Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles

by Nat Russo

“Our Temple of the Gods dwarfs your Temple of Arin. When the archmage—that is to say, our archmage—enters the sanctuary for the Incarnation Ceremony, fifty thousand people await the words of Arin in the temple proper.”

  Nicolas looked down at the city, toward the Temple of Arin. The temple’s whitewashed walls were all the more brilliant in the overcast atmosphere. Its entrance reminded Nicolas of the basilica of Saint Mary Major in Rome. Five alcoves set within the walls on the ground floor bore the weight of three cavernous arches on the floor above. But unlike Saint Mary Major, there were no statues on the top of the temple. And where the basilica had a tower, a dome rested instead, inlaid with gemstones that glistened whenever a stray shaft of sunlight would hit it.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Zorian asked. “Fifteen hundred years old, I’m told. And no doubt filled with pilgrims. A throng of people—at least a thousand—arrived today from your Oasis of Zarush. Families praying together. Peaceful, devout people, who have no desire to engage in war. People who care nothing for the politics of this world or the machinations of thrones and archmages. All seeking shelter in that magnificent temple.”

  “I know how they feel. I don’t care much for politics either.”

  Zorian smiled and looked back at the temple.

  “Many criticize men like you for possessing property of such value when there are poor to be fed,” Zorian said.

  “I’ll hang a for sale sign on it next chance I get.”

  Zorian waved his hand. “I’m not a critic, Archmage. We have many buildings such as that in Barathosia. And many far older. Buildings with impressive histories, for a person who has a mind to learn.”

  “Are you selling me a time share or kidnapping me? You brought me here for a reason. How about we get to the point?”

  “You murdered the heir to our empire, yet our vivamancers helped you still. They worked tirelessly to make sure your women still bore children, though there were few.”

  “I know you’re not an idiot. You must know I had nothing to do with Yotto’s death.”

  “Someone must pay the price.”

  “If it weren’t for me, Kagan would still be the archmage. That barrier would still be up. I’d like to make this a better place. But I haven’t had much of a chance, with your plans for conquest, that is.”

  “Not all of us come to conquer,” Zorian said. “I came to collect a debt of honor. Nothing more. When that debt has been paid, I will convince the others to leave the Three Kingdoms in peace. More than that, I’ll see to reopening diplomatic channels. We’ll establish trade agreements. Treaties. The Three Kingdoms will thrive like never before. Hunger, disease, homelessness, war…these evils will be a thing of the past for your people.”

  Sure, once you enslave everyone. Emperor Relig had your number, that’s why he chose to bide his time.

  “Who are you to make these promises?” Nicolas asked. “You told Kagan only a member of the Barathosian imperial family could speak on behalf of the empress.”

  “Any authority I need will be granted when I return with you alive and well. You need not fear that.”

  “So, you’re making deals based on power you might have in the future? Let’s knock off the crap for a minute. You and that admiral down there aren’t on the same side, are you?”

  Zorian clenched a fist and released it. “There’s a greater conflict of which you’re unaware.”

  “Then enlighten me. Because if we’re friends in this thing, you’re doing a horrible job of getting the point across.”

  Something changed in the distance, just over Zorian’s right shoulder.

  “Two powers collide in Barathosia,” Zorian said. “Chaos and order.”

  Nicolas took a furtive glance at the harbor. Several of the warships vanished.

  Keep at it, Kait!

  “Your intuition serves you well,” Zorian said. “If Admiral Unega comes to power, he will destroy the Three Kingdoms. And no one will be able to stop him.”

  “What do you mean, come to power?” Nicolas asked. “He already controls that armada, doesn’t he?”

  “It’s not that simple. If I fail here, it will be left to the admiral to finish the task. And let there be no doubt that his victory will be swift and decisive. Every living person in that city behind me will suffer the same fate as those in your Caspardis.”

  Caspardis. Nicolas remembered the shriller swarm that butchered the survivors. He’d never be able to unsee it.

  He looked past Zorian to the city below.

  Kaitlyn was down there. All because of Nicolas. After Arin and the other gods returned, he thought the worst was over. It was his idea to bring her back with him. The thought of her being torn apart by a shriller made him shut his eyes.

  “The fate of Erindor will be determined by what happens here, in the Three Kingdoms,” Zorian said. “I offer you a chance to save not only your people, but countless others as well. Come with me.”

  There was sincerity in Zorian’s voice.

  But of course he’d sound sincere. He would say anything to outwit that admiral down there.

  Nicolas opened his eyes and looked at the city once more.

  “You said you weren’t going to force me to go with you,” Nicolas said. “So how does this play out when I say no?”

  “You’ll leave me with no choice,” Zorian said. “I’ll hand Admiral Unega the very power I seek to withhold. And with it, the Three Kingdoms—and perhaps much of Barathosia—will cease to be.”

  Several other ships vanished from view, but there were thousands in the armada.

  Perhaps he should give Zorian a glimmer of hope. That might draw this out long enough for Kaitlyn to control the chimeramancers.

  “And what if I say yes?” Nicolas asked.

  Zorian offered a reluctant smile. “The situation here is much different from what I expected to find. I came here for Kagan, and instead I found his son in power. Given your role in the downfall of my nation’s most notorious enemy, I have no doubt the Glorious One will be merciful. I have been empowered to negotiate, should you return with me. Let’s discuss terms, shall we?”

  Nicolas nodded. “I’m listening.”

  Come on, Kait. I can’t stall him forever.

  Kaitlyn turned her attention back to Mester Vincen, as Gabril slept on the mat next to the map table. She pressed her back against the corner of the building.

  Manipulating Gabril had been easy, but Kaitlyn had no idea why. Chimeramancers had a natural tendency to sleep frequently, true. But without a teacher, her powers were mostly guesswork.

  And her head buzzed every time she touched another person’s mind, regardless of whether she succeeded or failed.

  Being able to sense the boundaries of her own mind—an amorphous cloud that surrounded her body—was disturbing. Every time her thoughts wandered, the cloud would shift and rotate—sometimes elongating, other times compressing—and a different portion of it would enter her head. Somehow, the memories or faculties she needed to complete a thought were stored outside her body.

  That day she and Nicolas went to the Austin Zoo and rode the train? To the left, down near her feet. How she felt when Nicolas disappeared from his apartment? Behind her, near her right shoulder blade. Adding and subtracting numbers? A small patch of fog directly above her.

  But the creep factor of sensing her own mind paled next to sensing someone else’s.

  Whenever her mind would bump up against another’s, it was like trying to force the wrong side of two magnets together.

  As far as she could tell, enchanting required overcoming that natural resistance and extending a portion of her mind into the other person’s mind, blending them together. Once inside, placing a thought into another person’s mind was a simple matter of forming an image in the regions that overlapped.

  Saleem had told her this would only be possible if she touched the person whose mind she wished to enter. That might be true about his magic, but it wasn’t true about hers.

  When her
mind entered Gabril’s—from more than a dozen yards away—she’d formed the intent of going to sleep, and Gabril carried it out.

  But now it was time to try something new; controlling a chimeramancer’s magic.

  Kaitlyn pushed against the boundary of her mind, extending it out ahead of her, until more of it overlapped Gabril’s. The more of her mind she could force into his, the easier it might be to control him.

  When his mind resisted, her natural instinct was to push harder. But she’d discovered in Caspardis that was the wrong approach. Pushing made the person unpredictable, as had happened with the cannon operator. All she’d wanted was for him and the others to step away from the cannons. But when the resistance in his mind grew, she forced it, picturing the strongest thing she could imagine—Godzilla. It was embarrassing when she thought of it, but she’d just been watching a marathon of seventies monster movies with Nicolas. Her imagination had been so powerful, however, that the poor canon operator thought he’d actually seen Godzilla! He destroyed the entire column of cannons as a result.

  No, overcoming the resistance wasn’t about pushing or struggling. It was about transformation. It was about making the portion of her mind inside the other person more tangible. More real. More…other. The more different the substance of her mind from the other person’s, the more easily she could overcome the resistance. The more easily she overcame the resistance, the more complete her control.

  Kaitlyn changed the boundary of her mind that touched Gabril’s, making it more dense. It entered his without further effort.

  When the absorption was complete, she reversed the process, allowing her mind to return to normal.

  The two minds locked together, and Gabril was hers.

  But she wasn’t sure if any of this would actually work. And her head was buzzing like she’d stuck her head in a beehive.

  Let’s start small and go from there.

  She looked out into the harbor and focused on a single warship. If she could somehow convince Gabril to move this ship, she ought to be able to repeat the process with the others.

  Kaitlyn imagined the ship vanishing.

  Nothing happened.

  Not exactly nothing. Nothing had happened with the ship. But Gabril’s mind was firing with activity, increasing the intensity of both the buzzing and the headache that followed.

  It was rejecting her image, like a nightmare recognized for what it was and shoved aside for happier dreams.

  Maybe her image needed more intent. More details.

  Those boats had to come from somewhere.

  Kaitlyn focused on the same ship. But this time, instead of simply imagining it disappearing, she imagined it was necessary for the ship to return to wherever it had come from.

  The warship faded from view, leaving a gap in the pattern of ships sailing around the larger one.

  Though she was excited for the success, celebrating it seemed too perverse.

  I hope I haven’t killed those people.

  But wherever they went, she needed to repeat that process with the rest of the ships. This time she’d focus on moving more than one at a time, though.

  She picked four ships and repeated the pattern.

  All four vanished.

  Her vision faded, but returned quickly. As long as she didn’t push too hard, she wouldn’t be temporarily blinded like the other times.

  Her heart raced. It was going better than she’d hoped.

  Let’s see how many more we can take care of!

  Kaitlyn focused on another group of ships, praying her luck would hold out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  In the year 450 BCE, Baladi Mukhtaar stepped over the threshold, becoming Baladi Lord Mukhtaar. Though he reigned in a time of peace, that peace was the result of compromise. Serving the greater good required the sacrifice of a few. The peace of his reign, however, is overshadowed by the rise of the Cult of Malvol in the years following his ascension.

  - The Mukhtaar Chronicles, Second Cycle, 10 CE

  Nicolas held out his arm as Zorian stepped over a large rock and started toward the tower. Part of him wanted to launch a bolt of necropotency at Zorian and be done with it. But Kaitlyn still hadn’t succeeded in getting rid of the armada. She needed more time. And as long he kept Zorian talking, that armada would stay put.

  “If you don’t mind,” Nicolas said, “I’d prefer to do this out here.”

  At least here I can keep my eye on those ships. Come on, Kait!

  Zorian shrugged. “If you prefer.”

  “First, I want to know what you meant when you said the fate of Erindor is at stake. What does the rest of the world have to do with this?”

  Zorian looked away and rested his foot on a basketball-sized boulder.

  Another ship disappeared from the bay in the distance over Zorian’s shoulder. After a few moments of silence, he faced Nicolas.

  “My archmage is a woman of singular wisdom,” Zorian said. “I’ve served her for years, and will hopefully do so for many more. Surely, you’ve sensed the growing darkness as much as she has. Surely, you’ve concluded the world cannot continue as it has.”

  “Imprisoning the gods in a barrier for forty years probably had something to do with it.”

  Zorian shook his head. “I thought so at first, myself. But my archmage is convinced this started long before your father did what he did.”

  “You seriously believe this darkness of yours will go away if I surrender?”

  “Of course not. But it will grant me the power I need to ensure others do what is right instead of what is convenient. And that will allow the archmage to do what she must.”

  Zorian glanced over his shoulder toward the bay. If he noticed the missing ships, he didn’t react to them.

  “I was once a naval officer,” Zorian said. “I resigned my commission when my admiral ordered me to sink a diplomatic vessel. A vessel that not only housed the diplomat, but his wife and children as well. So understand the depth of my anger, when I see two thousand predator-class warships, under the command of that very same admiral, poised to annihilate a city of more than a million non-combatants.”

  “Then this should end peacefully.”

  “Don’t mistake my peaceful nature for a lack of patriotism, Archmage.” Zorian pointed at the tower. “There’s a signal fire on the parapet of that tower. If I give the order, or if Tullias sees me fall,he will light it. The admiral will proceed with a military solution to this standoff. So, again I ask, will you do the right thing and come with me of your own free will?”

  Nicolas couldn’t strike Zorian down if he wanted to. The bastard had planned for that outcome.

  “You’d do that?” Nicolas asked. “You’d pull the trigger on a gun that kills a million people, out of a sense of patriotism?”

  Several ships vanished from the harbor, and Zorian began to face the cliff.

  “Wait,” Nicolas said.

  Zorian stopped, mid-turn.

  I can’t let this escalate. I have to distract him a little while longer for Kait.

  “This archmage of yours,” Nicolas said. “Tell me about her.”

  As Zorian responded, Nicolas chanced another glance at the harbor. Those ships weren’t vanishing fast enough. There’d be no way he could keep Zorian occupied for as long as it would take to get rid of the entire fleet. Not at the rate it was going.

  “Is it done the same way at your Pinnacle?” Zorian asked.

  Nicolas glanced back at Zorian twice before realizing the man had asked him a question.

  Zorian spun toward the harbor.

  “Clever,” Zorian said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I am disappointed. Tullias! Light the signal!”

  Nicolas sent a web of necropotency toward the parapet, hoping to stop Tullias before he lit the fire, but he only managed a glancing blow. It was enough to knock the man down and send the torch flying. Nicolas would have to—

  Pain erupted on the back of Nicolas’s head.

  Zorian had
backhanded him. But because of the uneven ground, he too had only managed a glancing blow.

  Nicolas formed a sharpened cylinder of necropotency and prepared to fire it at Zorian’s throat, but he stopped. There was something about this man. Something sincere. He’d left the military to avoid the unnecessary deaths of a handful of people. He implored Nicolas to come with him to avoid the destruction.

  Nicolas transformed the cylinder of necropotency into another web, and shot it toward Zorian. It wrapped around him and pressed his arms to his sides.

  And then dissipated into the center of his chest.

  Zorian clutched at something inside his tunic.

  “None of you would survive a day in Barathos,” Zorian said. His chest sagged as moisture pooled in his eyes. “What a fool I was to hope you would serve the greater good. Know this, Archmage. What happens here today happens because of you. You have destroyed Dar Rodon this day. You are the man who pulls the trigger, as you call it.”

  Nicolas had to think fast.

  Zorian might have protection from necropotency, but it was doubtful he had protection from rocks.

  Nicolas wrapped a rope of necropotency around a small boulder. With a mental heave, he yanked it sideways and struck Zorian on the side of the head.

  As Zorian fell to the ground, a wave of heat rose behind Nicolas.

  Nicolas spun to see an enormous fire blazing on the roof of the tower.

  A flag waved on the giant command ship in the distance, and activity erupted on the decks of the warships below. Portholes opened, and cannons the color of brass emerged from each of them.

  Clouds of smoke burst from the portholes as the first of the cannons fired into the city.

  The explosions reached his ears within moments of the cannons firing. Several buildings collapsed in the distance, and dust billowed up and out toward the harbor.

  I have to get to Kait!

  Nicolas bounded over the cliff and slid down the sharply angled hill until he reached the switchback. But rather than follow the path, he slid down the side of the hill once again, until finally he reached the road and bolted into the city.