It turned to me but did not attempt to attack. Its eyes fell upon the white blade, and it stayed where it was.

  “I watched from below, you held no such weapon of power. Where did it come from?”

  I remembered back to my first sword lesson upon entering the Shallowlands. My teacher, the Servant of Light, taught me a defensive position from which he said that all the notable strikes of honor and righteousness arose.

  I assumed the first position.

  The beast took a second step back. “You are no paladin. You are an upstart enchanter. The master knows of you and your pathetic attempts to thwart him.”

  “I stand before you and come from Between. I stand with more power than you can possibly imagine, spawn of darkness. And I stand with two clerics of the light and two wizards of the light. You know what that means for you in this place and at this time.”

  The words came out of my mouth, but they were not my own. I spoke the words, but was led to them by another. It was a presence I could not see, hear, or even sense.

  But I knew that I was not alone.

  I erupted in laughter so intense and joy-filled that my eyes momentarily teared.

  The effect on the demon was pronounced. It took two more steps away from me, stopping at the far edge of the ash circle, and I heard infectious laughter behind me as Steven stepped up just behind me to the right and Paulina to my left. At Steven’s side was Chompers, and at Paulina’s side was Holly.

  We stood before the demon, and I saw fear in its eyes.

  The voice of the Bishop once more echoed in my mind, “Servants of the Light are called, they are not trained.”

  I took one step forward. Then another.

  The others followed close behind, mirroring my steps exactly.

  Whatever fear had entered the eyes of the demon, it was still a formidable opponent. It did not flash red as Old Sergeant had done so long ago under the waters of Shark Bay. But I could sense the raw power in him, and it was far more powerful than our entire group possessed in magical power combined. It was regaining its courage.

  I used another skill point and lunged forward, drawing a searing line of white from one shoulder to the other. “You either depart of your own will, now, or get sent back to the lowest levels of your domain, scratching for centuries to try to recover your current station. I will not offer that mercy a third time.” I said in an even, emotionless voice.

  I took a step forward.

  It took a step back.

  I took another step forward, raising my blade to point at a spot between its eyes.

  It stood in place for the course of three heartbeats, and I lunged forward again at regular speed.

  There was a burst of light, and the beast diminished back into its mote of fire and surged across the room and into the chest of the necromancer, who gulped, lowered his hands, and then stared up at us, surprised.

  “Now!” I yelled.

  Granted, we came down here far better prepared than we were when we ran off to fight during the goblin sneak attack. We certainly were better prepared than we were when the Deathlight struck Keelwell or when my friends and I went swimming with the oysters and sharks. Maybe it was the presence of the infernal combined with the necromancer. But I knew one thing for certain.

  My team cut loose.

  Adriana was the fastest on the draw with her Third Element Air spell called Box Lightning. It was an area of effect lightning bolt. The area was small, but the necromancer was smack dab in the middle of it. He lit up like a Roman candle on the 4th of July. The other elementalist was also fast. Jesse, whose element specialization was fire, cast Fire Blast, which was like a single opponent Third Element fireball spell. The necromancer’s greasy robes caught fire and burned with an oily black and purple color.

  The Wizards both had area of effect Scorching Light spells, which they must have maxed out because not a single crate survived the onrush of two walls of fiery, white light. It had the added effect of clearing out all the ghouls and whatever lurking undead happened to be at the hallway entrances.

  Needless to say, the crates the necromancer had positioned himself behind did not last long, and apparently, he was near some barrels of lamp oil because they exploded in a secondary area of effect explosion. His form was outlined in white flames as the dual spells struck.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Our clerics were not to be outdone. I don’t know which spell Steven cast and which one Paulina cast, but one created a sphere of arcane symbols that circled around the necromancer at a radius of around five feet centered on him, and the other spell, unseen by any of us, caused the necromancer to start screaming at something he tried to fight off with his hands. He ran exactly five feet before he crashed into what was apparently a kind of ward spell and bounced him back into the flames and lightning, collapsing to the ground in agony.

  My contribution had to have the cheesiest name of all, called Wizard Zap. But it was a Seventh Mark platinum ring spell that Wizard Draconis had slipped me recently. If Wizard Bolt was a First Mark spell, this was its really, really beefy and ugly big brother.

  And because it was a wizard spell, I had the advantage of pumping in extra casting points to augment the damage that was already in play with the ring.

  I used twenty additional points from my bracers. And everything I had remaining in me at the time.

  The effect of my spell knocked us all back against the wall and onto the floor. I do seem to recall that Wizard Draconis suggested it was best cast outside, but it was the most powerful “don’t kill all of us instantly in this confined room” spell I had available.

  Still, the spell was strong enough to knock us back and into a less-than-dignified sitting position.

  Needless to say, we got him.

  The smoke cleared by the time we all walked to where the charred remains of the necromancer rested in what turned out to be Pauline’s reversed Ward Against Evil spell. By reversing it, she created a cage rather than a shielded sphere.

  Steven’s praise suggested that it was a unique way to use it and one they would spread around to all the Holy Orders for future use. She admitted that as she stood here, she remembered a discussion she had a couple of weeks ago with the Bishop, and she just knew it would work.

  Both teams moved off to the left and right passages to guard against the undead. There were still thousands of them around here, somewhere.

  The clerics maintained their Holy Lights to keep the teams safe from Shadows and stray undead. The Gray Master, Biff, and Simon stayed with me around the corpse.

  “Whatever notes, magic, or anything else he had on him was destroyed,” Biff observed.

  Bella, is the infernal gone? I asked.

  Yes, Gwydion. That was foolhardy, reckless and… she paused, ...and we will talk when you get home. I am very proud and very angry with you.

  “Bella says that the infernal is gone,” I reported.

  The Gray Master looked up at me. “I owe you everything, Gwydion.”

  I smiled. Looking around, I said. “How do you want to play this with your people?”

  He blanched. “Well, that’s a sticky situation. Technically, we need to kill you for transgressing.” He replied. “Sorry about that.”

  Biff turned, and his gauntlets sparked.

  Simon said, “Actually, I believe that since he sat on the Gray Chair, that makes him the Gray Master. Does it not?”

  We all turned to look at the monk.

  The Gray Master said, “Ah, you know about that, do you?”

  Biff said loudly, “Gwydion is no thief!”

  Members of both teams turned to look at us.

  The Gray Master said, “Quiet down, you big lummox. We are talking this through.”

  “You mean we are negotiating,” I said with a smirk.

  “Same thing.” He replied testily.

  “It is even worse,” Simon stated. “Gwydion did not merely sit on the throne. He was placed on it.”

  The Gray Master snapped, “It is the Gray Chair, not a throne.” He looked at him cagily. “And how does a monk, a holy man by reputation, know so much about the Gray Chair?”

  “Uncle Camalus.” He replied.

  The Gray Master’s eyebrows shot up further than when Bella surprised him from behind.

  “Blood uncle?” He asked.

  “Yes. Sole heir. I’m his one.” Simon said with slight emphasis on the last word.

  The Gray Master scratched his head. “Care to serve as arbitrator?”

  “I accept,” Simon said. “As none others could qualify.”

  The Gray Master nodded acceptance and said, “Explain to him,” as he began to walk away.

  “Shadows,” I said to the Gray Master who stopped at the edge of my Holy Light spell.

  “I’ll remain here, then.” He said and turned his back to us as if a few feet gave us privacy.

  Simon said, “I shall arbitrate negotiations between you and Master Downwin for the Gray Chair and the role of Guildmaster of the Gray Brotherhood.”

  I started to protest, “But I don’t-”

  “Hold your words until I explain.” He said abruptly.

  “Close one.” Master Downwin said with a sigh and turned back to join us.

  Simon continued. “This must be done according to tradition, or shame, dishonor, and chaos could result.

  Biff said, “If we don’t return soon, we may still have that.”

  Simon nodded, “We will be quick.” He turned to Master Downwin and asked, “What do you offer? Blade or Deal?”

  The cloth merchant looked me over and said simply. “Deal. I would not harm the boy.”

  “Then, as the affronted, it is your right to begin.”

  Master Downwin said, “If we go back in there and I am seen as weak, your ally is lost. If I kill you or attempt to kill you-”

  “You will die,” Biff said plainly.

  “Acknowledged.” Master Downwin said, looking around at the journeyman around us. “But the challenge can not go untested. I offer a deal.”

  Simon nodded and turned to me. “Are you open to listening to the deal before resorting to ritual blades?”

  I looked at Simon and at Master Downwin. “Of course I am.”

  Simon turned to Master Downwin and replied, “My uncle took over from his former and beloved master without bloodshed and blades.”

  “Yes, but the old master retired-” He started and then froze.

  Simon nodded. “It is legal if a little unusual.”

  “Unusual?” He exclaimed. “Half of my accumulated treasure for a few minutes of rest upon the Chair?”

  Simon shrugged. “At least fifty percent, as I recall the bylaws.” He emphasized. “Certainly, no less than that. If you both cannot reach terms, a ritual blades ceremony will have to be-”

  The clothier raised his good hand and said, “Yes, yes. I know the laws. It is just outrageous.”

  Simon added, “I believe your exact words were ‘I owe you everything, Gwydion.’”

  “That was spoken outside of this negotiation.” He insisted.

  “I may use any knowledge I possess. I cannot press the point, but it cannot be unsaid.”

  Master Downwin gnashed his teeth for a few moments and then said directly to me, “When we return, you must walk straight to the Chair, sit in it, and explain that you defeated the necromancer. Don’t mention the infernal, that will just upset people more. You will then claim the right of retirement and ask for any candidates among the senior ranks. Hopefully, everyone will be too stunned to compete with me, or I will need to thin my leadership team first.

  I watched them go back and forth. This was a deeper discussion than the surface layer suggested.