Chapter 4
Long hours of scouting around the homes of the rulers of the Consilium Veneficus had passed, and Ducarius was nearly ready to head home and get some rest. But as he did every trip, he silently teleported to the remote estate once owned by Drexley’s deceased necromancer.
According to Chander, Adney Blackwell had lost his only son and died soon after.
His home had been left to his housekeeper.
Despite the fact that the sentinels had contacted the elven housekeeper multiple times, she refused to discuss anything with them.
Since it would be dishonorable to harass the woman, Alaric had taken over the task of corresponding with her.
Every year he penned a letter that went unanswered.
Thankfully, the sentinels could traipse across the woman’s land without her knowledge.
Invisible, Ducarius trudged silently around the grounds and wondered for the millionth time how a sentinel could disappear without a trace. The magic of the compound should have reassigned Drexley, but it hadn’t. Ducarius refused to believe anyone had killed Drexley.
The lone thing on the planet that could harm sentinels irreversibly was their daggers.
And because of Albrecht and Arvandus’s tragic past, Alaric had been taught a spell which marked each blade with the name of the sentinel who owned it.
More importantly, it made it impossible for anyone to harm a sentinel with their own weapons.
Frustrated that he’d spent hours gaining no information about whatever nefarious plans the Consilium Veneficus had, Ducarius nearly missed the ripple in the air.
It was an odd wave in the sky that immediately reminded Ducarius of the magical anomalies found in the former compound that had boxed in skeletons like himself.
He stood still and waited patiently to see if he was somehow hallucinating or if he’d indeed noticed a glitch in his surroundings.
For countless minutes, Ducarius remained motionless.
But his fists clenched in triumph, and he held in a cheer when he noticed the irregularity again.
Perhaps my entire evening wasn’t wasted after all, Ducarius thought as he inched closer to the abnormality.
It took far too long for the stupid variance to repeat itself.
But Ducarius was ready for it. He kept his hand lifted and slipped his fingers through the subtle wave that probably would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone not familiar with the way magic distorted if left too long without the original spell being repaired.
Thankfully, Ducarius had a bit of experience with the like, and he grinned like a fool as his fingertips disappeared through the anomaly.
Ducarius tugged his phone out of his pocket to record what he’d witnessed so he would be able to bring it to Alaric and Chander’s attention as soon as he arrived home.
In his haste, Ducarius dropped the damn device and cursed his unusual awkwardness.
He bent forward to grab the phone and, to his horror, tumbled forward.
The world spun, and Ducarius barely bit back a shriek as the ground disappeared beneath his feet.
Suddenly dizzy, he squeezed his eyes shut.
He was being teleported somewhere. That much was clear.
But where? Thankful to be invisible, Ducarius hit the ground.
His teeth clacked together, and he braced himself to stand.
Several things hit Ducarius at once. But the most irritating was the tug on his mind. It was a spell he recognized. At the now-destroyed compound, his memory had been drained without his permission. This version wasn’t as strong, but Ducarius immediately resented the manipulation.
Setting aside his anger, Ducarius noted he was in a small realm.
There were others present. A necromancer.
Ducarius’s lips curled into a smile as he recognized one of his own—there was a sentinel in the realm too.
Had he found Drexley? There were a few other muted presences.
Temporary resurrections done without bringing forth the personalities of the people in question.
Their tiny life force reminded Ducarius of the reproductions Chander often did to add to the atmosphere of their annual All Hallow’s Eve party.
Desperate to know more about where he was, Ducarius stood and took in his surroundings. The realm was tiny. A large castle was set in the middle, and the gardens were eroding. Whoever had created it was incapable of keeping up with their spells or no longer cared to continue the practice.
Fully prepared to investigate the structure and adjacent land before introducing himself to the people inside, Ducarius wasn’t prepared for the castle door opening.
His blood surged south, and his dick filled in his first erection.
A sense of euphoria danced through him. Instead of a single scent, Ducarius was bombarded by everything he liked, and it coalesced into an indescribable but beautiful smell he immediately loved.
His mate was feet away. The sentinel was over six feet, like nearly all their people.
But instead of a gray uniform, the man wore a long velvet robe that had been considered fashionable by sorcerers centuries ago.
His blond hair was short and combed away from his face.
Unlike any other sentinel Ducarius had met, his other half had a goatee and mustache.
Ducarius thought the contrast was wonderful and was suddenly eager to learn everything that made this man special. With his heart racing and his palms sweaty, Ducarius dropped his invisibility, moved forward, and noted the light brown eyes rounded in shock.
“Are you Drexley?” Ducarius asked as he closed the short distance between them.
The surprise disappeared and was immediately replaced with suspicion. “How do you know my name?”
“Every sentinel knows your name. You have been missing for five hundred years.”
“What are you doing to make me feel so odd?”
“I do not understand.”
Drexley’s cheeks pinkened, and he broke eye contact. “It would be disrespectful to mention such things to a stranger.”
“Oh, your erection. It is because we are mates.”
“Sentinels do not have mates.”
“Fate appears to disagree with whoever gave you that information,” Ducarius stated briskly. The last thing he wanted was to hear that Drexley was not his gift from Fate.
“There was no evidence to suggest sentinels could be mated.”
“If you have been here for the last five centuries, you would have missed much about the Sentinel Brotherhood. Most of our people are mated, including our leader.”
“The sentinels do not have a leader. We are meant to be governed by the Order of Necromancia.”
Ducarius’s mouth twisted in an immediate snarl, and he was thankful he remained under the hood of his cloak so his expression wouldn’t upset his mate. “Tell me where I am.”
“That is none of your affair, and you should leave immediately. You are not welcome here.”
Before Ducarius could find a reply to that, an elderly man appeared in the doorway.
“Who is our guest, Drexley?” the ancient necromancer asked.
Drexley hustled to the man’s side. “You should be inside resting. I have asked this stranger to leave.”
The sorcerer sighed heavily and immediately erupted into a coughing fit. If this man was the creator of the realm, there was no mystery why it was crumbling at the edges. The necromancer was nearing the end of his life.
“Adney, you should go inside and sit. I will ensure this man leaves.”
“Dear Drexley, stop fussing,” said the man as he sagged against the doorframe.
Ducarius assumed he was Adney Blackwell despite the rumors of his death five centuries ago.
“He cannot leave. I am afraid I kept a secret. This realm allows no one to leave except me, and I lack the sorcery to alter the spell.”
Perhaps if his mate weren’t standing a few feet away, Ducarius would be appalled at the thought of being trapped.
But he refused to go anywhere without his other half, and he wanted answers.
Why had Adney trapped himself and Drexley in this tiny realm?
And what had he done to convince Drexley that his people should be ruled by the Order of Necromancia and its legion of asshole necromancers?
∞∞∞
Drexley’s mind was spinning, and his intense confusion helped abate his strange erection.
If he had not studied so intensely, he wouldn’t have a name for the way his penis was reacting.
Adney had been clear that sentinels lacked sexuality permanently and could not be mated.
So, why had Drexley’s entire being reacted to the stranger trespassing on their land?
Ignoring the cloaked man and his rioting emotions, Drexley focused on getting Adney into the castle.
But Drexley could not stop his mind from wandering.
Why hadn’t Adney ever mentioned that he was trapped in the realm?
Does it matter? Drexley immediately questioned.
The only place Drexley could recall with any clarity was a compound he had no desire to visit.
Still, it was unsettling to have his choices taken from him without his knowledge. Drexley decided his thoughts about Adney’s actions could wait. As he helped the necromancer navigate the wide hallway, Drexley refused to acknowledge the cloaked sentinel stalking in behind them.
If Adney was correct and sentinels lacked mates, why had Drexley reacted so intensely to the stranger?
And why did every sentinel know who Drexley was?
Could he be in danger from the other sentinels?
Drexley shivered as icy dread rushed through him.
But he couldn’t honestly pinpoint what scared him the most.
Drexley led Adney to a seat in the great hall and immediately grabbed a blanket to lie across his lap.
“Thank you, Drexley. Now, let us speak with our guest. Everyone, have a seat.”
Taking the chair at Adney’s side, Drexley decided it was best for him to allow the other men to talk. He preferred the role of observer since he was so horribly confused.
“Adney Blackwell, I presume,” the stranger stated in an admittedly pleasant voice. His cloak was unrelenting gray, and it matched the boots poking through the edges of the voluminous fabric. “It is odd to meet you since rumors abound about your unfortunate demise five centuries ago.”
“I invited you into my home to speak to you about your mission here, not discuss my past,” Adney retorted. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Ducarius. It is embarrassing to admit, but I tumbled into your realm. Your magic is fading, and I recognized an anomaly. It was my intention to bring it to the attention of the Lich Sentinel, not to immediately join you here. But I believe Fate had a hand in it now that I know my mate calls this realm home.”
“The Lich Sentinel should not have given himself a title. Alaric is a sentinel and should obey the rules of necromancers instead of putting himself in a position of power above anyone else,” Drexley stated firmly, then wanted to slap himself for getting involved in the conversation.
It had been his intention to stay silent, but Adney had drummed into his head how wrong it was for Alaric to pretend he was a leader, so the words had slipped out.
“That is a conversation for you and Alaric to have,” Ducarius said, and Drexley frowned as he sensed some humor in the man’s nearly monotone voice.
“It was my belief that sentinels lacked mates,” Adney remarked.
“You believe in the truth of those words, but I cannot understand the logic. We were created by sorcery, which makes us a type of magickind. Fate blesses all magickind with mates,” Ducarius responded.
“In my mind, I considered sentinels resurrected beings, not magickind; hence my confusion,” Adney commented. “How can you be sure you are Drexley’s mate?”
“As a necromancer, were you not taught how to recognize your mate?” Ducarius asked, his tone mystified.
“That is a foolish question,” Drexley retorted. “Adney is a well-educated necromancer with thousands of years of knowledge. Of course he knows the basics of Fate.”
“Then perhaps you should explain to him how you recognized me as your mate,” Ducarius challenged.
Drexley frowned. While he couldn’t deny that his body had grown erratic at meeting Ducarius, did that mean they were mates? Or was Adney correct in his assumption that no resurrected beings had that connection to another?
“I do not know what to think,” Ducarius said, which was the truth.
His entire being had reacted strongly, but until he met the mysterious Ducarius, he had not believed a mate was in his future.
Did unknown reactions prove anything? He was far too educated not to think things through.
As soon as he was alone, he had plenty to examine.
“You are overwhelmed, so I will not hold it against you that you are disregarding Fate,” Ducarius stated matter-of-factly. For a sentinel, the man sounded far too sure of himself.
“Where is your necromancer?” Drexley asked.
“Sentinels no longer have necromancers,” Ducarius replied, the words clipped and nearly angry. “The bond between our people was broken years ago.”
“So, being disconnected from Drexley was not a result of this realm,” Adney muttered. “Interesting. Who or what had the power to sever the connection of two races?”
“Arch Lich Chander Daray,” Ducarius said.
“But why would a necromancer sever such a vital bond?” Drexley asked. “Sentinels depend so much on the Arch Lich’s people.”
“Drexley, summon a skeleton from the kitchen. We will need to prepare a room for our guest. I lack the magic to alter the realm so you can leave, Ducarius. But I urge you to attempt to teleport. With my power fading, you may find yourself able to do what would have been impossible years ago. I am sure you do not wish to linger here. Once I have a rest, I will make it my mission to find a way to get you home.”
Ignoring the sudden urge to stay close to Ducarius or at least ask him to remove his hood so he could see the man’s face, Drexley rose without comment to do Adney’s bidding.
Drexley was so confused he wasn’t sure whether he wanted Ducarius to stay or go.
One thing was certain; Ducarius was dangerous to his peace of mind.
But what did that mean?