Page 22 of Killian
“Oh dear,” Egidius said, his voice thick. “Oh dear. Oh dear. How? Wait. I recognize this magick.”
“You do?” Drystan asked, tearing his gaze from Killian’s rapidly growing prisons to Egidius’s white face.
“Yes,” Egidius replied instantly. “A former friend of mine, Agnarr, had to have pupils removed from his home. Complaints of cruelty reached my ears, and I forbade him to teach again. His methods included vile punishments, including poisons. He is adept…and a High Arcanist.”
High Arcanist was the highest title wizards could gain, which meant Agnarr was a gifted and rare sorcerer.
“I can lift the memory of his location,” Kariston said, resting his arm on Egidius’s.
“Go get him,” Egidius ordered as Kariston filled the space with an image of Agnarr’s home. “He has much to answer for.”
“I do not recognize the dragon culprit, and I cannot understand how any of them would ally with a wizard,” Drystan commented, his voice tense. “They hate sorcerers.”
Once again, Conley disappeared to presumably capture Agnarr. Aloisa laid her palm on Chander’s head, and her magick flowed around the warlocks and the Arch Lich.
“I believe his stomach is empty now,” Saura said. “Let us heal what we can.”
“Is that a fang?” Kaedan exclaimed.
The sound of tearing cloth was loud enough to reach Killian’s ears, and he started as the sorcerers surrounding Chander jumped back.
“What is happening?” Drystan asked from across the room.
“What in the name of Fate?” Egidius asked.
“Th-th-those are wings!” Kaedan exclaimed as two inky black wings emerged from between Chander’s shoulder blades.
“It would seem there are more mysteries to our dear Chand’s birth than we considered,” Saura said, tentatively moving forward and kneeling again next to Chander. The orphan Chander knew nothing of his origins. One of the former elders had found Chander on his doorstep. Recognizing the winged skull on his chest as something only Fate could imbue, the elder proclaimed him the first Arch Lich chosen by the goddess.
A power struggle had soon emerged as a group of former Arch Liches proclaimed themselves elders and spent the next thirty years attempting to manipulate Chander and circumstances to keep the ability to govern. Now, Chander was free of them, and Killian could not help but wonder what role they had played in his poisoning.
Thankfully, the sentinels Killian was imprisoning had finally stilled. It was a relief. Although he was a gifted sorcerer, it was taking all his strength to keep the elite assassins from attempting to kill the occupants of the great hall.
“Our dear Chand would appear to be more than a necromancer, yet I cannot detect much beyond the soul I still recognize as uniquely his,” T’Eirick stated.
“Whatever this other half is that has emerged, it is aiding our healing,” Kaedan said, shoving considerable magick into Chander.
“Yet I will not feel better until he awakes,” Kariston commented.
“Do you see?” Aloisa asked, her palm settling on Chander’s locks again. “His face has changed slightly. Even his hair texture differs. This mysterious other half of his sorcery is remarkable indeed.”
“Without it, I doubt he would have survived this,” Kaedan growled.
Egidius closed his eyes. “What apology can I offer for the brutality he has suffered today at the hands of one of my own?”
“It was not a wizard alone,” Drystan stated. “My senses tell me necromancers were involved and the dragon. I cannot reveal which necro yet without properly examining his home, but your wizard did not act by himself.”
“A wizard willing to be hired to do something so nefarious is hardly soothing to my soul,” Egidius replied. “But I am glad of your skills. We need everyone involved to suffer for nearly killing the Arch Lich.”
“Yes, Chand is a devoted ruler, and our Council needs him too,” Saura added.
“His heart is beating normally again,” Kaedan said, blowing out an unsteady breath.
With the sentinels no longer struggling, Killian rushed toward his friend and allowed what was left of his magick to touch Chander so he could ascertain his condition. He nearly smiled as he detected two distinct halves, though the newly added one was a dark abyss he could not read. But he believed it to be strong.
It had to be mending what the poison had wrought. Warlock magick was still flowing through Chander in thick waves, and Killian felt him stir slightly.
“He is close to consciousness,” Killian murmured.
