Allison stalked toward Jeremiah, who was still dazed from the effort of commanding the red skeleton. He scrambled to his feet as she approached but needn`t have bothered. Allison kicked him square in the stomach, knocking him breathless to the ground.

　　"You`re a necromancer." It wasn`t a question.

　　"Yes," Jeremiah gasped. He searched Allison`s eyes for mercy but found only anger and exhaustion. She raised the tip of her sword to his throat.

　　Bruno limped toward them. He stopped a dozen feet away, staring at Jeremiah with disgust. Jeremiah didn`t have to ask if he`d seen what happened.

　　Delilah gave the now-still zombie warrior a wide birth and began inspecting Allison`s wounds, avoiding Jeremiah`s gaze. "You need a healing potion. I know they`re expensive, but there`s a good chance you`ll get blood poisoning soon otherwise."

　　Allison nodded without taking her eyes off Jeremiah, and Delilah delved into her robes for a bottle of oily red liquid. Allison swallowed the contents. The fingers of her shattered arm wiggled, but the arm still hung limp.

　　Jeremiah wanted to plead his case, but he was terrified that any movement would spur Allison to finish the job. So, he remained silent, hoping against hope that she had had her fill of killing for the day.

　　Bruno and Delilah looked at him, then looked at each other. Allison continued staring at Jeremiah.

　　"We need to get out of here," she said at last. "We`ll deal with him when we get topside, assuming we don`t need to sooner." Her sword fell away.

　　The immediacy of the danger faded, leaving Jeremiah feeling numb. To have come all this way, to have battled and clawed his way to an impossible victory (saving all their lives in the process), only to be cast aside, treated like a problem to be solved&

　　Rage and despair sparked within him. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms, but he hardly noticed. It had been the same thing every time, starting with his family. He was sick of hiding away, of being treated like a monster. These people didn`t understand the first thing about necromancy, but they were still willing to kill him over it. Just because they feared it. Just because necromancy made practical use of death, when most people would rather pretend it didn`t exist.

　　Yet, ignorant though they were, he was at their mercy. Allison no longer held a blade to his throat, but injured or not, her control over the situation was indisputable. Jeremiah gritted his teeth as she relieved him of his dagger and bound his wrists with a length of leather, but was careful not to give her any reason to recant her temporary reprieve.

　　Delilah was busy with the Matriarch`s corpse. "What the hell are you doing?" asked Bruno. "Don`t think it was wearing any jewels."

　　"Do you know the leading cause of death for Matriarchs?" asked Delilah. "Armies. Only a few people in history have credibly killed a Matriarch as part of an adventuring party. If we want anyone to believe we did it, we need a trophy!" She carved off the Matriarch`s undamaged ear with surgical precision and tucked it inside her robes.

　　"What about these Ironwood doors?" asked Bruno. "We`ve got two now, counting the one upstairs." He tugged on the rope tied to the Matriarch`s former breastplate. The door didn`t budge.

　　Delilah frowned. "It`d be a shame to leave one behind. But I don`t see how—"

　　"I can get it upstairs," said Jeremiah. Allison whirled on him, eyes blazing, but he didn`t care. "You want your payoff for this place? I can get that door outside, no problem." At his silent command, the zombie warrior raised its head and began shambling toward them.

　　Allison jumped, apparently not having realized the zombie was still a potential threat. She seized the front of Jeremiah`s robes. "Another step and you`re dead!"

　　"Fine!" Jeremiah shouted back. "Let the Ironwood rot, then, if you`re so scared. Never mind that that zombie saved your lives. Never mind that if I had wanted to kill you, all I had to do was nothing!"

　　"You were just saving your own skin," growled Allison. But her eyes flicked back to Bruno struggling to shift the door, and to the zombie standing stock still, waiting for orders.

　　Delilah spoke, her voice suddenly small in the cavernous space. "Having both doors will almost certainly be worth more than double. If they were commissioned as a set, as I suspect, then being able to fulfill the original order will be even more valuable than the material and craftsmanship alone."

　　Jeremiah blinked. Was Delilah standing up for him? No, of course not—she was just stating the facts. No doubt she`d be more than happy to dispose of him once he`d outlived his usefulness.

　　Allison`s jaw worked as she weighed the decision. Then she released his robes, letting him settle back onto his heels. "It follows behind us," she said. "Far behind. Bruno, you take point. Delilah, cover him. Necromancer, you`re with me. You slow us down or do anything I don`t like, and I`ll hamstring you for the goblins to find. Now move."

　　The group fell into formation. If it weren`t for the tension of the silence, their return journey would have been nearly peaceful. Narrow tunnels had been revealed in the walls and ceiling, explaining how so many goblins had remained concealed. Now, they echoed with the sounds of distant battle. Jeremiah guessed that the loss of the Matriarch`s psychic bond had fractured whatever cohesion had bonded the warren. Bruno dispatched the scant resistance they encountered without difficulty.

　　When they reached the wheeled door, Allison removed Jeremiah`s bonds and ordered him to push the door with Bruno. It was slow going. The wheels were crudely made, and the hallway was a narrow fit. As they struggled, Jeremiah mentally checked that the zombie warrior was still progressing with its burden. A zombie was more than twice as strong as a normal man, but its door lacked wheels. It was thanks only to the tirelessness of the undead that the door moved through the dungeon, inch by inch.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

　　Jeremiah relished their first taste of outside air. Although he was not looking forward to whatever fate awaited him on the surface, he was more than ready to leave the dungeon behind. If he was going to die, he preferred to do so with a fresh breeze on his face.

　　They heaved the door up the entrance stairs with considerable effort, then they were out. The sun was beginning to dip below the tops of the trees, casting the clearing in shadow. Jeremiah glanced around the familiar landscape. It felt like a decade since he had last stood here.

　　"We have to keep moving," said Delilah. "After losing the Matriarch, some of the goblins are likely to calve off to look for new territory."

　　Allison nodded. "Grab your gear. We`re heading north, to White Rock River. We`ll float the doors while we walk and see if we can catch a boat to Dramir."

　　They were setting off again within minutes. As they reached the edge of the clearing, the zombie warrior emerged from the tunnel with the second door in tow. Its sinewy remains flexed with unnatural strength to maneuver its burden. Allison cast it a wary look but didn`t comment.

　　Moving the door through the dense forest was difficult and Jeremiah was nearing exhaustion, but at least he hadn`t been killed yet. He and Bruno communicated only when necessary to navigate the uneven terrain. His zombie followed dutifully at a considerable distance, thankfully requiring little focus to maintain the task. Jeremiah noticed that Allison seemed tolerant enough of the undead when it was benefitting her.

　　They reached White Rock River as the last vestiges of light settled on the horizon. The river was wide and lazy. Nothing disturbed its placid surface as Jeremiah and Bruno finally let their burden rest. Jeremiah rolled the ache out of his shoulders and glanced back toward Allison. Had he outlived his usefulness?

　　Allison paid him no mind, however. "Set partial camp," she said. "No lights. Keep your armor on. We`ll take watch in pairs, so make the most of the sleep you get."

　　Jeremiah quietly unrolled his sleeping sack and arranged it under the emerging stars. It seemed that his reprieve was to extend until morning. None of the others seemed eager to address the issue, and he was grateful for the chance to get some rest.

　　A low, continuous grind announced the arrival of the zombie warrior at the camp with the other door in tow. Jeremiah commanded it to stop.

　　"Right, we don`t need this anymore," said Allison. She drew her sword, strode over to the zombie and plunged the blade into its chest. The zombie remained utterly unfazed. Jeremiah knew it would take more than that to stop the creature but held his tongue. He didn`t want to attract Allison`s attention while she had weapons drawn.

　　Allison swung the sword with a pained grunt, wedging it in the zombie`s neck. The zombie did not seem to notice. She began to hack at it, swinging the sword over and over, her strikes losing their usual finesse, until the blade finally worked through the magically-reinforced remains. Jeremiah`s mental connection with his minion severed as the decapitated zombie collapsed. Now he really was helpless.

　　Allison panted, sword loose in her good hand. She gestured toward Jeremiah without looking at him. "Delilah, put him out. I don`t feel like being throttled in my sleep by some ghoul."

　　Jeremiah balked at the vial Delilah presented him. "I`m not just going to drink poison! If you want to kill me, you`ll have to do it yourself."

　　Delilah scowled. "Don`t insult me, necromancer. None of us would have any problem killing you on your feet. This will put you to sleep and keep you asleep until morning. Now, you can choose to drink up like a good boy, or I can make the choice for you." She glared at him.

　　Jeremiah glared back and quaffed the vial, daring her to be a liar about the contents. But her face softened just a little when he drank it.

　　Satisfied, Allison crawled into her sleeping bag, careful not to jostle her bad arm. She was asleep almost at once.

　　Jeremiah wavered on his feet. He groped for his own bag and pulled himself into it, fighting for lucidity.

　　"We`re not waking her up, right?" Delilah`s voice drifted across the camp.

　　"We`re not waking you up, either," came Bruno`s reply. "I`ll take full watch tonight. If I can`t keep my eyes open, I`ll get you. No arguing."

　　"Take this. It`ll will help you stay awake, but you might be a little twitchy."

　　A rustling sound, and then Delilah`s voice was much closer. "Jeremiah?"

　　Jeremiah managed a grunt in response.

　　"I`m sorry I don`t trust you."

　　A wave of guilt and sadness washed through his exhausted mind. Why did things have to be this way? What else could he have done? Gus emerged from his hidden pocket and nestled by Jeremiah`s cheek. Jeremiah took comfort in his familiar`s unconditional approval.

　　It was impossible to keep his eyes open any longer. As the potion and his own fatigue carried him to sleep, it wasn`t with anger in his heart but with longing for the friendship that could have been.

　　Jeremiah awoke to birdsong. His body felt stiff, and the ground spun like he was drunk. He groaned, and the world began to slow down.

　　The midday sun reflected off the peaceful river. The water lapped gently against the shore, hardly disturbing the tall cattails lining the bank. It would have been a lovely spot had Jeremiah been able to think about such luxuries.

　　Instead, his hands were bound again, his stomach was empty and cramped, his head pounded like a punishment, and his bladder was full to bursting. Worst of all, though, was his burning thirst. He squirmed out of his sack and staggered to water`s edge.

　　Jeremiah dropped to his knees and gulped down long pulls of cool, refreshing water, more delicious than anything he`d ever tasted. The water spread through his body like a soothing salve, easing the ache in his joints and the pain in his skull.

　　Feeling considerably more human, Jeremiah turned back toward the camp and jumped—Allison was seated on a rock barely five feet away. Her left arm had been bound in a sling and her eyes were fixed on him with cold fury.

　　"Look how alive you are," she said. "That`s a gift—you`re welcome. We decided, barely, that we`re not yet going to do the world a favor and kill you. We decided to give the opportunity to explain yourself, on the remote chance that you have anything to say to convince us you deserve to live. Take care of your business in the woods. Bruno is watching. Do anything he doesn`t like, he kills you."

　　Jeremiah did as he was told. The woods were dappled and lovely, fresh with life after the chill of winter. He wished he could linger here forever, but he was wary of Bruno`s surveillance. What could he say to convince them not to kill him? He had imagined countless conversations over the years, helping people to see the error of their prejudice, dazzling them with flawless logic, winning them to his side. Yet these were real people, people he had lied to, and they wielded very real weapons. With great reluctance, Jeremiah returned to the camp.

　　Allison pointed to a log that had been placed facing three others. It seemed this was the stand from which he would defend himself. The log wobbled slightly as he sat.

　　Allison chose the log directly in front of him. Her hard gaze never wavered as they waited.

　　Delilah soon emerged from the woods with a basket of herbs, flowers, and roots. She took her spot beside Allison and regarded Jeremiah, her expression deliberately neutral.

　　Bruno arrived next. "Oh, he`s awake? We can get started then." He gave Jeremiah sarcastic smile. "How ya feelin`, Jay?"

　　Allison can lie, thought Jeremiah. Good to know. "Hungry. Where`s Gus? Is he ok?"

　　Delilah said, "Gus is fine." No one responded to him being hungry.

　　Allison set her jaw. "We`re listening."

　　Jeremiah swallowed. His eyes darted to the sword at Allison`s hip. His mind blanked, his tongue felt thick in his mouth.

　　The three accusers looked at each other. Then Delilah said, "Why don`t you tell us about how you became a necromancer in the first place?"

　　Jeremiah seized the prompt like a lifeline. "Okay. I can do that." He took a deep breath, ordered his thoughts, and began.