by Nat Russo
Three argram warriors stood next to the man. And for the first time he saw their faces, insect-like with more eyes than he could count. Articulated, overlapping scales covered their bodies, serving as impenetrable armor. He looked at their powerful legs, remembering the jump he…no, the jump Ensif made…and saw that they bent backwards. Each of their six arms ended in three protrusions that gripped together like fingers, but a single bone in the shape of an elongated razor, no more than two feet long, folded back from the wrist into a slot in the arm, like a knife slides into a sharpener. A tarsal sword.
The man cleared his throat, and all eyes turned toward him.
“Remember this day, people of Lasin. Today is the day we forge peace between Argram and Lasinian.”
A peace that will never be, forged by a man who will never exist.
The images swirled again and Nicolas felt as if he were falling. But when he opened his eyes, some unseen force was lifting him into the air. The whole of civilization spread out over the surface of a planet below him. Argram and Lasinian lived and worked together, and their combined intellect produced the greatest works of art, science, and philosophy the world had ever known.
None of this will ever happen!
Nicolas wept.
An entire civilization robbed of its existence because of rage and revenge. How could they let this happen?
It was too much. He felt dirty, as if the residue of a billion sins coated his skin. Rage formed inside him to rival the rage of the Argram, and it threatened to consume him in an outpouring of arcane energy. He calmed his mind, knowing he would make this creature pay for every evil act. Ensif would pay for every life whose existence he had stolen. He would pay for every song that went unwritten. Every painting left unpainted.
Clarity washed over him, and he knew the punishment this creature would have to endure to be purified. Ensif would live as a penitent for thousands of years, and Nicolas would be the instrument of his purification, every step of the way, until the argram had paid every last penny of Zubuxo’s price.
When the rage subsided, a comforting thought came to him.
Salvation is possible…even for Ensif.
Time behaved again.
Nicolas was back in the cavern with Mujahid, but he’d experienced over a hundred years in a fraction of a second.
An undead argram stood before him. The creature’s appearance hadn’t changed much. Dozens of tiny sockets had replaced the eyes he recalled from the images. Ensif’s body was thinner, but he had been mostly bone to begin with.
Six tarsal swords unfolded and the argram reared.
Nicolas imagined the argram shackled by a leash, and the creature froze in place.
A pathway to the argram formed in Nicolas’s mind, and he knew he was in control. He couldn’t help grinning. Mujahid was too busy clearing away rock to have noticed, though.
The sound of swords clashing against swords told him the invaders must have reached the skeletal warriors.
The argram spoke with a hiss. “Why have you summoned me, priest? Why do I no longer sense my nestlings?” The argram folded his swords.
“Go take care of those dudes who are chasing us.”
Impotent rage emanated from the necromantic bond. Ensif wasn’t happy.
Whatever, bug face. You don’t gotta like it, you just gotta do it.
The argram leapt around the bend in the tunnel with one thrust of his legs. Screams of the dying invaders echoed through the passage as Ensif slaughtered them without effort. Ensif returned a few seconds later.
“The task is finished, priest,” Ensif said.
Nicolas thought the argram sounded insulted, like a noble being asked to make his own bed.
“Your name is Ensif, isn’t it?” Nicolas said.
“That name no longer holds meaning for me, priest.”
“I’m sorry, Ensif, but you’re wrong. I think this is all about knowing yourself. And you don’t realize who you are and what you’ve done.”
“Release me,” Ensif said. “I served my hive with honor.”
“Was it honor when you tore that girl limb from limb for no other reason than she was human?”
“There were many girls. The humans treated us no better.”
“And they’ll pay for what they did, too. There were no—”
“How are you speaking with it?” Mujahid said.
The voice startled Nicolas. He turned around and saw the passage was clear. Mujahid was staring at him with a strange expression on his face.
“What do you mean?” Nicolas said.
“That language, boy. How could you know it?”
“You got a hole in your screen door or something? He’s talking the same language we are.”
Mujahid’s eyes widened, as if comprehending what had happened. “You summoned it? How in Arin’s name did you manage it?”
He shuddered when he thought of the images he had seen. No, he could never think of that experience as imagery anymore. He had lived another person’s life, as Mujahid warned him he would. And more…he had watched an impossible future unfold from the vantage point of a god. He felt as if he was as responsible for everything that happened as Ensif was. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel clean again.
“Gods,” Mujahid said. “What else might you be capable of? Maintain the bond, and follow me. We make for Egis.”
“What the hell’s an Egis?”
“The easternmost city in the Shandarian Union, on the border of Religar.”
“The Shandar what on the where now?”
Mujahid rolled his eyes. “Just follow. And keep that thing on a short tether.”
CHAPTER TEN
They made camp at a rock outcropping in the foothills of a mountain range.
Magical fire pulsed with a rhythmic hum under the amber sky, sending vapor into Nicolas’s face whenever the breeze changed direction. He had asked Mujahid why they didn’t build a normal fire and was rewarded with a startled look and something about how he’d sooner burn gold. Mujahid told him wood was becoming less common since the Great Barrier went up, and no one knew why, though he thought it had something to do with the hidden sun.
Nicolas was happy to rest his sore feet. They had walked for hours after leaving the mountain tunnel, and blisters from too many hours in boots were stinging him.
Dwarf trees, no taller than two or three feet in height, peppered the landscape, scattered amongst scrub brush that covered the ground in patches.
Mujahid hadn’t spoken two words in the last couple hours. Whenever he did take the time to look at Nicolas, he looked like a person trying to solve a puzzle.
Nicolas sensed the argram even though the creature was out of sight. It was unnerving, as if he had discovered a sixth sense every bit as clear as his vision.
“That penitent of yours is a good hunter,” Mujahid said, breaking the awkward silence.
Nicolas snapped out of his thoughts.
“You should send him to fetch game for us to eat. In the morning, we’ll go on to Egis and continue your training with the coven there. It will be slower, but…it is what it is.”
Nicolas sent the argram away. “What the hell happened back there in Paradise?”
Mujahid glanced up at the sky. “It’s night, you know. There was a time when countless stars filled the sky. Now, even the moons are hidden. What you see now is the naked barrier itself, unlit by the sun.” He mumbled something under his breath and looked at Nicolas. “It’s no coincidence I found you near that crypt when I did, boy.”
“I’m listening,” Nicolas said.
Mujahid pulled at the necklace hanging from his neck until a glowing amulet emerged from his robes.
“This is the symbol of your birthright. The Talisman of Archmages.”
Nicolas reached for the amulet.
“No, boy.” Mujahid tried to snap the necklace back, but Nicolas was too quick.
When Nicolas’s fingertip touched the amulet, the ground pulled away from him.
&
nbsp; The world started spinning and no matter where he looked, everything was rushing away from him.
He emptied his stomach. He couldn’t tell which direction was up and which was down for several minutes.
“That was my fault,” Mujahid said. “I should have warned you. Don’t touch this anymore.”
“What the hell happened? And why isn’t it doing the same thing to you?”
“What do you know of your past? I mean the world you came from?”
“I wish you’d stop dodging my questions—”
“I’m trying to answer them, boy. Now tell me how much you remember of your past.”
“What’s to tell? My parents either died, or didn’t want me. I ended up at an orphanage run by the church and spent some time in foster homes. There was a man who was like a father to me. But he’s gone now.” A pang of grief returned when he remembered Dr. Murray and the funeral.
“There’s no easy way for me to tell you this,” Mujahid said.
Nicolas tried to suppress the lump forming in his throat. “What?”
Mujahid spread his arms. “I held you in these hands when you were a babe. I presented you to your father myself, as Prime Warlock.”
Nicolas felt like a man who had just discovered his girlfriend was a guy. “What?”
“It was at the Pinnacle…the center of religious authority in Erindor, ruled by a body called the Council of Magi. Their leader is a man known as the Archmage. Kagan.”
Heat rose inside Nicolas.
“I was the one who cast the binding spell on this Talisman…I linked it to your soul. It’s an object of power…a tool that leads whoever wields it to you. You became dizzy because you were locating yourself. Not a wise thing to attempt.”
A war of emotion erupted inside Nicolas, cycling through feelings faster than he understood them. Shock at news he thought impossible. Anger at being a cosmic pawn of some sort. Fear that he might never see Kaitlyn again. Despair over being helpless to do anything about it. But the feelings settled on anger. None of this was true. Mujahid had to be lying to him. Had to be.
“You’re crazy,” Nicolas said. “I mean, you’re nuts.” He slapped the rock he was sitting on, making his hand vibrate with pain. “This whole place is nuts!”
Mujahid swore. “Too much, too soon. I should take my own advice.” He placed a hand on Nicolas’s shoulder. “I know you must feel somewhat—”
“No!” Nicolas said and pushed Mujahid’s hand away. “I don’t believe any of it.”
“Objective truth doesn’t require your belief to remain true,” Mujahid said.
Nicolas turned away.
“There are those of this world who would see Necromancy wiped from the face of Erindor and replaced by a perversion of magic they call Life Magic. It was life magi who led the invasion of Paradise.”
“No,” Nicolas said. He pushed Mujahid away with a forceful shove. “You’re wrong about that. You’re wrong about everything.”
“I need you to calm yourself and take this in,” Mujahid said.
Nicolas tried, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. He’d seen too much. In his mind, a link pointed him toward an undead insect he’d called back from the grave, and a glowing skull floated around a well of power. No, he couldn’t deny it anymore.
Nicolas turned to Mujahid. Rage simmered under the surface of his emotions, but he trusted the man. “I’m still listening.”
“Good. Because there’s more to this festering mess.”
Mujahid took a seat on another boulder behind Nicolas. He took a deep breath and sighed.
“Archmage Kagan is your father, Nicolas. You are the heir to the Obsidian Throne, next in line to be the supreme religious leader in the Three Kingdoms.”
Nicolas stared straight ahead. The words weren’t making sense to him.
“He will stop at nothing to find you. He wants you trained in life magic, and I can’t allow that. I won’t.”
“My father is alive, and he lives here. On another world.”
“That’s all you took from what I told you? Listen, boy. No one in Erindor wields more life-magic than he does. No one wields more political cunning. And no one wields more religious authority. He may not be a king, but that matters little when the world considers him the voice of the gods.”
Nicolas thought back to his Western Civilization classes in college. Kings and Queens deferred to the Pope, or their own people rose up against them.
“Ok, let’s say you’re right and I believe all this. Why would my father want me trained as a life magus? Won’t I die if I stop training in necromancy? You said yourself the skull would have killed me.”
Mujahid closed his eyes and sighed. “Necromancy isn’t the only path through the Hall of Power. Many of those life magi were once necromancers.”
“See, that’s the kind of thing you tell a guy before he enters a Hall of Power and hangs his hat on one of those doors.”
“You’ve felt the wrongness of the white door in your heart. Passing through that door puts you on the path to becoming a life magus, and it’s a difficult path to find your way back from.”
Nicolas remembered how much the white door had disgusted him.
“There was a time your father was a good man and friend of mine. But life magic corrupts. It stands against everything we hold sacred.” Mujahid glanced at the sky. “In his madness your father created that monstrosity. I watched as he defied the gods and defiled the Pinnacle, and they branded me a traitor for standing against him. That was the day I saw you taken. I had no proof he was lying…that he was a false prophet, so Clan Mukhtaar was driven underground.”
Nicolas kept shaking his head. “I can’t be this person.”
“I’m sorry, boy. But somewhere inside, you know I’m right.”
Nicolas wanted to cry out in rage. He wanted to pick up the boulder Mujahid was sitting on and turn it over.
“Remember what I taught you about clearing your mind,” Mujahid said. “Necropotency heightens your senses. When emotion battles reason, it can help.”
“I don’t feel much around here.”
“You must be close to a source to use it. There are few nearby, so your power is limited.”
Nicolas drew some power into his well.
“I’ve lived my entire life away from here,” Nicolas said. “Why pull me back now?”
“The gods have a plan for you that I can only guess at. A guess based on wisdom, but a guess nonetheless.” Mujahid put his hand on Nicolas’s shoulder. “I’ve waited for you for many years, boy.”
Nicolas squinted. “How’d you know I’d ever come back?”
Mujahid clutched his necklace. “This isn’t the only Talisman of Archmages. Its twin hangs around the neck of my successor. Because of it, the archmage knows you’ve returned, and he knows where you are.”
“So what now?”
“If there’s one thing we can count on from your father, it’s arrogance. He doesn’t know all of my secrets.”
A rhythmic pounding on the ground drew Nicolas’s attention, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. The sound seemed to come from all directions at once.
“Arin’s arse,” Mujahid said. “Follow me, and make as little noise as possible.”
“What is it?”
“Did you not hear me the first time? The archmage tracks your every move. If I can find you in the middle of nowhere, so can he.”
Mujahid wove a path through the shrubs.
The dull pounding grew louder and Nicolas struggled to keep up with Mujahid.
“Your argram, boy. Call to him.”
“Ensif!” Nicolas yelled.
Mujahid smacked him on the back of the head.
“Fool! Use your link, not your voice. The whole festering Shandarian Union knows we’re here now.”
Nicolas concentrated on the link in his mind, but he didn’t see any way to communicate with Ensif. “I don’t know how.”
“Direct the energy, boy.”
Ni
colas imagined the argram running back to him and sent the image through the necromantic link.
The argram replied with an image of a vast plain. Ensif was far away.
Another image came to him. This time, it depicted empty hands. Ensif had found no game on his hunt.
“Drop your weapons.” The voice came from farther into the brush. It was a deep voice, like it reverberated out of a huge barrel instead of a man. “There’s no use in it. You know damned well there’s no way past us now. Drop your arms and you’ll live to see the inside of a Shandarian jail cell. I think you’d prefer that to the inside of an adda-ki, no?”
Mujahid gestured for Nicolas to stop, and he whispered. “We must tread with caution. Don’t use my name or title if you value either of our lives. Better yet, say nothing.”
Several large animals approached from all directions with catlike grace. They blended into the surrounding countryside, and all but their outline was invisible. Nicolas focused on the closest shape. It had six legs, like the cow beast from days ago, but it was different. The animal was at least twice the length of the largest horse he’d ever seen.
The creature appeared to have no rider at first, but the outline of something man-shaped stepped down from it. Whatever was dismounting was as transparent as the horse creature. The man shape turned its head and Nicolas jumped in shock. Two eyes floated in the air as if disembodied. They were feline, and glowed from the reflected light of the amber barrier.
Mujahid looked down and swore. “Shandarian Rangers.”
“Are they cats or something?”
“Human…mostly. Religious warriors. Animalists. They’re under holy vows that give them some magic.”
“Wait…mostly?”
“You think Necromancy is the only form of magic?”
“What the hell do I know about magic?”
Nicolas didn’t know what to do as the cat eyes approached him, so he held out his hand in greeting, hoping it was the right gesture.
The man shape knocked Nicolas’s hand out of the way with one arm and struck a painful blow to his face with the other.
Nicolas grabbed his jaw, checking for any breaks, but everything was intact. He had a nasty cut on his lip, though, and his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
