Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles

by Nat Russo

Yet there were those among the citizens of Egis that wanted the old government back?

  Why?

  “You look concerned,” Malcolm said. “No need to be. She’s in good hands now. Off the streets and set to a purpose. And she won’t want for food or clothing anymore.”

  “It’s time,” Ranthos said. “We need to eat before Dar Rodon. Place is huge. It won’t fall as easily as this dump.”

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Malcolm said. “Word of advice, though. Work curfew begins in less than an hour. Anyone out on the street will be given a job to do.”

  Aelron bowed slightly at the waist. “Long Live the Glorious One.”

  As the Barathosians walked away, Morrigan leaned close to Aelron. “Why do I feel like that woman is about as safe as an adda in a charnal house?”

  “What do you know of Dar Rodon?” Aelron whispered.

  Morrigan shrugged. “Like he said. Big city. Bigger than Shandar. Never been there, though.”

  “If you ask me, Dar Rodon is exactly the sort of information my brother needs. If that’s their next target, he needs to know. And I think it’s a little strange they’re occupying Egis and paying reparations when they’ve occupied no other city, don’t you?”

  Morrigan nodded. “It’s time we left.”

  “How?” Aelron said.

  “I told you before. There are two safe houses here. One of them is our way out. Follow me.”

  Morrigan jogged into the cross street and headed north.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  In the year 841 BCE, Sadiq Qureshi stepped over the threshold, becoming Sadiq Lord Mukhtaar Qureshi. He led Clan Mukhtaar for some seventy years, ultimately giving all authority to his son Aziz, who ascended in 791 BCE. Lord Sadiq lived another forty years after the transfer of power.

  The Zerubulan Revolt (845 - 839 BCE) demanded most of his attention in the early part of his reign.

  - Coteon of the Steppes, “The Mukhtaar Chronicles: Coteonic Commentaries” (circa 680 BCE)

  Coteon was uncharacteristically silent with regard to the Zerubulan Revolt. Perhaps because of how short-lived it was. I’ve pieced together enough to learn Clan Zerubula brought charges against Clan Mukhtaar in front of what was known as the Necromantic Council. It was a territorial dispute of some sort, alleging Clan Mukhtaar had illegally expanded into southern Religar. Lord Sadiq made the case that the expansion was lawful. The Council agreed and that was the end of the matter. Legally, at least. History shows Clan Zerubula had other plans.

  - Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 22 CE

  The ziggurat pulled Mujahid toward it, so massive was its scale. The sensation was an illusion, a trick his mind would play when perceiving something so large, but the effect was unbalancing.

  Sweat ran into his eyes and down the sides of his face. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, flies had begun to pester him as well.

  High Priestess Thalina led him toward a squared entryway cut into the center of the main stairs. As they drew closer to the steps, Mujahid’s gazed traveled up to the summit. It would take him hours to climb that high, and he’d have to stop a few times along the way.

  “How often do you climb to the top?” Mujahid asked.

  Thalina smiled. It was neither humorous nor sarcastic. It was the amused smile a parent gives when a child asks if they’ll ever grow a tail.

  “Only Digby travels to the top, Exalted One,” Thalina said. “That is his sacred place.”

  Mujahid needed no reminder of Digby’s telekinetic skills. He’d managed to leap off the wall surrounding Rotham to save Mujahid, then leap back to the top. The little man could probably reach the ziggurat’s summit without his feet ever touching ground.

  “Tell me,” Mujahid said. “You refer to me as Exalted One, and my brother as The God Nuuan. Yet you call Digby…Digby. Why? What is Digby to you?”

  Thalina appeared surprised at the question. “Digby is Digby. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  At least her logic was unassailable.

  The entrance to the temple was pristine, as if it had been swept shortly before their arrival. And it bore none of the telltale musty odors he’d expected. The tunnel, constructed of masterful brickwork with mortar that shone like liquid gold, came to an end across from a curious mosaic between two torches.

  It was a depiction of Digby engaged in various acts of lewd conduct on the platform at the top of the ziggurat. Wine flowed up from the center of the platform into a fountain of red jewels that cascaded into Digby’s cup and all over the men and women he was engaged with. Digby, smiling, held a rod in one hand, and his eyes glowed as if he were a Mukhtaar Lord. He pointed the rod at the sky, which depicted the smiling face of Nuuan looking down on the temple. Amber-colored gems surrounded Nuuan’s face like a halo. A giant right arm swept out from behind a cloud and ended with a hand pointing straight down at the temple.

  Thalina bowed before a placard that read The Queen’s Retreat.

  Leave it to Nuuan to commission such an affront to good taste.

  Tunnels leading left and right continued for a dozen yards or more, then turned inward toward the temple’s depths. Thalina chose the left tunnel and led Mujahid farther into the temple.

  Torches lined the inner wall, casting an orange glow where natural light couldn’t reach. Phallic statues sat upon pedestals in niches along the walls. Images of grapes, wine chalices, and scenes of revelry were carved into the stone between the niches.

  While the imagery was distasteful, it also made sense. If Nuuan’s purpose here was to achieve deific ascendance with haste, and such ascendancy required worshipers, it would be at cross purposes to create a religion requiring heroic sacrifice and prudish morals.

  Preach the sanctity of wine, sex, and revelry, however, and the religion would sell itself.

  As they continued down the hall, the images grew more gruesome. Each image, of which there were a dozen or more, was similar to the others in one disturbing way; they depicted a person reaching for the rod Digby held, then burning until their features melted into nothingness. They writhed and screamed as their liquefied skin dripped to the paver stones beneath their feet.

  Mujahid and Thalina rounded a corner in the passage and came to a square entrance as wide as the hallway. A gossamer curtain stretched across the entryway, and pinpoints of light shone through from beyond. The scent of Nuuan’s favorite ritual incense was strong here.

  “The Temple of Nuuan lies beyond,” Thalina said.

  Thalina drew the curtain aside and motioned for Mujahid to step through.

  What Mujahid saw next made him turn around and check the stone over the entryway for a pictograph.

  How can this be?

  He gazed at the floating green lights in the distance, trying to absorb the significance of what he saw. Standing before him, contained completely within the gargantuan ziggurat, was an exact replica of the Mukhtaar Estate. But where a statue of Zubuxo stood over the entrance at the true estate, a giant statue of Nuuan stood instead.

  Heresy. My own brother is a heretic.

  Familiar gold and black scroll work wound its way around the massive structure and up the wide stone stairs that spanned the width of the building. Three monolithic ceremonial doors stood at the head of the stairs. All that was missing was the contingent of undead guarding the entrance.

  The walls of the ziggurat sloped upward and inward as if Mujahid were underneath a grand staircase. But the steps vanished into the darkness above. Not even the floating green orbs illuminated the top.

  Thalina walked ahead of him, then indicated they should stop.

  “Where are the priests?” Mujahid asked. “I must speak with them.”

  “What you ask is not possible.”

  “Have they no ears or mouths?”

  Thalina looked dumbfounded. “Of course they have mouths. I believe they have ears as well. That is to say, I believe they hear.”

  Mujahid cocked his head to the side. Was she truly uncertain whether the priests
had ears? Or was she being sarcastic?

  “Regardless,” Thalina said. “No one enters the hive except for the God Nuuan.”

  Hive? When I relocated the portal, a pictograph of a hive appeared above it.

  This was growing stranger by the minute.

  “You mean the priests are not in that large structure ahead?” Mujahid asked.

  “Yes. They are.”

  Mujahid walked forward and Thalina grabbed his arm.

  “No, my lord!” Thalina said. “This is not right!”

  Mujahid shook her arm off and took another step.

  He wished he hadn’t.

  It was as if he’d walked into a solid wall of power, but one which contracted then slammed into his chest when he touched it. The release of energy sent him reeling backward until he stumbled and landed on his bottom.

  Thalina shook her head. “The God Nuuan disapproves.”

  “The festering god Nuuan can eat a…” He needed to get control of himself. “Never mind.”

  Mujahid ignited the symbol of ascension and tried to probe the invisible wall, but the power wouldn’t leave him. The ambient probing energy he felt outside entered his mind and absorbed the power. No matter where he went or how much power he drew, the ambient probe dominated him, rendering him powerless.

  Dominated.

  What was it Digby had said? Dominance often unlocks doors that would otherwise remain barred and bolted.

  Mujahid called to mind the image of The Queen’s Retreat. Digby had been pointing a rod at Nuuan, who in turn pointed at the temple.

  Mujahid wasn’t certain, but it was worth trying.

  “Thalina,” Mujahid said. “I need you to bring me something. Two somethings, in fact. Bring me the Rod of Domination and the Great Horned Phallus of Nuuan.”

  “I can bring you the phallus,” Thalina said. “But not the Rod. It is not possible. I will show you.”

  Thalina touched the wall, and it made a grinding noise. A section eight feet tall by six feet wide swung open, revealing two small niches containing the items Mujahid sought.

  On one pedestal rested the phallus. It measured a half-meter in length, and multiple curved horns protruded from the surface in no identifiable pattern.

  The second pedestal was different, however. Hovering an inch or two above the surface was a translucent cube of energy, within which floated a rod bearing remarkable resemblance to the rod in The Queen’s Retreat. Above the cube was another mosaic, smaller than The Queen’s Retreat, but recognizable as the face of Digby.

  Mujahid retrieved the phallus and knew he was in the presence of magic.

  Just like Nuuan to turn a phallus into an object of power.

  It was possible the phallus alone would get him beyond the energy field. But first, he’d rather not be wrong and get tossed across the room again. And second, the more he thought about things, the more he realized how necessary the Rod of Domination would be.

  Mujahid reached for the rod, but Thalina grabbed his arm, pulling it away from the hovering cube of energy.

  “The God Nuuan will disapprove of this as well, my lord,” Thalina said. “I’ve seen men try to take the Rod of Domination before. So have you.”

  “I have?”

  “The burning people.”

  Mujahid remembered the horrific images in the mosaics leading into the temple.

  If these objects were the key to getting through the energy field, then perhaps the symbol of ascension was the key to getting into the hovering cube. What other reason would Digby have to depict his eyes as glowing in The Queen’s Retreat?

  Mujahid ignited the symbol of ascension and extended his arm.

  Again Thalina tried to stop him.

  He faced her and she shrank away.

  As his hand passed into the energy cube, a surge of heat engulfed the horned phallus. Images of the burning men in the mosaics flooded through his mind, and for a moment he thought he’d made a horrible mistake. But the heat that likely would have burned him alive diverted from his hand into the phallus. When the last of the heat subsided, Mujahid retrieved the Rod of Domination.

  Thalina looked at him as if he would burst into flame at any moment.

  The rod was an object of power. Mujahid could sense the energy within. But there was something else. The moment he grasped the Rod of Domination, the ambient field of probing energy evaporated. And he was convinced it would no longer restrict him from using necropotency.

  Mujahid walked toward the invisible energy field. He glanced at Thalina. “Are you coming along?”

  “Only one may pass,” Thalina said.

  Mujahid stepped past the threshold where the energy field had stopped him. But there was no difference between that step and the last.

  As he walked farther, lights flickered into existence in the darkened alcoves at the top of the stone steps.

  A rush of wind blew past him and up the stairs as the center door swung open with a creak.

  An ominous sign. The estate’s central door was known as the Mourning Door. And the Mourning Door only opened upon the death of a Mukhtaar Lord.

  He climbed the steps in the shadow of the statue of Nuuan, offering a silent prayer to Zubuxo for protection and safe passage. Only Nuuan and Digby knew, with any certainty, what was inside the temple. And they were keeping quiet on the subject.

  His mind worked quickly now that he was capable of using necropotency again. Events whose significance had gone unnoticed earlier were revealing their true weight with every step he took.

  At the true estate, when he’d moved the portal from the Algidian Peaks to this place, the symbol had changed to a hive. Nuuan’s prophecy mentioned a hive. But there was more to the prophecy than that. If he recalled the words, they were “when I bring the temple to you, rouse the hive and fight.”

  When I bring the temple to you.

  This could be no coincidence. The temple was an exact replica of the Mukhtaar Estate. From a certain point of view, moving the portal could be interpreted as bringing the temple to them.

  And then there was Thalina’s confusing comments about the priests of Nuuan.

  Whoever he found inside this temple, he no longer believed they would be human.

  Any similarities that existed between the outside of the temple and the outside of the Mukhtaar Estate vanished when Mujahid reached the top of the stairs.

  The Mourning Door looked in upon a long, wide tunnel, which was illuminated by an inner light source that cast striated shades of amber along the walls. The tunnel wall was coated in a slippery substance that gave Mujahid the impression of stepping inside a living being. It cambered downward to the left, until anything farther was out of sight.

  Mujahid glanced back at Thalina, who had prostrated herself on the ground.

  Stone slab gave way to dirt and pebbles as Mujahid stepped into the tunnel.

  But the sound that returned from deep within made him stop.

  Dozens of feet walking—no, clicking—came from the corridor ahead. Mujahid considered going forward, but the creature emerging from the lower tunnel filled him with a terror he’d not known in decades. Perhaps ever.

  It landed in front of him with the grace of an adda-ki and held six tarsal swords extended straight out to the sides. The nightmarish insectoid figure towered over him. More than a dozen eyes filled an ant-like skull, and four independent pincers opened and closed around its elongated mouth. The overlapping scales covering its body would make it impervious to steel, and the muscular legs, bent backward at the knee joint, would make escape impossible. This creature could reach the top of the ziggurat in two jumps.

  Argram!

  What Mujahid was seeing couldn’t be real. Argram were predators that once hunted humans to near extinction. But they themselves had been extinct since before recorded time.

  Not even the battle with the ancient cyclops had paralyzed him with as much terror as he felt in this moment.

  But he had to fight. He had to survive.


  He ignited the symbol of ascension and opened a channel to the skull symbol.

  The probing energy returned and entered his mind. This time it didn’t stop him from casting.

  Be at ease, Mukhtaar Lord, a voice said in his mind. The voice was like a thousand people speaking in perfect unison. But it was calming. Hypnotic. We are the Emissary. We are the Speaker. We are peace.

  The argram folded its tarsal swords and bent its knees until it was the same height as Mujahid.

  The presence of this creature defied everything Mujahid knew of natural philosophy.

  Yet here was an argram, folding its deadly tarsal swords—swords that were natural extensions of its chitinous exoskeleton. And it spoke of peace.

  Mujahid released his grasp on the necropotency and extinguished the symbol of ascension. It had been a foolish move born of fear anyway. Had he chosen to fight, it would have been the shortest battle of his life.

  “This can’t be,” Mujahid said.

  The argram cocked its head to the side and walked around Mujahid, viewing him from all angles. Its pincers clicked and clacked as it circled.

  Mujahid swallowed.

  “You are exactly who we know you to be,” the argram said.

  “I may not be who you think I am,” Mujahid said.

  “You are the other,” the argram said. “Your nestling told us you would come.”

  Nuuan.

  “Come,” the argram said. “We have much to discuss. But we cannot do so here.”

  The argram nodded toward the temple’s entrance, and Mujahid saw Thalina out of the corner of his eye.

  “There are those who would not understand what we are about to tell you,” the argram said.

  “I have questions,” Mujahid said.

  “Questions only the queen can answer.”

  The argram strode farther into the tunnel.

  Mujahid swallowed again.

  In his most feverish imagination, marching into a hive of curiously non-extinct argram was a thought Mujahid never entertained as possible.

  He took a deep breath and followed. His life was in the argram’s hands now, for better or worse.