Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (39 page)

His eyes refused to believe what was right before him.

“Hello, Mujahid,” Mordryn said. “It’s been a long time.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Orbs of power are among the rarest of rare objects of power in the multiverse. Rarer still are the molds in which they were forged. Oh the divine power they must contain! They are the very archetype of Orb of Power. The final state of perfection the Orb of Power strives to achieve, just as every other object in the multiverse strives toward its own incarnation of perfection.

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

Caspardis was the last place on Erindor Nicolas ever wanted to see again, but there it was, looming over him at the end of the road. Armored guards walked among flags of Caspardis—a cat’s eye on a red field—that flew at regular intervals along the crenelated, sandstone parapets. Something glinted in the shadow beneath the city’s arched sandstone entrance. The portcullis was down!

Why is the city still on lock down?

Kagan, who was pulling a hand-drawn wagon behind the group, had said it meant Caspardis was either keeping something in or keeping something out. Had the Barathosians tried to attack already?

A gust of cold wind brought the smell of the lake to Nicolas’s nose, and he suppressed a chill. If the sight of the Caspardis flag didn’t bring back bad memories, the smell of dead fish, slaughter houses, and tanneries certainly did.

The brisk wind carried with it the sound of voices.

Robert and Philomena were arguing with the gate guards, but the guards didn’t seem interested in opening that portcullis any time soon.

Nicolas would have to do something about that. There was little time to waste.

As he stepped forward, the statuette he’d found on the road poked into his leg, so he pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it. It was a happy little figurine, smiling and clasping its hands.

A lot happier than Caspardis should be
.

His mood grew dark, and he forgot why he’d taken a step.

I should level the city. I should summon another penitent, fight my way to the magistrate’s court, and slaughter everyone there.

It was less than they deserved. He wanted them to suffer. And the more he stared at the smiling figure the more pain he wanted them to feel.

He needed the gate opened. Wasn’t that reason enough to attack? To slaughter? To force them into submission the way they’d forced him? Maybe he should treat them the way the argram once treated humans…pulling their limbs off and—

Someone slapped the figurine from his hand. Aelron. His big brother.

“Hey!” Nicolas said. His mood improved, but he was still shocked by Aelron’s reaction.

“You’d have done the same if you were looking in a mirror,” Aelron said.

“What do you mean?”

“That look on your face,” Aelron said. “You were
snarling
. And it gets worse every time you touch that thing.”

Nicolas glanced at the figurine, which was laying in the dirt at his feet. Was it an object of power of some sort? Was he witnessing another case of something being
imbued
by an enchanter?

“The things I was thinking…they weren’t like me,” Nicolas said. “Whatever that statue is, I don’t think anyone should touch it for now.”

“It’s in the dirt. Maybe that’s where it should stay.”

“No. If it has the power to change someone’s personality, I can’t risk some innocent person finding it. Kagan, hand me Robert’s pack.”

Kagan lowered the wagon, retrieved Robert’s large green rucksack and handed it to Nicolas.

After some rummaging, Nicolas emptied the contents of a hide satchel into the pack and knelt over the figurine. With great care, he placed the open end of the satchel around the figurine and picked it up, tightening the satchel around it.

Just like cleaning up after Toby.

“I think this should do it,” Nicolas said. “If this was imbued, then maybe it doesn’t work unless someone’s touching it.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aelron said. “You’re the only decent person I know. If
you
change, I might as well just give up on humankind right now.”

Nicolas chuckled and started walking toward the gate. Aelron followed.

“There’s lots of decent people,” Nicolas said. “But decent people aren’t immune to doing bad things from time to time.”

“You excuse sin with such alacrity?”

Nicolas shrugged. “My dad taught me that things are different when you make an effort to look through someone else’s eyes.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him.”

It took Nicolas a moment to realize what Aelron was saying.

“Not Kagan,” Nicolas said. “My
adoptive
father. Back home. I’ll tell you about him some day.”

“Sounds like a decent man,” Aelron said.

Nicolas smiled.

His mood returned to normal after the brief exchange with Aelron. It was strange having a brother. Sure, their relationship had a long way to go, but they’d made a start. There was already an unspoken bond between them. He could feel it.

Nicolas looked at the gates of Caspardis again.

What happened to him there no longer mattered. He was the archmage now. If there was anything he could do to help them defend themselves, it was his duty to do so.

Kaitlyn approached with Toridyn, waving her arms as she spoke.

“They’re not letting us in,” Kaitlyn said. “Something about a hunt for an escaped prisoner.”

“They can’t open the gate and watch us enter?” Nicolas asked. “I don’t care if they search us, but we need to get in. Maybe this will help.”

Nicolas pulled his chain of office out of his robes and made sure it was visible.

A guard stood inside the portcullis, watching Robert and Philomena like an old man watching teenagers on his front lawn.

Nicolas marched up to the gate and faced the guard. He was young, not much older than Nicolas.

“We need to get these people into the city,” Nicolas said. “Quickly.”

“As I told the lady
and
the other two, the city’s closed,” the guard said. “Trust me, friend, you don’t want to enter. The Shandarian Rangers lost track of somebody.”

Aelron turned away from the wall.

“You’ll be safe if you go around the north side,” the guard said. “Marauders won’t come this close to the city.”

Nicolas held up his chain. “I really need you to open that gate.”

The guard glanced at the chain, then back at Nicolas. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

“Kind of what I was hoping,” Nicolas said.

“Sorry, mate.”

“Don’t suppose it would help if I told you I’m the archmage.”

“Something we seem to agree on.”

Nicolas stepped a few feet away from the gate, and Kaitlyn and Aelron joined him.

“Don’t you have other ways of opening that gate?” Aelron asked.

“I’m trying to
save
lives, not take them,” Nicolas said.

Nicolas shook his head. Isn’t that what Mujahid had tried to teach him right from the beginning? That’s why he’d gotten so upset when he’d had to banish his own friend because of Nicolas’s incompetence.

Wait! That’s it!

“Kait, that trick you pulled on me after you Awakened…Do you think you could repeat it? If the other guards think one of their
own
opened the gate for us, it’ll be less likely to turn into a fight.”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not entirely sure how I did it the first time. It just sort of came to me.”

“When I use my power,” Nicolas said, “I sometimes have to make images in my mind that represent what I want. Like metaphors, in a way. When I subdue a penitent, I create an image of a dog on a leash, or a prisoner in shackles, and it just…
works
.”

“I don’t remember doing anything like that last time. But I suppose I could try.”

Kaitlyn faced the guard behind the gate and Nicolas did the same.

The guard shook his head, rubbed his temple, and started
pulling
on the portcullis like a prisoner rattling a jail cell. There was no sensation of power emanating from Kaitlyn. No indication that she’d done anything at all.

“What in the six hells are you doing, Thomas?” a guard yelled from the wall. She disappeared for a moment and emerged next to the portcullis. She grabbed Thomas’s arm and started pulling him away from the gate, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t think that worked,” Kaitlyn said.

“What image did you create?” Nicolas asked.

“You’re
looking
at it.”

Maybe he’d given her bad advice. Was Kaitlyn’s magic somehow more
literal
than necromancy?

Thomas stepped away from the portcullis and disappeared behind the wall. The other guard followed, pulling at his arm. Thomas must have won the struggle, however, because the portcullis creaked then began to rise a moment later.

There had been no detectable flow of power. Whatever Kaitlyn was doing, it didn’t work like necropotency at
all
. But he could see the concentration on her face.

Nicolas hurried the refugees through the gate. He had no idea how long Kaitlyn could maintain her control over Thomas. Or how long it would take the other guard to stop him.

When the last of the group entered Caspardis, Nicolas followed.

The city’s west gate opened into a long, bustling plaza with three stone fountains forming a line down its center. It looked identical to the plaza he’d ridden through with the Rangers a year ago, but
that
plaza was on the other side of the city. Buildings of varying height, each one the same shade of sandstone as the city wall, towered over the fountains. Canvas tents of bright colors circled the center of the plaza, where people browsed merchants’ wares. A cacophony of flutes, each one playing a different tune than the last, echoed through the plaza and grated on Nicolas’s sense of good melody.

A wide boulevard opened across the plaza. And judging by the ominous circular fortress at the far end, he knew where it led; it was the fortress in which he’d been held prisoner.

“Hey!” The guard who had been struggling with Thomas ran toward them. “Turn around and walk out the way you came in!”

Nicolas stepped forward and she stopped, surprised.

“I’m Archmage Nicolas Murray. I’ll answer any questions you have, but these people are under my protection. Whomever you’re looking for, it’s not them.”

The guard glanced at Aelron, who turned away.

When she looked back at Nicolas, her gaze fell on his chain of office with wide eyes. She bowed at the waist and stammered.

“Archmage,” she said.

“We can’t leave that gate open for long,” Nicolas whispered to Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn nodded. A moment later, Thomas was lowering the portcullis.

When Thomas approached, Aelron pulled his hood up. Why was he acting so oddly?

“Who’s in command at the wall?” Nicolas asked.

“I am, Holy One,” the guard said. She bowed once more.

“Enough with the Holy…” Nicolas couldn’t finish the sentence. It was no use. He didn’t have time to correct everyone he spoke to. “And who are you?”

“Corporal Bennet,” she said.

“You’re in charge? You look my age.”

And the closer Nicolas looked, the more he wondered if any of these guards were older than he was. He’d learned enough about combat in the past year to know complacency when he saw it. These guards leaned against the crenelations on the wall, speaking casually with one another. Most of them weren’t even looking out at the surrounding countryside.

If Nicolas was able to breach the city’s defense with nothing more than Kaitlyn playing mind games with a guard, how much easier would the Barathosians have it?

“Corporal,” Nicolas said, “do you know about the Barathosians? Does that name mean anything to you?”

“My mother told me they were the reason the archmage Kagan made the Great Barrier in the sky.”

Her mother spoke the truth
, Kagan said.

Should I ask if her mother knew how many priests you had executed?