Necromancer Awakening

by Nat Russo

  A male voice boomed in his mind.

  He who walks between worlds.

  It was a voice he heard under Aquonome the day the siek took him to the Great Barrier.

  Bring down the sky. Save the children.

  Nicolas reached up and grabbed his head. The voice was powerful…and sad.

  “What is it?” Mujahid said.

  “I hear voices. Loud voices.”

  Mujahid frowned, as if someone had just told him that hot was cold.

  A crackling sensation rippled across Nicolas’s skin. The yellow vanished and he looked out over the bow. His chest tightened as he caught his first glimpse of the Pinnacle.

  Resting atop a foundation of solid stone, the Pinnacle complex was the most prominent feature of the island. A massive city upon a mesa, it stretched more than a mile across the mountaintop and dwarfed everything around it. The complex was as much a temple as it was a fortress, with tall minarets rising up beyond its fortified wall. A lofty helical tower, with arched windows, spiraled up from the center and tapered toward the top. It reminded Nicolas of the minaret at the Great Mosque of Samarra, though this was at least twice the size in every direction. It reflected the yellow light from the barrier sky like a golden beacon. Its spirals alternated in shade and created a barber pole effect that reached toward a soaring beam of amber shooting into the sky. Crackles of multicolored energy soared upwards along the beam toward the pale yellow barrier and disappeared into it.

  The Great Orb was up there. Nicolas couldn’t see it, but he knew it. He knew it was the source of that amber beam. It was the source of the barrier. It was the source of all the trouble in this world.

  But the Great Orb wasn’t the only thing that waited for him beyond that fortified wall. Kagan waited among the minarets, among the council magi and pilgrims.

  He wouldn’t have long to wait.

  I’m home, father.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  When the ship docked, Nicolas noticed something odd. Pinnacle guardsmen patrolled the area in much smaller numbers than he had expected.

  “Shouldn’t there be more guards?” Nicolas asked.

  Mujahid shook his head. “This is an island of magi, Nicolas, surrounded by waters that are virtually impassable. When the Barathosian Empire sent their armada, even they were smart enough to avoid a direct confrontation with the Pinnacle. If an attack is going to come for the Pinnacle, it won’t come by sea or sword.”

  “That’s something else I’m afraid of,” Nicolas said.

  “Let Commander Yuli and I worry about the Pinnacle guard. Your goal is the sanctuary at the top of the central tower. You’re dressed like a priest of Arin, so use that to your advantage.”

  Nicolas nodded, uncomfortable in the bulky brown robe with over-sized hood, and walked down the gangplank with Mujahid.

  “Remember,” Mujahid said. “Enter with the pilgrims through Bishop’s Gate on the west side of the fortress. It’s reserved for the religious orders. They’ll lead you to a large room at the bottom of the tower…cavernous, by most standards, and you’ll see a great spiraling staircase leading up. Take it. And be careful. There are men and women in that fortress who have forgotten more about magic than you will ever learn. Oh, and you’ll need this.” He handed the tithe box to Nicolas

  “What about the patrols? Isn’t someone gonna stop me?”

  “I’ll keep them busy. No one here knows what you look like…not even your father. People will look at you and see a priest of Arin. You still have the dagger?”

  Nicolas nodded.

  “Well don’t be afraid to use it.”

  Nicolas headed toward the west end of the dock, but stopped when Mujahid called out to him.

  “Good luck, Nicolas,” Mujahid said. “Remember Lamil’s teachings. Cling to the things that give your life meaning. They define you and make you powerful. And remember this…you’re still my postulant, regardless of that festering robe they gave you. Get yourself killed and I’ll make sure you live to regret it.”

  Nicolas smiled and headed toward the staircase.

  “Do you think he can do it?” Yuli asked.

  Mujahid pulled power into his well. On most occasions it was something he did without thought, but this time it brought him comfort to direct the flow of the energy with purpose.

  “We’ll give him as good a chance as we can, Commander, even if it means we die trying.”

  “Looks like we’re going to have that chance sooner rather than later,” Yuli said. She nodded toward an approaching Pinnacle guard patrol.

  Mujahid pulled off his Arinian robes and exposed the midnight blue necromancer’s Robe of Mastery. The symbol of ascension ignited in his mind.

  “Now it begins,” he said.

  He cast the power forward and hoped it would buy Nicolas the time he needed.

  An enormous torrent of energy flowed past Nicolas. Mujahid must be drawing the guards to the dock to keep them away from the sanctuary.

  Nicolas pulled his hood up as he climbed the grand stairway that was carved into the stony foundation of the Pinnacle. The stairway switched back on itself several times as it made the hundred-foot climb above the dock. Mist from the sea no longer reached him here, but the smell and taste of salt in the air remained. He slipped on the shiny stairs and chided himself for not being more careful. It would be pretty sad if he came all this way only to slip on some stairs and break his neck.

  The steps looked as if someone had carved them with a machine, so perfect were the edges, and the stone banisters were engraved with ornate scroll work. A glint of light caught his eye from one of the steps and he looked down.

  The light emanated from within the stone, as if the rock were lit by some internal energy source. Back in Austin this wouldn’t have struck him as odd at all. But in Erindor? There was magic involved here.

  Several guards passed him, saying “Father.”

  Mujahid was right. They only see a priest of Arin.

  Nicolas kept his hands folded in front of him and nodded back.

  The top of the staircase emerged onto a rectangular plaza dominated by the Pinnacle fortress that surrounded it on three sides. Everything was a rich, dark-brown color. Highlights and bas-reliefs were layered in gold, in stark contrast to their darker surroundings.

  A stone stairway, spanning the width of the plaza, rose up to a marble colonnade on the far end, where four monolithic doors hung open. That must be the primary entrance to the Pinnacle, and it was an entrance Mujahid told him to avoid. The twisting passages within would lead him away from the main tower, rather than toward it.

  Two grand arches bordered the east and west sides of the plaza. Bishop’s Gate, the gate for pilgrims, was somewhere beyond the western arch, so he headed in that direction.

  An enormous surge of power raised the hair on his arms, and shouts went up throughout the plaza.

  “Necromancers at the dock!”

  Nicolas looked over the edge of the plaza and glanced down toward the dock more than a hundred feet below. Mujahid had raised a penitent, and it was slicing through Pinnacle guard two at a time. A green cloud descended on several of the guardsmen and they dropped to the ground, clutching their throats. Another cloud descended on the stone staircase leading down to the dock.

  He picked up his pace and walked through the arch, but he had to resist the urge to run when he turned the corner.

  More than a hundred guards were running toward him, making their way into the plaza. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the same thing happening at the eastern arch.

  He lowered his head and kept walking, but he couldn’t shake the certainty of what was about to happen.

  There’s no way Mujahid and Yuli will survive this.

  Pinnacle guardsmen poured down the stairway as Mujahid offered a silent prayer to Shealynd. The symbol of ascension burned with fury as he channeled a continuous flow of power into the disease trap he laid over the staircase. The trap pulled power from him at an extraordinary rate whe
n the first wave of guardsmen entered and collapsed to the ground. He broke the link to the trap and allowed it to consume whatever energy it had left. Corpses lined the pristine marble staircase and the number grew as guards fell by the dozen.

  Mujahid turned inward and started raising the dead. Two corpses rose on the staircase. He sent the attack command and both corpses bounded up the stairs toward oncoming guards.

  “Now,” he yelled to Yuli.

  The commander shouted orders and several of her men launched volleys of arrows up over the staircase.

  “Is this wise?” Yuli asked. “We’re shooting blind. We could hit anything up there.”

  “If it’s up there, we want to hit it.”

  His penitents were moving through guardsmen like skilled warriors battling new recruits. It had been decades since the Pinnacle Guard had done battle with a master necromancer, and their lack of training was showing.

  It wasn’t the Guard that Nicolas needed to worry about, however. It was the Council. The older Council magi were once powerful necromancers themselves, before the Great Purge, which forced them to forsake their vows or be banished. They would know what to expect from an inexperienced priest. And no matter how far the boy had come in his training, he was inexperienced.

  But not Mujahid.

  Mujahid was a Mukhtaar Lord, forged in the undying fires of Paradise, and raised by Rite of Testing to a state of ascendancy. He had paid a dear price for his ascension, in ways no man living save one could comprehend.

  Mujahid was no inexperienced priest. Today the Council would pay a debt to society for their crimes against humankind. Today they would know the wrath of a Mukhtaar Lord.

  He filled his well and advanced up the marble stairs to the plaza.

  Nicolas slipped into a group of pilgrims as they entered the Great Hall.

  The palatial hall was separated into two halves, one comprised of several large, sunk-in sitting areas, ringed with polished travertine stone banisters, and the other a banquet area with rows of glazed-granite tables and benches. The walls, ceiling, and floor all looked as if they were carved from a single piece of polished rust-brown marble.

  A group of women gathered in the closest sitting area. They were speaking with animated gestures.

  “I’m well past my time now,” a woman said. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  Most of them smiled when they heard the news, but an older woman didn’t share their excitement.

  “Don’t set your hopes as high as last time,” the older woman said.

  They passed the group before he could hear the rest of the conversation. Why would they tell a pregnant woman to not be happy?

  The base of the helical tower was on the far end of the room…right where Mujahid said it would be. Arched openings running up the outside wall allowed natural light to illuminate the spiraling stairs inside.

  His group would pass the base of the stairs on their way to another shrine, so he slowed in an effort to fall back to the rear. He had to do something about the guard that followed them, though.

  He dove into the stairwell, releasing two ropes of necropotency behind him. With a strong mental tug, he pulled the guard into the stairwell behind him with one rope while using the other to gag him.

  Nicolas dragged the guard behind a half wall, then pulled the dagger from his robe.

  The guard’s eyes bulged, but the mystical gag kept his screams from being heard.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nicolas said.

  Nicolas thrust the dagger into the guard’s throat. He backed away as the life drained from the innocent man.

  What have I become?

  When the last shred of life left the guard, Nicolas raised him and bounded up the spiral staircase toward the sanctuary, losing count of the number of turns it made.

  A cloaked man in leather boots, wearing a talisman like Mujahid’s, ran down the stairs toward him.

  There has to be a way through this without killing everybody I run into!

  The words of Siek Lamil echoed in his mind. “You will make the journey to the Plane of Death with the blood of many men on your hands.”

  He shot a cylinder of necropotency toward the man’s throat.

  The man vanished, and a wave of power passed through Nicolas’s chest from front to back.

  It happened so fast that Nicolas had to look twice. He cursed under his breath and continued up the stairs. There was no going back now.

  A great shudder forced him to the ground as another barrier quake started, but the quake fueled his determination. He would put an end to these quakes and to Kagan as well.

  Mujahid looked at the Pinnacle guardsmen gathering in the plaza and knew, in his heart, that he was defeated.

  “Get us out of this alive and I promise I won’t make jokes about you playing with dead things,” Yuli said.

  “Let’s just hope we bought him enough time,” Mujahid said.

  Shouts arose from the guardsmen.

  Mujahid watched with a mixture of surprise and anger as three undead emerged from the eastern arch and sliced through the guards like master swordsmen.

  “That damned boy,” he said. “I told him to go straight for the central tower and forget about us.”

  “Fear not, Lord Mujahid,” a voice said from behind.

  Tithian.

  “The damned boy is right where you sent him,” Tithian said. “I left him on the central stairs a moment ago. I think I scared the both of us. In fact, I think he tried to kill me.”

  “Three penitents,” Mujahid said. “Not bad for a rusty life magus.”

  “My people are cleaning up the guard on the east end, but they can’t do it all. They’re spies and assassins, not soldiers, and certainly not magi.”

  “You were right. I…you should know, that’s all.”

  “In your own words, old friend, let’s survive this war first, then we’ll tend to forgiveness.”

  Mujahid nodded. “Where do you need us the most?”

  “Make your way through the eastern arch to the tunnels. We can draw the council out from a position of strength and cover. You have the proper sigil?”

  “I taught you of sigils, if I recall.”

  Tithian smiled and vanished.

  The ground rumbled as the quake continued, and the stairwell filled with dust.

  The way the tower was tapering, he should be getting close to the sanctuary. He made one more turn around the spiral staircase, clinging to the central wall, and a travertine-lined corridor came into view as he rounded the curve.

  This was the place Mujahid told him about.

  Portraits of magi set in bas-relief lined the corridor on each side. The passage ended in a large arch with two massive stone doors. They hung open to reveal a multi-hued orb of cascading light in the room beyond. As the liquid light flowed over the orb’s surface it broke around swirls of energy that radiated every color of the rainbow. A beam of golden yellow as wide as the orb rose straight up from the top. The amount of energy it radiated was incalculable. He’d experienced this much power only one other time—near the barrier wall under the city of Aquonome.

  This had to be the Great Orb of Arin.

  So why were the doors open? Kagan must have heard that rumpus going on out there.

  The ground around him shook, but the Orb of Arin seemed to be permanently fixed in the air, unmovable by any natural force.

  He approached the orb, expecting to be attacked at any moment. Mujahid warned him that Kagan would be close to the orb, especially if there was a disturbance on the island. But Nicolas was alone. He filled his well with power to enhance his senses.

  As he walked closer to the orb, a war of emotion erupted inside him. He could leave. If this orb was anything like the Orb of Zubuxo, then all he had to do was reach out and touch it. It took the Cichlos back home. It would take him home too. Back to Kaitlyn. He could put all of this behind him and hold her in his arms once more. It had been almost a year since he last saw her. Was she waiting for him?
Did she think he was dead?

  The heir. He who walks between worlds…Nicolas.

  The voice resounded through his being as if it possessed him. It was different this time than under Aquonome. In the sea, a cacophony of voices had bombarded him, but this time a single, majestic voice entered his mind.

  You have come. And now you must bring down the sky.

  “But I don’t know how.”

  You are not alone.

  A blanket of energy hit his back and wrapped around him. The power drained away from him, emptying his well until the last drop of necropotency vanished. It was a shield of some sort.

  He spun and saw a tall, slender man standing in the doorway.

  The man wore a plain black head cover that laid flat against the top of his head. It was shaped like a zucchetto worn by a Catholic bishop, except broader, covering more of the head, and without the stem on top. Tufts of silvery hair poked out from beneath the cover. A red scapular trimmed with black wrapped around his shoulders and hung down to the center of his chest, where he clasped his slender fingers together. His black, floor-length cassock hid his shoes, but they clacked against the stone floor when he stepped.

  “I believe you are my son,” the man said.

  Kagan. He set a trap for me and I walked right into it.

  “That makes you the son of a god, you know,” Kagan said. “It also makes you the sole heir to my throne. It would be wise for us to get to know one another, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Nicolas seethed. Kagan was the reason he was here, the reason this world had destroyed itself, and he was the cause of all the pain Nicolas saw on the Field of Judgment.

  One of them would die today. And Nicolas would make damned sure it was Kagan.

  Mujahid led Yuli and the remaining men through the eastern arch to a small plaza, bordered on each side by Pinnacle buildings. The hidden entrance he had shown Tithian decades earlier was just ahead.