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

by Jessamyn Kingley

  “Arch Lich, I will remind you the Lich Sentinel-mate is no longer a legal member of the Order of Necromancia. Any claim you may have had became null and void when you signed the document which severed him from your race,” Chrysander said. “I will ask you again, would you like to directly address the questions posed by the Vampyress or Lich Sentinel?”

  “I would not, Your Majesty.”

  “Very well, I would ask members of the Council to consider allowing the oversight committee tasked with the previous punishment handed down to the Order of Necromancia to add appropriate penalties for the stalking and harassment of the sentinel leaders’ matebond,” Chrysander proposed. There were plenty of people willing to second his motion and he stated that a vote would be called for after the Lich Sentinel-mate brought forth his second petition of the morning.

  Alaric gave his mate a questioning glance, but Chander only grinned up at him. For the second time that morning, Roman opened the door to the floor area of the room. This time it was a single man who walked in. He was wearing a black uniform similar to the mandarin collar uniforms worn by the Sentinel Brotherhood. Instead of a sash, he had a belt and on the top of his sleeves were embroidered scythes in bright yellow.

  “Your Majesty and esteemed members of this Council, allow me to introduce you to Lich Reaper Grymington Daray,” Chander said as Grymington came to stand next to him. “He represents a new resurrected race.”

  “Your Majesty, we already have two resurrected races in this Council. We do not need a third,” Sigimund called out.

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have resurrected him, Sigimund,” Chrysander responded without missing a beat. “Lich Reaper, I understand your race is similar to the Sentinel Brotherhood, but you have a different method of combat.”

  “Your Majesty, you are correct. I have an eight-foot-tall skeletal form. I was not given fighting tactics or abilities, but the Sentinel Brotherhood is teaching me what I need to know. We began with daggers but have found them to be useless to a skeleton of my stature and have commissioned two swords to replace them,” Grymington replied. “I am asking the Council to recognize my race as Reaper, but I have no other needs. I will vote and am sustained by the Sentinel Brotherhood.”

  “Arch Lich, you have petitioned this Council to diminish the powers of the Sentinel Brotherhood and the Order of the Fallen Knights as races in their own right and then have turned around and created another race of resurrected soldiers. These men and women are people, not objects,” Vampyress Volkov chastised.

  “Arch Lich, how many reapers have you resurrected?” Alpha Ursus Arctos asked. His question was met with silence.

  Chrysander’s voice boomed out. “Arch Lich, as long as you are a Council leader in my assembly hall, you will answer direct questions.”

  “Your Majesty, there is only one reaper. I found this so-called Lich Reaper to be inferior.”

  “With all due respect, a resurrected soldier can only be as good as the sorcerer who crafted the spell in the first place,” Chander said. “If you found him to be inferior—which I can assure you he is not—it was because your expectations were not in line with your crappy spell.”

  “Lich Sentinel-mate there is no reason to be bitter because I now hold your position.”

  Chander’s only response was to fill the chamber with laughter.

  “Lich Sentinel, have you any objection to the addition of the Reapers as a part of the Sentinel Brotherhood?” Prism Wizard Vadimas asked.

  “Prism Wizard, I consider the Lich Reaper to be a fine addition to the Sentinel Brotherhood and look forward to him becoming a full-fledged member of the ruling body of my race,” Alaric replied.

  “Are there any further questions before we vote upon this matter?” Chrysander asked. When no one voiced any, the Emperor spoke again. “Very well, allow me to welcome you back to the Council, Lich Sentinel-mate Daray. You were sorely missed.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  The Order of Necromancia was asked to vacate and a vote was called out for two different items. Alaric was asked to recuse himself and did so without any protest. He went into the alcove, and Chander shimmered into the room. Grabbing him by his uniform Alaric tugged him close and mashed their mouths together. When he allowed his man to come up for air, Chander said, “Guess you’re okay with everything.”

  He nodded. “You look pretty hot in that uniform.”

  “Behave yourself. The gang is going to walk in here any minute.”

  “You cheated by teleporting.”

  Chander kissed his chin. “I know, but I didn’t want to wait to see you.”

  “I like what you did here this morning.”

  “I’m glad. Let’s see how many friends Sigimund has now that he’s got all that suspicion wrapped around him. There’s nothing this Council hates more than a matebond being messed with and the implication that the Consilium Veneficus might be involved.”

  “That blew my mind, but not nearly as much as this sexy uniform.”

  “I decided I was tired of hiding. I’m ready to be Lich Sentinel-mate.”

  Alaric smirked. “Good, I’ll have someone to help keep me awake during Council sessions.”

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even climb under that desk and blow you while they drone on.”

  “In that uniform, I’d even let you.”

  Chander quirked a brow. “So, when do I get my daggers?”

  Alaric laughed right in his face. Chander had zero interest in training, and weapons weren’t accessories. “Keep dreaming.”

  Chapter 46

  When Saturday morning rolled around, Chander was relaxed and enjoying time close to his mate. His feet were tucked under Alaric’s thigh, and there was a book about shifters in his hands. He was determined to create a spell to summon a permanent animal to add to their household. Grymington was already researching what breed he’d like to have, and Chander was excited for the opportunity to bring forth the first resurrected dog. Necromancers spent more time with temporary resurrections than permanent ones due to the heavy responsibility which came with having an eternal guest to care for. But Chander had spent his life doing the opposite and so he had little doubt he would succeed in his quest.

  He should have been farther along in his new paperback, but he kept getting pulled out of the text by the sentinels in the room. The skeletons, including the corporeal Eduard, were there for the weekend, and they were playing the most cutthroat game of Monopoly he’d ever witnessed. It seemed sentinels took even board games to the extreme.

  “Move Albie’s helmet six spaces,” Eduard instructed the men on the other side of the board.

  “It’s a thimble…not a helmet,” Chander muttered. He’d probably said it at least a dozen times and been ignored each time.

  “You roll another double and you’re going to the gallows,” Cassius stated.

  Chander shook his head. “It’s a jail, not the gallows. Monopoly doesn’t have capital punishment.”

  “Grymmie, that doggie of yours better not piss on my new hotels,” Alaric threatened. Chander had thought up to that point Alaric was sane, but it might be time to reevaluate. The dice hit the board and Chander waited for whatever crazy comment was going to come next, but it was the doorbell that reverberated through the condo.

  “Are we expecting anyone?” Alaric asked as he stood and started heading for the door.

  “Not that I know of,” Chander called after him.

  Shutting his book, Chander rose to a sitting position. Alaric returned minutes later with three men in tow. Two of them Chander had resurrected, and he was always happy to see the Reverent Knights. The third man was a necromancer and well-known to Chander.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Chander asked, referring to the man he hadn’t seen in centuries and really hoped never to see again.

  “Simon, you said you two were friends.” Drystan laid a hand on the necromancer’s shoulder.

  “We were friends,” Chander stated as everyo
ne in the room stared at the smiling Simon de Traylly. “But that was several centuries ago.”

  “Oh, come on, Chand. Who holds a grudge for six centuries?” Simon asked as he surveyed all the men in the condo before his eyes landed on Alaric. “Well, shit. If I’d known sentinels were as hot as you, I might have kept mine around more.”

  “You don’t have one anymore,” Chander retorted. “And stop staring at my mate, asshole.”

  Alaric crossed the room and took a seat next to Chander. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce us to your former friend?”

  Chander made the necessary instructions. “You know everyone. Now you can leave.”

  “Be reasonable, Chand,” Simon begged.

  “I can toss his ass out,” Drystan offered.

  “Come on, I have some serious shit to discuss with you,” Simon pleaded. “And I was responsible for arranging your first meeting with Chand. Hell, if it wasn’t for me, he probably wouldn’t have resurrected you guys.”

  “Which is the only reason we even brought you over here,” Conley replied. “And you made it sound like you two were old friends who lost touch.”

  “There was a very good reason we lost touch—he’s an asshole.” Chander pointed to Simon.

  “He’s always been overly dramatic,” Simon claimed. “We were close, probably best friends when we were young. But he didn’t argue about sending me into a castle full of dragons who could’ve easily killed me.”

  “You had your sentinel with you and you made it out of there fine, more’s the pity,” Chander retorted.

  “I don’t know what you’re so pissed about. I was good to you,” Simon insisted as he turned to look at the Reverent Knights. “I used to do things for him. He might have been the Arch Lich, but you know he was plain looking. I would find men willing to sleep with him.”

  “Your fucking leftovers you mean,” Chander spat out. “And the only reason you did that was because the elders were paying you. You gave every man you led to me money to cough up anything I might have said while we were alone. You betrayed me.”

  “I was poor and needed the money. You had plenty of it, and you weren’t complaining at the time,” Simon replied. “You probably wouldn’t have gotten laid without me.”

  “You used to get me drunk and then tell the elders about my reckless behavior,” Chander accused. “You were supposed to be my friend but instead, you gave them the fuel they needed to strip away all my governing power.”

  “I didn’t force the drink down your throat or make you have sex with those guys,” Simon shot back. “And it’s not like I haven’t felt guilty. I lost my best friend.”

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Tell me why the hell you’re even here. You had to know I wouldn’t be happy to see you,” Chander responded as Alaric rubbed a hand over his back. It was nice to be comforted, and Chander held out his hand which Alaric immediately took in his own large palm.

  “Fine, lovely place you have here. Are you going to offer me a seat?” Simon asked.

  “You’re lucky I don’t boot you out on your ass,” Chander retorted. “Now tell me what you want.”

  “All right, it’s about the current Arch Lich,” Simon said. “He’s fucking up, Chand. The necromancers aren’t happy. We’re afraid we are going to get expelled from the Council. There’s a resistance and it’s growing. We aren’t going to stop until he’s forced to give up his title. We need you. You can lead the resistance and have your crown back.”

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I was proud to be a necromancer and I was dedicated as the Arch Lich, but I never had the support of my people. Not when I begged them to force the elders to change the bylaws and not when I resigned,” Chander replied. “No one cared I was gone. I fail to see how I could lead any kind of resistance even if I wanted to which I don’t. The Council was more upset I left than my own people who aren’t even my people anymore.”

  “Chand, you made mistakes,” Simon stated. “When you were young you ran wild. That made people skeptical you were ready for the challenge of leading. You were sixteen when you assumed the crown, and you were whoring and drinking all the time.”

  “Seriously? I wasn’t a degenerate. I had lovers and I sometimes drank. It would have never been a matter for public consumption if it weren’t for you.”

  “I’ll admit the elders blew it way out of proportion, but no one besides you and I knew that. They made you seem reckless and uninterested in responsibility,” Simon conceded. “They trusted the elders and then you went behind their back and joined the Council which was faced with a crisis right away when the war erupted between the warlocks and the Cwylld. People were scared you were going to thrust us into a conflict that wasn’t our own. They were afraid for their lives.”

  “I couldn’t see the future. I had no idea the Cwylld would annihilate the warlocks,” Chander said. “And joining the Council was one of the best decisions I made as Arch Lich.”

  “We all know that now, but that wasn’t the initial sentiment,” Simon replied. “And though you were elected Council leader, you made enemies. Powerful ones who made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the necromancers. When you weren’t spatting with Arch Wizard Egidius, you were running around trying to get support to have more political power within the Order of Necromancia. It rubbed people the wrong way. And you had created the Order of the Fallen Knights and stomped around with two different sentinels all the time. You never missed an opportunity to try and coax others to do the same. It made people question your loyalty to the necromancers. Then at the zenith of our race’s power, you gave away the Council to the dragons. If that wasn’t bad enough, everyone was uprooted and forced to leave their homes to move to North America.”

  “Simon, all you’ve done is justify a case for why I was an unpopular ruler. If I was so universally disliked, why would anyone be interested in a resistance led by me?” Chander had no idea he had such a poor reputation—he knew that he’d made mistakes, but he had done his best to do what he thought was right for his former people.

  Simon gave him an annoyed stare. “You and your mate broke up. It’s obvious you’re back together again. I bet you know damn well that sometimes it takes losing someone to appreciate them. The necromancers are beginning to see the decisions you made in a different light. That perhaps the elders were wrong about you. We understand now that we’ve been manipulated by them for centuries.”

  “I can understand your frustration with Sigimund, but he’s your elected leader. Your race no longer even recognizes there was ever a Fate-born Arch Lich,” Chander said. “My loyalty will forever be questioned. I’m a hybrid mated to the leader of another race. I’m afraid my time with the Order of Necromancia is exactly where it belongs—in the past.”

  “You can’t just give up on us, Chand.”

  “Isn’t that what you did to him?” Alaric asked. “You stood back and allowed the elders to stand in judgment of him. To question his every move and decision. For centuries, you could have made the choice to give him the political power Fate intended him to have. Instead, you fed off the popularity he worked so hard to achieve while simultaneously condemning his choices and lifestyle. Then when he was backed into a corner and ceded his title, there was barely a flicker of protest. Now that you understand the reality of the situation, you want him to unite you and take down the man you elected. Has anyone ever stopped to consider he’s a person just like you? He has feelings and obstacles to overcome the same as anyone else. There’s a very real man behind the crown he wore for over six centuries. Chand is not simply a pawn in some game of political intrigue. If you ask me, the Order of Necromancia deserves the current Arch Lich. Your people seem to have treated their former leader as cruelly as the elder council did.”

  Simon had the grace to at least appear contrite. “The necromancers are beginning to realize we created this situation. We empowered the wrong people, and it forced out our Fate-born leader. Other races barely tolerate us. Who does that? W
ho defies Fate? We did and look where we are now. We have an Arch Lich who is hell-bent on pissing off every Council leader, it seems. He doesn’t care about the necromancers. All those centuries the elder council spent courting people and now Sigimund won’t meet with anyone but a select few who are loyal to him. It’s embarrassing to have a leader who isn’t even allowed to attend Council sessions. This is a desperate situation.”

  “I agree with you,” Drystan said. “It is desperate but like the Lich Sentinel pointed out, it’s a situation of your own making.”

  Simon’s expression darkened. “We know and now we’re prepared to fix it.”

  “I wish you all the best of luck. I truly do, but you’ll have to fix it without me. I am the Lich Sentinel-mate and my focus is on my mate’s race,” Chander responded as Alaric squeezed his hand. “I confess I wasn’t always happy as the Arch Lich. It was a tough job and it’s supposed to be, but I felt gifted to be chosen to lead the Order of Necromancia. Perhaps someday the necros will be able to handle Fate’s choice as the Arch Lich and learn to take care to see that the title is given to someone without strings or conditions. When that time comes, I might be willing to negotiate taking back the crown. But right now, they don’t truly want me. I’m simply the lesser of two evils. I deserve better than that, Simon. It’s taken me a long time to figure out I’m a decent person. Flawed as we all are but I’ve always tried to do the best I can. I’m sorry that wasn’t good enough for the Order of Necromancia.”

  “You were born for this, Chand, and I plan to personally see that you wear your crown again,” Simon replied.

  “I appreciate that, Simon. I want the Order of Necromancia to prosper, and so I truly do wish you the best of luck,” Chander said. “And I want to thank you for coming here today and explaining all of this to me. I never really knew what went on because of the elder council. It’s been an eye-opening experience to hear the truth.”