The Treachery Of A Weasel

by Robert Blanchard

  I didn’t say anything, just stood next to him.

  “This is very dangerous, Aidan,” he said finally.

  “I have to try.”

  “You may not come back alive.”

  I was silent for a moment. “It’s a risk I have to take. I have to know if she is alive, and if she is, I have to get her out.”

  It took a moment for the dragon to respond. When he spoke, he nearly broke my heart.

  “Then I’m with you, Aidan. To the very end.”

  My heart sunk. I really didn’t want to involve anyone else in this, especially my dragon friend who had sacrificed so much for me already.

  But there’s no talking a dragon out of anything they don’t want to do. I climbed up on his back, close so his neck.

  Without another word, Iskandor took flight, heading east toward Min Lenoras.

  ***

  The entire flight, I could only think of one thing.

  Mirabelle.

  What is Sirak doing to her? Is she even still …

  No. I wouldn’t even entertain the notion.

  Because if she’s not, I will tear Min Lenoras down around his ears. I will tear him limb from limb, and I won’t even do arms and legs. I’ll do toes, then feet, then shins …

  I forced myself to stop. My rage was getting to me before I even knew what was going on.

  But on the heels of that—what exactly was I going to do when I got to the Dark Citadel?

  Doesn’t matter. I’ll kill anyone and anything in my way to get to her.

  “I truly hope you know what you’re doing, Aidan.” Iskandor was clearly concerned.

  “I’m saving the love of my life,” I answered, yelling over the wind.

  “Are you?” Iskandor’s voice was even. “You have to get past Sirak, Norvin, and a hundred thousand Ther-lor first. If you fail, then you’re not saving anybody.”

  “I have to try,” was all I could say.

  “I’ll help you as much as I can,” Iskandor said, “but the fortress at Min Lenoras is loaded full of dragon-slaying weaponry. Once they start firing, they’ll be able to keep me at bay.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I answered steadily. “I’ll worry about it once I get inside.”

  Iskandor didn’t say anything more, but the concern was evident in his demeanor.

  Finally, I could see it in the distance—the Dark Citadel. It looked far different that when I saw it three thousand years in the future, the first difference being that that citadel was built over the ruins of Delmar instead of Min Lenoras. The second difference was that the one I saw previously was built over three thousand years, while this one was only a few months old. The major thing that was missing was the enormous black spire that stretched to the heavens.

  Suddenly there was a whoosh as an enormous ballistae flew just past us.

  “That didn’t take long,” Iskandor said calmly. “Hang on!”

  And then we were dodging as dragon-slaying projectiles soared through the air at an alarming rate. Iskandor showed no sign of fear as he maneuvered past each one, drawing us closer and closer to the fortress. As we got closer, I could see the Ther-lor below, on the walls of the fortress—showing no signs of panic or frustration, they calmly but efficiently loaded another projectile into each weapon, ready to fire again.

  Below the walls, the ground was swarming with Ther-lor.

  “To the fortress!” I yelled to the dragon.

  “I won’t be able to land!” Iskandor responded.

  “You don’t need to! Just keep flying!”

  “Aidan …” Iskandor said, but I was no longer listening.

  Iskandor knew what I was going to do and tried to avoid the fortress, but either by fate or design, dodging the projectiles forced us closer.

  Almost close enough …

  “Aidan, don’t!” Iskandor screamed, but he was too late.

  Diving toward the highest tower, I could only pray that I knew what I was doing. Telekinesis was one of the only enjoyable parts of my powers, but would it help me now?

  Too late to worry about little things like splattering myself all over a bunch of stone rocks.

  The tower was coming fast …

  I concentrated, harder than I ever had in my entire life. I focused on the spot where I was going to land.

  I could feel myself slowing down …

  But not nearly enough.

  I crashed painfully onto the floor of the tower. All the injuries I had sustained during the confrontation with Norvin flared up again, only a million times worse. It felt like my entire body was on fire. I groaned and tried to pull myself up, but it took enormous effort. After a few moments, I managed to pull out one of my shortswords and drag myself to my feet.

  Just as a Ther-lor came around the corner.

  As quickly as I could, I pulled myself up to my feet and blocked the sword slash attempt by the Ther-lor. I immediately countered by stabbing him under the chin, killing him.

  Iskandor was still yelling my name from above, but I ignored him. I was too close to give up now.

  I have to find her.

  I limped through the door the Ther-lor had just come out of. There was no one in sight. The small room was just a hallway that elbowed to the right and led to a set of stairs leading down.

  Moving took a tremendous effort, but I pulled myself to the stairs and started my descent. Going down each step caused more tremendous pain to shoot through my body, and I winced with each jolt.

  As I got to the bottom, I still sensed no sign of life. I turned to the right—

  And was suddenly thrown against the wall, pinned. At full strength, I might have been able to fight it, but in my weakened state, I was powerless.

  “Aidan!” A voice exclaimed, somehow cheerful despite its gravelly nature. Sirak was wearing the same black armor and black hood he always wore. His hand was outstretched toward me, his powers of telekinesis keeping me in place. “How nice of you to come see me! I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

  His face was hidden under a black hood, but unfortunately, I’d seen it before. And I was sure it was as grotesque as ever.

  “Love what you’re doing with the place,” I growled through winces of pain. “It’s got that graveyard, abyss kind of feel.”

  “I’ve had a lot of people working on it,” Sirak shrugged. “So what brings you here to my world of paradise, Aidan? Come to kill me?” He followed this question with giggling.

  “Where is she?”

  Sirak’s hooded head tilted slightly to the right. “By ‘she’, I assume you mean Lady Mirabelle.”

  “Of course, you freak!” I hissed at him. “Where are you keeping her? If you’ve done something to her, by the gods …”

  Sirak looked away for a moment, as if wondering about something.

  And then he started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I growled at him.

  “So he actually went ahead and did it,” Sirak muttered between chuckles, almost to himself. Before my impatience reached the boiling point, he elaborated. “I don’t have your little ‘friend’, Aidan. That Norvin—he’s a sadistic man, Aidan. And if you didn’t realize it already, he’s got it in for you. The truth is, there was a plan to kidnap your little girlfriend. But not long after I turned our good friend Norvin to my cause, he disappeared—I assume because he was expecting me to betray him again, so instead he betrayed me first. No matter—when I changed him, I put in a failsafe that I can use at any time. But quite frankly, I’m curious to see what will do. Amused, really.”

  “So where is she?” I asked, suddenly deflated by the knowledge that she wasn’t here, as well as the fact that I was captured and not going anywhere.

  “If I were you,” Sirak answered, “I would check her home country.”

  Of course, I thought to myself. If Norvin’s not here, of course he’s with Marion. Those two are made for each other.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, my voice practically a whisper. “If y
ou’re going to kill me, get it over with. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway …”

  “Kill you?” Sirak replied, seeming incredulous at the idea. “Why would I do that?”

  I was speechless. What exactly was he going to do with me then?

  “It’s true that killing you would make things a great deal easier,” he continued, “but so would making you the newest member of my family.”

  ***

  And so it was to be then—my legacy was not to end with a bang, with my dignity and legend intact. It was to end as part of a race of soulless, evil beings, a travesty against nature. My end was to come without my soul, and my corpse was to roam Min Lenoras forever, doing Sirak’s bidding until someone or something ended my miserable existence.

  To be used as a weapon against my friends.

  Sirak stuck me in a dungeon for what seemed like forever. In there, time just seemed to blend in with itself, and I couldn’t tell how many minutes, hours, days past. He had me chained to a wall, and the chains were enchanted to nullify my powers and abilities. I couldn’t escape.

  Believe me, I tried.

  While I was chained to that wall, all I could think of were two things: Garridan, how he had suffered under that terrible Ther-lor existence when I met him in the future that would never be. And, of course, the other was—

  Mirabelle.

  I’m sorry, my love. I failed you.

  And the worst part was—she died angry with me. Disappointed. Our differences from Longhaven hadn’t been resolved, and it broke my heart even more to think that she thought less of me when she died.

  I cried, for I don’t know how long. It didn’t matter anyway—no amount of crying would save either one of us. I could only hope and pray that her end came more swiftly and more merciful than mine was about to be.

  To Sirak’s credit, he healed me of the injuries I had sustained. Many doses of foul-tasting potion helped to mend me over time. But he fed me very little—some stale bread occasionally, and enough water to keep me alive, but weak beyond measure.

  Finally, they came and got me. They weren’t Ther-lor—they were men in black robes. Sirak’s cult members. The ones who assisted in changing entire cities of people into Ther-lor.

  They dragged me to a room with a large stone table. I tried to fight the cultists on the way, but I was too weak and my attempts were feeble.

  The cultists—there were about a dozen in total—chained me to the table in this dimly lit room and moved back a couple steps, watching me silently. I wanted to appeal to them, try and get them to help me, but I quickly shut that thought down—damned if I was going to beg for my life.

  “Good morning, Lord Aidan,” Sirak’s whiny voice came, clearly still reveling in taunting me. “How are you feeling today?”

  I may have been too weak to fight, but my mouth was still working just fine. “I feel like I’m at the mercy of a lunatic, thank you.”

  Sirak chuckled. “Defiant to the end, are we? That’s fine—in a few short moments, that defiance will be a thing of the past. Today, you will be purified, a perfect member of society.”

  “By the gooooods, you are boring me,” I groaned. “Could we please just get this over with?”

  “As you wish,” Sirak said with a bow. “Normally, it takes three days of performing the Sol-haleth ritual to complete the change, and my faithful members often need weeks of recovery, but that is because we are changing an entire city worth of people. For one man—this shouldn’t take long at all. Also,” he continued, a sinister grin (I suppose) spreading across his features, “I won’t make the same mistake with you that I did with that ungrateful Norvin. You won’t get to keep your free will. However, you will still be conscious inside your shell of a body, and you will see everything I order you to do, but you will be able to do nothing to stop it.”

  After we had saved Delmar, I had heard tales from the people about their miserable existence as a Ther-lor. I remember being mortified then.

  Now I was actually going to see it for myself.

  I was horrified.

  “Before we begin, please allow me to thank you for your service, Aidan,” Sirak said, and to be fair, he sounded sincere, but given his cause and what I was about to go through, the statement was too ridiculous to be dignified.

  “Screw you,” I muttered. “Why are you doing this?”

  Sirak tilted his head a little. “By ‘why’, I’m assuming you’re asking why I seek to purify the world. Isn’t it obvious? Look around you, Aidan—you see the depravity, the backstabbing, the cruelty of the human race. This society—it is a poison, coursing through the veins of this world. Everyone is for themselves, and no one is for each other. Look at you, Aidan—because of what your society believed about dragons, you were cast out, treated like nothing after all you had done for them! Under my rule, the world will never be like that, ever again.”

  All of that was stuff I had heard before, but I continued to listen. Sirak had an evil charisma about him, and I couldn’t resist being drawn in and intrigued by his words.

  Sirak went on. “I know your entire history, Aidan—you don’t know what it’s like to truly be betrayed by those you love. Do be discarded like you are nothing. To have parents who cared nothing for you.”

  I would have protested all of that, except for the part about the parents. I sensed a sore spot, and I couldn’t resist one final shot at him. “Awww … did your pawents tweat you badwy as a child?”

  My taunting clearly enraged Sirak—I could see the fire in his eyes. He walked up to the table and put his hideous face in mine. “Treat me badly? THEY SOLD ME!” He screamed, which startled me—I couldn’t remember Sirak screaming in anger like that. “My parents were drug addicts, wastes of life forms. All they were ever looking for was their next fix, and all they ever cared about was getting it. One day, in a fit of desperation, they sold me to an underground slave trade to get enough drugs to last them one day—ONE DAY!”

  I definitely had hit a tender subject with Sirak, and now I wished I hadn’t. The pain and anger in his eyes—I had to admit, I felt a bit of compassion for him, and the reasons why he was what he was instantly began to fit into place.

  “I pleaded with them,” Sirak continued. “I was only ten at the time, not nearly fit to be on my own. I knew what happened in the slave trade, and I was scared. Did my parents care? Of course not! They got what they wanted and got rid of me to get it!

  “I was tortured there, physically, mentally, and sexually. Over time, my pleas of mercy stopped as they continued to fall on deaf ears. Five years I suffered that torture, day in and day out, no end in sight. Many times I tried to kill myself, but I was always caught and punished. This was to be my fate for the rest of my miserable life.”

  Sirak was silent for a moment, then he continued. “But one day, I saw my chance and I escaped. I was finally free from that horrible world, but now, I was truly on my own for the first time, and I knew not how to take care of myself. But that didn’t matter—I only had one thing in mind. To find them.”

  Sirak’s story was already chilling, but now it took on an even more menacing tone. “I did. It took a while, but I found them. They hadn’t changed at all—still wasting their pathetic lives on drugs and booze. I followed them, found where they lived, then waited until nightfall.”

  Sirak laughed. “Were they ever surprised to see my face. They hadn’t expected to see me again. They even seemed happy to see me—but I was much happier to see them.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “What happened?”

  Sirak was staring at another world I couldn’t see. “I tortured them, just as I had been tortured. I gagged them to muffle their pathetic screams. I scarred every inch of their worthless bodies. Then, at daylight, I killed them, making sure that they were staring into my eyes when I did it.”

  I was speechless with shock.

  “But the story doesn’t end there,” Sirak went on. “Soon after, I fell in with a secret cult, where I learned the craft of magi
c and the strength that comes along with it. As a part of them, I murdered the entire slave trade that had ravaged me for years and years. Apparently, that was too much for them—they exiled me to the Netherrealm. You’d know nothing of that lifeless void, being trapped in a sea of nothingness for all eternity as your body slowly rots away. Eventually, the Dyn’osi found me, and wanted to help me spread my beliefs to the world. You know the rest. But enough of that—it’s time for you to join my perfect society, my perfect world.”

  With another presumed smile, Sirak backed away and he said something in another language to his priests. I fought back tears as they all started chanting, each chanting something different, all words I couldn’t understand. Every instinct I had screamed at me to do something, anything to fight out of this. But my body just wouldn’t obey, and with my powers nullified, there was no point anyway.

  The chanting continued, an endless, jumbled droning that threatened to crack my sanity long before my existence as a Ther-lor could.

  As they were chanting, I could hear a faint ringing in my ears, persistent but very muffled.

  They chanted and chanted …

  And then, suddenly, they stopped.

  “What the—” Sirak whispered. “How … is that possible?”

  I’d had my eyes closed, but I opened them at the sound of Sirak’s bewildered tone. I still had full use of my limbs, and when I pulled my head up to look down at my body, I could see that it was the same, that nothing had changed. I let out short gasps of relief, my heart racing frantically.

  “He should be changed by now,” Sirak growled at his priests. “Why didn’t it work?” His voice raised in anger at the last part, causing all of us to jump.

  “I—I don’t know, Lord Sirak,” one of them said, stepping forward. “The ritual should have worked—he should be a Ther-lor by now!”

  Sirak stared at me for quite a while, taking slow, even steps around the cold stone table. Clearly, he was running over any possible issues in his mind, any possible reason why the ritual didn’t work on me.