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Now reaching Gerazad before he and his necromancers do is even more vital. If we fail, if Arluin retrieves Lagartha’s ring, it’ll be much more than my vendetta at stake. The entire world will be crushed by the Lich Lord’s wrath.
“The Grandmage of Nolderan at the time—”
“Lothar Ashbourne,” Natharius interrupts.
“Well,” I continue, “Grandmage Lothar Ashbourne was one of the three sorcerers who sealed the Lich Lord. Lagartha the Old was another. Before you mentioned that the most powerful sorcerers from the races of man, orc, and elf sealed the Lich Lord away. So, the third person involved would have been the High Enchanter of Lumaria?”
“Indeed.” Natharius’s eyes glint, swirling with unfathomable power. “He would have been.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I whisper. “You were the High Enchanter at the time, and you were one of the three sorcerers who sealed the Lich Lord?”
He lifts his head in a nod.
I glance across to Taria. As I expect, the priestess doesn’t look surprised. Is this what she meant about the Mother rarely smiling upon a demon? Out of the three sorcerers who sealed the Lich Lord away, he’s the only one left alive. Even if he’s now a Void Prince, his knowledge may be pivotal in saving the world from destruction.
“You sold your soul to the Void King for power,” I say quietly. “Power to defeat Kazhul Nightbringer.” My mind flashes back to one of our earliest conversations, when Natharius sat at my dining table and we discussed how I could defeat Arluin:Do you have one hundred thousand soul-gems?Are you willing to sacrifice an entire kingdom worth of souls to summon my demons?
My mouth falls open as the realization strikes me. I stare at Natharius, somehow seeing him for the first time. As something other than the wicked demon I’ve always seen him as.
“You sacrificed your entire kingdom to summon the Void King’s army from the Abyss,” I continue, the words spilling from my mouth before I can stop them. “A hundred thousand mortal souls for a hundred thousand demons—”
“That’s enough,” Natharius hisses.
The dangerous edge to his voice stops me from saying more.
“I have no wish to discuss these matters with a puny, good-for-nothing mage,” he spits. “They are far beyond your mortal comprehension.”
Instinctively, his wrath makes me step back. Yet beneath his rage, I catch the flicker of something else. Perhaps pain, but it’s hard to tell since the fleeting shadow is gone in mere instants.
Despite all his fury, I don’t see a fearsome Void Prince. I instead see an injured wolf lashing out to hide his vulnerability. He doesn’t succeed in hiding all of it.
His emotion is raw. And so very mortal.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Not that I owe him an apology. I haven’t forgotten how he laughed at Nolderan’s fall, nor have I forgiven him for it. But the words tumble from my mouth all the same.
Natharius holds my gaze for a moment, his jaw twitching. Then he whirls around and storms past the lake, toward the trees ahead. “We’d better get moving, or else the necromancers will retrieve Lagartha’s ring and awaken the Lich Lord.”
twenty-seven
Ourfootstepsechothroughthe trees. I stare at the back of Natharius’s silver hair as he leads us through the Ghost Woods. I can’t think clearly. My mind swarms with all he revealed a few hours ago.
That Arluin possesses a part of the Lich Lord’s soul. That Natharius is one of the three sorcerers who sealed the Lich Lord inside his icy tomb. That if we don’t reach Gerazad before Arluin does and recover Lagartha the Old’s ring, then all life will be obliterated from Imyria.
It’s all too much. The worry of reaching Gerazad first weighs heavily on my mind.
What visions did the Mother Goddess reveal to Taria? Did she witness undead armies waging death across Imyria? She’s quiet as she walks behind me. From her contemplative expression, it’s clear she’s also wrapped up in her own thoughts. Caya is just as quiet, but perhaps for other reasons. Since leaving the cave, she hasn’t relaxed her grip around Juron’s sword.
I reopen my eyes and sigh. No one comments on it. With the wind howling through the trees, I doubt they’ll have even heard it.
The Void Prince’s shoulders are taut beneath his dark tunic. Though hours have passed since we left the lake, his temper hasn’t lessened. Rage fuels his every movement. His boots stomp on the twigs and leaves littering our path, crushing them into dirt, and he shoves stray branches out of his way with so much force they snap from the trees. Once or twice, I have to murmurventrezto blow the branches away before they slam into me. I don’t think Natharius is purposely trying to hit me with them, though. I’m not sure he even notices me casting spells behind him. His eyes remain on the path ahead.
This anger can’t only be from my questions about his past. Surely even Natharius can’t maintain such a burning rage over something like that for this long. I suspect his initial reaction at the lake has much to do with his current temper. Shock and horror were plastered across his face, turning his alabaster skin several shades paler.
The Void Prince is terrified. And it seems he’s trying to hide his fear by turning it into anger. Maybe he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Maybe he doesn’t recognize this emotion as fear.
Though I’m certain his anger is due to fear, I’m not entirely sure about the actual reason behind it. He can’t possibly be concerned over Imyria’s fate. He would probably be amused if all of us mortals perish.
While I’m curious, I decide not to ask. It would only further incite his wrath. My guess is his anger is linked to the measures he took to defeat Kazhul Nightbringer. If the Lich Lord returns, won’t that make all his sacrifices be for nothing?
