Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (4 page)

None of it would matter, though. No navy on Erindor could survive a frontal assault against the armada. A small ship might have a chance to go undetected during a large battle, but the boarding party wouldn’t live long enough to set foot on the deck, much less make their way through the labyrinthine passageways and up to this outer walkway.

No, the admiral was safe in his command chamber. Safe from foreign enemies, at least. But more than a few Barathosians would like to see him dead.

Such was the reality of Barathosian politics. Those below wanted your power. Those above wanted to keep you from taking theirs.

The admiral had nothing to worry about from Zorian, though. Not directly. Zorian had greater ambitions than to command a few thousand ships, and the admiral might come in handy someday. First the Three Kingdoms had to be dealt with, though, and Zorian would do everything in his power to see it done. But he wouldn’t do this for the admiral, or from some imperial sense of retribution for a murder that took place before he was born.

No, Zorian would do this for the only reward that mattered. The only
title
that mattered—
Sian’jo
. A title that hadn’t been granted in centuries. It was given only to someone who fulfilled an
okotba
—a personal mission given by the Empress herself, upon which the very honor of Barathosia rested. Success would mean no one but the Glorious One could command him. He would rise above even the Great Houses. He would unify the temples for the Barathosian archmage against the
real
enemy—the growing chaos enveloping Barathosia, just as the god Arin had predicted.

Failure meant humiliation and a painful execution, of course. And that’s if he survived the mission.

But he would not fail. The Glorious One’s words echoed in his mind.

“Two of you I send,” the Glorious One said. “One I’ve sent to reclaim the honor of my family. But you, Zorian, always so proud of your cleverness. You I send to capture. If you’re so clever, bring me their archmage. But bring him to me in shackles of his own making. Make him stand before me of his own free will. Do so and the world shall bow before you and call you Sian’jo.
”

“
I will not fail you, Glorious One,
” Zorian had said.

“
It matters little to me which of you succeeds.
”

As the lieutenant slowed in front of him, Zorian focused on the task at hand.

The entrance to the command chamber was a simple wooden door with several sealable arrow slits and a tiny porthole. The porthole had been opened once the chimeramancers
chimeraported
the armada; it was a sign they were no longer in Barathosian waters.

As Zorian and the lieutenant approached the door, the walkway gave slightly under their weight.

The final defense
.

There was nothing beneath Zorian for more than twenty decks, and with the single pull of a rope in the command chamber, the walkway would fall open, dropping an invading force to their deaths.

Or drop a rival to an untimely
demise
, Zorian thought.

That wouldn’t be Zorian’s end, though. At least not yet. The admiral needed him. Zorian would go along with whatever plan Admiral Unega hatched, so long as it aligned with his ultimate goal.

Zorian walked a fine line. He had to remain competent, yet non-threatening. Tenacious, yet respectful.

The chamber door opened, allowing Zorian and the lieutenant to enter.

The command chamber was forty feet across and thirty deep, with walls that could be opened into extended decks for the admiral to have a commanding view of his armada. The fore and starboard decks were opened, providing a view of more than a thousand
Predator
-class warships spanning from the horizon over the fore deck to the horizon over the starboard. And that was but half the armada under Unega’s command.

Four signalers sat against the port wall, prepared to convey orders to the armada on the admiral’s behalf. Four brightly colored flags, one for each of the four fleets of the Armada, along with dozens of white flags—each painted with an elaborate symbol representing a command—rested against the aft wall.

Though the walls were open, no icy wind pierced the command chamber. The chimeramancers saw to that.

Admiral Unega sat on a simple stool in the far corner of the room, at the column between the fore and starboard decks. He hunched over a parchment on the small table in front of him, tapping the document with the bottom of an ivory figurine.

The admiral was out of uniform, which was strange, and his gray hair was mussed, as if he had been roused from bed and given no time to comb it. His sunken eyes and weary expression seconded that supposition. This must be an emergency meeting.

Vincen, an old chimeramancer, was present, as was Lucian, a
vivamancer
—something the Three Kingdoms magi called a
life magus
. Zorian understood Vincen’s presence, but Lucian had no purpose here. There were no pregnant women on board—a vivamancer’s stock in trade—and it was inconceivable that Admiral Unega would be trying to fulfill the empress’s original mission of cultural exchange.

But what if he was?

Zorian’s mind raced. If the admiral managed to succeed in not only bringing vengeance upon the Three Kingdoms by killing the archmage, but
also
fulfilling the empress’s decades-old mission—a mission said to originate with Arin himself—then the admiral might be the adversary the Glorious One warned Zorian about.

What is your purpose here, Lucian?

Zorian would have to keep his eyes on that one. Vivamancers were revered as holy in the Barathosian empire. If Lucian took it upon himself to declare Zorian an enemy, it would put an end to Zorian’s ambitions.

It might put an end to Zorian, for that matter.

“Mester Vincen,” Admiral Unega said. “I want the Fourth Navy off the coast of Religar by this evening, including the Fourth’s command ship. Can you and your brethren achieve this
and
maintain our current operations?”

“It won’t take all four of us, Admiral. One chimeramancer should suffice to keep our operatives moving. The rest of us will handle the Fourth.”

“Good,” Admiral Unega said. “I shouldn’t have to remind you how crucial our timing is, but I will anyway. You can resume your cartographic operations at the harbor when you return.”

“Understood.”

Admiral Unega stared at Zorian, but he remained as inscrutable as always.

“The Mester has…seen things in his dreams,” Admiral Unega said, picking the parchment up from the table as he stood. “He believes it’s time, and I agree.”

“As do I, Admiral,” Lucian said. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Zorian might not be able to read the admiral. But Lucian, on the other hand, was an open book. His presence on the Vengeance was by luck of the draw. There was nothing special about Lucian, and he knew it…and it ate away at him. Zorian could tell by the way he flaunted that cheap golden bracelet of office, and by how he reacted whenever someone mentioned his last assignment, which was a small temple in Barathos. There’d be a moment—an ever-so-fleeting reaction of embarrassment and shame. A humble temple priest would never amount to much. But a vivamancer who brought the true faith to the cowards? Now
that
was currency Lucian would be able to leverage at the court of the Diamond Throne.

It was all beginning to fall into place for Zorian. Perhaps this
was
about fulfilling the empress’s original mission. It might be difficult for the admiral to convince a high ranking vivamancer to risk his status on a gamble, but a priest with no future would jump at the chance to change his destiny.

“I’ve ordered a landing party formed,” Admiral Unega said. He thrust the document he was holding toward Zorian. “Read it.”

Emperor Relig,

The time has come to fulfill your oath.

Dobros Unega

Admiral of the Diamond Navy and Scourge of Yantoo

“Short and to the point, Admiral,” Zorian said. Yantoo…now
that
was a battle for the chroniclers. As a boy, Zorian was taught how the
fearless
Captain Unega
, in a final push to overcome the Talerion invasion, ordered his powder ships run aground and set alight. Stories said the resulting explosion was greater than ten orbs of power being destroyed at once. He enslaved the survivors of Yantoo, forced them to rebuild the city—complete with a statue of himself—and slaughtered the family of any woman who refused to come to his bed.

Unega could make a horrible enemy.

“Deliver it to the emperor,” Admiral Unega said. “If he refuses in any way, report back immediately.”

“If I may ask,” Zorian said. “What is the nature of his oath?”

Admiral Unega remained expressionless. How did the man do it? How was he the only person Zorian couldn’t read?

“The Emperor of Religar isn’t their archmage’s most devout follower for nothing,” Admiral Unega said. “Exploit that relationship. And when the opportunity presents itself, kill him.”

“The emperor?”

“The archmage! You think I’ve waited forty years to assassinate a backward potentate of a poverty stricken nation?”

Of course. Vengeance.

It was the very name of this ship. A name Admiral Unega had chosen himself.

And it was the very thing he swore to be an instrument of for the Glorious One.

“Of course not,” Zorian said. “When do I leave? I’ll need to gather some things.”

“Immediately. And one more thing.”

Something told Zorian he wasn’t going to like this.

“Lucian is going with you,” Admiral Unega said. “As is Lieutenant Belding. When you’ve dealt with the archmage, report back. Lucian will remain behind. He has
other
work to do.”

Lucian smiled at Zorian.

Zorian suppressed a small surge of anger. This confirmed his suspicions. The admiral intended to fulfill the empress’s old mission. He was Zorian’s adversary for the coveted title of Sian’jo.

“If I may, Admiral,” Zorian said. “Would it not be better to send a Mester with me? Perhaps Mester Vincen could employ his art to bring this mission some success?”

“The emperor employs the service of a
cognitomancer
,” Admiral Unega said.

“I’d rather bed down in a viper’s nest than go anywhere near one of those blue-robed demons,” Vincen said. His tone was incredulous.

A chimeramancer would never take that risk. The danger of a cognitomancer taking control of a chimeramancer was too great. Chimeramancers had the power to turn their dreams into reality, albeit temporarily. But a cognitomancer controlled a person directly. If the person being controlled was a chimeramancer…

“Of course,” Zorian said. He faced Lucian. “I’ll enjoy the conversation.” Zorian was tempted to mention Lucian’s
inconsequential
temple just to watch the man squirm, but he refrained. It would be childish and petty. And besides, he needed to keep Lucian on his side for now.

For now.

“Gather your things,” Admiral Unega said. “You may take your manservant with you. It wouldn’t do to have Lucian folding your clothes.”

Zorian nodded.

“And don’t return until the archmage is dead.”

Sorry, Admiral. But that is one thing I will not do. I have…other plans for him. If the Glorious One wants the archmage in shackles of his own creation, then I shall give him the tools he needs to forge them.

Zorian began the long trek back to his quarters.

CHAPTER THREE

¹
The Power, seeing his gift tainted by Chaos, cast his breath into the multiverse and created the great realms of Air, Ground, Fire, and Water.
²
His breath formed the air, his substance formed the ground, his spirit formed the fire, and his blood formed the water.

- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, attributed to the prophet Habakku

Origines Multiversi, Emergentiae 2:1-2