the smuggler’s bible


The skeleton guarding the doorway is nine feet tall and has a sword the size of a canoe paddle gripped loosely in one bony fist. Franseza eases back around the corner. “Jesus Christ, that thing is huge.”

“We can’t go around, so what’s the plan?”

“Where do they even find something that big? It’s monstrous.”

“I don’t think—”

“No, I’m serious. Is it prehistoric? What the fuck? It’s not like you dig one of those up in the churchyard. Did it just melt out of a glacier one day?” Franseza paces in frustration. “I’m pissed. God, necromancers suck so bad.”