Smart for a goblin. That’s what the little blue-haired one said, right? The voice in Jig’s head sighed. I see this is a relative thing.

Jig’s eyes went wide. Tymalous Shadowstar?

Well done. Perhaps there’s hope after all. Jig got the sense that the god was shaking his head. Still, a goblin follower. Have I really fallen this far? Well, what are you waiting for, goblin?

“Jig,” he said.

“What are you talking about, little goblin?” the Necromancer asked.

“My name is Jig.” He heard Shadowstar laughing in his head. “Jig! Why does everyone call me ‘goblin’? I’m Jig!”

He squirmed and bit and kicked and tried to wiggle free, but the dead hands held him fast. His arms hurt where their fingers dug into his skin, and his shoulder was beginning to burn even through Smudge’s leather pad.

“Smudge!” Jig turned and pushed Smudge with his nose. It hurt terribly. He would have a blister on his nose, and Smudge clung to the pad even tighter when he realized what Jig was doing.

“Please,” Jig said. He pushed again, harder, and Smudge came free and dropped onto the creature’s arm. The Necromancer didn’t notice, and without orders, it continued to hold Jig even as its skin blackened and burned.

“What’s the problem, goblin?” the Necromancer snapped. He raised his wand.

“My name is Jig!” he screamed. He bit down on the second corpse’s hand and used his fangs to pry the fingers free. By now the muscles of the first creature were on fire, and it was a simple matter to bend the hand back. Jig was loose. He whirled on the Necromancer and drew his sword. “Jig, Jig, Jig!”

The fairy raised his wand. A line of yellow smoke shot out, and Jig’s vision sparkled. The smoke smelled fruity and sweet. Jig’s ankle flashed in pain, but nothing else happened.

The Necromancer stared at his wand. So did Jig, but only for a second. Then he leaped into the air, screaming incoherently as he flailed about with his sword.

The Necromancer started to take to the air, but Jig’s blade slashed through one wing. As he fell, he raised his wand, and fire rushed into Jig’s face.

Again Jig’s ankle felt like it had exploded, but the fire didn’t harm him. No worse than Smudge had done on many occasions, at least. But he couldn’t see with all that fire in his face. Where had the Necromancer been?

He lunged blindly, felt his blade sink into something soft, and the flames disappeared.

On the ground in front of him, the Necromancer stared in disbelief at the sword sticking out of his belly. He had dropped his wand, and both hands gingerly touched the blade, as if he couldn’t believe it was real. Only Jig was close enough to hear the Necromancer’s final tormented words.