Necromancer Awakening (47 page)

The sound of shouting and hooves grew louder as a larger group of Religarians approached from behind the first. The first patrol must have been nothing more than a scouting party.

Nicolas raised another penitent.

When the namocea passed there was a surge of necropotency. Something had changed. There was more ambient power than there should have been. People were dying nearby and he couldn’t see how or why.

Several Religarians fell from their mounts, unseated by arrows that punctured their light armor. Within moments the edge of the cliff was swarming with Tildem soldiers and undead.

I’m not the only necromancer here
.

Nicolas didn’t see where the help had come from, but if they were attacking the Religarians, then they were his allies. He combined his attack with theirs and went after the larger force, pulling men from their saddles with ropes of necropotency.

He wielded necropotency instinctively, willing it into shapes and patterns governed by the ebb and flow of battle.

He looked around for the other necromancers that must be there. There had to be a small army of them, based on the number of undead. He picked out the translucent necromantic links, using the trick he learned in Aquonome, and saw several blue lines extending to some point behind him.

The last Religarian fell, and Nicolas exhaled.

A man cleared his throat. “What is the Prime Duty of a necromancer?” the familiar-sounding voice asked.
Mujahid!

Nicolas smiled. “The Prime Duty of a necromancer is to raise the dead and help them achieve purification.”

Nicolas turned and saw Mujahid smiling back at him in front of a dozen or more archers. He wore a brown robe, unlike any he had seen before. It had a hood that looked big enough to cover four heads, and it hung half way down his back.

“And how is the old siek these days?”

Nicolas embraced Mujahid.

“You should have told me about the cichlos,” Nicolas said. “I thought you were dead, by the way.”

“No,” Mujahid said. He stepped back and placed both hands on Nicolas’s shoulders. “It was I who thought
you
were dead. And I had far better cause to believe it. When the talisman went dark….” He shook his head. “I didn’t know until a few days ago that you were alive. I’d love to hear how you managed that little trick of concealment.”

Mujahid didn’t know? But he’d been to Aquonome too. Was there anything else Mujahid didn’t know about the cichlos?

It was strange seeing his old teacher. It felt as if several lifetimes had passed since he last saw the man, and in a way that was true. He had learned his place in the universe since then, and discovered what his purpose was.

“How’d you get out of Caspardis?”

Mujahid’s face became serious. “With help from a guard.”

Nicolas understood. He didn’t need the details. “I learned a lot from the cichlos.”

“Obviously,” Mujahid said. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at Nicolas’s robe. “Does the siek know you have that or did you abscond with it when you left Aquonome?”

Nicolas turned his gaze toward the yellow sky. “I have to bring that thing down. One way or another.”

“We are of one mind. I’d like you to meet someone. Commander Yuli, Guard Captain of the Rotham Militia.”

The woman named Yuli approached and nodded. This woman was no stranger to battle. He could see it in her walk. Confidant strides. Every step had a purpose. Just like the countless warriors he’d raised from the dead.

“Nicolas Ardirian,” Nicolas said, extending his hand for Yuli to shake. “Necromancer…and Heir to the Obsidian Throne.”

Mujahid looked at him with surprise on his face.

Yuli took Nicolas’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Well met, Magus Nicolas. Do you have news of the siege at Arin’s Watch?”

“There is no siege,” Nicolas said. “My penitents saw a cloud of demons that came out of nowhere and destroyed everything in sight. Well, one saw demons, the other saw blades. I saw it through their eyes, and I still don’t know which one is right. It was the fog from hell, though, I’ll tell ya that much.”

Mujahid and Yuli exchanged an odd look.

“We saw the very same cloud,” Mujahid said. “It lifted the siege of Rotham as well.”

“Siek Lamil told me about a smaller barrier that protects the Pinnacle,” Nicolas said. “Can we get through it?”

“If we have the key, yes.”

“Say what?” Nicolas asked.

“Remember the
tithe
I said you’d need?”

Nicolas thought back. Mujahid
had
spoken about a “tithe from Pilgrim’s Landing” back in Caspardis.

“You have to present the priests at Pilgrim’s Landing with a gift in order to get into the Pinnacle,” Mujahid said. “A tithe. The priests at the Great Temple take the tithe and
bless
it…or so Erindor believes.”

Yuli’s posture stiffened.

“They place the tithe and a small orb, no larger than my fist, into a locked container and give it back to the pilgrim to take to the Pinnacle. The orb is the key.”

“Looks like we need one of those orbs,” Nicolas said.

“I’ll handle the tithe,” Mujahid said.

“We can find a ship in Arin’s Watch, now that the siege is lifted,” Yuli said.

Mujahid tugged at his brown robe. “I brought some extras along. They’ll help us blend in.”

Nicolas looked at the dead Religarians and the Prime Duty echoed in his mind. The next few hours would last several hundred years. “Let’s clean this mess up and be off to Pilgrim’s Landing.”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Nicolas watched as Pilgrim’s Landing, and the statue of Arin, grew larger in the distance.

The island was an enormous rock, jutting up from the sea all spiked and jagged, like a bunch of skyscrapers packed too close together. There was no way to avoid it if they wanted to. The Sea of Arin funneled all ships to the southern dock, forcing them between crags sharp enough to tear a hole in the hull of the ship. The only way around the island was through it or over it.

Pilgrim’s Landing grew out of the face of the island itself. Several stone-carved piers along the southern dock formed platforms where ships could tie their mooring lines. A large ship anchored along the northern dock, which was visible less than a mile north of the southern dock, rocking back and forth with the swell of the sea. The face of the rocky island was peppered with arched passageways and ornately-barricaded landings that protruded from tunnels entering the mountainside. At the top of the mountain the gargantuan statue of Arin, wearing his great winged helm, was carved out of the rock face, and the largest landing of all jutted out from the mountainside next to its right. The helm was a translucent stone that reminded Nicolas of quartz.

“The Temple of Arin,” Mujahid said as he gazed toward the giant statue. “The Great Orb once illuminated the helm from within, like a beacon. Now….” Mujahid stopped and sighed. “We’ll be docking soon. Change into the extra priest’s robes.”

Nicolas thought back to the voices under Aquonome and wondered if one of those voices was Arin. Mujahid had to be told, just in case, and now was as good a time as any.

“I’ve been to the Plane of Death, Mujahid.”

Mujahid’s eyes narrowed. “I missed our banter, boy, but we have precious little time—”

“Zubuxo is missing. I think he and the other gods are
inside
the barrier. And it has something to do with the unborn kids I saw in the Plane of Death.”

“And I thought you were crazy before—”

“The hellwraiths take them. The life magic takes—”

“Hellwraiths?” Mujahid snorted. “Can’t be hellwraiths.”

“Listen. It takes everything we do as priests and…
undoes
it.”

“The Abaddonian Gates are sealed. Whatever you saw, they weren’t hellwraiths.”

“I don’t know about any Abaddonian gates, but do white-eyed evil bastards with black whips and no legs who come and drag your ass off ring a bell?”

Mujahid scratched his chin. “Those are hellwraiths.” He swore. “This changes everything.”

“Oh no it don’t. I’m still taking that barrier out.”

“The hellwraiths are
my
business to deal with. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“What would be so soon?”

“Just find the Great Orb. You’ll know what to do. You saw what happened in Paradise.”

“That’s what worries me. That orb is my only way home.”

Mujahid spent the next few minutes giving Nicolas details of the Pinnacle’s layout, including a description of the hallway leading to the sanctuary; polished stone and portraits of old archmages. As large as Mujahid claimed the place was, the Great Orb’s sanctuary wasn’t going to be difficult to find. It was a straight path, if he took the right entrance.

As they drew closer to the dock, Nicolas slipped a large brown robe over his own, and Mujahid inspected him.

“Good,” Mujahid said. “Some Arinian priests take a vow of silence. You’re one of them. So shut up for a change and let me do the talking.”

“Nice.”

“They won’t trouble us. I’ll give them some gold, they’ll give us a tithing box. But, take this dagger just in case. Hide it like this for now.” Mujahid showed him how to use the sleeve for concealment.

It wasn’t getting to the Pinnacle that worried Nicolas anymore. It was whether he’d have the strength to do what needed doing once he got there.

Nicolas stared out over the ship’s bow toward a yellow dome that stretched across the horizon and several hundred feet into the air.

The Pinnacle barrier.

Somewhere under that dome was Archmage Kagan. His father.

But not my
dad.

His dad would never be capable of bringing a world to ruin to suit his ego. Dr. Murray; the man who dished out food at a soup kitchen when he wasn’t excavating archaeological sites. His dad; the man who adopted him as a teenager when everyone else just waited for him to turn eighteen and leave St. John’s children’s home for good. No, his dad could never sit on a throne and exalt himself while the rest of the world decayed around him. Even Siek Lamil was more of a father figure to him than Kagan could ever be.

I wonder what Kagan looks like.

It was a stray thought, but one he couldn’t help. The man was, after all, his father. Were they the same height? Did they have the same wavy hair that grew wavier with length? Maybe the same nose, narrow with a slightly pronounced bridge?

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the barrier. Any thought of similarity between him and the tyrant disgusted him. The feeling of wanting to be anywhere but here overwhelmed him, but that just made him angry with himself for even considering it. He opened his eyes and let the light from the Pinnacle barrier flow into him.

I ain’t going anywhere until this is done.

He took a deep breath and studied the barrier once more.

Choppy waves disappeared into its base without as much as a splash. He hoped the ship would pass through without it killing them, but the more he thought about it the more he realized
not
passing through
wasn’t the thing to fear. The siek never said the cichlos couldn’t enter the barrier…he said they vanished when they tried.

Three buoys rose out of the sea as black shadows against the yellow dome. That must be how they regulate traffic through the barrier. The buoys marked two channels for ships, one for entering the Pinnacle and one for leaving.

Nicolas stood closer to Mujahid as the ship approached the barrier. He didn’t know the range on that tithe box, and he didn’t want to learn the hard way.

The ship’s bow entered the yellow wall and the barrier crept toward him. Everything became simple. All he had to do was wait.

He closed his eyes as the barrier surrounded them. Necropotency surged around him like a whirlpool, and he opened his eyes, afraid he’d see the entire crew dead on the deck, but no one had died. He saw the ship and the crew, as well as Mujahid standing next to him. But everything else was the same shade of bright yellow. The uniformity was such that there was no way to tell how far it extended, or if it extended at all. The only evidence of distance was the space between him and the bow and the crew members.