Read Villains by Necessity for Free Online Page A

was saying, though his head was still feeling fuzzy. A chill shook him briefly.
    "In a game of chess, someone has to take the black pieces."
    "Exactly."
    "So how do we keep from sublimating?" asked Arcie.
    "I know not, Barigan. The world is in danger that it does not realize. It thinks it has won and need never worry again. It is a strange thing, when good is so powerful that it is evil that must save the world. Sometimes the world was too evil, and then needed purifying. And now, the world is too pure ... it needs corrupting."
    "How are ye supposed to go about that?" wondered Arcie.
    "We, Barigan. I will need your help, you two villains. I have not been out into the Six Lands in many years, and their ways are strange."
    "Why should we help you?" asked Sam. Kaylana shrugged.
    "It is your choice. Come with me, and help save your world and travel under my powers of concealment. Or, if you prefer, wander out and face the search parties looking for you ... assaulting a Hero is a very bad move, assassin."
    There was a pause. Then the two villains nodded.
    "Aye, well enough... where do we start, then?" sighed Arcie.
    "We start by assessing the situation. We will seek the wisdom of the Gypsies. They travel far, and will know of the situation in other kingdoms."
    Gypsies, Sam thought to himself. He nodded sleepily.
    Something on the floor by his log caught his attention. A puddle. Hmph. Well, if the wench was going to make him wash then she'd just have to put up with him dripping onto her floor. Nice red puddles ...
    "Sam?" said Arcie, as the assassin slid slowly off onto the floor. Kaylana stood up in consternation. Blood was slowly welling out of his tattered tunic from the sword wound Oarf had given him.
    "He bleeds on my floor. Why did you not tell me he was wounded?"
    Arcie shrugged. "You didn't ask."
    Sam awoke to a sea of yellow light, the sweet smell of Barigan tobacco, and a rumbling noise. A heavy weight was on his legs. He opened his eyes to see Kaylana kneeling near him with a swatch of cloth that looked to be covered with crushed plants in an acrid-smelling green paste.
    The wildcat lay across his legs, purring and watching him with slitted green eyes. Kaylana skillfully removed a similar swatch from his side and replaced it with the new one.
    Raising his head to look, Sam noticed the wound was almost healed. His hands felt better too. He looked at them, folded on his chest. They were all bound up in cloth and weeds, and one of his fingers was immobilized in a wooden splint.
    "You're a healer?" he asked the woman in surprise, as she removed the bandages and he flexed his hands and fingers.
    "Not as you know it," she replied, "but I do have healing powers." Sam turned his head and saw Arcie, sitting on an upturned bucket and smoking his small curved pipe. The Barigan grinned at him.
    "Ye're getting a lot of sleep these days, blondie," Arcie greeted him.
    "It's morning already ... seven or so. We've got to be getting on." Sam tried to sit up. Kaylana gave him a light shove in the chest and he fell back with a grunt.
    "My magic weakens as the balance is destroyed, but fortunately most of the forest herbs retain their potency, and positive healing magic is easy in this Light-filled world. Still, you have lost some blood and needed the sleep."
    "We must be moving, Sam. Kaylana here says as the town guards be coming closer. She's got all yon birds and things working as spies for her ..."
    "Is Mizzamir among those approaching?" inquired Sam, sitting up again, this time more carefully. Kaylana lashed a final binding around his side and let him regain a semi-upright position. He noticed she was wearing armor of some sort, made out of some kind of stiff woven cord, over a shirt and pants. The dun-colored robe hung loose over her clothing and armor.
    "The Hero? No," answered Kaylana, getting up and starting to pack herbs, cloth, and bundles of food into woven canvas sacks. Sam nodded wearily. Somehow he'd figured that. Mizzamir was