She reached out, adding to the demon’s variations on the patterns. Now the interior of the tent crackled with energies both in flux and in conflict.
“Speak the words, human,” commanded Xazax. “Speak before we are engulfed by our own creation . . .”
Galeona did, the ancient syllables spilling from her lips. Each word made her own blood burn, made the horrific veins coursing over her partner flare over and over. The dark sorceress spoke more quickly, knowing that if she faltered, Xazax’s fear might yet prove true.
A thing the color of mold and fleshed almost like a toad formed above the body of Captain Tolos. It struggled, twisted, tried to cry out with a mouth not completely formed.
Let . . . me . . . resssst! it demanded.
Deformed beyond even the manner of demons, the grotesque creature sought to swipe first at Galeona, then Xazax. However, the wards that she had set into place caused a blue spark whenever the monstrosity reached out, a spark which clearly hurt the thing much. In frustration, it finally pulled within itself, wrapping spindly, taloned limbs about it as if trying to fold itself up enough to utterly disappear.
“You are ours to command,” she told the imprisoned creature.
I . . . must . . . rest!
“You cannot rest until you complete the task we’ve set for you!”
Nightmarish eyes that dangled loose yet also seemed in some ways human peered at her in open malevolence. Very well . . . for a time, anyway. What would . . . you have . . . of me?
“No magic binds your eyes, no barriers block your vision. See for us what we seek and tell us where it is.”
The horror above Tolos’s cooling body quivered, rumbled. Both Xazax and Galeona bent back at first—until both realized that the thing only laughed at their demand.
That . . . is all? For this . . . I am tortured . . . forced to wake and even . . . forced to remember?
Recovering, the witch nodded. “Do it and we’ll return you to your sleep.”
The eyes swung toward the demon. Show . . . me what . . . you seek.
The mantis drew a small circle in the midst of the main pattern. A haze of orange filled the area in which the trapped creature floated. The eyes stared into the haze, seeing what even Galeona could not see.
It becomes . . . clearer . . . what you . . . seek. It will . . . be requiring . . . of a price.
“The payment,” interjected Xazax. “you have already tasted a portion of.”
Their prisoner gazed down at the body. Accepted.
And with but that—a force struck Galeona so hard within her mind that the sorceress fell back, collapsing onto her pillows.
She sailed aboard a vessel of dubious means and reputation, a vessel fighting a storm she found not at all natural. The storm had already ripped apart some of the sails, yet still the ship pressed on.
Curiously, Galeona saw no crew aboard, almost as if only ghosts manned this vessel. However, something tugged at her, demanded she look beyond the deck. Without even moving her feet, the sorceress shifted position, the door of a cabin now before her. Galeona raised one transparent hand, trying to push open that door.
Instead, she drifted through it, entering the cabin like one of the specters she had imagined sailing the ship. Yet, the lone occupant of this sad excuse for a room in no manner resembled the dead. In fact, up close he looked like far more than Galeona had first believed. Very much a soldier. Very much a man.
The witch tried to touch his face, but her hand went through his flesh. Nevertheless, he shifted slightly and almost smiled. Galeona glanced down at the rest of his body, noting how Bartuc’s armor fit him well.
Then, a shadow in the corner caught her attention, a shadow with a familiar feel to it. Xazax.
Knowing that she had to tread carefully now, Galeona focused on what she and the demon sought. Once more acting as if she caressed the fighter’s cheek, the witch murmured. “Who are you?”
He turned slightly, as if unsettled.
“Who are you?” she repeated.
This time, his lips opened and he mumbled, “Norrec.”
She smiled at her success. “On what ship do you sail?”
“Hawksfirrre.”
“What is its destination?”
Now he began to turn. A frown appeared on his slumbering visage and he seemed unwilling to answer, even in his dreams.
Determined not to fail in this, the most important of the questions, Galeona repeated herself.
Again, he did not answer. The witch looked up, saw that Xazax’s shadow grew stronger. She did not trust the demon to take care, though. In fact, his presence even threatened to jeopardize matters.
The sorceress turned her attention back to Norrec, looming over him and speaking to him now in the seductive tone she generally reserved most for Augustus. “Tell me, my brave, handsome warrior . . . tell Galeona to where you sail . . .”
His mouth opened. “Lut—”
At that moment, the demon’s shadow crossed his face.
Norrec’s eyes flew open. “What in the name of all—”
And Galeona found herself back in the tent, her eyes staring toward the ceiling, her body covered in a chill sweat.
“You imbecile!” she roared, picking herself up. “What were you thinking?”
Xazax’s mandibles snapped open and close. “Thinking that this one could find answers much more quickly than a much distracted female human . . .”
“There are much better ways than fear for discovering secrets! I had him answering everything! Afew moments’ more and we would have had all we needed to know!” She thought quickly on the subject. “Maybe it’s not too late! If—”
She hesitated, staring down at where Tolos lay—or rather, had lain.
The body, even the blood that had splattered the carpet, had vanished.
“The dream one has taken his prize,” Xazax remarked. “This Captain Tolos will suffer a terrible afterdeath . . .”
“Never mind him! We have to get the Dreamer back—”
Here the mantis vehemently twisted his head back and forth, the closest he could come to shaking it. “This one will not defy a Dreamer in his own domain. Their realm is beyond even that of Hell or Heaven. Here we may command them, but, break the link, and they may take what is theirs.” The demon leaned forward. “Do you think your general might part with another soul?”
Galeona ignored his suggestion, thinking what she could say to Malevolyn. She had the names of both the man and his vessel, but what good did that do her? The ship might be sailing anywhere! If only he had managed to blurt out his destination before the demon had fouled matters much! If only—
“He said ‘Lut—,’” the witch gasped. “It has to be!”
“You have a thought?”
“Lut Gholein, Xazax! Our fool journeys to Lut Gholein!” Her eyes widened in satisfaction. “He comes to us, just as I first said!”
The monstrous yellow eyes flashed once. “You are certain of this?”
“Very much!” Galeona let out a throaty chuckle, one that would have stirred many a man, but did nothing for the demon. “I must go tell Augustus at once! This will keep him in line for the time being!” She considered further. “Perhaps I can finally convince him to dare the desert. He wants Lut Gholein; this gives him even more reason to want to take it!”
Xazax gave her what for the mantis appeared a puzzled look. “But if the human Malevolyn throws his men at Lut Gholein, he will certainly fail—aah! This one understands! How clever!”
“I don’t know what you mean . . . and I’ve no more time to argue with you! I must tell Augustus that the armor sails toward us as if summoned by our very hand.”
She swept out of the tent, leaving the demon to his own devices. Xazax glanced at the spot where the unfortunate officer’s body had lain but a short time before, then again at the tent flaps through which the darkskinned sorceress had passed.
“The armor sails toward us, yes,” the mantis chittered, his form beginning to
fade back into shadow. “Curious what your general would think of you, though . . . if it did not reach Lut Gholein.”
Norrec’s eyes flew open. “What in the name of all—”
He paused, already half out of his bunk. Even though the lamp had gone out, Norrec could see well enough to know that he remained the only occupant of the cabin. The woman leaning over him—a sight he would certainly not soon forget—had evidently been the product of his dreams. What exactly she had been doing, the veteran could not say, only that she seemed interested in talking with him.
A beautiful woman who only wants to talk is certain to be after your purse, Fauztin had once pointed out to Sadun Tryst after the latter had nearly lost his meager pay to a female thief. Yet, what harm could a woman in a dream do to Norrec, especially considering his already dire situation?
He wished that he had not awakened. Perhaps if the dream had gone on longer, it would have proved more enticing. Certainly it had been an improvement over his recent nightmares.
Thinking of nightmares, Norrec tried to remember what had actually made him call out. Not the woman. Some sense of foreboding? Not quite right, either. More the feeling that something horrific had been encroaching upon him even as the dark-skinned temptress had leaned nearer . . .
A violent shift in the Hawksfire suddenly sent Norrec tumbling. He fell against the cabin door, which swung open without warning.
On his own, Norrec would not have reacted swiftly enough, but one gauntleted hand shot out of its own accord, seizing hold of the door frame and preventing the helpless soldier from crashing through the outside rail and plummeting into the stormy sea. Norrec dragged himself to safety, then pulled himself to his feet, his hands once more his own.
Did Captain Casco no longer have any control over his crew? If they were not careful, they would end up letting the waves and wind tear the Hawksfire apart!
He seized a handhold and began fighting his way toward the bow. The roar of the waves and the constant rumble of thunder made it impossible to hear the mariners, but certainly Casco had to be berating them for their carelessness. Certainly the captain would see to it that his crew—
Not a soul stood on the deck of the Hawksfire .
Still unwilling to believe his eyes, Norrec glanced up at the wheel. Using strong rope, someone had lashed it into one position, giving at least a semblance of control. However, there any concern for the ship ended. Already some of the lines for the sails fluttered loose, whipping about madly in the storm. One sail had tears in it that threatened to widen quickly unless someone did something.
The crew had to be below. No one would have been insane enough to abandon a serviceable ship, even the Hawksfire, in the midst of such violence. Casco had likely summoned them to the mess in order to discuss some drastic measure. Surely that had to be—
The lifeboat that should have been hanging near to where he stood had vanished.
Norrec quickly peered over the rail, but saw only loose ropes battering the hull. No accident had occurred here; someone had definitely lowered the boat into the water.
He ran from rail to rail, confirming his greatest fear. The crew had abandoned the Hawksfire, leaving both it and Norrec at the mercy of the storm . . .
But why?
It was a question to which he already knew the answer. He recalled the expressions of the crew after the suit had summoned the demons to repair the mast. Fear and horror—and both aimed not at the armor, but rather the man who wore it. The crew had been afraid of the power they believed Norrec wielded. Even from the start of the voyage, there had been a wariness whenever he had entered the mess. They had known even then that he had been no ordinary passenger and the incident involving the mast had more than proven them correct.
Ignoring the rain and wind, he returned once more to the rail, trying to make out any sign of the crew. Unfortunately, they had likely left hours before, making good use of his exhaustion after the summoning. Never mind that they had probably condemned themselves to death on the sea; the mariners had feared more for their eternal souls than their mortal bodies.
But where did that leave Norrec? How could he hope to sail the Hawksfire to land by himself, much less even steer a course to Lut Gholein?
Acreaking noise directly behind him made the desperate soldier quickly turn.
Looking much bedraggled and not at all pleased to see Norrec, Captain Casco emerged from below deck. He had appeared cadaverous before, now he looked almost like a ghost.
“You . . .” he muttered. “Demon man . . .”
Norrec closed in on him, seizing Casco by the shoulders. “What happened? Where’s the crew?”
“Left!” the captain snapped, pulling free. “Drown on sea rather than sail with demon master!” He shoved past Norrec. “Too much work to do! Away!”
The dismayed soldier watched as Casco moved to tighten some lines. His entire crew had abandoned ship, but the captain insisted on not only trying to keep the Hawksfire seaworthy, but also on route. It seemed like a mad, pointless exercise, but Casco looked determined to try as best he could.
Following after, Norrec called out, “What can I do to help?”
The soaked mariner gave him a contemptuous glance. “Jump over!”
“But . . .”
Casco ignored him, moving on to the next ropes. Norrec took one step, then realized how futile it would be to get the captain to listen. Casco had reason to both fear and hate him, and the veteran could not blame the man. Because of Norrec, Casco would likely lose both his ship and his life.
Lightning flashed, this time so near that Norrec had to turn away in order to keep from being blinded. Frustrated by his inability to do anything, he headed to the doorway leading below deck. Perhaps out of the storm he could better think.
Afew lanterns still provided light as he descended into the bowels of the Hawksfire, yet their illumination did not help keep Norrec from being unsettled by the emptiness around him. Everyone but Casco had left the ship, daring certain death in order to be rid of the demon master in their midst. Likely if they had thought that they could have slain him, they would have tried that, but the display of power by the suit had clearly convinced them otherwise.
Which left Norrec wondering how long the Hawksfire had before the waves and wind tore it apart.
He glared at the gauntlets, the parts of the armor he most associated with his plight. If not for the suit, he would have never been in this predicament.
“Well?” Norrec nearly spat. “What do you plan to do now? Are we to start swimming if the ship sinks?”
At first he regretted even making the suggestion, fearful that the armor would choose to attempt to do just that. Norrec tried not to picture the heavy armor trying to stay afloat. To him, who had rarely taken to the sea save for short voyages, drowning seemed the most horrible of fates. To suffocate, to have his lungs fill with water as the dark sea engulfed him . . . better to run a blade through his gut instead!
The Hawksfire shook, this time in so violent a manner that the hull moaned ominously. Norrec gazed toward the ceiling, wondering if Captain Casco had finally lost what little control of the ship he had briefly had.
Again the vessel shook, the planks literally bending. A few more moments of this and the soldier felt certain that all his darkest fears would soon come true. Already he could feel the waters closing in.
Determined not to fall victim to panic, Norrec raced to the stairway, fighting to keep his footing as he rushed back up on deck. Whatever the mariner might think of him, Norrec had to try to somehow help Casco regain mastery of the Hawksfire .
He heard Casco shouting something in his native tongue, an unending litany of curses, from the sound of it. Norrec looked around, trying to find the captain in the storm.
He found Casco—along with a gigantic nightmare rising from the sea.
A gargantuan horror with what seemed a hundred tentacles and one vast red orb had the bow of the Hawksfire in its clutches. The aquatic behemoth resembl
ed a giant squid, but only if some great force had first ripped away its skin and put in place wicked barbs everywhere. Worse, many of the smaller tentacles had, not suction cups, but rather tiny, clawlike hands that grasped and pulled at whatever part of the ship they could reach. Sections of the rail came away readily, as did some of the deck itself. Several hands and tentacles sought for the sails.
Captain Casco ran about the deck, ducking one attacking appendage and swatting at others with a long, hooked pole. On the deck near him, one ripped end of a tentacle flopped around, dark ichor pouring from the torn section. Defying the danger all about him, the mariner continued to try to fend off the monstrous sea creature. The sight looked as absurd as it did terrifying, one lone man trying to stop the inevitable . . .
Once more, Norrec looked down at the gloves, shouting, “Do something!”
The suit did not react.
With nothing else left for him, Norrec looked around, seeking a weapon. Seeing another of the hooked poles, he immediately seized it and ran to Casco’s side.
His actions proved most timely for at that moment a pair of clawed hands rose behind the battling captain, reaching for his back. One hand managed to dig into Casco’s bony shoulder, causing the captain to cry out.
Norrec brought the hooked pole into play, burying the point in the monstrous hand and pulling with all his might.
To his amazement, the hand tore off, dropping to the deck. At the same time, though, the second appendage, inhuman claws outstretched, turned toward Norrec. In addition, two tentacles with suction cups darted in from the veteran fighter’s right.
Bringing the pole around again, Norrec tore into one of the tentacles, sending it retreating. The hand snapped at him, talons as long as the fingers trying to rip into Norrec’s face. He swatted at it with the side of the pole, but missed.
What sort of monster had risen up from the depths? Although he would have willingly admitted that he knew little about life in the Twin Seas, Norrec Vizharan had heard no tales of any creature akin to this ungodly abomination. It looked more like a thing out of a tale of horror, a beast more at home with the demonic imps the suit had earlier summoned.
Diablo #1: Legacy of Blood Page 11