Rise of the Dead Prince (34 page)

“Shoot!”
said
Dor.

“We almost blew it there!”
answered Trent. Meier was quick to res
pond.

“No, no
…
this is good. Too much confidence could blow it also. We need to be cocky, but still look like we’re in over our head
…
which, of course, we are. Keep walking, boys. I think I better take this next one. Time to flex a little.”
From the distance, a series of booming footsteps moved into Meier’s path. Once it was within about a hundred yards, the three men got their first look at what could only have been a
real
anathema. It was a horrifying s
ight.

Where once there had been a human body, there was now only a monstrous form. In height it must have been at least eight feet, and it was perhaps half as wide. The anathema was a bulbous, veined abomination. The muscles that enveloped the creature were exaggerated to the point of being grotesque. In between the bulging shoulders, a gruesome, deformed head hung limply, leaking viscous liquid from its orifices. Dor and Trent couldn’t hide their looks of disgust. As for Meier, he merely gazed at the creature then walked forward as casually as he could manage. His knees felt a little shaky, but he managed to play this off. Everything in his normal nature wanted to walk
anywhere
but toward the monster. The anathema held the haft of a gigantic iron club in one hand, while the bulk of the weapon itself rested on the ground like some forgotten thing about to be dragged. It was a clean faceted thing with a head that looked like a long octagonal prism. There were no blades, knobs, or flanges that Meier could see. The more Meier stared, the more his mind wandered to the ability of the creature when it wielded such a thing. He knew that he needed to be very careful. He must not p
anic.

When the three men had halved the distance to the anathema, it screamed again and sprang into action. It hoisted the giant weapon effortlessly and began to march at a surprising speed to where Meier was. It did not run, but rather it walked with a series of rapid, unnatural jerking movements. Meier had a plan, one that had come to him on the spur of the moment. He held up his hand, and Dor and Trent stopped where they stood. Meier took two more steps forward, all the while feeling the power of the source rise in him. He only hoped it would work like he wanted. Some theatrics would be required, but Meier also knew the risk. With a large gesture, he stretched his arms and then brought them in front of his chest as though he were carrying an invisible
ball.

Meier’s eyes glowed brightly as he forced heat into his hands. He wasn’t quite sure what this would do, but he suddenly realized that he was going to be cutting it dangerously close. The thing closed the distance far quicker than he planned. The club was poised to come down in one terrible strike that would undoubtedly destroy him completely. He knew without knowing that not even a barrier would hold such immense force at
bay.

Now or never!
he thought uncontrollably, passing his energy to his right hand. Pulling it back, he then thrust his open hand forward with a violent push. Nothing happened. The source was hard to control! Meier felt a terrible rush of panic, and indeed so did Trent and Dor. They began to take a step forward to intercept the creature, but they knew it was too late. The thing was three steps away. Meier’s eyes grew wide. He had failed to heed Raven’s final warning. There was no time to think, so he didn’t. Meier threw both his hands forward desperately and thought of intense heat. Instantaneously, and from nowhere, a giant cone of flame shot from his h
ands!

The anathema halted abruptly, suddenly bathed in flame. It loosed a deafening roar and then began to writhe around. Despite this, it continued to walk forward sluggishly, preparing to bring the club down. That was when the first spell finally hit. The flaming giant suddenly exploded outward into a thousand disgusting pieces. Blazing filth scattered in all directions forward of Meier, leaving an ebullient ichor wherever it la
nded.

The three men couldn’t help but show their surprise. Dor and Trent stood with their eyes wide and their ears ringing from the booming explosion. A few seconds passed, then Meier remembered he had to quickly recover himself and get back into character. He casually folded his arms and let out a raspy, sinister laugh, all the while surveying the damage he had wrought. Sloppy, perhaps, but there was no helping it
now.

“I reckon you just got yourself noticed,”
said an amazed T
rent.

“I ain’t sure if that was a good thing, but it sure was somethin’ to watch,”
said Dor in turn, equally astounded. Both men covered their emotions as best they could and then promptly focused on behaving obsequiously again. Meier allowed himself a wry smile, trying to keep it somewhat disinterested. He knew that he must not show camaraderie with his friends! Sensing this thought, the two men remembered themselves and quickly knelt and bowed. Meier simply started walking forward again, acting as though they were not t
here.

44
A Lady’s Favor

S
uvira stared on with eyes unblinking. Her eyebrow was slightly raised. Lovo gazed on as well, though his expression was decidedly impassive. He could not see his daughter’s face through the mask, but he could guess well enough what was there. Suvira was his child, after all, for whatever that meant in the Beol
Clan.

She had always been difficult. No one could teach her anything without being bombarded by her questions as they did so, and he knew it all too well. She simply had to know about
everything
that popped into her head
,
no matter how trivial the information was. Indeed, it was the things of littlest import that she seemed the most fascinated with, partly because no one cared, but mostly because no one knew them. Strangely enough, this often lead to her having no real interest in many of the things that she had been taught were quite important. In other words, she knew only what she wanted to know, and she learned only what suited her. Had she not proven to be a genius, Lovo quite possibly would have succumbed to his occasional desire to kill her as a c
hild.

He ruminated on the present situation. What a cruel twist of fate it was to be in her thrall at such a time. On she stared, fixedly, at the one thing that she could not resist
…
a
mystery.
If nothing else, Meier was certainly that. What was more, Lovo found that he too was fascinated by the boy. It was a fascination that grew the more he watched him. If he could feel that way, he could only scarcely imagine what his daughter was thinking. He was forced to witness the shameful condition from the outside, despite her utterly ineffective attempts to hide it. Lovo began to rue his earlier words to her regarding Meier. Something wasn’t quite right. He did not know what it was exactly, but it filled him with a sense of muted p
anic.

From the moment he appeared at the gate, he had held her attention completely. He was so different than what they had expected, most especially so because of the pathetic state they had first seen him in. It was because of this, and of course the pending invasion, that she had not deemed him significant enough to even look at. It was true that the question of his heart beating remained a torturous enigma, but it was also a thing that present events had rendered unimportant. Now it seemed that everything about him had changed, and all of it for the
better.
At first glance, she had thought him to be nothing more than some farcical coxcomb, obliviously strutting to his demise. Even then her attention was raptly fixed on him. She had waited eagerly for his imminent downfall, craving the amusement that such an episode would provide. Even so, there were things about him that deepened the already existing mystery around him further. For one, she wondered how he had learned the ritual of raising without instruction. For another, she speculated on the anomalous results of his effort. Looking at his risen minions, she was both puzzled and pleased by them. They had the feel of the higher dead, but they had not changed shape. Initially, she had thought they must be some adulterated attempt at making an anathema, which to her had been both interesting and pitiful at the same
time.

Still, he should not have been able to produce anathemas, flawed or not, all on his own. He was more than just a natural, he was a
genius.
It was almost tragic to destroy him, but this sentiment was easily outweighed by the satisfaction she would get from watching it happen. After all, he was nothing more than a self-important trespasser, presumptuously marching to her home uninvited. Did he mean to challenge her? The thought was so laughable that it bordered on pathetic. Yes, she had resolved to take pleasure in his extirpation. She had not needed to wait for long, for the swaggering prince soon encountered one of her elite u
nits.

Could he and his half-baked anathemas, if indeed that is what they were, handle such a force? She thought probably not. Surely, if nothing else, it would be enough to put him in his place. She had watched closely to see the moment that his smug expression faded. It would have been delicious
…
but fade, it had not. She had watched on as he simply strode forward, thoroughly unimpre
ssed.

“Such deluded vanity he has,” Lovo had muttered. She had not responded. It was in the moments that followed that Suvira felt her eyes widen slightly. She didn’t recognize the spell he used, although she had quickly guessed it was from the vernacular side of magic. Lovo had confirmed this, and this knowledge should have made its use comical to her, but it turned out to have quite the opposite effect. Watching him walk right through her elite guards without so much as slowing down immediately changed her opinion of him by several meas
ures.

“What brazen
arrogance,
” she had said with the slightest hint of approval beneath the contempt. She couldn’t help but smile slightly. To think that the vernacular arts could be used so ostentatiously and without instruction! She had continued to watch as he casually strolled on, leaving his clearly substandard minions to deal with the squadron of elites. What happened then caused her to momentarily doubt her vision. His minions promptly proceeded to dismantle her honor guards as though they were not
hing!

“Interesting,” Lovo had mused. Not only had they easily defeated them, they had
humiliated
them, doing so both without destroying them and without their weapons. Suvira had never seen anything quite like it. So they were true anathemas after all. No, she thought, they were more than that. As they fought, it had become clear that they retained their minds
…
but
how?
Even her father did not know. What was more, they were well tra
ined.

“Well,
hello
there, Prince Meier,” she had said. No, she thought, this was
not
the boy she had seen only days prior. Then came her anat
hema.

“His shield will not hold this time,” Lovo had said, fully expecting the brat prince to be smashed into the ground when the anathema charged. Suvira had watched as he halted his anathemas and stood, wholly dauntless, as the beast approached. He had seemed to struggle, using some ridiculous series of movements to conjure whatever unfathomable thing was he was trying to produce. It was amateurish of course, but then that was to be expected. After all, without proper training, he was something of a dark orphan adrift in the sea of power. For the first time in as far back as she could remember, Suvira had no idea what was going to happen. He had finally seemed to lose his composure, and then it happened. What a glorious sight it had been! The dark prince had cast not one but
two
spells at the same time and at the last possible second! The flash of the explosion had illuminated the whole platform so brightly that the necromancer and her father could not help but wince. Suvira had watched as fiery pieces of her creation rained downed. It was then that she raised her eyebrow, leaving Lotho to his ruminations of her childhood. With that, Lovo returned to the present, still pondering the previous few minutes. Her words finally came, shattering the daze he wa
s in.

“What
…
was
…
that?”
she finally managed to ask incredulously. Lovo, still staring on impassively, hissed lig
htly.

“You know very well,” he answered. Suvira gro
wled.

“You know what I
mean,
Father.” Lovo shook his rotting
head.

“He is a
dark magus.
Surely you recall what that is,” he said unenthusiastically. Suvira turned the image of the disinterested Meier, looking at him closely from all an
gles.

“I’ve never
seen
one before,” she said with a sort of suppressed
awe.

“Neither have I, daughter,” he replied, “but that is only because they are basically useless. Again, you know this.” Suvira laughed at her father and his impassive respo
nses.

“Useless?
Perhaps as a whole, but see how he uses the vulgar power so
…
elegantly.
It intrigues me, Father,” she admitted. It was as Lovo feared. She was interested in the answers to yet another set of ultimately unimportant quest
ions.

“Of course, he also uses the finer arts. You can see his anathemas
…
or
whatever
they are. You know what you should do, naturally,” he said plainly. Suvira gave him a stern look and tapped the finger of her black gauntlet on the rim of her scrying
bowl.

“And what, pray tell, do you deign to suggest?” she asked, somewhat irritated by his slightly condescending tone. Lovo sighed and then walked forward to the rim of the bowl. With both rotten hands on the edge, he leaned forward, passing slightly into the image of Meier as he
did.

“Destroy
him, of course,” he said emphatically. Suvira scoffed at the dis
play.

“Get back,” she said, shooing him away from her proximity. Lovo obeyed, folding his arms as he did. Suvira pointed her metallic claw at her father, and her eyes flashed momentarily in anger. “Wasn’t it
you
that stated that we do not know his intent and also that he could be a weapon? Omens and auspices, wasn’t it? Now see how your craven shadow trembles! You and your generation were all alike, Father. If you didn’t understand something, you eliminated it
…
all the while forgetting that true power has its basis in
knowledge.
It’s no wonder that I’ve surpassed you all!” she exclaimed, slicing her hand through the air with a soft whistle. Lovo held up his hands in a futile calming ges
ture.

“I think you misunderstand me, daughter,” he said meekly. “I mean only that you should not take such risks lightly
…
and besides this
…
he is an
invader
, not to mention one that has already destroyed some of the minions you worked so hard to create. I retract what I said then in light of what I have now seen. That said
…
may I ask what you intend to do?” Suvira scoffed again but then returned to scrutinizing Meier and his perfectly behaved serv
ants.

“I want to take from him all that he has,” she said plainly. “I want to know how he made those anathemas. I want to learn whatever it is that he may
remember
from the distant past of magic
…
think of the
power,
father!” Suvira clenched her hand and with eyes closed threw her head back in the ecstasy of the thought. Lovo knew he was losing her. He decided to resort to careful reaso
ning.

“And what of the risk involved? Such people are dangerous, daughter. They always have been,” he said, calmly pacing. Suvira couldn’t help herself. She laughed lo
udly.

“You speak of
risk?
He is nothing to me! I am a true maven of the dark! True, his display was impressive, but as you already stated, what are the wasteful, tawdry spells of the destructive side when compared to subtle, masterful supremacy of the nether?” she asked with a wide gesture. Lovo had a quick an
swer.

“It is true that the risk is nominal if he challenges you and is destroyed, but it sounds as though you wish to
capture
him. Such an endeavor would be difficult without proper planning. What’s more
…
there’s something you should know about the history of the dark magi.” Lovo paused deliberately. Suvira narrowed her eyes and sighed with a
hiss.

“And what is that, Father?” she asked reluctantly. Lovo raised his skeletal finger didactically and resumed his pa
cing.

“As you stated, the destructive spells of the dark magi are both excessive and flashy, which needlessly deplete the user. Such spells are wholly inferior in that they utterly miss the point of magic. This is why the dark magi of history were seen as vulgar and undereducated by necromancers. That said, there was a brief time that necromancers sought to gain understanding of the dark magi, where previously there had been no interest. It was based on a single occurrence, one that ever since has been
…
swept under the rug. It was quite by chance that I found a tome that told the tale, but that’s irrelevant. The circumstances are also irrelevant, but the heart of the matter is this.” Again, he paused, but only for a dramatic mo
ment.

“A necromancer was
defeated
in single combat by a dark magus. The details are unknown, but suffice it to say, the outcome, once thought impossible, caused a ripple among the masters of the dark.” Lovo halted his pacing. Suvira continued to look at Meier but no
dded.

“That would explain why the dark magi are no longer seen, yes?” she asked, halfway interested. Lovo no
dded.

“That is correct. Many were destroyed by necromancers, simply as a precaution. The means by which the single dark magus emerged victorious are unknown. However, it is likely that there is a forgotten spell or
type
of spell that can be dangerous to our kind.” Suvira was listening, but only halfheartedly. The information was hardly important to her. Finally, she scoffed and shook her
head.

“Irrelevant. This ‘risk’ is still minimal to the point of being not worthy of mention. You mentioned his destruction of my minions? Easily replaced by the power of the source. He is an invader. What of it? If nothing else, he amuses me. Besides this, his manner intrigues me as well. As you correctly said before, we do not know his motive for coming here. It is possible that he only wants to increase his power. In other words, this could mean that he comes here to offer himself as my disciple! After all, he has no instructor!” Suvira clenched her gauntleted fist again. Lovo was momentarily speechless, but his moldering face revealed his feel
ings.