“Mortem tactu serpens,” Cuwin muttered. “The old tongue.”

He regarded himself in the mirror of his small cabin aboard the Arbiter. With a high hairline of short-cropped greying hair, his chest and stomach were still as chiseled as a statue.

But as a Banisher of Evil, he had always known he would not die soft and aged. I fear no evil—only that I cannot continue destroying it. My time is come.

“The death touch of the serpent.” He smirked in wry amusement. It was a slow curse, but a fatal one—something no Banisher or known magicker he knew of, could reverse the effects of.

Lowe did not know. Cuwin was afraid to tell him. In his rage at my death, he will seek out evil until it kills him.

He touched his arm. The fear in his stomach palpable. Not for himself, but for Lowe, as the Banisher knew he must know—if not now, later. His death would eventually reveal what had happened. But Cuwin did not have the intention of waiting that long.

No. No, I should tell him when we arrive home.

With the Lord Summoner escaped, he had no recourse to get himself killed. At least not immediately. Perhaps the anger at Cuwin’s death that Lowe would feel would eventually subside, and so he could go on fighting evil as he ever did—as a good Knight of the Order of the Purging Flame.

The serpent wasn’t moving, but when it did, Cuwin could feel its grasp—its constricting hold on his life-force. It wasn’t unknown, though rare it was. Eventually the pain would be difficult to bear. In the end, it would be excruciating, until the serpent’s coil eventually snuffed him out.

And then…

It was hard to think about. But it would not happen to Cuwin. The horrors of which, though brought a chill to him.

I will not become a lich.

Lowe would kill him first—burn his cursed corpse to destroy the magic. I can only hope to the gods that my death doesn’t break him. May he find solace in that I do not regret might actions to fight evil.

* * *

Lowe stood at the prow of the Arbite. He watched the water as he contemplated their attempt at capturing the Lord Summoner. With so many deaths, it was time to return home. But Lowe had the intention of beseeching the Council of High Judgment for a chance to organize a new party to pursue the necromancer king.

I saw you, Lowe thought. The Twin Cities. That was what he saw through the portal as the Lord Summoner made his escape. The Great Arch Gate and the Palace of Water, known also as Okukan Palace, he had recognized. To Lowe, a well-travelled warrior, the images he saw had been unmistakable.

I will pursue you—and destroy you.

With Cuwin at his side and a company of faithful Knights and warriors at his back—nothing could stop Lowe—and all those who died fighting their evil would not be lain to rest for nothing.

A plot was afoot. That much was certain. The Twin Cities was at the center of it. And the Hurgamon Empire. How was it involved?

He needed to speak to Cuwin.

Together, the Banisher and Lord of the Pruging Flame would take this information to the Council.

The evils of the Necrophiliad will then be met in a final confrontation.

“Lord Lowe?”

He was broken out of his thoughts, turned to regard Nivin. “What is it?”

The young Knight caste his gaze at the deck.

“Speak.”

“We lost this battle today, didn’t we?”

Lowe looked at him, felt a tinge of anger and annoyance. Not at Nivin—but at the damage to their morale the Necrophiliad had on them.

“No,” he said firmly as he stood up straight. He put his hand on the young warrior’s shoulder. “We took losses. But do not forget that every one of us who died fighting in the Spire Keep died fighting evil. And this battle has just begun.”

Nivin looked at him in astonishment. It was clear he wanted to know what Lowe meant by that. “Fetch Cuwin. We have much to discuss concerning the immediate future.”

“Yes, my lord!”

The young Knight turned and strode down the deck, an urgency in his gait. He has a lot of spirit.

He will need it for what’s to come.