Necromancer Awakening (14 page)

The images swirled.

Nicolas was no longer the rage-filled argram. He was an observer this time, as if he were watching a movie play out on a screen in his mind’s eye. When the images sharpened into focus, he saw a woman.

The necropotency became a torrent of information and sensation.

The woman was in love, and it was a pure love that radiated through his entire being. She would be married tomorrow, and start her life as a chieftain’s wife.

But he knew, somehow, that what he was seeing would never be.

No. This isn’t possible
.

His mind worked with necropotency-enhanced speed, drawing connections between events with ever-increasing accuracy. She would never marry, because the argram killed her when she was a child. He tortured her after cutting off a leg and an arm, until the torment was no longer fun for him. She died a horrible death, writhing in agony from the venom that flowed through her veins.

Her marriage would never be. This woman would never be.

Fifteen years passed as he observed the woman from a distance, until one day she bore two sons of her own. She taught them how to read and write so that one day the oldest could take over for his father.

The oldest grew into a powerful man, waging war and protecting his people from the argram attacks. Nicolas followed the woman’s son through marriage, having children, running the village from day to day, and finally growing old and sick.

In a large building at the end of a muddy road that snaked its way between thatch-roofed houses, the woman’s son, now an old man, lay on his death bed.

A son who will never be, born of a woman who will never be. What’s happening to me?

“Take care of them, my son,” the old man said to a younger man holding his hand. “The argram rage against us because they fear us. And they have good cause. What have we ever brought them but pain? We started this many generations ago. We should have befriended them. Instead, we were selfish and greedy.”

“There is no way to reason with them. They are animals,” the younger man said.

“No. They are people. You will lead our people when I pass. Promise me you will lead them to peace, not war.”

“But father, the elders will never allow—”

“Promise me.” The old man’s grip tightened on the younger man’s hand, and his eyes burned with single-minded intent.

“By our ancestors, father. I will honor your final wish as if it were my own.”

After the death of the woman’s son, Nicolas walked beside the younger man, her grandson, for forty years, watching as he grew older and worked tirelessly to bring about the dying wish of his father. When the task was accomplished, he stood upon a raised platform and addressed the people of Lasin…his people.

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.

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.”