Page 50 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

Iggie swallowed, shifting his legs to hide his budding arousal. It might only be an echo of Julian’s own, but having Alistair so close, his golden eyes wrinkled with concern, definitely wasn’t helping. “Nothing relevant yet.” Alistair frowned, looking like he might protest, and Iggie added, “Now, let me concentrate. I need to focus on finding something more recent.”

Alistair gave a reluctant nod, and Iggie closed his eyes, settling back into his spirit link. The memories came faster this time, perhaps because he’d already established the connection once before. Or maybe Julian’s soul wanted Iggie to see what had happened to him. Either way, it took Iggie a while skimming through the deluge of thoughts, hopping from captured moment to moment, before he finally reached what felt like more recent memories.

Julian listening to yet another of Matrim’s rants about the unfairness of Erys dropping him as an apprentice. Matrim brandishing the book he’d stolen from the old fool like it was his salvation, a feverish glint in his eye that had stoked Julian’s unease. Matrim’s impassioned declaration that he’d show them all he was a real mage, worthy of their respect.

Matrim hatching a plan to perform a ritual from the stolen tome with the help of their friends to serve as living conduits for his magic. Matrim explaining how he’d use harmonite as a focus to conjure a benevolent spirit for Dawncoming and prove he wasn’t a failure. Julian’s doubts, but stronger than that, his love for Matrim and his faith in him. Julian’s reluctant agreement to go along with the plan and convincing the others to follow suit.

Then, a couple weeks ago, the night of the ritual.

Meeting in a cave outside town to draw a runic circle. Placing a worked piece of Matrim’s harmonite in the center. The ritual itself, an exhilarating flurry of blue and silver runeflame that imbued the offered harmonite, transforming it into a crystalline golem shimmering with light.

Horror clawed at Iggie’s insides as the tone of Julian’s memories abruptly shifted, hope and trust and love crumpling to despair and agony and terror as everything went awry.

Matrim trembling with effort, shouting that something was wrong, that he couldn’t hold the spell much longer. The magic destabilizing, far too much for Matrim to control. Matrim shoving Julian back from the runic circle, desperate to save him. The ritual snapping, blue and silver runeflame twisting and darkening into wild violet voidflame that consumed Matrim and the other three participants, leaving no trace of them behind. The crystalline entity contorting as voidflame imbued it, mutating it into an eldritch abomination writhing with lashing tentacles.

Julian fleeing in a broken daze, somehow stumbling home to Singer’s Rest. Drifting through the days that followed like a ghost himself, haunted by guilt and heartbreak, unable to bring himself to sully the town’s memories of Matrim by admitting the truth. Sitting alone in his favorite chair in the living room that had once been graced with Matrim’s laughter, picking up a dagger, and—

Iggie severed the spirit link with a cry, tumbling back to sprawl hard on the floor. Alistair reached him in a heartbeat, demanding to know what was wrong, but Iggie just shook his head. Unable to speak, he wrapped his arms around the paladin’s breastplate, buried his face in Alistair’s neck, and sobbed.

twenty

Alistair

AlistairheldIggieasthe necromancer’s sobs subsided into wet sniffles and he haltingly related what he’d witnessed through Julian’s eyes. When Iggie got to the failed ritual, his voice trembling, Alistair tightened his grip around the necromancer’s shuddering back.

Merciful Light, what had he been thinking encouraging Iggie to delve into the most recent memories of a blood-soaked corpse? He wished he could absorb Iggie’s pain—siphon it out of him and bury it deep with his own.

Iggie’s haunted blue eyes flicked to the nearby corpse, and Alistair rose, helping Iggie to his feet. “Come, let us continue this conversation elsewhere.”

He started toward the front door, pausing when Iggie shook his head. “Not yet. We should discuss what I saw while it’s still fresh in my mind. Besides, I need a minute before I go out there.” He licked his lips, and Alistair noticed just how parched they appeared after all his tears. “I-I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Alistair grimaced when he realized Iggie meant the townsfolk. The necromancer didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him weak. If only they realized what Iggie was willing to suffer in order to protect them.

Reining in his anger, Alistair nodded and led Iggie to the empty bedroom they’d found during their search. An odd blush colored Iggie’s cheeks when he saw the bed, and he opted to sit against the wall instead. Alistair followed suit, offering a hand to Iggie, who took it with a grateful smile. Alistair’s stomach summersaulted at the shared touch.

This is a bad idea. You should be distancing yourself from Iggie, not growing closer. None of this will last, remember?Butno matter how much Alistair recognized the truth in those thoughts, after what Iggie had just experienced, he didn’t have the heart to let go. Not yet.

“Unfortunately, Julian didn’t know much about the ritual itself,” Iggie offered into the silence. “I got the distinct impression that was more Matrim’s department. Julian trusted him, right up until the very end.” His bottom lip quivered. “He…he loved him.”

Outrage ricocheted through Alistair’s chest, and he tightened his grip on Iggie’s hand. “Not that the Light-blinded idiot deserved it. If what you say is true, Matrim was a selfish, arrogant fool. Even a failed apprentice should know better than to mess with the kind of magic he attempted, let alone put so many other innocents at risk. All these pointless deaths lie at his feet, and for what—because he wanted others to respect him? He deserves this to be his legacy. In the end, he was therealmonster threatening Singer’s Rest.”

He’d expected Iggie to share his indignation. After all, Alistair’s reaction came only secondhand. Iggie had literally lived through Matrim’s betrayal of his beloved’s trust. Instead, Iggie’s shoulders sagged as he bowed his head.

Alistair scooted closer, his armor scraping against the stone floor. He tried to wrap an arm around Iggie’s shoulders, but Iggie resisted, jerking away from his touch. Alistair slowly lowered his arm. “If I said something wrong, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Iggie wouldn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t even look at him. “We’re the same,” he whispered.

Confusion furrowed Alistair’s brow. “Who? You and Julian?”

Iggie shook his head. “No, me and Matrim. We’reexactlythe same.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve also engaged in ritualistic sacrifice using ill-gotten magic?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but the sudden tension vibrating through Iggie suggested it might not have been in the best of taste.

“Of course not!” Iggie yanked his hand free of Alistair’s grasp and leaped to his feet, pacing the length of the narrow room beside the bed. “But I might as well have. I’ve lost control, killed people with my magic, too. What makes me any better than Matrim?”

Alistair frowned. “That’s not exactly a fair comparison. You were achild, acting in self-defense. Merciful Light, you didn’t know what you were doing!”