Free Soul of Skulls (Book 6) by Jonathan Moeller

the serpent priest, “I am known as Skalatan.”
    Malaric flinched, and Skalatan’s yellow eyes turned towards him.
    “You know of me, human?” said Skalatan. “Then speak.”
    “Yes,” said Lucan. “Do tell.”
    Malaric kept his eyes fixed on the serpent. “He is one of the seven San-keth archpriests. Certainly the oldest, and probably the most powerful. He would rule the San-keth race, but…”
    The San-keth did not have expressions as humans did, but Malaric suspected that Skalatan was amused. “Go on.”
    “The other archpriests regard him as a dangerous madman,” said Malaric. “They would have killed him by now…but anyone who challenges him tends to die. Abruptly.”
    “Quite true,” murmured Skalatan. “The blind foolish children. But they shall learn, in time.” The yellow eyes dug into Malaric. “Tell me of yourself, human. You are curiously well informed.”
    “I am Malaric of Barellion,” said Malaric. And then, on impulse, he kept speaking. “Malaric Chalsain of Barellion, the eldest son of Prince Everard Chalsain, and the rightful heir to the throne of Barellion.”
    Lucan’s lip twitched in amusement, but Malaric did not care. Why not claim his rightful name? He would take it once he returned to Barellion. And much more, besides. 
    “Ah,” said Skalatan. “My spies reported that you traveled in the company of Lucan Mandragon before the Great Rising. Perhaps we shall be of use to each other.”
    “As fascinating as I find San-keth theology and Malaric’s illustrious lineage,” said Lucan, “I assume you did not track me down for idle conversation.” 
    “Indeed not,” said Skalatan. “I know the truth of you, Lucan Mandragon. I know why you conjured the Great Rising.” 
    “Oh?” said Lucan. “Do you? Please, enlighten me.”
    “You have spawned a dozen different legends,” said Skalatan. “The men of the Grim Marches and the High Plain say you did it to conquer the world. My brother archpriests fear that the high lords of Dracaryl have risen from the dead with an undead army. The Justiciar Order declares that the runedead are a scourge from the Amathavian gods to punish the unrighteous. The rebel Caraster of Mastaria claims that the runedead have risen at his command to cleanse the world of the wealthy and the corrupt.”
    “And which of those do you believe?” said Lucan.
    “None of them,” said Skalatan. “I know you cast the Great Rising to destroy the Demonsouled, Lucan Mandragon. Just as your distant ancestor Randur Maendrag did.”
    Lucan stood silent for a moment. Malaric looked at the revenant and the serpent priest. Skalatan wanted something. But what? 
    “Then you knew Randur?” said Lucan.
    “For decades,” said Skalatan. The skeleton beneath the robe creaked. “I was already in my third century when he came to power. There was an…accord between my race and the high lords of Old Dracaryl. They understood power, and wished to learn our necromantic secrets. So we found each other profitable.” 
    Lucan grunted. “Randur never mentioned that he studied under the San-keth.”
    “You met him, then?” said Skalatan.
    Lucan smiled. “Briefly. But to the point, honored archpriest. You know I intend to rid the world of the Demonsouled forever. Have you come to stop me?”
    “Not at all,” said Skalatan. “I have come to offer you my aid.” 
    Malaric blinked in surprise.
    “Have you?” said Lucan. “Curious. The Demonsouled and the San-keth have often been allied.”
    “To the ruin of the San-keth,” said Skalatan. “My brother archpriests and I disagree on this matter. They believe the San-keth can use the power of the Demonsouled for conquest, to destroy the races of man. They are fools. The Demonsouled are too powerful to be controlled. Time and time again I have seen this. Skhath sought to ally with the Old Demon, and we lost the temple beneath Castle Cravenlock. Straganis allied with Amalric Galbraith to take vengeance upon Mazael