Dire Straits Read Free

even though he knew them by heart.  Then he began to write in the dirt, murmuring the incantations softly, occasionally humming.  When he finished, he stood up and brushed his hands off on his chaps. Turning to Myre, he said, "That should hold things a little longer, and I should know when the Seal finally collapses."
    Myre shook his head then stared at the cave in horror. "Why would anyone do this? Why just leave it?"
    Bannick shrugged and pulled on the brim of his hat. "This place was lawless and wild a hundred years ago—even just eighty years ago. I reckon the fella what put it here, had some mighty big plans for his dire demon.  My guess, he was killed before he could come back for it. Over time, his Seal has been rotting. I doubt we'll ever know what really happened, but all we need to know is that there's a dire demon in there, and he's not got much longer before he's finally free." He turned away, looking at Myre. "Come on, then. We need to get to the telegraph office."
    Nodding, Myre mounted his horse as Bannick did the same, and they rode as fast as they could safely push the horses back to town.  Once they reached town, Myre led the way to an old building fronted with a large glass window. Across the glass, in black and red paint, were the words Tillery Post & Telegraph .  Tying their horses off out front, they strode inside.
    "Deputy," the man at the counter greeted warmly, but his smile faltered, turned into wide-eyed surprise, as he saw Bannick. Then he snapped back to Myre. "Something wrong?"
    Bannick removed his hat and set it on the counter. "I need to send a telegram."
    "Yes, Father," the man replied and handed over pencil and paper for him to write his message.
    Not bothering to tell him to leave off the formality, too intent upon what he was doing, Bannick quickly penciled his message and handed it back. "Send this to Crown City, the Temple of the Priests."
    "Yes, Father," the man said again and turned away to send the message.
    Bannick picked up his hat and moved to sit on a bench along the far wall, forcing himself to wait patiently for a reply.  He fervently hoped there was a powerful enough necromancer nearby because he sensed the Seal would break entirely in another day at best. The most he had been able to do was buy a few hours. Even his particular brand of 'supplemented' magic was no match for a dire demon. If he had to travel more than a town or two over or wait several days for a necromancer to arrive …
    "Reply," the man at the counter said.
    Surprised it had come so quickly, Bannick rose and crossed to the counter, accepting the slip of paper with a nod and thanks.  The message was brief, but it said all that needed to be said. Necromancer on way. Ezell Underwood. Arrive morning 630.
    There was a necromancer already en route. The necromancer was Ezell. He had never thought to run across that name again; he had forced himself to push Ezell to the back of his mind, to live forever as the sweetest of memories, one of Bannick's few, precious, happy memories. Who would have thought his sweet, quiet Ezell would become a necromancer?
    Bannick had never found it so hard to breathe.
    Gathering himself, he thanked the telegraph operator again, then slid his hat on and motioned for Myre to follow him outside. Standing by their horses, he told Myre in low tones, "The Crown has already sent a necromancer; he's arriving on the morning six thirty train. I'll pick him up and take him straight to the cave. Do you and your wife have room to put him up? The Crown will be paying, of course."
    "Kate's always got rooms," Myre said easily. "I'm just glad they've already sent someone. They anticipated a dire, huh?"
    Bannick nodded. "Yes, though nothing of quite this caliber. We were hoping someone had just sealed away something like your dire dog, since they wouldn't have been able to kill it."
    Myre muttered choice curses under his breath. "I wish that was all it was, too. I'm going to need to go speak with