Demon Stone

by D E Boske

  It was late in the night when the Gor Li’ Khan decided to stop. They rolled themselves in their blankets, quickly giving in to Ru Nay’ Sha.

  A group of men left the settlement soon after the elves departed. They saw the gold the elves had and were

  eager to have it all. Life in the Wilderness was hard and it took gold and skill a plenty to keep them fed. They stayed well behind them, for there was no cover other than the tall, dried grasses.

  The stupid elves did not even realize they were being followed. They would easily overcome them. The Faerie folk were outnumbered two to one. The men were big and brawny, thinking the slender elves to be easy prey. Apparently, they’d never heard of the Gor Li’ Khan, or they never would have entertained such thoughts.

  They followed them long into the night. Finally, the elves decided to stop. They did not even bother to set a watch. This would be easier than they first thought.

  They crept into the elves’ campsite, blades already drawn. But they never got to use them.

  Before they knew what was happening, the blankets exploded upward. The elves were up and battle ready. They went at them with eagerness on their faces.

  Two men for each elf. One attacked Kelindril from each side. He batted their weapons away easily, toying with them. He did not want to kill them too quickly and spoil the fun. Their weapons never got close to him, though. The men were covered in a sheen of sweat already, their arms beginning to tire. Kelindril was just getting warmed up.

  “You think you are a match for the legendary Gor Li’ Khan? Fools!” exclaimed Kelindril, plunging his sword deep into one’s chest.

  The rest were holding their own. Kelindril was not concerned for their safety. He toyed with his next victim. He let the Ni’ Kulana get close a time or two to keep it interesting. In the end, the result was the same. He ripped the man open from groin to chin with a savage grin on his face.

  A few of the men tried to get away, throwing down their weapons and running back the way they came. The Gor Li’ Khan could have let them go. But they did not. They cut them down one by one until all the attackers were dead. The elves were not even breathing hard.

  The dried grass eagerly soaked up the blood of the fresh kills, uncaring that it was not water. In this harsh climate, you took what you could get to survive.

  “Let us keep moving,” commanded Kelindril. Silently, they moved on, following Kelindril, leaving behind a bloody field of death.

  ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿

  It was late when Darian retired to his room alone. He shut the door, quickly undressed and got into bed. Ru Nay’ Sha took hold of him almost instantly.

  His dreams were dark. All he saw was Tynuviel going through every unspeakable horror that he could imagine. Alas he could imagine a lot. The Order had seen to that.

  He’d been witness to many terrible atrocities in his time there. His conscience was not clear either. He was responsible for his own share of horror. But he never inflicted it on women. Only fellow Mages. And they were deserving of it.

  He did not rest well, tossing and turning all night. He awoke before the sun rose. Bathing and dressing, he left his chambers behind for the comfort and solitude of the forest.

  Maybe a walk would help soothe his troubled mind. Maybe not, he thought darkly as he saw Mordinian coming toward him. He fervently hoped the thief would keep going. But the gods must have a cruel sense of humor this morning.

  “Darian,” greeted the thief. Darian kept walking, not even acknowledging him. Mordinian sighed, but kept pace with the tall Mage.

  “Don’t you have someone to rob or something? Or maybe stab someone in the back? I heard that’s how you lost your last blade,” said the Mage venomously.

  “Very funny,” replied the thief.

  “I was being serious.”

  “Why do you hate me so?” asked Mordinian, slightly offended.

  “Why do I hate you, hmmm let me think. Do you want them in order? Least to most or most to least?” responded Darian.

  “Haven’t I proven myself?”

  “The only thing you’ve proven is that you’re a big pain in my ass!” Darian said, rounding on him.

  To his credit, the thief did not back down. “Then why are you letting me accompany you to the Ancient Mountain?”

  “Are you daft? Shaz is coming and so is that idiot Knight, Thane. If they’re coming, why not you? I need as many as possible to ensure a positive outcome,” said the Mage. “I’d put up with almost anyone to get her back safely. But you, you’re a tricky bastard. Don’t think I could ever trust you. You spied on me. Betrayed my location to the Dark Mage. Captured Rohn and Koryn to find out information about me. What’s next? Are you gonna raid my underwear drawer? Why are you so interested in me?” the Mage was growing more irritable the longer he stood next to the thief.

  “I explained my motives to the council. I knew the Mages lied and I wanted to know why. I was curious about you. The more Mortin spoke, the more I knew he was desperate to find you. But not for the reasons they claimed. Forgive my intrusions. I only wanted to know you, to see for myself. And now I know what they said was wholly untrue. You, though bad tempered, are a good guy. You only want what’s best for The Order. But if we’re not careful, the Dark Mage will take over. And we cannot let that happen,” said the thief seriously.

  “You would meddle in the affairs of Mages?” asked Darian dourly.

  “It is not just the Mages’ affairs. It belongs to all of Corillia. If we let a Dark Mage loose, do you honestly think he will be satisfied with only Mogan Dar?”

  “I do not think. I know he will not. I must stop him. There is nothing any of you can do to help, except offer distraction. Blades will be of no use. He is strong and well versed in Dark Magic.”

  “I will do whatever I need to. I want to help, Darian.”

  “Then stay the hell out of my way!” The Mage walked away from the thief. He could not stand it anymore.

  Mordinian watched him go. He did not understand why Darian hated him so much. He’d been very cooperative. He even tried to help as much as he could. Oh well, he thought. Either he’ll get over it or he won’t.

  Darian left the thief standing there. He honestly didn’t care if he offended him or not. The day only got worse as he walked on. Killini was in his way and looked like he would not budge. He could open a gate and move past. He was not sure how much more animosity he could stand in one day.

  “Well, isn’t this delightful?” said the Mage sarcastically.

  “Darian, do you honestly think the Falahari a good thing? Do you think we’ll be able to save her?” asked Killini in the elven tongue.

  “You actually sound civil, Killini. What do you want?” asked the Mage in elvish.

  “I want to know if all those things you said were true. Will the demon be of help or not?” They spoke the elven tongue for the duration of their conversation.

  “I did not lie, and yes, the demon can help. Morphindinaetlus is a wicked beast, but he is clever and we’ll need all the help we can get. Why are you talking to me? You hate me,” asked Darian sourly.

  “We have to travel together so we have to get along, right?” said Killini.

  “Not really. There will be plenty of others to hate besides me,” the Mage retorted. Killini laughed. “Are you feeling alright?” asked Darian unconcernedly.

  “I’m fine, Mage. I know I have been unkind to you in the past. But it was only because of jealousy. We can move past that.”

  “Is that an apology?” asked Darian.

  “In my own way, yes,” replied the elf. “You can speak the tongue of the elves and that is something I can respect. You speak like one of us. Where did you learn?” asked Killini, intrigued.

  “In Mogan Dar,” the Mage said, without elaborating.

  “They teach you our speech?”

  “Nay. I taught myself.”

  “Really, Darian. How did you learn?”

  “I taught myself. There were books on elves and yo
ur culture in our library. I stayed up late many nights reading these. I was fascinated. I read whatever I could get my hands on. As I rose through the ranks, I sought out more books. I bought as many as I could find. There is not a Mage in Piri-Tuma who can speak the tongue of the elves. Not anymore. They may know words or phrases. But they cannot speak it or write it fluently. But I can.”

  “Darian, that is truly amazing! That you taught yourself… I have a newfound respect for you. I look forward to fighting side by side with you to bring Tynuviel safely home again,” said the elf.

  “Even if she is with me?” challenged Darian.

  “Even if she is with you. It is her happiness I care about and if she wants to settle for Ni’ Kulana that is her choice,” Killini finished, laughing as he spoke.

  Darian was too stunned to respond. He just watched as Killini walked away, unable to comprehend what just happened.

  All these years, Killini had hated Darian because the elf loved Tynuviel as well. He was jealous of her affection for the Mage and wasn’t afraid to show it. Killini had once attacked the Mage. That seemed so long ago now. If the volatile elf was serious, he would make a good companion. But Darian was short on trust. He would keep an eye on Killini just in case.

  ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿

  A few days later, Darian returned to inflict more damage on her already shattered mind. He had his way with her repeatedly. Day after horrible day slipped by uncounted. She rarely fought anymore. What was the use? She could not get free. The cold chains kept her a prisoner.

  When he took her, she went deep inside her mind where she knew he could not reach. Most times the dragon would leave them alone. Sometimes, he stayed to watch.

  In the beginning, it horrified her. It still did deep inside. But there was nothing she could do. How can you fight back when you cannot even move? Darian would sometimes use his magic on her. Not for pleasure, though. No. He would make himself invisible sometimes. Too bad she could still smell his rank odor. Sometimes it was so bad she retched from the smell.

  How could she possibly have loved this… this… monster! His grunts were coming faster now and she knew it would be over soon. When he finally rolled off of her, he was spent. That was the third time today and she hoped the last. She lost count the number of times he… She could not make herself even think the words.

  When he got up, he took a bucket of cold water and threw it at her to clean her up. At least today he had not hit her. Soon after, he took his leave and Tynuviel lay there and wept.

  She prayed fervently to Shenna. She must find the strength from deep inside herself. She vowed to live and make the Mage pay. She wished she had the stone to help her communicate over long distances. But Kyler usually kept it.

  Oh Shenna! She hoped they would come looking for her. Or at least to exact revenge. Then she would be rescued. She wanted to return home. Maybe there she could find the strength and be at peace to fully heal from this. She did not even think she wanted Tireniel anymore. No men for a long time! She’d had her fill of them. In more ways than one.

  8

  They left at dawn the following day. They went to the council room where Darian activated the gate. They all were clothed in the cloaks of the elves except for Darian, who wore his Shryvven, its silvery grey color shining in the sunlight.

  One by one, they stepped through to the dwarven stronghold. Gayla and Nayna were left behind; the upcoming journey was no place for them.

  “Ah, ‘tis good to be back home,” said Branson. “Too bad you canno’ stay, but alas, you’ve a long way to go yet.”

  They decided it would be best to continue right away. The more time they wasted, the less Tynuviel had.

  Thunder Peak was a vast mountain range stretching all the way north and south as far as the eye could see. Farther north there were caves that ran deep into the mountains where the goblins made their home.

  Darian elected to travel under the pass using the dwarven tunnels. It was warmer, drier and there was no snow down here. Stryker was in the lead now. No one knew these tunnels better than him. The forest elves carried Light Stones to illuminate their path while the dwarves carried torches. The Gor Li’ Khan flickered in and out, unsettling most of those present. Darian, Kyler, Nephraete and Calisha stayed together, but Kryndale and Tryndil were never far away.

  “How long will it take to get through the pass?” asked Kyler.

  “About three days,” replied the Mage.

  “What can we expect when we get to the other side?” inquired Kyler.

  “A barren wasteland where the temperature never gets above freezing. It will take us over a week to get to the lair. When we get through here, I will take the lead,” said Darian.

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” said Kyler.

  “You sure make Nephraete happy, Kyler. You fill her with incredible pleasure. It’s sooo distracting too,” said the Mage, watching as Kyler blushed. “She really needs to learn how to control her emotions. She is an open book to

  me. I feel what she feels.”

  “I’m sorry, Darian. I had no idea… Wow, this is embarrassing.”

  “There is nothing to be ashamed of, elf,” said the Mage, clapping his friend on the back. “If you do not fill her needs, she will look elsewhere. And I know where she would probably turn.”

  Calisha and Nephraete were still talking and paid them no mind. The way Calisha looked at her, Darian knew how he felt about the seer. He wondered why the Crebellan had pushed Nephraete to come to Kiri A’ Nouell if he loved her. He respected Calisha and he was a good traveling companion. He trusted him with his life and that was something that made the Mage pause. Before, the only one he trusted to that extent was Kyler. Either he had found true friends or he was becoming a damn stupid trusting bastard.

  ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿

  Far away in Mogan Dar, the Dark Mage was locked inside his room at Piri-Tuma. He was deep in concentration, drawing a protective circle. He could not afford any mistakes. He would attempt to call upon a Falahari demon. They were incredibly strong and willful.

  He’d sent Mortin to find recruits. The time had come to find and train more Dark Mages. He would need them to overthrow The Order. He checked the symbols, making sure they were in the correct placement, then he lit the candles.

  Standing inside the circle, he called upon the demon. “Sigorna, demon of Oblivion, heed my call and come forth!” he commanded. He waited, becoming perplexed when nothing happened. He tried again more forcefully. Nothing.

  “What the hell?” he said out loud. He studied his drawings. No errors, he was sure. How can the demon refuse? He thought. Either someone had destroyed it or… No! It could not be! Someone had bound the demon! He was sure of it. He must find out who.

  He called upon a lesser demon. Seconds later, it appeared from the swirling grey smoke.

  “What is it, Mage?” it sneered.

  “I want to know about the Falahari Sigorna. Someone has bound him and I would know who!”

  “Why do you think I would know this?” it asked.

  “You will find out. I will give you three hours. If you are not back by then, I will pull you back and kill you so slowly… I will rip the collected souls from you and devour them myself!” shouted the Dark Mage. The creature stared with baleful eyes at the Dark Mage. He studied the circle, but the bastard had made no mistakes. He must obey. The magic compelled him to do so.

  The shape of the demon dissolved into smoke, leaving the Dark Mage alone for now. He contemplated who could have bound the demon. Who could have the power? Who was strong enough? He paced the floor as he thought. A knock on his door pulled his attention back to the present.

  “Master, I found a small handful. I’ve brought them,” said Mortin.

  “Good,” he said, escorting them in.

  “What has the demon said?” asked Mortin.

  “Nothing yet. Someone has bound him. I will find out who, but it will take some time.”

  Two hours later, the lesse
r demon returned. “What have you found out?”

  “Nothing. No one knows. I looked for Sigorna, but he was not there.” He stood there brazenly, fearing no punishment. The Dark Mage could do nothing, the demon spoke the truth. He released him back to the pits of fire and blackness.

  “Now what?” asked Mortin.

  The Dark Mage despised the inadequate Mortin, but he was in a bind. He needed more Mages. Maybe the useless loser brought him something that he could work with.

  Looking them over, he held little hope. They were all novices. They had yet to learn

  to handle real magic let alone the darker arts. What did Mortin think he could do with this bunch? Beggars can’t be choosy, he thought.

  ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿ ﴾﴿

  Grey smoke swirled around Darian and anyone close to him gave a shout of surprise. And not a good surprise. The demon appeared in front of the Mage. He’d never done that before. He came of his own free will. Strong indeed, Darian thought. Darian kept his face intentionally blank as he wondered what else the Falahari could do of his own free will.

  “What is it?” the Mage asked gruffly, careful not to speak his name aloud.

  “They search for me. The Dark Mage has summoned me. He will undoubtedly want to know who bound me. I thought it a safer course to come to you. He will send other demons to find out who I am chained to. I thought you would like to know.”

  “Interesting,” mused Darian, stroking his chin with his right index finger. “How did he learn your name?” asked the Mage quietly, as they walked a safe distance from the others. It wasn’t hard anyway as no one wanted to be too close to the demon.

  “How did you?” The demon’s rejoinder came quick. The Mage’s lips curved in a smile.

  “How indeed,” was all he said. “You did well in alerting me. You may remain with us for now if you wish,” he offered. The rest of the company eyed them askance, but said nothing. They were wary of the powerful Mage and did not wish to face his explosive anger.