Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (69 page)

A hellwraith? Here?

He’d seen these creatures before, when he’d accidentally transported himself to the Plane of Death. He’d watched as the hellwraiths came and dragged souls away from the Field of Judgment, to a place even Nicolas’s spirit guide had been afraid of.

The Seven Hells.

It shouldn’t be possible for one to be
here
.

But there was something different about this hellwraith.

The crown of fire. The others had no crown on their heads. They had no wings, either.

As the tips of the creature’s wings struck the boardwalk, they folded back upon themselves. The living shadow that had served as the creature’s cloak began to slough off smaller shadows, which struck the boardwalk and fled to the dark places along the harbor. The flaming crown flared out, and the fiery eyes changed from reddish-yellow to brilliant white.

When the transformation was complete, Mujahid stood before him, no more than fifty yards away.

But something was wrong.

Mujahid looked like someone had died.

Or was
about
to.

Mujahid emerged from the portal and spread his skeletal wings.

Nicolas stood before him, disbelief in his eyes.

That’s right. He’s never seen me like this. I should return to my proper form. It will make this conversation easier.

Loud screeching came from the bay. Mujahid focused his spectral vision. Thousands of small shrillers dove for the harbor from a couple hundred yards out.

Mujahid turned toward the sound of a woman crying out in pain.

Kaitlyn
.

She held her head as a Barathosian chimeramancer approached her.

Mujahid glanced at the shrillers.

They would swarm Nicolas and Kaitlyn in a matter of moments.

Kaitlyn stood more than a hundred yards away. But Nicolas stood only fifty.

My daughter!

All his instincts told him to fly toward Kaitlyn as quickly as possible and drag her to the relative safety of hell. But as he turned to do just that, Nuuan’s words rang in his mind.

Unless another Mukhtaar Lord ascends, Malvol will become a god. He will consume the power of the other gods and give birth to chaos of a magnitude you cannot comprehend.

If he saved Kaitlyn, Nicolas would die, and with him any chance of defeating Malvol.

If he saved Nicolas, Kaitlyn would die. He’d be responsible for his own daughter’s death. And Nicolas might never forgive him.

Mordryn might never forgive him.

Though he had no tears, nor eyes to cry them from, Mujahid wept. The silent, tearless, impotent weeping of a man weary of loss. A man who had known too much suffering in his life.

A man who had to make a choice he hoped the world would someday understand.

In order to communicate with Nicolas, Mujahid transformed as quickly as he could, scattering the shadow to the corners of the harbor.

“Nicolas!” he yelled. “Come! Through the portal with me!”

Nicolas darted toward Mujahid. “Get Kaitlyn! Behind you!”

The screeching shrillers drew closer.

Mujahid ran toward Nicolas.

“What are you doing?” Nicolas yelled. “Take
her
, not me!”

Mujahid extended his arms, and once again the shadows flew toward him, cloaking him in night. His skeletal wings extended, and the crown of flames ignited.

When the transformation was complete, Mujahid shot toward Nicolas.

“No!” Nicolas yelled.

When they collided, Mujahid grabbed Nicolas by the arm and flew toward the black vortex.

“Damn you!” Nicolas yelled.

Mujahid accelerated toward the portal, keeping his eyes off Kaitlyn. He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t dare.

The boardwalk passed beneath them. As they reached the portal, the shrillers swept over Kaitlyn and the chimeramancer.

Kaitlyn never stood a chance.

Dar Rodon never stood a chance.

Mujahid dragged Nicolas into the vortex, and viscous filth flowed around them, slimy and fetid.

When the portal closed behind him, and rotting limbs grasped at him from within the walls of the vortex, Mujahid closed his eyes and saw Kaitlyn’s face.

I’m so sorry.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

In the year 1 (BCE), Nuuan Mukhtaar stepped over the threshold, followed by his twin brother Mujahid, becoming Nuuan Lord Mukhtaar and Mujahid Lord Mukhtaar, respectively. The early part of their reign was fraught with conflict.

- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, Second Cycle, 35 CE

Incomplete Entry, written by Mujahid Lord Mukhtaar

Brother, I’m not certain what else to include for now. Excepting, of course, my work as Prime Warlock under Kagan and your overseeing the Catiatum coven. What would you have me write?

- M

Start with the truth. Fraught with conflict? Rubbish. If you want to reduce the Necromancer Wars and the unification of the clans to “was fraught with conflict”, I’ll not stop you. But is this a historical record or not? What of your prophecy? What of our acquisition of the Mukhtaar orb of power? What of my ale ranking system? On second thought, scratch the prophecy and the orb. Having a decent way to judge ale is a far greater contribution to Erindor than that other shite.

- Nuuan

Nicolas fell from the vortex and landed on a rust-colored, cobblestone path, surrounded by a fiery wasteland that stretched for miles in every direction.

The cobblestone howled when he stepped forward, so he jumped back.

Two more howls caused him to jump again, but the cries of pain never ceased. Every time he stepped or moved, something else would wail in torment.

He looked upward, hoping the portal was still open. He had to get back to the boardwalk! It wasn’t too late for Kaitlyn if he could just get back!

Sooty clouds soared overhead, raining ash and filth around him. But none of it touched him. The rain would strike a point several feet above the pathway, then slide down the surface of an invisible dome.

A deafening roar turned Nicolas’s spine to ice.

In the distance, thirteen massive, four-legged beasts, standing more than a hundred feet tall at the shoulder, guarded a white, stone wall twice their height. Flames blazed where eyes should be, and great leathery wings stretched out from their backs. Every step they took shook the ground, igniting more wails of agony. Two colossal chains extended from metal harnesses around each of the winged creatures’ necks, rising to unseen points in the dark, smoke-filled sky.

The cobblestone path wound its way forward, past the winged creatures, and ended at a gargantuan gate of iron bars. Beyond the bars, a monumental cube, obsidian black, rose into the ashen sky.

“Better just stand still for now,” a demonic voice said. It sounded like five people sharing the same mouth. “Everything in this place is made of…
someone
.”

Nicolas turned in time to see liquid shadow pouring off Nuuan’s robes. When the shadows hit the ground, they stood on ghostly legs of their own and ran away, cackling in high-pitched voices and bounding over the fiery landscape.

“Where the hell’s Mujahid?” Nicolas said. “He has to take me back.”

“I’m here,” Mujahid said, walking up from behind. “Is it done?”

“The bargain is struck,” Nuuan said. “But we should be quick about it.
Hasat’Tan
isn’t known for his benevolence. And…I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

Mujahid looked down and nodded.

“Did you hear me?” Nicolas said. “I said
take me back
!”

“The wards?” Mujahid asked.

“In place,” Nuuan said. “Though, probably unnecessary, given you brought only one.”

“May Arin grant we haven’t made a terrible mistake.”

“I just made a deal with the devil, brother. Of
course
it was a mistake. You may as well tell the cross-dressing postulant where he is. If your plan is going to work, you’re going to have to tell him a
lot
of things.”

“I don’t give a
damn
about any plans! You brought me here. You take me back. Now!”

Mujahid glanced at Nicolas and lowered his gaze.

“Welcome to the sixth plane of hell,” Mujahid said.

His voice nauseated Nicolas. The image of the mini-shrillers swarming Kaitlyn on the boardwalk returned. It was an image Nicolas would never forget.

“You left her,” Nicolas said.

“You’re the key to this,” Mujahid said.

“How could you? She’s defenseless! You could have taken her first while I fended them off!”

“The risk was too great.”

“You heartless bastard!”

Nicolas drew his arm back and leapt at Mujahid, but a rope of necropotency caught him mid-air and set him back down on the ground.

“That’ll be enough of that,” Nuuan said.

“You think I wanted to leave her there?” Mujahid said. “There was
no choice
.”

“There was
every
choice. But you left her behind. Why? What made her expendable? Was it because she’s not a
priest
like me? Because she’s not a member of the precious
clan
? She was everything! My past. My
future
!”

“She was my
daughter
.”

Nicolas gaped. He looked to Nuuan, expecting the twin to say it wasn’t true. But Nuuan nodded.

“We grew up together,” Nicolas said. “I talked about her all the time. I
introduced
you to her, and you said
nothing
.”

“I didn’t know,” Mujahid said. Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked away. Nuuan placed a hand on Mujahid’s shoulder and squeezed. “I felt the connection the moment I first laid eyes upon her. Later, when I was told the truth, it was as if all those years of absence meant nothing. If there was any way to save you both, I would have. But every path except one ended in your death. We can’t afford to lose you now.”

The winged creatures roared in the distance and stomped their massive feet, sending the stones under their claws into fits of wailing.

“Something ancient stirs in hell,” Mujahid said.

“Stranger, and more evil, than any of us considered possible,” Nuuan said.

“And it’s already reached out into the world, casting its influence far and wide. Tithian tells me you’ve encountered this already, Nicolas. In the form of a statuette.”

Mujahid and Nuuan recounted the story of the ancient Mukhtaar Lord rising from hell as
Malvol
, the god of hate. They told Nicolas about the strange
fog
around their symbols of power, and how Nuuan believed a
third
Mukhtaar Lord was the key to unlocking their full potential and defeating Malvol.

“That’s why I had to save
you
,” Mujahid said. “That’s why I had to sacrifice my own flesh and blood and risk our friendship as well.”

Nicolas ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his scalp along the way. He’d lost Kaitlyn twice in the last year, but at least the first time he’d had hope. The first time there had been a chance he’d find his way back to her.