Authors: Greg Curtis
Now that the heat of battle had passed and reason had returned, Harl sometimes had dark moments when he thought about the killing of Alenda Goldeneyes. About the look of horror on her face when he had taken her arms from her, just before he had taken her head. Though it had felt right at the time he wasn't always so sure any more. It wasn't that it had actually been wrong. He knew it had been the dutiful thing to do. And he also knew that it had been in the heat of battle, and that she had been trying to kill him. As she had killed many others. He knew his action had saved lives.
But against that she had been an old woman. And it was hard to get the image of an old woman screaming in terror out of his mind. Especially when he'd started cutting her to pieces. There were some things no soldier or warrior should ever have to do. But this was war. It had had to be done. This would have to be done as well.
“To die? Yes. Like this? I don't know.”
“As long as these wizards remain alive their deal with Xin holds and he will continue to send more of his army through the gate. More innocent lives will be taken. – With this, at least once the Circle Wizards pass through their deaths will not result in the death of even more lives.”
“You truly believe Dina's theory about the shape of the spell?”
“Yes.” He'd doubted it for a while – most of the previous night in fact. But then it had occurred to him that there was one unquestionable piece of evidence in her theory's favour. One of the Circle was dead yet the deal still held. Chimera were still entering the world. And he seriously doubted it was because the other eleven were shouldering an extra burden from their fallen comrade as they would have had to had it simply been a bargaining spell. They simply wouldn't do that.
“And how bad will it be if the last is killed here?”
“I don't know.” He took a deep breath as he thought of how to explain the complex magic that a true binding could be.
“A binding is unlike other magic. Some call it a living spell. It's not just more complex and more powerful; it goes beyond magic. It draws upon the life as well as the magic of those casting it. Some say it absorbs part of their very soul. And in that way the magic, the spell, becomes more than just mere magic. More than just the sum of the magic cast into it. In a way it almost becomes a living thing. Even if this was just the twelve wizards and the demon king that were bound by a simple bargaining spell that would be a terrible thing. They have so much magic within them. But if this is a binding I suspect it will be far worse. With not just the magic of the twelve and the demon but something of their living essence as well, the power could be increased tenfold.”
“But it could yet be worse than even that. A binding may also be formed and strengthened through the lives and souls of others. People sacrificed and their essence given to the binding. And these wizards were the sort who would far rather sacrifice others to achieve their ends than themselves. Demons of course are the same.”
“How powerful the binding is will depend on how many were sacrificed to create the binding. We know that Xin is desperately hungry for the lives of the people his beasts kill. When the wizards came to him I assume he saw the chance for a feast like no other, while the wizards desperately wanted what he promised them. I would guess that when the binding was formed both of them sacrificed as many of their own as they could. Neither side could allow the deal to fall through.”
“There could be hundreds of souls bound up in it. Maybe even more. And that sort of living magical power can move mountains.”
“When Alenda Goldeneyes died, only the tiniest fraction of the magic bound in the binding was released.” But the destruction from that release had been fearful. They were just lucky that the wizard had died at the edge of the fort and not in the middle of the town, or things could have been much worse. Many more could have died.
“What we saw was like a few drops of blood being spilled from a cut. The rest still remains within the binding. It healed like a living creature. And it will not be released until the last of those who made the deal is dead and the binding is broken. Then everything will be released all at once.”
“Then maybe it is only the last that we have to fear?”
She wanted to believe that. Harl could see that in her eyes. He could hear it in her voice. But he could not tell her that.
“No High Priestess. If this is a binding than each death will lead to greater problems than the last. It is like destroying a dam by pulling the bricks out one by one. Say it's a small dam on a mud river with only a few hundred bricks. And that removing twelve bricks will be enough to destroy it. You remove the first brick and the water flows out through the hole until the mud from the river blocks it. But when you remove the second brick, the dam has already been weakened by the loss of the first brick. Things shift around. You get little gaps opening up elsewhere. And it takes longer to close the gap. More water spills. And that pattern continues. Each brick lost weakens the remaining structure. The water escaping each time until the gap is filled by mud or whatever becomes greater as the dam sustains ever more damage. But the last brick removed completely destroys the dam.”
“Is it a binding?”
The High Priestess stared straight at him her eyes seeming to try and look right through him as she searched for answers.
“I don't know High Priestess. But I think maybe yes. Alenda Goldeneyes' death throes were in two parts. The first when her own life ended and her magic was released. The second when the deal was broken. That suggests a truly powerful spell, and perhaps a binding. That the second part was so much more powerful than the first; that says it is likely a binding.”
“And then too there is the shocking stupidity of these wizards. Geron said that the wizards wanted this deal. But he seemed completely incapable of understanding that the demon king would have wanted it more. With every day that passes he receives the lives of more people as his beasts continue their slaughter. He would want that to continue for as long as possible. A binding lets that happen. If it continues until the last of those who made the deal dies, it works to his advantage. My thought is that he would have insisted upon a binding rather than just a simple spell of bargaining. And they would not have understood why, lost as they were in their hunger for power.”
“Dina said you were a clever student. But maybe she really meant that you see your prey clearly. A warrior and a wizard but truly a hunter.”
Harl didn't answer her. He didn't know how to. And he feared that no matter what he said it would end up coming out as some sort of an insult to her. But he was no hunter. He never wanted to be. So instead he simply nodded politely.
Fortunately that seemed to be enough, and she turned her attention to the finished cage and started intoning the blessing on it. And it was actually a blessing he realised. Not a spell so much as a prayer for any evil within the cage to be cast out
from the world
. The trouble was that in this case the evil was contained within a man.
It took a surprisingly short time for her to finish her work, and once she was done she gestured to the soldiers to start loading the finished trap on to the wagon. Somehow he'd expected something more from her. More time maybe. More words. Maybe a flourish or some magical display. Just a few quick sentences didn't really seem enough.
“We should go. Dina will be getting impatient at the fort.”
“She has always been impatient.”
There were other things Harl could have added; uncompromising, strict, insufferable and pedantic, but impatient was enough. And it brought a slight bit of cheer to Erislee's face. Maybe even the beginnings of a smile.
“Harl.” She turned around to face Harl suddenly. “I have not said this to you yet and I should have. I am grateful for your rescuing me. Thank you.”
“You're welcome and I'm sorry for trying to kill you. I'm glad I failed.”
As apologies went it was poor. In fact Harl probably couldn't have come up with anything worse. But it seemed good enough to the High Priestess. In fact it drew a very small chuckle from her and she quickly raised her hand to hide her laughter.
“I'm glad you failed too.”
“High Priestess, could I ask a small thing of you?” Things were going well so he thought he might take a chance. And when she nodded he knew it had been a good thought.
“In all that I have learned these past months there is one thing that I do not understand. One thing that makes no sense to me at all. I know little of the Circle wizards save their names and a little gossip. And I do understand that those who made up the Circle generally craved power in all its forms.
But I also know that those who achieve admission to the Circle are only the most clever. The most learned. Dina said that they might lack the morality of most. She didn't say however, that they were stupid. Yet they have done the most stupid as well as the most evil thing. And when I spoke to Geron and learned what he knew, I knew him too to be lacking in wisdom as well as morality.”
“Every wizard trained knows that you can never make a deal with a demon. That demons always deceive. That they never truly honour their deals. Yet somehow those who were our most learned have forgotten this? That makes no sense to me.”
“And your boon?”
“That the inquisitors be made aware of this. That they make vigorous enquiry into it. There is something very wrong with what we have seen.”
Or was there? He did find himself wondering about that some days. Was it truly that the Circle wizards had been as learned and wise as he had always imagined? That his peers were as smart as he had thought? Was it just poor judgement and memories coloured by childish fantasies that made him believe they could not have made such an obvious mistake? Or was it simply that he had to believe they were? Because the truth had always been that they were as stupid as any novice first learning about magic. Perhaps he was just unable to accept it. After all, he still found it hard to believe that they were as steeped in corruption as they obviously were. Maybe the understanding that he had spent his life looking up to people who were both completely without decency and grossly stupid was just too much for him to accept.
“I will pass your words on Harl of the Elder Fire.”
With that the High Priestess was gone, and he was left standing there, wondering if he'd said the right thing? Maybe he was just a fool.
But in the end he realised it didn't matter. Fool or sage he had work to do. The wares the soldiers needed would not craft themselves.
Chapter Twenty Three
Terellion sat on his throne looking down over the assembled soldiers with a feeling of power. He liked that. He liked that they all had to stand there at attention and look up to him as he sat there. That they had to obey his every command. And he liked that they feared him. And after Alenda Goldeneye's death and his own near death he needed to feel powerful again.
The throne room was one of his favourite chambers in the castle. Not because of its massive stone walls, and the towering arched windows from which he could see out over his city and in turn be seen by his subjects. Not because of the fine mosaic tiles that covered the floor or the expensive wall hangings that surrounded him. Not because of the opulent pieces of art that abounded everywhere. Not even because of the gold that surrounded him everywhere. No, it was his favourite chamber because it was the seat of his power. Here, in this room, he was a god to his subjects. He looked down on them.
And now he had a new symbol to demonstrate his power – the furies. Two of them were currently crouched at his feet, chained to the floor by a crude metal collar around their necks so that they couldn't turn around and bite him if something went wrong. They still hissed angrily every so often, and frightened his audience senseless each time. He liked that. Meanwhile the third, Varrious' pet, was curled up on the throne beside him, letting him play with her. He'd kept her back from the hunt for the barbarian because there were others that could do the job and he liked her. She was broken. Almost completely docile now, and happy to lie there while he petted her. In fact she would probably let him do anything he wanted to her. She had submitted to his power. But for today it was enough that she lay there and accepted his hand, while all around the soldiers stared at him and knew wonder at his daring and mastery of the deadly creatures. What they didn't know was that a dozen thralls with their demon king's charms of control were all sitting around hidden behind his throne, desperately keeping them calm. Even the one beside him.
He suspected they would be needed. Furies were very clever beasts. They would understand what was about to happen to their sisters below. They might even be unhappy about it. Not the one beside him though. She would be perfectly pleased he thought. And if she understood as much as he thought she did, she would be waiting for him to do the same to her.
The throne room was the perfect place for the experiment Terellion thought. It was here where once the king had sat on his throne dispensing justice and punishment to his subjects. And it was here where he would do the same. And this day he had a lot of punishment to dispense. Glorious punishment!
The soldiers standing before him had failed him. More than failed him. They had betrayed him with their cowardice. Their patrol had run away. They had fled the dryad custodians in Pariton. And their excuse for their cowardice? That they had been outnumbered. That was no excuse at all. They even had the gall to blame him for it! They said that their forces had been weakened. That he had taken too many soldiers and beasts from them to form his new army marching on the Rainbow Mountains. There could be no more worthless excuse than that.
Terellion paid them to fight for him. He expected that they should be prepared to die for him. He did
not
pay for them to run away. And he would not tolerate it. So when he'd heard of the patrols' treason Terellion had had them all brought before him in chains. There were only a dozen men left from the patrol of thirty. The dryads had killed the rest. But a dozen was enough. Enough to punish. Enough to use in his experiment. And enough for the other soldiers assembled all around to watch and report back to their friends. Soon every soldier he paid for would know the price of cowardice. They would know the fate he had planned for them if they dared to run.
And best of all, most of them would think he was already doing what he was going to force their comrades to do. That was why it was so important to have Varrious' pet beside him. So he could openly fondle her in front of them while their comrades were killed by her sisters. It would add to his reputation.
“Bring the first prisoner out!” Terellion gave the command as he sat on the throne overlooking the stone plinths where the furies lay. They had been chained down by their wrists and ankles, their wings had been tied down as well. And then they had been spread out so that they were ready to be mated while the thralls who commanded them were told to keep them under control. More or less. But everyone knew that the furies wouldn't be held back. Not completely. Furies were wild, savage creatures. There was a reason they were the most feared of the chimera. That they made such excellent assassins. And even though the talons on the arms and the feet of the first fury
had been tied down so that she
could no longer tear her mate apart, that didn't mean she was defenceless. She was still deadly.
The first of the prisoners was dragged out. Pulled from the giant cage at the far end of the throne room where he and his friends were locked away, and brought before him. He was terrified, shaking with fear, something that was only too obvious when he was also stark naked. That pleased Terellion. He should be frightened. Soon he would be dead.
Terellion could have controlled him. Could have convinced the man that the fury was actually the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and that he wanted her as he had never wanted another woman in his life. But he wouldn't. This was better. He wanted the others to see the man's terror. He wanted them to know what he would do to them if they dared fail him. Besides, they didn't know that he had the magic of the mind. That was a secret he still kept. It was power and security and he never yielded either.
Sometimes though, he liked to show it off. This was one of those times. The man was young and fit. He had probably been popular with women. For that reason Terellion particularly hated him. So he took especial pleasure in pronouncing judgement on him.
“You ran away from my enemies. You failed me. And for that you must pay. Is there anything you would like to say for yourself?”
There was of course. He wanted to repeat the same pathetic excuses he had before. But Terellion would not be listening to his lies anymore. The man would not be speaking such poison again. Not when Terellion put the thought in his mind that he had forgotten how to speak. So instead he just stood there, shaking with fear and making strange terrified noises, while he waited for the news of his execution. And judging from the way he kept looking furtively over at the stone plinths and the furies chained to them, he probably had an idea of how that might happen.
“Very well then. Never let it be said that I am a man without mercy. I will give you a chance. One chance to live. A trial by fury. You see before you three plinths and upon them three furies ready for the taking. They are your wives. Service them all as a husband should and survive and you can return to your duties. Fail and you will die.” And just to make sure he understood what he meant Terellion nodded to one of the soldiers behind him who promptly poked the man in the back with his halberd.
“No!”
While the soldier couldn't speak, apparently he could still scream something that sounded almost like speech. Terellion quickly fixed that and made the man think that his throat had stopped working. After that he just stood there trying to scream and failing while all around the other soldiers simply assumed his throat had locked up in fear.
“Why, are you frightened of a few mere women? Are you truly too scared to even be a man?” And for emphasis he stroked the breasts of the fury beside him. She accepted his touch easily, while the prisoner looked as though he was going to be ill.
That was one of the things he liked about the furies. They couldn't speak. His attendants could, and despite how he controlled them he was certain they gossiped. They were women. And he was sure they said terrible things about him. But the furies didn't. Even if they knew he was incapable, they would never tell anyone. And they were perfectly happy to be used as proof of his conquests. With Varrious' pet beside him accepting his touch, everyone there assumed that he was bedding the creature. And every soldier in the room was in awe of him for taking such a creature to bed. She was the perfect symbol of his potency. Of his daring.
“Give him the root.”
Instantly one of the thralls rushed forward with the vial of silver horn root, and forced the man to swallow it. It was the only way that this could work of course. No man would know desire for a fury when he knew that she was about to kill him. No mortal man anyway. Least of all when he was paralysed with fear. But the powdered root overcame that problem, and whether he wanted to or not, soon the man was ready. Painfully ready.
Terellion remembered that feeling. He actually envied the man that. Before his affliction had grown so bad he had used the root himself. It had worked for a time. In fact the first time he had tried it he had felt like a god. He had bedded women for a day and a night. They had been lined up outside his quarters, waiting. And the talk of his prowess had been on the lips of the entire city. After that he had kept using it for a good six months, thinking his problems had been solved. The gods alone knew how many bastards had been sired during those months. His guess was that it had been scores.
Unfortunately the effects hadn't lasted. The power of the potion had waned. He'd needed to use more and more of the root each time, until finally it had stopped working altogether. But he would use it again in a heartbeat if it would once again have an effect on him. He would do anything to feel that potency again.
Terellion looked on at the soldier enviously. To have such a gorgeous creature just lying there waiting for him! Every part of him ached for that. That was, every part save the one that mattered. But that day was coming, he told himself. That and his immortality was coming. Lucara had promised him. It was so near he could almost taste it. And when it did come not a fury and not a woman would be safe from him! Meanwhile it was time for this traitor to carry out his final duty. To show the others the price for trying to run away. He should be grateful for the death he was being given. But of course he wasn't. And so, instead of going willingly Terellion had to force him.
The soldiers poked and prodded the man with their weapons until they had him standing at the foot of the plinth facing the first fury. She though wasn't staring at him. She was staring at the thrall beside her dressed in his priestly robes. Her master. She seemed almost frighteningly calm he thought. Even trusting. But then she probably didn't know what was happening. Furies might look part human, but they did not have the minds of people. They were animals. Cleverer than most and far more savage than any others, but still animals. The prisoner knew that. And he knew what she was going to do to him. The terror in his face was unmistakeable.
“You should watch this.” He whispered to the fury beside him as the spectacle slowly unfolded. “Because that's going to be you and me one day.” She didn't watch though. She just stared up at him with her golden yellow eyes, while he fondled her casually.
Then the soldiers prodded the prisoner with their halberds some more, pressing them into his back, forcing him forward, pushing them into the man hard enough to draw blood, little red rivulets of blood that ran down his back. And little by little they made the man crawl on to the plinth, on top of her.
The fury didn't like that, and she hissed her displeasure at him. A sound that chilled the blood and made everyone in the throne room nervous. Very nervous. They knew she was chained. That she couldn't get to them. And that the priests could control her – somewhat. But in the end she was a fury. A creature of nightmare. And that sound was something that drew the darkest fears of the soul to the surface. Terellion enjoyed seeing that.
The two on the plinths beside her though didn't hiss. They watched what was happening to her, but didn't react. Nor did the two at his feet or the one beside him. Did they still not understand what was happening he wondered? Or didn't it matter?
In time the fury accepted the soldier there on top of her. Provided he stayed completely still. It was like training a horse to be ridden. Getting the fury to feel the rider's weight and accept him. But that wasn't good enough, and Terellion had the soldiers encourage the man with their halberds until he finally started doing what he'd been told to do.
Immediately she became angry. Angry as only a fury could. She hissed and spat and tried to buck him off. She screeched. And all around people were covering their ears and looking to run. Hardened soldiers all of them, terrified by a little noise. Terellion actually quite enjoyed it. As he enjoyed seeing the soldiers' fear. Meanwhile the false priest was putting his every effort into controlling the fury. Speaking to her, using his demon master's charm. Doing all he could to keep her from biting the soldier as he bedded her. Sweating profusely as he worked.