Two burned corpses of zombies later, thanks to Traven's dagger, Savaran and the former prince were now checking in at the door Daria told them would lead to their perfect vantage point to take his guaranteed not to fail shot at the lich; a long since unused viewers gallery. Back from when their unfriendly neighborhood lich was probably just a normal wizard and liked to show off his proficiency in prestidigitation for the masses.

"I don't like this plan," Traven grumbled, despite some newfound confidence and feelings of usefulness.

"Me either," Savaran agreed.

"Then why are we doing this?" the ex-prince asked.

"Because, we're already here," he said. "And I desperately want to get Daria off our backs, get this job over, and put as much distance between myself and this damned place as possible."

"We weren't supposed to have to take out the undead wizard," Traven whined. "Just steal his book, remember?"

"Lich," Savaran corrected him. "Why can't you and Daria just admit what this damn monster is? He's a lich. Do you think by not calling him a lich it makes it better?"

"Maybe a little," Traven conceded.

"Well, stop it," Savaran snapped. "It's really pissing me off."

There wasn't the slightest indicationthe entrance was protected by any sort of hocus-pocus, as the library had been. Its surface was plain and unassuming, and Savaran opened it without concern.

Through the door was a long balcony. Savaran crouched down behind the pony wall and inched inside until he was about four columns in. That's where he decided to stop and hide. Traven followed and made it to the third column. Savaran drew his bow and nocked his special, lich killing arrow.

Although Savaran hadn't had the opportunity yet to observe the room below where he had perched, a bright light illuminated everything around him. And there was odd humming and whooshing sounds that mixed together to create a din. Finally, Savaran risked a peak.

What he beheld was a sight that could only be explained as the result of profane and wicked dark magics. His eyes were drawn to the book, sitting open on an ornate stand around which swirled mists, energy, and apparitions. Sometimes he swore he could see faces in the cloud of magic and the sounds he heard seemed to be emanating from within the pulsating and twisting vapors.

There was also a throne. And upon that throne sat the lich; bleak, dark, corpse-like and foreboding. Unmoving, the abnormal creature stared only at the book, the necklace of moonstone crystal about his skeletal neck glowing a fine blue.

One thing that Savaran noted was that there didn't seem to be another person present as a soul for the lich to consume and as Daria had described he would be doing. Savaran was back into hiding, a palpable fear creeping over him. He'd heard stories about the aura of fear that these sorts of powerful undead exuded and knew now that it was indeed true.

The no longer a prince, for his part, hadn't moved a solitary inch since taking up his hiding place.

Daria had said that she would create a distraction and that Savaran should wait for it before doing anything with his one, can't miss shot. He hoped she understood that if he was supposed to aim for, and hit, this beast's heart, the angle from here was all wrong. The lich would have to be facing him, not with his right shoulder pretty much square to him as he was now.

Savaran took another glance, trying to figure out how to make his shot. It was at that moment that the doors to the ritual chamber below began to open and Savaran's jaw dropped.

Daria strolled through them, possessing an eerie calmness that seemed out of place. Not only right through them, but directly past two wights that were standing guard. She walked past the book on its stand, past the swirling fog of magic, and right up to the dreaded mother-of-all undead. And then, even more shocking to Savaran, she kneeled.

"What's going on?" Traven whispered, trying to be heard over the sounds of whatever magic was being performed.

"Daria," Savaran gritted his teeth.

"Daria?" Traven asked.

"Yes," Savaran confirmed. "Daria. She just sauntered in and is kneeling before the lich."

"Shit," Traven cursed. "She's played us!"

"What?" "Think about it!" the ex-prince explained. "How does someone just walk up to a lich and not get slaughtered and their soul consumed? She's working with him!"

"What? No-" Savaran was certain that wasn't the case. Something was going on. He just hadn't been able to figure it out yet. But Daria wasn't working with the lich. Was she?

The lich's skeletal hand beckoned her to rise. She was talking, but Savaran could not hear the words. He also tried reading her lips but knew he had to be misunderstanding them when the words he thought he read were, "Master, I have brought you two sacrifices."

Then, she turned and pointed, directing the lich right to where Savaran and Traven were hiding and ready to strike from.

"Shit!" Savaran swore as the lich stood and his sunken eyes, glowing with death fire, turned to follow.

"What?" Traven panicked. "She just gave us away!" Savaran ducked as far under cover as he could.

"Shit! I told you!"

"Now's not the time for I-told-you-sos!" Risking a foolish check of their situation growing more dire by the second, Savaran saw the lich, his outstretched finger trained right at him. A crooked bolt of energy cracked forth and skipped across the space between them, striking the stonework above and sending Savaran back under cover.

He stood up with conviction to take care of this once and for all, bow ready to fire, only needing to aim, when a second bolt struck nearby and made him retreat again. Traven was covering his head against falling debris.

During the moments Savaran was singularly focused on the lich, the two wights guarding the door had scampered up the wall, using their claws to dig into the stone, and were now on the balcony with them; bloodthirsty and nasty looking. He didn't want to waste his arrow, or his one perfect shot, on them. Ditching his bow, Savaran unsheathed his sword and lunged in as both went for Traven's throat.

The once prince cowered, leaving Savaran to take on both alone. He worried about being a match for two unworldly undead that moved like wildfires in the dry brush. He had to use all his combat knowledge and tactics to keep them both at bay.

"Traven," he called, "get ready to use that dagger of yours!" Kicking away one of the creatures, Savaran took a long swipe at the other, catching it across its chest. It didn't bleed but stumbled back and right onto Traven's ready blade that he held with a noticeable shake. Bursting into flames, the former prince got out of the way before it fell on him with all the haste he could muster.

The second one, Savaran lopped off both its clawed hands with back-to-back strokes. Then he slammed it against the wall, wedging his blade between its upper and lower jaws to make sure it wouldn't be able to bite him.

Traven ran in and stabbed it. Then it also burst into flames.

There was another explosion as another bolt from the lich's finger coursed between the two of them. The strike had come so close that it singed Savaran's eyebrows.

Enough of this, Savaran thought, recovering his bow and arrow out of the rubble. He readied the arrow and turned to stare down the lich. Eyes locked onto those of the creature, fear washed over the general who had stared down death many times before. But never a creature like this. He wanted to run. He had to run. But Savaran fought that fear as the finger that would soon send another bolt of lightning towards him was ready.

The anxiety tried to take over Savaran's mind. But he had to keep his mind focused on the shot. If he remained focused, he wouldn't miss.

As he was pulling his bowstring back, Savaran saw Daria dart towards the lich. His shot was ready. She was closing in. Why?

Keeping control of his thoughts long enough, envisioning the shot piercing the lich's black heart, his fingers released the shot. The fletching kissed the shaft as it flew.

Daria began to leap, putting herself right between the arrow and its target. Savaran went white. Why?

Her hand reached out as the arrow closed in. She grabbed for the moonstone necklace, her fingers curling around it. The chain snapped and the lich's eyes flashed bright and started to fade. Just as she cleared the path of the shot was when the arrow slammed into the beast's undead heart and the lich toppled lifeless to the floor.

"Daria!" Savaran called out as she slid across the ground and slammed into the base of the throne. She laid there, unmoving. "Daria!" he panicked, searching for a way down.

Without a clear one, he improvised and adapted, noticing the large stone statue at the far end of the balcony with its feet planted on the floor below. He ran for it, climbed out onto it, and scampered down with as much speed as he could. Only a quarter of the way to the ground, he lost his handhold and slipped, falling the rest of the distance and twisting his knee.

Fighting down the pain, he rushed over to where Daria was laying, the blue glowing crystal in her hand. She was groaning as he reached her and at first he desired to make sure she was alright. But the words that he spoke came out differently than planned.

"You tried to double-cross us?" He screamed at her.

She smiled. "Nah. That was a perfectly executed triple-cross!" Then she laughed.

Savaran wanted to give her a piece of his mind. He wanted to call her every vile thing he had ever heard anyone called in any language. His instinct was to tell her to go stick that book where the sun wouldn't shine. But while he fumbled with finding the words to express his outrage at her, she stated the obvious.

"I suggest we get that book over there," she pointed. "And get out of here before those vampires and ghouls return."

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