Blood of the Sorcerer

by B. C. Morin

  Evyette watched Samil from the corner of her eye, waiting for his ghostly form to become less transparent. It was only when they were nearing the home of the Dorchae that she realized that his use of magic depleted what little form he had.

  “What’s the matter, Samil? Spent too much of your power? Such a shame.” She said with a click of her tongue.

  Samil laughed in his throat.

  “Nice of you to be concerned, but worry not. You will be helping me with my next bit of magic.”

  “Like hell I will!” She yelled at him, her voice echoing through the mountainside.

  “The irony of most of your statements to me is so amusing.” He chuckled deep in his throat.

  The entrance to the caverns where the Dorchae live was covered by hedges and boulder that had to be moved by a Dorchae or by magic for someone who did not have the Dorchae’s brute strength.

  Their steps echoed through the labyrinth of hallways until they came upon a large wooden door, rounded at the top. She knew instantly that this must have been Samil’s room.

  “I will prepare everything. Maligo, take her to the empty room at the end of the hallway and see that she does not escape.”

  Maligo lifted his hand to grab her arm, but dropped it back to his side quickly when she began to walk. He continued stealing glances at her as she walked one step ahead of him, not truly knowing where she was going. Evyette glanced over her shoulder at him, wondering why he continued to look at her.

  As they reached the end of the hallway, Maligo took the lead and stopped in front of an old wooden door that was too large for its opening, as it scraped against the ceiling, causing a dust cloud to fall over them.

  “There will be a guard here shortly.” He said over his shoulder as he walked in before her.

  Evyette walked in to the dark warm room, lit only by the candelabra hanging on the wall just outside the door. There was an uncomfortable seat fashioned out of stone along one of the walls. She strode over, dropping herself harshly onto the hard bench, looking up to find Maligo stealing another glance.

  “What?” She said, her arms folded in front of her and her jaw set.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head and turned to walk out of the room.

  “You have been looking at me strangely since you and your associate blew up half the mountainside and an innocent fae in search of me.” She leaned back against the wall.

  Maligo smoothed his hand over his beard that fell to a point in the middle of his chest. His dark eyes searched her. Not regarding her as a prisoner or a prize, but as someone he knew. Someone he had lost. Evyette opened her mouth to say something but was stopped by the immense sadness she saw in him.

  “You look like someone I knew. It was a long time ago.”

  Evyette stood, walking closer to him, the shadows from the candles deepening the lines on his face. She assumed him to have been beautiful once, but he had lines around his eyes, and his skin was not as tight and smooth as some of the older faeries that she knew.

  “Did you know her before you betrayed my father and were banished from Meira?”

  Maligo’s face hardened.

  “Before I was stripped of my powers, yes.” He said through clenched teeth. “It is your father’s fault that I look the way I do and am weakened so quickly by the use of magic.”

  Evyette’s brow furrowed.

  “How dare you!” She dropped her arms to her sides. “You tried to overthrow him and you blame him for your punishment? You earned your banishment, you earned the excision of your powers.”

  He sneered at her.

  “You have no idea what you are talking about, or what I could have accomplished being on the throne.” Maligo’s voice echoed through the enclosed space.

  “My father runs the Kingdom exceptionally, and I doubt you could do half as well as he! You were greedy. You were not happy with what you had so you had to take from someone else.”

  Maligo squinted his eyes at her, striking so much fear in her that she took a step back.

  “You even sound like her.” He walked closer to her but instead of stopping in front of her, he began walking around her. “It cannot be.” After circling her he stopped no more than two feet in front of her. “You have been on a quest regarding your past have you not?”

  Evyette folded her arms in front of her again.

  “Perhaps I was. What is it to you?”

  “Did you find out who your mother is?”

  “Was.”

  Maligo’s eyes widened as he lunged himself at Evyette grabbing her by the shoulders. “Was? Who was your mother?”

  Evyette squirmed but his grip only tightened. “What does it matter to you?”

  He shook her violently.

  “Your mother!” he yelled, “What was her name?”

  “You are hurting me, release me!” Evyette opened her mouth to conjure a spell, but Maligo cut her off.

  “Veritas!” he yelled at her, the echo of the truth spell surrounding her.

  “Olivia!” Evyette yelled at him, finally yanking her arms free from his grasp and bringing them up to her mouth as if she had not meant to reveal her name.

  “No.” Maligo stumbled back, whispering to himself. “Was.” He repeated, “She is gone.” He shook his head in disbelief, before meeting Evyette’s confused gaze. “What did you find out about her?”

  She clenched her jaw but the effects of the truth spell worked its way through her forcing her jaw to open and her tongue to move.

  “She had me in Caelestis. She sacrificed herself for me because I was born with a Mark on my soul promising me to the Venator Animus. Because it was not her line that offered me, the sacrifice did not remove the Mark, but it bought me some time.” As soon as she stopped talking she clenched her teeth tight hoping he would not ask any more questions and wondering when the spell would wear off.

  “What of your father, then?” Maligo’s sadness turning to hurt and intrigue.

  “I do not know.” Her mouth forced open again, but those were the only words that stumbled out.

  Maligo sneered.

  “Must ask the right questions.” He mumbled to himself, considering the strict restrictions of the spell. “What did you find out about your father?”

  Evyette turned from him, placing her hands on her face trying to keep her mouth from opening, but it was to no avail.

  “Very little.” She turned to face him again, the words spewing forth like an uncontrollable waterfall. “Dara was just telling me-“

  “Dara?” Maligo cut her off. “There is no doubt, then.” He said lowly.

  “No doubt about what?”

  “Your father.” He said quickly, not allowing her to change the subject. “What do you know of him?”

  Evyette gave up on clenching her jaw feeling the spell creep up inside her like a writhing snake trying to escape.

  “My Sire,” She could not bear to call the man who cared more about his plan than her mother, her father, “is still unknown. All I know is that my mother loved him. She would have given the world to him. But he believed he was not worthy of her.” Evyette gulped down the nausea sitting in her throat, hating that after discovering all these deeply personal secrets of her past, she had to divulge them to Maligo. “He became obsessed with some plan of his to gain power, driving her away. She wanted to have a life with him, tell him of the child growing in her belly, but all he would go on about was his ridiculous plan, his unquenchable new thirst for power. So she left him. For the safety of the two of us.”

  Maligo’s eyes were wide and his jaw was slack. There were waves of emotion that crossed his face in succession.

  “Why do you want to know all this? How do you know of my mother? Of Dar-“ The final word dropped of her lips like lead. “No.” She pulled her hands up to her mouth. Whether refusing to divulge more, or holding in her new found revelation, she was unsure. Evyette searched his face again remembering her earlier thoughts about how he must have been beautiful once, Dara’s words ech
oing in her mind. ‘He was handsome and kind, long blonde hair, and his words, sweet as nectar to her.’ Her eyes traveled to his long white hair and only now did she notice the yellow tinge.

  They stood in silence for an eternity. Neither wanting to say out loud what was plain to see.

  The silence was broken by the heavy footsteps of the Dorchae that approached with Samil.

  “Well, well, what goes on here ?”

  Maligo stiffened, turning to Samil.

  “You.” His eyes stared into Samil like daggers. “You knew.” He growled.

  Samil let out a throaty laugh.

  “Of course I knew, you contemptuous old fool.” Samil did not back down, motioning for the Dorchae to step closer so that he stood in between them. “You are weak. Your revenge on the fae was not solely because they stole your powers, but because you were broken.” Samil clutched his hands over where his heart would be, mocking Maligo. “You may have convinced yourself that it was all over revenge for the loss of powers, but you have harbored nothing but anger and regret at the loss of your precious Olivia.

  Evyette watched as Maligo glanced over at her, giving a look she had never seen. Perhaps apologetic?

  “If you knew that Evyette was your daughter, you may not have gone through with this plan. I would not have been able to make you read the second scroll, making me stronger, and bringing me closer to the domination of the fae.”

  Daughter. There was the word that neither of them could say out loud.

  Samil glanced at both of them. “Even now, I can see your weakness. But this changes nothing. You have two choices, you can continue on with our plan, or you can die along with her. I am sure that the Venator Animus would gladly welcome another soul for my promise.”

  “You did it!” Evyette stepped forward but if by instinct, or new found courage, she wasn’t sure, Maligo put out his arm stopping her, then moving to stand nearly in front of her. “You Marked me. You offered me up to them.”

  “Well, in my defense,” He began, his voice back to a soft tone, not comforting, just soft, as if easing you into an unavoidable death. “It could have been him as well. I offered a soul. Who the Venator Animus picked was beyond my control.” Samil tugged at the edge of his sleeves, oblivious to the emotional reckoning occurring around him. “It matters not now.” His eyes shifting constantly from Maligo to Evyette. “You will help me find the final scroll, and dependent on your behavior, one of you may live to rule beside me over the fae people.” Samil turned on his heel, calling over his shoulder to the Dorchae behind him. “Bring her.”

  The Dorchae lunged forward shoving Maligo out of their way, each grabbing one of her arms and leading her out the door.

  When they arrived at Samil’s room, the Dorchae had to pull Evyette in as she was at a dead stop. She took in the sight before her cautiously. There were candles all around the room lending a sinister glow to Samil’s form. The room was bare in the same manner as the one she had just returned from with only a stone bench lining one wall, though there was a pentacle drawn onto the floor, with several small skull heads and spines atop stands. The Dorchae threw Evyette forward, causing her to trip on the uneven stone floor and landing almost in the center of the pentacle.

  Evyette turned to step out, but Samil rushed in front of her, his spirit form allowing him to move faster than she would like.

  “You may as well stay there.” Samil looked around the room as if checking off the tasks he had already done in his head. “You will need to be in there for this to work.”

  She felt the hairs on her arms stand on end as she looked at the pentacle around her. It was almost as if the darkness that it represented swirled around her, waiting to pounce. Evyette tried to slow her breathing but it was to no avail. Anxiety was building and there was no stopping it from boiling over. She watched as Maligo stood in the doorway analyzing the scene before him before entering and setting his eyes upon his daughter.

  “What is going on here, Samil?” Maligo folded his arms across his chest, his glowing staff lighting his face from behind, giving him a blue-ish glow.

  “You do not need to be here for this. Her powers will be enough.”

  Maligo steadied his gaze on Samil now.

  “Enough for what?” His voice shook a bit as he finished.

  Evyette turned to Samil, hanging on the answer as well.

  “It appears that there is some sort of interference with me hearing from the spirits that are to lead me to the third scroll.” Samil looked at Evyette, raising an eyebrow. “No doubt the work of your friends and your cousin.” Samil stepped carefully into the Pentacle, his form becoming solid for a few moments as he grasped her by the forearm. “This, however, will aid me in communicating with them.” He looked back at Maligo, ignoring the frightened stare Evyette gave. “Your daughter,” there was that word again, “is a direct line to the dark spirits. I intend to fully exploit her abilities.” He dropped her hand so that it hung at her side again and he took his ghostly form again. “I cannot waste time that is not on my side.” Samil followed Maligo’s concerned gaze. “You may stay if you wish. But if you get in my way, I will kill you both.”

  Maligo stepped back to a corner of the room, the light in his staff flickering as he drew some of the power from within it.

  Samil took his flesh form once again as he walked over to the stone bench, grasping a long dagger that gleamed in the candlelight. The hilt was made of gold and an emerald sat at the base. The dagger was almost as long as Evyette’s forearm and curved at the end. She heard him mumbling under his breath and though she could not decipher the language, she knew it was a communication between him and the demons he was calling upon. The candles in the room began to flicker to the point of almost turning out, save for the two behind her that began to blaze.

  She watched him inch closer, his voice still low and mumbling, the dagger in his hand firmly gripped. Evyette tried to move her feet but could not.

  Samil saw her attempt and chuckled under his breath.

  “You are now bound to that circle.”

  Evyette saw Maligo take a step forward out of the corner of her eye.

  Samil stepped so close that his breath, reeking of sulfur caused her eyes to water.

  “You know what this is for, do you not?”

  Because she could not move, Evyette decided to defy him in any other way possible, and said nothing.

  “I see. Well, I will explain it to you.” He walked around to her back, dragging the dagger lightly along her arm. “When dealing with demons and dark spirits, there must always be a blood sacrifice.”

  Evyette kept her gaze on the wall in front of her. She could feel him standing dangerously close as he pulled her hair off of her shoulder and onto her back, revealing her ear.

  “I do not need much.” He whispered in her ear.

  She could feel him smiling through his words.

  He dragged the dagger back down her arm.

  “I just have to be sure that I cut you in a place that you will not bleed to death, because you will not be able to recite a healing spell. You see, the same incantation I used to bind you to the circle, binds you to me. You will not do anything unless directed to do so by me or unless the ritual has finished.”

  Evyette was appalled, she could think of nothing worse than being at the mercy of this madfae, but she did not react. He body was stiff and her gaze set in front of her, determined to fight this as much as she could.

  “Let us begin.” On his last word, he dragged the blade across her arm just beneath the Mark that Dara had given her.

  Samil began chanting beneath his breath and as the droplets of blood dripped off her hand and onto the pentacle, the ground beneath her began to shake. Smoke began to rise from each end of the pentacle, as Samil walked around her so that he faced her.

  Evyette watched, stunned. The longer he chanted, the darker his eyes became until they were completely black. The shadow Mark on her arm burned as hot. Feeling as though she had put her
arm in a blazing fire, she looked down but only noticed that her Mark had darkened.

  “Call on them.” Samil whispered, his black eyes fixed on her.

  “No.” Evyette responded through clenched teeth. The invisible flames on her arm were working their way up to her shoulder and chest.

  “Call them now!” Samil yelled at her and began chanting once again.

  As soon as his chanting began, thoughts of the shadows came to her mind and though she did not voice it, she called them in her thoughts. It was as if a black fog had entered her mind consuming everything in its path. She tried pushing against it, reaching desperately for the memory of her mental battle against the Magister, but it only delayed him for a moment. He pushed harder, and the chant echoed as if a legion of demons stood behind him, helping. Evyette pictured a white plane with white clouds pushing against his darkness, but the shadows crept slowly into her white world.

  Sometime during the fight she felt herself drop to her knees, the invisible flames consuming her entire body and a new pain radiated from her ankles. It seemed her feet were connected to the ground and refused to move. Faintly, a voice slipped through the darkness but the words it said were muffled. Evyette could see the dark fog in her mind taking form. It was a huge, hideous mass with horns that curled at the top of its head, with ragged decrepit faerie wings rising out of its back, slanted red eyes, with armor like skin, and spikes along its two tails. She realized then that this must have been Samil’s true demon form. The chanting became louder within her mind as he called to the shadows.

  “Command them to show me.” This voice was different than the one that had been chanting. It was multiplied.

  In her thoughts, she did as she was told. The demon leaned forward, stretching his claws toward her white space, consuming it through his fingertips. A searing pain began to fester along the edges of her Mark as if someone was cutting her. She tried to open her eyes but could not, she was locked in her thoughts. The darkness was overtaking her completely as she felt her form fall completely to the floor. Screams began filtering through the darkness, enraging the demon. Once he had consumed all the thoughts of the shadows and taken them for himself, the demon flashed as sinister smile, revealing endless rows of sharpened teeth.