“Gate energy is a magic of the mind,” Serak said. “Only special tools used by the Krey Empire—or a mind mage—can see this type of power. Your father helped me build the Gate in the first place, and you’re going to help me finish it now.”
“I possess mind magic,” Draeken said.
Serak hesitated, and in that moment Draeken made his choice. Serak could not remain. Then Serak pointed to the other side of the Gate, directing him to stand opposite Zoric. Draeken took his place, careful to keep his decision from showing on his features.
“As I move the stones into place, make sure the threads all point into the center,” Serak said. “It should look like a spiderweb, with all the threads converging.”
“I see it,” Zoric said.
Draeken blinked into his mage sight and squinted, the chamber turning into swirls of colors. Mages could only see the energies to which they were attuned, so he saw the magic of light and shadow, as well as fire and mind. He’d gained only a touch of water magic when separating from the fragments, but there wasn’t much moisture in the room. As he examined the partially assembled Gate, he noticed faint lines of purple light connecting the outer arch to a central point.
“Is this how every Gate looks?” he asked.
“I cannot see it,” Serak said, “but I would assume that to be true.”
There was a touch of evasiveness in Serak’s tone, and again Draeken felt like Serak withheld the truth. But when their eyes met Serak’s expression was earnest, and Draeken was not certain if it was just his imagination.
“As I assemble the stones, make sure the threads do not cross,” Serak said. “It is imperative they all connect together into a single web.”
They set to work, with Draeken and Zoric guiding Serak where to place stones. Many of the already placed sections needed to be shifted, and the painstaking effort quickly grew tiresome. Piece by broken piece, the arch continued to rise.
The hours passed, but Draeken and Serak did not require food. Both were impatient, and although Zoric grew fatigued, they pushed forward. Gradually the top of the arch came together, the pile of pieces at the base quickly shrinking.
As the last pieces lifted off the ground and socketed into place, the web of Gate energy seemed to sparkle, as if it sensed the completion of the arch. After a day and a half of continuous effort, the last piece lifted and slid home the stone merging over the cracks.
“It is done,” Zoric breathed.
The man teetered on his feet, his eyes drooping, his face drawn. Irritated, Draeken motioned in dismissal and he stumbled to the stairs, where he sat and stared at the Gate.
“Will it work?” Draeken asked.
In answer, Serak reached for the runes embedded on the sides of the arch and pressed the largest. Silver liquid flowed from the sides, filling the interior and covering the threads Draeken had helped place. It shimmered once, and then went still. Draeken’s eyes glowed with triumph as the Dark Gate became whole once again.
A small figure appeared in the silvery liquid, stepping into view and looking about with interest. Draeken resisted the urge to recoil from her appearance, even as he contained his rising anticipation.
Her skin was mottled and diseased, her flesh covered in sores. Her eyes were sunken, enhancing the force to her gaze. A tattered cloak hung about her shoulder, much of it burned, as if by acid.
“Mimic?” Zoric called, lurching to his feet.
She looked to him, and he crumpled to the floor, retching and gasping, his skin turning a shade of green. Delighted with the woman’s newfound power, Draeken began to laugh, the sound tinged with pride.
“She is every whit as powerful as you promised,” Draeken said.
Serak made a motion to Mimic. “Enough. There is no need to kill our own.”
Mimic didn’t move, but Zoric sucked in a breath and gained enough strength to retreat. Draeken motioned in dismissal and the mind mage gladly fled, retreating up the stairs into the fortress.
“What am I?” Mimic asked evenly.
“You are the general of Plague,” Draeken said. “And from this day forth, arrows and swords cannot harm your body. The disease that ravaged your body in life now grants you this power, to destroy with a look, until your prey withers to aching sickness in your very presence.”
“I thought I perished in the acid,” Mimic raised a hand and examined her flesh. “Then I found myself in a endless cloud, and heard a mighty voice in my thoughts.”
“As you died the Gate pulled you back to Kelindor,” Serak said, glancing to Draeken. “Only a direct opposite magic could permanently kill you now.”
Mimic faced Draeken. “And I am to serve you.” A statement, not a question.
“You have always wanted to destroy,” Draeken said and pointed west, towards the allied lands. “Go, and wreak havoc on the people.”
She regarded him with unblinking eyes, her disconcerting gaze only bringing more delight to Draeken. Aside from Bartoth, she was the most dangerous of the four generals, and was nearly impervious to any damage. But because she’d been made using the cloak, her will belonged to him.
“I sought healing my whole life,” Mimic said quietly. “I never considered that my fate was to become my disease.”
“Embrace your fate,” Draeken said. “And destroy your foes.”
She smiled, the expression wonderfully sickening on her diseased features. “My plague is yours to command.”
She turned and ascended the steps, and Draeken listened to the cries from the guards above, pleased by the sweet melody. He did not notice Serak standing near the Gate, or his expression. Rather than triumph or pride at his creation, a different emotion flickered on his features.
Regret.
Chapter 26: Betrayal
Draeken basked in the sensation of riding a giant dragon, the beast soaring above the landscape like a god. He had no allusions to Gorewrathian’s allegiance. The dragon would obey until the moment he saw a chance to retaliate, and in that moment Draeken would have to kill the beast. But for now, he relished the wind on his face astride the king of dragons.