A/N—Spoilers ahead. Please don't read this is you haven't read The Necromancer.

I don't own this. Sadly, Michael Scott does.

This is a deep friendship piece. All of my pieces are.

What happened after Flamel left? Find out...

The bright silver light faded, plunging the Henge into darkness.

"They're not leaving," Palamedes muttered to himself. "They're not leaving."

A bright beam of light washed over them, illuminating their smudged faces. Then it was gone, and they stood, watching the hordes of brutish creatures that paced hungrily just beyond the stones.

"We can't stay here, Palamedes," Will said. His lemon-scented aura shimmered about him, though it was weak, not yet recharged from the conjugation. "The police will arrive soon, and they won't buy my garb. Not without identification."

Palamedes nodded stiffly. "Very true. On three?'

"Increasing or decreasing?"

"Decreasing."

"Ta." Will bobbed his head quickly.

In unison, they murmured,

"Three."

Palamedes tightened his grip on his sword.

"Two."

Will took a ready position.

"One."

They made eye contact once more, then charged.

Dust. Ash. All of it rose about them in a suffocating cloud.

Palamedes slashed tiredly at the Wild Hunt. His arms ached. It was a struggle to even move. Beside him, Will's police uniform had faded back to his soiled mechanic's overalls. It was a bad sign. If Will couldn't even bend his aura, then his aura was nearing depletion. Not much longer, and he would be of absolutely no use in battle.

A wild boar charged forward. Both Will and Palamedes struck, Will with a stick he had found on the ground, Palamedes with his sword. The metal blade of Palamedes' weapon dissolved the animal into a cloud of sparkling ash.

"Well done," Will gasped.

"Same to you—you're a right hand with that stick," Palamedes replied.

"Ah, well, it is my weapon of choi—" Will gave a cry of pain as a tiger pounced on him, sending him falling to the ground.

Seconds later it exploded, showering Will with dust.

"Are you alright," Palamedes demanded, dealing a blow one-handedly to another boar, while helping Will up with the other.

"Perhaps," Will said, reaching back to finger the gashes that ripped across his shoulder blade. "But perhaps not."

"Let me see," Palamedes said, but he was unable to look, as he was forced to return to the battle.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" he asked as he fought.

"Mmmm...?" Will tried to focus. "What?"

"Focus, Will! Who am I?"

"Palamedes." Will's voice, normally so precise, was slurred.

"Who are you?"

"William Shakespeare."

"Where are we?"

There was a long pause.

"Will?" Palamedes felt fear rise in him like bile.

"I don't know." Will's voice was weak.

Palamedes spun around just in time to see his friend crumple.

"Will..." He dropped his sword, catching the English immortal right before he hit the ground. Will's warm blood gushed over Palamedes' hands. He swallowed the nausea rising in his throat and tried to ignore the wet liquid on his fingers.

Will moaned softly. The sound was terrible—more a whimper than anything else. To hear Will make such a sound was torture.

Gathering Will in his arms, Palamedes struggled to fight his way to the cab. Police sirens blared, and the Wild Hunt finally dispersed.

Palamedes laid Will in the back of the cab and covered him with a blanket. The Bard was shaking violently. His long fingers clenched and unclenched spasmodically. Palamedes began to wonder if his wounds were poisoned.

"Just hold on," Palamedes murmured, closing the side door and, slipping into the drivers' seat, he started the car. As he drove out of the darkness, he saw the dark, shadowy figures of policemen searching the Henge.

The clock switched, and the 2 turned to a 3 as the hour changed. Will suddenly cried out.

Palamedes slammed on the brakes.

"No..." Will whispered.

"Will?"

"Dee...no...stop...Palamedes!" The Bard began to toss around. It took all of Palamedes' willpower to start driving and not to look back.

"Palamedes..."Will moaned piteously.

"I'm right here, Will," Palamedes said.

"Palamedes...Anne...Hamnet..." Will rambled on in delirium, calling the names of his wife and children. He often called for Palamedes, and every once in a while Flamel or Dee's name escaped his lips.

He needed medical care. Palamedes had no doubt that he was poisoned. But where to go? He needed someone who knew the Wild Hunt. Who?

Gilgamesh was wounded. Hekate was dead. Scatty was missing.

That left Tammuz. Palamedes' master.

But did he dare take Will there?

Another cry, this time bordering on a scream, decided him.

Palamedes headed for Sherwood Forest.

Nymphs and dryads crowded around the edges of the messy path, watching Palamedes as he hurried along. He had Will slung over his shoulder.

"Where do you go, Knight?" one dryad asked, stepping onto the path.

"To Tammuz," Palamedes said curtly.

"What for?"

As if in answer, Will screamed, an awful, tortured sound.

"Shh..." Palamedes soothed. "Please," he said to the dryad. "I need his help. A favor."

"I will tell him." The dryad slipped away.

Palamedes slipped Will off his shoulder and put him on the ground.

Will was trembling fit to burst. His aura was completely depleted—in the car, the poisoned immortal had used what little of his aura remained to try to combat the raging fever he had developed. Will's skin burned again Palamedes' with a heat that had long since ceased to be healthy.

"Come on, Will," Palamedes whispered. "Come on."

Will's eyes fluttered, but he made no other effort.

"He will see you."

It was the dryad.

Palamedes nodded. He tried to pick Will up, but the Bard gave another scream.

"I can't move him," Palamedes said bluntly.

"I shall watch him," the dryad said. She stepped forward, stooping down to lay a green hand on Will's forehead.

Palamedes rose, looking once more at his fevered friend. Then he stepped away, heading towards the clearing. Towards Will's only hope.

/Palamedes tried to push down the bubbling well of hate he felt towards his master. Will. He had to think of Will. Tammuz was the only one who could help them now.

"What do you ask of me?" Tammuz asked coldly.

"A favor."

Tammuz laughed. "And why should I grant you a favor, Sir Knight?"

Palamedes took a deep breath and said, "Because I have served you faithfully all these centuries."

His master laughed again, though it was a chilly laugh. "Faithfully? You fulfill a punishment. There is no loyalty or faithfulness involved."

"Yet I have not rebelled," Palamedes offered.

"You have come close many times."

His chance was slipping away. Will's fragile hourglass was running out, and Palamedes' chance was slipping from his still bloody fingers.

"But I haven't," he insisted. "I have done your bidding without complaint, even if it has been with reluctance."

"True."

"Please. One favor is all I ask."

"Name it." Tammuz' voice was emotionless.

Relief flooded through Palamedes.

"Do you remember William Shakespeare?"

Tammuz' eyes narrowed. "You know my views on him."

"And you know mine." Palamedes could fell his voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"Yes, you have told me of your friendship."

"Then you know, probably, what I mean to ask you."

"Ah, so it concerns him. That lessens your chance of success, Sir Knight."

Palamedes gritted his teeth.

"But name your favor. I shall consider."

"While aiding a—er—an acquaintance—Will and I encountered the Wild Hunt."

Tammuz stiffened. Palamedes rushed on.

"Will was injured. He is poisoned, I'm sure of it. I came here to plead for your aid. Cure him, or at least take away his pain."

"Death relieves pain," Tammuz stated wryly.

"Please..." It was all Palamedes could say. His words were gone.

Tammuz rose. "Take me to him."

As soon as they left the sound barrier, he heard it. Screaming—long, drawn out, tormented screaming. Will.

Will lay on the forest floor, writhing and screaming. His nails had dug deep scratches into the palms of his hands, which were bleeding.

"How long since his poisoning?" Tammuz asked.

"Seven hours."

"Ah. Too long. Where was he wounded?"

"The shoulders."

Tammuz examined Will's back. "The wounds have already closed. The poison is encased in the body."

"Then how—"

"I can do nothing here. He will have to be moved."

Palamedes' voice was sharp. "He can't be moved."

"Every touch causes him pain," the dryad explained softly.

"He will have to bear it. Palamedes."

Palamedes lifted Will. Always light, Will felt nearly weightless now. The only real sign of his presence in Palamedes' arms was his restless tossing. That and his agonized screams.

"I'm sorry," Palamedes breathed as he surrendered his friend to Tammuz. "But it's all I can do."

"Leave." There was no room in Tammuz' voice for complaint.

Palamedes left. The last thing he saw was Tammuz' pale green aura forming a shimmering seal around Will's twitching form.

By some miracle, he managed to sleep, though the memory of Will's cries wormed their way into his nightmares.

"Knight, awaken. You are wanted."

The dryad who had first spoken to him stood before him. "You are wanted," she repeated.

Palamedes nodded, and went into the clearing.

"Is he alright?" he asked.

Tammuz nodded. "He sleeps now. Do not wake him. But you must leave. Now."

Palamedes bowed as low as he could.

"You have my gratitude, Master," he said in a tear-choked voice, "and my loyalty. I will never forget your kindness."

Tammuz did not answer. Palamedes gathered Will into his arms and left.

As he was closing the passenger door, the dryad pressed a canteen into his hand.

"Water and honey," she whispered. "To recharge his aura when he wakes."

"Thank you."

Palamedes got into the car and drove away.

They were nearing London when Will awake.

"Will." Palamedes pulled the car to the side of the road. "How are you?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to faint?"

"No. I just don't feel anything," Will said. "And I can't tell it it's good or not."

"The poison is out of you."

"Poison? What poison?"

Palamedes stared at Will. "You mean you don't remember?"

"Yes."

"What do you remember?"

"Fainting."

"Well, you missed a lot. I thought I was going to lose you. You were screaming, tossing and turning. Tammuz healed you."

"Your master?" Will asked. "He hates me."

"I begged him to heal you."

"You—" Will swallowed convulsively.

"You're my family, Will. I couldn't lose you."

Will gripped Palamedes' hand.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Will fell asleep not long afterwards. Palamedes kept holding the Bard's hand. It was cool, no longer burning with fever. The canteen lay untouched on the dashboard, but Palamedes didn't wake Will. He didn't move at all. He was content to sit and hold his friend's hand. Content to know he was alive.

For that, loyalty to Tammuz was worth it.

FIN