Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (65 page)

In the year 661 BCE, Hussein Bata stepped over the threshold, becoming Hussein Lord Mukhtaar Bata. In the first three years of his short twenty-one year reign, Lord Hussein survived fourteen assassination attempts at the hands of Catiatum assassins. He became a recluse, closing the Mukhtaar Estate to all but his own penitents. The circumstances of his death are unknown. His skeletal remains were discovered three years after his last known public appearance.

- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, Second Cycle, 10 CE

The few remaining writings of Lord Hussein implicate Clan Zerubula for the assassination attempts. For what it’s worth, they tried the same with Nuuan some forty years ago. The clan all but disintegrated after the failed attempt. Nuuan claims no knowledge of why this might be the case, though he did seem amused when I asked.

- Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 45 CE

Nicolas faced Zorian in the close confines of the tower’s base. A torch cast long shadows of the sparse furniture and filled the room with the acrid scent of pitch. Kaitlyn needed time to take control of the Barathosian chimeramancers. He’d have to do whatever he could to delay Zorian.

Tullias, Zorian’s servant, stood at the base of the stone staircase that wound its way up the outer wall of the tower.

“Saleem told you, I take it,” Nicolas said.

“I found it odd when Kagan didn’t bleed during his flogging,” Zorian said.

“I’m sure it was a dead giveaway.”

Another thunderclap, this one louder than the last, thumped Nicolas’s chest and vibrated his teeth.

“This will be over soon,” Zorian said. “The weather, that is.
You
are a different matter entirely.”

As if following Zorian’s command, the pace of the rain subsided to a slow drizzle.

“So, what happens now?” Nicolas asked.

“I told Kagan we would have two conversations. As far as I’m concerned, you and I have already had the first.”

“Hardly fair,” Nicolas said. “What if my answers are different?”

“A necromancer who disagrees with his penitent? You don’t take me for that much a fool, do you?

“You don’t know as much about necromancy as you think you do.”

Zorian nodded at Tullias, who ran up the stairs and disappeared through a trap door in the ceiling.

“I’ll concede that,” Zorian said. “I make no claims about my knowledge of the arcane. Come. Let’s take in some fresh air, you and I.”

The rain had stopped by the time Nicolas left the tower, though the rolling black clouds remained. He breathed in the smell of the thirsty desert as it drank in the remains of the downpour.

Dar Rodon gleamed below them where rays of sunlight broke through gaps in the clouds. It looked pristine from up here. On any other day it would have been quite beautiful. But not today. Not when thousands of enemy ships anchored in the bay.

Zorian walked past him, stepping over basketball-sized boulders and mud puddles as he strode toward the cliff overlooking the city. When he stopped in front of a short, foot-high retaining wall, he folded his arms and gazed down at Dar Rodon.

“I spent months on the command ship,” Zorian said. “Every day, I’d step out onto the deck and stare at this city. Just stare and admire it. The palace, with its whitewashed walls. The Temple of Arin, rising into the sky like a spire. Thousands of pilgrims making their way through the city—most of whom are in that very temple as we speak.”

Zorian faced Nicolas, his back to the city below.

“It’s not that different from our capital city
Barathos
,” Zorian said. “It
looks
much different, of course. We have no deserts in Barathosia, for one. Our buildings are magnificent. People walk among them on raised walkways of poured stone, illuminated by Builders’ gems. Some say the Builders themselves were Barathosian, given how many of our structures they created.”

“I’m sure it makes a beautiful post card,” Nicolas said.

“Our Temple of the Gods dwarfs your Temple of Arin. When the archmage—that is to say,
our
archmage—enters the sanctuary for the Incarnation Ceremony,
fifty
thousand
people await the words of Arin in the temple proper.”

Nicolas looked down at the city, toward the Temple of Arin. The temple’s whitewashed walls were all the more brilliant in the overcast atmosphere. Its entrance reminded Nicolas of the basilica of Saint Mary Major in Rome. Five alcoves set within the walls on the ground floor bore the weight of three cavernous arches on the floor above. But unlike Saint Mary Major, there were no statues on the top of the temple. And where the basilica had a tower, a dome rested instead, inlaid with gemstones that glistened whenever a stray shaft of sunlight would hit it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Zorian asked. “Fifteen hundred years old, I’m told. And no doubt filled with pilgrims. A throng of people—at least a thousand—arrived today from your
Oasis of Zarush
. Families praying together. Peaceful, devout people, who have no desire to engage in war. People who care nothing for the politics of this world or the machinations of thrones and archmages. All seeking shelter in that magnificent temple.”

“I know how they feel. I don’t care much for politics either.”

Zorian smiled and looked back at the temple.

“Many criticize men like you for possessing property of such value when there are poor to be fed,” Zorian said.

“I’ll hang a
for sale
sign on it next chance I get.”

Zorian waved his hand. “I’m not a critic, Archmage. We have many buildings such as that in Barathosia. And many far older. Buildings with impressive histories, for a person who has a mind to learn.”

“Are you selling me a time share or kidnapping me? You brought me here for a reason. How about we get to the point?”

“You murdered the heir to our empire, yet our vivamancers helped you still. They worked tirelessly to make sure your women still bore children, though there were few.”

“I know you’re not an idiot. You must know I had nothing to do with Yotto’s death.”

“Someone must pay the price.”

“If it weren’t for me, Kagan would still be the archmage. That barrier would still be up. I’d
like
to make this a better place. But I haven’t had much of a chance, with your plans for conquest, that is.”

“Not all of us come to conquer,” Zorian said. “I came to collect a debt of honor. Nothing more. When that debt has been paid, I will convince the others to leave the Three Kingdoms in peace. More than that, I’ll see to reopening diplomatic channels. We’ll establish trade agreements. Treaties. The Three Kingdoms will thrive like never before. Hunger, disease, homelessness, war…these evils will be a thing of the past for your people.”

Sure, once you enslave everyone. Emperor Relig had your number, that’s why he chose to bide his time.

“Who are you to make these promises?” Nicolas asked. “You told Kagan only a member of the Barathosian imperial family could speak on behalf of the empress.”

“Any authority I need will be granted when I return with you alive and well. You need not fear that.”

“So, you’re making deals based on power you
might
have in the future? Let’s knock off the crap for a minute. You and that admiral down there aren’t on the same side, are you?”

Zorian clenched a fist and released it. “There’s a greater conflict of which you’re unaware.”

“Then enlighten me. Because if we’re friends in this thing, you’re doing a
horrible
job of getting the point across.”

Something changed in the distance, just over Zorian’s right shoulder.

“Two powers collide in Barathosia,” Zorian said. “Chaos and order.”

Nicolas took a furtive glance at the harbor. Several of the warships vanished.

Keep at it, Kait!

“Your intuition serves you well,” Zorian said. “If Admiral Unega comes to power, he will destroy the Three Kingdoms. And no one will be able to stop him.”

“What do you mean,
come to power
?” Nicolas asked. “He already controls that armada, doesn’t he?”

“It’s not that simple. If I fail here, it will be left to the admiral to finish the task. And let there be no doubt that his victory will be swift and decisive. Every living person in that city behind me will suffer the same fate as those in your
Caspardis
.”

Caspardis. Nicolas remembered the shriller swarm that butchered the survivors. He’d never be able to unsee it.

He looked past Zorian to the city below.

Kaitlyn was down there. All because of Nicolas. After Arin and the other gods returned, he thought the worst was over. It was
his
idea to bring her back with him. The thought of her being torn apart by a shriller made him shut his eyes.

“The fate of Erindor will be determined by what happens here, in the Three Kingdoms,” Zorian said. “I offer you a chance to save not only
your
people, but countless others as well. Come with me.”

There was sincerity in Zorian’s voice.

But of
course
he’d sound sincere. He would say anything to outwit that admiral down there.

Nicolas opened his eyes and looked at the city once more.

“You said you weren’t going to force me to go with you,” Nicolas said. “So how does this play out when I say
no
?”

“You’ll leave me with no choice,” Zorian said. “I’ll hand Admiral Unega the very power I seek to withhold. And with it, the Three Kingdoms—and perhaps much of Barathosia—will cease to be.”

Several other ships vanished from view, but there were thousands in the armada.

Perhaps he should give Zorian a glimmer of hope. That might draw this out long enough for Kaitlyn to control the chimeramancers.

“And what if I say
yes
?” Nicolas asked.

Zorian offered a reluctant smile. “The situation here is much different from what I expected to find. I came here for Kagan, and instead I found his
son
in power. Given your role in the downfall of my nation’s most notorious enemy, I have no doubt the Glorious One will be merciful. I have been empowered to negotiate, should you return with me. Let’s discuss terms, shall we?”

Nicolas nodded. “I’m listening.”

Come on, Kait. I can’t stall him forever.

Kaitlyn turned her attention back to Mester Vincen, as Gabril slept on the mat next to the map table. She pressed her back against the corner of the building.

Manipulating Gabril had been easy, but Kaitlyn had no idea why. Chimeramancers had a natural tendency to sleep frequently, true. But without a teacher, her powers were mostly guesswork.

And her head buzzed every time she touched another person’s mind, regardless of whether she succeeded or failed.

Being able to sense the boundaries of her own mind—an amorphous cloud that surrounded her body—was disturbing. Every time her thoughts wandered, the cloud would shift and rotate—sometimes elongating, other times compressing—and a different portion of it would enter her head. Somehow, the memories or faculties she needed to complete a thought were stored outside her body.

That day she and Nicolas went to the Austin Zoo and rode the train? To the left, down near her feet. How she felt when Nicolas disappeared from his apartment? Behind her, near her right shoulder blade. Adding and subtracting numbers? A small patch of fog directly above her.

But the creep factor of sensing her
own
mind paled next to sensing someone
else’s
.

Whenever her mind would bump up against another’s, it was like trying to force the wrong side of two magnets together.

As far as she could tell, enchanting required overcoming that natural resistance and extending a portion of her mind into the other person’s mind, blending them together. Once inside, placing a thought into another person’s mind was a simple matter of forming an image in the regions that overlapped.

Saleem had told her this would only be possible if she
touched
the person whose mind she wished to enter. That might be true about
his
magic, but it wasn’t true about
hers
.