Wednesday Excerpt, "Revenge"

“What can I do to be of service, Sire?”

Mandrean leaned forward. “I want to know what you have

found out about the staff for the Blue Sapphire. I charged you with

finding it some time ago. Having found its mate in the red staff it

should pose no problem for you.”

“That being such a simple task, I suppose you think I should

have found it by now?” Necromancer quipped. “But you fail to

remember that the only reason we located the red staff in the first

place was because an agent told me that Dirk Grithinshield had it

in Sartan. That was a stroke of luck. Such luck does not happen

twice. Surrender your quest.”

“Don’t be a fool. I could no more surrender my quest than I

could my right hand. The stick you made me does not give me full

access to the Blue Sapphire’s powers.”

“That stick,” Necromancer defended, “gives you nearly all the

ability of equally the most powerful magic in the world you could

possess. No one other than I could have made you that stick. Be

thankful for what you have been given.”

“But that still does not give me the power I need to defeat

Linvin Grithinshield.”

“The blue staff won’t either. It will only make your magic equal

to Grithinshield’s. Your magic will just cancel each other out. The

colors are opposites in the magical hierarchy. Did you not learn

that in your battle in the Valley of Broken Soldiers? A fight would

come down to your strength against his, your will against his and

your skill against his. If you could be honest with yourself for one

moment, you would admit that you will never be his equal there.”

Necromancer paused while Mandrean seethed. He returned to

antagonism after reading his master’s expressions. “Why keep

pressing the issue with the half-elf? What? Is that stomach wound

still hurting? If not for me, you would be a corpse.”

Mandrean erupted. “And you waited long enough to heal me. I

was nearly dead.” He dismissed the servants tending the fire and

swam to the edge of the bath near the wizard. “How long did you

wait? Hmm? How much of my blood did you let spill before you

saved my life? You waited as long as you could in hope that I was

dead, didn’t you? Any longer and my men would have thought you

didn’t want me to live. In fact, if I had not been awake to order you

to save me, I think you would have let me expire right then.”

Necromancer smiled with a wicked expression only he could

make. “Of course, I was eager for you to die.” Necromancer said it

in a deep, monotone voice. “It’s a shame you bleed so slowly. I

was nearly rid of you. As for that wound, even my magic cannot

heal another person. I could only repair some of the physical

damage Linvin inflicted. Your lack of permanent healing is

influenced more by your flimsy body.”

The words shook Mandrean to his roots. He maintained a front

of anger to cover his distress. “Oh no, Necromancer, you will

never be rid of me. I will make your life as horrible and demeaning

as I possibly can without end.”

Necromancer chuckled under his breath and knelt by his lord.

“You are wrong, and you know it,” he whispered. “I have all the

time that will ever be. And I have something you do not possess

despite all of your possessions. Patience.”

Deep inside Mandrean knew his wizard’s words to be true but

wouldn’t admit it even in his mind. He rose from the tub and

donned a robe. Still dripping wet, he approached his underling.

Mandrean bent down to bring his face directly in front of

Necromancer’s. “You say you’re patient, but you’re not. You want

me dead so badly it’s eating you up inside. I know you just as you

think you know me. You wanted Grithinshield to murder me. The

fact that he failed is tormenting you day after day.”

Necromancer looked away during the speech and then focused

on the emperor.

“The only thing tormenting me is your minute intellect.”