"I've sated your curiosity enough, boy. You will now tell me how you came to be here."
Lorian wasn't sure how much he needed to divulge. He remembered the creature's warning, yet he was sure of the pain that would follow if he remained silent. At this point, he knew enough about Amadeus to know that he would be able to spot any inconsistencies in his story and also be able to tell when he was lying.
He explained about the variant of the sleep spell that he used. And the incantations he used to trap the god fragment inside him. Amadeus remained silent throughout the explanation.
"Very resourceful for one so young," said Amadeus, "but foolish to trap yourself in a cage with something you cannot comprehend. You are lucky enough that someone warded your essence against the godling."
Lorian realized that it was probably foolhardy in retrospect. But the part about someone warding his essence against the godling was interesting. Was it Master Gawain?
"I am not an essence of the void that you can ward yourself against," continued Amadeus. "I am a living creature whose life force binds its essence to a body. The simulacrum does not protect you from me."
Lorian remained silent. The threat was very clear.
"Talent such as yours is wasted on the Lumen. Many young mages are pulled in with the promise of power, but in the end, you simply end up a twisted reflection of a priest in service to a dead god."
That made clear what Amadeus felt about the Lumen. Lorian had his own misgivings, but he knew one thing—he knew and trusted Gawain. The man in front of him however, he knew very little of.
When Amadeus said nothing, Lorian asked, "What happens to me now?"
"I don't see the need to lie to you. Your connection to the simulacrum is interesting, as is the god fragment you have trapped within. Until I know more, you will remain here. Forgive me if I can't readily trust you and set you free."
Without waiting for Lorian's response, Amadeus turned and walked away, leaving the lich staring blankly at Lorian. As he felt Amadeus's presence fade away, he felt the opening of the telepathic link again. Before the creature could say anything, Lorian spoke first.
"What are you?"
"A prisoner, like you. But I will live longer."
If there was a hidden meaning in those words, it was lost on Lorian. Regaining his awareness made his wounds hurt more and he had no patience to dissect the hidden meanings behind this creature's speech.
"How so?"
"He knows nothing about me. In all the time that he has imprisoned me, he has very little knowledge of me. He only needed to speak to you once to learn everything he needs to about you."
"I had no choice," said Lorian.
"The promise of pain is enough to loosen a mortal tongue. Your captor lives for knowledge. Trapped here for eight hundred years has made him very single-minded. Traveling through the void, he acquires beings he finds interesting. The undead you see around you are essences from the void that he has bound to undead constructs. The liches are the essences of long-dead mages that he has beaten into submission and forcibly imprisoned into the bodies of skeletal mages."
Lorian looked at the lich again. The runes branded on its body were no doubt wards of compulsion. Refusal to obey would mean torment.
Amadeus was doing what Lorian had done in trapping the god fragment. Except he was doing it in a more controlled environment.
It seemed that he wished to twist what the mages of Norvind were doing into a necromantic art. From what Lorian knew of necromancy, it had nothing to do with essence. Cants of necromancy were designed purely to put together the remains of a body much like a builder would put together stones and mortar. Except there were inherent properties in the remains of the dead—remnants of life force—that enabled putting them together a relatively easier task than building a construct out of stone. Most undead raised were those that had a very strong connection to the mortal plane. Restless souls. Amadeus, however, was forcibly extracting essences from the void and infusing them into the undead.
The creature was reading Lorian's mind as he was thinking.
"He does far more than that," it said. "He strips the essences bare and rebuilds them as he desires. He torments them and changes them to fit his needs."
Anyone other than a mage would have been disgusted by the idea. Some would say that the dead were meant to rest. But it made sense to Lorian. The undead that Amadeus was reanimating would be stronger, because of the essence trapped inside them. And because Amadeus could strip them down and alter them, he could reanimate perfect warriors and mages.
"His goal is not that of infusing mortal essences. He has long since accomplished that. The lich you see before you is one such essence."
"He wishes to infuse more powerful essences?" asked Lorian.
"Of beings far beyond his comprehension," replied the creature.
That was probably why he had been inside the simulacrum for so long. He was researching magic to reanimate far more powerful creatures from the void. If he indeed could trap the essence of a dragon or a lesser god or even a demon. Amadeus had fused so many magical schools together…Summoning, the Lumen, necromancy. It certainly was worth spending all this time. The creature seemed displeased at this thought.
"You are mortal. You try to comprehend beings that you are not made to. Strip them and break them as he might, our captor cannot understand or control certain beings."
"He does seem to be making progress. Otherwise he wouldn't remain here for so long."
"Again, your mortal mind warps your thoughts. Trapped within the simulacrum, our captor does not age. Although he is not a true immortal, he does have the most immediate benefit it offers. Time. He does not perceive it as you do. He does not feel the sense of urgency that you do. True immortals impose a sense of time upon themselves to function. Our captor will remain here for all eternity unless he looks beyond this."
It seemed a little too much for Lorian. But he did grasp the basics of what the creature was getting at.
"What will he do to me?"
"He has already told you. The god fragment you spoke of interests him. He has expended some of his power against it without any result."
Good luck if Amadeus wanted to take it by force. From what Lorian had seen, its power seemed limitless.
"It is a part of you. You have breathed life into it."
That had scared Lorian. The creature was not only reading his conscious thoughts, but it was now able to probe deeper into his mind as well.
"He needs to understand the connection that you have and use it against the godling."
Which could mean his own demise in the process. The godling only wanted Lorian. And now that he was protected by the simulacrum, it didn't care much for him. And neither did it care about Amadeus's castle. That much was evident when it didn't raise a finger to help him when the liches attacked. Subjugating the godling would mean trapping it first. Such a thing was certainly possible. Amadeus would have studied the simulacrum enough to alter its magic.
"He already can. That is how he captures essences from the void."
"You said you knew a way out of these restraints?"
"I can show you how to break them. But it will be futile. You will never escape the castle. His forces are many."
"They overwhelmed me earlier, but I won't fall to them again. I know what they are now."
"Only his minions. You may be able to overcome his minions, but the captor will not fall to you. He may have the mind of a mortal, but his prowess without doubt ranks him higher than most extra-planar creatures."
Lorian remembered his hair standing on end when Amadeus entered the room. The power he saw within him. It was the same kind of aura that Gawain emanated. Except this one seemed tainted with fear and death.
"What manner of creature are you?" asked Lorian.
He had seen many things since trapping himself inside this cage of his own creation. The godling, Amadeus's castle, the liches. It seemed he had gotten so used to the unusual that he
began taking such things for granted.
"A creature from the lower abyssal planes."
A demon, thought Lorian. This certainly changed things. Demons could not be trusted, and they never gave anything away. They always took. Before Lorian could think any more, the creature replied.
"You are wise to distrust my kind. Yet your distrust stems not from your own wisdom, but the wisdom of the ages, of beings far wiser than you. You trust in their wisdom out of fear for what you do not understand. In many situations, you would do very well to avoid us entirely. But now is not one of them. Think carefully, apprentice of Gawain. Even now, our captor prepares his spells. The choice before you is a simple one—life...or death."
The voice was different, realized Lorian. Where earlier it had been calm and even comforting, it had now changed to reflect a more sinister tone. Lorian could not disagree entirely with what the demon was saying. Shackled as he was, Lorian was helpless.
Furthermore, the demon had been right in stating that Lorian would be unable to defeat Amadeus. He had no delusions about that. The man had beaten Cerevax—an arch-mage of Norvind—in battle. Eight hundred years of researching magic inside the simulacrum would have made him far more formidable.
"You already know how to break the wards in this prison. Why do you have need of me?"
"I am not of flesh and blood like you. I am devoid of life force. I am merely essence. This entire realm is secluded from the void and bound with wards that make ethereal beings powerless."
The simulacrum, thought Lorian.
"I possess knowledge but not the means to use it."
"How do you propose we defeat him, then?"
Laughter resonated inside Lorian's head. A cruel laughter that was almost derisive in its tone.
"Defeat him? Abandon such foolish notions. Even with my help, all you can hope to do is escape this prison alive. Barely."
Lorian did not like the sound of that.
"Why would you help me escape? I confess knowing little of demons, but I know you are not of a charitable kind..."
"That you refer to any creature of the lower planes as a 'demon' is proof enough of your ignorance."
"I care not for your condescension," snapped Lorian. He was getting tired of this. Ever since he cast the spell—the godling, Amadeus and now this...creature.
"Remove these shackles."
Laughter again.
"So quick to take offense, mortal. I could remove your shackles, but what would that accomplish? You will defeat the solitary lich standing guard in this room. You will defeat more of them as you fight your way out. No doubt, choosing your battles cleverly, you might make it out of this castle within an inch of your life. How long do you think until our captor notices your absence and moves to recapture you again?"
"What good will breaking these shackles do then?"
"None at all."
Lorian waited for the creature to say something. He knew it had something in mind. He could feel it thinking inside his mind.
"You were right when you said that I wasn't a charitable creature. I am a greater Azhurai. My kind live in the deepest of the lower planes."
Azhurai. The term was unfamiliar to Lorian. But he did know that there were different kinds of demons. Arch-demons like Namoth and Naxannor that were far more powerful than ordinary summoned creatures. He heard rumors of several demons that served under Namoth as formidable commanders against the Army of Light.
"Alone, you would fall against the captor. But together, we could muster enough strength to escape these bonds."
"You just said you were powerless. How do you propose to be of any aid in battle?"
"I mentioned that our captor specializes in transforming and infusing essences into constructs. He has studied the subject extensively and has several such creatures in his possession. He has been trying with little success to...break me and imprison me in such a construct that he has reanimated. A body built from the flesh and bones of an Ich'varth. An ironic option for one such as me. And a most abhorrent species of demon from the lowest planes. While not as durable as that of an Azhurai, it will certainly serve as a…reasonable vessel for my essence. He has perfected the infusion process and I desire to be among the living again, but I do not wish to be stripped of my will and exist subordinate to him. You do see my dilemma?"
Lorian started shaking. It stopped as soon as it had started. Images flashed into Lorian's mind of acid-dripping talons and long, razor-sharp teeth ripping into flesh. He knew it was trying to keep its emotions in check, but it was no use. This was strongest emotion he had felt from the creature thus far. Lorian felt slavering hunger emanating from the room and flooding his mind. The creature seemed to relish that prospect of living again more than anything else.
"One of the many chambers in this castle serves as our captor's laboratory. I have been taken there countless times for his experiments. There, you will find everything you need to complete the infusion process."
"Your plan ends even before it has begun. I have not the means to escape these chains and get to the lab. And even if I could, even common necromancy is an alien magic to me, let alone the kind Amadeus performs. It would take me a considerable amount of time to be able to cast the necessary spell."
"Do not rush so, whelp," said the creature, betraying some anger. "I have had the opportunity to observe the way he works. He is a meticulous man. He takes note of every single spell that he casts and controls every facet of his attempts. He has orbs that capture every one of his actions and preserve them."
Lorian knew of such magic. The orbs were scribes that a mage could create. He had seen none at Norvind, but his old Master Thaugmir had one. It was only useful if you were performing complicated spells. And in his opinion, it was more trouble than worth to summon them. They required extensive care and complicated spells to function efficiently. Still, it was in his favor if Amadeus was using such magic to record and preserve his attempts.
"And how do you propose I get to the lab?"
He felt anger again, but no words this time. The creature seemed to not take kindly to being interrupted.
"You are not the first mortal creature to enter this prison. Our captor had a few apprentices serving him still when I was first taken prisoner. While he is a man who pursues knowledge, he does tend to get bored. Inside this vast castle, he has his own personal arena where he pits creatures against each other for his amusement. He mostly pits them against his own constructs to test their strength. I have not witnessed any of these, but I could read the minds of many of his apprentices. Each fearing they would be next. The stronger ones lived longer, but they, too, eventually fell against his constructs."
"You didn't attempt this plan with his apprentices? If what you say is true, many of them would have been willing to help you in return for escape."
"I had made attempts to do so. But his infusion process was still not as perfect as it is today. And his apprentices lived in dread fear of him. It was unthinkable for any of them to go against his will."
"So I'm not the first human here. What are you getting at?"
"Once he learns enough of your connection to the godling, he will release you. But only after he tests your strength in his arena."
"How do you know this?"
"I cannot look into his thoughts as clearly as yours. But I can glean fragments of it. Despite his prowess, he is still mortal, and his desires are plain to me."
Lorian was thoughtful. Despite the dire situation he was in, he had hated that he lost to the liches. A part of him longed to fight them once more. He had been playing out the direction the battle had taken numerous times since his defeat.
"You would do well to not expect those very creatures you faced before. He has many other kinds of constructs in his control. You cannot foretell the ones you would be facing."
"What happens after I defeat them?"
"He will likely give you some freedom to move about the castle. It is his hubris that will let him give you that f
reedom. He knows for a fact that you, on your own, can do very little to hurt him. But you will be entering his arena again. Sooner or later all his apprentices die. You would do well to remember that."
"If I do gain his trust, what makes you think I would help you?"
The Azhurai did not betray any anger as Lorian had thought it would. It was merely amused and then it gave a mental shrug.
"I am your only chance of any escape from this prison. You will understand that better once you are free of these bonds."
Lorian feared that might be true.
"Besides, you seem to think that you can defeat his constructs on your own. I can gauge your strength, young human. Some of his apprentices were much stronger than you. Yet, they, too, fell in the end. I do not claim to know all of his constructs, but I know enough of them from the thoughts of his apprentices. Their thoughts were constantly flooded with images of the constructs and their abilities."
"And you would share this with me?" asked Lorian.
"Only in exchange for your word. You will make your way to the laboratory and work on the infusion spell. I would think it does not require extensive changes to work the way I intend it to."
Again the thought turned his stomach. But the more he thought about it, his options were limited. The only other creatures that he knew of in this realm that could possibly match Amadeus's prowess was the godling, and maybe this Azhurai. Regardless of what was to come, if what the creature said was true, Lorian would soon be pitted against one of Amadeus's constructs, and the first step was to win that battle.
"So you can show me the kind of creatures that I would be facing?"
"I could. All I would require is your word that you will attempt the infusion spell."
"Very well then. You have it. Now show me these constructs."
Chapter 43
Jamaal had been right about the heat. It was far worse inside the fortress. Azrael was standing on one of the many balconies of Marduk and he was soaked in his own sweat. It wasn't the sun—it was well on its way to setting. At this time, Norvind would have a pleasant breeze. Marduk on the other hand was radiating heat. Even the courtyard was considerably cooler than inside the fortress.
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