The Immortal Mystic (Book 5)

by Sam Ferguson

  Salarion frowned and looked from the egg to the necromancer, and then back to the altar. “You seek to fuse Tu’luh’s spirit with the hatchling?”

  Gilifan sneered wickedly and offered a slight nod of his head. “That is why I like you. You don’t need things explained. You always understand what is happening.” It was then that Gilifan’s eyes found the book she held in her hands. His sneer turned to a wide smile of joy and surprise, as if he was a young boy getting a gift on his birthday. He held his hands out and nearly ran to her. “Give it to me!” he exclaimed.

  Salarion hesitated. She almost moved to hold the book back from him, but at the last moment she forced her hands up and delivered the book to him. The necromancer snatched it from her grasp and pressed it to his forehead before opening the front cover. Delicately he ran a hand over the first page, smiling and nearly giggling with elation.

  “Where did you find it?” he asked. His eyes swung up to her. “Where was it?”

  “In Tualdern,” she said.

  “Ha!” he shouted. “All this time the book was right there where it all began! Remarkable. Your father would have appreciated the irony, I am sure.”

  “Speaking of my father,” Salarion said. She held out her left hand.

  “Ah, yes,” Gilifan said with a nod. “Your payment.” He bent down and lifted the hem of his robes to reveal a small box fastened to his right ankle. The box was made of onyx, and glowed with a faint violet hue. “You sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked. “He could be a great ally.”

  Salarion took the onyx box and shook her head. “It is time to let my father’s spirit free.”

  “He would be free if I raised him from the dead,” Gilifan said with a slight grin.

  Salarion stuffed the small box, no bigger than a ring box, into her left pocket. “No,” she said.

  Gilifan wagged a finger at her. “You just don’t want to share the glory with him when the master rises again, is that it?” He then turned to the book in his hands and shook his head as he turned another page and smiled wide. “I suppose I would do the same in your place. Let the Sierri’Tai look to you as their new master, and let Nagar’s soul fade to the annals of history.” He then leaned in and kissed her upon the cheek. His foul breath lingering in the air longer than the moistness from his lips upon her skin. The gesture took Salarion by surprise and she stiffened considerably until Gilifan started walking back toward the altar.

  “Our deal is complete then?” she asked.

  Gilifan waved her off. “Yes, yes, we are quite finished. Come back in a while, and you shall witness the rebirth of our master.” He stopped then and turned around to regard her once more. He held the book up, still grinning ear to ear. “You shall be a legend all of your own. You are the heroine who found the book, when no one else could.”

  Salarion offered a slight bow of her head and then turned to leave. Bergarax followed her out to the iron gate.

  *****

  Gilifan flipped through the pages of the book after the dark elf left. He could feel the power of the book reaching out to him, calling to him, beckoning him to unleash it. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes as if caught in the deep kiss of a lover.

  “It seems you have what you wanted,” a voice called out.

  Gilifan startled. His eyes popped open and he defensively clutched the book closer to his chest. Between him and the egg stood a dark skinned man dressed in simple twill pants and a white tunic with red embroidery around the collar. Even before Gilifan locked with Dremathor’s deep, brown eyes he recognized the shadowfiend at the sight of his green velvet shoes with long, up curled toes.

  “Dremathor, you dare show your face now, after such a long absence?” Gilifan raised his hand and collected a ball of dark matter. Instead of glowing, it sucked light from the cavern and grew wisps of tendril-like smoke from all sides.

  Dremathor held up his left hand and pulled a small, wooden box from behind his back. “I have not come to fight you, Gilifan. I have come to make a trade.”

  “I don’t want to trade, I want your soul.” Gilifan moved in a step, careful to place Nagar’s book upon the altar next to one of the dead bodies.

  “I have your amulet, here in this box,” Dremathor said. He opened the lid and tilted the box for Gilifan to see.

  Gilifan’s eyes widened and he narrowed his eyes on Dremathor. “How did you come by this?”

  “I put a spell upon the box,” Dremathor said, ignoring Gilifan’s inquiry. “If you kill me, or even attack me, before I exit this cave and return to my domain, the box will explode and the amulet will shatter. The only way you get it back is by granting my freedom.”

  “You dog!” Gilifan snarled. “First, you turn your back upon the Black Fang Council, and now you wish to be released from your pact. Who was it who gave you your first taste of power? Who was it that made you who you are today?” Gilifan moved his arm as if to release his spell but Dremathor closed the box and let it hover in the air. An orange glow encircled the wooden box and the lid sealed shut.

  “It will open only once I am safely back in my tower,” Dremathor said.

  “Why should I allow this?” Gilifan asked. “I would profit much by invoking the curse.” He glanced to the dark orb in his hand. “When you joined the council, you gave me control over you by giving me your true name. I have only to speak it and send this orb to touch you, and you will die.”

  “You will lose the amulet,” Dremathor pointed out.

  “But the master is close to being resurrected,” Gilifan countered. “I also have the book. I don’t need to raise an army of the undead to find it. Now I can bend the living to my will, including you!”

  Dremathor shook his head. “I want out.” He backed away from the floating box and held his hands out to the side. “The choice is yours, Gilifan. Do what you will.”

  Gilifan stood silently for a moment. He glanced to the floating box and then back to Dremathor. “So, I trade your freedom for the amulet, and that is it?” he asked.

  Dremathor nodded. “I also want immunity from the book. Grant immunity to my soul, living dead, or otherwise, so that I will not be controlled.”

  “Then I will take away your powers,” Gilifan countered. “I will leave you only with the ability to use your powers to teleport. Everything else you offer to me as a sacrifice so I can give it to the master. Do this, and I will agree to the bargain.”

  Dremathor looked to the egg and cocked his head to the side. “You would take everything?” he asked.

  “You promised to uphold the council, and you disappeared for decades!” Gilifan shouted as he pointed a finger at him. “The only way you live is if I get the amulet and your powers.”

  “Dremathor sighed. “I give you the amulet, and all of my powers except for my ability to teleport, and you will return to me the knowledge of my true name, release me from the pact of the Black Fang Council, and you will grant my soul, living, dead, or otherwise, immunity from Nagar’s magic?”

  “Those are the terms, Dremathor,” Gilifan said.

  Dremathor held his left hand out, palm up, and then drew an ‘X’ across his palm with his right index finger. “I, Dremathor, do here solemnly swear and promise that I will now grant to Gilifan the key to unlocking the box which holds his amulet, and all of my magical powers and abilities save my ability to teleport and travel to places known unto me, in return for pardon from all covenants and pacts made when I joined the Black Fang Council, and immunity granted to my soul, living, dead, or otherwise, from Nagar’s blight, which is contained in the book commonly called Nagar’s Secret. Additionally, Gilifan shall return to me the knowledge of my true name, which I gave to him as a condition of joining the Black Fang Council. Upon my life so do I swear.”

  The lines in his palm glowed brighter until red light streamed up from them, swirling into a golden ball that hovered over his palm. Then he looked to Gilifan.

  Gilifan glanced to the floating box and smiled wide. He suspended the o
rb of dark matter above him and then made a similar mark in his left palm with his right index finger. “I, Gilifan, do here solemnly swear and promise that I will grant to Dremathor the return of the knowledge of his true name, so that I no longer remember it nor can have power to call upon it from this moment forth. I also offer to Dremathor freedom and exoneration from all oaths and pacts entered into when he joined the Black Fang Council and shall grant him herewith immunity for his soul, whether living, dead, or otherwise, from all powers contained in Nagar’s Secret. These are the things I offer, irrevocably and upon my very life, in return for the key to the box that holds my amulet, and the reversion directly to me of all of Dremathor’s powers and magical abilities, save for his ability to teleport and travel to places known to him. Thus it is agreed.”

  Nagar’s light grew up from his hand to form a ball of green. The two orbs rose up from each person to meet between them. Lightning and fire shot out from each of them as the two balls merged into one, brightly shining ball of blue fire. For an instant, all of the light in the chamber was gone save for that of the magical oath. Then the ball faded away and the light in the cavern returned.

  Dremathor coughed and fell to his knees. His body trembled and shook. Sweat dripped from his face and he struggled to keep from collapsing. Gilifan walked in closer and smiled as he held out his hands and felt the power flowing to him. He quickly cast a spell to trap the energies outside of his body, so as not to absorb any energy meant to be sacrificed to the master. A great, silvery mist floated in the air above him.

  “The master thanks you for your sacrifice,” Gilifan said half-heartedly as he turned and directed the power to the egg. The mist absorbed through the shell, accompanied by a low frequency humming until it was all gone.

  Dremathor stood up with great struggle and gestured to the box. “The amulet is yours again, it will open as soon as I am back within the confines of my tower.”

  Gilifan turned and nodded. “Then it is best you go,” he said. “Now that I have offered your strength to the master, it is a great temptation to kill you and forego the amulet.”

  Dremathor smirked. “Still the same Gilifan,” he said. “Will you never change?”

  Gilifan shook his head. “I will be the ruler of all,” he said. “I will sit with the master upon a throne that governs a new world. A world where I shall also have conquered death, and will reign for an eternity.” Gilifan smiled. “I shall become as the old gods.”

  Dremathor said nothing. He turned and left, disappearing into the air.

  “I shall become as the old gods,” Gilifan repeated to himself as he smiled wide.

  *****

  Dremathor materialized in a small thicket of trees to the east of Pinkt’Hu.

  Salarion rose up from a gray stone and went to him, steadying him with her hands. “Did he agree to everything?” she asked.

  Dremathor nodded. “Do you have the obsidian vial?” he asked her.

  Salarion smiled and slipped her hand down to remove the dark vial from a pouch sewn on the inside of her trousers. “I have it here,” she said. “Shall we go and see if Njar has succeeded in his task?”

  Dremathor took the oobsidian vial from Salarion and held it tightly in his fist. “I don’t think I have the strength to take you with me,” he admitted. “I am weaker now than I was before I joined the council.”

  Salarion drew her brow in together and looked the man over. She shook her head in disbelief and pushed away from him. “How much of your power did you give him?” she asked. “I thought the plan was to give him only the powers you absorbed after joining the council.”

  Dremathor nodded and reached up to grasp her shoulders. “He demanded everything,” he said soberly. “I had to give him everything except the ability to transport myself.”

  “So then how will you transfer the immunity? Did he give it to you?”

  Dremathor nodded. “I have it,” he said.

  “How will you transfer it?” she repeated. “Njar cannot work that kind of magic and Aparen is nowhere near strong enough to do it for you.”

  Dremathor looked to her with a tear in his eye. “Sometimes, sacrifices must be made,” he said.

  Salarion closed her eyes and bowed her head. She pulled him in close for one last embrace. “There was a time when I would have hunted you and slain you with my own blade,” she said in a whisper.

  “I know,” Dremathor said.

  She pushed away, letting their hands fall to grasp each other around the elbows. “I am glad that Njar was able to prevent our first meeting, and alter the destinies given to us by the fates.”

  Dremathor nodded. “The old goat can be very convincing,” Dremathor said. “Did you know that it was him who gave my father the idea of looking for a counter magic to Nagar’s Secret? Without his actions, the outcome of the battle at Hamath Valley may very well have been very different.

  Salarion nodded. “That is why he stopped me when I was on my way to find you,” she said. “He told me that even though you had fought against your father, there was still enough good in you to save you, and possibly help turn the tide against Tu’luh.” She looked down and squeezed his elbows. “It took quite a bit of convincing, but eventually I learned to trust his judgment.”

  “As did I,” Dremathor said. “He spent many years visiting me in my dreams, bending my will and trying to curb my appetite for power. If not for him, I would still be following Tu’luh.”

  “Do you remember when we first met?” Salarion asked.

  Dremathor nodded. “You came along with that young sorceress, what was her name again?”

  “Dimwater,” Salarion said. The dark elf smiled wide. “I guess Njar makes a habit of rescuing tainted souls from self-destruction.”

  Dremathor sniggered and nodded. “Had I know you had come to steal away my son, I might have killed you.”

  Salarion reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “You were still fighting against Njar,” she said. “Even after almost five hundred years you were still slow to see the light. We saw the chance was in you for good, but there was still a very real danger that you would taint your son.”

  “You did a good job of hiding him,” Dremathor said.

  “You should be proud of him,” Salarion offered. “I saw him. He is good, much better than any of us. He has the potential to stop Tu’luh. He has already slain him once.”

  Dremathor arched a brow and looked at her quizzically. “You met him again?” he asked.

  “He and I crossed paths a couple of times. He has grown strong, and is committed to the right cause.”

  A tear fell from Dremathor’s right eye. “So you succeeded in saving him, then?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, he isn’t like me, is he?”

  “Njar sent us to take him from you for that very reason. He never gave me or Dimwater the full explanation, but he said that to leave the boy with you would place many people in grave danger and have the potential to destroy the balance in the realm.”

  “Where did you take him?” Dremathor pressed. “I searched for years, and could never uncover where he was. It took Njar a decade before I agreed to give up the search, but by that time I had finally come around to seeing things the way Njar does.” Dremathor shook his head with a sly, appreciative smile. “As I said, the old goat can be very persuasive.” He then looked back to Salarion’s big eyes and asked her where she had taken his boy.

  Salarion pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed Dremathor on the cheek. “I swore never to divulge any information about that,” she said. “Besides, it matters little how we shielded him from you. Just know that it worked. You have left a good legacy.” Her hand softly caressed his cheek and moved down to hover over his heart. “You should also be proud of yourself,” she said. “It took some time, but the sacrifice you are making now will erase the things you have done in the past. No one will remember Dremathor the tyrant. They will remember you.” She poked her finger into his chest to emphasize her point. “They will remembe
r the real you. The man who gave up everything, for the hope of saving others.”

  “I should go,” Dremathor said. “If we should be discovered, I have no magic to protect us. I have to get the vial to Aparen and Njar.”

  “Then go,” Salarion said as she pushed away from him. “You have become a brother to me,” she offered as she waved.

  Dremathor smiled and then vanished away from the thicket, leaving Salarion with only the tears on her face to remember him by.

  *****

  Njar and Aparen sat in the glade, discussing how best one might nullify the psionic powers of a gorlung beast when Dremathor appeared before them. The satyr stood quickly, and reached out to steady a very obviously shaky Dremathor.

  “Sorry,” Dremathor offered.

  Njar narrowed his eyes on Dremathor and then glanced to Aparen. The satyr helped Dremathor to a stump and motioned for Aparen to stay back from them.

  “It is done,” Dremathor said.

  Njar surveyed Dremathor and nodded knowingly. “You have sacrificed more than I had hoped you would need to.”

  Dremathor nodded. “But, will it be worth it?” he asked. He looked over toward Aparen and then back to Njar. “Will he make the right choice?”

  Njar sighed. “I believe he will, but nothing is certain.”

  Dremathor opened his hand and revealed the obsidian vial. “I have their powers,” he said. “I also have the immunity.”

  Njar straightened and took the vial from Dremathor. “Go and speak with him,” he said. “For he still wishes to kill your son.”

  Dremathor stood up and looked to Aparen, perplexed and confused. “How does he know my son?”

  Njar placed a strong hand on Dremathor’s shoulder. “I will show you all, but first go and speak with Aparen.”

  Dremathor nodded. “At least tell me by what name my son is known.”

  Njar smiled. “His name is Erik Lokton. He grew up under House Lokton, and had honorable parents. Now go.”