CHAPTER TWELVE
A Passage of Necromancers and Monologues
Sounds and sights blurred as Em faded into consciousness. Her rasped breathing echoed all around. Everything reeked of sweat and rusted metal.
She blinked, squinting in the bright light overhead. A stinging pressure gripped her wrists. She tried to pull free, metal clanking in protest, and discovered with a jolt that her arms were cuffed.
Em surveyed the rusted contraption she’d been bound to; something sharp dug into her shoulder blades. The restraint system hung suspended over the rocky ground, leaning slightly forward. If her shackles popped open, she’d fall flat on her face, likely breaking her nose.
She gritted her teeth, fighting to ignore the acid churning in her stomach in protest to the traumatic stench of goblins.
Shit, so she’d been abducted. The stereotypical beginning of Act 2 to many fantasy novels. Apparently, her Great Author was resisting her attempts to overthrow her plotline.
All the more reason to fight harder, she told herself.
You wish.
A vicious chuckle sped her pulse. Em gasped, craning her neck about to try to find the origin of the dark laughter.
“The Almighty Queen of Stars lives,” a deep voice murmured. “And at last, I am graced with her presence after wasting many soldiers to hunt down the illusive Chosen One.”
Em didn’t need to guess who’d spoken. The dim atmosphere and stench were a dead giveaway.
“Kriqir.”
“Kriqir the Living, fool.”
Em almost rolled her eyes, but she didn’t know where the necromancer hid inside the dark prison.
If Kriqir was as cliché as every other narcissistic antagonist in Novella, she knew exactly how to survive his interrogations.
She just needed to make him monologue about his world domination schemes.
Or, even better, get him to talk about himself whenever his convenient info-dumping finished.
Once she pinpointed his weakness, she could use it to her advantage. No doubt, her companions would arrive at just the right moment to rescue her.
If Kriqir was cliché as the rest of her shitty plot, Em wasn’t the least bit worried about this villain.
A manicured hand lay on her shoulder, his skin colder and whiter than ice. To her surprise, it appeared young—not the wrinkled, gnarled countenance she’d expected.
A shiver wriggled up her spine at his touch.
The necromancer laughed from the shadows.
“I feel your fear, fool.” Kriqir pulled his hand away. His breath smelled like he’d just finished chewing an entire package of minty gum. “I thrive on it.”
“What do you expect me to do… cry?” Em demanded. If anything, she felt more annoyed at this sidetracked sequence than afraid. Just when she’d begun to work on some originality for her companions.
“All who come within the presence of Kriqir the Living shall do more than cry.” His tone deepened with every negative word, the slightest lisp in his accent. “There shall be great sorrows and pains to those who do not bow before me when I am king over all of Novella.”
“You’ll never win.” Em said the first stereotypical response she could muster to encourage his villainous bragging. “Faylorn of Rowling, Institute of Magics will rescue me.”
“I doubt that, fool,” Kriqir chuckled behind her. “Only the relic of Brolzross the Nocturnal can destroy me, and from what my magic is telling me, I don’t believe you have it.”
“I will find it.” Em forced fake determination in her voice to cover her amusement. She was having way too much fun in this interrogation. Kriqir had no clue that she couldn’t care less what he did to her. “You don’t stand a chance.”
“Is that so?” Kriqir clicked his tongue as if he were bored. “I’m afraid your courage has gotten the best of you, dear Em. You are my captive.”
A velvet-robed figure stepped past her into view.
His chain mail and heavy amulets clinked as he walked, his cloak swimming around him.
Kriqir turned, the spotlight over them revealing a scaled mask over his face.
Small horns curving out over his head to create a crown.
Silver-flecked eyes stared at her from under the mask.
Em gawked at what little of his face she could see. Most necromancers she read about in books were yellow-eyed old men or noseless-eyebrowless bald guys.
Kriqir was young enough and built like a super-star athlete to have fit in at Sanderson’s School for Main Characters. Besides the cliché dark costume, he carried the presence of a morally gray anti-hero.
Is this an actually original character?
His wry eyebrows formed a straight line. “Where is Destiny’s Song, Reaver of Diligence, fool?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie!”
“Fine.” Em wrinkled her nose, not caring about the stupid prophecy sword anyway. It made no difference to her plotline who had it. “It’s in Mercer Village near the Long Rest Tavern and Inn.”
“I said don’t lie!” he shouted, stomping his foot.
Em winced, wishing she could itch her ringing ears. “Well, what the hell do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me where Destiny’s Song, Reaver of Diligence, is.” Kriqir strut closer to her, folding his pristine fingers, silver eyes glowing. “So, where is the prophecy sword?”
“Why do you need it so much?” she asked.
“Because you fool…” Kriqir gripped at her cuffs, his manicured nails digging into her wrist bones.
He leaned in her face. Em nearly gagged at just how minty his cold breath was.
“The one who wields that blade is the one who can steal the relic of Brolzross the Nocturnal. The one who holds his relic is the one who determines the fate of Novella.”
“So, let me guess; you want the relic so you can live forever?” Em coughed back a giggle.
“Yes.” Kriqir pulled away, smirking to himself. “Then I shall destroy the Wood Elves and enslave the dwarves. Then the Cursed-But-Once-Uncursed-Tower will be mine forever.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” The necromancer blinked back his confusion.
“I’ll give it to you.” Em did her best to shrug in the constricting contraption she was trapped in. “I don’t fucking care. I don’t even want it.”
Kriqir scoffed.
“Don’t you believe me?” she asked.
“Never.” The villain brushed himself off at the thought of it.
“So, what happens after?” Em asked.
Keep talking. You can’t be this basic with your villainous ambitions. You’re supposed to be the threat to all of Novella after all, Kriqir.
The villain paused, bewildered. “What?”
Em sighed, annoyed she always had to clarify with these cliché characters. “What do you plan on doing after you take over the tower and kill all the Wood Elves?”
“Uh…” The antagonist paused. He forced a flat smile, motioning to himself. “I’ll be the ruler of the whole world.”
“Then what?”
“You don’t need to know all the details,” he snapped.
Em raised her eyebrows. Guess her villain had no long-term goals.
Damn, my Great Author sucks.
Rude. At least I actually like you. Somewhat. Most of the time.
“The point is, you will lose, and I will win! I can do anything I want whenever I want. No one can say otherwise. I will have all the power in the world!” Kriqir chuckled again. “No prophecy will ever stop me… and no girl, for that matter.”
“Have you read any books?” Em yawned.
“Books?” He frowned behind his menacing mask.
“In books, the hero always wins,” she said.
“The prophecy declared me the Chosen One. Even if I didn’t want to defeat you or even if I joined you and became a villain, you’d still die.
You’re one of five people destined to always die in Novella: a red-shirt, mentor-figure, a parent, a storm-trooper, or a villain. You happen to be the latter.”
“I’m not a villain,” Kriqir argued. “I’m a dark overlord with an army of orcs and goblins at my disposal. I have control over the Cursed-But-Once-Uncursed-Tower. Realms and villages fear me. I’m undefeated and invincible.”
“So different.” Em didn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. “So original. I’m practically shaking right now.”
Kriqir let out a roar, stomping his boot again. His chain mail and amulets rattled. “How dare you insult Kriqir the Living, fool?”
“Oh, I dare.”
Kriqir shut his eyes, letting out a deep breath as if to center himself. He folded his hands again, creases across his reddened expression tightening.
“Have you no concept of fear, Almighty Queen of Stars, or must I teach it to you? Did your parents merely raise you on candy and lullabies?”
“Candy, yes. Lullabies, no,” Em said. “We mostly sang Dad’s boy-band songs from his teenage, contemporary-genre days. He and Mom moved to Adventuras Island before I was born. Fantasy had more publishing opportunities back in their day.”
A prick of concern overthrew her confidence for a moment. “Are you going to torture me?”
A crash erupted overhead.
Em gasped, sinking into her shackle-contraption.
Lime-colored smoke swirled through the room, hissing around Kriqir. It let off a sickly illumination, swallowing the dungeon in its ominous glow. Kriqir’s silver eyes reflected the green hue, casting sharp shadows across his young, strong features.
Em coughed. The smoke watered her eyes, tightening her throat.
“Let me tell you the story of a dark boy… of darkness… and of evil.” Kriqir strut closer to her with a wicked smirk. He raised his arms and face to the ceiling, the green smoke outlining him in shadows.
“Um, okay?” Em squinted in the lime hue; everything blurred past her tears.
“A story of pain and sorrow!” Kriqir raised his voice. “Of darkness, and pain, and sorrow… and…”
“Are you going to tell the damn story or not?” Em interrupted.
The sooner he finished his unfortunate backstory the sooner her friends would arrive to rescue her.
And she could get out of these damn, pinching cuffs.
After all, Kriqir was about to spout just enough convenient information to move the plot forward.
And I thought my lame-ass love interests were predictable.
Kriqir shot her a deadly glare. “I am getting to it.”
“Go on,” she urged, impatient for his pity-party to end, let alone start.
“Don’t tell me what to do, fool!”
“Fine, I won’t.” Em snorted. “Don’t go on then. Pardon my sinful mouth.”
“It begins in a faraway village called Starkshire,” Kriqir cleared his throat.
“When I was a boy, my hometown was attacked by mountain trolls.
My family was nobodies, mere backgrounders in the seas of Side Characters and heroes.
An adventurer stepped in to save the day, claiming to be a Main Character of the Great Authors of Novella.
“According to him, he was published in twelve stories.” Kriqir let out a dramatic sigh.
“But those trolls killed him—ripped him to shreds and horrified my innocent heart.
His blood and guts were everywhere in the streets for weeks.
I knew little of the vast realms of Novella—full of Sith Lords and hobbits and wizards and princesses in towers and magic and bands of superheroes and… evil.
“This world is nothing but chaos. It needs to be under control. The villains and heroes in this world fight too many wars, party, fall in love, and give up everything about to be…what’s the word?
Oh, yes, original. They change everything about themselves to become Main Character for a Great Author’s novel one day. ”
Em clenched her jaw. She’d never heard of someone being disgusted by the diversity of Novella’s realms or regions.
While she merely struggled to cope with tropes or clichés, Kriqir hated it all.
And she was exactly the kind of individual he’d just slurred: a Main Character wanting nothing more than to be original.
“So, because of the trauma, no thanks to that dead Main Character, I’ve dedicated my entire life to ruining it all,” the necromancer went on. “To stop these vast genres throughout Novella and to rule over them. There’s more to life than these wretched stories…”
“Life is a story. You can’t avoid being surrounded by books—if you can, then you’re probably already living in one,” Em argued. “The one life you’re allowed to control and enjoy is your own.”
“I will find the sword, and I will destroy the prophecy,” Kriqir sneered. “I’ll destroy every ballad, every book, and every folklore until only ordinary people remain in Novella. Then I’ll find a way into the dimensional plains of the Great Authors and bring an end to their control.”
That’s cute.
“Try.” Em balled her fists, unable to do anything else in her cuffs. “If I don’t defeat you first, then someone else will. You’re at the mercy of thousands of Main Characters throughout Novella. You don’t stand a chance.”
“The authors just write books, fool!” Kriqir laughed maliciously. “What power do they hold over me?”
I mean, I could just delete you.
“There’s an entire world of heroes out there, Kriqir,” Em said.
“They’re all just waiting for adventures; passion pumping dreams through their veins.
For everyone you kill, a new one arises.
They’ll take turns to overcome you. And even if you’ve killed them all, there will be no one left for you to rule. ”
Kriqir hissed, baring his teeth. “That’s what you think!”
“I know so.”
“I know more than you,” the villain growled. “You’re just some magicless girl with a prophecy.”
“And yet…” Em grinned, “you’re scared enough to chain me up.”
Tension and silence hung over them, the green smoke thinning between their calculating glares. Kriqir tapped a manicured finger on his crossed arms, contemplating what to do with her. Em just wanted to get out of the uncomfortable restraints before bruises and blisters formed on her wrists.
What I wouldn’t give for some damn deus ex machina.
On cue, a beam of light cut through the dungeon.
Em squeezed her eyes shut, but the blinding glare seeped through her eyelids with hot yellowness.
“Kriqir the Living, this is a rescue attempt!” a feminine voice announced from somewhere overhead. “If you try to resist, you will regret it. Give us the princess, and no one will be hurt.”
“Sasha,” Kriqir growled.
Who?