at me like that! It was for personal use!"
"If I see a single Plague Rat sausage in my house, I'll feed you to Noodle!"
"No sausages in the house," he said, his brain performing a few calculations I didn't want to know about. "Got it."
"Mudge…"
"I swear! Not a single sausage in the house."
And before I could say anything more, he rolled out the door.
A little too quick, I thought.
"He's up to no good," I told the Dark Knight, who was staring at me. "I can tell."
The Dark Knight nodded.
I glanced at Reginald. "How did you stop yours from speaking?"
"I didn't give them vocal cords."
"I didn't give any to Mudge or Grimsby," I growled. "But it hasn't stopped them."
"It's due to the complexity of the array, sir," Grimsby said, appearing out of nowhere and handing me a gimlet. Which I took with a scowl. "The gentleman's summoning array is inferior to your own."
"Inferior?" Reginald sputtered. "I used Feralson and Jeck's! It's the best Dark Knight array there is!"
"Oh, please," I sniffed at him. "Don't make me laugh. Feralson's Death Well doesn't even work properly."
"Yes it does! I have one!"
"Then you should know," I countered. "For every soul you put into it, you only get back a portion of that soul's life energy."
"So?"
"Well, that's damned inefficient!"
"You think you can do better?"
"Of course I can," I said, taking a sip of the gloriously lime-drenched gimlet. "I have one in the basement. It squeezes every last drop of life energy. As my cook told you, it's not good to waste resources."
"Can I…" He twitched nervously. "Could I trouble you to see it?"
"Soon," I promised with a wide grin.
He shuddered, understanding exactly what I meant. His mouth formed a thin line as he tried to find his spine again. "I'll… I'll just go see it when we've finished the duel," he said bravely.
"Good luck with that," I said. Then turned to the Dark Knight.
Grimsby was right.
The array was inferior. It was leaking life energy, which was forcing the creature to prioritise how it used the remaining energy. Most of it was going into just standing in place.
That's why it had moved slowly.
"Hmm." I peered closer.
The runes were out of sequence down its arm.
And the helm was a complete mess. The joins which should have linked the helm to the skull beneath were poking through the metal. They'd clearly been done too hastily.
There was no precision.
No attention to detail.
Even one of its toes was missing. This made it lurch rather than walk smoothly.
"This," I waved a hand at the creature. "This is very sloppy work."
"How dare you," the necromancer snarled. "That Knight is my life's work!"
"You wasted your life, then," I said, sipping on my gimlet as I bent down to check the belt. That, too, wasn't attached properly to the rest of the frame. I could see there was a whole section of runes missing, and some were jumbled around the buckle.
I tapped the breastplate.
A hollow metallic sound answered.
"You didn't even reinforce the plate," I said with a shake of my head. "And you've forgotten to add Mitchim's binding runes here. And here. Tsk. Is this Merkle's binding runes?"
"What's wrong with Merkle?" He stamped his foot with an outraged snarl. "Everyone agrees his bindings are the best! Everyone!"
"For zombies," I said with a dismissive flick of my fingers. "This is a Dark Knight. Its base is a skeleton, so these bindings are pretty much only making it tickle. It's a good thing you at least had the sense to add Spirit Shackles or else it would have killed you already. As it is, it has almost eroded them and would have killed you in about a month or so."
"Lies!" He thumped the wall with his fist. "You're trying to make me doubt my power! I won't fall for this nonsense."
"And what's this? No. You didn't. You tried to link the greaves with Life Chains?" I looked at him in disbelief. "Are you a complete moron? Why wouldn't you use Life Cords?"
"Life Chains provides greater necrotic feedback than Life Cords!" Reginald shouted, his cheeks flushing. "I thought it would be better. And my initial tests showed the greaves were stronger!"
"At the cost of being extremely brittle. Grimsby could break these with a single tap."
"He's a lich," the necromancer said bitterly. "I'm fairly sure he could break anything with a tap."
"Alright, I could break these with a hammer."
"I bet you couldn't."
"I bet I could."
"How much-"
"A gentleman doesn't bet," I said, sighing as I shook my head at the poor quality on display. I patted the Dark Knight's shoulder. The creature had slumped a little during my inspection. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fault your former master is useless."
Reginald choked on a series of curses which I won't repeat here.
The Dark Knight let out a small moan.
I handed Grimsby my empty glass. He took it and took one step to my right to stand between me and the necromancer.
"What are you doing?" Reginald asked, his voice rising an octave. Which was impressive given it had already been out-squeaking his Plague Rats.
"Fixing a mistake," I said.
I raised my hand and murmured dark words. Evil words. Words which were never mean to be spoken.
The foul language of necromancy.
The Dark Knight shuddered as the runes were stripped from every part of its armor. And then it writhed as I pulled out every link, every chain, and every cord which had bound the spirit to this shell.
With a clatter, the armor crashed to the floor around my feet.
Light burst from within as something slipped free of its broken shackles. It rose slowly. A pale vision of death. Its featureless face stared at me as it floated over the rubble.
With an exhale of breath, it could freeze my blood.
With a swipe of its arm, it could rend my soul.
"Stop it," Reginald cried. "Stop what you're doing immediately! That's my Knight! It's mine, damn you!"
"Grimsby, would you mind entertaining our noisy guest?" I never took my gaze from the Vengeful Spirit. They could be spiteful little things. "I'm afraid I have something a little more urgent to attend to…"