Iosen’s eyes remained locked on the figure as it turned to face the room. Despite how the hood hung low over the man’s face, the room was well lit enough for Iosen to make out some details. The man’s skin looked…wrong…somehow. It was pasty white and desiccated, almost as if it had been dead for some time.
“This is the man who will deliver the Society to us?” he asked as he walked across the room. The voice sounded unnatural. The words were well formed, but there was an odd clicking every so often. Iosen placed the sound at last, and whatever color remained in his face fled then. The clicking was the sound of teeth striking together while forming certain words…because the man no longer had lips.
Iosen overcame his unease when he processed what the man had said. He shifted his eyes to Leuwyn and glared at his friend, saying, “You told him?”
“Told me?” the man said. “Do you honestly believe this king of yours developed so well-planned and cunning a stratagem? This imbecile needs servants to tell him which shoe goes on which foot.”
Iosen waited for the explosion of royal wrath at such an insult, but it never came. He turned to look at his friend and almost gaped. Leuwyn was cringing like a whipped dog.
“Your friend has been mine for many years now, Sivas,” the man said, drawing Iosen’s attention back to him, “and it is time you joined him.”
“But - but you’re…”
“Yes?” the man said. “Do you think you recognize me?”
“Black robes without runes,” Iosen said, staring at the man’s wrists. “There’s only one who wears black robes without runes.”
The man chuckled. It was dark and held no mirth. “It took the cur hours to realize who I am, and he didn’t believe it until I took him to the fortress. Now, say it. Who am I?”
“Y-you’re-” Iosen stopped and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm so he could speak in an even tone. “You’re the Necromancer of Skullkeep.”
“Very good, Sivas. Perhaps, you should be king.” The Necromancer directed a look at Leuwyn who cringed even more, if that were possible. “Yes. That possibility merits some thought. At the very least, I wouldn’t have to work so hard to explain what I wanted done.”
The Necromancer turned back to Iosen and indicated the plush armchairs near the silent hearth.
“Let us sit, Sivas, and you can tell me of your preparations to replace the Council of Magisters with one more amenable to royal oversight.”
The Necromancer took a few steps and helped himself to a seat, waiting for Iosen to do likewise. Iosen knew he had no choice and did as he was bidden. Just as Iosen was sitting in the armchair across from the Necromancer, the Black Robe turned his head toward Leuwyn and spoke.
“Be gone, cur; Sivas and I shall have no interruptions to our discussion.”
Chapter 15
Gavin found himself standing in a void. He could see nothing in any direction, and yet, he felt himself standing on something. As Gavin lifted his eyes from looking beneath his feet, he saw a man standing a short distance away; the man was not there a moment ago.
The man appeared young, maybe Gavin’s age or a little older, and his attire seemed familiar to Gavin. The fabric making up the attire was navy blue with black pinstripes. There was a jacket with three buttons and a vest beneath the jacket. Gavin could see a white shirt beneath the vest with a line of buttons that disappeared under the vest, and the man wore shiny, black shoes with laces.
His dark hair was styled in a series of spikes that leaned forward.
“Hello, Gavin. I hope my attire makes you feel a little more at home.”
“It seems familiar, but I can’t remember from where.”
“I see the old man took much from you. Greetings and well met. I am Lornithar, and I have a proposition for you.”
“‘Lornithar’ doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Lornithar gave him a flat look and sighed, saying, “A long time ago, I was driven from my rightful place as ruler of this world by the old ones and those they uplifted, and I will see my place restored. All those who serve me will be rewarded. As for the rest…well…every society needs chattel. You have it within yourself to be one of my greatest lieutenants, and I would have you at my side.”
“What of Kiri? Where does she fit into all this?”
“I’m afraid your slave and I-well, her family really-have unfinished business. There will be no such offers for her.”
Gavin nodded. “You said you had a proposition for me.”
“Yes. I can give you back all the old man took from you. Who you are, where you’re from, your daughter…all this I can return to you. All you have to do is agree to serve me, agree to become my agent within the Society of the Arcane.”
The ache, the yearning, to know who he was almost pushed Gavin into agreeing, yet a small voice in the back of his mind bade Gavin to wait.
“And what would you have me do, if I agreed to this proposition?”
“You would become my agent within the Society of the Arcane, as I said. Just sit back, bide your time, and collect information on the Society’s weaknesses in preparation for our strike. After all, you owe them nothing.”
It was a very tempting offer, but still, Gavin could not bring himself to say yes right then.
“You’re correct. I don’t owe the Society a thing, but I’m never one to make rash decisions. I’d like to consider the matter. Is there any way I can contact you?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. The expression he directed to Gavin wasn’t quite a glare, but it bore no welcome or warmth by any stretch of the imagination.
“There’s something else you should know. The wound you sustained will kill you; it’s the nature of the blade, you see. It drains life. If you agree to serve me, I can keep the blade at bay.”
“I appreciate the information, but it changes nothing. I still need to consider the offer.”
“Very well, but I’ll give you proof of my good faith, a small piece of who you are. One of mine will contact you.”
The man vanished, and Gavin’s awareness faded.
Chapter 16
Kiri once again stood in a sickroom beneath the Temple of Valthon, and once again, she watched over Gavin. Seeing him lying there on the cot, so pale…it twisted her guts. His right forearm wasn’t pale, though. A rope-like scar curved its way from elbow to wrist, and it was blacker than the deepest night. Kiri had watched it slowly expand and contract several times, almost like the tides.
“Hello, Kiri.”
Kiri turned and saw Ovir standing at the foot of Gavin’s cot. She jerked her chin toward Gavin as she said, “What’s wrong with his arm?”
“Think of it as a scar. Yes, it is an uncommon scar, but the weapon that made it is an uncommon blade. I fear Gavin is not long for this world.”
“What? Why?”
“Out of the many instances in which that type of blade has been used, I know of no more than a handful in which the victim lived. Even those few who did survive…well…they were never quite the same afterward.”
Movement darkened the room’s door, and both Kiri and Ovir turned to look. Marcus stood in the doorway. His eyes rested on Gavin for a time before he stepped inside and closed the door.
“How is he, Ovir?”
“His life-beat is strong, Marcus, but you can see for yourself the scar left by the Void-blade. He has not awoken yet.”
Marcus scowled and crossed his arms. “This is my fault, Ovir. I thought we had more time.”
“Marcus, you couldn’t have known this would happen, especially so soon after we found him.”
Kiri took the steps necessary to kneel at the left side of Gavin’s cot. She took his left hand in hers and bowed her head, saying, “Please, come back to us, Gavin. Come back to me.”