Star Mage (Book 5) (11 page)

The idea of slaying necromancers by using their own undead as weapons against them pleased Nikulo in the strangest way possible. He’d often wondered whether the undead might fight harder or act with more brutality against their once cruel masters. They most certainly did. He watched one undead ripping an arm from a casting necromancer, while their drooling comrades sank their teeth deep into the Jiserian’s neck and feasted for a long while on their soft spine.

Nikulo could only imagine the horror and surprise of the necromancers as their undead chased after them in the library archives. He was certain that one necromancer must have looked at another, as if thinking,
Did you call them here?
And only to find themselves as fodder for the hungry undead. Nikulo had turned his head away in disgust, feeling bile creep up his throat at the sight of the undead ripping the necromancers into small mounds of bloody flesh. The remaining horde of undead burst out of the library and scrabbled around at the bloody bits, and slammed and punched each other in a wild feeding frenzy that Nikulo was unable to stop.

“I think we better get out of here and let them calm down.” Nikulo turned and trotted off north to where they’d encountered the sorcerers in the plaza. When they’d reached a safe distance, he glanced back and saw that the undead had returned to feed inside the library.
Until there is nothing left of the Jiserian necromancers
, thought Nikulo. And he’d be happy to also feed them the poisoned remains of the sorcerers. If he could only find where they’d gone.

When they arrived at the plaza, they were greeted by the other three groups, who came to them with expectant eyes, and were flanked by their decaying host of undead protectors. When a few of the undead seemed to catch a whiff of some tantalizing smell in the wind—no doubt from the necromancers’ blood—Nikulo commanded them to hide in the shadows of the northwestern part of the plaza.

“The City of Ursula is almost free,” Nikulo said, and gave them a bolstering look that only yielded a tepid response. “How many remaining sorcerers do you think are still alive?”

“I’m guessing three or four remain after the one you slew. Still too many.” Yarin tilted his head towards the west. “The sorcerers are known to enjoy the view of the sea. We can also trying stirring up a few other palaces that they’ve been known to occupy.” When the man said
stirring up,
Nikulo pictured the undead ravaging the bodies of the necromancers. Not a pretty scene.

“Lead on. The day is getting long and I have a ship to catch. If we don’t find the sorcerers before the long rays of afternoon, then you’ll have to battle the sorcerers by yourselves.” And a poor chance of success you’ll have, especially without a wizard or even a decent archer to shoot the sorcerers at range. Nikulo supposed that all the wizards and archers in their army were slain by the Jiserians.
Or imprisoned
, he thought, and wondered if that was where at least a few of the Jiserians might be lurking.

“I changed my mind. Take me to your prison, I assume you have one of those here in Ursula?”

Yarin gave him a quizzical look, but nodded and led them up north past the plaza, to an administrative building graced with tall, sleek pillars and a wide frieze displaying symbols of justice and balance and punishment. Likely this was the famous Ursulan Hall of Justice.

“Another building that we’ve been forbidden to enter. Most of the Jiserian soldiers and knights lived here, though by now I believe all have left and returned to the capitol.”

“We’ll need to be quite a bit more cautious here, as the undead have trouble distinguishing between the living.” Once they entered the building, Nikulo ordered the undead to protect the entrance, and signal a warning if any intruders came.

The vast, towering halls of marble and stone were empty, save for the sound of their shoes slapping against the floor. Giant statues of the gods stood watch, of Nyx and Nestria and Nacrea, and the hero Lord Heti of Calabastria, with a slain dragon under his feet. Here the cry of justice could be heard from the walls itself, with no answer forthcoming.

They strode behind an impressive looking entryway into what Yarin claimed was once the office of the justices, and their armed enforcing branch that meted out the proclaimed verdicts of the court. The offices were empty save for a few severely decomposed bodies, with little left to even interest the flies. Downstairs Yarin led them, until they found a stairwell down three flights, finally reaching a locked door. Nikulo still remembered the few lessons he’d been taught of fire magic, and he released a slithering flame into the lock, melting the mechanism until the door swung open.

“Go and see if any of the prisoners are still alive,” Nikulo said, and purposefully stayed behind to ensure that Yarin and the other men performed their duty as proper bait for any sorcerers like might be lurking inside the prison.

The prison was significantly larger than Nikulo would have expected, and he found row after row of mostly empty cells.
What are we doing in here?
he wondered, and was about to turn around and leave when he heard a shout come from the last row. He darted down the corridor and reached the cell where Yarin and a few other men pointed inside.

“Someone is still alive in here,” Yarin said, and Nikulo peered in through the cell bars to where an old, shriveled man stared at him from the corner.
 

“Master Holoron?” Nikulo exclaimed, and felt his heart thump in excitement at seeing his old Legends and History Master from Naru. He cast a quick burst of flame and melted the lock, and yanked open the door with Yarin’s help.
 

Master Holoron had once again closed his eyes in his sitting meditation, and only opened them when Nikulo handed the old man a water skin to sate his thirst. As one of the most senior of the Sej Elders, Master Holoron exuded a commanding presence that was felt by the men assembled around him.

“Young Master Nikulo, here to rescue me from my imprisonment?” Holoron allowed a faint smile to flicker across his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll have to help me out of here. Though I’ve managed to keep myself alive, the strength in my body has left me.”

Yarin glanced at Nikulo with disbelief in his eyes. “How did the old man survive?” he whispered to Nikulo. “All the other prisoners have died, most of them several days ago. This prison has been abandoned by the Jiserians and the remaining prisoners left for dead.”

“I may be old but I still have ears,” Master Holoron said, his voice still filled with the humor and vibrancy that Nikulo remembered him possessing. “As foolish a wizard as I am, I allowed myself to be captured by the Jiserians and imprisoned in a magically warded cell with little hope of escape. Though the air still contains water, it was barely enough for me to draw from and keep myself alive. Just carry me outside and let me feed from the sun, and then I shall be renewed.”

Yarin and another stout man helped carry Master Holoron up the stairs and outside to the front steps of the Hall of Justice, where the sunlight shone down from the western sky. The wizard let his mouth fall open and he breathed in the power of the sun through slow, deliberate breaths, and after each inhalation Nikulo could see the color and vitality return to the old man’s face. Soon Master Holoron had enough strength to raise his palms towards the shimmering orb in the sky, and Nikulo could see his hands glow golden and the light of the sun poured into his withered figure, until the whole of his body shone with a brilliant orange hue.
 

The other men shrank away from the Master’s shining shape, and only Nikulo stayed and marveled at the old man’s power, a power that Nikulo had no idea that he possessed. The memories he had of Master Holoron were of his stories of ancient legend and lore told in a dancing prose and a witty way that kept all his pupils in rapt attention. Never had Nikulo known or even suspected that Master Holoron was a powerful wizard in his own right.

“Ah, the blessed rays of the afternoon sun.” The old wizard’s face had turned ruddy and was restored to his former vital self. “It is good to feel the power of the Goddess Nacrea shine on my old form once again. I bet you thought that only Master Viridian and Talis knew of Light Magic, is that not so?” His eyes twinkled in mischievousness. “Master Viridian was the leader of the Order of the Dawn in name alone. Though I doubt he would have been so stupid as to allow himself to be tricked and imprisoned by Jiserian sorcerers.”

Master Holoron sighed and his eyes went wistful and sad. “How I miss old Viridian. Everything went to hell after he was slain.” The old man fixed his gaze on Nikulo. “Why in the name of the gods are you in Ursula? Last I heard, you and Talis and Mara had vanished and the Temple of the Sun destroyed by the Jiserians. We thought that you were all killed in the attack.”

“No, that old fox Palarian kidnapped Mara, and Talis cast a world portal spell and we followed her into Chandrix.”

At the old man’s befuddled face, Nikulo waved his hand with a reassuring gesture. “Tis a long story, Master, one that deserves time for the telling. The good news is Talis, Mara, and I returned safely to Naru around two weeks ago.”

“But isn’t Naru filled with undead? Last I heard before I left was that the necromancers had infected the citizens with their fiendish plague.”

“All healed by Talis’s spell. He has restored much of the city to its former glory—”

“Then what sends you here to Ursula so soon after you return?” Master Holoron’s eyes turned suspicious as he studied Nikulo with a ferocious intensity.

Nikulo felt trickles of sweat dart down under his armpits as he withered under the wizard’s gaze, until the old agony once again lanced his brain and the voices of the Naemarians filled his mind in feverish alarm.
The ship, the ship! Go to the docks and quickly board the ship!
The pain was suddenly fierce and the voices so irresistible that Nikulo found himself standing and stepping towards the docks.

“What in the name of the gods is compelling you to leave?” Master Viridian narrowed his eyes and Nikulo could feel a violent heat prickling under his scalp at the wizard’s magical examination. “Something powerful and ancient attacks your mind, young master Nikulo. Though it does not possess your body any longer, it somehow still influences your mind…and it injures your sanity.”

Leave, leave, you must leave at once!
screamed the voices in unison, and they drove the pain so strong across Nikulo’s brain that it caused him to collapse to the ground, a whorl of light and shadows twisting in his vision until the world went black and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Mara never felt the massive wave slam against her body and catapult her far back into the swarming sea. She never felt the icy rush of water singe her skin and pour into her lungs and sink her splayed figure down to a watery grave deep in the bottom of the sea. Instead of unconsciousness and death, she witnessed Talis rush to the ship’s prow and stand unyielding in the face of the magnificently destructive wave.

The wind was a wild, primordial beast, the very elemental disaster the poets had prophesied for the world many years ago. A deluge of water, a deluge of fire, a deluge of darkness demolishing all life across the land. And Mara gazed at the oft-named face of fury in the titanic wave and found the names insufficient for the insanity of its rage. It was beautiful and hideous and sweet in the song of its relentless pursuit of disintegration. Talis raised his palms in a kind of greeting, as if his hands were telling that terrible force,
I welcome and embrace you, and in that embrace I empower your eradication.

The shock of the force of power from Talis’s hands rippled in long arcs across the sea. The fifty-foot wave was vaporized into a fine, steamy mist that sizzled and boiled atop the churning sea. But the remaining swell still lifted the boat dangerously high, causing Talis and Mara to skid back along the deck, grasping for anything to stop their fall. Then as they crested the enormous wave, the deep valley below threatened to plummet the ship into obliteration.

Talis darted over to Mara and seized her wrist just as the ship dove down the swell, but they discovered that Master Goleth’s crystalline shield was high enough to keep the prow from being pulled under by the mauling waves.

“We should go below deck.” Mara had to shout for him to hear over the roar of the storm.

“Go ahead and be safe, I have to keep watch for more waves like the last one.” Talis stared through the torrential showers, studying the cresting and crashing waves. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Mara shivered under the cold rain and shook her head, determined not to leave him. Although she could see his eyes were angry and fearful, because she refused to go, she thought he looked relieved at the same time to have her stay with him.
 

They leaned against the ship and watched the waves rise and fall, and cuddled close as the boat pounded against the ocean. She felt her stomach twist and flip from the ship’s wild movement, and thought that at any second she might be sick.
Better to stay above deck and still breathe the crisp air,
she told herself. But instead of the thought steadying her she vomited off to the side and Talis held her hair back and she could feel the heat of his hand flow into her trembling body and warm her. His touch steadied her stomach and made the world clear again until she gasped in a huge inhalation and sensed that the ship had calmed somewhat.