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2.51

Mikhail hurt everywhere, but nowhere so much as his shoulder. His shoulder where an arm should have hung. Instead, his arm lay on the ground back in the badlands. All thanks to that puny worm. The boy had ruined everything. The horse under him shuddered. The beast had almost reached its limit. The animals could only bear the demonic energy so long before it burned them out. He’d have to land soon or risk falling to the mountains below.

Not that it mattered. Below him the entrance to his master’s base was only half a mile away. The stupid animal could last that far anyway. A minute later Mikhail spotted the shadowed cave mouth. He urged the horse down.

It landed in a patch of snow, shuddered again, and collapsed. Mikhail held out his hand and absorbed the demonic energy he’d used to transform his mount. When the last of the power drained away from the horse, all that remained was a rotted corpse. He’d need a new mount. Mikhail rotated his damaged shoulder. He’d need a new arm as well, assuming the master didn’t kill him.

Mikhail shook his head. Master Blackman wouldn’t dispose of him so lightly. He was the master’s strong right hand, well strong left hand anyway.

The tunnel had no lights burning anywhere, but to Mikhail’s demon eyes the path was clear. He followed the rough passage for fifty paces, ignoring several side passages. With each step the master’s power grew stronger. The warlock was probably brooding in his library again. He should get out more. It wasn’t healthy to sit in the dark and think too much.

Mikhail barged into the library. The master sat on his black chair at the far end, turning his amulet over and over. Mikhail walked past the shelves and their demonic artifacts. The creepy things never did fascinate him like they did Morana.

He went down on one knee in front of the warlock. “Master.”

Master Blackman looked up from his amulet. “What happened to you?”

“I was defeated, Master.” The words almost stuck in his throat. He wanted to make excuses, but the master wouldn’t accept them. “A sorcerer bested me and freed the prisoners.”

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“Took your arm as well.” The master’s cold voice was indifferent to Mikhail’s suffering. “Tell me about this sorcerer.”

“He wasn’t much more than a boy, but he was strong and he fought well. Can you fix my arm, Master?”

“Morana warned me you weren’t suitable for the task of being my knight. She said you were vain, weak, and stupid. Perhaps I should have listened. But you were so enthusiastic. You practically tripped over yourself in your rush to murder your father and take your place at my side. Now your incompetence has ruined my plans for our southern front.”

Mikhail winced to hear his master lay out his many failings. To hear that Morana had tried to convince the master not to accept his service didn’t surprise him. The bitch had always been jealous of him. “If you fix my arm I can make everything right. The women and children won’t be difficult to reclaim.”

“You truly are an idiot. General Taos will be on alert and the archmage will have sent more sorcerers to protect the border. No, that avenue is closed to us.” Master Blackman rose up off his throne and walked through the shelves. He finally stopped and plucked a long, black, desiccated arm off a shelf. “Come here.”

Mikhail stood and rushed over to his master’s side.

“Don’t move.”

The master touched the stump of the arm to his shoulder. Black fire burst from the appendage. Pain such as Mikhail had never imagined screamed through his body as the flames fused the new arm to his shoulder.

When the pain died down Mikhail flexed the fingers of his new hand. They worked well and felt stronger than the one he lost. That it was an ugly, black, scale-covered thing seemed a small price. “Thank you, Master.”

“Best be careful, Mikhail, I have no more spares.”

“Yes, Master. What shall I do now?” He desperately wanted a new task to prove his worth.

“You will stay here and guard our base while I’m gone. You would have led the fight on the southern border, but that option is now gone.”

“Please, Master, take me with you. Morana can—”

“Morana has her own work to do. Unlike you, she’s never failed me. My own task is too important to have you getting in my way. I doubt anyone will stumble on this place, but if the wrong people should show up you will kill them. Surely you can manage that simple task.”

The master’s contempt clawed at Mikhail. He wanted nothing so much as to prove he was worthy to join the master when he ascended to true power. “No one will get past me, Master.”

“Remember, only kill the wrong people. If some of our allies should show up I don’t want to find their bodies bleeding on the stone. Everyone has their part to play if the plan is to succeed despite your failure. If you fail me again I’ll have your own arm strangle you. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. I won’t fail.”

“Good. A new world is waiting for us, Mikhail. If you wish to see it you must prove your worth. Otherwise you burn with the rest of the garbage.”