Necromancer Awakening (11 page)

Tithian opened a small room adjacent to the main bedroom. The small box that contained the Talisman hadn’t been disturbed in forty years. He retrieved the box and set it on a small table next to Kagan.

Three metallic clasps held the box closed, and each clasp radiated a yellow light in the shape of a key. Tithian waved his hand over the clasps and gave a sigh of relief.

“It hasn’t been opened,” Tithian said.

“Unlock it.”

Tithian released power into the key sigil he carried in his sigil pouch and the box sprung open. He looked into the box and felt his heart race.

Kagan leaned over the box and swore.

“I don’t understand,” Tithian said.

Kagan pulled the talisman out and held it next to Tithian’s. They were identical in every way, save one—Tithian’s talisman radiated light and heat, but the talisman in the box emitted none.

“You were duped by a Mukhtaar Lord,” Kagan said.

“But it was identical to mine when—”

Comprehension dawned. Of
course
it had been identical! The heir was already gone by the time Lord Mujahid was banished, so both
real
talismans would have been inactive. An inactive
fake
, worn by a savvy Mukhtaar Lord, would have passed for the real thing with no way to tell the difference.

“Holy One—”

“I have a task for you.”

“You can trust me.”

Kagan waved the comment away and smiled. “Your trustworthiness was never in question. You’re a man of faith. I know you understand that your salvation depends on obeying my will.”

Tithian’s skin grew cold.

“Take your agents to the Shandarian Union, and Destroy Paradise.”

“My agents are capable, but my duties here require—”

“Find the entrance to the Mukhtaar Estate. It will be hidden somewhere within Paradise. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Kagan walked to the door of the chambers, but turned as he reached the threshold.

“That orb,” Kagan said. “Either capture it or destroy it.”

“Paradise is protected by barrier magic. My trip may be a short one.”

“You’re not the only one with spies,
Warlock
. The barrier will come down.”

Kagan turned back to the door. “I am a merciful man, Tithian. But if you fail me again, I fear the gods may demand a penance. As your confessor, understand that I will take no pleasure in you living the remainder of your days without skin.”

Kagan left without closing the door behind him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A sharp slap tore Nicolas out of a sound sleep and he drew back to punch the offender.

When he sat up, Mujahid was standing in the doorway more than ten feet away.

“How did you do that?”

“Like this,” Mujahid said. His eyes glowed and another invisible slap hit Nicolas.

“Hey—”

“It was a hand on your face or a boot up your arse. I chose the one I thought you’d prefer.”

“Real nice.”

“You stick out like a virgin in a whore house, boy.” He nodded toward the stone wardrobe. “Get dressed. Meet me in the training hall when you’re done. Know where that is?”

Nicolas rubbed his face. “You told me yesterday.”

“Did I now? Well…go where I
told
you, then.”

Something had changed. Nicolas thought the old man had started warming up yesterday.

Mujahid left and a skeletal penitent closed the door behind him.

“Asshole,” Nicolas said.

An invisible slap sent Nicolas flying off the bed.

“All right already!” Nicolas said. He heard a chuckle and footsteps fading.

He yanked open the wardrobe. A sour, musty smell permeated the cabinet.
Great. Moldy clothes.

A single white robe hung inside with a white piece of fabric draped over it. Must be a belt, but there was something odd about it. It was wider in places, and flexible.

He took his pair of black pants off and tossed them in the corner of the wardrobe, but he kept his boots on. When he changed into the robe, he felt like he was swimming in it.

At least he left the belt.

He tied it around his waist, but couldn’t figure out where the wide portions should go. They seemed comfortable in the back, where they draped down below his waist. The old man hadn’t put any underwear in the wardrobe, so Nicolas didn’t wear any. He gave the belt one last tug and ran out of the room.

A large doorway stood before him on the third level of the building. A mix of open and closed coffins lined the sides of the room beyond, and dusty cobwebs covered the entire place, as if its owners had abandoned it decades ago. The room smelled from centuries of burning candle residue, and wax hung like stalactites from the candelabra that stood between the coffins.

A grating noise made him turn. Mujahid was sliding the cover off one of the coffins.

“Real funny, Mujahid,” he said.

Mujahid kept his eyes on the coffin. “Good. You’re an early riser. You did well last night, boy.”

“You can wake someone up without smacking them.”

Mujahid looked at Nicolas’s clothes for the first time and raised his eyebrow.

“What in Arin’s name are you wearing?” Mujahid said. “Those aren’t the robes I gave you.”

“And just try putting a boot up my ass and see what happens.”

“I see,” Mujahid said. He closed his eyes and shook his head. An odd smile formed on his face.

“So you do think this is funny?” Nicolas said.

“Any time now, brother,” Mujahid said.

The sound of rushing air filled the room, along with the cracking pops of tiny releases of static electricity. A foot stepped out from thin air between them, attached to a black-robed man that followed it. It was like watching someone step out from behind a mirror. The man was laughing and clapping his hands as he approached Mujahid with his back toward Nicolas.

“Brother,” Mujahid said, shaking his head. “Torturing postulants again?”

When Nuuan turned around, Nicolas had to question his own eyesight.

Mujahid and Nuuan were identical twins.

“Postulant Nicolas,” Mujahid said. “Meet my brother. Nuuan Lord Mukhtaar.”

“He’s a little long in the tooth for a postulant,” Nuuan said. “Don’t you think?”

“You didn’t have to dress him like a woman, brother.”

“What? A woman?” Nicolas asked.

“Look at him,” Nuuan said. “He doesn’t know teet from arse, and you think he’s the one?”

“Excuse me…the one
what
?” Nicolas said.

Mujahid gave him an anxious look of warning.

“I think you’d do well to get your head out of all these books and your arse out of Paradise,” Nuuan said. “Now that I think on it, getting your head out of your arse wouldn’t hurt either.”

“There’s too much to be done.”

“Hey,” Nicolas said. “I’m standing right here, and I asked you a question.”

Mujahid’s eyes grew wide, and he held up his hand.

Nuuan’s expression changed from joy to a mixture of shock and rage.

“On your knees, postulant!” Nuuan’s eyes flashed white and something forced Nicolas to the ground by the shoulders. “By the sweat on Arin’s festering—”

“Brother,” Mujahid said, placing his hand on Nuuan’s shoulder. “Please.”

Nuuan exhaled a long breath. “Control your postulant, or I will.”

“He is unfamiliar with our customs. It was
my
fault, not his.”

Nuuan’s face relaxed. “You’d wager the clan on him? After what we did to unify it?”

“After what
you
did?”

Nuuan scowled. “I may have been the blade, brother, but you were the hilt.”

Mujahid looked down. “What’s done is done. I’ve studied that prophecy for more years than I care to admit.”

“Kagan isn’t going to wait for him to be ready.”

“Leave the worrying to me. It’s time to head south.”

Nuuan raised an eyebrow. “Tildem?”

Mujahid nodded.

Nuuan whistled. “There’s no going back once I open my robe and flash the Pinnacle.”

“I know.”

“I hope you do, because when it starts, the two of us may be the only ones fighting. This boy-girl over here looks more apt to trip over the power than wield it.”

Nicolas wanted to say something but thought better of it.

“King Donal is our best choice,” Mujahid said.

“The Union—”

“Can’t be trusted. And you underestimate Nicolas’s abilities, by the way.”

Nicolas wasn’t expecting Mujahid to come to his defense.

“Malvol’s festering cock, brother,” Nuuan said. “My arse has welts from that flea-bitten
adda
they gave me in Agera, and now it’s off to Tildem?”

“Blasphemy, brother.”

Nuuan waved his hand. “The gods can—”

“Would you rather train him and I go to Tildem?”

“One day,” Nuuan said. “Just one day.”

Mujahid smirked.

“You’re denying the fair women of Paradise their greatest treasure,” Nuuan said. He frowned at Mujahid. “How uncharitable of you, priest.”

Mujahid smiled. “The brothel has had enough of your treasure this year.”

Nicolas adjusted his belt.

“That isn’t a cincture, you little girl,” Nuuan said. “It’s a supporter.”

Nicolas looked down at the belt and comprehension dawned on him. Nuuan had given him a bra, and…judging by the looks of it…a training bra.

“The room over there, boy,” Mujahid said, nodding to his left. “You’ll find some robes and sandals. Take anything that fits.”

“And remember this, Postulant,” Nuuan said “There are necromancers who would sever their own cocks to learn the arts from one of us.”

“Nuuan,” Mujahid said.

“You are a postulant of Clan Mukhtaar now,” Nuuan said. “Learn what you can, and learn it well, boy. The path you’re on—”

“Enough, brother,” Mujahid said. He shook his head. “Too much too soon. Not good.”

Nuuan chuckled. “You sound like old
fish breath
.”

The two men embraced

“Be careful this time,” Mujahid said. “This is different.”

Nuuan nodded and walked away.

Mujahid looked at Nicolas. “Unless you’re getting in touch with your feminine side, I suggest you change your clothes.”

“Oh I’ll change,” Nicolas said. “But I’m keepin’ my boots.”

Nicolas emerged wearing a long brown robe and his brown boots.

Mujahid had removed the covers from the remaining coffins and was holding what looked like a polished femur.

“Before I teach you to summon, tell me what you think necromancy is,” Mujahid said as he sat on the floor.

The bone was unnerving, disgusting, but Nicolas joined Mujahid on the floor anyway.

“It’s got something to do with raising the dead.”

“True. What else?”

“Slapping people with magic and dressing them up like girls?”

Mujahid’s expression grew serious.

“Being from another world is both good and bad. It’s good because you come here free of preconceived notions about this world. Therefore, you’re in the unique position of being objective. But you lack the most basic understanding of how this world functions. The world you’re from understands the concept of sacred, yes?”

“We have religion.”

“Excellent. How do you practice this religion?”

“It’s not like there’s just one.”

Mujahid raised an eyebrow.

“There are billions of people on my world, and they all believe different things.”

“Billions of religions?” Mujahid dismissed the comment with a wave.

“There’s a handful of big ones. And they’re broken into smaller ones.”

“But they all remain the same at their core, no?”

Nicolas chuckled. “Not even close. Some worship a single god, and others believe there are many. Hell, if you landed on Earth and flashed those eyes of yours, somebody would worship your sorry old ass too.”

“A world that believes in more than one truth.” Mujahid shook his head. “Are contradictions a normal part of life there?”

Nicolas thought back to the nuns who raised him. They wouldn’t be happy with the way he was answering these questions.

“I don’t know,” Nicolas said. “It’s kind of complicated. Religion was never one of my strengths.”

“Men often complicate the truth to further their own goals.”