Rise of the Dead Prince (35 page)

“Have you lost your senses? Do you so easily forget what happened to our clan? To
me?”
he asked desperately, slowly approaching the pedestal. Suvira laughed again, shooing her father back as she
did.

“Don’t overreact, Father. I only mention one possibility. I could easily destroy him from here should I choose to. For now, however, I think it is time that I have a word with him,” she said, eyes glowing. Lovo shook his head, his arms
wide.

“He is not
worthy!
I warn you, Suvira. It is folly!” begged the old ghost emphatically. Suvira scoffed lig
htly.

“You would do well to remember your place, Father,” she said, gauntlet extended toward him, “As for his worthiness, that is mine to decide. And as for
you,
you will either be silent or begone.” Lovo returned to the outer edge of the pedestal, filled with dread. Here was his daughter, on the verge of the greatest necromantic triumph in recorded history, and yet she was making the same terrible mistake that he had. It was what had brought about his downfall and indeed the downfall of his entire clan. She was falling victim to
hubris,
and all he could do was watch. Suvira took a moment to look at Meier, and then her disapproving gaze returned to
Lovo.

“You were always a coward, Father. That’s why you were never meant for greatness. As for your mewling warnings, remember that I am the greatest necromancer that has ever been,” she said plainly. Suvira prepared herself for the spell that would cast her voice to where Meier was. “One way or another, I will have what I want from this orphan prince,” she said softly, as her eyes began grow br
ight.

45
A Dangerous Game

M
eier, Trent, and Dor strolled on through the wasteland, stepping through the still flaming puddles of burning anathema as they did. The exchange had been a success, but it had also been far too close for comfort. They did not discuss it, but all were thinking the same thing. If forced to face more of these things, perhaps even several at once, it could get very ugly. It was only minutes later that the glow came into view. In the distance, there was a source of pale light, a sort of green luminescence that evaporated the perpetual shadow they moved through. Though there was little sound, the mixture of true light added to the vibrations they saw gave a greater view, much like pieces of a multicolored puzzle, once completed around the edges, gave insight into the gaps left unsolved. That was how the men were able to see the base of the fortress from where they stood. It was only a shape to their eyes, jagged and sheer. In other words, it was the piece of the puzzle that was only visible as an absence of detectability. The rest of the world was filling in, leaving this place untouched. Meier halted momentarily then looked up into blackness. It was far too soon to tell, but it looked something like a tower. What horrors lay in store, he forced himself not to guess. Keeping to his character, he smirked contemptuously and, with a small shake of his head, resumed his aloof sau
nter.

Meanwhile, Dor and Trent were struggling to remain silent. What each man felt, he could not know if the other did or not. Neither dared to speak out at first, but eventually, the need became imperative. Meier somehow sensed the desperation without the use of magic or at least not any that he unders
tood.

“What are you two so antsy about?”
Meier asked, still halfway in character. This time, the two men exchanged glances briefly. Trent spoke f
irst.

“It feels like I got somethin’ in my guts, Meier. It ain’t painful, but it ain’t easy to ignore neither,”
he said, still ambling along. Dor was quick to agree. Meier had a quick an
swer.

“That’ll be the source, boys. Congratulations. Looks like you can use it after all. As for the feeling at your core, stop fighting it. Let it wash all the way through you. Once it does, you’ll be left with a tingling sensation all over. It’s not unpleasant.”
On they walked, and Dor and Trent suddenly felt what Meier was talking about. They felt a bounce in their step, as though the world had lightened, leaving them to compensate for the sudden imbalance. Meier had described the infusion as “not unpleasant,” but to Dor and Trent, this was a grievous understatement. In fact, were the situation not so grave, it could have easily been described as euphoric.
“Got it? Good. Now the trick is keeping it in check. We’re almost there.”
said Meier, almost coldly. Dor and Trent understood completely. The tension of the situation was unbelievably high. Each man focused on playing his part. They had a job t
o do.

As they came closer to the green glow, the shape of the tower began to come into focus. It seemed to bleed shadow from its surface like sinking vapor from a block of ice. Undoubtedly, it was this feature that had rendered it so featureless from a distance. Slowly they began to see the shapes of grand symmetrical shards that formed the base of the edifice. Things had been quiet since the destruction of the lone anathema, but the silence abruptly ended. The air seemed to warp around them, making a series of seething crackles as it did. The men stopped where they stood, each wondering if the end had come at last. Was this the spell that would destroy them? Meier’s eyes began to glow brightly. Perhaps it was impossible to counter such a spell, but he was resolved to at least
try.
His reverie was broken by the sound of an airy laugh that bounced all around them. It was a deep, clear laugh that only seemed marginally robbed of its tone despite the fact that it was clearly the dark v
oice.

“Was that a
spell
you were casting, dark magus?” asked the necromancer mockingly. The initial shock was enough to make Meier startle almost imperceptibly, but his mind suddenly raced back into character. He folded his arms and looked up at the tower, where the voice seemed stron
gest.

“What of it?”
rasped Meier in the dark voice. Again, she laughed down at
him.

“Such impertinence, especially from one who has not yet mastered the dark voice. Name one reason that I should not destroy you and your minions where you stand. Failure to do so adequately will result in the most obvious of outcomes.” The necromancer’s words echoed throughout the area. Meier’s mind raced. He needed to be perfection itself. It came to him with a light s
mile.

“We haven’t been introduced yet,”
he rasped. The necromancer sco
ffed.

“Pathetic. I ask for a reason and you respond with a shameless stall,” she said venomously. The air began to grow heavy around the three
men.

“On the contrary, Lady. I just gave my reason,”
responded Meier as casually as he could manage despite the encroaching shadows. In the moments that followed, Meier cursed himself. The shadows were closing in. He needed to think quickly. There was no spell he knew to stop what was happening. It was as Raven had warned. His eyes grew bright. He knew what he needed, but it was too late. It was at the last moment that the air was suddenly filled with dark laughter again. The weight of the shadows lessened and disappeared. Looking to Dor and Trent, he saw the two men on their knees, apparently in serious discomfort, but aside from this, they appeared undam
aged.

“Why did you halt, daughter?” asked Lovo from the edge of the platform. Suvira looked at him scornf
ully.

“I do as I please,” she said tersely. As the spell regressed, she found herself wondering about what spell he had been casting that time. Did he even know? She found herself smiling.
‘We haven’t been introduced yet?’
What a brazen lad he was! She wasn’t finished with him. She cast her voice
down.

“Your
…
reason
was mildly amusing, Prince Meier of Valahia,” she said, “but as I already know your name, and as you are not
worthy
to know mine, I will require another one. Quickly. Waiting irritates me.” Meier folded his arms again and smiled at the tower. He smirked, shaking his head, still very much playing his
role.

“
You ask for a reason
…
but the truth is in the telling, Lady,”
he rasped, lightly laughing. A low growl filled the
air.

“You try my patience,” she muttered bitterly. Meier’s eyes flashed brightly, and he pounded lightly on his chest, as though coug
hing.

“In that case, I shall explain,”
he rasped, but then in a sudden change, “or should I say it like this?” Meier made a throat-clearing sound. He had, quite suddenly and surprisingly, mastered the dark voice. There was a long sil
ence.

“You
hid
your voice? I wonder why,” she responded, hiding her interest with near success. Meier held his hands
wide.

“I hid nothing. I learned the voice from
you
, Lady
…
Thank you.”
said Meier with a bow. High on the platform, Suvira’s eyes grew wide. She looked at Lovo, who was looking on wide-eyed as
well.

“He
lies,”
muttered the old ghost dismissively. Suvira shook her head, eyebrow still ra
ised.

“No, Father, I don’t think he does,” she responded plainly. Lovo took a step for
ward.

“Destroy him,
Suvira!” he pleaded. Suvira merely held up her hand to silence him. She looked at Meier’s wry smile. He seemed to be politely waiting, clearly pleased with him
self.

“And just how did you manage that, Meier of Valahia? Answer quickly,” she said from all directions. Meier shrugged lightly and chuckled into the dark
ness.

“I was hoping you could tell
me
,” he said then folded his arms again. There was a silence that followed again, but Meier took the initiative. “As for my second reason and explanation for continued existence, it seems to me that if I am significant enough to be known to
you,
then it follows that my
…
condition is not an enigma to myself alone. Or I am I mistaken, Lady?” Meier felt a sudden pressure in his chest. Had he gone too far? Dor and Trent glanced sidelong at each other from their places behind Meier. It was a dangerous game indeed. The response came quickly enough, reinforcing their suspi
cion.

“You presume too much,
clever
boy!” she said angrily. “And you shall answer for it with your servants
…
whatever
they are.” The shadows began to crowd again. Meier’s eyes grew
wide.

“No!” he called out but then caught himself. “I mean to say
…
would it not be more
…
sporting
…
to pit them against your own? I’d wager that they are each easily worth
three
anathemas in combat. Would it not please you to test it?” There was another pause. Suddenly, the air was filled with the necromancer’s dark laughter a
gain.

“You betray yourself, Prince Meier! Was that
sentimentality
in your voice? How pitiful to think so highly of one’s underlings. You disappoint me
…
however
…
I accept your wager. It would suit me to see you witness their destruction at the hands of
true
anathemas. After all, it’s clear that you had no idea what you were doing when you made them. That’s what happens when a dark magus meddles in the art of his betters. Tell me this, Young Meier, just what were you thinking?” Meier felt a ray of hope for Dor and Trent. So she
was
interested in them. But how to res
pond?

“Well,” he said, his skeletal hand on his chin, “you are correct, of course. I had no idea what I was doing
…
nor am I sure I could do it again. I merely crafted them in the darkness, using the one template I had
…
myself.
I thought they were anathemas, but as it happens, they are something more.” Meier thought quickly. He risked a lie. “I have tried to repeat the process
…
with disastrous results. My
sentimentality,
if it could truly be called that, is based only in the fact that they are unique. As such, destroying them would be a waste. At least until I perfect the process for their reproduc
tion.”

Lovo stood in silent turmoil on the edge of the platform. “Suvira,” he rasped, but his daughter was too far gone to hear him. She was worlds away, deep in the darkness, trying to reconcile everything the orphan genius had said. Did he really expect to march to her tower unscathed? Despite the implausibility of the notion, that is
exactly
what he was doing. And what had he done so far? He had taken out an elite squadron of skeletons and one anathema. No, she decided, that was not nearly enough to truly impress her. He would have to do more. She would need to humble him. If he was destroyed, so be it. She was still the supreme entity in the world. Despite this, she was still conflicted. Some part of her wanted to do as her father begged, but this was only the voice of cowardly caution. If for no other reason, she dismissed it simply because he pleaded her for it. She was beyond such things. Why then did she even bother to keep Lovo’s company? Even Suvira did not know. From nowhere, she laughed. She did not bother to hide it from projection. Her eyes flashed as she turned her gaze to other corners of her estate momenta
rily.

“Very well, Prince Meier. Let us test your assumption. Each is
easily
worth three, you boasted? If that’s true, then let them each try
four.”
She laughed. Meier felt a wave of p
anic.

“Forgive me, my friends,”
he said in his mind, completely out of character. Dor and Trent smiled in the
dark.

“Ain’t that why we’re here?”
Dor lau
ghed.

“You said it, brother,”
answered Trent.
“You keep ticklin’ her fancy, Meier, and leave the rest to us!”
There was a grand round of rumbling that seemed to come from all directions, and indeed this was nearly the truth. As the lumbering forms began to move, Meier and the others came back to back instinctively. Looking around to the sounds and their sources, they detected not three, nor five, but
eight
approaching anathemas. So she was true to her word. More than this, they had somehow been surrounded without detecting it. Trent and Dor did not wait for orders to draw their weapons. As the images of the approaching monsters became clearer, it seemed they were all armed in a similar fashion to the first one they had faced. The anathemas marched in slowly but then stopped once they had created an eight-pointed star around the
men.

“Are you prepared, dark magus?” asked the necromancer. Meier folded his arms and, looking up to the tower, no
dded.

“Just one thing, Lady,” he said politely then smiled. “I’ve told them not to hold back.” A second passed, and the dark laughter came a
gain.

“Oh, have you, now? Then you’ll agree that it’s not necessary for you to interfere in any way. In other words, if you attack before your anathemas are defeated, I’ll destroy you all from here. After they fall, I wonder if your dark magus tricks will prevail you. We’ll see
…
” The anathemas began to march forward slowly, tightening the circle fur
ther.