The Treachery Of A Weasel

by Robert Blanchard

  Finally, after walking around to the other side of the table, he stopped. “There can only be one explanation.”

  We all waited as Sirak stood there for a moment, silent.

  And then he laughed.

  Sirak stared me in the eyes. “When that dragon brought you back to life, he stole your humanity. There is only a trace left, but for all intents and purposes—you are no longer human.”

  There it was, confirming my worst fears. I was no longer a man. I was a freak, some kind of demon …

  An unknown.

  Despair overwhelmed me.

  “Well, this changes things,” Sirak said, clearly disappointed. “Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

  Then Sirak’s face suddenly brightened.

  “I have it!” He proclaimed in glee. “A punishment worse than death! It’s perfect!” He laughed joyfully.

  “Just tell me and get it over with,” I breathed.

  Sirak bent in close, just inches from my face. “The Netherrealm,” he whispered. “Trapped in a blank void, hovering in a lifeless eternity while you feel the searing burn of your flesh slowly rotting away. I will send you there, and you will spend the rest of your deathless existence suffering for the crime of disrupting my plans to create a perfect world!”

  “Sounds charming,” I muttered sarcastically. Part of me was scared, but I certainly wasn’t going to give Sirak the satisfaction of seeing that.

  The rest of me just didn’t care anymore.

  Sirak smiled, then turned to his priests. “Take him away.”

  With that, the priests dragged me off the table and out of the room. My mind was swirling with turmoil—since I had been changed, the big question was what I was, and whether I was human or not. Now the answer was clear.

  I wasn’t.

  Even before the change, I had trouble believing that I belonged in the world I lived in. I was a bit of an outcast, treated as such by my peers because they believed me to be Garridan’s pet. After the change, my strange ghastly appearance alienated me to everyone except to my closest friends.

  What am I?

  All these things tore my mind apart as the priests dragged me back to the dungeon.

  And there they left me, to rot away the rest of my existence.

  ***

  “Aidan. Aidan. Aidan.”

  I kept hearing my name over and over. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.

  “Aidan. Open your eyes.”

  I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to be left alone until I complied. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

  Bright light blinded me. I tried to cover my eyes, but my hands were still chained to the stone wall.

  The bright light began to fade, but it was still blinding. My eyes began to adjust to the surroundings, and astonishingly, I found myself in a white void. There was nothing around me except the stone wall and the chains that bound me to it.

  A figure was standing in front of me—a figure wearing the armor of Delmar. Ice blue eyes peered out from under a large helmet. The helmet was emblazoned with a red eagle, and there was a plume of horse hair sticking out from the top of it.

  “Garridan,” I breathed.

  There was an expression of deep sadness on his face. “I’m here, lad.”

  Something stuck in my throat and I coughed. “Seems like … I’ll be joining you shortly.”

  “Don’t give up, lad.”

  “Why not? There’s nothing I can do. I’m … trapped here. Mirabelle’s … dead …”

  “You don’t know that.” Garridan’s voice was level and firm.

  “I know,” I sobbed. “I feel it in my heart.

  “Don’t give up, Aidan.”

  “You think anyone’s coming for me?” I yelled at Garridan. I don’t think I had ever raised my voice to him before, but I couldn’t help it—I was overcome with despair. “I know they would if they could, but they don’t stand a chance against the Ther-lor!”

  Garridan smiled down at me lightly. “Have faith, Aidan.”

  In what? I thought bitterly, but I clamped my mouth shut. Talking was really hurting my throat anyway—and besides I didn’t want to disrespect Garridan any more than I likely already had.

  Garridan was still smiling. “Sometimes … fate works in mysterious ways.”

  Then he turned and walked away, fading into the white light.

  “Garridan, wait!” I yelled, then I coughed, the strain of using my voice ravaging my throat. “Don’t leave me!”

  Then I jolted, suddenly awake. The steel chains clanged loudly in the darkness.

  Another day had passed. They hadn’t fed me at all—I presumed that with no other choice other than to kill me outright, Sirak had elected to simply starve me to death. Fine by me—I didn’t care anymore anyway.

  Most of what I had left to care about in life was gone—my love, my life, my humanity. All I really had left were my friends, and they seemed even farther away than they actually were. The gods couldn’t take my life fast enough.

  “I’m sorry, Mirabelle,” I whispered. “Don’t worry … I’ll be joining you shortly.”

  Then I remembered that she probably didn’t want me around anyway.

  Figures. I deserve it.

  I wept silently, waiting for it all to end.

  Suddenly, the cell door opened and a single black-robed figure stepped inside.

  “It’s time.”

  My eyes popped open at that voice—I knew that voice.

  It can’t be …

  I lifted my head to look at the man’s face. I knew him.

  “Timor?”

  CHAPTER 12

  There was no mistake. Lack of water and nutrition was making everything hazy, made forming thoughts a chore. But still, I knew it was him.

  The question was …

  “Why?” I whispered.

  “Why what?” Timor asked.

  “Why are you working for him?”

  Timor was quiet for a moment. “Him … Sirak?”

  I nodded.

  The young apprentice sighed and waved his hand in front of him. As he did, my restraints opened and I fell to the floor in a heap.

  He knelt down by my head. “You know, my failure in Delmar is quite enough for me to deal with. But the matter of your lack of trust in me is an annoyance I’m not prepared to concern myself with right now.”

  He stood up. “Come on—we don’t have much time.”

  So he was here to help me. I don’t know why I thought otherwise, but he was very bitter after Delmar, then his disappearance, then his dilemma with the mages—turning sides and working for the enemy was the first thing that came to my exhausted mind.

  Not to mention I’d barely eaten anything, drank anything, or slept in what felt like an eternity. To say my mind was a jumbled mess was a gross understatement.

  There was a shuffling noise next to him. I looked up and saw Aurora materialize out of thin air, having just pulled the ring of invisibility from her finger. There was the slightest bit of fear in her eyes, but they were as wide and alert as ever.

  Timor grinned slightly. “Yes, Aidan. We’re here to dig you out of this mess. At least, those were the words Derrick used. I don’t know why he thought there’d be any digging involved …”

  He shrugged and went on, as I was clearly too tired to respond to his endearing lack of sarcasm understanding. “Iskandor and the White Army are outside the gates right now, providing a distraction. Time is short—let us escape while we can.”

  “The White Army?” I asked incredulously. “They’re going to get slaughtered!”

  “They’re staging a feint attack,” Timor responded. “Just long enough to get Sirak’s attention. Once we achieve our freedom, they retreat. Quickly, put on one of the cultist’s robes.” He tossed one to me.

  My mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened in the past few moments. It took a moment for me to respond to Timor’s command.

  “Aidan, quickly!” Timor whispered harshl
y.

  Finally realizing what was truly happening, I did as I was told. When I turned around, Timor was handing me my swords. I was almost too weak to hold them.

  “You two, stay behind me,” Timor said in a low voice.

  We followed the young apprentice as he turned left out of the room and walked cautiously toward the end of the hall. Weakened, I had trouble keeping up. At the end, there was a set of stairs going up. There didn’t seem to be anybody in sight—all of the Ther-lor must have answered Sirak’s call when they found the White Army outside the walls.

  At the top of the stairs, Timor turned right through a doorway. I collapsed on a wall near a window, and I peeked out to see a glimpse of the White Army outside the walls, and Iskandor flying this way and that. Delmar’s army was settled in a small valley in between some rocky terrain—from a strategy standpoint, they had a small advantage in the narrow area, but the numbers were still severely against them. The Ther-lor were gathering on the walls, some manning the dragon-slaying equipment.

  “There’s another set of stairs that leads to a room with a balcony,” Timor whispered. “Once there, I will give Iskandor the signal. We must hurry—he will have a much more difficult time extricating us if they’re firing giant ballistae at him.”

  Just as he turned to start walking, three Ther-lor appeared at the other end of the corridor. They immediately drew their weapons and charged. Aurora acted immediately, stepping forward and throwing her hand out toward them. The Ther-lor froze in their tracks, lowering their weapons, and then they just stood there. There was no sign of confusion or anything on their face—they just stared at us blankly.

  Then they turned and walked the other way.

  I couldn’t help but be impressed—Aurora’s powers were proving to be very useful.

  “Let’s go!” Timor said.

  We reached the stairs and ascended quickly, entering a room that was clearly one of royalty. The décor was spacious and magnificent. We crossed the room and burst out onto the balcony.

  “There he is!” I called to Timor, though not too loudly.

  The young wizard didn’t waste any time. As soon as he was on the balcony, he raised his hand toward the sky, and a beam of light shot from it to the heavens. Iskandor saw the signal instantly and turned to fly toward us.

  Sirak, who was standing on the wall, also saw the signal. Even at that distance, it was clear he was outraged. He shot a bolt of lightning in our direction.

  “Look out!” I yelled, instinctively grabbing Aurora as we all dropped to avoid the bolt. It crashed into the wall behind us, sending bits of stone flying everywhere.

  The Ther-lor manning the dragon-slaying equipment were turning their weapons toward Iskandor as he flew past, but it was a slow effort with the weapons being so large. The dragon was there before we knew it, and he grabbed me in one claw and Timor and Aurora with the other.

  Iskandor didn’t waste time with words—as soon as he had us, he turned and flew, just as a hail of arrows soared in our direction. The ones that hit Iskandor bounced off him harmlessly, his scaled hide too thick. Timor cast a shield spell in front of him, saving him and Aurora from danger.

  Before I knew it, we were over the walls just above the White Army. I could see King Baladir himself below, leading the army.

  And then Iskandor roared in pain.

  I looked up at the dragon’s right wing, and saw that a missile from one of the ballistae had torn through it, leaving a hole about the size of a wagon wheel. Clearly in an obscene amount of pain, Iskandor moaned and grunted as he tried with all his might to keep himself in the air.

  But we were slowly descending.

  I took a look back at Min Lenoras and saw that we would be out of the Ther-lor’s reach once we landed. Iskandor was making every effort to make as soft a landing as possible, but it was clear it was causing him intense pain.

  Finally, when we were close enough to the ground, Iskandor let us go, and all three of us landed safely. The dragon then pushed himself a little harder, flying twenty more feet along the ground before he finally collapsed. Timor and Aurora immediately rushed to his aid.

  I looked at my friend, heartbroken that he was in such agony, all to save me. I looked back at the White Army, retreating but suffering heavy casualties under the onslaught of the Ther-lor. All to save me.

  Whatever I am …

  It was too much—too much sacrifice, too much loss, too much pain and confusion because even I didn’t know what I was anymore.

  I couldn’t take it.

  I couldn’t help Iskandor, but I could help the White Army. Desperation and rage fueling my body, I ran toward the battle, my pain and anger and emotions welling up inside me, threatening to reach the boiling point. I could feel my powers surging, the powers I detested so passionately.

  But in this case, they were all I had.

  I still had a distance to travel, but it didn’t matter. With my enhanced speed and jumping ability, I sprung off of a giant boulder, flying high in the air toward the battle line. The White Army was still trying in vain to retreat—the Ther-lor were relentless.

  I was about to even the odds just a little.

  Screaming in fury, I landed a few ranks into the Ther-lor army. As I did, a thunderous burst of energy exploded from my body, sending scores of Sirak’s forces flying backward. My mind was not functioning properly at this point—I was consumed with rage, with grief, with the knowledge that I didn’t belong anywhere.

  The burst of raw energy sent tremors along the ground, and could hear the rock along the steep slopes on both sides of me shaking violently.

  “Rockslide!” I heard Delmar soldiers yelling behind me.

  Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind where it was still functioning properly, an idea formed. I leaped over the front rank of the Ther-lor and landed in front of the White Army.

  “Get back!” I yelled, waving my arms toward them. “Get back! Retreat!”

  The soldiers began to obey, and I turned my attention back to the Ther-lor, still relentless in their pursuit. Summoning what I had left of my energy, I shot the strongest telekinetic bolts I could muster toward the rocky slopes on both sides of the White Army. The impact loosened the rocks more, and they began to fall.

  In the distance, I could see Sirak yelling and screaming furiously at his creations from atop the walls of the Dark Citadel.

  Better luck next time, your Lordship.

  Boulders began to crash into place, sealing the narrow passageway and holding back the Ther-lor.

  The last thing I remember was overwhelming exhaustion, and then darkness.

  ***

  I came to with rough hands shaking me violently.

  “Aidan? Aidan? Come on, buddy, stay with me!”

  Derrick. I was so happy to hear his voice I wanted to cry. However …

  “Stop shaking me,” I mumbled, opening my eyes. “I’m … very delicate, you know.”

  Derrick exhaled in relief. “The only time you’re delicate is when you set off a tremor so violent it causes a rockslide.”

  I just shrugged lightly. I tried to move, but there was no strength in my body. Most of my companions were standing over me, even King Baladir.

  But someone was missing.

  “Iskandor?”

  “He’s in pain, but doing okay,” Derrick answered. “Timor and Aurora are tending to him. They have some people out looking for … Jewelweed or something like that.”

  I nodded. I wanted to go to my dragon friend, but my body wouldn’t allow it.

  My next thought was, Mirabelle … Longchester …

  I tried even harder to get up, but still my body wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Hey, rest easy, buddy,” Derrick said, lightly setting me back down. “We’re safe now.”

  “Mirabelle,” I breathed. “She’s in Longchester.”

  Derrick nodded. “I know.”

  I frowned in wonder at him. “How?”

  “The pixie and brownies were sti
ll out scouting. They came back a couple days after you left and reported that they saw her there. She’s still alive, Aidan.”

  With that one sentence, hope flooded through my system. “Is she hurt?”

  “She doesn’t appear to be,” Derrick answered. “Marion always keeps her by his side. Ceiridwen said that it’s like he’s forcing her to watch the death of her city every day.”

  That miserable bastard …

  “We’ll have someone else to contend with there,” I stated, my voice low.

  “Who?”

  “Our good buddy Norvin,” I growled, contempt dripping from my voice.

  Derrick gave me a look that silently said, Are you kidding me?

  I finally pulled myself up and walked over to where Timor was tending to Iskandor. The dragon was hissing in pain as Timor applied some kind of salve to his injured wing. My heart sunk to my stomach as I saw how much agony he was in … all for saving me.

  Again.

  I put my hand on the side of his face. “Are you okay, my friend?”

  The dragon groaned as Timor applied more salve. “Never better.”

  I smiled at his sarcastic remark. “I am in your debt again.”

  Iskandor smiled back. “You are never in my debt. Are you okay?”

  I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him what I learned in the Dark Citadel. But deep down, I knew he would find out anyway, so …

  “Sirak tried to turn me into a Ther-lor.”

  Shocked faces all around me. “What happened?” Timor asked, clearly intrigued.

  I looked down at the ground as I spoke. “It didn’t work. The ritual only works on dwarves, elves … and humans.”

  Timor understood immediately, but Derrick wasn’t so quick. “But you’re—”

  “No, I’m not,” I said, cutting him off.

  Looking at Iskandor, I swear I could almost see his heart breaking.

  “My friend,” I said, “don’t. It can’t be changed.”

  The dragon remained silent.

  “Mirabelle’s in Longchester,” I said, changing the subject. “I’m going after her.”

  Derrick started to speak, but I cut him off again. “Yes, yes, I know … everybody’s coming with me, no matter what I say.”