And Then He Killed My Minion

The hall is wide, with a high ceiling, flagstone flooring and two dozen torches lining the walls. On the dais at one end stands the Lord of Night, appropriately shrouded in black velvet, with his skull adorned throne behind him and his hordes of undead flanking him. Halfway down the hall stands the plucky band of heroes, their battered armour gleaming with internal righteousness and smugness.

How melodramatic. Who doesn’t love a showdown?

“You fools!” the Lord of Night laughs. “You’ve walked right into my trap! Now I will destroy you, and rid the world of its so called ‘heroes’.”

It was scarcely a trap, you idiot. As if anyone was in any doubt why you took a hostage.

Adamus — who, in his great ‘humility’, still refuses to use any of the many titles bestowed upon him over his lifetime of adventuring — steps forward, brandishing his customary club. “That’s what you think! Now hand over the princess, then face your death!”

It’s hardly the stuff of epic ballads, is it? Gods, the bards have their work cut out. Maybe I should give them all a pay rise. Or help them unionise. Ah, here we go-

Right on cue, the Lord of Night yanks a chain, dragging the bound princess out from behind the throne. “Who, this princess?” he chuckles. “But she looks so nice here. She matches my rug.”

Eh… it’s almost there. It would work better if she did match the rug, you idiot. For that matter, what is up with that rug? Your taste in interior decor doesn’t have to be evil as well, you know. There are limits. Or did you decorate this place in the dark?

“Hand her over!” Adamus yells. The rest of his party stir as well, all opposed to seeing their bounty in someone else’s hands.

“It’s all right, princess!” shouts Casey as she draws her knives. “We’ll get you out of here. I promise!”

It wasn’t all that long ago that you’d have been the one kidnapping royalty, you hypocrite. I wonder if the world wouldn’t have been done a favour if Adamus had just killed you when you tried to pickpocket him, instead of ‘redeeming’ you?

Under Casey’s distraction, Adamus addresses his back line. “Have you got a clear shot, Xanda?”

“No,” the mage whispers back. “Not yet. There’s still some forcefield around him, blocking my magic.”

“Okay. As soon as you can, do something. Keep him occupied. Grace, be ready with the healing, got it?”

“Of course. The goddess is ready.” Grace starts muttering prayers under her breath, one hand on her mundane healing supplies while the words for her magical ones dance across her mind.

Such leadership, such tactical prowess. Telling your team to do the same thing they’ve done in every bloody fight you’ve ever had. Just in case the ‘mage’ and the ‘healer’ forget why they are here.

“Good good.” Adamus turns back to his arch nemesis, the man who has haunted him for years. “This is the end, Lord of Night! This is where you die!”

Probably. I just hope he gives me my money’s worth.

Adamus raises his bespoke, hand carved, gold-filigree encrusted club, which has been praised and blessed by priestesses and courtesans the land over. “For the gods! For the kingdom! And for the princess!”

“For the princess!” His loyal team echo, before they all charge into combat against the vile forces of darkness.

For the money! Don’t forget that one, dear Adamus. After all, you’re going to need another restoration spell on that hairline soon.

And so it begins; the great battle of good versus evil.

Again.

~~~

Broken bones lie like a carpet of autumn leaves, the occasionally splash of bright red blood adding some desperately needed colour. The torches still flicker, same as ever, a little more burnt out but unaffected by the endless, gruelling slog that they’ve been witness to.

The living beings in the room, however, are a mess. Even Adamus has lost the smile from his face; the only one who still has any level of dignity is Xanda.

And only because I’m pretty certain she deliberately holds back some magic to keep her hair in place. Seriously, that whole fight and not a single smudge of dirt on her? Pull the other one, darling.

“It’s over, Lord of Night!” Adamus yells.

The Lord of Night — or what’s left of him, after all the attacks on his mind, body and spirit — lies sprawled at the foot of his dais. He tries to crawl away, but his broken arm gets caught on a chunk of his armour that’s been detached and he just ends up whining piteously. One of his eyes is black and already swollen shut, and his face is too thin for all the cuts and bruises on it.

I’m glad I never bothered to do face to face interviews. I can see why he wears that ridiculously over done armour. That isn’t a face for evil. For pity’s sake, he can’t even grow a proper beard!

Adamus comes to stand over the Lord of Night. With a tap from his boot he flips the fallen lord over, then glowers down at him. “I said it’s over.”

Somehow the Lord of Night manages to laugh, even though it forces the tears from his eyes. “With me, it is,” he croaks. Blood starts bubbling round his lips. “But it was never me you were really dealing with.”

“What?” snaps Casey.

Yes indeed, what!?

“I was never the one in charge of everything. It wasn’t me who decided to attack the kingdom, who orchestrated the different invasions, who planned the raids on the docks and the treasury.” Every word is agony to him, but it’s worth it for the look of horror spreading over the heroes faces. “You see, I was just another pawn. Just another decoy. There’s an even greater villain behind all of this, someone who just wants to watch the world burn for the sake of it. And…” His dramatic pause is almost fatal, as he starts coughing on the blood from his lungs.

Adamus grabs him and shakes. “And what? Who is it? Who’s in charge of all of this!?”

“They— they are—”

Don’t you bloody dare!

The Lord of Night fixes each of them with a gleeful glare. “They are coming. And they will kill you.”

And with that, the Lord of Night, scourge of the kingdom for almost a decade, dies, in front of a broken throne, in the remains of his ravaged halls.

Oooh… you were worth the money! You couldn’t have done that better if I’d staged it myself. Well done, my poor dead fool of a minion. You shall be missed, I guess.

Adamus drops the body with a disgusted snort. “Great.”

“So much for retirement,” Casey says with a bitter grin.

“I can’t ask the rest of you to stay on.” Adamus shakes his head. “This was supposed to be the end, to be our last job. Goddess, why do these people keep hiding in shadows!?”

Because it’s fun? Also, do you have any idea of the size of the target on your back for being so well known? Why would I voluntarily tell you who I am? No thanks! I like being able to sleep in peace. Well, mostly in peace…

“Don’t be an idiot, Adamus. We’re all still with you. We all want to see this through to the end.” Casey turns to the rest of their party. “Isn’t that right? Xanda, Grace?”

“Of course we’ll stay,” Xanda says.

“Who would be there to fix you up if I left?” Grace says.

It’s not what I had planned, but I guess I can make this work. So much for that short vacation, but that was never really my style anyway.

Adamus claps Casey on the shoulder, bows to Xanda, then goes and clasps both of Grace’s hands. “Thank you, all of you. I never would’ve been able to do this without you.”

“But we are here, so you don’t have to do it alone,” Grace says, with her sweet little smile, squeezing Adamus’ hands back.

“You especially, Grace. You keep us honest, and keep us breathing. What more could I ask for in a friend?”

Someone who comes with an aura of perfume? Do you have any idea how much you reek in that armour? Even the skeletons could smell you.

Grace’s smile grows, until she and Adamus are beaming at each other, as they’ve done at the end of so many battles and skirmishes. “I’ve been with you since the start, Adamus. I’ll be with you to the end.”

“Thank you, my oldest friend.” Adamus gives Grace a kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the usual post-combat chores.

“Any time, Adamus.”

Any time, ‘old friend’. After all, how better to get a good view, than to be right behind you as you finally fall?