Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles

by Nat Russo

  There!

  Aelron dove once more. He could swim faster under water than at the surface.

  Sharp rocks along the eastern bank combined with the swift current, making it impossible to drift toward the shore.

  “Morrigan!” he said.

  She waved and pointed toward the drifting wreckage.

  Good idea. Some of those boards are still seaworthy.

  The Orm had banked to the west, and the Barathosian riverboats were out of sight. He lifted her out of the water and placed her on a piece of wreckage three boards wide. It would have to do for now.

  Voices downriver drifted up on the wind, and it took Aelron a few moments to realize he wasn’t alone.

  “There!” Morrigan said.

  A riverboat with a covered deck, smaller than the two blockading the Egis port, traveled up from the south, its great wheel spinning fast against the raging current.

  That’s why the bastards didn’t pursue us. They knew there was another one coming.

  What should he do? Should he look for help or take his chances? The shock of the explosion was clouding his mind.

  Morrigan began shouting and waving.

  “What are you doing? They’re Religarians!”

  “No. It’s a cargo vessel!”

  A brown-turbaned Religarian with thick muttonchops pointed at Aelron and was shouting to someone else on the ship.

  “Grab the lines!” the man yelled. He never took his eyes off Morrigan.

  Two thick ropes landed in the water next to Aelron and Morrigan.

  “Hurry!” the man yelled. “They have spotters!”

  Aelron nodded and fastened a rope around his waist while Morrigan did the same with hers.

  As the strangers lifted them out of the water, the turbaned man approached the side of the boat and pulled the right side of his shirt open.

  On his chest was a sapphire tattoo of a radiant sun.

  “Dear gods,” Morrigan said. “What have I done?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Coteon’s death in 669 BCE was a great loss to the scholarly community, and a great loss to Clan Mukhtaar. I say this because Nuuan and I found the Mukhtaar Chronicles to be largely neglected in his absence. I can only hope one of the countless sealed chambers within the Mukhtaar Estate contain additional works and commentaries of his.

  I’ve removed the insane ramblings of Tycon Mukhtaar and placed them into a separate volume. The writings are little more than “pure blood” propaganda, legitimizing genocide in the name of keeping the Mukhtaar Lordship “sacred”. I’ll make them public one day so that the priesthood can judge for itself.

  I shall endeavor to fill in the gaps where Coteon left off. Following his example, I will not continue the system of numbering verses. The chronicles of the lords is not intended to be a collection of sacred writings as was the Origines, and I do not wish to lend any more weight to my words than they deserve.

  - Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 12 CE

  Nicolas paced between a gold-trimmed buffet and a door with a golden handle.

  One minute, he’d been escorted from the throne room, and the next he was having some crazy acid trip about a picnic at the Pinnacle, complete with a healthy dose of 512 Pecan Porter and Kagan singing Maori party songs.

  Saleem must have had something to do with it. Was he the aging cognitomancer Nuuan had warned him about?

  And speaking of Nuuan, how could he betray them like this? Had Nicolas followed his gut, he would never have told the emperor about Kaitlyn.

  There has to be something I can do!

  Nicolas leaned his head back and looked up.

  He stood under a ceiling trimmed with gold crown molding. A spiderweb pattern of gold filigree led from the molding to the center of the ceiling, where a gold-trimmed chandelier hung. The room was well appointed. Not in a “this place has tasteful furniture” sense. It was more like a “let’s cover everything in gold to let people know we’re rich” sense.

  But it wasn’t the waiting or boastful display of wealth that was upsetting Nicolas. He had no idea where Kaitlyn was or what they were doing to her.

  The imperial guard had brought them there to wait on Zorian, according to Saleem. And while it wasn’t a proper jail cell, the guards posted outside made it clear he wasn’t welcome to roam.

  “You’re smart enough to know you’re in danger, I presume?” Kagan asked.

  The sudden sound of Kagan’s voice was startling.

  “What do you mean I’m in danger?” Nicolas said. “You think you’re making it out of here alive if they turn on us?”

  “If I make it out of here alive, it will be a miracle for the chroniclers.”

  “Semantics. You need to find a way to tie them up in conversation so I can slip out and find Kait.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I know it’s not a good idea!”

  The golden door handle turned, and the door swung open.

  Zorian Osa and a man in simple tunic and trousers entered. Zorian swept his gaze around the room and settled on the gold-trimmed buffet. He made a clicking noise with his tongue and looked at the other man.

  “Tullias,” Zorian said.

  The man in simple clothing stepped forward and bowed.

  “The emperor’s manners are lacking,” Zorian said. He flashed a fake smile at Kagan. “Have refreshments brought from the kitchens.”

  “At once, Zhuma.”

  Tullias bowed and left.

  Start doing what you do best, Nicolas said through the necromantic link.

  What I do, as you put it, doesn’t simply happen, Kagan said. It requires weeks…months of meticulous planning. Politics isn’t magic. Zorian has all the advantages here.

  “Zhuma,” Kagan said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that is a Barathosian word, is it not?”

  Zorian lost the fake smile and stepped closer to Kagan.

  “I serve the Diamond Throne,” Zorian said. “I am here to bring you to justice for the death of Yotto. The Glorious One demands it.”

  Kagan chuckled.

  “You find this amusing?” Zorian said.

  “Your empress’s son breached protocol and failed to identify himself,” Kagan said. “Do you think I’d be foolish enough to kill the heir of a foreign nation while trying to establish diplomatic ties? Summon the emperor. At once!”

  Zorian casually went to a gold-painted chair next to the buffet and sat facing Kagan.

  “I’m afraid there’s been a change of puppet masters, Archmage,” Zorian said. “I hold Toren Relig’s strings now. And you’ll find I have a firm grip. He may fear losing his soul to you, but I assure you he fears losing his empire to me much more.”

  Kagan sat in the chair facing Zorian, adjusted his clothes and leaned back.

  “Then we are at an impasse,” Kagan said.

  Zorian clicked his tongue. “An impasse is only possible when power is in balance. Your power was forfeit the moment you arrived.”

  Every word he spoke is correct, Kagan said. He holds the power here. You bumbled into his trap like a fool, and now we will pay the price.

  “Need I remind you I’m a magus and you are not?” Kagan said.

  “You disappoint me, Archmage. I was told you dealt with such matters with grace and finesse. Yet here you are threatening me like a cutpurse with a blunt object. Come now. It’s beneath you.”

  “Then you tell me,” Kagan said. “This is your show. How does it play out?”

  “Show is a wonderful choice of words, for reasons I’ll come to. Suffice it to say I’ll not arrest you. You’re free to go.”

  What’s his angle?

  I have no idea, Kagan said. “Setting me free is an odd way to bring me to justice.”

  “I have a great deal of respect for you,” Zorian said. “I’m told you are—or were, forty years ago—an eminently reasonable man. I intend to appeal to that sense of reason. We will have two conversations. Consider it a play in two acts, to us
e your earlier metaphor. I have every confidence that by the end of our second conversation, you will come with me to Barathosia of your own free will.”

  Is he insane?

  You can bet your life he is in full control of his faculties, Kagan said. This is a very dangerous man.

  “If you decide to do otherwise,” Zorian said, “there is a very angry admiral sitting off the coast who would love nothing more than to take vengeance on you in the name of the Diamond Throne.”

  “Now who’s threatening with a dull object?” Kagan said.

  “Some dull objects are sharper than others.”

  Tullias entered the room carrying a tray, which he set on the buffet.

  “I’ll return soon for our first conversation,” Zorian said. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

  Zorian and Tullias left, closing the door behind them.

  “I am at a complete loss,” Kagan said. “He could have had me killed or arrested, yet he leaves me here to wait on a conversation.”

  “There’s something bigger at play here,” Nicolas said. “If he represents the Diamond Throne, and that Admiral does as well, then why do they seem to be at odds with one another? The angry admiral wants you dead, but Zorian wants you to go with him?”

  “Whatever this is, it will not end well. Perhaps you should take his offer and leave.”

  “I know you’re not that ignorant.”

  “Ignorance would have you remain in danger when you should flee to safety, Archmage,” Kagan said.

  “You don’t see how trapped we are because you don’t care a whit about what happens to Kaitlyn.”

  “There are many females in this world, boy, and many of them will want to spend time with a man of your status.”

  Heat rose in Nicolas’s face.

  “Was that how you saw my mother?” Nicolas said. “Just another female in the world?”

  Kagan stood, toppling the chair behind him. “No! And don’t you ever suggest it!”

  That was…unexpected.

  “So you did have feelings for her?” Nicolas asked.

  “Of course I did! I loved Allyson!”

  Kagan sat once more.

  “This existence is a strange one,” Kagan said. “I don’t know how much of what I do is my own volition and how much is compelled. I don’t know where I stop and you begin.”

  Nicolas sat in the chair Zorian had left behind.

  “I’ve never heard a penitent speak like you,” Nicolas said.

  “You commanded me to be myself. I suspect that has something to do with it.”

  “One thing is certain,” Nicolas said. “There’s no way I’m slipping out of this room with those guards outside.”

  “Then all we can do is wait.”

  Nicolas nodded. But he couldn’t help wanting to fight his way through that door.

  Hold on, Kait. I’ll be coming for you.

  True to his word, Zorian didn’t keep Nicolas and Kagan waiting long. He returned to their well-appointed, gold-encrusted, wealth-exuding room about an hour later. His servant Tullias followed with a full dinner tray, which he placed on the buffet.

  A small part of Nicolas was surprised the food wasn’t gold plated too.

  “I’ll begin our first conversation with a very simple question,” Zorian said. “Will you accept that what you did was wrong, a crime against the Diamond Throne, and turn yourself over to me?”

  Zorian held up a finger to forestall a reply.

  “Before you answer, there’s a story you must hear,” Zorian said. He stood from his chair and paced.

  “Sixty-seven years ago, the Glorious One gave birth to a child,” Zorian said. “Yotto. Her first of what would be fifteen children. On his twenty-sixth birthday, his mother, our empress, presented him with a duty given her by the gods themselves during the Incarnation Ceremony.”

  What is he talking about?

  That’s what the Barathosians call the Rite of Manifestation, Kagan said.

  “‘Go to the new land in the west,’ she said. ‘Tell them of our ways. Show them how to harness vitapotency. For they have discovered it, but know not how to use it properly.’ And so Yotto’s diplomatic training intensified. As is our custom, only a member of the Imperial family may forge a diplomatic relationship on behalf of the throne. But we had an archmage already, and Arin’s instructions said nothing of what to do about the archmage across the ocean.”

  Zorian faced Kagan.

  “So the Glorious One, in her benevolence, made a decision that shook the foundation of our society,” Zorian said. “She commanded a second Temple of the Gods be constructed in Barathos, but this one for the westerners. For you. She ignored Tradition, saying our understanding of the world had been incorrect.”

  A sense of confusion seeped from the necromantic link into Nicolas’s consciousness. Kagan had never been told of this.

  “For the first time in the history of our ancient empire, there would be two archmages,” Zorian said. “They would share power and duties. The west would be welcomed like a lost brother. But this would put a strain on resources the Treasury couldn’t sustain. It would have not only emptied the Imperial vault, but also the combined treasuries of the three largest great families.”

  “Nonsense,” Kagan said. “Your empress had no such intentions. She would have replaced me at the order of her own archmage.”

  “At first, the people didn’t respond well to this,” Zorian said. He continued as if from memory. “Many rose up in rebellion and sought to depose the Glorious One. So the Glorious One gathered the five weakest great families and convinced them to come together as one. Their combined might quashed the rebellion.”

  “What does any of this have to do with Yotto?” Kagan asked.

  Zorian stepped forward. “Together, they gathered the resources required and built the Temple of the Gods. The Glorious One called the people to gather below the Bridge of Diamond. She promised open trade between East and West would refill the drained treasuries.”

  Zorian took another step forward and leaned over Kagan.

  “She swore this on the life of her youngest son,” Zorian said. “So you see, Archmage, you didn’t only kill one of the Glorious One’s children.”

  “What right did she have to swear that oath without speaking to me first?” Kagan said.

  “But she did. Through Yotto. The year he spent with you was productive, was it not? You learned much about us and we about you.”

  Is that true?

  A sense of resignation returned from the link.

  It is, Kagan said. I was quite fond of the boy, actually, even without knowing his true identity. But when he spoke of another archmage across the ocean…I brought this to Azazel’s attention, and…

  No! Don’t think about Azazel!

  “What right did she have to swear that oath without speaking to me first?” Kagan repeated.

  Aww shit.

  Zorian gave Kagan a look of confusion that turned to anger.

  “You expected the Glorious One to travel here herself to speak to you?” Zorian asked. “You’re more foolish than I thought you’d be.”

  Nicolas wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep this up. If the mere passing thought of Azazel could send Kagan into a loop, it would give the entire ruse away. The only thing keeping Nicolas out of the hot seat was dead Kagan, and he intended to keep it that way.

  Nicolas had to end this himself.

  Under no circumstances are you to tell Zorian about me. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the archmage and I’m your servant.

  I wish to have clarity on your command, Kagan said. Are you instructing me to lie as a means of purifying my soul? Are you instructing me to deny the Barathosians the justice they rightly deserve to save your life and the life of your paramour?

  There’s a greater good to consider here.

  Precisely what I told Yotto when I killed him. When I pondered the consequences of creating the Great Barrier, I told myself there was a greater good
to consider. Those words rang in my mind once more when I sought to govern an ungovernable Council of Magi by distracting them with chaos in their homelands.

  It’s not even remotely the same thing.

  It was a greater good that forced my hand in Tildem, and again when I would have struck you down in the Sanctuary. So remember those words when a priest calls you from the grave. Remember to tell him you did everything for a greater good.

  Enough! Surrender to Zorian.

  Nicolas sent the command through the necromantic link in such a way Kagan couldn’t refuse. This was an order from priest to penitent with no recourse. No appeal.

  “Your words have moved me this day,” Kagan said. “I see now how deeply I hurt the Glorious One and her family. Not to mention her honor. I surrender willingly.”

  Zorian straightened his back. “Rumors of your sense of reason and logic were not exaggerated, Archmage. Your decision here will speak greatly in your defense when you stand before the Glorious One. But first, I must prepare for your transfer to the fleet. I’m afraid my Admiral didn’t have the forethought to consider you’d actually surrender. At least not so soon. I will need your traveling device, of course.”

  Crap! Didn’t think of that! Ask him to reconsider that!

  “Would you consider leaving the device in the hands of my servant?” Kagan asked. “The Council of Magi will need to be informed of my surrender so they can move forward with the succession.”

  Zorian looked at Nicolas.

  Come on! Say yes!

  “No,” Zorian said. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. The emperor will have word sent to the Pinnacle on your behalf once you’re both in a holding cell. But I need the device.”

  “I’ll give you the device, of course,” Kagan said. “But may I ask one more thing?”

  “Go on,” Zorian said.

  What are you doing?

  Saving your life, boy.

  “Look at the youthfulness of my servant,” Kagan said. “It should be obvious he wasn’t yet born when these events transpired. You have my peaceful surrender. You’ll have my translocation orb. Let my servant go. He merely attends to my mundane needs, nothing more.”

  If Nicolas hadn’t heard it with his own ears, he’d never believe Kagan capable of it.