City of Jade

38

DARK DESIGNS

EARLY SPRING, 6E9

Safely locked away in his sanctum, such that none could do him harm, Nunde’s body lay slack, unresponsive, but for shallow breathing. For anyone who had the ‹sight› to see, out from his abdomen trailed a thin, dark, aethyrial cord, no thicker than a fine hair, for Nunde’s spirit soared far away.

And the Necromancer watched as Malik and his cohort of Drik and Chun, with one of the four Oghi in the lead, hacked their way through the last mile of the tangle lying between them and their goal. That Malik ineffectually swatted at the swarms of bloodsucking flies and mosquitoes and swiped at whining gnats and scraped leeches from his legs was of no concern to Nunde. After all, Malik was but an apprentice-valuable, perhaps, but expendable at need. One day Malik might achieve enough knowledge to strike out on his own, but that day lay far in the future; it certainly was not here yet. And by that time, Nunde himself would be so powerful that neither Malik nor anyone else would pose a significant threat. Why, Nunde would slap him down just as Malik had slapped that bloated thing feeding upon his cheek, leaving behind nought but a crimson smear and scarlet droplets oozing from the hole lingering in his skin.

After seeing that Malik neared the destination, Nunde sped on ahead. And before him, rearing up from the jungle, lay the pristine tower, made of stone so smooth and so seamlessly joined that no plant, no vine, not even lichen could gain a foothold upon its flawless surface.

To the top of the tower soared Nunde, and through one of the four cardinal arches carved in the dome and into the open chamber beyond. Ah, yes, his chosen one yet remained in place upon the pedestal.

I will call upon you if needed , crooned Nunde as his aethyrial self circled ’round, knowing that if he did so, it would take much ‹life force› to cast the spell that would loose and then cage the creature again, and would drain Nunde’s astral being dreadfully. Yet he would not make the same mistake as that fool of a Sorcerer had made, for at that time the city had been laid to waste by an imperfectly cast conjuration. It was only by the efforts of many of Magekind in the years after that the warder had been confined again. As to the original imperfectly cast summoning that had set the warder free, the imbecile who had done so had paid with his life. Nunde knew that he would have to expend the ‹essence› to prevent the same fate from happening to him.

Then away he fled, back toward his sanctum. Nunde would have liked to find Aravan and see what that fool of a Dohl was up to. Surely by now he had taken the bait. Yet Nunde would not risk the gamble, for not only did Aravan have that cursed blue amulet that might warn him that Nunde was nearby, but he also was accompanied by the whore Aylis, a Seer with the ‹sight›. And Nunde would not reveal his aethyrial self to her. Oh, no. She was, after all, the one who had helped Aravan ruin all of Nunde’s carefully laid plans in Neddra that hideous night when Aravan and his host attacked the Black Fortress.

Nunde smiled. In fact, he was depending upon that stupid trollop to help spring the trap he himself had devised. She was a Seer, after all.

What was it now? Seven, eight years since he had conceived his brilliant scheme?

To some that might seem a long time.

But Nunde was patient.

It didn’t matter how long Malik and his cohort had to wait there in the steaming environs. After all, they were nought but lackeys, and obeying Nunde’s slightest whim was the why of their very existence.

All this and more did Nunde contemplate as he sped back to his sanctum.

His trap was nearly laid.

Aravan would meet his doom.