Palose shook his head, “No you can’t. We both know that I can defeat you anytime. Stop issuing threats that you can’t enforce and don’t want to attempt.”
Each warning came with no tone of respect or fear of the master necromancer. Atrouseon, instead of backing down or becoming calm, became more irate and refuted, “This is why they speak about me behind my back. You talk like you are my equal. I want to see some respect from you, boy, and some gratitude even. Who do you think you are?”
Eyes narrowing slightly, the mage seemed almost compelled to say, “I do have gratitude to you for bringing me back, though we both know it is you or one of the others with you that caused my death as I rode with another mage drawing you and the nomads serving you. When I crossed to a fresh horse to maintain our pace, it was a fireball from one of you who caused the horses to stumble causing the fall which broke my neck.
“Did you know that I can still feel the bump even after you straightened my neck? It reminds me of what I owe you every day.
“As to respect, you had that once; but like your career here in Ensolus, you have thrown it away. You are directionless since the emperor took your project and fulfilled its directive. I suggested ideas for you to grow along with everyone else, but you were stuck in your house or on a portal team wasting your talent. Be glad that the emperor took pity on you and gave you your current assignment.
“Until today, this new path actually looked to have taken you forward; but now here you are being pulled back into the past.”
Atrouseon said nothing at first, though his power began to grow within the warlock as his anger at the boy welled up inside. Finally he admitted, “They were right when they warned me that you would be unfaithful to me no matter how I placed the runes and wards. They said that the dead never show gratitude. Now you stand there trying to preach to me as you sneak behind my back working against me!
“I have felt your playing with power and seen you with the emperor insinuating yourself with him, if Kolban even truly is the emperor we once knew. He has changed like you have. Perhaps these grown vessels are as impure as the dead. Well, at least one of these mistakes I can change. I may not be able to touch the emperor or his siblings, but you are quite another matter,” he stated pointing an accusing finger.
Slapping his forehead, Palose shook his head complaining in frustration, “Have you not heard a word I have said?”
There would be no diplomacy that could stop Atrouseon from doing what he did next. In the texts, he had read of a spell to dispel the dead and the warlock cast his magic in an instant.
“Night shield,” the battle mage turned his body placing his left hand between them and cast a massive shield of darkness making sight of him nearly impossible for the warlock. Atrouseon didn’t need to see him exactly to make the spell connect. There was nothing that could stop it, not even the black shield. This was no elemental spell to be prevented, but as the warlock knew that the magic had struck the mage he watched as it did nothing to the resurrection man.
A second quick spell targeted his power within the boy, while Palose stood still and unharmed. His will was set against the warlock, but he waited to see what the man would try. Even to the end, he sought to avoid killing the necromancer.
Once more Atrouseon’s magic reached through the shield like it was not even there, but the second spell achieved no more than the first. He had waited too long to try such a simple thing against one who had been back so long. Knowing this approach would no longer work on a soul that had come back and reestablished his presence in this world, the warlock changed to a light spell. The brilliance of the beam left a purple scar in his vision, but the light dispelled the shield in an instant.
This was the attack that set the mage to action. Fireballs were fired. Atrouseon raised his own night shield drawing off the insignificant magic and countered with wind that cut through the street only to find a second night shield. Stone was pulled from the buildings flanking the warlocks and thrown onto the battle mage, but blue shields of immense strength and size rose from behind the black magic angling the rock onto the ground away from him.
Atrouseon cast a new death spell. The dark magic was one that would target a heart to silence it. Once more it had no effect on the dark mage. He was neither alive nor dead and proof against such spells, the warlock judged quickly, and turned the street against the boy instead. Jumping beneath the mage’s feet, dust rose into the air as the stone of the cave rolled into the black shield.
When Palose appeared on his right away from his shields as if from nowhere, the warlock tried to catch up to the swift moving young man. Night leaped from the boy’s hands as he called, “Shadow snare.”
Atrouseon called his light magic aiming it at the mage dispelling the reaching tendrils, but it had been another misdirection as more shadows leaped from his shield. Out of the dust and broken stone, the twin spell lashed out catching the warlock wrapping around his right arm and leg. Another quick cast of his light dispersed the clinging cables of night, but it was too late.
Palose was close and could have stabbed him with a blade as the distance closed. Two more men rushed Atrouseon from both behind him in the street and the opposite alley from the mage. A large strong man with a wild black beard dressed in red and brown took hold of his left arm, while a younger, tall, dark haired boy dressed mostly in blue caught his other arm.
Surprised by the two men and even more by the feeling of his magic bound within them, Atrouseon quickly understood the reason his tracking spell had been confused. “You have brought more back like you!”
A knife with a stone blade covered in runes slipped from the young man’s sleeve into his right hand bringing Atrouseon’s eyes wide. “You can’t kill me! I order you not to kill me!” the warlock cried out calling on the guards within the spell that had brought the mage back to life.
Palose intoned a spell and the knife began to glow, but as it neared the warlock’s chest, the mage smiled sadly and replied, “I could simply say that I am not killing you, but releasing you from this life to circumvent the control of your magic, you know. It is simple to evade mere words, when I simply need to reorder what I conceive you have said, but this time I give you that little victory.”
He handed the knife to the strong, bearded wizard who took it moving the blade behind his back. The other wizard in blue joined a free hand to hold the blade with the fire wizard as Palose placed his hands on the warlock’s chest. The last words of the spell were intoned before the two wizards thrust the stone into his back. Blue light traced the knife and ran up the wizards’ arms and back to the restrained warlock.
The blue glow found its way to Palose’s hands on Atrouseon’s chest even as the warlock coughed up blood. The blade had plunged deep, but it was not an instant death that it caused as the magic within the man seemed to be drawn to the knife and out to the three men holding him.
“What?” Atrouseon coughed unable to draw more breath to ask his full question.
Blue light lit Palose’s eyes and the two working with him, but the incantation no longer required his concentration to perform as the last of Atrouseon’s magic was extracted from the warlock. Still holding the sad look on his face, the mage stated, “Etriak and Alimus feared that you had betrayed them and gave me both the knife and words needed to end our connection. The knife takes the maker’s power and gives it to the one raised. All the while, it protects me from any harm caused by killing the one who gave me life.
“I wasn’t going to use it, but then you gave me little choice.
“Oh, I suppose that I could have sent you with your tail between your legs again, but we both know that you would just look for help or say that I had turned against you like the other resurrection men. I do wonder how many of them were justified in killing their masters after dealing with you though.”
Atrouseon’s legs buckled as his strength left him. The warlock’s vision darkened as shadows threatened to claim him. Still he wouldn’t die as more of his m
agic pooled at the wound before being drawn away.
“Ungrateful,” he breathed as one lung filled fully leaving the remaining one just enough breath to accuse the mage. His eyes fought to remain open to accuse his killer.
Palose knelt in front of the warlock as the light dissipated. Atrouseon no longer held any magic and would have noticed how drained he was had the knife not remained a searing pain.
“Oh, I am grateful, Atrouseon, but that doesn’t make me foolish enough to let this end in another way. Just feel glad as you move into the next world, that your magic will aid us in changing how resurrection men live in this world. You can move on and see what you have taken from me. There will be no resurrection for you. I will see to it that your body is burned by Wakaraq within the hour, so no one can help you.”
A last gasp of air as the warlock’s head fell forward let Palose know that his maker was gone. He made sure to follow up on his last threat to make the warlock disappear in the fires at the crematorium not more than an hour later.
Chapter 34- Promise Fulfilled
With the death of Atrouseon, Palose had found not only an increase in his magical power, but it had trickled down into those he had brought back to life as well. While Wendle and Dorgred had thought that they felt stronger, and the mage could see the growth in their auras; it was Stasia and Talia who suddenly looked to be fledgling wizards as well.
Normals for most of their lives, the two girls had suddenly found sparks of magic in them that could only be explained by the influx of powers from the others and Atrouseon being drawn into them as well. Suddenly finding himself teacher to the two girls in an effort to avoid any accidents, Palose passed the next several days not only helping teach the girls, but also continuing to teach the men about portals.
Palose had a theory that what one could do within their little group; they could all do with varying degrees of difficulty.
Such preoccupations led Palose back and forth between his home, the library, and then to the warlock’s compound as his new duties as a master were being laid out for him. Everyone prepared the youthful apprentices in Ensolus he found, but his background had led the warlocks to wonder how he should best be used. His teaching of Lanquer had made him a hero and perhaps such a blend of mage and warlock could prove useful.
Unfortunately for the dark mage, the leaders of the warlocks had begun to demand more of his time as they worked with the young man to decide not only who he should teach but what. Sitting with Warlock Evres and Thielius, who had never asked about Atrouseon in any of their meetings despite his disappearance, Palose looked at the men wondering how much input came from the emperor since Evres worked with him so closely.
“I have talked with Lord Devolus about you,” the elder warlock spoke as he glanced at a book opened to a written page. A quill and ink sat ready and the stains on his hand proved that the man often wrote with them. Few in Ensolus took the time to write regularly, even Palose who could read and write, seldom worked with ink. “Your unique grasp of magic and martial arts might be our best way to rebuild the wizard hunters. So many were lost on this last campaign and it seems that a battle mage leading wizards was the biggest cause for their defeat.”
This wasn’t new information for Palose who had been privy to the news brought back by the head of the wizard hunters. Wizards of Southwall using light and shadow magic with the speed of a mage’s casting and battle mages using the same mixed with their already deadly skills had decimated two of the three vessels. While these were the downfall of the first ship in totality, a new magic had been brought against them by mermen of all things. The mage hadn’t even known that the mythical creatures were real, but the entire crew of the surviving lead ship led by Lord Liev had assured those inquiring that they were real. Strange new magic cast by a small army of the sea people had helped defeat them at sea where the Grimnal was rumored to be imprisoned.
“Wizard hunters will find battle mages, even without the new spells, different from facing wizards. The mizard proved that in close range a mage could easily defeat a wizard. When your tactics only account for the one type of caster, the combat skills of battle mages could very well lead to further defeats.”
The elder warlock nodded without any anger at the failed hunters. No one questioned that battle mages were more of a threat than many, even their fellow wizards, had once believed. Palose’s use of those skills and the new abilities of a warlock had proven once again that such training paired with his new power could defeat most warlocks as well.
“This is why the emperor wants you to gather a class of wizard hunters and warlocks to begin showing them how to use your version of magic and train them to be warriors as well,” Evres stated.
Thielius had looked thoughtful as the other two had spoken, but added, “I think that I would like to take part in this training also.”
The others looked at him in surprise. The warlock with elven ancestry met their stares with a shrug. “Surely there is merit to learning and aren’t all warlocks constantly trying to evolve to become greater than they are today? I may not become a battle warlock or whatever you might decide to call them, but I would like to see what Atrouseon unleashed with you.”
It was the first time anyone had mentioned the missing warlock’s name since the meetings had first begun days ago. More questions might have followed if not for the metal and stone band on Palose’s left wrist. A frown crinkled his forehead as the dark mage stated, “We will have to continue the discussion later, I am afraid. I must go.”
The other men looked at him in confusion. Warning stones were known to both warlocks with their extra decades of learning behind them, but what the stone was warning Palose about was the main question they wished to know.
“Can’t it wait?” Evres debated as he stroked his goatee without thinking about it.
Thielius nodded, “This is very important, Palose. We need to decide what you will teach and who. This is no time to go wandering off on some lark.”
Standing up from the table, the mage glared at the elvish warlock and informed the man, “If you truly think I would make a warning for unimportant reasons, then I am probably not the man you should be asking to train you, Thielius. I have given my word to someone that I would help and protect them. They apparently need my help or the warning light would not have triggered.”
He hurried from the room as Thielius started to rise in protest only to have Evres put up a hand to stall him. Palose didn’t even look back to see if they wished to give chase. His mind was already on preparing to jump through the next portal.
“Reflex,” he ordered first as his hand rested on the sword at his hip. A battle mage with a sword was as ready for a fight as he could be, so the man stopped in the hall gesturing as he invoked the spell. A glowing gateway opened up slowly to his enhanced vision and reflexes. Hurrying to make the leap, Palose was through the light and wind in a blink even to his sped up mind.
The scene he stepped into as the gateway closed behind him brought anger to the mage in an instant.
A scattering of winter pines, their needles green with the early winds of spring, surrounded a clearing that the man was nearly in the center of as he took in death. Dead bodies of warlocks, soldiers and nomads lay in the new spring grass already up to mid shin. Living nomads were around him staring at the bright gate until he leaped through it.
Bows and arrows turned to face the mage preparing to release their deadly payloads, but Palose was ready. Long knives were in other hands as they began to respond to the intruder from beyond the light. If he had been walking into the clearing without his increased reflexes, the young man had no doubt that he would have joined the dead. While many nomads served the emperor, this group apparently preferred their freedom at whatever cost.
At his feet, Palose spied Sylvaine. An arrow pierced her chest just below the heart, if he had to guess. She was barely breathing as blood soaked both her gray tunic and the green grass beneath the girl. Her eyes looked up at the mage as he
stepped from the light appearing ready to say good bye if she could only draw the breath with her one good lung.
Anger swelled within the chest of the dark mage and his eyes burned with rage. “Dead rise to get your revenge,” the man ordered as his magic lashed out against the killers of Ensolus’s troops. “Shield,” he added as shadows reached out along the ground from the mage’s feet.
Blue light encircled him protectively with Sylvaine in the grass inches from his feet. Arrows began to strike the protection before screams of fear replaced the shouts to destroy the newest intruder into their lands. All around Palose the dead began to rise. Dead soldiers, warlocks and even nomads stood as the shadows entered the husks replacing the lost light of life with darkness.
One of the dead leaped for a nomad as the man screamed. A soldier of Ensolus by his dress, he was now just a weapon of the dark mage, the necromancer with the power of many instead of one. Hands ripped at the nomad pulling him to the earth before scoring a death blow that tore out his neck.
Palose ignored the screams as the undead attacked the nomads, who had ambushed these people, just as another band had once attacked a team from Southwall. That had led to the flight from dozens more including Atrouseon, his warlocks and werewolves. His subsequent death had been the end result of the craven cowards and that ignited rage that only wanted their deaths in return, but his eyes went to the girl at his feet as she gasped for breath.
“Sylvaine, I am here. Don’t fear. I have come for you,” the man stated kneeling beside the beautiful, dark haired girl. Her curly hair was in disarray and her violet eyes seemed to barely see him as she fought for the last minutes of her life.
Cradling the girl in his arms, the dark mage found tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. Sylvaine’s eyes had tears of pain and fear as her impending death came for the apprentice.
He was no healer and the girl knew that, if her mind would let her think any longer beyond the fight for air. Palose could only hold her and wait. Screams came from beyond the blue fence, but the man barely heard as his army of undead pursued and tore down the nomads he hated for what they had once done to him and again to these people. His hatred didn’t even require that he look at them, he simply wanted them dead.
Battle Mage: The Dark Mage (Tales of Alus) Page 50
