by Nat Russo
Something changed in Morrigan’s eyes. Her expression softened.
“A magus I don’t want to strangle with his own cincture,” Morrigan said. “Wonders never cease.”
Kagan placed his arm around Nicolas’s shoulders, his cold wrist touching Nicolas’s neck.
“It would seem my blood does run through your veins,” Kagan said.
What Kagan could possibly mean by that was beyond Nicolas, but he wasn’t in the mood to get into it.
“I’ll do it,” Morrigan said.
“All right, then,” Nicolas said. “Aelron, Morrigan, you’re the backup plan. Find the fragments and get them to Dar Rodon. Hopefully, Kait can find a way to make them unnecessary. But if she can’t, at least we’ll be able to scout things out for when you get there.” He put a hand on Toridyn’s shoulder. “Was I correct in assuming you’ll need to inform the cichlos elders?”
“I can’t promise they’ll get involved, this time,” Toridyn said. “Now that Kagan’s barrier is gone, there is talk about returning to Terilya.”
Nicolas nodded. “Can you make it back safely?”
“You see all that water out there? That’s my jam, bro!”
“I actually think you said that right,” Kaitlyn said. She rushed forward and gave him a hug.
“Take care of my puppy,” Toridyn said. “He’s been through a lot.”
“He’s not disabled, Tor,” Nicolas said.
“Denial is not a quiver in Egis,” Toridyn said.
“A river in Egypt. Never mind.” Nicolas wrapped his arms around Toridyn and squeezed. “We’ll see each other again.”
Nicolas extended his hand to Aelron.
“Brother,” Aelron said. As they shook hands, Aelron pulled him close and slapped him on the back.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” Nicolas said.
Aelron smiled as he stepped back. “I’m hard to kill.”
Nicolas placed one arm around Kaitlyn and the other around Kagan.
The ruined farmhouse receded from Nicolas’s vision as he channeled power into the translocation orb.
The sanctuary at the Pinnacle rushed toward Nicolas as the translocation orb worked its magic.
When he, Kaitlyn, and Kagan materialized, a gust of cool air embraced them. The sound of a man chanting prayers was the first thing he heard.
He recognized the voice.
Tithian.
“Archmage,” Tithian said. He stood from a kneeler in front of the Orb of Power.
“What was the chanting about?” Nicolas asked.
Tithian glanced back at the kneeler. “I must repeatedly remind myself you were not raised with our customs. This is a daily devotion you should learn, and it’s my fault for your lack of knowledge. You’ll be expected to lead prayer, from time to time. I’ll teach you as soon as possible.”
“Take it easy on yourself,” Nicolas said. “Things escalated quickly when I came back.”
The feeling of being watched overcame Nicolas, and he looked over his shoulder. No one was there. It was the same sensation as last time, but he’d seen no one then either. He shrugged it off as best he could and tried to focus.
“Lady Kaitlyn,” Tithian said. He bowed slightly at the waist. “Nicolas informed me of your success at Aquonome. For that, I am happy.”
Kaitlyn grinned, obviously uncomfortable and unsure how to respond.
“The new Shandarian Ambassador arrived earlier,” Tithian said. “I was beginning to wonder if the Chancellor would ever get around to appointing one. Emperor Relig will likely appoint one in a month or—”
“We failed. There was nothing we could do. The Barathosians appeared with a column of cannons—”
“A what?”
“Larger, more destructive versions of the gun I showed you. Their soldiers materialized in the city and killed the Caspardis guards. It didn’t take long for the cannons to finish the job. The only building left standing is the fortress, and it won’t be standing for long.”
Tithian’s face paled.
“And they’re using some kind of flying animal to kill survivors.”
“Gods.”
“I’ve had to make some command decisions in the field. I’ve sent Aelron and a friend to Dyr Agul to intercept the fragments and divert them to Dar Rodon. It sounds like the Barathosians are using the same sort of magic we use to travel. Maybe the fragments will send them back to wherever they came from.”
“If the fragments work against them the way they worked against me, the Barathosians will find it difficult to send reinforcements,” Tithian said. “I’ll spend some time in thought. Perhaps there’s some way I can assist. But, were you referring to Aelron Ardirian earlier?”
“I was.”
If Tithian was shocked by the news of Caspardis, he seemed doubly so at mention of Aelron.
“Aelron Ardirian lives?” Tithian asked. “By the gods, how could I have forgotten?”
That’s right. I never mentioned him when I came back for the fragment earlier.
“How did he appear?” Tithian asked. “His face, I mean. Did he have the eyes of a Shandarian Ranger?”
“No,” Nicolas said. “He’s not a ranger. But he looks no older than me. How is that possible?”
Tithian looked down.
Aelron’s aging mystery aside, this was an opportunity to put his word to the test.
“What do you remember about him?” Nicolas asked.
“The last time I saw Aelron was the day you disappeared. Kagan sent him away to the Elysian Fortress with your mother.”
“See?” Kaitlyn said. “Aelron was telling the truth.”
“There’s another name I’m curious about,” Nicolas said. “Azazel.”
“Azazel,” Kagan said. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in…”
That strange presence returned, and Nicolas fought the urge to look over his shoulder again. The stress of everything must be affecting him more than he realized.
He drew ambient necropotency into his well to enhance his senses.
“I can’t say I know the name,” Tithian said. “Wait, the old man?”
“You tell me.”
“By the gods, that was decades ago. He was a pilgrim back before the barrier. A holy man, of sorts, though he professed vows to no particular order. Kagan took a liking to him, but sent him away with the rest of the pilgrims when the barrier went up. Your father knew him well. Why not ask him?”
“That’s…a problem. Sometimes he refuses to answer me.”
Tithian looked incredulous. “He’s your penitent. That’s not possible.”
“Penitent or not, he goes into a loop whenever he says the word Azazel. Blacks out, rewinds a few minutes, then repeats himself. And that reminds me…something else is going on. I had a penitent pulled back to the Plane of Death. I tried to keep him here by pushing more power into the necromantic link, and it felt like it was going to explode or something.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that happening. We’ll have to ask Lord Mukhtaar about this. If anyone would know what’s wrong with your necromantic link, it’s a Mukhtaar Lord.”
The sensation of being watched became overpowering, and Nicolas turned around. A rush of energy swept past him, and from the look on Tithian’s face, he’d felt it too. Wind blew through the room, warm and humid, smelling like jungle and dirt. It whipped Nicolas’s hair around until he thought the kneeler would tip over.
A blinding white light appeared near the door and emitted a crackling noise.
A man materialized in the doorway.
But not just any man.
“By Shealynd’s rosy arse!” Nuuan said. “There’s the cross-dressing postulant I’ve been looking for. Someone call for a Mukhtaar Lord?”
“Mujahid?” Kaitlyn asked. Her eyes were wide.
“Lord Nuuan!” Nicolas said.
Nicolas hadn’t seen the Battle for Rotham first hand, but Mujahid had told him about the death fog into which Nuuan had disappeared. And Nic
olas had personally summoned two penitents outside of Arin’s Watch who reported similar events during the Religarian siege. Mujahid had spent months searching for signs of Nuuan throughout the Three Kingdoms. And here he was, standing in the sanctuary.
“Where have you been?” Nicolas asked.
“That question holds no meaning,” Nuuan said. “Never mind that. Something is trying to pierce the veil. Something old. It’s beginning to succeed, and that was enough to pull me back. But the longer I stay on this plane, the more likely this entire business will fail.”
“I’m hearing the words, Lord Nuuan, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My time here is governed by—” Nuuan glanced at Kaitlyn, then stared at her and smiled.
What is it with these Mukhtaar brothers around Kait?
“This must be the Lady Kaitlyn,” Nuuan said. He bowed at the waist.
When Nuuan straightened, it was as if the whole exchange never happened.
“I can’t maintain this state for long,” Nuuan said. Whatever sweetness his voice held when addressing Kaitlyn was gone. “You’re going to Dar Rodon because you think Lady Kaitlyn can do something about the Barathosians. And she can. But you’ll need the emperor’s help.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I can teach, or I can do. There isn’t time for both.”
Nicolas took a deep breath and nodded.
“There’s something you need to do when you get there,” Nuuan said. “You’ll be tempted to hide what she is from Emperor Relig. Don’t.”
“But secrecy is the key to the whole plan.”
“Cognitomancers are a rare and precious thing,” Nuuan said. “The emperor has employed one throughout his reign, but he’s yet to find another. And the man he employs in that position has grown old. Emperor Relig will see Lady Kaitlyn as an opportunity. He’ll protect her.”
Something wasn’t adding up.
“Why would she need protection from the emperor?” Nicolas asked. “It’s the Barathosians we should be worried about.”
“Toren Relig is a Barathosian puppet,” Nuuan said. “You’ll need leverage, if you’re going to make him fall in line.”
“But Emperor Relig was one of Kagan’s most fervent supporters,” Tithian said.
“Did you ever hear me say I trusted him?” Kagan asked.
“If this is true, Nicolas could be walking into a trap,” Tithian said. “I can’t allow him to do this alone. I’ll prepare—”
“You can, and you will,” Nuuan said. “You’re needed here. That pot you’ve been stirring with the Sodality isn’t boiling yet.”
Tithian widened his eyes.
“What’s he talking about?” Nicolas asked.
“How can you know that?” Tithian whispered.
Kagan chuckled. “Our Prime Warlock was always one to have his eyes set on multiple horizons.”
“It has nothing to do with either of you, so back on topic,” Nuuan said. “Toren Relig is an old emperor accustomed to conquest and crushing young men like you under his heel.”
“True,” Tithian said. “But Nicolas holds more leverage than Emperor Relig is aware of.” He faced Nicolas. “The Book of Life. Kagan’s lie made him who he is. Your truth can undo him with a single word.”
“How?” Nicolas asked.
“Have you never wondered why this place is called the Three Kingdoms when only one nation has a king?” Nuuan asked. “There’s a union, a kingdom, and an empire.”
“As a matter of fact, I asked your brother that once. He dodged my question.”
“The Shandarian Union was a result of democratic process,” Kagan said. “But a slip of my pen transformed Toren Relig from king to emperor. In one of the pages I forged in the Book of Life, I made reference to the Religarian Empire. King Relig assumed those words came from the god Arin as a sign of divine favor.”
“And ever since, he’s called himself emperor and believes he has a divine right of conquest and manifest destiny,” Nuuan said.
“Strange to hear that here,” Kaitlyn said. “It was a term used—loosely—to justify expanding the borders of a nation back on Earth.”
“That is precisely what Toren Relig believes, my lady,” Nuuan said.
Why is he being so formal with her?
Nuuan faced Nicolas. “Yet now you know otherwise. With a single decree from Your Most High Holy Pen of Self-Righteousness, the Religarian Empire can become the Kingdom of Religar once more.”
“I get it,” Nicolas said, gesturing for them to stop. “But, I’m no politician. I have no idea how to actually use this information.”
“The emperor will do anything to protect his dynasty’s status,” Tithian said. “Make it clear to him, in no uncertain terms, that failure to help will come at a price he’s unwilling to pay.”
“Exactly,” Nuuan said. “Threaten to make him a lowly king again and he’ll piss himself trying to assist you. But if you shrink away from the authority he believes you to have, he’ll end your life in the name of religious purification.”
“So,” Nicolas said. “If I hear this correctly, what you’re telling me—what you’re both telling me—is I need to march into the Religarian Empire and act like the king of all assholes?”
Tithian and Nuuan looked at each other, then back to Nicolas.
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“That’s what I would do,” Kagan said.
“Okay, then,” Nicolas said.
Nuuan faced Tithian. “Mujahid will have questions. And I can’t go where he’s going—by the hells, I shouldn’t even be here. But he’ll eventually come here to find me. Take this.” He opened his right hand and a rose of Shealynd materialized, pervading the room with fragrance. “Tell him to place this at the base of Shealynd’s statue.”
Whatever magic Nuuan had used to achieve that little trick, it wasn’t necromancy.
Tithian nodded and took the rose.
“In your chambers, Tithian,” Nuuan said. “I placed a parchment in your desk. Read it when you’re alone.”
Nuuan lowered his arm and vanished.
There’d been no warning. No change in Nuuan’s tone or demeanor. Just a disappearance.
“I’ll keep this in the vestry for Lord Mujahid’s arrival,” Tithian said, staring at the rose. “This day has been…eventful.”
“Why does Nuuan seem to think you’re involved with the Sodality?”
Tithian looked down. “I was going to discuss this with you in due time.”
“Isn’t this something I should be aware of?”
“In general, yes. But there are realities of running the Pinnacle you haven’t been exposed to yet. The less you know of the specifics, the more protected you’ll be…should anything go awry.”
“That sounds a lot like someone shielding a politician from illegal acts,” Kaitlyn said.
Tithian faced Nicolas. “You’re the leader of the Arinian Church now. You might not be a politician, but don’t fool yourself into thinking your position isn’t political. The people hold you in awe because of your relationship to their gods. But your work isn’t accomplished through prayer. It’s accomplished through influence. Influence requires knowledge. But knowledge comes at a price. My primary concern is guaranteeing that price is not the esteem in which you’re held.”
“I could be oversimplifying this, but I would think if the act is something that would tarnish anything, it’s something we should avoid.”
Tithian grinned. “You’re right, of course. But the Pinnacle is a ship built for strategy, not tactics. Come about too quickly, and we risk capsizing.”
“So you’re saying this has something to do with Kagan’s reign?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Among the various things the Sodality does, it acquires knowledge,” Tithian said. “It is one of many religious organizations in the Three Kingdoms, though it is among the most ancient. Kagan allowed the organization free reign.”
Tithian was right. There was much a
bout the politics of the Pinnacle Nicolas knew nothing about. He had no other option than to trust Tithian in this.
“Can we at least get a meal before we leave?” Nicolas asked.
“Of course,” Tithian said. “I’ll have food brought to your chambers while I’m retrieving the translocation orb…and the mystery parchment Lord Nuuan spoke of. The Religarian orb will take you directly inside the palace to an imperial reception room.”
Nicolas nodded and took Kaitlyn’s hand. It would be nice to have a quiet meal, even if only for a few minutes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
In the year 400 BCE, Tycon Mukhtaar stepped over the threshold after murdering his father, Lord Baladi, who intended to stop him. A tyrant of unmitigated evil, Tycon Mukhtaar believed himself immortal and enslaved the priesthood of Zubuxo for four centuries.
The Cult of Malvol thrived under Tycon’s reign, and Clan Mukhtaar made no concerted effort to quell the heresy.
Toward the end of his reign, in the year 20 BCE, a small group of slaves revolted, sparking what later became the Necromancer Wars. An agent of the Pinnacle, with the assistance of a newly emancipated slave, assassinated Tycon in 15 BCE.
Lords Nuuan and Mujahid Mukhtaar eventually exhumed, dismembered, and incinerated his body. His ashes were warded in a hidden place within the Mukhtaar Estate, where Zubuxo commanded he remain, impenitent, for one thousand years.
- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, Second Cycle, 10 CE
Redacted by Mujahid Lord Mukhtaar in 45 CE.
If I could make it two thousand years, I would. But Pelagon Ardirian tells us Zubuxo’s decision is final. Perhaps I should consider getting more involved in Pinnacle affairs. Maybe then I’d find some way of communicating directly with Zubuxo. In the interim, Nuuan and I have stripped Tycon of his title. We can at least take some comfort in knowing Tycon will never again be referred to as Lord.
- Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 45 CE