Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (43 page)

Her back stiffened, and she crossed her arms.

“Are you finished
examining
me?” the woman said.

The Barathosian corpses vanished, and a silence descended on the plaza.

“This isn’t over,” Aelron said, staring at the dirt where the corpses had left impressions.

“We have, at most, two hours before that wall comes down,” she said. “You’re going to die if you don’t follow me. That false bravado of yours won’t save you this time.”

“Whatever bravado I have, it isn’t false,” Aelron said. “The time you have to tell me why I should follow you grows shorter by the second.”

She lifted her hands, palms up, and looked to the side. It was as if she were asking the fountains if they believed what they were hearing.

Aelron didn’t care for the tone of that gesture.

The woman shook her head and started walking away from the plaza, passing him without another glance.

“If you survive, we’ll speak again,” she said.

As she walked toward the boulevard, her image faded. No. He could see her on the periphery of his vision, but only if he looked away.

Has to be that festering cloak.

That Barathosian had appeared right behind him. Had it not been for the woman, he’d be dead. And there was no denying her unnatural agility. Maybe humility would be the better part of valor in this instance.

“Wait,” Aelron said.

The woman stopped, but she didn’t turn around.

“You’re right,” Aelron said.

She remained still.

“I need to warn my friends,” Aelron said.

“Your friends are
exactly
where we need them to be,” she said. “Right now, I need someone like
you
with
me
.”

“What do you know about my friends?”

The woman started walking again, faster this time, and she was heading farther into the city instead of toward the wall.

Aelron hurried to catch up with her.

“Name’s Aelron.”

“Good for you.”

“You have a name?”

“Yes,” she said.

He’d had enough already, and they hadn’t made it a hundred yards. He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her toward him.

“Look,” Aelron said. “All I’m trying—”

When the stars faded from Aelron’s field of vision, he was lying on his back in the dirt, holding his jaw. The woman was squatting at his side with two daggers crossed over his throat. Her turquoise eyes were fierce. A small part of him wanted to shrink away.

“Touch me again, Elroy, and you’ll not live long enough to bleed out. I say this once, as a courtesy. Because I’m curious about you.”

“It’s
Aelron
.”

“Like I said,
good for you
. Now follow or leave. Those are your only two options.”

He would have paid good money to watch her and Master Nigel spar.

When she released him, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. His side stung a little worse than before, but he’d had worse.

She led him out of the plaza and around a corner, then gestured for him to stop.

“You’ve been following me for hours,” Aelron said.

The woman chuckled. “I’ve been following you far longer than that. We’ll discuss it later. Morrigan, by the way.”

“What?”

“My name is Morrigan.”

“Well met. Now, why are you following me?”

Morrigan ignored the question, ran to the corner of the next building, and peered into a street running parallel to the main boulevard. She waved for him to follow.

The dilapidated buildings across the street bore damage too old to have been caused by the Barathosians. It was a striking contrast to the way it looked years ago.

The last time Aelron had been to Caspardis, it was pristine. He was a child back then. A frightened, nervous child on his first journey away from home, waiting to be introduced to the local Shandarian Ranger recruiter.

He remembered waiting for hours. And when the recruiter—a ranger named Sergeant Saren—had arrived, Aelron cried when he saw the ranger’s feline eyes.

“Don’t worry, child,” Saren had said. “I’m more like a kitten than a big cat. And I promise you, our big cats won’t hurt you. They don’t hurt good boys. And I can tell you’re a good boy. You’ll be learning all of our secrets before long.”

“Can I ride an adda-ki like you do?” Aelron had said.

Saren smiled and pulled a coin from his pocket. “Which do you like the most, adda or adda-ki?”

“Adda-ki! They’re invisible! And nothing can kill them!”

Saren flipped the coin. “Well you’re in luck. Adda-ki it is. But here’s your first ranger secret.” Saren gestured for Aelron to move in closer. In a whisper, he said, “Adda-ki aren’t invisible. Rangers
make
them invisible.”

Aelron’s eyes had widened at the revelation.

Saren placed the coin in Aelron’s palm. “Don’t you lose this now. It’s special. It tells the future.”

“No it doesn’t!”

Saren lifted Aelron into his arms and placed him on the back of an adda-ki.

“See?” Saren had said. “It told me you’d eventually ride an adda-ki, and here you are.”

Aelron had looked at the coin with reverence and tucked it into his pocket.

“I’ll protect it always!” he said. “I swear!”

The ringing sound of a large bell brought Aelron’s mind back to the present.

He’d broken that oath to Saren, and the missing coin accused him like the phantom of past sins.

“The garrison is preparing for the next attack,” Morrigan said. She glanced to her right, where a bunch of boxes and crates stood against a wall. “In here.”

Morrigan moved the empty crates and nodded for Aelron to help. When they finished, a narrow metal door stood before them.

Aelron followed her through the door into a dark, dusty warehouse that smelled of mildew and dirt. He had to suppress a sneeze as a cloud of dust billowed up from the floor where he’d kicked a crate by accident.

The warehouse was empty, except for some crates and boxes. A table on the far side of the room had a chair on one side and a door on the other.

But worse than the dust and mildew was the vile stench of death that permeated the room.

“What is this place?” Aelron asked. He brought his fist up to his nose to block the smell.

“A safe house. The Sodality owns it, though we haven’t used it in years.”

“Sodality?”

Morrigan looked at him as if he’d asked which way was up. “You really
don’t
know, do you?”

“I’m not exactly from around here,” Aelron said. “Well…I am, and I’m not. It’s a long story.”

“Give me the King’s brief.”

“My father sent me away when I was little. He’s dead. Now I’m back.”

“Turian Exports Company,” Morrigan said. “Heard of it?”

“No.”

“The Moon Lake Sodality. You’ve never heard of that
either
?”

Aelron shrugged. “If I have, it wasn’t memorable enough to stay with me.”

“Well that certainly explains a thing or two.”

“Exports. Like what, Shandarian powder?”

“No! Not
that
! Do I look like a powder dealer to you?”

“Whatever you are, you’re far more dangerous than a powder dealer.”

Morrigan headed toward the door on the other side of the warehouse and nodded for Aelron to follow.

The putrid scent intensified as they approached the door.

Morrigan gestured to the chair and pulled the door handle as Aelron sat.

“Wait here,” Morrigan said.

She covered her nose and mouth, then closed the door behind her.

A moment later she emerged with a spool, a needle, and a bottle of whiskey.

“Want to do this yourself, or shall I?” Morrigan asked.

He pulled his cloak open and lifted his shirt. Damned Barathosian got him good. The cut wasn’t deep, but it stretched too far back for him to reach it all.

“You’d better,” Aelron said. “Just…go easy.”

Morrigan knelt beside him and threaded the needle. When she was finished, she uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount of the peaty liquid on the needle and thread.

“Don’t pour too much,” Aelron said. “Doesn’t look like there’s enough as it is.”

“This isn’t for you.” Morrigan took a long drink.

“Oh great,” Aelron said. “A drunk physician is just what I need.”

“You’re in good hands, Elrob. Don’t worry.”

“It’s
Aelron
! How many times do I have to—ow!”

Searing hot pain shot up Aelron’s right side.

“For Arin’s sake, woman,
getting
stabbed
didn’t hurt that much!”

“Stay still, you big baby. This is going to
really
hurt, if you keep squirming.”

“Do you know what you’re doing, or are you guessing?”

“I’ve hunted and cleaned boar that didn’t squeal as much as you.”

Morrigan poked the needle through his skin again and Aelron winced.

By the time she finished, Aelron was pretty sure he’d rather bleed to death next time. His side was stiff, and every minor twist and turn made him fear he’d rip the stitches out. And the last thing he wanted was her coming at him with a needle again.

The fetid stench from whatever was behind that door wasn’t helping his mood either.

Morrigan stood and opened the door.

“You going to tell me what’s in the other room?” Aelron asked.

Morrigan handed him the bottle. “You’re going to need this.”

There was a swig or two left, so Aelron downed it. The spirits warmed his throat and lightened his mood a little.

Morrigan peeked through the door, then looked down at the floor.

“It began with small raid groups,” Morrigan said. “Three or four would appear out of thin air, rob a caravan, then disappear. But not just
any
caravan.
Military
caravans.”

Aelron thought back to the wagon he’d hidden in, and the strange soldiers that vanished right in front of him. Morrigan was telling the truth so far.

“The Sodality is in danger,” Morrigan said. “Kagan’s barrier did something. With the birth rate as low as it has been, we need everyone who is capable of surviving the training.”

Aelron folded his arms and stifled a wince from the tightness of his stitches.

“It’s why I’ve been tracking you,” Morrigan said. “That’s how the Sodality works. Someone like
me
finds someone like
you
. You run for your life because you think you’ve stepped into a nightmare. I catch you. You refuse to listen, and I pretend you’re not wasting my time for an hour or two. Eventually, your better judgment forces you to hear me out. But
we don’t have
two hours.”

“You don’t see me running, do you?”

“You don’t see the irony in that question?”

Morrigan squatted beside him until they were face to face. She had the same fierce expression as before.

“The Turian Exports Company is a cover for the Sodality,” Morrigan said. She paused, as if expecting a response. When no response came, she continued. “And judging from that stupid look on your face, you have no idea what in the six hells I’m talking about.”

Aelron remained silent. He wouldn’t allow awkwardness to force him into talking. That’s how people said things they’d later regret.

Morrigan pursed her lips and nodded as if he’d passed some sort of test. She stood.

“The Sodality is an ancient order of Zubuxo,” Morrigan said.

“You’re no priest,” Aelron said.

“And you’re not listening. I never
said
I was a priest. Priests bring people
back
from the dead. What we do is…For the love of Arin, didn’t your mother tell you tales to frighten you into obedience?
The
Tale of the Cloaked Demon
?
The Hellwraith and the Adda
?
Piercing the Veil
?”

“My mother died when I was little.”

Morrigan stammered. “Apologies.”

Aelron shook his head. “That was a long time ago. But what do you mean
someone like you
? What, exactly, am I
like
?”

“I know a kindred spirit when I see one. I know the
craft
when I see it, regardless of how poorly it’s been passed on. And I know you’re
long lived
.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s the only reason you still draw breath. That Council magus in Blackwood was my mark. My sacred duty. I wanted him
alive
…for a time. But because of what you did, I couldn’t
purge
him properly.”

“If you were there, you’d recall he killed
himself
.”

“I assume you stole Arinwool from the rangers?”

Aelron’s face went cold. Just how much
did
she know?

“Why were you after the magus?” Aelron asked.

Morrigan stared at him. “Not every human who walks this world has a human
soul
.”

“Now
you’re
the one telling tales.”

“You’ll have a different opinion when you glimpse beyond the veil. Demons don’t always have wings. Forget about the magus for now. I’ll teach you the rest later. What’s important, is
this
.”

She pulled a long black feather from her cloak.

“
This
is where the Barathosian’s power comes from,” Morrigan said. “
This
is how they travel.”

He took the feather from her and examined it. Twelve inches long. White quill with two black stripes. Tapered vane, also black. Narrow leading edge on one side of the vane and a wide trailing edge on the other—a flight feather. Ordinary in every possible way. He handed it back.

“It’s just a feather,” Aelron said.

“It’s much more. And I have proof. If you’ve seen them, you know the hats they wear, right?”

Aelron nodded.

“Have you ever seen a Barathosian without one?” Morrigan asked.

“They’ve never invited me to dinner, but I assume they take them off eventually.”

“I fought them outside of Tur. It’s no small thing when I tell you it was a challenge. But what’s important is what happens when they’re
not
wearing this feather. For weeks I watched them appear and disappear, often wearing different clothing, even different hats. But always the same black feather. Yesterday, there was another attack. Several appeared in this safe house. But they were scouts, not fighters. I concealed myself. One of them started shouting numbers, always decreasing. Sixty. Then Thirty. Then fifteen, and so on. Just before he reached zero, I knocked the feather from one of their hats. The man who owned it screamed horrifically. The others tried to retrieve it for him, but when the counting man reached zero, they all vanished. All except the one without the feather.”