Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (47 page)

Aelron wanted to tell her that Nicolas was a kind man, as different from Kagan as a person could get, but there was a fire in her eyes that burned too hot for reason. And her apparent dislike of all things
Ardirian
didn’t put him in a good position either.

“Are you going to help me get information, or not?” Morrigan asked.

“He’s not going to talk,” Aelron said.

“Of course he will.”

“If you were him, would you give us any answers?” Aelron asked. “I’ve known you less than three hours, yet I’m fairly certain a torturer would be wearing your skin as armor and hair as a wig before you gave him so much as a name. And even then, it would be a fake one, wouldn’t it?”

Morrigan smirked.

“I find it hard to believe that
torture
is what this Sodality is all about,” Aelron said. “You’ve told me the Sodality is a sacred order. Is torture now within the purview of Religion?”

“Your question implies there was a time it
wasn’t
.” Morrigan looked away and took a step back. “What do you propose?”

“Do you still have the feather?”

“Of course.”

“Then we should—”

Bells tolled through the street outside the safe house. They were more numerous than before.

“Shealynd’s protuberant tits,” Morrigan said. “I thought you said the Barathosians were gone.”

“I saw them vanish with my own eyes.”

“The entire city is on alert now. Let’s go. There’s someone I need to warn before we leave the city.”

Morrigan ran for the door and Aelron followed her into the alley.

“Just use that speed trick of yours,” Aelron said. “I can catch up.”

“It doesn’t work that way. There’s a cost. And I may need it later.”

Halfway to the plaza, Morrigan turned left into a side street.

“There,” Morrigan said, pointing to a three-story sandstone building across the street.

The sign out front read
The Boring Jester
.

Aelron stopped behind her next to a corner building.

“We need to be fighting, not scouting,” Aelron said.

Morrigan’s expression grew serious. “A dear friend of mine is in danger. And
not
because of Barathosians.”

“I have friends in this too, remember? If you think I’m going to abandon them and hide in some ruined farmhouse with you, you need to think again.”

Shouts came from the cross street ahead.

Six Shandarian Rangers rode into view, spurring their bright-red adda-ki north at breakneck pace.

Aelron pressed his back flat against the corner building until the last of them rode out of sight.

Morrigan gave him a questioning look. “Afraid of rangers? Weren’t you one of them?”

It was clear she hadn’t seen how he’d arrived in Blackwood, prior to killing the magus. If he was going to be serious about the Sodality, maybe he should begin with a little trust.

“Forget about them,” Morrigan said. “Come.”

When Aelron caught up, Morrigan pushed one of the doors open and entered
The Boring Jester
.

“It’s important you let me do the talking,” Morrigan said.

Aelron nodded and they stepped inside.

The tavern’s common room was well lit from natural light pouring through expansive windows on two sides of the building. People huddled under the tables, and several gave a start when the next bell tolled. A portrait—depicting a court jester leaning against a wall and checking his fingernails—hung above a modest fireplace in the back of the room.

The matron, who was comforting one of her frightened customers, eyed Morrigan nervously.

“Something isn’t right here,” Morrigan said.

Aelron’s pulse quickened.

Four paces to the matron. A dozen people in the room. None visibly armed.

Morrigan strode over to the bar and knocked twice on the countertop. When the matron approached, Morrigan spoke. “I’ve stabled the adda, but it has a problem with one of its hooves.”

The matron’s eyes widened. “The farrier doesn’t live here anymore, miss.”

Morrigan looked away from the matron.

“I…I thought you knew,” the matron stammered.

Morrigan grabbed Aelron by the shoulder and nudged him toward the door.

“He finally did it,” Morrigan whispered. “The new Traveler finally did it.”

“The
who
did
what
?” Aelron asked as they stepped into the street.

“We have to leave Caspardis. Now!”

“Whoa! You haven’t told me what’s going on.”

Morrigan clenched her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them.

“Come.”

“Morrigan—”

“Let’s go!”

Morrigan started running toward the west gate and Aelron ran after her.

“What has you so shaken?” Aelron asked. “Who was that traveler you were talking about?”

“
The
Traveler,” Morrigan sad. “He’s…”

She stopped and faced Aelron as the next bell tolled.

“My handler…the
farrier
…is dead. Not just dead. Assassinated. By the Traveler—the head of the Sodality. If my handler was targeted, I’m next. And now that
you
are with
me
, you’re just as much a target as I am.”

It was too much for Aelron to process. A few hours ago he didn’t know the Sodality existed, and now he was a target by association.

“Why would the Sodality want you dead? You just
recruited
me into this festering organization!”

“Because I’m not one of them anymore!” She turned and started jogging toward the west gate, which came into view less than three hundred yards up the street.

Aelron followed, but he couldn’t help thinking about something she’d said earlier. She’d called him a
kindred spirit
, and now he understood why. It was more than the
craft
, or his
training
, or whatever innate ability she’d seen in him.

Like Aelron, she was on the outside of the group she’d most identified with for years. She’d lost her
family
, even if it wasn’t blood.

“Only a small group of people know the Traveler’s true identity,” Morrigan said. “We call them the Watchers.”

“They watch the Traveler?”

“They watch the
sky
. Not
literally
. Not anymore. I told you, the Sodality is ancient.”

Morrigan looked away for a moment.

“My handler uncovered a coup,” she said. “Since only the Watchers knew the Traveler’s identity, he went to his handler, knowing
that
handler would go to
his
, and so on, until eventually a Watcher would find out. But before he did, he showed me something. He showed me who was planning the coup. I know the identity of the new Traveler. Not by name, but I’d know him on sight. And
that’s
why he wants me dead.”

Another bell tolled, and a squad of Caspardis guards ran past.

Aelron picked up his pace toward the west gate, and Morrigan followed. When they entered the plaza with three fountains, Aelron stopped.

The large, circular merchant tent at the center of the plaza had been converted into a military command pavilion. But that wasn’t what stopped Aelron.

Looming over the west wall were six towers, each topped with two cannons and a squad of archers.

The wall was no longer defensible.

On the rightmost tower, four flags rested in stands along the rear, and a Barathosian soldier stood next to them. He retrieved a blue flag from its stand and waved it back and forth.

A series of loud
booms
reverberated through the plaza as the first volley of cannon rounds tore through the command tent and surrounding fountains.

Aelron leapt to the side as a piece of marble the size of a wagon wheel flew toward him. As he landed against a wall of a building, he caught a glimpse of Kaitlyn and Toridyn running from the city wall.

Toridyn must have fixed Kaitlyn’s sight.

Aelron glanced behind to check on Morrigan. She was leaning against the same building as he.

More cannon fire—dull, as if at a great distance—came from behind Aelron.

The city must be surrounded by these towers. We don’t stand a chance.

The flag bearer waved a red flag this time.

A second series of
booms
had Aelron and Morrigan covering their ears.

The west wall collapsed into a cloud of dust and debris.

“This is no good,” Morrigan said. “We need to retreat now.”

“I can’t.”

“If your friends were anywhere near this wall, they’re gone!”

“They’re not just my friends!”

Aelron faced Morrigan. “There’s something you need to know about me. And you’re not going to like it. The new archmage is my brother. He and his betrothed are in that mess somewhere. And so is Kagan. He’s dead, but he’s in there. He’s my brother’s penitent.”

Morrigan’s face was expressionless, and she glanced over Aelron’s shoulder.

Aelron looked back toward the plaza to see what had caught her attention.

The dust was settling, and the field beyond the west gate was a sea of Barathosian soldiers.

Morrigan placed a hand on Aelron’s shoulder. “Let’s take care of your family. But if there’s any chance of getting them out of this alive, I need you to do everything I say. Without question.”

Aelron nodded as the first wave of soldiers entered the city.

The battle for Caspardis had begun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

In the year 1018 BCE, Sajid Mukhtaar stepped over the threshold, becoming Sajid Lord Mukhtaar. Lord Mukhtaar added twenty-five covens to Clan Mukhtaar, which is a considerable number given the conflict between Clan Mukhtaar and Clan Davith. When the star fell from the sky, it struck the very desert where Mukhtaar and Davith priests battled one another.

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

It took several decades for me to decipher the meaning of that last sentence. I had an encounter in that very desert recently. I am now convinced it is speaking of the formation of the Oasis of Zarush, in the Religarian desert, on the road to Dar Rodon.

I don’t know how best to pass this knowledge on. Kagan is purging necromancy from the Three Kingdoms, and I have been banished. I am a pariah in my own land, hunted, as are all of my fellow priests.

What am I saying? Did I learn nothing from Father Dominic? There is hope. Shealynd’s prophecy will give me strength.

I shall begin by writing the story of my journey on the road to Dar Rodon. Perhaps future generations will glean something. I will include it as an appendix to the Mukhtaar Chronicles. I suspect it won’t be the last story to tell.

- Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 105 CE

Nicolas materialized on the shore of Lake Caspar, and the necromantic link he shared with Kagan grew more prominent in his mind.

As he finished materializing, the acrid odor of charred wood and burning pitch made him cough violently.

Waves of necropotency filled his well of power. There had to be an enormous amount of death nearby to pull that off.

As he turned to see the city, he grew cold.

The city of Caspardis was gone. In its place stood a field of ruins that spanned more than a mile to the west and north. The fortress was the only building still standing.

Nicolas dropped to his knees next to a dwarf tree.

Kait! God, no!

Siege towers ringed the burned-out ruins, and Barathosian soldiers came and went in small groups.

He looked toward the harbor. Ships sailed away from the city, but the few remaining in port were on fire and sinking rapidly.

Anger replaced terror, and a stinging pain formed in his palms.

He’d been clenching his fists.

Hours ago, he’d fantasized about leveling the city for the sake of justice or retribution. But the reality of the devastation made him ashamed of himself. There were families in those ruins.

Had anyone survived?

His anger grew as sporadic gunshots echoed through the ruins in the distance.