by Nat Russo
“Did you need to slap me?”
An image of the skeletal warrior popped into Nicolas’s head, and he suppressed a shiver.
“The skeleton.”
“I took care of him,” the man said, scowling. He leaned forward and pointed a finger at Nicolas’s face. “That’s something his priest should have done. He was suffering, you fool.”
Nicolas looked up at the underside of a large marble awning and realized he was sitting in the entryway of the stone building he had seen earlier. The crag spider lay dead in the field.
“By Malvol, why didn’t you control him? You know the danger of an unfettered penitent.”
“A what?”
“A patrol could have seen you. You’ll bring the Union down on us! Arin’s arse, boy, are you an idiot?” He put the back of his fist to his mouth. “Now you have me blaspheming.”
“Hold on a dang minute. Where am I? And who the hell are you?”
The man wrinkled his brow, then knelt and touched the side of Nicolas’s head.
A strange feeling entered Nicolas’s mind, like the tingling sensation of licking a nine-volt battery.
“Your accent is bizarre, boy, but you have no head injury beyond a lump.”
“Don’t call me boy. My name is Nicolas.” Nicolas slapped the man’s hands away and rubbed the back of his head. “Now who the hell are you?”
The man tugged at something around his own neck. “How many Halls of Power have you mastered?”
“What’s a Hall of Power?”
“Who instructed you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Calm yourself,” the man said. “Strong emotion will make the awakening difficult. Unpredictable even.”
The man’s eyes flashed brilliant white. Again the feeling of dozens of electrical shocks covered the surface of Nicolas’s head. When they stopped, he felt relaxed.
But Nicolas did a double take when he realized the man looked offended.
“What?” Nicolas said.
The man threw up his hands and shook his head. “Your head will heal in time, but your insubordination is anyone’s guess. May the gods help us if—”
“How did you do that?” Nicolas stood.
“You wouldn’t understand any answers I give you, and there’s no time for explanation. The Shandarians are nothing if not punctual.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I find out who you are and what I’m doing here.”
“Dammit, boy! They will start with this crypt, for reasons that…should be obvious to you but aren’t. We cannot be here when they arrive.”
Nicolas followed the man’s gaze toward the village and saw a cloud of dust on the far side.
“Then I suggest you start by telling me who and what you are,” Nicolas said.
“Listen carefully. I am Mujahid Lord Mukhtaar.”
“That’s a mouthful, Mujeed.”
“Mujahid. Mu…Ja…oh for Arin’s sake. I’m the former prime warlock of Archmage Kagan, and Lord, by Rite of Testing, of Clan Mukhtaar, as is my brother Nuuan.”
“Ok.”
Mujahid squinted. “For reasons only the gods know, that name means precious little to you. As far as what I am…I’m a necromancer. By blood.” Mujahid tapped Nicolas’s chest. “As are you.”
“You think you’re a what now?”
“The answers don’t help, do they?”
“Necromancer? Really? You don’t know me very well, Mujahid, and that’s cool. But I’m not an idiot. And I don’t play with dead things.” Nicolas stepped closer. “I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but none of this is helping. I need to get home, and I don’t think digging up corpses is going to get me there.”
Mujahid scowled but his voice was calm. “There are elements of our calling I find distasteful, boy, but I take my responsibility with a seriousness I’ll ask you to respect. I won’t ask again.”
“Our calling? I have nothing to do with this.”
“And what’s your explanation? You’re ripped away from your home, find yourself under attack, and receive help from beyond the grave. Yet you find it difficult to believe you’re a necromancer?”
“How did you know that?”
“Have you already forgotten it was I who rescued you from the angry, undead warrior wielding that named sword?” He nodded toward the wall where the sword was leaning.
“Not that. The ripped away part.”
Hoof beats made Nicolas look up toward the village.
“Come with me and you’ll have your answers,” Mujahid said. “But we must leave.”
The man was right. Whatever was coming was getting closer.
“One more thing,” Mujahid said. “If you don’t learn control, you’ll end up killing yourself. Or worse…me. You should have professed vows years ago.”
The ground heaved, tossing him and Mujahid to the marble floor.
“Of all the festering times for a quake,” Mujahid said. “Follow me into the crypt.” Mujahid ran into the stone building without looking back.
One of the columns supporting the stone awning collapsed, bringing a section down with it. Nicolas darted into the building and hoped he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.
“Hurry.” Mujahid cursed as a column came crashing down next to him, missing him by inches. “The ceiling won’t last long.”
“Then why’d you bring us in here?”
“You’d prefer a crushing death over what those Shandarians will do to you if they discover what you are.”
Energy pooled in Nicolas’s head, and skulls circled in his mind once more. “I don’t think I can be in here.”
“Beyond the sarcophagi,” Mujahid said, pointing in the direction of two large marble graves.
The mosaic ceiling shattered, filling the air with a cloud of dust. They dodged falling debris while weaving their way among the ornate graves.
The largest sarcophagus had fallen sideways, revealing a dark passageway beyond.
A giant slab of marble crashed down in front of Nicolas and cracked into two pieces.
“Quickly,” Mujahid said.
Nicolas leapt onto the cracked marble slab and slid across its shiny surface. He jumped and landed in front of Mujahid, who pulled him through the archway and into the tunnel.
Mujahid’s eyes glowed white again.
Nicolas felt dizzy and stumbled. Once more the electrical shocks covered his head.
The pitch black tunnel grew brighter, but there was no light source.
Nicolas squinted. “Where’s the light coming from?”
“Your eyes, boy. I gave you the sight. Your power hasn’t developed it yet. Keep moving. This tunnel is stronger than that crypt, but not by much.”
A thunderous crash behind them announced the collapse of the marble entryway, removing any hope of going back.
“Don’t look so bothered,” Mujahid said. “If we can’t leave, they can’t enter.”
A wave of nausea tightened Nicolas’s stomach, causing him to double over. He could feel the dry heaves starting.
“Oh god,” Nicolas said.
Mujahid placed a hand on Nicolas’s head.
A wave of power entered, and the nausea left him. Mujahid’s eyes had turned a brilliant white again.
When Mujahid’s eyes returned to normal he scowled.
“You’re well past the age, by five years at least. The rudiments of the art should be second nature to you, yet you stand here retching as if you’ve never channeled.”
“I’m from Texas!” Nicolas said.
Mujahid grabbed Nicolas by the shoulders.
“You must be truthful with me, boy. Your life depends on it. Have you entered a Hall of Power?”
“Mister, you got a hole in your screen door or something? I told you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The room with two doors. Have you seen it?” Mujahid shook him. “One is light. One is dark. Answer me, boy!”
He remembere
d them. He also remembered the skull waiting behind the black door, and how the white door tried to pull him in.
Nicolas nodded.
Mujahid balled his hand into a fist and shut his eyes. “Did you enter one?”
Nicolas couldn’t stop thinking about the skull floating behind the dark door.
“There was something off about the white door so I left it alone. And there’s a floating skull behind the black one. It’s always there. I feel the energy, I get sick, and I see the skull. That’s how it happens. Am I going crazy?”
“That skull is the reason you exist.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a necromancer. This fact isn’t conditional upon your belief. You can’t eradicate truth by denying it. You have the blood, and you can’t wish it away.”
As much as Nicolas hated to admit it, Mujahid struck him as a straight shooter. He was out of options, and he didn’t like it.
Nicolas stopped, hoping Mujahid would slow down. The man sure was spry for an old guy.
“Keep moving,” Mujahid said. “This tunnel isn’t going to wait for me to cure your insufferable ignorance. When did your skull dreams start?”
How does he know about the dreams?
An aftershock caused the ground to heave, and Nicolas stumbled.
“Answer me,” Mujahid said.
“A couple of weeks. At most.”
“Arin’s grace, it’s a wonder you’re still alive. Stay close. Our destination is near.”
Mujahid began running up the passageway.
“Texas, you said?” Mujahid said without turning back. “I’ve never heard of it. Tell me more.”
Nicolas sighed and followed. What choice did he have?
They ran for several minutes, and three aftershocks followed the first.
The tunnel was damp in places, with small rivulets of water running down the porous walls. Nicolas covered his nostrils to block the smell of mold and dirt. He hoped Mujahid knew what he was doing.
“The power will fill you soon, but don’t fear it,” Mujahid said. “We’re approaching a vast source of necropotency.”
“A what?”
“I’ve slowed your awakening, but this will make you weak with the power.” Mujahid raised his eyebrow. “Though it’s doubtful you’ll notice the difference.”
Nicolas was getting tired of the sarcasm. Mujahid didn’t like him for some reason, and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d have to ignore it for now. The man was his only lifeline.
The tunnel curved to the left, and the rivulets of water disappeared. Energy pooled inside him, and Nicolas tried to stay calm like Mujahid asked him to, but when they rounded the curve, he jumped backward.
A crackling blue wall that looked like a force field blocked the tunnel ahead, and Mujahid wasn’t slowing down. It emanated a faint humming sound that reminded Nicolas of a transformer at a utility substation…the kind always blowing up and causing power outages.
“What is that?” Nicolas asked.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know? The list will be shorter.”
Nicolas fought back the urge to insult the man and took a deep breath.
“Let’s start with that then,” Nicolas said. “I know that isn’t a door.”
“It’s a barrier, boy. Barrier magic, to be precise. Not as strong as the Great Barrier, of course.”
“This is the part where I ask what is that again.”
Mujahid huffed. “The Great Barrier covers all of Erindor like a dome. Barrier magic is a mystical force, which serves whatever purpose its creator imbues it with. I created this one, and therefore it serves my purpose.”
“That yellow sky has a barrier in it?”
“That yellow sky is the Great Barrier,” Mujahid said. His expression grew slack. “The true sky of Erindor is hidden.”
“Yeah…so…remind me what Erindor is.”
“The Three Kingdoms. Though that name hasn’t applied for decades. We’re standing in the Shandarian Union, the northwest portion of Erindor. The Religarian Empire spans the eastern half of Erindor, and the Kingdom of Tildem lies to the south, smallest of the Three Kingdoms.”
“Only one kingdom in the Three Kingdoms?”
“Long story. This small barrier in front of us protects the coven from quakes and intruders. Can we dispense with the lessons and get to safety?”
Mujahid gestured through the barrier, but Nicolas hesitated. The last time he stepped through something mysterious he found himself on another world.
Mujahid stepped through and waved Nicolas forward.
Nicolas tested the surface with his finger. He knew, somehow, he was in the presence of death…in the same way he knew at the car accident. It felt as if he were standing on the border between two worlds.
He couldn’t do it. He took a step back, afraid of what would happen if he stepped through.
Mujahid shook his head and pulled Nicolas through the barrier by his shirt.
An electric shock passed through his body. The presence of death grew stronger now that he was on the other side of the barrier.
“Can you feel that?” Nicolas asked.
“Look around you, boy. This tunnel serves more than one purpose.”
The natural stone wall of the tunnel turned into course, stone brickwork. The bricks were set in three rows of arched alcoves that lined each side of the tunnel, one row on top of the other. Each alcove contained a simple, unadorned sarcophagus. He expected to see cobwebs stretching from grave to grave, but the alcoves were pristine.
“We’re safe from the tremors here,” Mujahid said.
“What is this place?”
Mujahid looked down and shook his head.
“There’s something you’re hiding from me,” Nicolas said.
“Oh there’s a lot I’m hiding from you, boy. But it gladdens me to see you’re not a complete dimwit.”
“You don’t even know me but you act like I insulted your mother. Why do you hate me so much?”
“You aren’t the only one who has to adjust here.”
“Are you serious? I got ripped through a black hole in my apartment, bubba. The worst you’ve had to deal with is a tourist with questions, so don’t go thinking you understand me. Because our situations…not the same.”
Mujahid pursed his lips. “You’re right.”
Of all the reactions Nicolas was expecting, agreement wasn’t one of them.
“Wait. Did you just say I was right about something?”
“Don’t grow accustomed to it, boy. You’re correct, and in ways you can’t imagine. Our situations aren’t the same, except in one way…we need each other. You won’t survive without me, and I…well…my concerns are my concerns for now. Trust is earned.”
“But I’m supposed to trust you, right? Why? Because of your charitable nature or winning personality?”
Mujahid offered a bemused smile. “Few would speak to me as you do. You remind me of my brother.”
“See, I’m not all that bad.”
“The difference, boy, is that my brother has the power to get himself out of the trouble his mouth causes.”
“Hey—”
“You’re either brave beyond justification, or ignorant beyond explanation. Perhaps both. For now, keep walking.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Mujahid smiled.
“My home. I’m taking you to Paradise.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Nicolas followed Mujahid for what seemed like hours before the path widened in all directions. The moist brick walls sloped outward, and the path descended into an enormous cavern.
Cooking fires dotted the cavern, and people dressed in rags and patchwork shuffled along the pathways, stopping at the fires for food. Shelters made of cloth and bits of metal formed a ring around the center of the cavern, which was set apart by an iron fence. A bright, thick beam of blue energy extended down from a black void in the center of the cavern ceiling more than one hundred feet above their he
ads.
The smell of damp earth permeated the coffin-lined tunnel, but the dank atmosphere did nothing to suppress Nicolas’s hunger.
“I have to eat something.”
“A word of warning before we continue,” Mujahid said. “I am not a man moved by displays of obeisance, but I am a person of significance in this community.”
“How does this apply to me?”
“You will refer to me as Lord.”
Nicolas rolled his eyes. “Come on. We’re practically old friends—”
Mujahid grabbed his shoulder.
“This is serious, boy. My title and my name hold religious significance. Use these words carelessly, and you tread on fractured ice.”
Nicolas folded his arms and Mujahid released his grip.
“Our community is hierarchical,” Mujahid said. “A necromancer who forgets his place tends to live a short life.”
“Someone insults you and you shorten their lives. Lesson learned, Lord Mujahid. What a wonderful place this is. Where’s your visitor’s center? I need to get a post card.”
“We hold a sacred position in the infinite order of the multiverse. Our power, relative to one another, determines in what capacity we serve our god. A Mukhtaar Lord serves in the highest capacity of all.”
“I told you, I get it,” Nicolas said. “I say something the religious nuts find offensive and someone sticks me with a hot poker. Point taken. Do they wear hoods when they string people up? Do you tell them it’s for the salvation of their immortal soul when you’re lighting the fire?”
One moment Mujahid was several feet away, the next he was in Nicolas’s face with brilliant white eyes. Nicolas hadn’t seen him move.
An invisible force wrapped around Nicolas and lifted him against the cavern wall.
“Fool! You mock what you don’t understand, and I’ll allow it no longer.”
Something had paralyzed Nicolas. He tried to move but he had no power over his limbs. He was under Mujahid’s complete control. He felt cold. The last time something lifted him off the ground was in his apartment…right before he was taken. Was Mujahid somehow responsible for that too?
The glow left Mujahid’s eyes, and the invisible force lowered Nicolas to the ground.