Fall of the Arch Lich (D'Vaire, Book 6)

by Jessamyn Kingley

  All that was left was to be patient and give all his former brethren time to obey his command. He rolled his shoulders as he tried not to give in to the anxiety he was feeling over his plan. The important thing, he kept reminding himself, was that it was for the sentinels. They would finally be free from necromancers. Never again would they be forced to stay at the compound or take an order to do something unspeakable like murdering an innocent. Like him, they could decide to go where they wanted and aspire to whatever they wished.

  When enough time had lapsed that Chander thought it was safe to move forward, he tugged out the sheet of paper he’d written his spell down on. It wasn’t necessary; he’d memorized the words but there could be no mistakes, so he would keep it out as a reference. He set it down on the ground, thrilled that with his heightened senses he could still read it perfectly. Chander would need both necromantic and demonic power…and so he gathered all he could from both sides of himself.

  His wings spread wide as the energy began to build in his hands. He imagined two dark smoky balls to contain it and they grew as he concentrated. Chander was going to pull as much from himself as he could, and he knew it would drain him. It was a small price to pay, and he would sleep well afterward. Once the orbs in his hands blocked his vision, he began to chant the words he’d carefully penned. At first, nothing happened and so he began again.

  By the time he was through the third recitation, he could see a small silver connection emerge from not only himself but from the two men lying on the floor of the cave. It was the tie that a pair of necromancers and a dark warlock had created two millennia ago. That filled Chander with confidence, and he raised his voice higher as he said the words over and over again. The small cavern he was in grew hazy with black magic and he yanked harder on the deep well that lived inside him.

  The metallic connection grew more visible, and Chander could feel a tugging inside him. His spell was working; the bond was ripping away. Throwing his head back, he yelled the words at the top of his lungs as he dragged down to the depths of his power supply. His vision grew hazy, and he knew he was using all he had. The jerking of that shiny link escalated and Chander looked down to see it fraying through his dimming vision. Consciousness was sliding away but he fought it. It wasn’t enough to damage the rope—he wanted it ripped to shreds.

  Chander screamed out the incantation again and his body swayed but he kept to his feet. The room spun and then a piercing pain ripped through his chest. It toppled him to the floor of the cave. His vision was gone but moments before the darkness took him completely, he knew he had done it. The sentinels were no longer under the control of the necromancers. He passed out cold with a smile on his face.

  Chapter 16

  Alaric was sitting in his daily meeting with the Skeleton Seven and feeling rather moody about life in general. There’d been no further progress from the fallen knights in tracking down who had sent Chander that horrible photo. What was worse—he’d not a heard a peep from the necromancer who had broken his heart. Was it too much to ask for a simple apology? It pissed him off that Chander might not think he deserved one. He tried not to dwell on it, but it was the very least Chander could do after destroying their relationship.

  He was supposed to be paying attention to the matter at hand which happened to be the fact that their condo, whose renovations had been sponsored by Benton and Baxter, was scheduled to be completed by the end of the day. They could move in whenever they wanted. No one was anxious to go since the new complex they were building hadn’t broken ground yet. It was harder than they’d realized to put together a cohesive plan for all they wanted to include. The architect was frustrated and so was Alaric.

  There was no real rush; the Order of Necromancia was willing to fight the summoning of his men until the end of time, it seemed. He grew livid thinking about it. Alaric was getting ready to switch the topic to their not yet started structure when the compound rocked violently. It was so strong Alaric’s chair toppled to the side and he was inelegantly tossed onto the floor. His head buzzed, and he slapped his hands down on the stones beneath him to brace himself so he could stand. The ground was vibrating, and he got onto his knees and forced himself to his feet.

  The first thing he saw was five skeletons lifting themselves from where they’d been thrown. Rushing over to the side of the table he saw Gavrael and Gedeon making no move to get up. They were out cold and when he leaned closer he noticed something else. As Lich Sentinel, he could feel the tenuous connection that bound a sentinel to their necromancer. He couldn’t sense it at all and wondered if it was a trick of the mind.

  “What the hell was that?” Cassius demanded.

  “More importantly, what’s wrong with Gavrael and Gedeon?” Albrecht asked.

  “I don’t know,” Alaric confessed. “Let’s go check on the other men.”

  The half-dozen sentinels strode down the hall out of their wing and when they got to the area which should have been full of men training or playing games or sports as they did each day, all they saw were bodies slumped to the ground. As they continued to explore, it seemed as if every sentinel with a necromancer was unconscious. And Alaric didn’t feel one man’s connection to his sorcerer.

  “I need to go to D’Vaire,” he told his skeleton companions.

  “We will watch over the others,” Ducarius promised.

  Alaric donned his cloak and teleported to the living room of the Draconis Court of D’Vaire. He stepped into chaos.

  “Alaric, thank fuck,” the Grand Warlock said. “Trystan and Blodwen are passed out cold.”

  “So are Gavrael and Gedeon,” Alaric told him. Seconds later Reverent Knight Drystan shimmered into the room.

  “Where’s my son and his mate?” Drystan demanded.

  Dra’Kaedan waved his hand toward the pair who were relaxed against pillows on the sofas. “They dropped like stones.”

  “They aren’t the only ones,” Drystan supplied. “It appears necromancers all passed out a few moments ago.”

  “My sentinels are all out too,” Alaric confided. “I can’t feel their connection to their necromancers.”

  “What do you mean?” Drystan asked.

  “It appears either someone is tricking me into thinking the connection between our people is severed or it truly is broken,” Alaric explained. His brain couldn’t absorb the possibility that his sentinels might truly be free.

  Chieftain Lorcan Acwellan-D’Vaire, a demonic elf, raced into the room, his blond mate a step behind him. “An extremely powerful demon has cast a spell.”

  “A necromancer too,” Dra’Kaedan added. “And we’re talking about so much power there’s only one person capable of that kind of magic.”

  “Who happens to be part demon,” Drystan said. “We need to find Chand.”

  Alaric nodded. “I can track him.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Dra’Kaedan insisted. “That way I can teleport him back.”

  “Okay,” Alaric agreed.

  “I’m going with you,” Duke Brogan D’Vairedraconis told his warlock mate.

  “Of course you are. Now shut up so we can go. Alaric has to be worried about Chand.” Dra’Kaedan placed his hand on Alaric’s arm. “Track him and I’ll cast a spell that will allow Brogan, Drystan, and me to follow.”

  Alaric closed his eyes and let his senses take over. He focused on his mate and seconds later they teleported out and directly to Chander’s hotel suite. His essence was strong here, but he had traveled away from this spot. Without speaking, the group moved on to the next place Alaric identified. Opening his eyes, Alaric found himself in a small cave. It was dark until Dra’Kaedan threw out a ball of light which illuminated it. The first thing he saw was two cloaked sentinels lying on the floor. Looking across the space, he spied Chander’s crumpled form with his wings curled protectively around him. He’d never seen Chander in his demonic guise and he marveled over the beauty of those black wings.

  But seeing him prone sucked him back into t
he memory of being in the hospital—Chander hooked up to a plethora of machines while he fought for his life. Without conscious thought, Alaric moved forward and knelt next to him. Carefully he worked his arms under the smooth and surprisingly soft appendages before pulling Chander close and lifting him from the ground.

  “He’s exhausted and he should really eat something, but he’s otherwise okay,” Dra’Kaedan said after placing a hand on Chander’s leg. Alaric wondered if Chander had ever been this skinny; he’d always been one to skip meals except when his health had been precarious, but now he was barely more than a pile of bones. In Alaric’s arms, he was much too light.

  Drystan leaned down and picked up what appeared to be Chander’s T-shirt before he turned to Dra’Kaedan. “Can you teleport us all back to D’Vaire?”

  “Absolutely,” the warlock replied before weaving the spell. Seconds later, Alaric was back at D’Vaire.

  King Aleksander picked up Benton and Brogan grabbed Baxter. They headed toward the hall, and Alaric guessed they would be set up in a guest room.

  “You’re sure he’s all right?” Alaric asked Dra’Kaedan as he cradled Chander close.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Dra’Kaedan responded. “All he needs right now is rest. He must have used every ounce of magic inside him to sever those bonds.”

  “I can’t process it,” Alaric confessed as he looked down at Chander’s sleeping form. He could just make out the tips of his fangs resting on the top of his bottom lip.

  “He’s going to have a shitload of explaining to do,” Drystan said. “Starting with why he stole two tranquilizer guns and used them on his own sentinels.”

  “What?” Alaric asked.

  “An envelope showed up on my desk with the guns in it. I knew it was from him, and I could sense his sentinels were tranqued,” Drystan explained. “I need to get back to Headquarters. I left Con there to handle everything. He must be going crazy with all these sleeping necromancers everywhere. I’ll be back later.” The Reverent Knight then shimmered out after taking another long look at his son and his mate.

  “Let’s go get Chand set up in a room,” Dra’Kaedan suggested.

  Alaric was reluctant to put Chander down, but he knew he couldn’t stand there forever. He had his own people to deal with and no one had any clue how long they would all be sleeping off the power of Chander’s spell. He was led to a space much like one he’d stayed in himself on a past visit, and carefully placed Chander down on the bed. Dra’Kaedan handed him a blanket and Alaric took his time tucking it around the necromancer. When he stood back up, he discovered the warlock had left him alone with Chander.

  Wondering if Chander could hear him the same way he’d been told he could when he had been in a coma, Alaric whispered, “I can’t believe you did that.” A tear rolled down his cheek. His emotions were rocketing in a million directions at once. Lying there was the man who had changed his life forever. He’d been fascinated by him from the first time he saw him. His face had been more boyish then but no less handsome. The curly hair that had once stood off his head in a frizzy mess was now tamed and glossy. Alaric’s head began to spin as memories tumbled through his mind. It had taken their matebond to free Alaric from a spell which had kept them apart; then it had been Chander who’d made the decision their relationship wasn’t a priority.

  A catastrophic heart attack had brought them back together, and as Chander had healed, they’d grown closer. Alaric had fallen in love, but he’d never known if his feelings were returned. Before he could ask, Chander had thrown him out and broken his heart. Since then he’d discovered it was because he thought he had cheated. It had pissed Alaric off on a fundamental level that he’d never been trusted.

  But Chander had also given him billions of dollars of property to build a life for himself and his sentinels here, away from the confines of the prison that the necromancers had created for his people two millennia ago. And now he’d found a way to ensure they would have that future ahead of them. No more political wrangling or dealing with the Order of Necromancia. Chander had gone rogue and freed the sentinels. How could there ever be enough words to thank him for all he’d done?

  Alaric had no idea how long he stood there staring at the man he still loved while he cried. He’d been so furious that he couldn’t be bothered to offer an apology when the duplicity of that fucking photo had been discovered. All the while, his crafty mate had been orchestrating a spell which dissolved the bonds of necromancers and sentinels. Alaric didn’t know what the future would bring or what repercussions Chander might face for his decision, but he planned on doing what he could to make sure he would suffer no punishment for his actions.

  Looking at him now, he remembered what it was like when they were together. Not that last horrible time but before, when there’d been caring and happiness. And it was then Alaric understood why he had faced such a tough time signing their separation papers. He didn’t want to let go. Despite all Chander had done to hurt him, he wanted that joy they’d found together to grow and flourish. The question was, could he truly put aside his pain to give Chander a second chance? Did Chander want to try again?

  Alaric knew he wanted to be there when Chander woke up. Apology or no apology, it was Alaric who owed Chander gratitude, and he was damn well going to get it. He hoped that would lead to a conversation which would put their cards on the table. If there was any chance of a future for them, Alaric needed to know. It was going to take the right words from Chander to decide that. There had to be a bridge of trust built and there had to be communication. Or they had nothing.

  Not at all settled, Alaric set out to thank Dra’Kaedan and then returned to the compound. He filled the skeletons in on current events and they seemed as stumped as he was on how to react. They set out to get all the sentinels resting comfortably. As soon as they were all awake, Alaric would be teleporting to D’Vaire to seek out an audience with the man who had literally altered every aspect of his existence.

  Chapter 17

  Chander woke up completely disoriented. He was lying on a bed he didn’t recognize in a sunny room, naked from the waist up. Pulling himself into a seated position, he became conscious of the fact that he was in his demonic form. Gathering his wings, his eyes shifted back, and his fangs disappeared. Looking around, he discovered he was in familiar territory. He was in a guest room at D’Vaire; he’d been a frequent enough visitor in the past that he recognized the honey furniture. How he had arrived was a mystery he had yet to solve. Turning his head, he saw a card on the nightstand.

  Chand,

  Good morning! Your sentinels are here and awake. They’ve brought you clothes. They are in the bathroom along with toiletries. Feel free to get washed up and head to the kitchen for food. You have plenty of visitors curious to speak with you.

  Yours,

  Aleksander

  King D’Vaire was likely understating the reality of the situation. There was probably a firing squad of angry sentinels and fallen knights waiting for him. Resigned to his fate, Chander went into the bathroom and took a shower. Dressed in clean jeans and T-shirt, he left the safety of his room and headed for the kitchen. When he arrived, every person in the large space turned to look at him. All the D’Vaires were there, along with the Reverent Knights, the Emperor and his brothers, Chander’s former sentinels, and even Alaric.

  “No one says a word until he gets some food,” Dra’Kaedan ordered.

  Feeling like a fish in a tank of angry sharks, Chander grabbed a plate and filled it. He was starving. He had no clue when he’d last eaten, and that spell had taken a great deal out of him. His body was still fatigued but not overly so. Once his dish was heaping, he took a seat at the table with Alaric and the Emperor. He all but inhaled the cup of coffee Dra’Kaedan set down in front of him before turning to Chrysander and saying, “Okay, I can figure out what everyone else might be doing here, but I’m curious as to what you want.”

  “Since you’ve just woken up, I’m assuming you know onl
y that you cast a spell and then passed out,” Chrysander replied.

  “What happened? Was someone hurt?” Chander asked. He would be devastated if his compulsion spell hadn’t worked.

  “No one was hurt,” Drystan said. “Though I don’t know how the hell you managed to get every necromancer to safety.”

  Between bites of delicious hash browns Chander explained, “Mass compulsion spell.”

  “Mass mind control, that’s some fantasy shit right there,” Drystan retorted.

  “Not for demons,” Chander replied. “I found an old book that discussed it. After some experimenting, I decided that was the perfect way to keep everyone from being harmed.”

  “We’re going to set that aside for the moment,” Chrysander said. “Did you know it was going to cause all necromancers to drop into an hour-long nap?”

  Chander was surprised. He had anticipated they might black out for a few seconds; he didn’t know they would sleep for sixty minutes. “No, I didn’t.”

  “The Order of Necromancia is pissed. They found your behavior to be reckless and dangerous,” Chrysander stated. “They’ve requested you stand before the Council on Monday morning for questioning. I must honor that request. You cast a spell which affected all of your former people and you have to answer for that.”

  “Fair enough,” Chander responded. “I’ll be there. I’m sure the elder council is foaming at the mouth.”

  “Have you been under a rock for the last month? There is no elder council. It’s been dissolved. There was an election. Sigimund is now Arch Lich. He ran uncontested and holds all governing power,” Chrysander revealed.