by Cara Violet
Revenge against the Felrin, that put innocent men into Holom, that had murdered the Defeated King and set them back years, was what the Necromancers were eagerly waiting on … and they were relying on the Gorgon princess to ignite the process.
They wanted her dead, and Konrolic, despite his chance to kill her, knew they needed to be patient; erase her memory of Kan’Ging, allow her to transform and then execute her at her most vulnerable moment.
Clasping his staff down to walk along the beaten roads of hard dark clay, Arch Mage Konrolic regarded the city of Necromancers as he entered the outskirts. With nothing of Miry-like beauty or bluestone to build with, the dwellings of cobblestone, black mortar and wrought iron, constructed from the deep mines of Sile, were dull and bland in comparison to Layos. But as he passed the jet-black House of Swordsmanship and laid his eyes on the golden-shining, Silkri-worshipping Previle Temple, he could see what gold could do to the city if they had more of it in Sile. Pity it was the Giliou who had much of that reserve on their land.
Foggy steam was wafting through the atmosphere as he strode onward, the mines of Sile in the distance, excavating metals daily. The heat pressed against Konrolic’s skin, and his grey flesh tightened to protect him from the pollution.
Deep shades of charcoal mortar against black cobblestone greeted him as he neared the Sile Mansion and the air cleared. The King’s Mansion was a masterpiece, the craftsmanship of the blacksmiths and metalworkers had been extravagant; the charcoal pillars were huge, holding the black roof up around the building, including the four higher towers in the corners of the Mansion’s wings.
The Arch Mage paused and glanced up at a second storey window of the Mansion. He watched the Necromancer King, Elli Nermordis nod his head in his direction. Konrolic replied by nodding several times as other guards ran to him at the gate, then the King turned back inside.
The current King of the Necromancers, Elli Nermordis smiled back at his Arch Mage and fastened his scarlet robes with the necromancer seal tight against his skeletal-thin body as he pivoted back inside.
Konrolic had just given him confirmation. The King clutched his old, grey fingers around his gaunt grey face and pointy chin, recognising the foundations were now set for the most vital night of the Necromancers’ existence.
It had been one thousand years since the Necromancer King Warlowes reigned, one thousand years since the Silkri Drakes had thrived, and it had taken one thousand years to finally unveil the survival of the Silkri Drakes to the rest of the galaxy.
He ran his fingers through his thin grey hair and inhaled. The Silkri aura, unknown to the Felrin, had been handed down through the Nermordis line for the past thousand years. The ancient practice of manipulating the Siliou for power and control, lived on in him, Elli himself; and in the new Drake, his son. Amongst the several thousand Arch Mage, Prince Addi was an anomaly.
But not the only one.
Elli’s late brother had a son with Silkri ability, Prince Akki. And a girl was found with Silkri ability living in the city and stripped from her mother to be adopted into the royal family. Elli wanted to ensure Kydra was apt enough as a Drake to eventually marry his son.
He needed them to continue the line.
Elli sighed; his eyes saddened glancing over the portrait of his deceased wife, Oklenza Nermordis, to the left of him. Her limp black hair ruffled across a grey petite face and ruby red eyes, sitting plainly in a grey overcoat, generated a longing that tightened in the King’s chest. He missed her. She was so beautiful, he thought, to lose her during their son’s birth still haunted him.
A creak of a door and the patter of approaching footsteps broke him from the trance.
“My King.” General of the Necromancers, General Krivta neared him in a fast pace. “Arch Mage Konrolic has confirmed the Gorgon Princess has been stripped of her Kan’Ging aura and of Dersji Brikin. Our men have assembled in five regions around the Swamp Lands. The Layos entrances have been covered by covert Arch Mages. Our insight tells us the majority of the population are situated at the Manor for tonight’s ritual; our success should be heightened by an early assault.”
“Sit down, General Krivta.” Elli said in a remorseless tone and gulped.
General Krivta, in thick armour and red robes that hardly covered his masculine body yet complemented his red crooked nose and mouth, retreated to the seat next to the King’s lieutenant, Nake, whispering: “He must be anxious.”
Nake simply nodded in return. The bald, mute Nake had his tongue cut out by their previous King, Esri Nermordis, Elli’s late brother. He had been condemned several times for discoursing out of line and the shadowy scarred face and mutilated skin he was bearing told a bleak story of his many horrendous tortures for this disobedience.
The Necromancers scurried about in the Onyx Office being seated as Elli made his way to his black throne chair, next to the vacant gold chair that held no Queen. He sat and raised his hand, and instantly all chatter ceased. He took in the room. Framed hanging scriptures lined the dark walls next to his wife’s portrait—vital words of Necromancer attacks over the centuries, and several stained rectangle metal tables and backless stools ran down the narrow room full of eager Office members. Yes, grey-skinned assassins aplenty. Multiple red eyes gawking his way. He assessed each of the faces, families of Blackwood, Ironbark and closer to the Nermordis ancestry, the Skeletongrey’s. Most of them thicker and chubbier than the Nermordis lineage.
“My Onyx Office colleagues.” Elli began in his grunt-like tone. “We have finally arrived at this moment. It has been twelve years since Esri sent us to our deaths in Middle Forsda. But now we are strong enough to get into that Manor and kill the Rivalex Mark.” The cheering was louder as he continued. “The Rivalex prophecy, laying bare in the Hunted Gorge is our only hope to open Holom’s door and reset the universal order! The Pernicious are waiting for us to free them! It is time to take down the Felrin!”
Elli exhaled. Thick wrinkles and tired, baggy eyes possessed him as he sat there listening to the thunderous applause. Elli knew his time was coming. It would be up to his son, a practicing Silkri Drake, and the boy who indirectly killed his wife to take over ... wait ….
Elli frowned in confusion. “Where is my son? Where is Prince Addi?” He directed his question to the Nermordis family.
Esri’s wife, former Queen Darlia Nermordis grimaced viciously. Her bright red dress clung to her slight frame and the shadows under her rich black eye sockets deepened as she looked to him. Her hard features and animalistic black hair were in contrast to that of Oklenza, and caused Elli to disdain her all the more. “Your Majesty,” she bowed and stood, “Prince Addi has run off again. He told Princess Kydra he would rather be in battle than be subjected to an office full of stupidity.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” Darlia snapped, angry at his lack of change.
“Interesting …. Where are the boys now, Darlia? And I mean to ask, where is your boy, Akki? Because I can only see Princess Kydra sitting next to you.” Darlia glowered and turned to look at the empty seat next to her. She opened her mouth, glaring at her adopted daughter, Kydra. “Stop, Darlia,” Elli raised his hand. “No need to speak again. Fortunately, boys are all the same. We are a family that build the bricks to stick together in a strong race. If our boys believe their place is on the battlefield, then so be it. We have more important matters to discuss.”
“Here, here!” the Onyx Office agreed.
Darlia slouched in her seat and clawed her nails into her thighs.
“General Krivta, please report what you plan to undertake to spark the prophecy and help release the Holom Galaxy,” King Elli said, looking toward the General and gesturing him to take the floor.
Young Prince Addi of the Necromancers walked casually through the grasslands in the north of Sile. A distant echo reached his eyes.
“A-deeeee!”
Addi turned. Sprinting toward him, the moon gleaming against his grey skin, his younger cousin Akki rac
ed through the open plains of the lower Valley Woods. What was he doing here? Addi wanted to be on his own. He had a promise to fulfil, a girl to save, and he didn’t want to lie to Akki about it either.
“Why have you followed me?” Addi whisked his shoulder-length, dark grey hair behind his ear. “You’re becoming intolerable.”
Akki came to a stop, catching his breath. As usual, Akki stood shorter than Addi, in black tunic and steel armour that was scruffier and dirtier than it should be. He also had sweat dripping from his forehead and his boots were completely covered in mud.
“Did you fall in a puddle of filth? Where’s your robe?” Addi sighed and rested his hands on his sheathed black scabbard, shaking his head in jest. “Come on, what are you doing here then?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Akki retorted, his voice, like his red eyes, were rougher sounding and looking than Addi’s. “I’m not one of the Sile maidens swooning over you.”
“Well screaming my name like that, you could be.”
“Okay, Prince Addi,” Akki put on a face and high-pitched voice, and began acting like a girl, “your eyes glow so differently to any other Necromancers. You’re so tall, and that dark charcoal hair, why you’re so, what do they all say, handsome? Care to marry me?!”
“Shut up would you.” Addi tried not to snicker as Akki fawned, and stuck his fingers through his short light grey hair.
“I’ve drawn my conclusions, Addi.” The younger Nermordis prince went on. “Drawn them on a map, and these girls are infatuated with you, and want to marry you because … well, all lines point to King.”
Addi stayed silent. King, marriage, power, all of it made him queasy.
“You want it back then?” Addi questioned. “You want to be the heir?”
“I was only four years old when he died. Don’t speak to me about wanting to be an heir, I had no choice in it.”
And he was right. Addi knew when King Esri, Akki’s father died in the Battle of Middle Forsda against the Giliou twelve years ago, the line of King’s changed. Yes, they were both Nermordis boys, but because Akki was too young to lead, Elli stepped in as King and in turn, subjected Addi, his only son, to be the next in line for the throne.
“Aye,” Addi admitted, “you didn’t, but you always have me by your side, you know that … right now, dear cousin, our duty and obligations must be served in the infantry.”
“Aye, I agree.” Akki stated heroically, “as the only Drakes left, we need to be there. That is our duty. Is it not?” Addi smirked and subdued a snicker. “You mock me, cousin?”
“Oh no, how can I? You are like my brother, Akki. We are both out here breaking rules,” Addi laughed this time out loud. Aware that even though they were both Drakes, their skill with the Silkri aura still had a long way to go.
“After all I have gone through to be here to assist you in fighting these …” his face scrunched up in annoyance, “… these swamp rats?”
After a moment’s pause both boys burst out laughing.
“You Seevaar …” Addi wiped his eyes from laughter. “In all truthfulness, we are one and the same. We will both be a part of the new Sile governance.”
Akki’s face dropped. “Who’s the Seevaar now? It is you who will be dictator, Addi. Open your eyes.”
“The responsibility is shared amongst the party.” Addi defended. “You know that.”
“Don’t patronise me. It’s a collective—”
“Giving everyone what they deserve according to contribution.” Addi cut in.
Akki tilted his head looking confused. “You having doubts about what it is you do?”
Addi’s eyes glazed over and he clenched his hands into fists. Why did his cousin sound like his father? He wished he could object to the idea of doubts. Through all the schooling and research on the Sile governance, Silas Silkri …. perhaps feeling indifferent was his way of denouncing his forthcoming throne? By disagreeing with mandate? Doubting the very ideology of his upbringing?
Lessons on The Defeated King told him he needed to defend the Necromancer people from getting the raw end of the deal on Rivalex, from being able to have enough Felrin coin to feed the city of Sile. How the trade terms had ever worked Addi had no idea. The Necromancers hated that the Felrin had implemented currency and the Vernacular language as the galactic requirement.
As far as Addi was taught, he had to fight against everyone who threatened the Necromancer livelihood, and that even meant challenging the Felrin and their elected governance, and as his father had been planning for years, killing the girl with the Rivalex Mark to set the hostile Holom Galaxy free. Did he doubt this was the best way to do it though?
“No. I’m not having any doubts.”
“It’s based on needs, Addi.” Akki chimed in. “We are an authoritarian governance, you will control it, as the dictator, like your father, by providing people only what they need.”
And how well had that worked out for his father? The people didn’t have nearly enough to survive and the Sile Mansion an abundance. The only thing Elli Nermordis prided himself on was managing to develop three Silkri Drakes to take over. “That’s what I meant.” Addi said, hiding his nerves.
Akki frowned. “Do you think when we take over Rivalex we can mingle with the other races?”
Addi stared at Akki for a long moment acknowledging the optimism pouring out of him. “With a city to feed and the Sile governance to run when I’m King, mingling with the Gorgon or Giliou won’t necessarily be a priority, will it, Akki?”
Akki shrugged. “Do you believe in what it is we are fighting for?”
It was a question Addi did not want to answer. Confliction about what the Silkri stood for and what his father wanted him to do pressed heavy on his brain. “My father believes in it.”
“So did mine,” Akki said emotively. “And look where he is now.”
Addi laid his hand on his cousin’s back. “There are good points about what it is we do, Akki.”
“Aye, I know.” Akki pushed his cousin’s hand away. “I just want to be free to choose my own life.”
Addi creased his forehead. His cousin rarely opened up. Akki was the type to keep to himself. Introvert, they would call him. Rarely in the company of others, and scarcely with those who were, at best, liberal thinkers. Addi thought there was more to the introvert than he let on. “You sound like a bleeding Felrin.”
“Ha,” Akki laughed, trying to hide his upset. “That’s the third time you’ve undercut me tonight.”
“I’ve never heard so many words out your mouth.” Addi said dryly.
Akki brushed off his cousin with a wave of his hand. “You think the Felrin have it right though?” he said, “this whole elected Congress of Universal Order?”
If looks could kill Addi would have killed his cousin. “We don’t follow the Universal Order.” His words were crisp and final.
“But do you think we should?” Akki’s eyes were wide and full of hope.
“I—” Addi began but was shortly interrupted.
The two boys were startled by a jolting loud noise. Then cracks and bursts of red sparks set off against the sky, reigning down in front of them. Prince Addi sensed the Arch Mages’ momentum in the surrounding lands of the Layos Manor. An ambush underway.
“We must have faith in our state to know what is right and wrong for us,” Addi yelled over the sound.
“Like now?”
“Aye.” he confirmed. “We must be discreet, if we are to go unnoticed. Agreed?”
Akki looked up at him and then to the burning night sky. “Agreed.”
Addi led his cousin to the battle in a mixture of emotion; his orders, his feelings, his doubts, were all swimming in his mind like an illness. What did he need to do to feel okay about the future? Study more, perhaps? And was tonight going to be as significant as it was foretold? Something to be spoken about as a turning point in the Sile governance? He kept running and knew, there was only one way to find out.
Chapter S
ix: The Unexpected Visitors
Indistinct vision and irregular breathing overcame her.
Kaianan couldn’t believe her transformation was about to happen. A massive emerald veil spiralled around her. It was heavy. Fastened right to the hair above her forehead, she took her shaky hands and fiddled with the pins to improve her vision. It didn’t work. She dropped her hands and breathed out. The crowd had fallen silent and if Kaianan didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the place empty. They had her kneeling on a wooden centrepiece right in the middle of the room and right under the chandelier.
As usual, an aged Gorgon Cleric, in deep olive robes and hanging gold pendants relayed the founding words of the coming of age:
“The Gorgon colonised Layos one million years ago,” the Cleric began, “to live in peace and accordance alongside the Swamp Lands. Today our bodies morph to continue our survival in the terrain which has become our harmonious hub of sustenance. Today is about the written word. In the words of the prophecy:
“The irreconcilable differences of race will be brought to justice,
Solely by an offspring bearing the Rivalex Mark.
The people will equate and prevail in a new universal order.
By the stroke of bright light,
The sacrifice will be revealed.
On that day of reckoning,
Hidden no longer the cracks to Holom’s Door. BI.”
The Gorgon Cleric pressed on. Kaianan realised this was not the age recital she had heard time and time again. What he was chanting was specific to her, specific to the Rivalex Mark.
Anxiety gripped her; was it bad she had sweat dripping down her armpits? Everything she knew about her life had been leading up to this one moment. The training with Xandou and her old friends, her studies about the Defeated King and the words of the plaque. Her parents had been preparing her for this moment her whole life. They were all so supportive. Why now did she show concern? That the cleric still chanting above her made her cringe, that her breath blowing out against the veil was heavy and fearful. The blank faces around her were turning into the same fuzzy looking person; the same blurry face over and over again.
