Unless this was all a sick joke of some kind, designed to keep them running around pointlessly until the Necromancer was ready to take them out. Or until they died of thirst or hunger.
That thought made Gareth's stomach growl; they had eaten through what small morsels they brought with them during their stay in the cage, and the water flasks were running low as well. The Necromancer, if he had been keeping tabs on them - and Gareth was certain that was the case, had to know or suspect their state of affairs. And why go to the trouble of killing them when he could just let nature take care of it for him?
The was a depressing thought.
"Is it just me, my lord," Hatherle said, from behind Gareth's shoulder, "or are the wolf's and deer's eyes a bit larger on this sigil?"
Gareth did a double
