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

by Jessamyn Kingley

  Chander stood and tugged him down for a kiss. “Sentinels are less easily swayed than the rest of the population.”

  “Their leader can’t seem to keep his hands off demonic necromancers.”

  “It’s a good thing for him there is only one of those,” Chander responded. “Otherwise my demon would jam his fangs into your dick and never let go.”

  “Keep up that kind of talk, and my dick is going to shrivel up in fear.”

  Chander gave a chuckle and then leaned his head against Alaric’s chest. He was rewarded with Alaric’s arms coming around him in a tight hug. They would figure out how to deal with the new wrinkle in their lives together.

  Chapter 40

  Alaric was lying in bed with Chander tucked close and even though they’d expended a great deal of energy just before Chander drifted off, he couldn’t sleep. It’d been a strange and aggravating day. Grymington was upstairs sleeping in his new room that Victor was already excited about helping him decorate. Would he be the only reaper, or would Sigimund summon more men—who were incapable of fighting—from the dead? Alaric hoped he did not for the sake of the reapers. The current Arch Lich saw no reason to meet even the most basic needs of this new army he wished to create, and that was a poor sign of a leader.

  He’d known Sigimund wasn’t Chander’s equal, but he had never imagined the man had such little sense or so much callousness. Why would you resurrect three warlocks who could offer you nothing but counsel? Was it temporary as Chander hoped, or was their new lifeline as long as his own? For two of them it didn’t really matter. Once found, there was little doubt both Carvallius and Latarian would face punishment for the crimes they had committed in their first existence. Like everyone else, he didn’t know the third but if he was anything like his family members, then he likely had committed similar heinous offenses.

  He hoped the fallen knights could track down the warlocks quickly. They were going to question Sigimund but subtly. No one wanted Sigimund tipped off yet that Grymington had joined the Sentinel Brotherhood and had told them all he knew. But despite his recent decisions, Sigimund wasn’t completely stupid, and he must realize where Grymington might head and the things he would say. They didn’t want to give Sigimund any reason to begin covering his tracks.

  The Skeleton Seven had embraced the small reaper and were excited at the prospect of showing him how to use his new daggers. Alaric was curious about the yellow poison and looked forward to being able to ask the Prism Wizard to test the virulence of it. There was no guarantee the color difference made it any less potent. After all, the black poison on his weapons was the same color as the one Chander had created to allow the fallen knights to bleed long enough to give blood to their mates or be mated. Chander’s had been designed to evaporate quickly and do minimal damage. The sentinel dark poison was fatal if the blade was used to sever the head of anyone resurrected.

  Alaric wondered how fighting with an eight-foot-tall skeleton would work. He hoped it didn’t turn out to be as awkward as he feared. Grymington needed to be able to, at the very least, defend himself. However long it took, it would be an interesting challenge and one Alaric was looking forward to tackling. It was inevitable he would learn new things and be able to apply it to the training all sentinels did.

  He also intended to make sure Grymington never lost out on his chance to be a leader. It was what he’d been resurrected to do, and Fate had honored that request with the scythe on his chest. As a race of only one, the Council would be disinclined to hand over the world on a silver platter, but there was no reason he couldn’t function as part of the sentinels. When his existence was made public, Alaric would alter the Sentinel Brotherhood’s Headquarters to reflect the addition of the reapers and the Lich Reaper himself. It was the least he could do for Grymington.

  If Alaric wanted to be of use to anyone the following day, he needed to get some rest. Leaning close to the curly head in front of him he dropped a kiss on Chander’s hair and then snuggled his own into his pillow. Yawning, he cozied up a little closer to the demonic necromancer in his bed and willed sleep to come. Eyes closed, he fell into a series of vivid memories masquerading as dreams.

  * * *

  The first thing Alaric heard when he was catapulted from unconsciousness to full awareness was a thud and a curse. His mind was reeling, and his breath was coming in pants. Reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp, he saw Chander pulling himself into a sitting position from the floor next to their bed. Chander wasn’t wearing anything but an annoyed look.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” Alaric said, as he tossed the covers off and got up to assist him.

  Chander rubbed one eye as he got to his feet. His curls were tangled and Alaric felt bad for knocking him clean off the mattress. “Your voice sounds funny. Did you have a nightmare or something?”

  “Come on, let’s get back in bed,” Alaric replied.

  “We aren’t going back to sleep until you answer my question.”

  “I know, I want to tell you. I remembered shit, Chand.”

  “Okay.” Chander climbed back onto the bed. Alaric got in next to him and then they both sat cross-legged across from each other with the covers over their laps. “Tell me.”

  Alaric couldn’t help but cup his head and press a kiss to his forehead.

  “Your hand is trembling,” Chander observed. “You’re scaring the shit out of me. Talk to me.”

  “I remember everything. Being resurrected. The spell afterward. All of it.”

  “Okay, take a deep breath and start slow.”

  Nodding, Alaric did as he was told as he stared at Chander in the dim light afforded by the single bulb. “I remember waking up for the first time sick to my stomach. It wasn’t a single necromancer but a group of sorcerers.”

  “Well, that makes sense. We already knew Arch Lich Faustus and his mate had the help of a warlock.”

  “I wasn’t resurrected by Arch Lich Faustus or Arch Lich-mate Domitia.”

  Chander’s brow furrowed. “You weren’t?”

  “No, the sentinels already existed when I was resurrected. The Arch Liches were dead. Some people blamed the sentinels they said, but I don’t know what happened to them. The sorcerers never explained, and they weren’t friendly to me. All of the sentinels were at the compound when they decided they needed a leader to see to them,” Alaric explained. “I had just woken up. I remember being sick, but they didn’t wait to cast the spell on me that wouldn’t let me do anything except see to the men.”

  “Are you telling me they didn’t even wait for the resurrection sickness to pass?”

  “No, they didn’t. I was trying hard not to throw up. I lost the battle when they began casting that damn spell. Then I was sent to the compound.”

  Chander shook his head like a dog—apparently to clear it. “Okay, I’m not going to get mad about that because it doesn’t help. But you do realize they could have killed you?”

  “Lucky me, I survived.”

  “If it wasn’t the Arch Liches who resurrected you, who did? There shouldn’t have been a necromancer alive strong enough to do that. I hadn’t been born yet.”

  “That’s why there was the whole group there. I think they all did it. One necromancer, two dark warlocks, and a wizard.”

  “Do you remember the names?”

  Alaric swallowed. Chander was going to lose his temper, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. “The dark warlocks, it was a man named Le’Terrius and his son who you are already familiar with. He was a teenager at the time I think, but it was Carvallius.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I’m not. Le’Terrius was the one who helped the former Arch Liches cast the original spell to create the sentinels. The other sorcerers got on his case about it—apparently none of them were pleased.”

  Chander rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “Tell me who the wizard and necromancer were.”

  “Arch Wizard Egidius was the wizard.”

/>   “I was afraid of that, but it makes sense. He was probably the powerhouse.”

  “Exactly, and he was pissed about being there.”

  “The necromancer, babe.”

  Alaric met pewter eyes that likely already knew the answer. “Sigimund.”

  Chander barreled out of bed and began pacing. “I fucking knew it. When you didn’t say who the necromancer was right off the bat. He put that fucking spell on you and left you there to rot. They resurrected you to clean up whatever fucking mess those asshole Arch Liches made when they created your race in the first place.”

  “At least we know now why he wanted to resurrect the Mallents,” Alaric said. “He must have been friends with Le’Terrius and Carvallius.”

  “Figures the asshole would be friends with other fucking assholes.”

  “Sigimund thought I would never leave, which explains why he fell right the fuck down the first time I showed up in your office. I didn’t tell them I could teleport out since I had no necromancer.”

  “But you couldn’t teleport out until someone, in this case our good friends Gavrael and Gedeon, convinced you it was in the best interest of the sentinels.” Chander stopped and slapped his hands onto his naked hips.

  “Baby, something awful happened. None of them knew what except Le’Terrius. Whatever it was, it’s the reason I was taught the spell to burn the names of the sentinels into their daggers.”

  “How does burning a name into a dagger prevent anything?”

  Alaric shrugged. “No one explained shit to me. I know the former Arch Liches weren’t popular. That’s it but they referred to a disaster.”

  “Fuck, I wish we knew more about Faustus and Domitia.”

  “Me too,” Alaric said. “I remember back to my resurrection. I still don’t recall Albrecht.”

  “Well, now we know you weren’t the first sentinel as we suspected. How many others came before you? Is Albrecht only one of many that are either lost to time or worse?”

  Alaric blew out a breath. “Just when I think we’ve solved one sentinel mystery a new one is discovered.”

  “His memory isn’t returning as quickly as yours,” Chander responded as he began his pacing again. “It may take time, but eventually we’ll know what the hell happened. Unless more than Faustus and Domitia died. Maybe there was a war and sentinels were lost protecting them or something.”

  “You want to know something? Le’Terrius was the only one in that room who had any kindness for me.”

  “Good, maybe he’s not a complete asshole like the others.”

  “Have you read every history book related to necromancers and sentinels?”

  His bookworm mate stopped in his tracks and leveled him with a baleful stare. “Do you really need me to answer that question?”

  “Give me a break, baby.” Alaric glanced at the clock. “It’s three in the morning. Even sentinels have times when their senses aren’t sharp.”

  “I’m sorry and this has to be traumatic for you.”

  “It shocked me but I’m okay. I like having all my memory back. I just wish I had more answers. What happened? Who decided to create the compound and send us all there? Why not just kill us?”

  “They didn’t know how to undo the spell,” Chander said. “Sigimund bitched about that more than once over the centuries. Even asked me to figure it out. They couldn’t just kill you—the spell would have created new ones to take your places. No one knew about that device you found. Truth is, I couldn’t have undone the spell if you hadn’t already destroyed that soulbinding machine. The compound was unreachable by sorcerers. My spell tore through the existing binds which worked since the machine was toast. Without that, the sentinels would have never been free.”

  “It must have been Le’Terrius who created it and put the device there. He was part of the original spell that created us. He had to know about the device.”

  Chander’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think he was ever there? Is it possible a sorcerer—the one who created it—could visit the compound?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We need to talk to Drystan, Conley, and Chrys,” Chander said. “They need to be brought up to speed on all we know.”

  “Chand, it was Sigimund’s idea to make me dedicated to the Sentinel Brotherhood at the expense of my own needs.”

  Chander climbed onto the bed and crawled up to where Alaric was seated and gave him a smacking kiss. “That asshole is going to pay.” He hugged Alaric tightly. “One way or another.”

  “You’ll need pants before you can rush out of here like an avenging angel.”

  “Avenging demon, babe. Magic doesn’t get any darker than me.”

  “Powerful and sexy.”

  Rolling off the bed, Chander ordered, “Stop talking about yourself, and let’s hop into the shower. We have people to see.”

  “You did hear the part about it being three in the morning, right?”

  “Too bad. We need to talk to Chrys before he has to run off and start the morning’s Council session.”

  Alaric groaned but followed Chander into the bathroom. “We’re going to need a lot of coffee.”

  Chapter 41

  In Emperor Chrysander Draconis’s large condo, Chander sat next to Alaric and fumed. As if finding out that Sigimund had resurrected criminals and a reaper he’d neglected to feed wasn’t enough, Chander now knew Alaric had suffered for two millennia because of the asshole. Listening to an Emperor and two Reverent Knights tell him there wasn’t much that could be done at this point wasn’t doing anything to calm him down.

  “Chand, you know how this works,” Chrysander said. “At this point, it’s Alaric’s word against Sigimund’s, and everyone is aware of the rift between the Order of Necromancia and the Sentinel Brotherhood. Sigimund isn’t even allowed in the Main Assembly Hall because he put forth a petition which questioned the judgment of the Reverent Knights and the Lich Sentinel. We’re going to need some concrete proof, or this looks like a pissing match.”

  “How the fuck am I supposed to find evidence? We’re talking about an event that took place two thousand years ago,” Chander argued.

  “We need to find those warlocks,” Conley replied. “If they’re pissed about being resurrected, they may be able to help us. Le’Terrius and Carvallius were there.”

  “Carvallius is a criminal who brought about the destruction of nearly his entire race,” Chander pointed out. “He separated a pair of mates for a millennium and all kinds of other shit. His word isn’t going to amount to a hill of beans. Le’Terrius is an unknown element, but his association to Carvallius certainly isn’t going to help matters. Sigimund will use all of that to his advantage. Egidius is dead. We’ve got nothing here.”

  “What about the fact that Sigimund resurrected known criminals? Isn’t that enough to charge him with a crime?” Alaric asked. “Assuming of course we can find the warlocks and use them as evidence.”

  Chander gave Alaric a guilty glance. “It is, but it’s not going to keep him in prison long.”

  “Chand spent his entire reign fighting against legislation that would curtail the resurrection spell,” Chrysander explained.

  Chander gave Alaric’s hand a squeeze. “Once you start making laws prohibiting resurrection, you’re one step closer to eliminating the very foundation of my race. And the truth is, resurrected people aren’t inherently dangerous, at least not ones missing their memories. You can’t summon criminals, but the penalty is a slap on the wrist compared to Sigimund’s mounting pile of crimes.”

  “And we’ve gotten no further on connecting him to the crime that was perpetuated against me and Chand?” Alaric asked.

  “After chasing that IP address to Chander’s office computer, we hit a brick wall. Nothing new has turned up,” Conley replied.

  “The man is a disaster and he’s ruling the Order of Necromancia,” Chander said. “I’m going to keep saying this: he’s not working alone.”

  “I tracked down all of the other form
er elders save one and that’s because Hubert is apparently on vacation,” Drystan confided. “They are staying at Sigimund’s home but according to them are only working with him on an unofficial basis since you are no longer the Arch Lich.”

  “Oh, right, because I’m the moron running around resurrecting criminals and filing bogus petitions which accuse other racial leaders of being ninnies incapable of seeing to their people,” Chander groused. Those elders had some fucking nerve, he thought in disgust. He’d never once asked for their guidance and there was a good reason for it; they were self-serving jerks who were more concerned about themselves than the necromancers. “Though I have to say if I’d known my resigning would cause them to back off, I would have done it a lot sooner.”

  “I hate to say it, but the Order of Necromancia is better off without them. Being old doesn’t necessarily equate to being wiser,” Chrysander said.

  “The cost of the dissolution of the elder council was too high,” Alaric replied. “My mate’s judgment and effectiveness as a ruler should never have been in question. That skull on his chest is the mark of Fate no matter what that asshole Sigimund contends.”

  “At the end of the day, it was Chand’s choice to relieve himself of his duties,” the Emperor responded.

  “Yes, it was and I’m not going to sit here and justify it. It’s done and we’ve all just agreed that the Order of Necromancia has gained some measure of good since I left. I am not the Arch Lich. I have a title. It’s Lich Sentinel-mate. My duty is to the Sentinel Brotherhood. I have no issue with the necromancers. My time with them was well spent. I know I improved them—not as much as I may have hoped—but I did what I could. They prefer to elect their leaders. Many races do. I’m sorry my resignation didn’t please everyone, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life apologizing for it.”

  “A part of me will never be okay with the fact that you aren’t the Arch Lich,” Chrysander remarked. “I can’t help that. Like you, I was chosen by Fate. I know the necromancers weren’t fair to you. They didn’t do the right thing by you from the moment you were born, but I still hold out hope someday we can come to a resolution that will see you where you rightfully belong.”