Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (12 page)

A knock on the chamber doors told Nicolas Tithian had arrived, but it came as no surprise. Kagan was standing outside the room and warned Nicolas through the necromantic link moments earlier.

Toby had started whining long before Kagan’s warning, though.

Beagle nose trumps undead spidey sense, I guess
.

“Come on in,” Nicolas said.

Tithian entered the room, and Nicolas could tell he wasn’t happy.

Toby grabbed his gatorpickle and jumped up on Tithian’s leg, for which he was rewarded with a scratch behind the ears. It seemed Toby had won him over.

“I don’t have time to hear it right now,” Nicolas said. “I love ya, man, but this is important.”

“Just hear me out for a moment,” Tithian said, closing the door behind him. His eyes turned toward Kaitlyn, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He bowed his head in her direction. “Lady Kaitlyn. Please pardon my interruption.”

Kaitlyn waved her hand. “You weren’t interrupting.”

Tithian faced Nicolas once more. “I understand. Truly, I do. And I’m not going to try to stop you. But you’re our archmage now, and there are things you need to know. Not the least of which are the potential consequences of your chosen course of action. You are not yet a politician. But you need to be. And it’s my duty to help you become one.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Nicolas asked. “I can’t just let her die.”

“I really wish you’d stop saying that,” Kaitlyn said.

Toby jumped up into her lap when she spoke.

“Of course you can’t,” Tithian said, waving Nicolas’s comment away. “I’d never suggest it. But when you return to the Pinnacle…and you
will
return…you’re going to find the Council difficult to tame. They’ve had months to consolidate their power without you.”

“They have you,” Nicolas said.

Tithian shook his head. “I’m expendable, Archmage, and they know it. You have a divine calling. I was
hired
.”

“You did well without me.”

“Barely. You have no idea what things were like when you were gone. Forty years of quakes, starvation, and disease, gone like
that
.” Tithian snapped both fingers. “Loved ones thought dead returned to families who refused to believe they were real…families who had already disposed of property and other inheritances. Nations on the precipice of war because of an assassination—committed by your predecessor, I might add. And a people coming to grips with the knowledge that what they once thought sacrosanct—the Book of Life itself—could be forged by a madman. It was chaos, and it’s a testament to Arin’s power the Three Kingdoms didn’t destroy one another in the six months you were away.

“And if all of that isn’t enough, there’s still the Barathosian problem to consider. They’re sitting off the coast of Dar Rodon as we speak. They’re not going anywhere, Archmage. Are you prepared to deal with them? Do you have any plan for how the Council should approach this situation? Because when you return, I fear for what may happen if you don’t take definitive control.”

Nicolas lowered his head. Kaitlyn was days away from death. He couldn’t deal with all of this right now. But Tithian was right. He had a responsibility to the people of the Three Kingdoms. And in some way he had a responsibility to the Council of Magi. But there was someone Tithian left out. Arin.

Nicolas had sworn an oath to Arin at great personal sacrifice. At the time, he thought he’d never see Kaitlyn or Earth again. But having her back didn’t change his obligation. It didn’t change his duty to this new world. Well…new to
him,
at least. He’d fight off an army to save Kaitlyn if he had to. But he couldn’t ever forget that he was the archmage.

“I’m not going to be able to do this by myself,” Nicolas said.

“No one is expecting you to. But you
will
have to play your part. The part of an archmage. You can start by dressing like a Council magus. Remember, no one is going to recognize you on sight. You may think that a blessing, but trust me when I tell you it can be a curse.”

“What about these?” Nicolas asked, tugging at the archmage robes he was wearing.

“No,” Tithian said. “I’ll not have you taking a risk like that without me. You don’t go traipsing around dressed like the archmage without protection. Especially now.”

Tithian opened the wardrobe and examined the contents. He rifled through several of the robes, shirts, and trousers until he came to a white robe with a black scapular. He took the robe and trousers off a hanger and laid them on Nicolas’s bed.

“There’s pants?” Nicolas asked.

Tithian raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing pants?”

“No one told me about pants!” Nicolas held the pants at his side. Perfect length. “Wait. These aren’t girl pants, are they?”

“You’ll need this,” Tithian said.

Tithian handed him a small, black sphere. Larger than a marble, but small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. It was cool to the touch. Nicolas examined it for markings, but the sphere was seamless.

“That’s a translocation orb,” Tithian said. “It’s attuned to the Caspardis area. The city gate should be in view of your arrival point, as I recall. I’m…aware you’ve been there.”

Nicolas sniffed.

Been there? That was an understatement. The last time he’d
been there
, he was tossed into a dungeon, found guilty of heresy, flogged to within an inch of his life, and tossed into Lake Caspardis to drown.

Yeah…he’d
been there
.

“How does it work?” Nicolas asked.

“When you want to travel, channel a small amount of power into it. It will do the rest. Just make sure you’re touching whoever you want to travel with. The more people you take, the more power it will use. It
should
bring you back to the sanctuary here.”

“Should?”

Tithian blinked. “It’s best you don’t get involved in some things.”

“Tithian.”

“There are objects of power at the Pinnacle that sometimes disrupt the flow of magic,” Tithian said. “But they won’t be here long.”

Nicolas gave him a suspicious look.

“Please,” Tithian said. “Trust me.”

“I can’t help but wonder about something,” Nicolas said.

“What?” Tithian asked.

“I wonder what Kagan would do in my place. I mean, with the Council the way it is and the Barathosians invading?”

“I can’t say for certain, mind you. But I’m willing to lay good odds on him assassinating a diplomat, imprisoning his own people under a magical dome that slowly destroys the world, and eradicating anyone who disagrees with him. But what do I know?”

“Point taken.”

“When you’re tempted to ask yourself what
Kagan
would do…stop,” Tithian said. “Erindor has known a
Kagan
already. It’s time for the world to know a
Nicolas
.”

Nicolas nodded. “I will get Kaitlyn to the cichlos. And I will come back and set things straight here. You have my word.”

“There is something I must do in your absence,” Tithian said. “I have loyal contacts in Tildem. They work for me…in a sense.”

“What does that mean? Spy stuff?”

Tithian waved his hand as if to tell Nicolas to speak quietly.

“I trust you to sort it out,” Nicolas said.

“Lady Kaitlyn,” Tithian said as he bowed.

When the door closed behind him, Nicolas put his arm around Kaitlyn.

“I know this is all crazy,” Nicolas said. “But we’ll get through this together. The people I’m taking you to, they’ll know what to do.”

“I hope so,” Kaitlin said.

<

CHAPTER SIX

¹
The Divine Plan

²
The Tree of Life grew to a wondrous height, drawing the gaze of The Power.
³
But the Power looked upon the Tree and was repulsed, for chaos and wickedness had engulfed it.
⁴
The Power drew the gods unto himself, and Arin spake:

⁵
“Why have these great and terrible powers manifested themselves within us?”

⁶
“We shall bring beauty to the Tree, children,” The Power said.
⁷
“We shall embrace the chaos and wickedness and call it Good.
⁸
And in so doing, the Tree shall become beautiful in our eyes.”

⁹
“Your plan is wise, Father,” Arin said.
¹⁰
“Bestow all of your power unto me and I will do your will.”
¹¹
And so The Power extended his hands and planted his essence into Arin.

- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, attributed to the prophet Habakku

Origines Multiversi, Emergentiae 5:1-11

The Ancient Religarian word for “to plant” (tabad’ul) is synonymous with “to transfer”. Are we, then, to interpret this to mean The Power became powerless? Hardly. The Power retained enough essence to split the Tree of Life into two halves, as we see in a subsequent chapter of the Origines. It would be unwise to think The Power transferred all of himself into Arin. But the question remains, just how much of The Power resides within Arin?

- Coteon of the Steppes, “Coteonic Commentaries on the Origines Multiversi” (circa 520 RL)

Aelron couldn’t be anywhere near this festival when
Constable Chicanery
discovered the corpses of that Council magus and his companion. That meant getting out of this village. Undetected if possible.

Wagon wheels churned mud on the west end of the village, slowed by the growing downpour. Four adda pulled a large wagon that towed a flat trailer covered with a canvas tarp.

Odd. One adda should have been enough to handle that load.

Aelron merely had to make his way across the village center, under the festival awning, and out onto the eastern road.

But he couldn’t. The words of the dead magus were too specific to ignore.

Garrison commander.

The wagon train was having a tough time of it. Whatever was in the last wagon sank the cart into the mud up to its axle when it entered the village center.

Aelron glanced around the circle of buildings.

Across the festival grounds, thirty or forty paces away, was a sturdy building with a tiled roof.

That must be it. The building serving as the current garrison headquarters.

He lingered, uncertain whether he would draw more attention walking in the open or ducking from tent to tent. He’d lost track of the constable and didn’t want any surprises.

One of the adda roared as the team heaved the wagon train out of the mud. Someone wearing a tall hat and thick chain of office ran from a festival tent to the wagon.

Constable Chicanery. There you are.

This changed things. With the constable hassling the wagon driver—probably warning the adda about
churlishness
—Aelron should have no problem heading straight for the building.

He strode under the festival canopy in the village center. Now was the time to move.

Music started up as the rain beyond the awning intensified, but a nearby lightning strike and thunderclap caused some in the crowd to scream and jump, including a musician. When the other band members stopped yelling at the startled man, they started playing again, and once more Aelron threaded his way through the crowd of dancing villagers.

Fifteen paces to the end of the awning.

Aelron drew his hood over his head, pulling it down over his forehead as far as it would go. When he dropped his arms, a woman in an orange dress grabbed him and spun him around, dancing in time to the music. He went along with it for a couple of spins before releasing her into the arms of another dancer.