Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (23 page)

His worst fear was confirmed.

Hellstone!

The figurine had come from the sixth plane of Hell.

But how?

Certainly the god of hate was not a real entity? Sure, people invoked his name. Mujahid was guilty of that from time to time, though it was usually under blasphemous circumstances. But in all his time serving Kagan as Prime Warlock, no such being ever came forward during the Rite of Manifestation—the day on which the gods manifested in human form in the sanctuary. There had never been so much as a mention of Malvol’s name.

Whatever the state of Malvol’s existence, Mujahid wouldn’t solve the mystery here and now.

He cast the hellwraith’s presence forward into the hellstone and a void opened, surrounding the figurine. As the figurine fell into the void—a channel that would lead it straight to the
seventh
plane of Hell—Mujahid stepped back when he sensed the presence of another entity in the void. A malevolent entity. And it was trying to get out.

Every time he tried to force the entity back, horrible images would flood his vision; Nuuan being disemboweled by animate blades, the Pinnacle overrun by hellwraiths he couldn’t control. It was like an Awakening gone horribly wrong.

He released the necropotency and the void slammed shut with a thunderous
clap
.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Only a Mukhtaar Lord could open the seventh plane of Hell, and Mujahid was acquainted with every twisted intelligence on that plane. There weren’t many, to the credit of Zubuxo’s power and mercy. But this was something else. This wasn’t a soul undergoing the ultimate purge. This was a being of power.

Something far more sinister than the Barathosian invasion was at play here. But
what
?

As he took a step toward the pedestal, the Council bell rang.

Mujahid glanced toward the doorway leading back to the Great Hall and dismissed his penitent.

It was time to remind those bureaucrats why they feared him.

The Council magi barely noticed as Mujahid passed the double stone doors and strode across the oblong room to the raised black throne at its center. The shrill voices of men arguing rang throughout the stone room. Six months ago, he and Nicolas had personally all but destroyed the Council and deposed the archmage. Yet these newly elected jackals fought sanctimoniously over some petty political argument or another and didn’t even show him the respect of a head bow.

Mujahid climbed onto the dais next to the Obsidian throne and faced the Council.

“Quiet,” he said.

A couple of Religarian magi glanced up, but plunged right back into shouting at anyone who would listen.

This wouldn’t do at all.

When Mujahid stepped onto the platform, he leaned close to Tithian and whispered “grab onto something.”

Tithian had no idea what Mujahid was planning, but he had the sense to hold on to the Obsidian Throne.

Mujahid ignited the symbol of ascension and released a shock wave of necropotency into the atmosphere. As the necropotency passed through the hellwraith’s consciousness, a demonic wail followed the wave into the crowd.

Well that was new.

The chamber fell silent, but Mujahid maintained his hold on the necropotency and turned in a circle so all could see his face. One by one, the magi raised their right hands to cover their eyes.

“Do I have your undivided attention now?” Mujahid asked.

The room remained silent. The gathered magi stood still, as if the necropotency Mujahid released had pinned them in place.

“Answer me!” Mujahid yelled.

“Yes, Lord Mukhtaar!” The magi responded in unison.

Mujahid released the necropotency, but he allowed a few moments to pass before speaking.

“The light has passed,” Mujahid said.

“May it bless us in its passing,” the magi responded, then uncovered their eyes.

“Sit,” Mujahid said. “And listen.”

When the magi had finished taking their seats, Mujahid continued.

“Our way of life, and perhaps our very lives, are in grave danger,” Mujahid said. “Kagan was misguided, but the Great Barrier
did
serve one important purpose; it kept the Barathosians out.”

“Perhaps the holy archmage was right,” Magus Kaseem of Religar said.

“Holy?” Mujahid asked. “And how do you define
holy
, if I may ask?”

“He spoke with the gods, face to face.”

“I know devils who have spoken to the gods face to face. Are they holy?”

Magus Kaseem lowered his gaze.

“Would anyone else like to comment on Kagan’s holiness while we’re on the subject?” Mujahid asked. “No? Good. Because if I hear one more magus refer to Kagan as
holy
, I’ll take that person to every city in the Three Kingdoms and have them proclaim Kagan’s
sanctity
to those who suffered most at his hand. I suspect it will be a short trip from which I ultimately return
alone
.”

Tithian placed a hand on Mujahid’s arm.

Perhaps he
was
being too harsh on them. Most of these magi grew up knowing nothing else except Kagan and his infernal barrier. A year ago, many in this room would have been disgusted by Mujahid’s open practice of necromancy. And no doubt, some must still subscribe to the heresy Kagan taught them…that necromancy ran counter to Arin’s will and should be punished by death.

Mujahid took a deep breath and nodded at Tithian, who withdrew his arm.

“As I was saying,” Mujahid said. “Kagan got one thing right. The Barathosians are a threat. He conveniently left out the fact he was the cause of that threat, but it is what it is, and now we have to deal with it.”

“And how do you propose
dealing
with a fleet the size of which we’ve never seen before, Lord Mukhtaar?” a Religarian magus said.

Mujahid recognized her as Magus Yasmine from Dyr Rahal. He’d been acquainted with her grandmother in Dar Saricon.

“I don’t suppose you have any Mukhtaar
tricks
up your sleeve to handle a ship the size of a palace?” Magus Yasmine asked.

“What ship are you referring to? If you know something, give it voice.”

“The Barathosian flagship was spotted in the Bay of Relig,” Magus Yasmine said. “Even if we somehow manage to defeat
thousands
of armed naval vessels, that flagship is larger than the imperial palace itself.”

Could such a thing be possible? How could an object the size of a palace float? These sorts of questions often came down to the properties of matter, but Mujahid wasn’t a natural philosopher. And he certainly wasn’t a shipbuilder.

He waved her question away. “I don’t have an answer yet—”

The crowd erupted in derision and shouting. He was losing control.

“But I know this,” Mujahid said. “If we engage that fleet in battle, then we’ve already lost. Worse, that fleet isn’t the only threat the Three Kingdoms faces.”

Judging by their looks, he had their attention.

“Magus Kelley,” Mujahid said, facing the Tildem section. She was sitting in the front row. And by her expression, he gathered she bore the entire burden of the tragic news of King’s Bay. But not for long. “May I convey the news you brought to me and Prime Warlock Tithian?”

Magus Kelley nodded.

“Magi,” Mujahid said, sweeping his gaze around the room. “Credible reports indicate a terrible tragedy has occurred in Tildem. The Barathosians have destroyed King’s Bay, slaughtered every soul who lived within its walls, and now move north toward Rotham. For all we know, Rotham has already fallen.”

Mujahid’s last words echoed off the chamber walls and faded into silence. No one moved or spoke.

A sob from the Tildem section caught Mujahid’s attention. The strong facade that had kept Magus Kelley’s emotion in check had fallen. Magi nearby comforted her as best they could, but Mujahid knew better than to think the inconsolable could be consoled.

“And so I ask you,” Mujahid said. “Will you stand together, nation next to nation, and repel this threat from Tildem’s lands?”

The Tildem magi were politicians, but they did little to conceal the hope on their faces.

“They killed tens of thousands of people,” a Shandarian magus said.

“How do you repel a force that large?” Magus Kaseem asked.

“Lord Mukhtaar,” Magus Yasmine said. “You ask us to commit resources to assist Tildem when we have the bulk of the Barathosian armada sitting within a catapult’s reach of the emperor’s home. Who will assist us?”

“You have the largest military in the Three Kingdoms!” A Tildem magus shouted.

“A fact you’d do well to remember,” Magus Yasmine said.

“Now you threaten
us
?” the Shandarian magus said.

“
Us
, you say?” Magus Yasmine asked. “The Treaty of Three Banks is null and void. There is no
us
. Unless, of course, you have a secret alliance with Tildem of which we are unaware.”

This was exactly what Mujahid had feared. He’d allowed himself to hope, but he should have known better.

Magus Kelley stood and faced the Religarian section.

“‘From whom the gods give much, much shall be taken,’” Magus Kelley said.

“Try quoting the
Origines
to the Barathosians and see how much they
give
.” Magus Yasmine said.

Shouts of “
Blasphemy!
” intermingled with racial slurs hurled at the Religarians.

“Concede Arin’s Watch and East Bank to the emperor and we’ll consider some military support,” Magus Yasmine said.

Magus Kelley sank back into her chair.

“Maybe we’ll consider taking Dyr Agul,” a Shandarian magus said.

“You can try,” Magus Yasmine said. “And we’ll hold Agera within a fortnight. Caspardis within a month.”

Mujahid couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not in his worst cynical imaginings did he expect this.

“Your doom approaches, yet none of you see it,” Mujahid said.

“You have no power over the emperor, Lord Mukhtaar,” Magus Yasmine said. “You’ll not be able to force his hand.”

“The emperor,” Mujahid said. “A paper king in a field of fire.”

A Shandarian magus cheered, and Mujahid rounded on him.

“
You’re
backed against an ocean with an enemy approaching from two directions, and you cheer the defeat of your front line?” Mujahid asked. “Will Shandar defeat an enemy the combined forces of Tildem
and
Religar could not?”

“There are political realities you’re refusing to consider,” the Shandarian magus said.

It was more than Mujahid could take. If they refused to see their current reality, perhaps they’d respond to their
future
reality.

He called to the shadows scattered around the room, and they rushed toward him and cloaked him. With an expulsion of force that rocked Tithian backward, Mujahid’s body shifted and contorted, until he stood twice his previous height. His spectral form hovered over the Obsidian Throne. Liquid flame dripped down his back from his crown of fire, but the heat comforted rather than wounded, welling up from within like waves in an ocean of lava.

A silence came over the Council, and several Council magi bolted for the chamber doors. But Tithian’s seal was too strong for any but Mujahid to break.

Mujahid extended a spectral hand toward the center of the chamber, and a black vortex, blacker than the obsidian throne itself, opened like a tear in the atmosphere with the sound of ripping metal.

A rush of heat erupted from the black portal, carrying with it the agonizing screams of the damned.

Some of the magi covered their faces and backed away, but others didn’t move at all. The latter were too busy retching from the noxious odors.

“Destruction comes to the Three Kingdoms, and you tell me of
political realities
?” Mujahid shouted, his voice a choir of ten men combined. “
There
is your
political reality
! Look at it. Hear it. Smell it. For
many
in this room will see it again, and
soon
. The Barathosians show no mercy. And when you come into my realm, you will see me standing there pointing a spectral finger back to this moment in time. The moment when ants divided territory in front of an oncoming plow.”

Mujahid willed himself forward, hovering over the steps of the dais toward the portal. By traveling to the sixth plane of hell first, he wouldn’t need a translocation orb to reach Tildem.

The Three Kingdoms would fall. That much was clear. The only questions remaining were who could be saved and how quickly.

One thing was certain; he wouldn’t leave Donal to fend for himself in Tildem. Mujahid didn’t know what, if anything, could be done to turn the tide in Donal’s favor, but he had to do
something
.

“I go to Rotham,” Mujahid said as he reached the portal. “The rest of you, I’ll see in
hell
.”

Mujahid dove into the vortex, hoping he wasn’t too late.

CHAPTER TEN