None of the other nearby children heard a sound as Visalon’s enchanted robe absorbed the boys muffled screams. A robe that Visalon had created herself, allowing her to taunt her victims but allow her to avoid their pitiful mewling and whining.
Flesh continued to slough down from the boy to create a puddle on the cold cobbles of the street. A sudden flash of lightning revealed the sign that hung from the side of the nearest building—Butcher’s Row.
How apt, she thought and laughed to herself, before leaving the pile of pink sludge and sticking out bones where they lay.
So much to do and so little time to do it!
Cock tilted his head up and took a long, deep sniff.
His brother, Pock, looked over, “Aye, I can smell it too.”
Both men stood well over six feet tall, with short hair and black eyes. Pock’s face was covered in old pock marks, but Cock’s wasn’t. Other than that, the two men looked eerily similar.
They were standing at opposite sides of the entrance to The Dove’s Head Inn, which was where the two men worked as bouncers. They were both, if they were to be believed, gods. Pock was god of, unsurprisingly, pockmarks and Cock was the god of…no, not that. Get your mind out of the gutter! No, Cock was the god of fowl.
It’s a well-known fact that on Esterada humans have so many gods and goddesses that they are pretty common. This doesn’t mean that they go around doing crazy god-like shit twenty-four seven. After all that wouldn’t pay the bills…unless you were Cash, god of wealth or Gold, god of even more wealth.
And anyway, as there are so many of them, they have less power for each to use, unlike the seven elven gods and the one orc god—Shatak.
So on a list of magic using folk human gods are basically between battle mages and dragons, and to be fair there is a huge gap between battle mages, dragons and elven gods. This gap was made even greater when the elven god, Octarion, killed all the dragons to make magical items, but that as they say is another story!
Cock made a face like someone sucking on a lemon, “Fucking necromancers, I fucking hate necromancers!”
Pock turned to look at his brother, “I know you do, but we need to find out what they’re up to.”
“Why?” Cock asked.
“Why what?” Pock asked back.
“Why does it have to be us? I mean I’m god of chickens. Why can’t the god of cats sort the shit out for a change,” Cock replied indignantly.
Pock hated these arguments. “Because you fucking hate necromancers.”
“Oh yeah! Good point.”
Pock looked on as Cock’s mouth began to smile. “What?”
“I’m just thinking of Kitty lay in the sun with her legs in the air licking her…”
“All right, all right. Admittedly, it’s a good power, but yours is pretty good too!”
“It is?” Cock asked.
“Yeah, running around flapping your arms for ten minutes after you’ve had your head cut off is pretty spectacular.”
“I suppose so.” Cock rubbed his chin, deep in thought, “Wait…”
“Don’t worry about it brother.” Pock slapped Cock on the back, “Let’s go and get those necromancers!”
“I fucking hate necromancers. I really do..”
Pock turned and opened the door of the inn, “Half hour break!” He yelled to no-one in particular.
A disembodied voice sighed theatrically, “All right!”
“C’mon, lets go.”
The two men followed the stinking trail through Ashen Falls, they could have cast a locate spell, but decided that they really didn’t need it. They wended their way down dark alleys and across empty squares until they came to where the stench was the strongest. Butcher’s Row…here the stench was almost overpowered by the residual tang of butchery and blood. By the acidity of offal and crushed hope.
They paused and took a deep breath of the relatively fresh air and then stepped in to the street. The brothers knew that they were taking a big risk, as the gods of Butcher’s Row had become unhinged over time. Not as much as the gods of Tannery Square, but still…Too much pain and blood had addled their brains and no-one knew which way they would go.
“Fuck it!’ Pock took another step in to the street.
Nothing happened and the two brothers began to edge further and further along the cobbles. Here and there small pieces of flesh lay amongst the stones or in small pools of light red liquid where the blood of the slaughtered animals was being slowly diluted by the rain. A rain, it should be noted, that didn’t seem to want anything to do with the two men.
Several more steps in to the street and they came across the fleshy lump that had once been a boy.
Pock sighed, “Bastards! Bastards! Bastards!”
He stopped suddenly realizing what he had done, his brother looked at him with wide eyes even as a tapping noise came from the darkest part of the street. It was Cock’s turn to sigh, “Now why did you go and do that for?”
Pock looked slightly abashed, “Sorry brother. It just kind of slipped out.”
“Even I know not to say words in threes, especially not in the likes of Butcher’s Row.”
“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I.”
The tapping had become louder and the brothers were sure that they could see a figure in the dark. Pock suddenly held a long knife in his hand whilst Cock had produced a crossbow with a huge bear bolt slotted in it ready to fire.
“Those won’t do you any good boys.” The voice came from behind the two men, and it was a voice both youthful and aged at the same time. It reminded the men of summertime and winter all at once. Turning around the boys took in the sight of a figure that was a young girl and then an old woman, then a young girl again. They squinted at the figure in the hope that it would make it easier to look at—it didn’t.
“You’ve summoned the lord of this street and you know he’s going to demand a sacrifice.” The girl/woman shook her head, “How could the two of you be so stupid, I thought I raised you better than that?”
“Sorry, Mum.” Said Pock even as Cock said, “He did it, mum, not me.”
By now the figure was close enough for the three to see and what a sight it was. The Lord of Butcher’s Row certainly wasn’t human. He stood on the hind legs of what looked to be a goat, his body was that of a bull, his head was a pig’s and where his arms should be where chicken wings. From the top of his head sprouted two huge antlers.
“Who has summoned me!” His voice boomed like a mountain avalanche and echoed of the houses and down the street. For all that, none of the figures sleeping in the street seemed to hear anything.
Pock gulped, “Well ‘summoned’ isn’t exactly the word I would use.”
“Bwaak! Thrice a word was used, so summoned I was!”
Cock’s eyes narrowed as an idea started to form. Perhaps he could save them.
“Sorry! I really didn’t mean to summon you. You can go back now.”
“Brrk! Buck! Buck! I demand a sacrifice!”
Pock was about to say something when Cock stepped forward, “As your god I demand that you go back to whence you came!”
Beady eyes stared at Cock, “Technically you’re only one fifth of my god.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Not really, but I tell you what…Urgh! What the fuck is that gloop at your feet?”
“Necromancer victim.”
The Lord of Butcher’s Row spat to one side, “I fucking hate necromancers!”
Cock gave an evil smile, “Me too!”
“Not surprising really. I hate the way they kill animals for no purpose other than to attach different animals together and bring them back to life. Bloody disgusting and a mockery of the sanctity of life.”
The two brothers couldn’t help noticing that their mother had disappeared, and that the creature before them was made up of several animals that looked like they had been stuck together.
“Yeah! Us too.” Said Pock whilst giving his brother a look that seemed t
o say Don’t say it!
“Well it looks like today is your lucky day then doesn’t it? Instead of a sacrifice you can find this necromancer and kill them…slowly…even slower than that if you can manage it. Moo! Oink! Bwaak!”
“It’s a deal!” Pock yelled as the figure began to recede back into the darkness.
“I know. Now don’t let me down.”
“Good thing we were going to do that anyway, eh brother?” Whispered Pock.
Cock draped an arm over Pock’s shoulder, “You’re not wrong there, brother. Now, a simple tracking spell should be enough to follow the trail.”
A set of tracks began to glow on the cobbles and the two men put their weapons away and began to follow them.
Life watched the two figures walk off, and then turned her attention to the pile of gloop on the cobbles. Pointing a finger, the gloop began to rise like a pig’s bladder being filled with air. Soon the boy was standing as if nothing had happened to him.
Life held out a few copper heads, “What’s your name boy?”
The boy looked at the nice old lady that stood in front of him, unable to see the constant battle of youth and age. He frowned as he realized that this wasn’t the person that he had tried to pickpocket from, but he couldn’t seem to remember what had happened. His memory was hazy and he had to claw out his own name, “Alder, my lady.”
The old woman smiled, “Here Alder, take these few coins.”
Alder didn’t need telling twice and grabbed the proffered coins. He quickly spun and began to run off before remembering his manners. He looked over his shoulders as he shouted, “Thanks, you stupid old cow. Hope your fucking cats eat you alive!”
Luckily for potty-mouthed Alder, there was no one there.
Pock was scowling as the two brothers followed the trail of glowing footprints.
“Are you worrying about mum turning up?” Cock asked. Truth be told he was worried himself.
“You fucking know I am. She’s gotten free and that means that we have to put her back, in fact she may even be responsible for all this. Even if she isn’t she might get in the way.”
“Yeah, Life has a habit of doing that.”
“That’s not even remotely funny.”
Cock sighed, “I know.”
Visalon removed her cloak and shook off the accumulated rainwater, behind her two sturdy, wooden doors lay closed at an angle to the ground. She removed her dry cloak from a peg and hung her wet cloak up, smiling to see that the other pegs were already occupied. The Circle was complete with her arrival, the others would all be in place in the lower chamber, below this basement entrance. Opposite the angled doors another, less pissed door stood and she made towards it. The door opened without a sound to reveal a small landing followed by a set of stairs spiraling down in the depths below.
Visolon hoped that her compatriots were ready for what was about to happen. She descended the spiral stairs, here and there glowing skulls had been placed in niches to allow the Circle time to make the journey safely. None of them wanted to fall and break their neck.
Zombiefication was so not a good look for a necromancer.
At the bottom of the stairs Visalon entered a large, round chamber. The rest of the Circle were already in their rightful positions, ready to begin the ritual that would deal with the human problem once and for all. They all wore black clothing with black cloaks, their cowls were pulled up over their heads to hide their faces from each other.
With the arrival of Visalon the Circle consisted of three men and three women, other than that Visalon didn’t know anything about them except that they were all elvish. Their mistress had been most insistent that the members of The Circle did not engage in conversation with each other, that familiarity would lead to mistakes being made.
Visalon took a deep sniff of the air, the metallic tang of blood flooded her senses. The other members of the Circle had already sacrificed a chicken to appease the gods for what they were about to do.
One last chicken watched Visalon approach with its beady eyes. Its head moving so that the bars of its cage would be no impediment to its line of sight. She paused as she reached the cage door. She had heard rumors of chickens that were really demon possessed killing machines. Visalon shook her head in disgust at herself, demon chickens…it was absurd! She quickly opened the cage door and reached in to grab the chicken within.
Cock stopped outside the front door of a medium sized house, “This one.”
“You sure?”
“I can see a half dozen chicken ghosts… or are they ghost chickens?”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh, it’s alright for you. You don’t get ghost pockmarks…or is its Pockmarked Ghosts?”
“Maybe, but I do have a lot of people praying that I don’t come knocking on their door.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Keeps me amused.”
“Yes, well I suppose it’s good to have a hobby. Now, we have ghostly chickens and we have blue footprints going off around the side of the house…Ooh, that’s interesting!”
“What?”
“They’re underground.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’ve just seen a ghostly chicken come up through the earth so I’m pretty sure.”
“Round to the back then. C’mon let’s go.”
Pock took a few steps and then turned to his brother, “I do see dead pocks…and spots…and pimples.”
“You do? When do you see dead pimples?”
“All the time.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There are so many of them though that I’ve had to learn to block them out.”
“How the fuck do you learn to block them out?”
“Time, brother. Lots and lots of time. Come on, let’s go and sort out these chicken killers.”
“Yeah, bastards!”
The two brothers continued to make their way to the back of the house.
Visalon threw the carcass of the chicken across the room where it landed amongst the remains of several of its kin.
“You are all doing very well, but my friends, time is short.”
All the members of the Circle bowed low as the figure appeared in their midst.
“Mistress!” Visalon’s voice wavered with emotion as she spoke, “We merely await the sacrifices arrival and then we will wipe the human scum from Esterada forever!”
“I have brought you all here to make history. Outside of this chamber you are all high-ranking members of elven society, well regarded by your peers but you live such sad, lonely lives whilst the humans laugh at you, point at you and now even dare to fornicate with you. Soon two will arrive that will free you from their filthy touch and their mocking gaze…I sense them above. You must deal with them forthwith!”
“Oh great Mistress don’t leave us in our very moment of triumph.”
“I fear that I must as I’m quite parched and fancy a nice cup of tea but have no fear for I will be back after I have visited the second circle.”
Visalon blinked, “Wait…what sec…”
All the other members of the Circle bowed low again and intoned, “Yes, Mistress!”
The figure vanished before them all.
The entrance to the underground sanctum had proved to be no match for the two brothers. Pock had started to cast a spell of opening when Cock bent down and ripped the doors from its hinges.
“Well, that was subtle.”
“Fuck subtle, Pock, they’re all chanting something down below and wouldn’t notice if a large rock landed on their heads.”
“I think they fucking would notice!”
“Alright they would notice, but not until their brains had been splattered in all directions.”
“Good point well put.”
The brothers crept towards the chanting and soon came to the room with the circle of necromancers within. Cock’s mouth turned grim as he saw the sacrificial chickens lay discarded about the room, “You know
I fucking hate necromancers and yet even they can do one thing that I fucking love.”
“What’s that, brother?”
Cock raised his crossbow, took careful aim and fired. The bear bolt flew straight and true. The head of the first necromancer simply exploded like an overripe melon being dropped from the sky. Even before the body could hit the ground the bolt smacked into the left eye of a second necromancer. The momentum of the bolt forcing the body back where it pinned the corpse to the wall, “They make for an easy pair of kills.”
Pock stepped into the room with his long dagger in his hand, “Which one of you fuckers wants to die next?”
The four necromancers that remained stopped their chanting and as three of them drew daggers the fourth started pointing at the chicken corpses.
Pock flinched as a bear bolt flew just centimeters past his right ear to explode another necromancer skull, “Oi! Watch what you’re doing with that thing.”
Then a necromancer was swinging his or hers, Pock really couldn’t be sure, dagger down and Pock brought one hand up to grab the arm even as he stabbed forward with his own blade. His foe doubled over as eight inches of steel pierced through their robes and into their guts, puncturing through flesh and intestines. Pock let go of the body and it flopped to the floor groaning as it bled out, “That’s what happens when you spend all night raising dead people and not learning how to use a fucking dagger properly!”
Pock gave the necromancer a kick in the head for good measure and to stop the groaning and moaning. The fifth necromancer lay slumped against the wall with a bear bolt sticking out of it’s chest. Which just left one.
Suddenly he felt a pain in his left ankle and then his right one, looking down he started to laugh as several undead chickens pecked at his feet, “Fucks sake. Cock get in here and sort this out!”
Cock stepped into the room, his crossbow aimed at the last necromancer. Looking at his brother he scowled, “That’s not even remotely funny.”
“Just stop them from pecking me. They’re beginning to irritate the fuck out of me.”
Blackest Spells Page 20