ERIC

  Eric and Timmy crept down the steps of the crypt, making Eric smile in spite of himself. It was good to be back on the job. The domed chamber opened up before them, revealing a layer of mist that rippled across the uneven floor. Lanterns illuminated the stone coffins lining the walls, each coated in a mess of cobwebs. Eric wondered who kept all the lanterns lit. It was almost as if someone wanted to make the dungeon adventure-friendly. He shivered. Somehow the air was thicker down there.

  ‘I’m scared, Eric,’ whispered Timmy, his apprentice. He was frail, pale as the moon and twice as spotty. His filthy overalls were oversized, making him seem much younger than he was. Faded lettering barely revealed the words:

  Beast Be Gone - Pest Control

  Eric gave the boy a pat on the back, which knocked him forward. ‘Don’t worry, we can handle a lich. Easy. Just try to think of it as a disgruntled skeleton and do everything like I told you.’ Eric had seen Timmy recite all five hundred and twenty-six undead anti-curses. Poor kid. If only he could have a little more confidence in himself. It was a shame there was so little fieldwork to take him on.

  ‘But that was days ago! What if I forget?’ Timmy glanced around. He jumped as he brushed a cobweb, tripped and went crashing to the ground.

  Timmy tried to stand but noticed the bodies hidden under the mist. Huge human barbarians, thin elven mages and tiny pixie thieves lay all around. Each adventurer twisted into an inhumane position, all covered in dried blood.

  Timmy got to his feet. ‘There are so many!’ he whimpered, as he clutched Eric’s sleeve.

  ‘Well of course. Demi-lich ain’t nothing to be sniffed at.’ Eric readjusted his leather overalls, which were stained with ghoul blood that refused to wash out. If this went well he might be able to afford a new pair.

  ‘But…where will the lich be?’

  Eric chuckled to himself. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Timmy. There’s some stuff you can’t get from books and teaching. Real-world experience like this is invaluable. You see, a lich is always at the end. Usually hiding in the biggest coffin. Even adventurers know that.’ Eric pointed up at the altar. ‘My guess is right there.’

  There was a whooshing sound as the largest coffin at the end of the room burst open and a skeletal form floated out. Blue smoke swirled around its ragged robes, its face a hollow skull beneath a rusted crown. It turned its empty eye sockets upon the pair.

  I AM THE LICH KALAKZAR! BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, PUNY MORTALS…

  ‘What did I tell you? Right, hand me my Sack of Clutching, Timmy.’

  ...AND PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM.

  ‘Now what we need is a Spirit Stone. Probably level three. Hmm… here it is.’

  FOR MANY YEARS I HAVE LAIN IN WAIT…

  ‘Oh no, that’s a level two. Let me have another look.’

  ...TO FIND A HERO WORTHY ENOUGH TO DEFEAT ME.

  ‘Here we are Timmy, time to kill your first lich. Ready?’

  DARE YOU CHALLENGE THE MIGHTY LICH KALAKZAR?

  ‘Hold the Spirit Stone like this. No, not like that…’

  ...ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?

  ‘Okay, that’s it. Keep steady.’

  I’M RIGHT HERE.

  ‘Now remember, aim it at his heart, that’s the weak spot.’

  I USED TO BE KING, YOU KNOW. I WAS KIND OF A BIG DEAL…

  There was a flash of light and a high pitched wail as the lich was sucked into the stone.

  Then silence.

  Timmy looked down at the stone glowing an eerie blue in his hands. It let out a gentle hum as it pulsed.

  ‘Well done!’ announced Eric. ‘See? Not so hard after all?’

  ‘If it’s not so hard,’ said Timmy, voice trembling. ‘Why did it kill so many adventurers?’

  Eric laughed heartily. ‘Adventurers are only in it for the glory and “Experience”. It would take all the fun out if they just dispelled the monsters or poisoned them like we do. Plus our tricks are a trade secret. Heck, half the time we can persuade the creatures to leave with a few compliments or a bribe.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Now be careful, we don’t want to…’

  But as he said it, the stone slipped from Timmy’s hands and shattered on the ground. Blue flames erupted from the shards as the undead creature rose once again.

  Eric sighed.

  I AM THE LICH KALAKZAR! BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, PUNY MORTALS…

  ‘Oh no!’ shrieked Timmy. ‘What do I do? What do I do?’

  ‘Relax,’ said Eric as he rifled through his Sack of Clutching. ‘Let me get a Lesser Dispel Undead Scroll out, we don’t have another stone. Here, you take it. You need to learn how to use it.’

  ...AND PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM.

  Timmy took the scroll in his shaking hands. ‘I’m not ready,’ Timmy stammered. ‘I’ve never done it before.’

  ‘Then now’s the perfect time to learn. Go on, just read it out.’

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  FOR MANY YEARS I HAVE LAIN IN WAIT…

  ‘Lichus disspellus magicum exlodus…’

  ‘No, no, no, not disspellus, it’s disspellus’

  ...TO FIND A HERO WORTHY ENOUGH TO DEFEAT ME.

  ‘I’m not ready! Can you do it, Eric? I’m too scared!’ Timmy looked frantically between the lich, the scroll and Eric.

  ‘You need to learn to work under pressure Timmy.’

  DARE YOU CHALLENGE THE MIGHTY LICH KALAKZAR?

  ‘Lichus disspell…’

  Timmy exploded into a bloody mess. Entrails flew everywhere. The lich laughed as he held out his staff, which emitted a trail of smoke.

  Eric winced and wiped a bit of Timmy from his face. Now, why did he have to go and do that? Why couldn’t he have just read it out properly? Resurrections weren’t cheap. Eric leaned down with a groan and picked the scroll up off the floor.

  He read the incantation and the scroll evaporated along with the lich.

  * * *

  A holy man stood before Eric, his mole costume flapping in the breeze. He raised his head to reveal a frown from a furry hood. ‘You took your time,’ the priest said. ‘I was beginning to think you were dead.’

  Eric could hardly hear him. The wind blew through the trees surrounding the temple, and the man’s voice was soft as a baby elf’s. ‘Well, I'm here now,’ said Eric with a grunt, cleaning the last of the blood from his face with a rag. He took Daisy the mule by the reins and led her over to the water trough. Draped over his mount a banner had the text:

  Beast Be Gone - Pest Control (no dragons.)

  The priest looked him up and down. ‘And you came three days late!’

  Behind him, the temple’s tower cast a looming shadow. Eric wasn’t intimidated by the structure, however. In the land of Fen-Tessai, temples to the Holy Mole God were more common than inns - and he knew which he’d rather be at.

  Eric licked his lips at the thought of his next pint. ‘We’ve been very busy this past week, so this is the earliest we could fit you in.’ He waved his calendar at the priest, being sure to do it fast enough the priest wouldn’t see it was empty except for his monthly bath schedule. ‘We apologise for any inconvenience caused.’ He did his best to sound sincere but was sure his apathy was apparent. At least his apathy stopped him from caring about his apathy.

  The priest spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I shall be sending a formal letter of complaint to your manager.’

  ‘I am the manager.’

  The priest crossed his arms and his two thick fur sleeves enveloped one another. ‘Then I bid you register my disapproval on your report.’

  ‘Right you are then,’ said Eric, pretending to write on his notebook while the priest watched intently. ‘Was it just the lich that was the problem?’

  The priest looked at Eric with disgust. ‘Yes, it was just a lich.’

  ‘Right. Well, that’s all sorted now. A grand-lich, I believe?’

  ‘A demi-lich.’

  Eric drew an intake of breath. ‘Demi-lich, exactly. He needed special equipment, you see.’

  The colour drained from the priest’s face. ‘Oh my. It has killed a lot of adventurers. Although I thought a demi-lich was less powerful than a normal lich?’

  ‘That’s why they need special kit.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Lucky for you I brought everything I needed. But it’ll cost extra I’m afraid.’

  The priest narrowed his eyes. ‘How much exactly?’

  ‘Well, let’s see,’ Eric paused and scratched his chin. ‘Say ten gold for the Spirit Stone... twenty for a Dispel Undead Scroll, plus my standard rate…’ Eric murmured to himself as he added it up. ‘Say ninety gold?’

  ‘But we agreed on fifty!’

  ‘Alright, call it eighty.’

  ‘Sixty. You were late.’

  ‘Deal.’ They shook hands, the priest’s grip weak in Eric’s palm. ‘Had much problem with all the adventurers?’ asked Eric.

  ‘That is precisely why I need your services.’ The priest’s face turned from white to beetroot red. ‘The beastly adventurers have been running amok! The undead creature has lived in the basement for years, but he was never a problem until all these adventurers started to show up. They blunder in, breaking pots and rifling through my things. They have the audacity, the sheer audacity to steal temple property right in front of me.’

  The priest went quiet. He took a few breaths, flapping his hands in front of his face in a failed attempt to hold back the tears. ‘They just knew I could never stand up to them. Have you seen the size of their swords? It’s humiliating is what it is.’

  Eric shook his head. ‘Once word spreads, there’s no stopping ‘em. But you won’t have to worry about adventurers no more, just make sure you post a notice in town saying the crypt is cleared out. We do also offer a prevention package, along with a…’

  The priest cut him off. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you. I’m sure everything will be fine now.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  The priest hesitated a moment. ‘Didn’t you have a companion when you arrived?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh.’ The priest paused a moment, a sly smile crept onto his face. ‘Of course, we do also offer a resurrection service. Only four hundred gold coins...’

  Eric cut him off with a wave of his hand. ‘Not at those prices.’

  ‘If you say so.’ The priest cleared his throat, produced a pouch from his sleeve and handed it to Eric. ‘Well, anyway, thank you for your help, here is your payment. Sixty gold coins, as agreed.’

  Eric did his best not to seem too desperate as he accepted the pouch. It was barely enough to cover the cost of the Lesser Dispel Undead Scroll and the Spirit Stone. He took Daisy the mule by the reins and produced a Scroll of Town Portal from his belt. After muttering the words, they both vanished in a cloud of smoke and lightning.

  Eric and Daisy materialised outside his familiar shop front, startling rats who scampered away across the muddy cobbles. The peeling walls revealed crumbling bricks, which some may have considered trendy. To Eric it was home.

  Barely visible from grime, the window’s lettering read:

  Beast Be Gone

  Creatures in your basement? Undead spooking your castle? Infestation of goblins? Beast Be Gone will clear out those pesky pests and save your health and business.

  (No dragons.)

  He didn’t know how people ever lived without Scrolls of Town Portal. Wherever you were, they would take you home. Although he wasn’t exactly sure how they knew where home was. Occasionally they would teleport him to an inn instead. He was suspicious the Scrolls were being sarcastic.

  Eric tied Daisy inside the shelter behind the shop. It was more like a large cupboard than a stable, but Daisy seemed to like it. He fed her a carrot and went indoors. The room was empty, except for a bookshelf full of faded books, a crossbow on the mantelpiece and a lonely desk in the centre. He’d made very little pawning his things, but it was the only way he could afford food for himself, an apprentice and Daisy. At least there was one less mouth to feed.

  He slumped onto the chair at his desk, produced a bottle from the drawer and poured himself a large glass of cheap whisky. The fiery liquid disappeared in a single gulp. Wiping his mouth, he dipped his quill and then scratched onto a piece of parchment.

  Dear Mr and Mrs Binny,

  I am writing to sadly inform you that your son, Timmy, was fatally injured as part of his apprenticeship. Enclosed is a vial of his blood for resurrection, along with sixty gold pieces to help pay for it.

  I’m sorry.

  Regretfully yours,

  Eric Featherwick

  Eric put down the quill and leaned back. He sat, drumming his fingers and staring at the wall. That was the last of his money. Poor families like Timmy’s rarely bothered with resurrections. It was far cheaper and more enjoyable to make a new son.

  After a while, he stood up and produced a sign from the cupboard. It read:

  Apprentice Vacancy - Enquire Within

  (Five Copper Coins Per Day)

  He placed it carefully in the window, then went over to the plaque on the wall which said:

  Days without injury: 42

  And flipped the numbers to “00”.

  Finally, he sat back in his chair, put his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh.