Finding My Lich: Abaddon, #1

Prologue

Five hundred years ago

…so, I humbly petition that my people be granted permission to return to Earth. Eric finished his meticulously prepared speech and remained on one knee, head bowed.

And remained kneeling.

And, teeth grinding, remained kneeling. Ouch! Dammit! There went a frecking tooth crumbling into pieces. He cast a small spell to knit it back together but stayed down. Must. Control. Temper.

Another tooth started to give, so he concentrated on the tower floor under his knee, trying for distraction. A dark red stone, veined with gold like most of the rock in the realm, sun-warm under his knee. Each stone carefully trimmed into a rectangle, twice as long as wide. As he knelt, his knee rested on one edge of the stone under him, his toe brushing the far side of the long slab in an almost perfect fit.

The tower he knelt on made a spacious L-shape with each leg ten stones long by five wide. The structure capped one of the front corners of his castle, guarding the main entrance road. As the highest point in Abaddon—his misbegotten, cursed kingdom—this open tower was, of course, the spot chosen for this meeting.

Oh, look. That stone is chipped. I should get the trolls out here to fix it.

So much for distraction. Out of further ideas, he again resisted the impulse to glance up, maintaining his subservient stance. The realm’s red sun beat down, warming his back and the nape of his neck where it emerged from his most scrupulously-formal royal robes. His jeweled crown threw glints of reflected light across the tower floor that danced with each breath. Thankfully, a light breeze kept the sun from scorching at the moment, though it brought other hardships.

The breeze carried the scent of food from the stalls in the city market below, making his stomach growl. He had fasted for two days, making him ravenous. He could almost taste the grilled meats prepared by the street vendors. His mouth was watering and stomach cramping with hunger, but with luck, his sacrifice would show dedication to his cause.

I’m still kneeling here, you arse. Next time I try this, I should bring a cushion to kneel on.

Finally, the being that had, eventually, answered his request for this audience deigned to speak. Your request was anticipated.

Eric stifled a sarcastic retort. He was asking something of an omniscient being; it was rather a given that his request was ‘anticipated.’

Oh, do get up, the one in front of him said. The top of your head shows even less emotion than your face does. You do know your facial muscles are designed to move, correct? Moreover, you look ridiculous trying to act humble, especially when it is so disingenuous.

The king had started to rise but froze at that last bit. If he didn’t play humble enough, convincing enough, would he doom his people still? I assure you, I–

Stop right there, Your Majesty, the being interrupted. Arrogance is not a mortal sin, luckily for you. Lying, on the other hand, is. Just stand up.

Warily, Eric stood. Raising his head to its customary arrogant tilt (which was apparently not a sin, thank all the demons in all seven levels of Hell), he eyed the being in front of him. Golden-white feathered wings arched high and almost swept the ground from behind a golden mane of hair on a head that towered above Eric’s own tall form. Glowing with a faint but unmistakable radiance declaring it a chosen of the Maker, the angel looked both out of place in the starkness of Abaddon and strangely in control of everything.

Not far from reality, Eric acknowledged to himself, his own kingship status notwithstanding. In name, Raphael may only have been a messenger, but in truth, he packed a heck of a wallop.

As I was saying, your request was anticipated. The Maker commends you for your progress so far. You have done a remarkable job over the past centuries controlling your…less savory…subjects.

Eric sensed a stirring of hope but smacked it down. The angel wasn’t finished yet.

However…

And here it comes. The king braced.

Less convincing is the idea that you and your subjects can be trusted to behave on Earth. The human population has many strengths, but they do not embody any adequate defense against the supernatural. Beings with the powers of your subjects would find humans easy prey if they were so inclined.

Eric twitched with an instinctive protest. Most of my subjects just live their lives without preying on anyone, human or otherwise.

Acknowledged, Raphael said. Nevertheless, there is a remaining concern. Is their restraint because they have no desire to overcome? Or no opportunity? Here in Abaddon, your subjects are evenly matched. They have defenses against each other, and there are no races so easy to overcome as the humans would be—or at least how the humans would appear to be. So, is it self-control or mutually assured destruction?

With clenched fists, Eric asked, How are we to prove our self-control if we are not allowed back on Earth?

You cannot, of course, Raphael replied. We also cannot allow Earth to be overrun with your subjects without such proof.

Frustrated anger welled up, and Eric wanted to rage at the skies. Would his people be held in the prison of Abaddon forever?

So, Raphael continued, you are required to represent your people and earn their freedom for them.

Eric’s rage paused to make way for the wary stirrings of hope. How?

You will be allowed free access to Earth, along with three others of your choosing. Once you leave this realm, you will integrate into human society as you wish your people to do. You will be watched. When you have proven to satisfaction that you will not be inclined to cause harm to Earth or its inhabitants, then you will win the right for your people to join you.

All I need to do is do no harm?

"You need to prove your intentions to do no harm," Raphael corrected.

"How do I prove intentions? Eric wanted to hit something. Preferably the angel in front of him. Good sense won the day, however, and he took a deep, calming breath instead. How can I prove I will not do something?"

Raphael held out an exquisite gold hourglass, filled with bright blue sand. Though sand filled the upper chamber of the glass, none flowed. It will not be a quick process. Regaining lost trust is a lengthy task. This hourglass will be your guide. With each bit of trust you gain, sand will flow. If and when the top chamber is empty, your return to Earth will be approved. Break the trust, and the hourglass will break. You will be returned here, and it is not likely such an offer will be extended again—to you or to your people.

Eric sucked in a breath. The glimpse of freedom glimmered into view, but…I cannot be away from the kingdom for long. The behavior of my people has improved, but they are not perfect. They still need a king. The last thing he needed was to win them the chance at freedom and return to find them devolved back into chaos. His people were not naturally inclined to goodness; that was the primary reason that Abaddon existed, after all.

This, too, was anticipated. You and your chosen companions will be allowed to come and go between Earth and Abaddon as needed. The Maker is aware of your people’s need for strong guidance.

What will we be allowed to take without censure? Will we start with nothing? We have been long gone from Earth, we no longer know their ways. Was he actually going to pull this off? Eric thought of the years spent tracking down histories concerning the Maker. The battle with old King Zed. The five centuries of defeating challenger after challenger, defending his reign. The interminable Council meetings and the never-ending battles to enforce his royal decrees. All of it just to get to this point. Had he finally made it?

Dealing with the humans would be like a vacation.

But it was too soon to celebrate. Raphael hadn’t finished and it wasn’t too late for him to yank it all away if Eric screwed this up. Pay attention.

You may take what you need, Raphael was saying. Gold, certainly. Abaddon is rife with it, and humans value it as currency. With money, you will have power on Earth even without your lich magic. With magic, your power will be virtually absolute. Raphael cocked a brow at him. Will absolute power corrupt you absolutely, King Eric? Your people’s fate depends on your answer.

Then Raphael was gone, leaving only the golden hourglass on the floor where he had stood.

Chapter 1

The sound of flesh hitting canvas was a non-stop staccato hum, and each sting of impact against Eric’s knuckles eased the pressure inside him a minuscule amount. Five hundred years. Defying his will, the thought flickered through his mind again, and his arms shot faster toward the heavy bag hanging in the gym he’d had installed off his office.

Five. Hundred. Damned. Years. Each word was pounded one-by-one into the sand-filled bag.

He could understand the first few decades. His pounding fists slowed slightly as he recalled them. He’d had a lot to learn. The humans of the fifteenth century had been barely civilized when compared to Abaddon, with a revolting prejudice against bathing. Eric had viewed them with contempt, arrogantly assuming that clemency would be granted merely because he felt the humans were too far beneath his notice for him to wish them harm. There was no question—now—as to why the Maker had not found him worthy those decades.

The first lesson was to feel charity towards the humans.

The next century, he and those he’d brought with him managed somewhat better. In the course of learning where charity was needed most, they found themselves beginning to see the humans as individuals. Individuals who sometimes had terrible luck, through fate or malice, and sometimes needed a helping hand to even the scales.

Justice was the second lesson.

Helmut. Eric’s fists pounded faster as he remembered the genial man they’d befriended in Germany in pursuit of advancing the cause of justice. The stolid, steadfast farmer with no ambition past the limits of his fields, cut down by armored knights in front of their eyes in the final days of the German Peasant’s Revolution, his glassy eyes left staring sightlessly at the rabbits he’d poached for their dinner, lying in the mud beside him. A good man killed for the temerity of wanting to retain enough of his harvest to keep from starving. Eric and the three others he’d brought with him from Abaddon had buried Helmut on his farm.

The frequent failure of justice was the third lesson.

The London of over a century later flowed into his head as the film reel of his failures played on in torturous detail. London…and Suzanne. Little Suzy. The toddler who reminded him of the perpetual rounds of children he had grown up with. Tiny Suzy who loved to toddle behind him, tugging at his coattails, and who couldn’t yet quite pronounce his name. He brought her a sweet from the market each time he visited, much to her mother’s laughing dismay. Her mother was the cook in one of the noble houses from which he and the others collected items to distribute to the poor of the city.

Compassion was the fourth lesson.

He’d thought perhaps they’d been close to succeeding in their mission in those days. The hourglass sand flowed well then. Before it stopped.

Then London also taught the lesson he was sure to this day was not in the Maker’s intended curriculum. In his mind’s eye, he still saw tiny Suzy. But he couldn’t quite picture her toddling behind him, recalling the gummy toddler grin only in the abstract. When he remembered Suzy now, all he could visualize was how he’d last seen her: a still, tiny, plague-riddled body turning cold next to the loving mother that had preceded her by mere hours.

Misery was the fifth lesson. The unintended one.

The sand-filled bag gave under the punishment of a particularly brutal punch, bursting and spilling sand to the floor in a slow stream. Finally stilling, Eric stared at it blankly. It struck him that fate was mocking him. So much sand falling, none of it blue.

There was still a half inch of sand in the top bell of the glass—unchanged for over six decades now.

Another bag bites the dust? inquired a sardonic voice.

Eric looked over to see Colin Gavinia, Captain of the Abbadon Royal Guard and his Earth-side Head of Security, with two open bottles of beer in his hand. The man knew him well.

Eric accepted the bottle and plopped heavily on his office couch. Colin collapsed next to him in a show of masculine solidarity and Eric presented to top of his bottle for a tap of salute. Eric tipped his bottle, and the cool slide of malt soothed his parched throat.

Still no movement, I take it? Colin ventured.

None, Eric grunted. Charity, philanthropy, even helping little old ladies cross the damn street, and still not one more blasted grain dropped for over half a century now. What the heck is the old bastard looking for? Eric conjured a glowing ball of power and ran it over his fingers irritably.

Perhaps for you to not think or talk about him as an ‘old bastard’? Colin’s suggestion was accompanied by a wry grin.

Eric snorted and tossed the power ball over to balance on top of his beer. I was told this whole farce was to prove worthy intentions, not a complete personality change. Even the Old Man can’t expect that.

Colin acknowledged the point with a quirked brow and a salute-and-swig of his beer.

Eric sighed and tilted his head back to rest on the plushly cushioned back of the sofa, his knee bouncing, the ball of power now ricocheting off his hand like an upside down yo-yo—ignoring Colin’s raised brow at the frantic speed betraying his king’s level of agitation. Colin had seen worse; he’d get over it.

Abruptly, Eric surged to his feet. He viciously threw the power ball at the wall to explode in an impressive display of fortunately-harmless sparks and started pacing. The sands slowed when we stopped doing charity directly and formed the company to do it for us. Bastard wants us to get close to people again. He stopped and stared sightlessly out the window. I can’t do that again, Colin. I keep seeing Helmut. And Suzy. All the others.

His mind went there again, replaying all the human friends they’d made and lost over the centuries. Like his Mata taking in an orphaned lich child without a second thought to be raised alongside the clan’s own children, Eric had grown up knowing how to care for those younger and weaker than him. Everyone was important to the clan and the strongest always protected the weakest. Eric was extremely strong so protecting the other children had been his job since before he’d reached his teens. As king, he couldn’t limit his protection to just his clan anymore, but the instincts were still there.

The humans reminded him of all those children. He wanted—needed—to care for them, too. And he couldn’t.

Colin rose to stand next to him. He went to place a hand on his Eric’s shoulder, but pulled it back before connecting, clasping his hands behind his back instead, feet shoulder-width apart. They enriched our lives for knowing them, my liege. Would you deny yourself that enrichment again?

Eric spun to glare at him. They all die! He turned back to the window. No matter what we do, they all die.

Do you deny yourself the beauty of a snowfall, then, because it will melt in the spring? asked a feminine voice.

The men turned to see Eric’s admin, Jackie, in the doorway, files in hand. Eric’s current Earth persona was the CEO of Agoodon Enterprises, a grocery chain expanded now to include several industries. Jacalyn Sanchez had started working for him as a wily, bright-eyed twenty-year-old and had accidentally caught him casting magic in his office three years later. Her unflappable calm had astonishingly held through the subsequent explanations—and had carried her through almost fifty years of strange doings since. She was the only human aware of what Eric was, and the best damn admin he’d ever had, keeping both his Earth and Abaddon schedules straight and guarding his door against others who might catch him, making his office an unexpected haven. She’d even recently handled the necessary ‘hand-over’ that Eric had to manage every couple of decades from ‘father’ to ‘son’ to hide his longevity.

He’d first shown his appreciation with the gift of a honeymoon for her wedding—and subsequently with birthday gifts to her children, and eventually her grandchildren, and help with their college funds. But at seventy-two she was making noises about retirement and frankly, he wasn’t sure Agoodon would survive it.

Now, she stepped forward with a look of motherly concern on her face. Eric, as powerful as you are, you are not responsible for the entire human race. Humans are not immortal like those of Abaddon, nor are we meant to be. Miss us when we’re gone, yes. But don’t close yourself off from knowing us at all. We both lose when you do. I have enjoyed knowing you all tremendously. And I hope, once I’m gone, you can look back and smile on this time that you knew me.

Jackie, I would make you immortal, if I could. I’ve lost enough friends.

She smiled fondly and shook her head. I wouldn’t want you to. She paused and then asked, Eric, in all your centuries hopping back and forth between here and Abaddon, how many inventions would you say were conceived of by Abbadonites? I mean, beyond converting Earth machines to run off magic instead of electricity? How many brand new, truly innovative things have been thought of all on their own in Abaddon?

The apparent non-sequitur made him pause, but Jackie always had a point to make. Thinking back, he tried to remember. And failed. I can’t think of any, in truth. Abaddon has changed greatly over the last centuries, yes, but mostly because the Board and I brought back Earth technology for them to duplicate.

Jackie nodded. That’s what I thought. She smiled warmly and rested her hand on his arm. Eric, the human race is short-lived, and we know it. But that is our strength, not a weakness you should try to overcome for us. It makes us strive to do more during those brief lives. Each new generation spawns new ideas and new ways of thinking. You in Abaddon are so long-lived there is little change and no urgency at all to make any. Your birth rate is low, meaning your population rarely changes. Or, at least, only very slow changes. Human society changes every fifty years or so. Sometimes more often. The older generation, so stuck in their ways, dies off and the new generation takes over. Brand new people bringing brand new ideas. We invent. We improve. We innovate. If we were immortal like you, we would be as hidebound as most of your people.

It was an intriguing thought. One he hadn’t considered before.

I will lose you, Jackie.

She smiled at him. Don’t think of all the good friends you have lost, Eric. Think of the many wonderful people you have known. People who would have never been born if the human race did not cycle through generations so quickly.

A slight twitch of lips answered her as Eric attempted to return her smile, unsuccessfully. He shook his head. What am I going to do without you to keep me in line?

Actually, she said hesitantly, moving a nervous step away, I’ve meant to ask you about that. I’d like your permission to bring my granddaughter in to train as my replacement. I know this is a bad day to bring this up, sir, being so busy. But she’s perfect for the job, and she’s getting ready to head out of the country to find work. She hasn’t had any luck getting the kind of position she wants in this country, with the job market how it is –

Jackie, Eric interrupted her uncharacteristic babble of words, "if you think she’s perfect for the job, I can think of no better recommendation. And, honestly, I’m relieved you have someone in mind. You’ve been threatening me with your retirement for years now, and I’ve been terrified. But are you sure she’ll be okay with me? With all of the job?"

Jacalyn smiled. She’s a level-headed girl, sir. And not prone to prejudice—of any kind. I haven’t shared your secrets, but I’m sure she’ll do just fine once she gets to know you.

Eric nodded. Okay, then. Go ahead and bring her in the next time I have a full-Earth day. Let’s start her slowly. Give her a month or two of getting accustomed to us before we introduce her to Abaddon. What do you say?

Of course, sir. And thank you.

Eric turned to Colin. I assume you came in for a reason other than my bout of self-pity. What’ve you got?

I went through the portal this morning to check in. The rumblings in Abaddon are getting louder. They’re starting to wonder if you can manage this. There is talk of trying to depose you and send someone else.

Eric snorted. At this point, I’m almost inclined to let them. Who’s the current top runner?

Shon.

Mendazo? Eric questioned. The sphinx?

Colin nodded.

Eric snorted again. Not a bad choice in truth, he acknowledged, at least on the surface. He’s a sphinx, though, so you never know what’s going on behind the scenes. And there is always something going on behind the scenes with them. What’s he been up to?

He’s still in the capital city and hasn’t changed his routine at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he wasn’t aware of the talk at all, Colin told him.

So, either he’s oblivious—not likely—or he’s trying to ignore it in hopes it fades away. Or else he’s just waiting for the explosion and letting others start the work for him. And we’ve no way to tell which one. Lovely. Eric tossed another power ball at the wall and watched it explode into a harmless, yet oddly satisfying, fireworks display.

I thought he was a friend of yours. Do you truly suspect him of treason?

He has been a friend—a valuable one. But hell, Colin, if I were my subject, I’d sure as hell be considering treason by now.

You liches, Colin scoffed. So impatient. We gryphons understand how to bide our time.

Eric glared at the gryphon in question but declined to argue with the truth. Five hundred years we’ve been trying to figure this out. At least that first couple of centuries had progress to be seen. We had our bumps and setbacks of course. Eric recalled with a shudder the one time the hourglass had started to develop a crack. Thankfully, they’d gotten out of that one, and the crack had repaired itself. But for centuries, we made excellent progress. And now for the past 65 years, nothing. Nada. Not one damn grain has dropped.

Are you sure? Maybe you missed it. Colin peered at the hourglass as if he might catch something his king had overlooked.

I spelled the damn thing so I’d feel each time a grain dropped, remember? I wanted the immediate feedback.

Well, maybe the spell has faded. It has been a long time.

Eric sighed, tired of it all. He’d come to Earth arrogant and over-confident and had his ego trampled in the dirt next to Suzy and Helmut. Just once, he wanted someone he could share the burden with. Even Colin, close as they were now, always saw him as king first and friend a distant second. Eric couldn’t betray the depth of the hopelessness he felt because Colin needed him to be the strong king. But he let himself get as close as he dared. I refresh the blasted thing every year like clockwork. It’s still working. Perhaps they’re right, and I should let someone else give it a go. I’m sure as hell not getting anywhere. He faked a light tone, as if he were joking.

No one else could do more, Eric. You’ve devoted your life to this. If your people don’t understand that, then they don’t deserve you. Have patience. And Shon wouldn’t be better—he’d likely be worse. He has never shown any inclinations towards charity or selflessness. Or any interest in leading people from the throne either, to be honest. In spite of the rumblings, you’re still the only one who can do this. You’ll figure it out. We will figure it out. And that’s even presuming the Maker would allow a replacement anyway.

Eric sighed again and went silent for a long while. The truth was, Colin was right. Shon was a good guy—potential traitor notwithstanding. But he was a bit of a recluse, stayed to himself and didn’t bother with others. He certainly didn’t put himself out to help others. Eric might have to drag his people kicking and screaming behind him, but he was the only one who could lead them back to Earth. The only one with both the will and temperament to make it happen—and the strength enough to do the dragging.

Well, sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn’t helping, either. Jackie, what have you got?

You’ve got a fundraiser tonight on Earth and a council meeting over lunch in Abaddon. Security is prepped on both planes, according to Mr. Gavinia. She nodded at Colin. And here are the relevant files.

Remind me again why I scheduled them both on the same day?

You said you wanted to get them both over quickly—like shooting a cup of bad-tasting medicine over your tongue too fast to taste it.

Right. How’s that working for me again?

As well as usual, sir.

Damn.

Chapter 2

Deciding he needed a breather to relax before the rush of the rest of the upcoming day, Eric went outside for a walk. Out of long habit, he tuned out the presence of the bodyguard Colin insisted on and started strolling down the street in a random direction.

He had placed the Agoodon headquarters here because of its location. Abaddon was loosely shaped and sized like North America and, if the two were overlaid, Capital City would be in southeastern Virginia, so that’s where he had placed the Agoodon headquarters. He found having both his castle and the Agoodon main office in the same relative place geographically helped him feel more at home. It also made the geographies of the two realms easier to keep straight in his head when he kept having to bounce back and forth between them.

Even though the location hadn’t been chosen for its climate, the region was beautiful. Temperate enough to experience all four seasons in good measure, the area was dominated by tall pines and hardwoods and riddled with waterways. Every climate had its problems, of course. It could get muggy and buggy in the summers, bitter and icy in the winters. But today it was cool, sunny and perfect, with a light breeze tickling the hair on Eric’s arms and carrying the scents of cut grass and flowering plants, only occasionally marred by the odor of car exhaust.

The deep green of the trees and bushes was both a comfort and a jarring irritation. While green plants did grow in Abaddon, most grew in shades of red, yellow, or even silver. The light from a reddish sun cast everything with the same glow, and even the plants they had brought back from Earth over the centuries tended to develop the same ruddy complexion after a generation or two as they fought to survive.

The bright greens of the trees around him on Earth made the air feel so much fresher and relaxing than in the realm, in spite of Abaddon’s weaker sun. Conversely, the difference in color reminded him that the comfort he got from their towering presence was something the rest of his people didn’t have access to, which countered their positive effect on his mood.

Several blocks down the street in a direction he hadn’t explored before, he came upon a small park containing a single slide, a spring-bottomed rocking…something, and a simple pair of swings. Each swing held a small child, giggling madly, laughing at the teasing efforts of a woman in a wheelchair who sat in front of them. But what caught his attention most was the other woman standing behind the children, pushing the swings.

She was so bright.

Her face was hidden by the angle of her body, but her aura shone like the sun. Cool blues, greens, and purples touched with a bright yellow, reminding him of sunlight on a peacock—and so bright and shining with pure goodness that it almost hurt to look at her. Auras were not his most active area of magical strength, and he didn’t often see them without some effort, but hers appeared to jump out at him, all but calling his name. He paused in the street to stare as if she were a painter’s masterwork.

In the park, Tamara pushed the twins again as they swung back toward her.

They’re getting so big, Amy! she told their mother.

Amy grinned from her chair where she sat tickling tiny toes as they came into range. I know! Hard to believe they started out as preemies, isn’t it?

They sure have made up for their small birth weight, Tamara said. I think you must be feeding them too much. They’re growing like Otto the fish.

The twin boys giggled harder at the reference to one of their favorite books, A Fish Out of Water, which had a tiny goldfish outgrowing a swimming pool because of how