Ways of Power 1: Power Rises (11 page)

It could encircle the whole world if it needed to, though by then it would only be a single atom thick. Of course once it started around the other side, it would begin to coalesce again.

Rancoth knew that each of the people in camp would feel a slight chill as Pordly passed through them. It wouldn't hurt, but, it was slightly disconcerting to have a demon pass through one's body, he hoped no one would panic.

16

As it passed through each person Pordly fleetingly touched their minds, making sure that they were not the one it sought. It hated serving such a weakling of a master, but there was nothing it could do about it.

So long as the master spoke, Pordly had to listen and obey. That didn't prevent the demon from trying to think of a way to circumvent the arrangement. If it could somehow break its bond to the vile little creature that commanded it, it would then be free to pursue its own interests, or better yet be linked with a master more deserving of its abilities.

Crujen had been gone for several hours, and had made good time since leaving the camp. He was huffing along several miles northeast when he felt the chill hit the small of his back, and saw the thin gray line of what looked like smoke pass out through his stomach. He was stunned to see the smoke going off seemingly forever in either direction. What the hell is that?

He had never seen nor felt anything like it before. Well that wasn't completely true, that chill feeling had hit him before, it was the kind of feeling you got just before something terrible happened. The kind of feeling that causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand, and the skin all over your body to be covered in tiny little bumps.

The line of smoke suddenly stopped and rose up directly in front of him. Almost instantly it began to enter through his mouth and nose.

Crujen was quickly aware of another consciousness inside his head.
Breathe in
, it commanded. Pordly's essence began to move through his body and deeper into his mind

For Pordly it was an almost sexual sensation, moving into the being, flowing through its body and soul, slowly superseding Crujen's will with its own.

As Crujen clung to consciousness he tried to cover his face with his hands. But his flesh could not protect him from the invasion of the gaseous monster. As more and more of the smoke made its way into his lungs, the more and more he was compelled to uncover his mouth and nose, and take in long deep breaths.

Finally Crujen was on his knees, head thrown back, and pelvis stretched forward, with his arms grotesquely spread out behind him, as if he were some frightening bird about to take flight. His mouth was opened wide to the sky as the now concentrated inky black smoke continued to pour itself into the shell of the former man.

Once the last lingering wisps of the creature had been absorbed, Crujen’s body slumped forward, bunched up in the fetal position on the ground. A few moments later, he began to convulse, and a high-pitched laugh split the air. It had been a long time since Pordly had possessed one of the little corporeal beings.

It had been one of its last master's favorite forms of torture for his enemies. Pordly missed that master, now he had been an evil warlock! No point in reminiscing, Pordly still had orders to follow.

Crujen reached down to pick up the heavy pack he had dropped as the possession was in progress. Now nothing more than a puppet, he swung the pack onto his back, and ran in the direction of the camp. Yes, the camp! Pordly thought, full of fear filled wretched little beings to torture; this is going to be fun.

              It had been about an hour when one of the men who was stationed as look out on the rock in the center of the camp shouted and pointed to the northeast. Everyone turned to see a small figure running towards the camp. It was McRoy who first recognized the approaching individual.

"It's Crujen, but there's no sign of your demon. Do you suppose it frightened him back, and then dissipated, assuming its mission complete?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. My demons do not enjoy being in our realm," Rancoth answered, but felt a trickle of suspicion.

As Crujen approached it was apparent that there was something wrong with the man. He ran into camp with a large smile on his face, showing the hole where his tooth should have been. His eyes were now a pure glowing white--the demon Pordly's eyes.

              "Pordly, you were ordered not to harm the man!" Rancoth yelled, furious that the demon had once again found some way around his commands.

              The demon possessed man smiled, "But master, this creature has not been harmed, in fact he is in far better shape than he has ever been in his entire pitiful existence." Speaking through the man, the demon added an otherworldly quality to the voice.

Crujen strolled over, and grabbed the hand of Adri, McRoy's young daughter. She quickly yanked it away with a look of disgust. Rage flashed across Crujen's face, accentuated by his glowing white eyes. He reached up and yanked the girl’s head back by her soft brown hair.

              "You will learn to respect me my sweet, and I will use you to pleasure myself in ways that I have not experienced in hundreds of years." Crujen ran his tongue up the girl's cheek and around her ear.

Adri shrieked and attempted to pull herself away, and slap at the man. Her resistance only seemed to heighten the demon’s enjoyment and Crujen laughed coldly.

              "LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!" McRoy bellowed, charging towards the man who held his little girl. Just as McRoy was about to wrap his tree trunk like arms around him, Crujen pushed Adri aside, ducked and grabbed one of the massive wrists of the giant. With surprising ease, Crujen tossed the man three times his size at Rancoth's feet.

"See master," the demon-voiced Crujen said with a sneer. "This vessel is far superior with me in control of it."

              "Pordly! You will leave the man at once, unharmed and just as he was before you possessed him. Then return to your realm," Rancoth ordered.

              The sneer on Crujen's face spread into a vile grin, "But master, those orders are a contradiction. As a good servant who knows how much you detest the pleasure of death, I must warn you if I depart this vessel, the creature will die!" Pordly then began to laugh maniacally at Rancoth's distressed look.

              Rancoth glanced down at McRoy, the giant still on the ground in a great heap at his feet. McRoy looked back up at him, both at a loss for what to do. Neither McRoy nor any of his people could overcome the strength of the possessed man, and Rancoth could not bring himself to order his death, no matter how detestable he may have been. Rancoth turned around to face Dorbin, hoping the little Dwalish man's wisdom could offer some viable solution.

              Adri ran and knelt by her father. McRoy looked at her reassuringly before getting up. They moved off to the side to join the rest of the camp looking on. All of them were frightened to see what might come next, but none willing to leave or intervene. They had to trust Rancoth, who had promised to help them but who so far had only terrified them.

              Before he could ask for Dorbin's advice, the little man removed one of his shaping hammers that hung from his belt. Dorbin then flung the small hammer as hard as he could. The projectile whistled past Rancoth's ear, blowing back his long dirty blond hair. Rancoth whipped around, the hammer stuck with a sickening wet and hollow smack, its tapered end splitting the man's scull. Crujen fell to his knees.

              As the oozing blood leaked down his face, the inky black smoke of Pordly's non-corporeal form began to billow out from the fatal wound. Once the demon was clear, Crujen's lifeless body slumped backwards as blood continued to pour from the hole in his head.

             
You were saved this time, master, but I will find another vessel willing to kill you for me. It's only a matter of time,
the demon sneered inside Rancoth's head.

              "Return to your realm, at once," Rancoth said, choking back tears. He had not wanted anyone to die. As the demon dissipated, Rancoth turned back to Dorbin. "Why?" was all he could manage. Tears no longer held at bay flowed freely down his cheeks.

              "I'm sorrry son, but I had no choice. When yourr back was turrned he pulled a knife and charrged," Dorbin explained, his own eyes moist with sorrow. Not for what he had done, but for the pain it caused his friend.

              Rancoth turned back looking at the broken shell behind him, only then noticing how close the man had gotten. Seeing the dead body served to reassure Rancoth that the second plan that he and McRoy had formulated after Dorbin's outburst back in the tent, was in fact the right one.

The first had been too likely to result in violence and the possibility of more death. These people had seen enough suffering to last a lifetime.

Lost in thought, Rancoth hadn't noticed the approach of Dorbin, McRoy, Adri, and several others of the camp. All of them stood in a semi circle, looking down at Crujen's corpse. "I'm sorry for your loss," Rancoth said, once he had realized he was no longer standing alone.

"Not a great loss. Crujen was a menace, a constant insubordinate thorn. He will not be greatly missed." McRoy replied his massive arm hung gently around his daughter's shoulder.

Rancoth was not entirely sure that everyone felt the same way. Celeste stood off to the side, tears flowing freely down her cheeks to be whisked away by the dry wind.

              They spent the remainder of the day giving Crujen a proper burial. After he saw the anguish on Celeste's face, McRoy said it was the least he could do.

     The next day, Rancoth and Dorbin headed east in the direction of Illineas, amongst many well wishers, and countless utterances of good luck. They waved goodbye to McRoy and the camp. Rancoth explained en-route the plan that he and McRoy had come up with after Dorbin had left the tent so suddenly.

              "So you see, after you made the comment about the Light Magi being a good people at heart, we decided against the first plan in lieu of a subtler one. You and I will go to the Head Mage of Illineas, and make a plea on the behalf of the Huldens. If nothing else, we will at least attempt to get him to come and see the devastation his policies are causing," Rancoth said. 

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his orange robe, he was glad that they had gotten their things back. This trek through the semi-arid dessert would have been even more exhausting if Rancoth didn't have his walking stick to lean on.

              "
His
policies? Don't you mean
herr
?" Dorbin asked, confused by Rancoth's explanation.

              "McRoy said that the Head Mage was a man named Breckliy. A transformer according to him." Rancoth said.

              "Nah, the head o' Illineas is a woman Magnatist named Patrrina," Dorbin corrected.

              "I didn't know you knew the Head Mage at Illineas. Why didn't you say so before?" Rancoth demanded.

              "You didn't ask, and it wasn't imporrtant until now," Dorbin barked back.

              "All right, I guess. Next time though, it would be nice if you volunteered such things ahead of time. Or at least stick around when we're making plans rather then run off like a madman."

Dorbin growled but didn't say anything.

Annoyed, Rancoth glared back at him, "If McRoy isn't familiar with her, this Patrina might not be responsible for, or even be aware of, what is happening to the Huldens."

Dorbin's face turned scarlet, and Rancoth shook his head, as the two of them continued east.

17

              A few hours after leaving camp the barren landscape became dotted with low-lying sage and scrub brush. Illineas sat on the border between the vast grasslands to the east, and the rain shadow desert of the Dragon's spine to the west. Rancoth had seen the Strip of Death as it was called on the map before, but it had not registered at first that they were actually there.

              The sparsely vegetated area began to give way to patches of grass and trees. Dorbin sped up and nudged Rancoth, pointing out the handful of Magi on the horizon watching their approach. They were posted on the border where desert met grass at the shinning city of Illineas. Rancoth and Dorbin had not seen any on their first approach to the city because the guardsmen were posted only on the side leading to McRoy's camp.

              Rancoth nodded, and they continued towards the city, heads held high. They had nothing to fear. They were not outlaws, and would not have their entrance to the city thwarted. Once they were within range, the closest guard hailed them. The man was similar in complexion to Rancoth, with short dark curly hair. He was probably eight to ten years Rancoth's senior. When they were close enough to see greater detail, a shudder ran up Rancoth's spine.

              The guard who hailed them had shining white eyes. They reminded Rancoth of Pordly, and how Crujen had looked when possessed. After that recent tragedy, the man's eyes put both Rancoth and Dorbin on high alert. Rancoth also noticed that the chests of all of the guard's bright blue robes were embroidered with the silver outline of a dragon's head. Its snout pointed up and its mouth open, as if it were about to swallow the head of the person it adorned.

              "That's far enough. What business do you have in Illineas? And why do you approach from the barbarian infested lands of the West, with a Dwalish in tow?" The guard asked a hesitant smile on his face.

              "My name is Rancoth, and this is my friend and mentor Dorbin. We come from Tower City, on an errand for the Arch Mage Grecrum. We got lost on our approach, and found ourselves in the desert. We are tired, and thirsty. May we continue to the city?" Rancoth asked, attempting to look as innocent as possible. After all, what he said was the truth, if not completely.

              Illineas stood only a half mile behind the guardsman. The other guards watched their interaction, but kept their attention mostly towards the desert. They were spaced farther apart then they had appeared from a distance, and could probably not hear what was being said. The edge of the grassland made a natural ridge and provided a good view, which relieved any need for a wall or tower for them to stand on.

              The guardsman's smile turned genuine, "I've heard of Dorbin the master smith of Tower City, but your name is not familiar to me. You're obviously not Hulden, so please feel free to enter the city. Be warned however, you will be watched."

Rancoth nodded to the man, and Dorbin grinned with pride at the reach of his reputation. They continued toward the city once more.

              Rancoth couldn't help but compare Illineas to the only home he could remember. He had never encountered such caution and suspicion among his own people before. Tower City was a diverse and open community. Under Grecrum's model of understanding and acceptance, he had learned not to judge people by their appearance. Grecrum ruled by the principle of equal opportunity based on a meritocracy.

It surprised Rancoth to learn, that even though these people were subject to Grecrum's rule, they could live in a manner so different from Tower City. It caused him to question how far Grecrum's influence really stretched, and what it was like even further from the center of the Light Magi's seat of power.

              It was early afternoon, and by now the entrance to Tower City would be busy with the hustle and bustle of people going about their daily business. People would be coming and going between the city, and the smaller communities and farms that surrounded the capital city. Illineas, on the other hand, was still and quiet at its entrance. Once in the city there were people to be seen doing errands, entering and leaving shops, and in general going about their lives. All were Magi, and most took note of Dorbin and quickened their steps as they passed.

Rancoth admired the beauty of the crystal city architecture. The wondrous, many-faceted faces of the building material reflected brilliantly in the sunlight, sending rainbows through the air. The irony of such a beautiful city being filled with apprehensive and suspicious people was not lost on him.

"I realize that most people are suspicious of Huldens, though I've never been told why. But that doesn't explain these people's reaction to you, nor the level of anxiety here. And you can't tell me that it's mere prejudice that has guards posted on the western border," Rancoth said to Dorbin.

"I don't know lad, but I think we need to get morre o' the storry frrom this Patrrina beforr we get to farr ahead o' ourrselves," Dorbin said.

Rancoth nodded his agreement as he watched a woman with bright purple eyes shuffling her child into a shop as they approached. He had agreed to help McRoy, but he couldn't help but feel that he had only gotten half of the story concerning the "exile" of the Hulden camp.

They continued working their way to the center of the city, the presumed location of the Head Mage. As they squeezed out of a narrow alley, Rancoth and Dorbin found themselves on a street running in front of a beautiful courtyard. A few hundred feet past that was a wrought-iron fence, with a large gate flanked by two Magi in the bright blue guardsmen's robes.

"This must be the place," Dorbin said as they walked up a white stone path leading to the gate. There was deep green grass on either side of the path, and alternating blue and white rose bushes along the front of the fence. Beautiful well-groomed trees, pruned so that their foliage took on a spherical shape, were dotted throughout the area. The chirping sing song of birds could be heard as they took flight, performing their aerial acrobatics between the trees.

Behind the gate and in the center of the courtyard they could see a large crystal fountain carved to look like a dragon perched in the center of the pool. Its wings were stretched in a posture of preflight, and its head was thrown back, snout pointed to the sky as water shot from its mouth instead of flames. It was obvious that this fountain was the governing symbol of Illineas.

Neither guard spoke as Rancoth and Dorbin approached, but they watched them intently. Once they were within range Rancoth introduced himself and Dorbin. But the guardsmen remained silent. Perplexed, Rancoth looked at Dorbin who merely shrugged.

Rancoth studied the men more closely. They were of equal height, and average build. They both had light complexions; the one to the left had orange glowing eyes while the maroon colored eyes of the one to the right reminded Rancoth of drying blood. They stood with their hands behind their backs, and their feet slightly apart.

Rancoth assumed a similar posture a foot or so in front of and directly between them. Both men studied him closely, and Rancoth looked from one to the other. Dorbin stayed back, crossed his arms and cocked his head, waiting to see what his young friend was playing at.

Rancoth finally decided to directly address the one on the left. "Is it customary for Illineas to rebuke guests from Tower City, sent by Grecrum himself on a sensitive assignment?" Both men looked at each other. The one that Rancoth had spoken to nodded, and the one on the right blinked, and vanished in a puff of white smoke. A few moments passed, and the man reappeared exactly where he had been before.

The man spoke in a monotone. "The Mistress of the shinning city of Illineas apologizes for the inhospitable welcome you have received after such a long journey. Unfortunately she does not feel well, and is not seeing anyone today. She bids you return tomorrow, and take this token. It will gain you nourishment and a warm bed for the evening." He handed Rancoth a small silver ring with a replica of the fountain dragon on it.

Realizing that this was as far as they would get today, Rancoth slipped the ring on his finger, surprised that it fit rather well. He and Dorbin turned, and made their way to a small inn, not far from the Head Mage's home. With the ring the people around them became more hospitable, and they were able to get a good meal, and a comfortable bed.

As Rancoth lay in bed, his hands clasped behind his head, and listening to Dorbin snore, he couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. This wasn't the adventure he had in mind when they set out from Tower City, but it was exciting and interesting nonetheless. Perhaps, he thought, adventures aren't adventures unless they are teeming with the unexpected. He rolled over, knowing he would need some rest before dawn and hoping his dreams would not be filled with more frightening nightmares.