Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles

by Nat Russo

  “I will not fail you, Glorious One,” Zorian had said.

  “It matters little to me which of you succeeds.”

  As the lieutenant slowed in front of him, Zorian focused on the task at hand.

  The entrance to the command chamber was a simple wooden door with several sealable arrow slits and a tiny porthole. The porthole had been opened once the chimeramancers chimeraported the armada; it was a sign they were no longer in Barathosian waters.

  As Zorian and the lieutenant approached the door, the walkway gave slightly under their weight.

  The final defense.

  There was nothing beneath Zorian for more than twenty decks, and with the single pull of a rope in the command chamber, the walkway would fall open, dropping an invading force to their deaths.

  Or drop a rival to an untimely demise, Zorian thought.

  That wouldn’t be Zorian’s end, though. At least not yet. The admiral needed him. Zorian would go along with whatever plan Admiral Unega hatched, so long as it aligned with his ultimate goal.

  Zorian walked a fine line. He had to remain competent, yet non-threatening. Tenacious, yet respectful.

  The chamber door opened, allowing Zorian and the lieutenant to enter.

  The command chamber was forty feet across and thirty deep, with walls that could be opened into extended decks for the admiral to have a commanding view of his armada. The fore and starboard decks were opened, providing a view of more than a thousand Predator-class warships spanning from the horizon over the fore deck to the horizon over the starboard. And that was but half the armada under Unega’s command.

  Four signalers sat against the port wall, prepared to convey orders to the armada on the admiral’s behalf. Four brightly colored flags, one for each of the four fleets of the Armada, along with dozens of white flags—each painted with an elaborate symbol representing a command—rested against the aft wall.

  Though the walls were open, no icy wind pierced the command chamber. The chimeramancers saw to that.

  Admiral Unega sat on a simple stool in the far corner of the room, at the column between the fore and starboard decks. He hunched over a parchment on the small table in front of him, tapping the document with the bottom of an ivory figurine.

  The admiral was out of uniform, which was strange, and his gray hair was mussed, as if he had been roused from bed and given no time to comb it. His sunken eyes and weary expression seconded that supposition. This must be an emergency meeting.

  Vincen, an old chimeramancer, was present, as was Lucian, a vivamancer—something the Three Kingdoms magi called a life magus. Zorian understood Vincen’s presence, but Lucian had no purpose here. There were no pregnant women on board—a vivamancer’s stock in trade—and it was inconceivable that Admiral Unega would be trying to fulfill the empress’s original mission of cultural exchange.

  But what if he was?

  Zorian’s mind raced. If the admiral managed to succeed in not only bringing vengeance upon the Three Kingdoms by killing the archmage, but also fulfilling the empress’s decades-old mission—a mission said to originate with Arin himself—then the admiral might be the adversary the Glorious One warned Zorian about.

  What is your purpose here, Lucian?

  Zorian would have to keep his eyes on that one. Vivamancers were revered as holy in the Barathosian empire. If Lucian took it upon himself to declare Zorian an enemy, it would put an end to Zorian’s ambitions.

  It might put an end to Zorian, for that matter.

  “Mester Vincen,” Admiral Unega said. “I want the Fourth Navy off the coast of Religar by this evening, including the Fourth’s command ship. Can you and your brethren achieve this and maintain our current operations?”

  “It won’t take all four of us, Admiral. One chimeramancer should suffice to keep our operatives moving. The rest of us will handle the Fourth.”

  “Good,” Admiral Unega said. “I shouldn’t have to remind you how crucial our timing is, but I will anyway. You can resume your cartographic operations at the harbor when you return.”

  “Understood.”

  Admiral Unega stared at Zorian, but he remained as inscrutable as always.

  “The Mester has…seen things in his dreams,” Admiral Unega said, picking the parchment up from the table as he stood. “He believes it’s time, and I agree.”

  “As do I, Admiral,” Lucian said. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Zorian might not be able to read the admiral. But Lucian, on the other hand, was an open book. His presence on the Vengeance was by luck of the draw. There was nothing special about Lucian, and he knew it…and it ate away at him. Zorian could tell by the way he flaunted that cheap golden bracelet of office, and by how he reacted whenever someone mentioned his last assignment, which was a small temple in Barathos. There’d be a moment—an ever-so-fleeting reaction of embarrassment and shame. A humble temple priest would never amount to much. But a vivamancer who brought the true faith to the cowards? Now that was currency Lucian would be able to leverage at the court of the Diamond Throne.

  It was all beginning to fall into place for Zorian. Perhaps this was about fulfilling the empress’s original mission. It might be difficult for the admiral to convince a high ranking vivamancer to risk his status on a gamble, but a priest with no future would jump at the chance to change his destiny.

  “I’ve ordered a landing party formed,” Admiral Unega said. He thrust the document he was holding toward Zorian. “Read it.”

  Emperor Relig,

  The time has come to fulfill your oath.

  Dobros Unega

  Admiral of the Diamond Navy and Scourge of Yantoo

  “Short and to the point, Admiral,” Zorian said. Yantoo…now that was a battle for the chroniclers. As a boy, Zorian was taught how the fearless Captain Unega, in a final push to overcome the Talerion invasion, ordered his powder ships run aground and set alight. Stories said the resulting explosion was greater than ten orbs of power being destroyed at once. He enslaved the survivors of Yantoo, forced them to rebuild the city—complete with a statue of himself—and slaughtered the family of any woman who refused to come to his bed.

  Unega could make a horrible enemy.

  “Deliver it to the emperor,” Admiral Unega said. “If he refuses in any way, report back immediately.”

  “If I may ask,” Zorian said. “What is the nature of his oath?”

  Admiral Unega remained expressionless. How did the man do it? How was he the only person Zorian couldn’t read?

  “The Emperor of Religar isn’t their archmage’s most devout follower for nothing,” Admiral Unega said. “Exploit that relationship. And when the opportunity presents itself, kill him.”

  “The emperor?”

  “The archmage! You think I’ve waited forty years to assassinate a backward potentate of a poverty stricken nation?”

  Of course. Vengeance.

  It was the very name of this ship. A name Admiral Unega had chosen himself.

  And it was the very thing he swore to be an instrument of for the Glorious One.

  “Of course not,” Zorian said. “When do I leave? I’ll need to gather some things.”

  “Immediately. And one more thing.”

  Something told Zorian he wasn’t going to like this.

  “Lucian is going with you,” Admiral Unega said. “As is Lieutenant Belding. When you’ve dealt with the archmage, report back. Lucian will remain behind. He has other work to do.”

  Lucian smiled at Zorian.

  Zorian suppressed a small surge of anger. This confirmed his suspicions. The admiral intended to fulfill the empress’s old mission. He was Zorian’s adversary for the coveted title of Sian’jo.

  “If I may, Admiral,” Zorian said. “Would it not be better to send a Mester with me? Perhaps Mester Vincen could employ his art to bring this mission some success?”

  “The emperor employs the service of a cognitomancer,” Admiral Unega said.

  “I’d rather bed down in a v
iper’s nest than go anywhere near one of those blue-robed demons,” Vincen said. His tone was incredulous.

  A chimeramancer would never take that risk. The danger of a cognitomancer taking control of a chimeramancer was too great. Chimeramancers had the power to turn their dreams into reality, albeit temporarily. But a cognitomancer controlled a person directly. If the person being controlled was a chimeramancer…

  “Of course,” Zorian said. He faced Lucian. “I’ll enjoy the conversation.” Zorian was tempted to mention Lucian’s inconsequential temple just to watch the man squirm, but he refrained. It would be childish and petty. And besides, he needed to keep Lucian on his side for now.

  For now.

  “Gather your things,” Admiral Unega said. “You may take your manservant with you. It wouldn’t do to have Lucian folding your clothes.”

  Zorian nodded.

  “And don’t return until the archmage is dead.”

  Sorry, Admiral. But that is one thing I will not do. I have…other plans for him. If the Glorious One wants the archmage in shackles of his own creation, then I shall give him the tools he needs to forge them.

  Zorian began the long trek back to his quarters.

  CHAPTER THREE

  1The Power, seeing his gift tainted by Chaos, cast his breath into the multiverse and created the great realms of Air, Ground, Fire, and Water. 2His breath formed the air, his substance formed the ground, his spirit formed the fire, and his blood formed the water.

  - The Mukhtaar Chronicles, attributed to the prophet Habakku

  Origines Multiversi, Emergentiae 2:1-2

  Nicolas woke to the sound of Kaitlyn crying out.

  Moonlight poured in through the large window at the foot of the bed, casting everything in shades of blue. The gems in the wall-sized map of the Three Kingdoms shimmered like stars on the wall next to him.

  Nicolas sat up, but Kaitlyn was still asleep.

  “Kait,” Nicolas said, putting a hand on her cheek. She was bathed in sweat.

  Kaitlyn groaned and turned away.

  “Kait,” Nicolas said. “Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

  “Archmage, are you all right?” a deep voice said from the other side of his chamber doors.

  “Kait!”

  Kaitlyn stirred and grabbed Nicolas’s hand.

  The chamber door burst open, sweeping the dark room with golden torch light.

  “Archmage!” a large man with a sword said from the doorway. His voice sounded like it reverberated in a fifty-gallon drum.

  “I’m okay,” Nicolas said.

  “Forgive me, Archmage,” The man said. “When you didn’t answer, I…I didn’t—”

  “It’s fine. She was dreaming.”

  “Cool ren faire,” Kaitlyn said. “I want a henna tattoo.” She rolled over and laid her head back down.

  “We’re okay,” Nicolas said. “What’s your name?”

  The towering man drew back. “Archmage?”

  “Gonna be confusing if we’re both called Archmage, don’t you think?”

  “Uh…Diggins, Archmage. Hartwood Diggins, sergeant-at-Diggins. I mean arms! Sergeant-at-arms! I’m Diggins, not arms.” Diggins took a deep breath. “Hartwood sergeant—”

  “Yeah, we covered that, Sergeant Diggins. You can be…as you were?”

  “Archmage?”

  “At ease?”

  “But I’m not at attention.”

  “Look, I have some things to learn around here. What I’m trying to say is, would you mind if I went back to sleep for now?”

  “Oh! Certainly.” Diggins turned to leave, but stopped. “Dismissed, Archmage.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The word you were looking for. Dismissed. Say that and we’ll get the point.”

  “I prefer to ask politely. Will that work too?”

  Diggins shrugged. “I suppose it will, Archmage.”

  Diggins closed the door behind him, casting the room into moonlight once more.

  “What do you have to ask politely?” Kaitlyn asked.

  “You’re awake? You scared me for a minute.”

  “How?”

  “Well…it’s nothing,” Nicolas said.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s nothing. Just—”

  “Nicolas Murray.”

  Nicolas grabbed the back of his neck. He was sure it was nothing. Hell, she’d stepped through a portal to a different world earlier today. But there was no way she was going to go back to sleep now.

  Not when she’d called him Nicolas Murray.

  Nicolas picked up the Shrillers and Adda board from the nightstand and carefully placed it on the mattress between them, standing three of the adda pieces up when they toppled over. Whenever Kait felt anxious or sick, board games always seemed to cheer her up. He’d spent an hour or so teaching her the basics earlier in the evening.

  Kaitlyn sat up and glanced at the board.

  “You screamed,” Nicolas said. “You’ve never done that before. I’m not gonna lie. You scared the bejeezus out of me. Your turn, I think.”

  Kaitlyn placed two shriller pieces on the board and counted to five, then removed them.

  Nicolas pursed his lips.

  “I remember having some kind of dream,” Kaitlyn said. “It was odd, but every time I remember something specific about it, it slips away.”

  “Well, I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  Nicolas moved the larger adda pieces until they formed circles around the smaller ones, careful to avoid the crag spider nests and hunters.

  “I don’t know,” Kaitlyn said. “What was Tithian saying about you being born forty years ago?”

  “I know you need answers, Kait. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you. I had the mother of all freak outs when that thing pulled me through the portal. I just assumed you’d be doing the same. I guess you’re a lot stronger than I am.”

  “You were all alone.”

  “True.”

  “I understand you’re trying to be thoughtful, but that’s not how it’s coming across. Can you just tell me everything tomorrow? I’m okay with playing tourist tonight. But you need to start talking tomorrow morning.” She moved one of her pieces on the board. “Oh, and checkmate. Or…whatever you’re supposed to say when you win.”

  Nicolas stared at the board with wide eyes. “That’s not possible.”

  “You play this like you play chess. You can’t save all of your pieces all of the time.”

  “Is that your professional opinion, chess master Kaitlyn?” He smiled. “Tithian would say—oh crap. I forgot.”

  Nicolas remembered the installation service he had to be a part of in the morning. He’d forgotten to tell Kaitlyn.

  “Tomorrow morning there’s some kind of ceremony I have to go through,” Nicolas said. “No one but Council magi are allowed in the Council chambers, so you can’t be there with me. It’s a stupid rule, but I can’t do anything about it until after the ceremony. You could check out some of the shrines. I think you’d love the architecture here. Maybe let Toby meet some of the locals. As soon as the ceremony is over, we can have that conversation. How’s that for a plan?”

  The moonlight provided ample light to see she didn’t think much of his plan.

  “I swear I’m not forty years old.”

  “Why do they keep calling you Archmage?”

  “Because that’s who I am here. I’m the archmage. My birth father was the old archmage, but he was an evil bastard and I forced him into early retirement. So they gave me the job.”

  “Safe to assume you’re not going to introduce me?”

  “No need to. You already met him.”

  “Tithian?”

  Nicolas laughed. “No. The dead dude with the broom.”

  “The what?”

  He hadn’t meant for it to slip out that way, but there was no way to put that particular cat back in the bag.

  “I told you you’re safe here, remember?” Nicolas said.

&n
bsp; “Stop talking to me like I’m five. I don’t need you to keep telling me I’m safe, ass!”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Oh…my…god! Tell me it’s going to be okay one more time. I dare you!”

  “I don’t know what you want from me!”

  “I want to know about this secret world of yours. I want to know about this life you’ve lived away from me for…however long you were here. I want to know you’re the same person that left me in that apartment. For God’s sake, Nicolas, your father, Doctor Murray, just died, and you haven’t even mentioned him.”

  Nicolas shut his eyes and lowered his head. “A year ago, Kait. Dad died a year ago. I can’t explain why because I don’t understand it myself. It was a year for me.”

  “You were a scared college student who couldn’t tie a neck tie last time I saw you. And now you live in a palace? You have guards? People serve you? You think it’s normal to be surrounded by dead things?”

  Nicolas shook his head. He had no idea where to begin.

  “And what does all this mean?” Kaitlyn asked. “Are we ever going home? What about school? What about finals? Are we ever…ow!”

  Kaitlyn grabbed her temples.

  Nicolas put his arm around her and settled her back down on the bed. At least he could do that much.

  Kaitlyn wiped beads of sweat from her forehead and rested her hand over her eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Nicolas said.

  “I swear to god, if I didn’t have a marching band in my head I would knee you in the nuts.”

  “I’m sorry, I just…I’ll leave for a bit.”

  Nicolas swung his legs over the side of the bed, but as he began to stand, Kaitlyn tugged him back down.

  “Tomorrow,” Kaitlyn said. “You tell me everything.”

  “I will. And I’ll introduce you to Mujahid, if he’s around here. You’ll like him…well…if he’s not being all crotchety like he can be sometimes. But I’m sort of his boss now. No, wait…he said I’m his postulant. So is he my boss? How can anyone be the archmage’s boss? What the hell does the archmage do, anyway? Oh God, I’m so screwed.”

  “Nick.”

  “What?”

  “It’s going to be okay.”