Spirit Past (Book 8) (12 page)

Jure wanted to question the assertion, but the trembling voice of the elder made it clear that she believed what she had stated and was greatly afraid. Knowing that very little could cause such panic in the elf leader, Jure placed even greater attention on the scene below.

With his eyes, he followed the trail of a light mist, and he noted the large fog bank that engulfed a wide portion of the trees in the distance. He could also hear the sounds of battle from deeper in the haze.

"Who is fighting?" Jure asked, desiring as much information as possible.

"They brought river rogues into our camp. The guard is trying to establish..."

"Do not worry about the rogues," Macheve interrupted in her own voice, Reiculf deciding to drift back and allow the serp and elf to handle the wizard. "They are a distraction, nothing more."

Jure continued to scan the forest below. He quickly spotted the remains of several elves, their bodies almost entirely obliterated. He sensed the energy behind the magical lightning. He could follow the remnants of the spell directly to Scheff.

"I thought you had learned your lesson," Jure asked of the elf spell caster.

"I did," Scheff admitted, "but I also learned that I can not be free of what I was. I could not erase my mistakes."

"Sounds like a poor excuse to me... a poor excuse to kill your fellow elves."

"I am not what you think," the elf sneered.

"Reiculf is within the serp," Shantree warned the wizard. "I saw it. I believe he is in Scheff as well."

During his long nights of restlessness, Jure also read... and he studied the legends. He knew of Reiculf, and though he had many questions, he knew it was not the time to discuss details. He decided instead to question the elf directly.

"Is that true, Scheff? Has Reiculf taken control of you?"

"Control? You think that is all... that he is simply influencing what I can do? Hardly. Let me show you just how much of Reiculf is within me."

Scheff turned about and faced the trees still shrouded in fog. He stretched his arms out in front of him, his palms turned down to the ground. Instead of a single circle of pure violet magic, three rings of colorless energy enveloped his arms. The energy swirled about, distorting the air like heat from a fire. When the elf spell caster lifted his hands, all three circles exploded outward.

An immense wave of force flushed the fog from the trees. It shattered hundreds of branches and sent debris flying through the air, creating a dust storm that raged outward and followed the departing fog. The force blast also sent elves and river rogues sprawling, and many ended up in intertwined piles across the forest floor.

Scheff turned back to face the wizard clinging to the tree.

"That was nothing more than a simple whisper. Imagine if I shout."

It was not so much the force of the spell that caught Jure's attention; it was the three distorted rings which had appeared around the elf's arms that left the wizard in shock. Jure understood the implications. He worked with Enin, who was powerful beyond measure, and he cast in two circles. Three was nearly incomprehensible. Jure could not imagine how long it would take to reach such proficiency—probably eons.

It was a clear indication he was dealing with far more than a serp and an elf spell caster, but not the only one. Another aspect of Scheff's display fashioned additional dread into the wizard's aging heart.

The lack of hue, the near transparent quality of the energy, was even more alarming than the three rings. Magic without color signaled the truth of Scheff's claims and the basis for Shantree's fears. Colorless energy lacked a bond to any of the base elements. It was not water or fire, not land or storm, not light or even shadow. Instead, the energy was without foundation, sculpted solely by the whim of the caster into whatever force was deemed necessary.

It was magic that was pulled from sources outside the aspirations of ordinary creatures, energy that swelled far beyond the very existence of Uton. Jure found it difficult to imagine any individual casting transparent energy into spells, for such magic could not pass through the core of a mortal being without being tinted by the inherent aspects of the caster.

Magic without color was energy that knew no limits. It could be used for good or evil, but the obvious distortion within the energy made it clear that its intended purpose would be based on malice. In the serp and the elf, Jure was facing the wickedness of Reiculf in both intention and intensity.

With the fog swept away and the dust cloud rolling off through the trees, Jure could finally see the elf camp. The guards were regrouping, but many of the elves remained in disarray. He could see dozens scrambling back up trees, some assisting others wounded from a fall or from the blunt force of Scheff's spell.

Thankfully, the river rogues were not spared from the blast. They had been knocked to the ground as well, and many were being dispatched by the elf guards. With the fog cleared, elf archers could finally see their targets, and a hail of arrows rained down upon the beasts.

Jure believed the elves could handle the remnants of the rogues, but he knew he could not expect them to assist him. After the sudden attack, they were in no condition to battle two intruders wielding the hateful energy of Reiculf. If Shantree was going to survive, he would have to find the way on his own.

Realizing he was outmatched in numbers and raw power, Jure searched desperately for the means to escape. He knew he couldn't teleport himself and Shantree away. Any such spell would leave a trail, and they would be followed. He wouldn't be able to hide. He could try to keep ahead of their pursuers, but he would only be able to teleport so many times before his reserve of magic ran dry. If Scheff and the serp were drawing on Reiculf's magic, then he would run out of energy long before they did.

The only possible way he could match them would be to utilize his own gift for being in tune with magical flows. If he opened himself up to the full current of magic surging across the land, he could potentially acquire enough magic to save Shantree. He would not, however, be able to save himself. He would not be able to turn off the flow, and the magic would tear him apart.

The thought frightened him, he could not deny it, but the truth remained inescapable. The two intruders were not going to let him survive, and if they did, how could he live with himself knowing he sacrificed Shantree to save his own existence? There was but one path for him, and Jure always believed his journeys were aided by a higher power. If it was the wish of
Providence for him to perish protecting the elf elder, so be it.

Knowing he had to strike quickly, Jure chose the only course of action certain to save the elf leader. Even utilizing the magic surging out of
Dark Spruce Forest, he did not believe he could destroy the two intruders, at least not both of them. His best alternative was to break through their defenses and cast them away. In order to do so, he would have to surprise them.

Allowing the magic to fuel his movements, he reached out to the energy flowing from the forest. He opened himself up completely and the magic spilled into his core with the force of a waterfall. The rush of power energized his body and allowed him to move with the speed and agility of an elf. His quick decisions surprised his enemies, including Reiculf who was watching from the center of Demonspawn.

Scheff and Macheve stared in shock as the elderly wizard leapt from the tree directly toward them. The fall would probably kill the old man, and yet he streaked down towards them willingly, aided by magic and moving like a wild animal. They both managed to cast spells to shield themselves from the plummeting wizard, and they would deal with him harshly if he somehow survived the fall. They never got the chance.

Upon touching the magical barriers, Jure unleashed the energy surging through his body in two separate yet equally powerful spells. The first battered the shields surrounding the elf and serp. The pounding pressure shook the ground they stood upon, uprooted several nearby trees. Despite the immeasurable force hammering at the two shields, it could not completely dissolve them, but it did shred them enough to create sufficient breaches for his subsequent incantation to work effectively.

With portions of both shields in tatters, Jure's second spell cascaded through the gaps and took hold of both intruders. A wave of energy rushed out of the wizard and into the open space around them all. A portal began to open, enveloping the elf, the serp, and what was left of their magical barriers. The shields, at first, kept the portal from reaching completion, but such was the force surging out of Jure that the individual barriers could not withstand the pressure growing within their walls. When they burst, the rift opened up and swallowed Scheff and Macheve.

Just as the portal closed, a brilliant white explosion broke off the spell. The surging magic that had raged through the wizard came to an immediate halt. The ground below Jure erupted; dirt and rock flew in every direction. The very air shuddered, and it felt as if all of Dark Spruce was about to collapse.

Shantree managed to hang on to her perch in the tree, as much by luck as by Jure's efforts to send the force of magic away from the one he hoped to save. Her arms were wrapped tensely around a thick limb and her fingers had dug deep into the bark. She had lost her footing, but she kept from falling.

The tree she stood within had shifted in the ground, leaned heavily to one side. Its branches interlocked with a neighboring oak that had withstood the barrage of blasts. Most of the surrounding trees, however, did not fare nearly as well.

As Shantree regained her footing and shook off the effects of the explosion, she peered down to the ground, fearing what she would see. The large smoking crater revealed the extent of the blast, and she knew no human could survive such a release of energy. And yet, Jure stood upright in the very center of the hollow.

The elf elder climbed downward as she called to the wizard, but Jure did not respond. Shantree ran to his side and looked deep into his eyes. He stared off into the distance at nothing in particular, seemingly unaware of the elf elder.

"Jure?" Shantree tried to gain his attention once more and shook him lightly.

The wizard finally reacted. He stumbled as his legs buckled underneath him. He almost hit the ground, but he was able to steady himself with Shantree's help. He looked about, uncertain of his surroundings.

"Are you alright?" the elder inquired.

The wizard looked down across his body, felt his arms and legs, and seemed surprise to find no damage whatsoever.

"I think so," he mumbled.

"How were you able to survive that?"

"I... I don't know."

"What did you do?"

Jure could not answer immediately. At first, events were as hazy as the fog that had recently engulfed the elf camp. Slowly, portions of what had happened gained clarity in his mind.

"I teleported them away. I thought it was the best way to save you."

"Where did you send them?"

"As far away as possible, beyond the furthest reaches of reality."

"Why didn't you just destroy them?"

"Reiculf's energy. It's too vast. He would have saved at least one of them, no matter how much magic I used. I had to get rid of them both, but I had to send them far enough away that it would take an enormous amount of energy for them to return. If they did, they wouldn't be able to attack you, at least not right away. The other elves would have been able to help you."

To confirm his statement, several elf guards came running toward the site and surrounded the elf elder. Birk Grund quickly followed, accompanied by Haven Wellseed.

"You see?" Jure acknowledged. "If they come back, we have enough help now."

"But they will come back," a voice called out from deeper within the woods.

Through the forest and around several downed trees, Enin led a group of individuals that Jure knew very well. He would have been thankful to see them all, until he recognized one among them who he did not consider an ally.

"Ansas?"

"I should destroy all of you!" Reiculf roared. "I should tear the skin from your bodies one small strand at a time and then toss you into pits of gravel for maggots to feast upon your open flesh!"

Reiculf looked down on Scheff, Macheve, and Gnafil. In the deeper recesses of their minds, he could see that all three wondered if death might not be better than their current fate. He made it clear it would not.

"Before you escaped through death, I would restore you and do it over and over again! And when I grew tired of hearing your screams, I would take what is left of your essence—that which is now completely mine—and I would feast upon it. That is the least of what you deserve!"

Gnafil wished to protest. He did not fail his master, at least not regarding the elf. Macheve and Scheff had entered Dark Spruce on their own and with an inadequate plan. Indeed, it was the elf spell caster's idea to separate Shantree Wispon from her tribe with treachery, whereas the infern suggested they burn the forest into cinders. It was not his mistake.

The half-demon, however, held his tongue, finding refuge in silence. His failure with Neltus appeared to be eclipsed by Scheff's defeat. Better to leave it that way and avoid contradicting the demon lord. Correcting the daokiln was akin to exploring the vent of an erupting volcano at the peak of its fury. Gnafil decided to simply stare at the bleak ash of Demonspawn and hope Reiculf's rage would fall upon those who were far more deserving.

Scheff and Macheve also offered no opposition... or excuses. They did not even comprehend their failure. The foolish old wizard had somehow found the means to send them into a dimension of pure sound, where their physical bodies became nothing more than the reverberations and tremors of acoustical design. It was like joining with the howl of the wind or the roar of the sea. It took a tremendous amount of Reiculf's magic to hold them together until the daokiln rescued them by bringing them back to Demonspawn.

When they appeared before the demon master, they could not explain their collapse. They had the elf elder trapped. The human wizard did not have sufficient power to stop them both. The results were beyond their comprehension... perhaps even beyond the daokiln's understanding, and Reiculf continued to bellow with ferocity.

"You each possess the near limitless potency of my power! You can bring that energy to any physical realm! How could you be defeated by a single spell caster... an aging, fumbling human?!"

Both the serp and elf understood the need to answer the daokiln. If they remained silent, they would only incur greater wrath. To their utter dismay, they had no answer. They could only grasp at mere wisps of the events that transpired in the forest.

"We both cast spells of deflection," Scheff replied, hoping to satisfy the raging beast with a partial explanation. "We did not squander your power foolishly. The shields were of vast strength."

The daokiln unleashed a blow with his massive hand to the elf's shoulder. Nearly every bone in Scheff's torso shattered upon impact as he was sent flying through the heavy air. The elf screamed in pure pain as he felt his chest cavity quiver into a mass of broken bones and battered organs.

Before he smashed into the ground, the daok
iln took hold of the elf with magical tendrils. He restored health to the body of the elf, but he did not do so gently. He reconstructed bone and tissue as if he was angrily stacking firewood. Reiculf ignored the screams as he pulled the elf back toward him and threw Scheff's body down upon the ground beside Macheve. He then posed a question to the elf that made his own understanding clear.

"If you did not squander my power, why is the elder of your camp not here?! Are you saying that my power is inferior to that of a pathetic human wizard?"

"No," Scheff replied through a wheeze of pain, but he also understood his quandary. He could not avert blame without insulting the demon master. All he could do was admit his mistake and hope for mercy. "We did not do enough."

Mercy, however, was not a trait within the demon. Reiculf struck the elf just as he did before, and with the same results. The daokiln did not reward the acceptance of fault. The demon lord focused solely upon the outcome of events. Consequences were the foundation of his existence.

Right before Scheff faded into the oblivion of unconsciousness, the demon master restored him yet again. Scheff fell to his knees before the daokiln, trying to catch his breath.

"You will be punished for failure, just as you are punished for foolishness," Reiculf raged. "My magic is superior to any power wielded in Uton. Use it appropriately and failure is not possible. Do you understand?!"

Scheff nodded, but was struck once more. The pain that exploded within him was beyond anything he had ever experienced. Bones that had been broken and mended were crushed inside of him once more. Agony erupted deep inside of his chest as if a razor crow was flying furiously about under his rib cage and ripping apart his innards.

He would not speak the thoughts rushing through his mind, but he craved death, even if it wasn't an immediate and abrupt end to his suffering. He had no desire to be a tool of wicked wrath, but it seemed as if he no longer had a choice. Somehow, he had been forced to accept Reiculf's savage fury. The daokiln's magic had rushed into Scheff's being without restraint, riding across the waves of guilty memories and past deeds.

Despite the tremendous energy surging through his body, the elf spell caster experienced no intoxicating ecstasy, no triumph of enormous strength. There was no benefit for the elf to taste, but there was a cost.

Other than the pain from Reiculf's beatings, Scheff actually felt the sorrow of a hopeless wanderer. He was almost hollow within, like the crater left behind from a vast lakebed emptied of all water. The void, however, was not complete. Scheff was neither dead on the inside or the outside. He was a vessel for evil, and the hopelessness was nearly suffocating.

There was, however, a solid base within him, a dark block created by his own torments. A foundation of guilt held its own misery, and it was a despair that clung to the elf's core.
The errors of the elf's past congregated in that foundation.

Though Reiculf could force his desires through the elf, the demon master left Scheff's consciousness mostly intact. The monster removed the ability to rebel, but left the awareness of identity. Scheff could act on his own, but only in a fashion molded by his own mistakes. In essence, the daokiln created a puppet that could pull its own strings.

For Scheff, it was beyond agony. The elf had become something he feared and despised, but he could not force a change in his own direction. Every breath reminded the elf of what he had become, but he could not fight against it. He could only cringe at the pain of Reiculf's savagery and press against the hollows of his own soul.

The daokiln used his magic to retrieve the elf once more, and the monster looked down with disgust upon the three pawns before him. He loathed the pathetic creatures, wished to do horrible things to them, but they were his only means of reaching beyond Demonspawn. If he destroyed them, as he wished, he would have managed to imprison himself once more, and he would not allow for such a mistake.

"Your incompetence only further establishes my need," the demon master growled. "I will send you out again, but this time I will expect different results."