They ran.

“How could he possibly know about us?” Sam asked as they dashed through the streets of Melloram back towards the dungeon. “He’s supposed to have been regenerating back in Phyrexis, isn’t he?”

“You’re asking me?” Araxes shot back, his bone feet clacking against the cobblestone as he kept pace. “Tolliver I barely understand how I function as I do, and now you expect me to know what other malfunctions your orboid hussy might have caused in the process?”

“She’s not orboid anymore,” Sam smirked. “You’re gonna have to come up with some new descriptives.”

“Blast. You’re right. I’ll devote a brain cell to it when I have the time.”

“The lich has a teleport chamber but hasn’t teleported in,” Pop said, thumping along beside Sam. “Why?”

“Blasted thing was always causing problems,” Araxes grumbled. “Calibration errors, resonance fluctuations… Once it was shut down for three weeks because a bloody fly landed on the wrong mana circuit. Knocked out power to half the capitol. If the other me has not appeared yet, it is because the deuced thing is on the fritz again.”

“So we can assume we’ve got some time,” Ma said. “How much?”

“An hour, a day, a week,” Araxes shrugged expressively. “Impossible to say.”

“Well isn’t that just dandy,” Ma grumbled. “So we have a 400 year-old undead monstrosity about to come down on us like the shiny end of a hammer, and we’re not sure when it will happen.”

“Just like old times, dear,” Pop chuckled.

Sam couldn’t help but smile as they ran. God in his heaven it was good to have them back.

As they hit the main street, still crowded with work crews clearing away the dead, a new voice rang out. “Sam! Hey Sam! What’s going on?”

Nat pulled up beside Sam and fell in step beside him. He was a tall rangy elf teen with long blonde hair and freckles across his pale features. His long strides ate up the ground with truly annoying ease. Sam always felt like a dwarven coal giant next to his friend.

“Trouble,” Sam said. “We’ve—“

“Hey, captain Ard Shi,” Nat blanched as he recognized the guardsman. “What’s going… You’re not arresting Sam are you? Is that what’s going on?”

“Please go about your business,” the watch captain said in a strained voice. “This does not concern—“

“He is under arrest for treason against the crown,” Milthorne said acidly. “As best we can, at any rate.”

“Arrest!?” Nat screeched to a halt and stared, then started running again. “Sam, they’re arresting you?”

“What?” A pair of orcs shoveling undead parts into a pile looked up. “Chief, you okay?”

Sam opened his mouth to shout an affirmative—

“He’s under arrest!” Nat yelled.

“Oh here we go,” Ma muttered under her breath as heads started to pop out of windows and from around buildings. Melloram was a small town, one that had only just started building up again when Araxesendenak had announced his intention to build a dungeon nearby. And in a small town, everyone was interested in everyone else’s business.

“What?” The orcs dropped their shovels and moved into the runners’ path, their hands going to the axes on their belts. “Chief, say the word and these goons are kibble.”

“You will remove yourself,” Milthorne said, “or you will face the full penalties of the law as well. Ard Shi, clear these miscreants from the path.”

Ard Shi said nothing. The rangy man was staring at one of the orcs, a tall woman, bald except for a single braid falling from the back of her head down almost to her knees.

“I know you,” he said.

“Kereshe Stormfollower,” she said, eyeing the man up and down. “You were among the prisoners I helped escort away from the prison.”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly. “That was it.”

"Will you move?” Milthorne snapped.

The orc shot Sam a glance. “Not until Chief says it’s okay.”

“Then you’re under arrest as well. Captain, do your duty.”

The watchman slowly reached up and removed his flat-cap helmet. “No ma’am, I don’t believe I will.”

“What?”

Sam glanced around. A crowd was starting to gather. Townsfolk and dungeon mobs being pulled in from the side streets and houses by the commotion. News traveled fast in a small town, and street theater was almost always appreciated. Voices were raised, and questions shouted.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s Sam! Something’s happening!”

“Hey, it’s Jack and Annie too! Hey Jack, what’s going on? Your kid in trouble?”

“They’re givin’ it a shot,” Pop hollered back, and an ugly murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Okay, let’s hold up a second,” Sam called out, holding up his hands. “Yes, I’m technically under arrest, but I’ve been given leave to go back to my dungeon.”

“Because they couldn’t stop us if they tried,” Ma said in that special low voice that manages to be both quiet and still loud enough to be heard across a crowded room.

“And right now that’s where I need to be. So, could you folks kindly just clear a path and—“

“Why the rush, Sam?” He recognized that voice; Mr. DeHenessey, the grocer. A big man with hands the size of hamhocks. “Something brewing?”

“The lich is coming,” Pop said shortly. “We need to get ready for him.”

Silence dropped like a knife. Everyone on the street went wide-eyed and slack-jawed, except for the mobs, who just looked grim.

“What… What’s King Araxesendenak coming here for?” a voice from the crowd asked nervously.

“To destroy this abomination and personally take charge of these traitors,” Milthorne shrilled triumphantly, flinging a hand out towards Sam.

“I’m not part of your kingdom,” Sam said mildly. “I can’t be a traitor.”

“I think the closest you can get is ‘enemy of the state,” Ma said thoughtfully.

“’Radical terrorist’ has a nice ring to it,” Pop commented.

“It doesn’t matter,” the venom in the councilwoman’s voice was staggering. “My lord will be here soon, and then he will crush you, like bugs under a boot.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Sam shot back. “If your bone-head dictator thinks I’m just gonna roll over and let him stomp on me, he’s got less rattling around inside his skull than I thought.”

“Point of order,” Araxes held up a bony finger. “Let us please remember that any insults directed at my doppelganger might also fall upon me by proxy.”

Sam gave the lich a tight grin. “You stuck by us against the revenant. You clearly have even less in your skull than the other one.”

“Thank you. I feel ever so much better now.”

“You’re gonna fight King Araxesendenak?”

Sam turned at the little voice. A halfling boy, who couldn’t have been older than 13 judging by the color of the hair on his feet, was standing there staring up at him.

“If he forces it,” Sam said.

“Which he will,” Araxes muttered.

“Then yeah, we will.” And unless we’re very lucky and very prepared, he’s going to mash us into paste and then set us on fire.

A low murmur started building in the little crowd. The townsfolk, still barely recovered from their ordeal with the revenant, turned to each other and started talking animatedly. No one was getting the hell out of the way.

“My lord will destroy you,” Milthorne hissed. “And when he does, I will dance upon your graves.”

“Okay,” Sam clapped his hands together. “Just hit my limit. I need to get back to the dungeon,” he said to his parents. “Can you handle this?”

“Easily,” Pop said.

“Bloodily, if need be,” Ma growled. She’d been glaring at Milthorne ever since the woman had called Sam a traitor.

“Try not to kill anyone please,” Sam said with a little smile. “I think we’re gonna need to stay in their good graces.”

“My son,” Ma sighed. “Ever the soft one. Go do what you need to do, Sam.”

“And quickly,” Araxes added, eyeing the gathering crowd. “We’re on the clock now.”

“Right.” He nodded to the mobs now closing in in a ring around them. “Follow their orders. I’m heading off.”

“Got it Chief,” Kereshe said, her eyes still on Ard Shi. And there was appraisal in that dark gaze.

Oh lord, just what I need. He should have expected it though. The mobs were people, just like anyone else. And they were in a body again after… Who knew how long.

“Be gentle,” he murmured to her, and received only a sharp-toothed grin in response.

“What do you think you’re doing?“ Milthorne was trying to push forward to Sam. “If you’re thinking of escaping—“

Sam rolled his eyes. Lord save him from petty bureaucrats. “I’m not escaping,” he said. “But I am leaving.” and his eyes went to the list of quick-button icons on the right of his display. Many of the powers he had access to both from his own levels and from his Core Guardian class.

One power was labeled ‘Guardian Teleport.’

“With me, Araxes,” he said, holding out his hand. “Gonna need your expertise.”

The lich nodded and grabbed it in his bony grip.

“No!” Milthorne bum-rushed the nearest mob—an orc that must have outweighed her by a hundred pounds—and shoulder-checked him out of the way.

Her hand closed on his wrist just as he hit the Teleport button. The world went white, he felt the familiar tugging feeling as his form was jerked away from one spot and magically transported to another… And when his vision cleared he was back in the central chamber of the dungeon. Araxes was next to him, finishing the sigh he’d started when the teleport activated.

And Milthorne was standing on the other side, hand still clu her eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Where have you taken me? You are abducting a lawful representative of King Araxesendenak! Release me at once!”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was going to be one of those days.