“Eight that we know of,” the demon said, while averting its eyes “Although we didn’t search the entire Keep.”
Warvyn’s eyes widened.
“We believe all came to join the battle. It is a reasonable assumption.”
Warvyn realized that his demon was correct and voice his agreement. “I agree. In the grand scheme of things, a wizard or two lost in the Keep will not matter. Take them away!”
Warvyn lowered his head and contemplated. Acceptable loses? His brother wouldn’t see it that way. He had hoped to be able to heal them all. Warvyn waved the demon off and watched as it led the small procession of ragged wizards out of the room.
A stocky demon with bluish-black scales and long fangs entered the room through the gate and threw a burlap bundle of something at the foot of Warvyn’s throne. Warvyn stood up, his curiosity piqued, and stepped down to one side, while watching the bundle uncover itself and struggle to its feet. He wasn’t surprised that his demons had found more wizards—he was surprised that they brought one before him, bundled in burlap.
The gangly demon bowed deeply. “Sorry to intrude, Lord. This one speaks of the dark mage and has made claims. I thought you might need to hear his words.”
Warvyn’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the cowering mage at his feet. He recognized the face from long ago, but could not place the wizard’s name. Had he fought at Ror? Surely not, for no wizard from that epic battle would ever cower like this before him.
Collin looked up into the drooling maw that was the Warvyn and shuddered. He prostrated himself, and tried not to soil himself. The demon was of chiseled frame, a full four feet taller, and twice as wide, as the diminutive mage. He realized that he could be crushed like a walnut if the demon had the mind. Collin tried to keep his knees from knocking.
He faced the floor, afraid to meet the demon eye-to-eye. “L..Lord, I beg of you...I am in the employ of the dark one. It is she whom I serve. Please spare my insignificant life.”
Collin rolled up his sleeve and exposed his forearm. Just above the elbow was the twin crescent sign of the Master. Warvyn recognized it immediately.
Warvyn chuckled to himself. So, the Keep has a traitor in their midst. “If you are truly insignificant, then it would matter not if I end your life here and now. Do you wish to reconsider your claim?”
Collin winced as he nodded. He should have chosen his words more carefully. “I..I can be of great assistance. I know the Keep and its many secrets.”
“And you would be willing to tell me, betraying your own.”
The words bit Collin deeply. “I am willing...to live.”
Warvyn roared. This little man amused him.
“And what do you know of this Master to whom you claim patronage?”
Collin staggered to his feet. “She is the last dark mage. I brought a book into the Keep for her. It is because of my sleuth that you were able to attack. I have done service for her for the past decades.”
“Now that we have determined that you are a traitor, may I ask why?”
Collin wrinkled his brow and dropped his shoulders. “Sometimes choices are presented and one must chose a side. It seemed a prudent choice...at the time. The dark one is not an easy woman to turn down when beckoned.”
Warvyn grunted, knowing what the little man was saying between the words.
Collin felt the tension in the room ease.
Warvyn rubbed his chin and reasoned, “Why would she wish the book to be in the hands of wizards?”
“I..I..I do not know,” Collin answered. “And the request was for me to put it into the hands of a specific wizard, a boy really.”
Warvyn roared, “Do you even understand the power that this book you delivered contains?”
Collin shook his head, “I did not ask questions; questions only get you killed. I only did as bid. Nothing more, nothing less. I never opened the book. I simply placed it on the shelves where the boy would find it.”
“Do you mean a younger mage?”
“No, a boy—maybe thirteen or fourteen.”
“This boy,” Warvyn asked, not aware that there were still children at the Keep, “…he is new to the Keep?”
“I guess, yes. He arrived about a fortnight ago. He is Ja’tar’s nephew.”
“Nephew? By Topaz,” Warvyn asked, “or another other?”
Collin looked confused for an instant and stammered out his answer, “By To..to..topaz I guess.”
Warvyn leaned in, “Is she here?”
“No, her realm was closed. I hear she died after childbirth.”
“That is too bad,” Warvyn quietly said, with a certain amount of sadness in his voice.
Collin nodded. “The dark one wished the boy to use the book. For what purpose I could not have guessed.”
Warvyn broke into a deep laugh. “What do you think she would want him to do with the book of Rah’tok?”
“Rah’tok?” Collin’s eyes went wide and sweat formed on his forehead. He knew what the book’s purpose was. He swallowed hard. “I d..d..didn’t know it was Rah’tok’s book. I thought that book was destroyed at Ror.”
Zedd’aki was surrounded my large white-backed demons, scaled and deformed. Their overly large feet and arthritic joints made them appear barely capable of standing. Zedd’aki knew better.
He had been partially healed, although the wounds still stung and he was dead tired from the strain put on his body. That was the way of healing. It pulled vitality from the person who was being healed. More than one mage had overdone it and died of the healing—not of the injuries.
He stood still as they busied themselves putting on his permanent collar, known as the Ewaiyi. He felt the vile magic take hold as soon as the device was placed around his neck. Both he and Ja’tar had thought the collars had been destroyed after the war. Ja’tar thought he had spied one when the spawn had escaped through a rift while they were trying to escape the glamour that tainted their minds. Zedd’aki had not thought it would have been possible to recreate the abominations—yet, here they were. Zedd’aki ran his hands over the metal and was unable to find the latch. He was trapped now—his worst nightmares were being fulfilled.
He didn’t see them bring in Collin, but he recognized his voice. At first he hadn’t paid much attention, but the word traitor had brought the conversation to the forefront of his mind. He listened long enough to know that they had been betrayed.
The demons tested the chain, giving it a yank. They grunted in satisfaction that it would hold and that the mage was helpless. He hadn’t overheard the entire discussion between Collin and Warvyn, but he had heard enough. His anger boiled and he stood stiffly with hands clenched with tight fists.
The guards relaxed, knowing that Zedd’aki no longer posed a threat. They clicked and growled at each other—giving displays of bravado, bumping chest plates and butting heads. When the opportunity presented itself, he reached down and grabbed a short sword from the demon that had turned his back on the mage to join in the banter. He stepped out from behind a column and charged swiftly across the room before he could be stopped.
Collin’s eyes went wide with fear as he threw his hands up and opened his mouth to say something. But only two words made it to his lips before Zedd’aki ran him through.
“Stop...I...,” he muttered as he felt the cold steel slide into his gut. He looked down in horror as a blood stain spread in his robe. He felt his knees go weak and he collapsed to the floor. He arms felt like lead as he tried to pull the blade free.
Zedd’aki contorted his mouth in rage and twisted the sword sharply side-to-side before letting it fall free from his grip.
“Damn you!” He took a step back and pointed an accusatory finger. “Die traitor! You have destroyed us all.”
Collin held his wound, trying to keep from bleeding out. Small rivulets of blood had formed on his lips and he was already coughing up blood. He looked up at Zedd’aki with a blank expression.
The demon next to Collin pulled the swor
d free. It made a soft sucking sound that turned Zedd’aki’s stomach. Collin looked down at the wound, but was unable to bring to mind the spell that would heal. Some mage, he thought to himself. He lowered his hand and let his life’s blood drain to the floor.
“Forgive me...I...was stupid and got trapped...”
Zedd’aki couldn’t accept the apology and looked down with hatred.
Collin’s voice trailed off. “I chose...poorly!”
His face went white, his eyes rolled back and he toppled over as his last breath wheezed from already dead lips.
The demon from which he had stolen the sword rushed over and grabbed Zedd’aki by the chain and yanked him back causing him to choke when the neck piece wrenched his throat. He fell to his knees and clutched at the choker with white knuckled hands as the demon kicked him hard in his stomach.
The demon looked to its master with questioning eyes as it held its sword high, ready to plunge into Zedd’aki at a moment’s notice.
Warvyn looked to Zedd’aki and waved the demon off. The demon looked confused and held his ground, less it had misinterpreted its master’s command. Warvyn waved him off a second time. The chain fell to the ground and the demon backed away, facing his master, waiting for the retribution it knew was coming. It prepared. But nothing came.
“Shall I call on healers for the mage?” the demon asked hesitantly with a quivering lip.
“No, let this one die,” Warvyn ordered. “Have someone sent to clean up this mess.”
The demon bowed and motioned to the door, which brought a group of human slaves—none of whom Zedd’aki recognized.
Zedd’aki looked down at Collin in disgust.
Warvyn waved his servants to drag the body away. “It seems we have both been betrayed.”
“Both?” Zedd’aki could hardly believe his ears. “It seems to me he did your bidding.”
“Not mine...but those of someone I am forced to serve. I did not know that the dark mage planted the book where the child would find it.”
“Would it have mattered?”
Warvyn shrugged, unwilling to say one way or the other.
Zedd’aki listened very carefully to Warvyn’s words because they sounded of half-truths, hidden and deep with meaning.
“It is true that we came to the Keep looking for the Book of Rah’tok. It belongs in Darkhalla; it belongs to me. I did not expect a fight and took extreme precaution to avoid it. I didn’t know I was being set up.”
Zedd’aki spat and waved his hands outward in a wide arc. “You expect me to believe you didn’t come there to destroy us?”
Warvyn shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter to me what you believe to be true. I have lost what little interest I held for the world of man, a point I made very clear to my brother when last we met in Ror.”
Zedd’aki rubbed his chin, contemplating his answer. He had been there, had heard the words. He didn’t believe them then, and he didn’t believe them now!
Warvyn continued, “I only came here to retrieve the book. I grow weary of being summoned to do the dirty-work of men—be they dark, light, or kings. I want no part of your constant warring. I prefer my decadent perversions. As for this—you summoned me.”
Zedd’aki frowned. “We have not summoned you for thousands of years.”
Warvyn looked up, his lips thin, his eyes yellow with rage. “But you have! That is how we came to be in your plane. We cannot enter without...invitation.”
Zedd’aki shook his fist. “Bah! You attacked us! The boy didn’t know...”
“That is not my problem,” Warvyn growled, pointing a finger in Zedd’aki’s direction. “My demons made every effort to not be noticed. We waited until dark, we took your form, and we stayed out of sight.”
“You attacked us.”
Warvyn swore. “No mage, you attacked first. You forced our hand. We came at night so that we could sneak in and out without notice. We were happened upon and the battle, how shall we say—ensued. You wizards raised the alarm and all came to answer.”
“And you expected different? You’re not that naive.”
Warvyn showed indifference.
Zedd’aki scowled, unsure of whether the truth was being spoken or not. “How do I know this is not a trap?”
Warvyn answered. “That is a fair question. I would say that you standing there, alive, were proof enough of my intentions.”
Zedd’aki snorted. “You may seek to trick the remainder of us out into the open.”
“I would have, perhaps, a long time ago. But I also offer to you all the other wizards that are being gathered and chained by my kin.”
“Yet the trap could be the same.”
Warvyn took a deep breath. “I offer you those I took captive at Ror.”
Zedd’aki’s mouth dropped open. “Ror? H..How many.”
“There are many, several dozen at least.”
“All alive?”
Warvyn hesitated.
“What? They are not alive?” Zedd’aki demanded.
Warvyn chose his words carefully. “They are not all…healthy...”
Zedd’aki’s eyes narrowed and his brows knit together. “What does that mean in plain language?”
“Some were of a more...delicate constitution. Their minds weren’t open to the ways of demons and our...desires!”
“You bastard,” Zedd’aki swore as he lunged, only to be yanked from his feet by the demon at the end of the chain.
Warvyn grinned, and poked a finger down into Zedd’aki’s chest. “I was not in a charitable mood when I was forced to leave my home and make Darkhalla my home. I took certain liberties in my rage. Can you blame me?”
Zedd’aki pulled on the chain until his neck bled. The veins in his neck stood tall. “You will pay...”
“I have already paid!” Warvyn cursed. “I am what you and the Ten have made me.”
“Then you shall pay again,” Zedd’aki shouted back, his hand clutched tight in a fist.
Warvyn stared him down. “Not today, nor in the foreseeable future, and definitely not by your hand.”
Zedd’aki growl was choked off by another yank of his chain. He turned toward the demon and hissed. The demon laughed.
“Enough of this petty banter, we can get better acquainted later. I have purpose!”
Zedd’aki’s eyes narrowed, “What purpose?”
Warvyn laughed in his face. “Isn’t that obvious? We both face a common enemy.”
A blank look filled Zedd’aki’s face.
Warvyn cocked his head to one side and then a grin spread across his maw. “You honestly don’t know. She has caught the wizards of the Keep by surprise.”
Zedd’aki was confused. “She, who?”
“The dark mage and her followers, that’s who!”
Zedd’aki mouthed the words, “Dark mage?”
“Have you been holed up in this rundown building all these years?”
Zedd’aki snarled. “We have been doing the work of the Guild!”
“The Guild? The Guild hasn’t existed since Ror. The Ten made damned sure of that.”
The air hung silent. Zedd’aki let the words of Warvyn sink in. It made sense. Ja’tar had his suspicions. Mayhap the beast told the truth.
“We had heard of strange events transpiring in the realms. We had not yet determined it to be the work of a dark mage. But we suspected...”
“Well, I can tell you with no uncertainty that she lives and breathes.”
“You seem to know much of her...”
Warvyn let Zedd’aki’s accusation hang in the air.
“She has been a thorn in my side, and has summoned us to do her dirty-work. That is why I tried to regain the book. I feared it falling into her hands. We did know she already held it in her possession.”
Zedd’aki rested his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “So, I am supposed to believe that you came here solely for the book?”
Warvyn nodded. “If I can return the book to Darkhalla, then we cannot be
summoned because the book contains the power to allow us to resist the Callings. With it, we cannot be pulled into the battles of man. We will be...free!”
“And the dark mage?”
“She is strong, but I grow stronger...able to resist her call, even without the book. It takes her sacrifice of many slaves to do the Calling. Soon, there will not be enough slaves in her house!”
“She could call others!”
“She could, but I would slaughter them where they stood. I rule Darkhalla. None stand above me, but the Dark Lord himself! The one being Called may not be able to resist, but I can wipe them from the pattern before they even leave this plane.”
Zedd’aki listened. What Warvyn said made sense, but he still was confused.
“Warvyn, how could Collin deliver the book to the boy, Bal’kor, when I know for a fact that the book is locked in Ja’tar’s room?”
Warvyn’s head whipped around. “My brother destroyed the book! I was there.”
“Yet it is in his room. I have seen it.”
“The Keeper plays a very dangerous game…”
“In the old days…he was a different man. He has many secrets.”
Warvyn grumbled and rubbed his chin. “If my brother has the original, then I am not sure. Is it possible that Ja’tar created his from memory? He was as good at the dark arts as I was…”
Zedd’aki froze. He had not known that Ja’tar had practiced the dark arts. They had never spoken of it. Zedd’aki cocked his head and shrugged.
“Regardless, there could have been a copy made. More likely, I reason that the dark mage recreated the book from memory. Perhaps she had found remnants and parchments from the past. Mayhap even the Dark Lord gave her some of the secrets. Since I have not seen the full book, I do not know if its contents are complete.”
“If you saw the book you’d know?”
Warvyn nodded and considered his next words carefully. “I do not need the book to cast its spells…”
Zedd’aki considered Warvyn’s words, reading between the line. Furthermore, he extrapolated on his conjecture. “Plausible, I suppose.”
“What I put forth is more than plausible, it is fact. I have been summoned by the dark one for decades.”
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla Page 15