A loud boom sounded, and then Basher was flying backward so fast, he disappeared. Kovax turned to see him recede into the distance, arms and legs extended in front of him, screaming, “Waaaaaa!”
The dwarf stood in the doorway as if nothing had happened, grinning like a child, dark eyes twinkling. Most of his teeth were missing, and the sight of that ruined mouth beneath those beady black eyes turned Kovax’s stomach.
“Coscoros,” Kovax said, glancing at the Acolyte but not really looking at him. “Go get Basher and come back.”
“Yes, sir.” Coscoros leaped over the edge, spread his black wings, and sailed away.
Leticia spoke while glaring at the dwarf.
“Just give me the order, sir,” she said, stinger rising at her side.
Kovax put up a hand to stop her. “Wait. This is a test. We’re supposed to get past this magician, but not by using strength or spells. He wants something.”
“You’re right, I do,” the dwarf said. He reached behind his back, pulled an apple out of nowhere that was bigger than his fist, and began to take noisy bites out of it. The crunching sound made Kovax grind his teeth.
“What do you want?”
The dwarf snapped two fingers of his left hand, and the apple, which had been in his right hand, disappeared. He swallowed what was in his mouth, blinked a few times, and stepped out of the shack and into the patch of yellow light slanting across the dirt. His black eyes took on a more sinister look.
“My master would like you to prove yourself, Kovax. He wants to see if you still have it in you to be a great man. These last few years, you’ve been nothing but a disappointment.”
Kovax stiffened. He didn’t want the dwarf to see how upset he’d become, so he stared at him and said nothing.
Leticia watched from the shadows near the mountain wall. He could sense that she was alarmed.
“But we understand,” the dwarf said. “You’re old, and your wife and child are in suspension. You want to save them, but you don’t know how. You’re afraid that once you wake them up, your wife won’t recognize the old husk standing before her. We understand, Kovax. We understand.”
With great effort, Kovax kept himself from baring his teeth.
“Let me speak with Iolus,” he said in a gruff voice.
The dwarf took a step forward, out of the patch of light and into shadow. He looked up at Kovax.
“You’ll get your wishes. Every single one. But first, a test. Next to the shack is buried the body of a man who came here to challenge my master. He was a powerful magician like yourself, someone who had read all the books and knew all the formulas. He insulted my master and then challenged him to a duel. My master won, of course, but he was upset, for this so-called magician had spoiled his evening. Now, my master would like you to make a slave of this man.”
Kovax felt a slithering sensation against the walls of his stomach. “What kind of slave?”
“You know which kind.” The dwarf tilted his lumpy head and peered at Kovax through one eye.
“I gave up that life a long time ago,” Kovax said.
He was shivering now. He could hear the moans in his ears, those ghastly moans from all the souls he’d brought back to this world to do his bidding—all the dead husks he had summoned in order to become a full necromancer.
“Go back down the road from which you came, then,” the dwarf said. “For Iolus has no time for weaklings and has-beens.”
“How dare you…” Kovax balled his hands into fists. “I’m the emperor’s magician, damn you.”
The dwarf turned, hands joined behind him, and started toward the cabin with his head down in deep disappointment. Kovax could hear him sighing.
“Fine,” Kovax said. “But in return, I want Iolus’s word that he’ll work for me. I need him for a special job—a simple one. I’ll give him enough gold to last ten human lifetimes if he can complete it.” Kovax looked at the shack’s eroded face. “He looks like he can use the wealth.”
“And what makes you think my master is a mercenary?”
Kovax held back laughter. “He’s certainly not a soldier anymore.”
“The necromancer speaks true,” the dwarf said, not turning around. Instead he lowered his head as if sinking further into thought.
“This is a trick,” Kovax said. “It’s you, isn’t it? Come, Sorcerer. Speak to me using your true form.”
“That is his true form,” came a thin, malicious voice. “And you know as well as I do sorcerers can’t shapeshift.”
The voice had come from behind Kovax, above his left ear. He spun around and faced the tall, gaunt man.
Leticia drew her breath in a hiss before sprinting forward, tail ready to strike.
Iolus, in a single, calm sweep, lifted his left arm and flicked the hand open. A jagged, white-hot bolt of energy leaped from his open palm. Leticia swung her tail at the very last second, absorbing the spell fully, though it caused her to fall to one knee with a grunt. Her tail crackled with bright lines of energy that disappeared after a moment. She scowled at Iolus, looking slightly amused.
“I know all your tricks, Sorcerer,” she said, standing.
“We’ll see about that,” Iolus said, his hand brightening with another spell.
“Wait,” Kovax said. “We’re friendly.”
“Is that right?” Iolus smiled, and his lips were a long, curved sickle of discolored flesh. His once-radiant red hair was now stringy and oily, as though he had not washed it in years. There were dark spots beneath his eyes and cheekbones. He looked malnourished and sick, and the brown cloak he wore was as thin as tissue paper.
“You want me,” Iolus said, “but you know I despise you with all my rotten heart. This means you have something I desire very much. What is it—and make it quick.”
Kovax studied the sorcerer. “You look terrible. What have you been eating? Rocks?”
“Your friends are coming.” Iolus tilted his head back and sniffed the air. “I can smell the Berserker from here.”
Kovax looked out over the trees and saw a tiny shape growing in the distance. It was Basher, hanging from Coscoros’s foot, as the latter flew them both back to the ledge.
“Now we negotiate, Necromancer,” Iolus said in his papery voice.
“I’m not a necromancer anymore, Iolus. You know that. I left the order…”
“The order kicked you out, and if I know you, Kovax, you haven’t fully abandoned the low art. It was your passion.” Iolus narrowed his eyes, which were set far apart on his thin and sallow face. “You never forgot how addictive it is to have that kind of power over death—to make slaves of your fallen enemies. And yet you feel guilty after what happened to your wife and son. You miscast the spell, didn’t you? And they happened to be in the next room, weren’t they? It’s ironic, actually. You were too powerful for your own good. Not even a stone wall could deflect the spell. And we all know what happens when you cast a necromantic spell on a living person.”
Kovax melted away beneath the sorcerer’s gaze. He brought one hand up to his right temple. A migraine was coming on.
The screams of his wife and son rang in his ears.
“If you want my help,” Iolus said. “You have to prove to me that you’re serious. You have to break your oath and do what you do best.”
“But—but you don’t know why I’m here. It’s about Maximus, about his chil—”
“Don’t say another word. You do this, or you go back to your castle. Or I put you out of your misery. Your choice, Necromancer.”
There was a flapping sound in the distance. Coscoros and Basher were coming closer.
“Sir,” Leticia said, facing Kovax. “Is it true? That you were a Dark Brother?”
“I was, but”—he gave a curt sigh—“it appears I’m coming out of retirement.”
Coscoros and Basher arrived. Coscoros dropped the Berserker, who wore a fear-stricken look. “What did I miss?”
“Just stay back,” Kovax said.
Basher s
aw Iolus and froze. Iolus grinned at him, then walked a few feet away to a patch of dirt that looked a little higher than the surrounding area.
“Here he is.”
Kovax studied the patch of raised earth. The wind cooled the sweat on his forehead.
“Begin,” Iolus said.
“I—I need time to prepare.”
“Come on, low mage. I’ve seen what you can do. Why hide your talent? Is it because of what happened to your wife and son? Or are you just afraid that you’re no longer the man—”
“Enough,” Kovax said through clenched teeth.
Violet light flashed off his palm and fell, sparkling, to the ground. The sparks turned into small clouds of stinging flies. They rose and attacked Basher, who swung his arms wildly to keep them away.
The flies avoided Iolus. He smiled at Kovax, his face half-hidden in the shadows.
“Marvelous. That’s the magician I remember. Now, summon.”
“You know I need blood ether to do that.”
“Use him.” Iolus tipped his head to indicate the dwarf.
“M-master?” The dwarf’s eyes flew open.
Kovax didn’t hesitate. If the dwarf teleported or flew away, Iolus might force him to use one of his own men instead.
He reversed his staff, Duo, and pointed the red crystal at the dwarf.
It only took a minute, and it felt as satisfying as it always had. The dwarf disintegrated into a cloud of red particles which then entered the blood crystal, making it glow a bright, hellish red.
“That’s how we do it,” Iolus said, grinning and showing yellow teeth.
With newfound confidence, Kovax focused on the raised patch of dirt and began to chant. His voice sounded ancient and thin, as if the shadows were speaking through him.
“Blood ether, dark of deepest dread, gather thy storms inside my head. Allow me to summon thy resting dead.”
Coils of red light twisted around the blood crystal. He repeated the lines over and over, the light building, brightening.
“…Allow me to summon thy resting dead!”
A wriggling tube of red energy wormed its way out of the blood crystal. It glistened, resembling intestines—uncoiled, stretched, and lit from within by fire. It was bright enough to splash reddish light against the mountainside. With a horrible sizzling sound, it dove into the patch of dirt.
It dropped from the crystal with a horrifying, animal squeal and wriggled through the packed soil.
“You didn’t—bury him deep—did you?” Kovax said, panting. The dwarf magician was nothing more than an oddly shaped skull resting atop a pile of bones now.
Iolus clapped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, looking around at nothing, “it seems we have company.”
A tremor ran through the ledge, maybe through the entire mountain itself. Tiny rocks danced on the ground. Kovax and his soldiers stepped back.
Dirt particles were swept away in all directions, leaving a blackened corpse that lay on its side in the fetal position. One foot was bare. On the other was a torn, ruined boot. His pants and shirt had been reduced to burnt rags. His face resembled a mask someone had patched together using black strips of cloth. He’d been roasted alive.
Basher’s gray face blanched. Coscoros frowned at the corpse and kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. Leticia’s stinger hovered in front of her waist, pointed forward like a knife ready to stab and slash. A small marble of green poison swelled at its tip.
“What’s his name?” Kovax said.
Iolus rubbed his hands together. “Farranos.”
Kovax gathered his cloak about his frail body. He spoke in a low, grating rasp.
“Farranos, wake up!”
The dead man rolled to his left, got on his hands and knees, and then, with a sound like a deck of cards being shuffled, pushed himself up into a bent, standing position, arms dangling from his bloody shoulders.
Farranos opened his eyes and looked at Kovax.
“Mmmmwoooooorr,” he moaned, eyes so white against the blackened skin of his face. His jaw clicked into place and he moaned once more, sounding more human this time. “Mmmwhyyyy?” And then he screamed through his cracked lips. “WHYYYYYYY?”
“Be still,” Kovax said, lifting a hand and pointing at the zombie. “You’ll do as I say, Risen One. I am the one who summoned you.”
Basher and Coscoros took several steps back in fear. Iolus grinned at them, his eyebrows bent into a V.
“Everyone, calm down,” Kovax said. “It’s under my command.”
“A Risen One,” Leticia said. “They can’t be killed by blades or—or poison.”
Basher sat against the mountainside and stared down at the ground, looking like he wanted to vomit. Coscoros sheathed his sword and stepped back into the shadows, almost tripping over the bones of the dwarf magician.
“Ugh,” he said in disgust.
Iolus studied the Risen One with a look of pride.
“End it,” he said, and looked at Kovax.
Kovax gave a single nod. “Turn around and face the forest,” he told Farranos, hugging himself as a result of the temperature, which had dropped suddenly—a side effect of low magic. It made everything around the spell cold.
“This isn’t right,” Leticia said. “This is illegal.”
“Not when I make the laws in this country,” Kovax said. “Now keep quiet.”
Iolus chuckled. “Well said, Necromancer.”
The sorcerer approached Leticia and examined her as if she were a cockroach backed up against a wall, a bug he was about to squash. He snickered as he slid his gaze up and down the length of her body.
“You look familiar,” he said. “I remember that tail. Deadly, isn’t it?”
“My name is Leticia. We used to be—we were in love, once.”
He squinted at her. “Oh, right,” he said. “You.”
She withered beneath his gaze, no longer able to meet his eyes. Instead, she watched the Risen One’s burnt legs as it began to move toward the edge. Dark red tendons were visible behind its knees where the skin had been burned clean off.
Kovax issued the last command the Risen One would ever hear.
“Jump, Farranos.”
The Risen One’s feet slapped the ground, a light thump-thump-thump followed by silence as the man once called Farranos fell through the cold forest air. All was silent until they heard the shush-thump of his body crashing through leaves before smacking into the ground.
“Is it gone yet?” Basher said. He had covered his eyes with both hands and now peeked through his fingers.
“It’s gone,” Leticia said. She released all the air in her lungs and looked ready to faint. Strands of hair had fallen across her face. She didn’t bother to brush them away.
Iolus gave Kovax an approving nod. He had crossed his arms over his chest and grinned like a madman.
“You’ve had your fun,” Kovax said, glaring at the sorcerer. His voice had changed; it was lower now, raspier. He turned to his men. “The rest of you should start thinking about the journey ahead. You are to accompany Iolus on his search for Milo and Emma Banks, and you are to bring them back to me alive. If I receive anything less, I’ll kill you and summon you back from the dead to be my slaves for the rest of my long life. Understood?”
Iolus, still grinning, studied their faces.
“I understand,” Leticia said.
“Understood,” Coscoros and Basher said at the same time. Basher’s face had paled again.
Iolus stepped into the center of the group. “I assume I’ll be paid handsomely for this. And that I’ll have complete control over the operation, as well as any resources I might require.”
Kovax locked eyes with the sorcerer. “You know I killed Maximus.”
Iolus spat on the ground. “And I’ll never forgive you for that. Maximus and Zandra were mine.”
For the first time that night, Kovax allowed himself a broad smile.
“Well, Sorcerer. Should you bring these two children to m
e unharmed, I’ll give you the revenge you’ve always wanted.”
Iolus lifted his chin and peered suspiciously at the low mage.
“How so?”
“Zandra Banks is alive and well. I’m keeping her prisoner for the moment. Bring me Milo and Emma, and I’ll give you the woman you have so hated—and desired—for decades. You’ll be free to do with her as you wish. That’s a promise.”
Kovax reached into his cloak and brought out a white feather. He held it between two bony fingers and twirled it.
Iolus snatched the feather away and studied it. He pressed it to his nose and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“You’re not lying,” he said. “You have her here, in Lethargis?”
“I even broke her wings for you.”
Iolus spun around and made eye contact with the others. Anticipation had puffed up his skeletal frame and thickened his raspy voice, making him appear to be ten years younger.
The old Iolus was back.
“We meet in the castle courtyard in two hours. Don’t be late.”
He turned on his heels with a flourish and walked toward the shack, humming a joyful tune. On his way inside, he kicked the door shut with a single swipe of his leg.
As soon as they were alone, Kovax faced his soldiers. His voice came out low and secretive.
“Do not cross Iolus. He’s more powerful than any Savant you’ve ever seen, including me. He’s also a child in many ways, which makes him even more dangerous.”
Coscoros and Leticia gave small, sullen nods. Basher grunted and stroked the handle of his warhammer.
“I’ll teleport myself out of here,” Kovax said. “The rest of you meet at the castle gates in two hours, not a minute late. And remember what I said about failure. Remember Farranos.”
CHAPTER 44
T hat night, Emma dreamed.
She tossed and turned and kicked the covers off her bed, covered in cold sweat. The dreams were of the repetitive, feverish sort; small bombs of color and sound that went off in her head, rattling her throughout the night.
In one of them, a tall man stepped out of a wall of fire and walked straight toward her, grinning, his head tilted forward so she could barely see his eyes beneath his V-shaped brows. The flames curled in the air and let off black smoke that got in her nose and choked her. The man was coming closer. Emma coughed and her eyes burned, but she couldn’t shut them. She could see everything, despite the way the heat made the world seem to ripple.
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