Delver Magic Book VII: Altered Messages (14 page)

"Struggling will only cause you greater pain," Samk threatened. "Your anger is out of control and it will destroy you."

The threat was empty and Okyiq could sense it. The goblin's anger brushed away every stab of pain. Rage swelled within him and began to repel the serp's hold. He was slowly regaining control of his movements

Samk wrestled with the goblin's rebelling mind, experienced a struggle that he could not conceive. The serp tried to regain control, even offered a surprising compromise.

"You don't have to kneel. Just stand there, but stop fighting me!"

Okyiq could no longer hear the words. The hulking goblin roared with anger. He pressed with fury against the invader that had taken hold of his mind. As his rage grew, he didn't even attempt to clear the serp's face from his mind. Instead, he concentrated upon it, centered his expanding wrath directly upon the image of Samk. His fury turned to hate, and his emotions boiled within his entire being.

The serp stared back at the enraged monster in sheer disbelief. He was losing control. The magical impulses from his manipulative mind were being hurled away.

"Stop fighting me!" Samk screamed.

But Okyiq would not stop.
He started to turn the twisted angry thoughts into commands of his own. He took back control of his body. To prove it, he straightened his back and his legs.

It was a moment without precedent. A goblin had successfully rebelled against the direct control of a serp, all because he would not kneel before another. No one was his master. Without realizing it, Samk had gone too far. He had tried to make Okyiq do the one thing he was unwilling to do, completely submit to another.

With the serp's hold gone from his mind, Okyiq stepped closer to his enemy.

Samk cowered and an expanding fear tightened around his own consciousness. His attempts to regain control of the goblin dwindled to pathetic efforts that would not hold the focus of the smallest of insects. The desperation that burdened him turned into complete capitulation.

"You're free," Samk shouted. "I will not fight you any longer. Stay here as long as you want. You want the forest? It's yours."

But it was too late. Okyiq would not be satisfied with empty promises or vain offerings. He wouldn't even listen to pleas for mercy. He would keep the promise he made.

The goblin stood still for a moment, regarding the serp with a new understanding. He realized how he was able to free his mind from the serp's manipulations and he knew he could do it again, if it was necessary.

"Your mind linked to other snake faces, yes?" the goblin demanded, but he already knew the answer.

When Samk held his thoughts, Okyiq could sense the connection to other serps. He had heard Samk's request for a spell caster, knew that the lines of communication had been opened. He wanted to get each serp's attention, and so he pressed for confirmation.

"They hear us, can't they?"

"Yes," was all Samk could muster.

"Then let serps know they can't control me. No one controls me! They try again and they all die. That's my promise. Do they hear?"

The other serps did indeed hear the enormous goblin's charge, but they offered no response. Far across the land, they watched the scene in astonishment. They never would have believed a goblin could have ever overcome the control of a serp.

Samk did not respond to Okyiq's question. He had hoped that the other serps would intervene, send aid. He trembled, for there was nothing he could do on his own.

"They do hear, yes?" Okyiq demanded.

"I think so," Samk mumbled.

"Don't matter what you think. I know... can tell. They hear. I sense them. Feel the confusion. Not only yours, theirs too."

Samk said nothing. He wasn't sure about the others in the council, but he could not deny his own panic. It swallowed him to a point where the magical connection to the other serps seemed distant, almost completely detached.

Okyiq glared at the serp.

"Time for serps to see what my promises mean. I promised if I turned around, you die. I turned around."

Samk froze in the complete comprehension of what was about to happen, but even if he could move, he never would have been able to avoid his fate.

Okyiq's huge hand knifed through the air as if it had been shot from an elf's bow. His fingers took hold of the serp's throat and tightened immediately. With ease, he lifted Samk up off the ground and held him high in the air. Part of the goblin wanted to make the serp suffer, but a larger portion wanted to make an immediate statement to the other serps he knew were still connected to the one in his clutches. With all his might, he tightened his hand into a fist, crushing Samk's entire neck in his palm.

The serp died instantly, and the moment he did, a burst of crimson energy burst from his body and soared up over the trees and out of Okyiq's sight. The goblin somehow knew it was part of the magic that kept the serps connected.

Realizing he was alone and the link to the other serps had been broken, Okyiq saw nothing to gain from further theatrics. He tossed Samk's limp body as far off as he could, allowed it to be a meal for any passing shag, and then returned to the thick brush. He was asleep again in mere moments.

The situation with Okyiq was disturbing, even somewhat astounding. The goblin was known to have a strong will and even possess a penchant for critical thought. The serps of the council understood these traits when they first approached the beast, even hoped to utilize them for their own benefit, but the incident in Dark Spruce bordered on the realm of the impossible. The thought of a goblin overpowering the will of a serp was similar to that of a mouse devouring a shag.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for a serp to lose control over a lesser monster. Each member of the council had taken over the minds of thousands of creatures only to have them eventually slip away, but that normally occurred over time or distance. If a goblin ventured too far from its master and experienced a traumatic event, fear might wash away a serp's influence. Also, if a serp disregarded a goblin for too long, the control would begin to wane and the goblin would be more likely to consider its own desires.

Regarding the occurrence in the forest, time and distance were essentially immaterial. As opposed to disregarding the goblin, Samk was fully engaged in taking over the beast's thoughts, but he had failed. It cost him his life. Simply put, Okyiq's hostility proved stronger than Samk's will, and that was a startling consideration.

Each serp wondered if such an episode was merely an aberration or if it was possible that it might happen again. It was not simple curiosity that fueled their interest. The very structure of serp influence had been put in question. Ignoring the incident would be beyond foolish, but they could ill afford the lost time. Despite the magnitude of the issue, further consideration of Okyiq's rebellion would have to wait.

The death of Samk created the very problem Desiv wished to avoid when he advocated a total of six members for the council. With the council falling to five members, each serp recognized the new dynamic and began scheming to exploit the situation for his or her own advantage. It was just as Desiv feared, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

Eventually, the issue would have to be addressed, but that, too, would have to wait. Certain decisions had already been made and intricate designs had already succeeded in creating the necessary atmosphere for further manipulation. An appraisal of current conditions was in order, as were the preparations for the next phase of attack.

The five serps had gathered together in a large merchant's house that rested upon a rocky cliff and offered a scenic view of the coast. Obtaining possession of the residence was a simple matter. They had convinced the merchant he would be better off relocating to the center of Portsans where he would have increased contact with more lucrative commercial interests. They even persuaded a few establishments to offer trade agreements that would keep the merchant happy... and occupied.

The large house offered the necessary room and seclusion for the serps to manage their plans. It served not only as a base of operations, but also as a temporary quarters for individuals involved in their schemes. One such individual was Petiole the elf, and he was brought before the five members of the council by the sorceress Rivira.

Petiole entered the room slowly, but not out of concern for his safety. He remained frail from his imprisonment. He disregarded the serps who sat at an oak table in the center of a large dining hall. He stood on shaky legs as he examined the elegant rug under his feet. The elf appeared enamored by the colors and the intricate designs woven into the floor covering.

Each serp carefully probed Petiole's mind, gently and subtly attempting to twist his thoughts into a much more compliant state. They did not wish to overwhelm the elf, for they could sense the fragile state of his consciousness. If they forged forward with too much pressure, they knew they would drive him into an abyss of confusion.

The serps decided to allow Macheve to communicate directly with the elf elder, for they believed the tone of her voice would nearly match the lyrical pitch of an elf. If Petiole was to prove useful, he either had to comply willingly or be coerced into accepting the appropriate role.

"Do you know where you are?" the female serp asked.

Petiole did not respond. He started moving his foot along the patterns in the rug which held his attention.

"Do you realize you have been freed?"

Still, no answer.

"Are you aware you are among friends and far from all of your enemies?"

The elf continued to ignore her, and Macheve decided to put forth facts as opposed to asking questions.

"You have been freed from the dwarf dungeon. You have been brought to the coast, to the city of
Portsans. You are far from the dwarf city. Your oppressors cannot reach you here. You are safe."

She paused as she probed deeper into the elf's mind, tried to determine if any of her words had an impact. She sensed little beyond the foundation of resentment that formed the heart of Petiole's consciousness. Nothing she said stirred his stagnant bitterness into a stronger emotion. It remained steady, and the concept of safety did little to raise any level of newfound comfort.

"We will protect you," Macheve continued, hoping to build a bridge of trust. She even offered a level of freedom that the other serps found disconcerting. "This house is your new home. You may explore it at will. You may even leave whenever you wish. We will not force you to stay."

One of the other serps was about to protest, but Macheve quickly silenced her critic before any objection could be raised.

"Of course, we can only guarantee your safety as long as you stay near us. To travel beyond the limits of your new home will open you to recapture. It is, of course, up to you, but we advise that you avoid leaving the premises."

Macheve paused again, and probed even deeper into the elf's mind. She was failing to reach Petiole in any meaningful way. All she could sense was the ripple of resentment that burned like a steady flame within a glass covered lamp. With little to lose, she moved in a new direction.

"You can rest here. There will be no burdens placed upon you. You won't have to make any decisions and all your needs will be met."

Petiole finally stirred and Macheve sensed a greater wave of passion sweeping through the elf's mind. It was not, however, what she expected. He did not latch on to her words with a sense of hope, or even relief. She felt Petiole's anger growing, and the small flame of bitterness seemed to expand.

While she would have preferred to have Petiole responding in a much more agreeable manner, she couldn't dismiss the negative reaction. Realizing that anger was an emotion she could use, Macheve attempted to find the fuel that fed the growing rage.

"Are you tired?"

Petiole did not respond.

"Do you feel burdened?"

Again, no response.

"Does this decision weigh upon you?"

Petiole grimaced and another wave of anger raged through his confused thoughts. A very clear notion broke through the otherwise disjointed threads of his consciousness. He recalled his time as the council elder, when he was the one elf responsible for every decision of his camp. One simple concept had ignited his hostile reaction.

Decisions!

Macheve could almost hear the word echoing throughout Petiole's twisted mind. It was the spark that evoked a reaction. She probed deeper into Petiole's troubled mind, focused on his memories and began placing the pieces together.

"Your decisions were questioned," she declared, as she began to follow Petiole's twisted thoughts. "The elves doubted you. They fought against your every move. It wasn't just your authority they questioned, it was also your integrity. They looked upon you as a weak leader."

Petiole finally spoke.

"But I was the
leader
, whether they liked it or not," Petiole hissed.

"Yes, you were, and for a while, you led with absolute authority."

"Not absolute," Petiole whined. "Others doubted me, even mocked me. Lief Woodson..."