Levenson glanced at me with a curious mixture of hatred and gratitude. I had just fulfilled a childhood dream, and yet he knew as well as I did just how dangerous a position this placed him in.
“I won’t let you control me!” he hissed.
“I’m not going to control you,” I replied with a smile. “I’ve simply ensured that we have similar motivations.”
Levenson didn’t answer.
“I suggest you take another drink, take some pain killers and try to sleep. You’re going to be in for a hell of a night.”
I had no idea how powerful Levenson would be once his full powers were restored, but it was safe enough to imagine that he would be as an infant amongst giants in terms of power levels at first. He would improve and gain strength though it would be doubtful that he would achieve any meaningful level of power. That wasn’t the point of the exercise though – I wanted him to become one of the hunted rather than the hunter.
“I didn’t want this,” he whispered. I could tell a lie when I heard it though. His eyes told the truth.
“I know,” I replied. “See you tomorrow.”
* * * * * *
Levenson didn’t look much better the next day. I found him hunched over his desk; it didn’t look like he had moved much since last night. He barely even registered my entrance into the room, but his Mana-soaked eyes never left me as I walked over to him.
“Get up,” I ordered. “I need you cleaned up and ready to go.”
Levenson didn’t answer with much more than a grunt. As I moved closer to the desk, the scent of fresh vomit overcame me.
“This won’t do,” I tutted as I placed a hand on the back of his head. He was burning up. With a small infusion of Mana I took his pain away. He immediately shuddered as the Mana went about its work.
“So it’s true,” he declared, his voice suddenly strong. “I’d heard the reports, but I’d always discounted them.”
“To what do you refer?” I enquired as I walked over to his bar. I was to be disappointed though – he had already consumed his stocks.
“You’re using fucking Necromancy!” he accused. “I’d heard the stories when I was younger of that dark art, but it was forbidden.”
“I would not deny such an accusation,” I replied calmly.
“How could you?” He rose from the desk.
“Listen to me,” I snarled. “I will do anything I need to do to destroy Victor. Anything!”
“You’re no better than he is.”
“I never claimed to be,” I replied. “Now, get ready. We need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Levenson snapped.
“Yes,” I answered patiently. “Yes you are, because if you don’t Victor will eventually find out that your powers have returned. You will seem like a threat and he will end you. You need to work with me, at least for now.”
I could see the thoughts processing behind his eyes. He wasn’t a stupid man and he knew the odds of being able to take down Victor. Perhaps he had a follow-up plan to throw himself on Victor’s mercy. Perhaps he thought it safer to disappear into the night and run. Option two would have been safer, but I wasn’t going to allow him that.
“You’re fucking crazy.”
He seemed compliant, and that was enough for now. I waited as he showered and shaved and prepared for the event. Once he was ready, I waited as he ordered a car to be brought round the front and we were escorted by two military aides to the car.
Levenson’s guards didn’t comment about an additional guest. In fact, they didn’t even acknowledge my presence. That was fine with me. They were simply there to get me into the complex without a fight. We weren’t accosted as we made our way towards a large manor about an hour’s drive from the military complex. Security was just as tight at the manor and our details were scrutinised as we passed the main gates. It seemed that my plan had worked; arriving with Levenson had allowed me to get into the manor without cause for alarm.
As we arrived closer to the main house, the hairs on my arm rose as the Mana prepared for defence. I knew immediately what this meant – danger. There was a mage in the manor, a powerful one. Only one was powerful enough to register such an effect – my old master. It had been six years since we had last met, and it had been an encounter that hadn’t ended well. I shivered in excitement, sending a tremor down my arm to my hand. I gritted my teeth as I attempted to bring myself under control. I wasn’t here to confront my old master and correct old wrongs. I wasn’t here to get into a fight, although I hoped Victor would assume that’s what my motives were. No, I was here for information about the regenerative effects on the only person who had successfully mastered the technique.
Levenson must have felt it too, as his face went ashen as the car pulled up to the main door. He glanced nervously at me as one of his aides opened the door. I smiled thinly and nodded at the man as he exited the car. I don’t think I helped him any with his anxiety, but I was more concerned with bringing my own nerves under control. I clenched my hands into fists as I exited the car and took a deep breath before I entered the building.
Victor would probably know that we had arrived; his defences would have alerted him to the arrival of one of our kind, but I had hoped to conceal my presence. I wanted to observe the man without him being aware of it. Misdirection was probably a better ally in this endeavour, but I would use whatever advantage I could.
We had arrived late to the party - things were in full swing but arrival went mostly unnoticed. I made my way to the central reception hall with Levenson in tow – he didn’t seem to want to leave my side. Surrounding us were generals, military aides, politicians and dignitaries from foreign nations. Many of the guests nodded or waved at Levenson as he passed. None chose to engage him in conversation, but that was probably more to do with my stern presence by his side. We progressed through the venue as we searched for my former master. I knew he was there; I could sense his presence and I used this to lead me right to him.
It didn’t take too long to find him; he was engaged in a conversation with a group of generals. As Levenson claimed, he was dressed in an American uniform – playing the card of a retired general pressed back into service. He hadn’t noticed us yet and from his Mana signature didn’t appear to be making much of an effort to be protecting himself.
A tremor tore through my body at the moment I first set eyes upon the man; it was so violent that even Levenson turned to stare at me as I attempted to bring force the shaking to stop.
“This was a bad idea,” he whispered firmly. “We should leave.”
“No,” I rumbled. It only took a few seconds to get myself back under control. I needed to do better than this. I couldn’t let Victor see me like this. I needed to appear calm, confident and in control. I needed to be powerful.
Victor hadn’t changed much since our last encounter; his powers had kept him locked at the same age for over half a century. I would have been very surprised had be changed.
At this distance I wouldn’t be able to get the information I needed from his Mana signature. Victor’s Mana signature had always seemed strange to me, but I had always assumed that every signature was different. This to a degree was true: everyone’s Mana signature was slightly different, but Victor’s was very different. Tonight I would find out why.
“Introduce me,” I grunted to Levenson as I pushed him towards my former master.
I intentionally approached Victor from behind and as such other members of his entourage noticed us first and made way to allow Levenson to join the conversation.
“General Pattinson,” Levenson began addressing one of the other members of the entourage, “May I introduce Devon Wills?” Levenson’s voice broke slightly at the end of that sentence, but otherwise he played his part perfectly.
“Is that so?” General Pattinson raised an eyebrow. “I had heard that he was dead.”
“Fortunately the rumours of his death were premature,” Levenson continued.
Victor sti
ll hadn’t turned around, but I could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that he was biding his time.
“Pleased to meet you,” Pattinson said, reaching out for a handshake. “What brings you here?” he continued awkwardly when I ignored his handshake.
“Same as the rest of you,” I answered. “I’m here to celebrate the end of the war.”
I took a small pride in watching Victor shudder as he heard my voice. It was such a small twitch and would have been easily missed had I not been looking for it. I revelled in it. I had finally broken through the iron mask that the man had placed over himself. It was true then – he really did think he had killed me during our last confrontation, and judging from his reaction he wasn’t pleased to discover his mistake. I watched in glee as Victor slowly turned around to face us, his face impassive as he stared at me. I caught another twitch when he saw Levenson; that he had flinched a second time indicated just how unnerved the old man had become.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Victor said in his crisp German accent. It was so out of place amongst the American accents. “I am General Charles Hurstbridge.”
The other generals nodded along in agreement. I could recognise a compel effect when I saw one.
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Victor continued in his authoritarian tone. “I, too, was under the impression that you had died.”
“I’m difficult to kill.”
“So it would seem,” Victor replied dismissively.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I smiled. “I’ll let you get back to your conversation.”
That was enough for now. Let him know that I was here, let him begin to worry. It would eat at him and hopefully crack through that damned impassive exterior. I didn’t hang around to listen to the conversation and I beat a hasty retreat. It was time to get to work. Now that Victor was aware of my presence, the Mana would be heightened by the anticipated threat of an attack. This would make it easier for me to examine the way his Mana signature interpreted the Necromancy thread sustaining him.
I grasped Levenson firmly by the arm and pushed him towards the door. He had served his purpose. I had Victor where I needed him. Victor would rightly assume that Levenson was going to be central to my plans.
“You’d best make your excuses to leave,” I murmured softly to Levenson. “You probably don’t want to be around for what’s going to happen next.” I could see from the fearful expression on his face that Levenson wanted nothing more than to leave. Levenson scurried towards the door like it led the way to salvation. If he was lucky, Victor wouldn’t pursue him. I didn’t care much for his chances.
It didn’t take long before a Mana thread snaked itself towards me and Victor’s voice boomed in my ear. “Why have you intruded into my affairs once again?”
I glanced over at Victor to see that he was still deep in conversation with the generals. The thread itself was an impressive piece of Mana work, but I’d have expected nothing less from the man. It was an advanced variant on the Whisper thread, except rather than forming the words focally, he had literally constructed the sound waves necessary to project sound. It was beyond my level to synthesise, but I didn’t need to hide the fact that I was talking. A normal Whisper thread would be sufficient for my needs.
“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” I smirked. “There are so few of us left.”
“I don’t know how you survived Melbourne,” Victor’s thread rumbled back, “but I will kill you again if necessary.”
“Ah, but you won’t,” I mocked. “Not here – you can’t. You’re a just regular general here. I’m perfectly safe here.”
“This party will end,” the thread promised, “and you are only alive still because I was unaware of your continued existence. I will seek you out now.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied as I began my examination of his Mana signature. It was complex and contained hundreds of intricacies. Many were easy to interpret and isolate, others were more intricate. It was like trying to listen to three pieces of music all laid atop one another – at first it seemed like a cacophony, but eventually with patience you can isolate the individual pieces. I could see evidence of the Necromantic thread; it was close enough to what I had seen in Karl, yet so vastly different that it was hard to draw a comparison.
In the Wight the thread had dominated him, consumed him. To continue the music metaphor, it was like the lead singer screaming out the lyrics. In Victor it was more like the percussion, the heartbeat of the music - easy to miss the delicacies of the piece, but once you find it you realise that the lyrics wouldn’t be possible without it.
“I am surprised to see that you have returned,” Victor’s voice burst into my dissection. “The injuries you sustained appear to be significant. You should have remained dead.”
I gritted my teeth as another tremor threatened to overcome me. With iron forced willpower I brought myself under control. This wasn’t the time.
“Your use of a Mana construct to keep yourself mobile is inventive. Tell me, Devon, are you paralysed?” Victor asked.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead I delved deeper as I found the regenerative thread and began to inspect it. I never would have thought of doing it this way – it was genius, twisted yes, evil yes, but genius nonetheless.
“I could heal you,” Victor broke in. “Restore the use of your legs, and make you whole again.”
“I can do that myself,” I quipped back. I was glad that the offer had come after I had already learned what I needed, as it was impossible to focus on anything other than Victor.
I saw Victor shudder as my Whisper thread delivered my message.
“Is that so?” His voice sounded calm, but I could tell from his stance that he was worried. From his point of view, the only way I could have figured out how to heal myself was via the study of Necromancy, and if I had successfully learned cellular regrowth, then it was possible I could overcome his regeneration. I watched with mirth as Victor excused himself from the conversation and made his way across to the bar. His eyes were focused on me like daggers as he moved through the crowd.
“You must then be responsible for the revival of Mana in Levenson?” Victor queried. He was trying to sound strong and sure, but that was because of the soundwave he had formed. Had Victor been using his real voice, I was sure that his words wouldn’t seem so confident. His bid to heal me would allow him the upper hand, but I no longer needed such deals.
“Indeed,” I replied as I made my way to the bar too.
“That was unwise in this present climate,” Victor continued as I slid onto the barstool next to him.
I nodded briefly as I ordered a drink from the bartender. “Perhaps, but he tried to have me killed. A lesson must be learned.”
I could see Victor nodding in agreement out of the corner of my eye, but I daren’t turn my head to look directly at him.
“You were always my most disappointing student. It is ironic that you could perhaps have been my greatest.”
“I had no wish to follow in your footsteps,” I replied darkly, and I found that for the first time in my conversation with the man I had told the truth. It was strange because it had taken me a long time to realise that I of everyone he had trained had followed most closely in his footsteps. Marcus’s forays into Necromancy paled in comparison to my own.
“And yet you are,” Victor prompted.
“Yes.”
“I will find killing you again disappointing.” Victor cut off the last word as if it were distasteful. “Yes, it is sad that it has come to this,” Victor murmured softly.
“It is too late for regrets, Master,” I whispered.
The sound of an incoming rocket caused us to look questioningly at each other. I could see the confusion evident on Victor’s face as both our shields sprang into effect instantaneously. I took grim pride in knowing that my shield sprung around me just as fast as the old man’s. Time seemed to slow down as we leapt ba
ckwards, each expecting an attack from the other as the rocket hit the exterior of the building and the room turned into an inferno of splintered, smouldering wood and flame.
Both of our shields buckled as the concussive force tore across us, though both held up against the onslaught. I realised that I would never get a better chance to strike him down. Before I could act, a second shockwave of embers and debris hit us as the building collapsed in on itself. A small concussive force of Mana swept out from Victor as he forced the worst of the wreckage away.
I had missed my chance. But I wasn’t ready for that yet, and I could tell from the look of outrage on Victor’s face that he hadn’t planned this either. I could see him attempting to draw his powers to the fore to bring against me.
I prepared my shield as we circled around each other in the ruins of the manor. I cursed inwardly - this wasn’t the plan. Had Levenson planned this? If so, he was in for a surprise. A helicopter circled around and harsh lights focused on us.
“Victor Whittlesea!” a voice called from above. “It’s time to die! You tried to kill me once and failed! Now I’m going to return the favour!”
We glanced up to see a figure descend gracefully into the ruins of the ballroom. I had never met the man personally, but knew him from the news clips – Killian Voll. He and several other mages descended from the helicopter. I grinned mirthlessly. These mages represented the last of the known mages we were seeking. Killian had thrown all in an attempt to end Victor. It was perhaps ironic that he had chosen the party thrown to celebrate his death to announce his survival.
I glanced quickly at the mages as they arrayed themselves against Victor. Perhaps this would be enough; I vaguely recalled another attempt on the old man’s life that had begun in a very similar fashion. It hadn’t ended well. No, something wasn’t right – this wasn’t the right time. Killian would fail and with his death this war would be over, but that wouldn’t be enough. Victor must die before all this could end.
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