by D E Boske
“I’m sorry. I just can’t make myself feel sorry for her. I’m excessively jealous. Does that make me a terrible person?” she asked.
“No Ty, it doesn’t. I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve been through with him. But if you do still love him… wouldn’t it be worth it to finally be with him?”
“Yes, but what about pride and self-respect? Does he think I can just disregard his forays? That I’m so desperate I just don’t care? Maybe at one time, but not anymore. I’ve got a good thing with Tireniel and I don’t want to hurt him. He loves me. I mean really loves me. He treats me with respect and kindness. I’m truly torn. It’s always been Darian. Everyone knows that. But now there’s Tireniel and he never makes me cry.”
“But he’s no Darian either.”
“No. He’s not,” she said wistfully.
Nephraete could not argue. All Darian ever seemed to accomplish was to make her friend cry. She wanted her friend to be happy and although she liked Tireniel, she thought Darian was the better choice despite all the pain and tears. After all, he did not mean to hurt her.
He was tormented as well. No one could understand that better than she. She could not often feel his emotions, but occasionally when he was distracted… The rushing torrent left her breathless and weeping. How he could stand it day after day was beyond her. To feel that kind of pain every waking moment… knowing there was nothing you could do about it. But now there was hope. She could feel that as well. She saw it in the look meant only for Tynuviel. There was electricity in the air whenever they were in the same room together. They were meant for each other. This she was certain of.
29
Darian cast the first spell. A humming noise began to emanate throughout the large chamber. Despite the dangers of the previous day, the two elven mages returned to lend what aid they could.
They held onto the weave, eyes tightly shut. They would not repeat their mistakes. It was a lesson learned the hard way.
A violent wind came crashing through the gate with the smell of death close on its heels. They heard an eerie, hollow laugh that sounded like crumbling dead twigs and leaves.
“The Plane of Shadows! Pay it no heed,” Darian commanded as he began his next spell.
The shadow hissed venomously. “A Mage of The Order. Come closer that I might devour you.” The shadow touched the opening, trying to come through. Simultaneously, two things happened. An alarm sounded, high and keening, and then the shadow shrieked in hatred and pain.
“Come to my plane Mage. I’ll make you dance like the bitch you are,” it rasped. However, it did not leave. The shadow stayed to watch.
“What kind of Mage needs two helpers? Are you that weak or just stupid? You could get them killed by helping you. Were they aware of the risks or did you just lie like all you Mages do? No. Not lie. Evade the truth, right? Step around it. And you call us evil. You manipulate
everyone and everything you come into contact with. I’d say that makes us brothers.”
Darian began his next spell and the shadow began to fade. Kyler could not hide his surprise. He suspected that what the shade spoke was the truth.
Darian never let it faze him. There was no break in his chanting. How did he not get distracted? He possessed an incredible concentration level. Kyler had never seen anything like it. Even yesterday with peril so close and Loganthar almost lost to them, still Darian finished his spells. He did not, no, would not stop until he was done. He guessed that was what his friend had trained so hard for all his life.
Suddenly, the elf wondered how much of what Darian told him earlier was the truth. He probably told him that because he knew how the elf would react. He’d manipulated him easily like a horny, drunk wench.
He never actually told him anything, just implied it. He let a man’s imagination do the rest. He wondered briefly how many times Darian had done it. How often had his friend stage-managed him? He did it so easily, too. Making you believe that it was your decision, your idea.
If Darian was not in the middle of casting and if there was no one else here, Kyler would have confronted him already. What was the purpose, really? If Darian did not want you to know something, he would not tell you. Or he would make you believe something else. It was a wonder they had remained friends this long. Kyler knew it was a big part of his training; it was who the Mage was. He couldn’t help it. In spite of it all, Kyler trusted Darian. The Mage was his best friend. Closer even than the elves Kyler had grown up with. No small thing, that. And a cause for great animosity to some.
The air turned cold. Bitter cold. Then fiery hot within seconds. It fluctuated back and forth before finally settling on hot. But not just any hot. Hotter than the fiery pits of Oblivion hot. Steam filled the air with a gut-wrenching, eye-watering, clench your teeth, you’re gonna’ vomit stench.
Kyler coughed involuntarily, Lorin and Loganthar gagged. Darian appeared oblivious. Did anything bother him, really? The floor trembled and shook, something big was on the move.
The thing that appeared in the gateway was straight out of Oblivion. It was over nine feet tall and heavily muscled. It had skin the color of hot ash, fluttering wings on its back, horns on its temple and deep red eyes. Its hands and feet ended in long, curved black nails.
Its voice was a deep rumble. “Mage! You should not dabble in things you cannot control. I will rip your limbs from your body, suck your juices dry and devour your flesh. Come closer. Let me see your face. Your voice… very familiar. You’ve called on me before. How did you learn my name? I can feel your strength, your power. You have no equal. There is none stronger. I hear what they say about you, Darian Brade.”
Lorin and Loganthar almost let go of the weave so startled were they. Kyler had his hand on his sword, listening intently. Darian just began to cast his next spell, as if a demon from Oblivion had not just recognized him. Well, at least he’s consistent, thought Kyler.
“Darian, can you come out to play?” it rasped. “The Dark Mage would love to get his hands on you.” Darian stiffened, the only visible reaction he’d shown. “Lorin, Loganthar and Gor Li’ Khan please leave us,” Darian commanded.
“Darian, what are you doing?” asked Kyler worriedly. There was no need not to call him by name, as the demon already knew him.
“Falahari, what do you know of this Dark Mage?” asked Darian, stepping closer. He did not have time for the protective circles but the demon could not come through the gate anyway. At least they had some level of protection.
“Why should I tell you?” asked the demon without malice.
“Because I, unlike those other pompous bastards, never treated you badly.”
“This is true. You always asked your questions and let me go. But why should this matter to me? I would like to get my hands on some of those Mages. The things they did to me should not be allowed.”
“No. They shouldn’t. I have a proposition for you Sigorna,” Darian said as a dangerous plan began to emerge.
“I’m listening,” mused the demon.
“What if we join forces, go after the Dark Mage and bring about the end of The Order as we know it?” asked the Mage, scarcely believing himself.
“What! Darian no! You cannot do this,” Kyler began to protest, but the Mage held up his hand, stifling any further argument.
“What’s to stop us from turning on each other?”
“Bind yourself to me,” said the Mage.
“What? Are you mad?” asked Sigorna. To be honest, Kyler was beginning to think the same thing.
“No, I’m not. Once we accomplish what I want, I will return your Demon Stone to you if you wish it and our partnership will be dissolved. I can promise you terrible bloodshed, for I have many enemies. The Dark Mage commands Morphindinaetlus. How would you like to pit yourself against the wyrm?” In answer, Sigorna smiled, which was a fearsome sight as his six-inch fangs protruded from his lips.
“In all my centuries of life Mage, I have never been stupid enough to bind myself to a Mage of The Order. Do I look
like a jackass Darian?”
“Do you want revenge on The Order?”
“You know that I do,” said Sigorna, his voice grated on Kyler’s nerves and the elf clenched his jaw so as not to vomit.
“Join with me Falahari. We would make a great team you and I,” said Darian, his voice soft, coaxing and Kyler found that he was beginning to believe the Mage. He felt the magic Darian was using, probably to entice the demon, soft and insidious as it oozed across the floor in the closed space.
“Why would you do this Darian? Why would a Mage of The Order destroy the very thing that gave him life?”
“That’s not important. I can promise you death and destruction and as many Mages as you can devour.”
“Mmm, sounds delicious. What’s the catch?” asked Sigorna, rubbing his chin as he stared at the Mage, obviously thinking over Darian’s proposition.
“You may only kill those I deem worthy of death. Only those that have betrayed Delvishan and The Order shall by yours. All others will remain free of your foul touch. If you at any time disobey my command, I will send you back to Oblivion in torment. You have never felt pain such as I can inflict upon you. You have never seen the depth of my ire nor do you want it directed at you. Bind yourself to me Falahari and you will know the taste of Mage blood. I will reward your loyalty as we punish my enemies. Do this and you will know retribution. Once the deed is done, I will release you to return to Oblivion. On my word, I will release you as I always have. What say you?”
“Do not deceive me, Mage. When I want my stone back, you better give it to me.”
“I will. Besides, with you bound to me no other may call upon you. This is the only way. I’ve never deceived you before, have I?” asked the Mage, scarcely believing the powerful Sigorna was even contemplating his offer.
“I was never bound to you before. You stand to gain everything while I stand to lose my freedom.”
“Freedom,” Darian snorted. “Is that what you call it? Waiting every day to be summoned by some worthless ass who’s not even qualified to clean my boots, hoping that it won’t happen as much as you hope it will? You long to kill, to feed on the flesh and blood of your enemies! It is what you do. It defines you. All this, I offer you. Let my enemies become your enemies. What say you?” asked Darian, holding his breath.
“You know what you must do,” rasped the demon, and Darian nodded.
“Darian…” the panic was evident in Kyler’s voice. “Darian, no! What are you doing?” He trusted his friend, but… this?
“Kyler, what’s wrong?” asked the Mage.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is this whole situation! You cannot really mean to go through with this. I beg of you, don’t. You cannot be that desperate. Honestly.” Kyler sent his thoughts, feeling safer to do so. He did not want the demon to know his fears.
“I believe it to be our best course of action. What else can I do? Take on The Order by myself? Even with you by my side, I know you are not arrogant enough to believe we can take them down. Even backed by the elven army. We need help. We do not know how many we will face. For I’m sure the Dark Mage has been recruiting. Trust me.” Darian’s eyes were pleading, begging for the elf’s understanding.
Kyler knew deep down that his friend was right. However, he was not sure he would be able to remain by Darian’s side with a demon in their midst. Neither could he leave Darian to face this alone. Difficult choices…
It was a long time coming, but finally the elf prince came to a decision. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Relief flooded Darian, though he did not let it show. That was weak.
Darian summoned the demon into the chamber with them, but to Kyler’s surprise, the demon handed its stone to Darian and they both began chanting.
The stone was… well, it was beautiful. It was about eight inches in diameter. Amber and black swirled in its depths.
The spell casting took several minutes. When it was finally over, a chain appeared around the demon’s thick neck. The demon stone shrunk in size, appearing around Darian’s neck on its own chain. Sigorna bowed his head. It was done. Now he must hope the Mage before him was a man of his word.
Sigorna sniffed the air, “Who’s the elf that hides just beyond my sight?”
“My name is Kyler,” said the elf, stepping into view.
“Ah, the pride of Kiri A’ Nouell. You who have no desire to rule. That must be oh so frustrating to Galavad.”
“How do you…” the elf trailed off.
“The creatures of Oblivion can see things that happen here on Corillia. That is why the Mages summon them to answer questions.”
“What’s to stop them from lying?” asked the ever-curious elf.
“You lead a sheltered life, eh elf? We answer truthfully because we have no choice. The damn spell-casters draw their protective circles. They must be prepared before calling on us. First, they must learn a demon’s name. Unless they have a name, drawing their circles does them no good. There are lesser demons like Pit Shrykes, demons like Glundorn’s and greater demons like me, a Falahari.
“Not many Mages dare to summon the Falahari. We are strong and hard to control. And
if you make one mistake… Your soul will be ours. We will devour you. You will be our slave for an eternity.” Sigorna gave a wicked grin.
“What’s to stop you from terrorizing us?” asked Kyler.
“The Mage controls me now. Anyone whom he wishes I will destroy. I suggest you stay on his good side. You don’t seem happy about the situation. Neither am I. I’d just as well make you my slave, elf. But rules are rules.”
“Alright,” Darian intervened. “Kyler is my friend; protect him as you do me.”
The demon laughed, “Your friend? Mages do not have friends.”
“This one does,” Kyler said ominously.
“Interesting, hmmm. That’s a first,” he snorted.
“You may go now, Falahari. I’ll call when I have need of you,” dismissed Darian. They both watched as the demon stepped back through the gate, chuckling to himself.
“What the hell were you thinking Darian? Do you think this was a wise move? Bringing a demon into our midst! I know how badly you want to find the Dark Mage, but I must question your sanity here.”
“Don’t be droll. It’s perfectly safe. He is under my command.”
“How did you learn his name, Darian?”
“That is not open to discussion,” the Mage replied tightly, turning his attention back to the gateway. “I’ll finish up here and we can be on our way in the morning.”
It took him about one more hour to finish the gateway. A loud humming noise accompanied by a strong vibration ripped through the chamber. When it was over, the portal snapped violently into place and the blackness inside was gone, replaced by the cold stone of Thunder Peak. It appeared like a strange archway leading nowhere.
Branson came to inspect it. “Ah, ye did well Mage. Me n’ me kin’s thanks. Ye gonna’ show us how to use it afore’ ye leave, ain’t ye?” queried the king.
Darian laughed, “Of course.”
“Come, let us eat,” Branson announced. In answer, Darian’s stomach betrayed him. He had missed many a meal during the creation of the gate and had lost more than a few pounds.
At the table, Gayla noticed the chain around Darian’s neck. “I don’t remember seeing this before. Where did you get it?” she asked, reaching out to touch it, but Darian stopped her. He didn’t speak, just pushed her hands away.
“Sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed. The dwarves did not notice anything that was not on their plates, but everyone else did. Asa frowned disapprovingly, but Tynuviel smiled to herself.
Later on, back in their room, Darian took Gayla’s hand. “I’m sorry for earlier. I just didn’t want any undue attention.” She merely nodded. He’d hurt her feelings, he knew.
“Gayla, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, I’m sorry. Tomorrow, we’ll be in the elven homeland. It’s peaceful there and I’m sure you’ll love it.�
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He went to kiss her, but she turned away. He did not spare another thought for her. He was weary and could care less right now. He got undressed and quickly slipped into Ru Nay’ Sha. The creation of the gate had taken its toll on him.
He awoke in the middle of the night to an erotic pleasure. Gayla was on her knees between his. Then she climbed atop him, putting her hands on his chest to steady herself. She tilted her head back as her motion increased.
He sat up, holding onto her. He got her on her back and took control. She sighed, entwining her fingers in his growing hair, kissing him hungrily.
The demon watched from the stone still around the Mage’s neck. This just might be worth his while after all. Sigorna smiled as he sat back to enjoy the show.
﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿
Morphindinaetlus awoke to a terrible pain in his head. The accursed Dark Mage was trying to reach him again. The pain began to steadily increase. If he didn’t answer soon, he was afraid his head would explode like a rotted melon.
“Yes, yes what is it?” the dragon rumbled.
“What are you doing lying about? Where is Darian?”
“That son of a bitch! I hope he fell from the cliff. I’m still healing from that battle.
He is powerful. More so than you led me to believe. He is a formidable enemy.”
“Weakling!” shouted the Dark Mage. “If I’d told you how strong he really was, you would’ve balked. Now stop acting like a hatchling and find him!” the Mage roared.
“No,” said the dragon.
“What?” sneered the Dark Mage.
“No. I must heal or I will be of no use to you.”
“You’re no use to me now!”
“Then turn me loose,” dared the wyrm.
“I’ll turn you loose alright, you malevolent idiot! Maybe I’ll turn you over to Darian. I’m sure he’d love to get his hands on you.”
“I’m not scared of him or you,” the dragon roared, severing the connection.
The Dark Mage was a bit surprised. He hadn’t known the dumb beast had it in him. Maybe his plan would be salvageable yet.