The Demon Lord And His Hero

Qairu's laughter was sharp.

"You nearly had me there, Syryn. Do you even know how impossibly difficult it is to create a lich?"

"I know," Syryn drawled. "The last immortal lich was killed nearly a thousand years ago and there hasn't been another since then."

"Yes. A lich appears once every thousand years because there can only be one lich in existence at a time."

"And the thousand-year mark is coming up, Qairu. Are you prepared?" The eagerness in Syryn's voice was contagious.

The priest grinned and leaned forward to rest his chin languidly on a palm. "If I didn't know better, I might suspect you were encouraging me."

"And If I were being honest, I'd confess that I am most certainly encouraging you."

A memory was pulled up out of Syryn's mental bank. Qairu was a special priest. He would never tire of saying that. The priest hadn't just discovered the secrets and esoteric rituals necessary to becoming a Lich, he'd found a way to make and enslave one. Where others strived to become a Lich, Qairu plotted and succeeded in turning an immortal Lich into his servant. With an army at his disposal, the priest would become the sovereign ruler of an enormous undead force to be reckoned with. And Syryn wanted to see that Lich army again.

"How is it that you know me better than the woman who calls herself my mother?" Qairu asked. His eyes seemed to be reading Syryn's mind. "Are you a seer? No, don't answer that. I believe in my abilities but you've come to me like a sign from the universe, Syryn. I must be on the right path."

It was here that Red saw fit to join the conversation. "Qairu, how about we exchange pointers? As a fellow necromancer in training, I see many advantages to learning from each other."

The priest stared at the child. "This day is full of surprises. What do you know, Lucien?"

The redhead recounted to Qairu a simplified version of the rules that were squeezed into his brain by his cheap teacher from the past. "The first rule for a necromancer, awareness of your own life essence. The second rule, knowing your own limits. The third rule-"

"Young Lucien, you really are serious. Did your brother not try to stop you from treading down this terrible path?" The priest solemnly asked. Dark magic users who fancied themselves necromancers often found ways to obtain the spells that allowed them to perform minor necromancy. The rules that governed the workings of this dark art were only available to the lucky few that either got their hands on true and complete necromancy literature or were fortunate enough to apprentice under a master necromancer.

"Lucien has an innate talent for using his life essence. I would never try to stop him so long as he refrains from hurting himself or other people in the process," Syryn answered.

"The creation of a Lich comes with a heavy price, Syryn. If you know that and still encourage me then you should also realise that you're imposing double standards on Lucien."

"Necromancy does not always involve human sacrifice. If Lucien desires to practice the art within the limits of animal sacrifice, then I have no bone to pick with his decision."

The priest looked between the brothers and back at Syryn. "A true necromancer must be allowed to practise unfettered by the rules of society, and in this case, his older brother."

"So you mean to say that I should stand back and do nothing while he kills people for personal gain?" Syryn's reply was cold.

Qairu's responding smile was laced with contempt. "You have a strange sense of right and wrong, Syryn. You encourage me to become a Lich on one hand, and then here you are telling me that human sacrifice cannot be tolerated. Make up your mind."

"This has nothing to do with morality. You know what becomes the eventual fate of a necromancer who walks too far into the shadows. I cannot lose Lucien to it."

"I see," Qairu tapped a finger to his cheek in thought. "Do you believe that I can reach my goal without turning into a demented necromancer?"

"You know the answer to that, Qairu. Only a Lich will allow you to bypass the rules of necromancy. That is your ultimate goal."

The priest's smile was tight. He had one secret ambition that could not be mentioned for fear of being killed. But Syryn had already uncovered it and spoke with the confidence of a seer who could see the truth of the future. Foolishness was believing in Syryn's explanation about how he knew of Qairu's ability, folly was discounting the explanation without giving any thought to it.

"Anyway, you don't have to look so annoyed. I'm not here to meddle in your plans. Consider me an interested spectator."

"I sense that you have more than a passing interest in my plans but I won't prod you for details as it is most unlikely that you'd say a word. You have the upper hand, Syryn. There's no evidence of my wrongdoing yet, but I suppose knowledge truly is power. I will forever be wary of you and what you know."

Red was quietly listening to the two of them exchange words. Qairu was unlike any other necromancer in his generation. The redhead did not have half the ambitions harboured by the priest but his passion for knowledge was just as great. Regardless of Syryn's good intentions and rules, Red was going to delve into the practice of necromancy like a true necromancer.

"I am not a threat," Syryn informed the priest. "But I will require your services as and when I may find need of a competent necromancer. It is a small price to pay for not leaking your secret to the Sanguine. And in saying that, I mean no offence to you, Lucien. I'd rather not risk leaving a trail behind you for the mage hunters fo find."

The redhead only smirked and turned to look at Qairu's reaction to blackmail.

"They'll find nothing to connect me with with the accusations you make," Qairu calmly replied. "You're wasting your breath."

"That's what you think," Syryn lifted his lips in a condescending sneer. "Your goal is already set in stone, Qairu. Someday, you will begin a journey that will culminate in the creation of an immortal Lich. I know the exact position of the moon, the day, and the year that it will come to pass. Is that enough of a warning? Or must I also tell you the identity of the man who isn't yet a Lich but will become one? I can kill him and ruin your plans for good. Do you still think I'm wasting my breath now?"