Thirty-five already had been claimed. The next day, the dragon would come for the thirty-sixth. After that, only the conclave would remain.
Kesson had saved the choicest morsels for last.
Avnon sat in the solitude of his meditation cell. His fellow priests had went to do as they would as they waited for death. Some slept, some prayed, some milled aimlessly about. Unprepared to surrender, unwilling to believe that the Shadow God would leave them helpless before the theurge, Avnon sought a vision. He was the Seer of the Demarch Conclave and his faith could not be shaken, even by recent events. Surely the Shadow God would provide a means to save at least some of his faithful.
Avnon sent his consciousness inward, found his center, and made his mind an open vessel.
With a suddenness that caused his body to spasm, he began to see.
Wings beat in the dark, reptilian scales sprouted mouths lined with teeth, Kesson Rel railed in the shadows, souls floated free in a swamp. He sensed motion, and knew he was seeing time and worlds pass him by. There, in another time, he saw the swamp again, bigger, darker. In it stood two men, a tall, bald man with flesh like Kesson Rel who held in one hand a blade of black steel that leaked shadows, and a smaller, one-eyed man who wielded twin blades. Avnon sensed that, like him, they too served the Shadow God. Together, they faced a dragon-the dragon-but the huge reptile was swathed not only in shadows but in…
Avnon came out of the vision in a startled rush. Sweat covered his clammy skin. His breath came hard. He understood then the purpose of his god, and it frightened him.
Kesson Rel was not a heretic. Nor were the priests of the Hall of Shadows. Both served the Shadow God, and as Avnon had thought, the god wanted to determine which of his servants was the stronger. But the determination was not between Kesson Rel and the demarchs of the temple. It was between Kesson Rel and the two men Avnon had seen in his vision.
Avnon and his fellow demarchs were to play a role in setting up that contest. They were one more challenge for Kesson Rel to face. They were allies of the two men in the vision. He felt stunned by the realization and its implications. For a fleeting moment, but only a moment, he felt betrayed by his god.
And yet he remembered the image of the enshrouded dragon.
With a sigh, he accepted his fate. Men of faith must always suffer, and many men had suffered worse than he would. Besides, he found it distantly satisfying to think that he could die in service to his god's plan. He could die to live.
For the time being, he needed to speak with his fellow priests, to convince them of what they must do. They would not like what he was going to demand but they would do it anyway. He was the First Demarch of the Conclave, and it was the only way.
After he spoke with his fellows, he would need to speak to the dragon.
Below, Furlinastis saw the temple. It sat alone in the barren plains, a rectangle of black-veined marble slabs and fluted columns. As he swooped a wide circle through the dark sky, the few humans outside the temple scurried inside, terrified.
Furlinastis took scant pleasure in their fear. His anger at his bondage denied him even that. For the thirty-sixth time, he ground his fangs against each other and struggled against the soul spell that bound him. For the thirty-sixth time, he failed to overcome the compulsion. The small piece of Kesson Rel's being that infected his soul forced him to obey his charge.
He roared in futile rage as he spiraled downward toward the temple. Still fighting, still failing, he alit and sank his claws into the marble stairs, threw open the huge bronze doors, and spoke his pronouncement into the darkened doorway:
"Kesson Rel sends you greetings, and death. I am sent to retrieve one of your number. Send forth Lorm Diivar. He is the next to die."
The temple was quiet. Furlinastis waited, gouging his claws into the marble of the temple's stairway.
After a time, not one but two priests emerged. Both wore the black masks symbolic of their faith. Furlinastis smelled the fear on both of them. They had not come to fight. The elder of the two held an arm around the younger and spoke soothingly to him. Pale and weak, the young priest looked up at the dragon.
The power of Kesson Rel's soulbinding allowed Furlinastis to know that the younger of the priests was Lorm Diivar. He extended a foreclaw.
The older priest stepped before younger and said, "My name is Avnon Des the Seer, First Demarch of the Conclave. What is your name, dragon? Are you bound?"
Furlinastis cocked his head. The priests of the temple had never before attempted to communicate with him. He started to answer but the soul magic compelled him to be about his task. He brushed aside the elderly priest and caught Lorm Diivar up.
The young priest went limp in his grasp. Perhaps he was praying. Furlinastis could not tell.
"Maintain your faith, aspirant," the elderly priest called up to Lorm. "Your death is not in vain, nor is our exile here."
Lorm made no reply that Furlinastis could see. He prepared to take wing.
"I see the soul of Kesson Rel on you, dragon," said the elderly priest. "If you would be free of it, the name you pronounce tomorrow must be mine. Do you understand?"
Furlinastis could not reply, though the priest's words struck him like arrows. Free! He leaped into the air and spread his wings. The elderly priest's voice haunted his flight.
"Avnon Des the Seer! Remember it! You must come for me tomorrow or you will remain his slave forever."
Furlinastis devoured Lorm Diivar while Kesson Rel mocked and smiled. The flesh tasted foul and the young priest's screams were unsatisfying. Furlinastis preferred his meat spoiled in his swamp before dining upon it. He also preferred to dine of his own free will.
Afterward, as he scoured with his tongue the last remnants of the human from between his fangs, he thought of the elderly priest's words. Avnon Des had spoken of freedom from Kesson Rel, from the accursed soulbinding that had made him a slave.
Kesson Rel hovered before him, floating in the air under the power of a spell, lost in thought. Despite his elaborate planning and affected glee, the theurge seemed to take little actual pleasure in the death of his former fellows.
Furlinastis glared hate at the theurge, at the human who had bound him. He decided abruptly that he had nothing to lose by cooperating with Avnon. He was nothing more than a slave to Kesson Rel, a fate that he found worse than death.
To Kesson Rel, he said, "One of the priests, other than the one called, emerged from the temple and offered a challenge."
Kesson looked up from his thoughts, frowned, and asked, "You did not harm him, did you?"
Furlinastis knew that Kesson wanted each of the priests to die before him. He had commanded Furlinastis to kill none, except at his command.
"The challenge was not to me," Furlinastis replied. "It was to you."
"Indeed?" Kesson said, arching an eyebrow. "Which priest? Describe him to me."
Even that slight command triggered the magic of the soul spell and the words poured forth from Furlinastis as of their own accord.
"He was tall and elderly, with black hair graying at the temples. His build was slight and his face was hairless. Like all of them, a mask obscured his eyes. He said his name was Avnon Des the Seer. He seemed unafraid at the mention of your name."
Furlinastis added that last to tweak Kesson's pride. The human's mouth tightened and he crossed his arms across his chest.
"Avnon… Avnon. I had planned to save him for last."
"He named you a heretic," Furlinastis said, recalling the words of Kesson Rel upon their first meeting in the swamp.
The human looked up sharply and glared at Furlinastis. The dragon knew his words had struck home.
"Tomorrow," Kesson said, "journey to the temple and bring back to me Avnon Des the Seer. He will die before this heretic."
The magic of the soul binding sank into Furlinastis's will but he did not resist. He had no lips with which to smile, though he would have if he could.
Twenty-four hours later, Furlinasti
s again soared over the temple. He saw no scurrying figures below, no hurried motion. The temple was as still as a tomb. He alit on the marble stairs, before the open doors.
From within, he caught the scent of blood. Lots of it.
The binding of the magic took hold and he said, "Kesson Rel sends you greetings. And death. I am sent to retrieve one of your number. Send forth Avnon Des the Seer. He is the next to die."
A figure appeared in the doors. Blood spattered his robes; crimson glistened on his hands; a peculiar aura of shifting darkness surrounded him, not shadows but … something else. His eyes behind the mask were tired but determined. He walked forward to the dragon.
"You have done well, dragon," Avnon Des said in his deep voice.
The compulsion did not allow Furlinastis time for questions or comments. He took Avnon Des in his claw and took wing. Strangely, it felt as if the priest was squirming in his grasp, though he could see that the human was motionless.
As they flew away from the temple and toward the swamp, the soul spell's grip on him grew less compelling and freed his tongue.
"You spoke of my freedom," he said.
The dragon tried to keep the urgency, the hope, from his tone. He found it odd to be conversing with prey in his claws.
"And you shall have it," the human said, over the rush of the wind.
Furlinastis thought Avnon's voice sounded different, softer, breathier, younger.
"You stink of blood," Furlinastis said. "Did you kill your fellow priests?"
To that, the human said only, "We were of like mind and they were willing."
"The darkness around you…" the dragon said. "What magic is this?"
Avnon Des twisted around in the claw to look up into Furlinastis's eyes. When he spoke, his voice sounded like that of a human female.
"A special kind," he said. "The only kind that can free you." The human looked off into the gloom, thoughtful. "I must see him, speak to him, before this ends. He must have a chance to repent his sins."
Furlinastis snorted, and streamers of shadow went forth from his nostril.
"He repents nothing, human."
"We will see," replied the priest, and his voice was his own.
For a time, they flew in silence. The human continued to feel as though he was wriggling in Furlinastis's grasp, and Furlinastis kept adjusting his grip to compensate. Soon, they would reach the swamp, and Kesson Rel.
"There is more, dragon," the human said. "Before this can be completed, I must have your oath, an oath on your soul."
Furlinastis snarled and pulled the human up before his face-a difficult maneuver while in flight. He hissed a tiny amount of shadowstuff into Avnon's face and squeezed him a little in his claw.
The priest winced, tried to turn away from the life-draining breath.
"No oaths, priest," Furlinastis said. "And no mention of souls."
He had experienced enough of oaths and souls. Avnon Des's gaze did not waver from behind his mask as he said, "Your oath, dragon, or we will not free you."
"We?"
"Oath, dragon!" the human demanded, and his voice sounded as though it were many voices.
The shadows around Furlinastis writhed with his anger. The darkness around the priest swirled as if in answer.
Furlinastis ground his fangs, roared into the sky, and shook the priest in his claw before he finally said, "Very well."
The priest managed to look relieved even through his mask.
"In a time far from now, two men will enter your swamp. The taller will be bald, and will bear a blade of black steel that leaks darkness. The shorter will have only one eye, and will carry twin blades. These are the First and Second of the Shadow God. You will allow them passage without harm and will lend them what aid you can. It is they who will fulfill the will of the Shadow God and destroy Kesson Rel. Oath it, dragon. On your soul."
Furlinastis swallowed his pride and said, "I swear it, priest. On my soul."
At those words, the piece of Kesson Rel that contaminated Furlinastis's soul wriggled in agitation.
The priest sagged in the dragon's grasp. Furlinastis moved his claw and passenger back to the more comfortable flying position. The swamp was near.
"But I will kill Kesson Rel," the dragon said. "After you've freed me from the soul magic."
Avnon spoke, and it sounded again like many voices speaking at once, "It is not for you to kill him. Nor for us."
Furlinastis spiraled downward toward the swamp and replied, "We will see."
He landed on the muddy ground behind a flat stone, almost an altar, that stood on the shore of a shallow, stinking pool. Blood from Avnon's fellow priests still stained the gray stone of the altar brown. The beat of his wings bent the black-leafed trees of the swamp and sent up a mist of water.
Kesson Rel floated above the pool, aloft under the power of a spell, cloaked in shadows. He eyed Furlinastis's passenger coldly.
As he had with each of the dead priests, Furlinastis set Avnon down on the altar and pressed the point of one of his claws into the human's abdomen. The greasy, squirming feeling surrounding the human's flesh went quiescent, as though trying to be inconspicuous.
Kesson Rel began to laugh-a hateful sound to which Furlinastis had become accustomed. The theurge floated forward, alit on the soft ground, and stood over the prone Avnon.
"Avnon Des," he said, looking down on the captive priest. "I had proposed to save you for last, that you could see the temple and all in it die before you met your own demise."
The priest squirmed under Furlinastis's grasp, trying to free his chest enough to speak.
"You are a heretic, Kesson Rel, and a thief. You drank of the Chalice of Night and thereby made yourself apostate. For that-"
Kesson Rel lunged forward, tore off Avnon's mask, and seized the priest's jaw in his hand.
"And you are a fool, First Demarch, a timid fool. Do you think the Shadow God would have made me this-"
Kesson Rel released the priest and stood back and held up his arms, showing his dusky skin, his yellow eyes, and the shadows that danced around him-"if he did not want me to drink of the Chalice? Do you?"
Under his claw, Furlinastis felt the darkness around the prone priest writhing. Kesson Rel seemed not to notice.
"Repent now, Kesson Rel," Avnon said. "It is not too late. You are the first Chosen of the Shadow God, but you are not his First. Repent, or you will die."
The theurge smiled and said, "I think not." He stared into Avnon's face while he said to Furlinastis, "Eviscerate him, dragon. Slowly."
Keep your promise, priest, Furlinastis thought, as the soulbinding forced his hand. And I will keep mine.
Furlinastis drove the tip of his foreclaw into Avnon's abdomen.
The priest grimaced, but managed to mouth a prayer. Furlinastis heard the power in the words, though most of them were lost in a bloody gurgle as Avnon's mouth began to fill with blood. Waiting for something, anything to occur, Furlinastis continued to tear open the priest. Avnon did not scream, just continued to pray as he was laid open. The prayer reminded Furlinastis of the words used by Kesson Rel to cast the soul spell that bound him.
When Avnon finally breathed his last, nothing happened. Nothing.
Furlinastis could hardly contain a roar of frustration.
Kesson Rel chuckled and said, "Goodbye, First Demarch."
In that instant, a moan sounded, as though from deep under the swamp, and a black fog rose from the freshly dead corpse of the priest. In that fog, Furlinastis saw shapes, faces.
Souls, he realized. The souls of the priests from the temple. Avnon had killed them all, sacrificed them perhaps, and borne their souls to the swamp in his own body.
Wide eyed, Kesson Rel backed up a step. His gaze went from the fog of souls, to the dragon.
"What have you done, dragon?"
Furlinastis heard the fear in the theurge's voice and knew that Avnon had not lied to him.
Kesson Rel began to cast a spell.
"Freed myself, theurge," Furlinastis replied, and hoped that he was right.
The soul binding still prevented him from harming the theurge, so all he could do was sit, wait, and hope.
The cloud of souls moved from the body of the priest, stretched around Furlinastis's body, and merged with the shadows that always surrounded him.
Instantly, a charge ran along his scales, a tremor of power. His scales began to burn, to crawl over his flesh. The shadows around him churned. It felt as if millions of insects were crawling beneath his scales, walking along his flesh, biting his skin.
Kesson Rel's voice trailed off before completing his spell.
"Stop, dragon," Kesson Rel screamed. "Stop."
But Furlinastis could not stop.
Furlinastis leaped into the air, writhing, twisting, roaring. The souls swarmed him, covered him. He hissed in agony as the priests burrowed into his being. He felt like daggers were being driven behind his eyes.
"Avnon Des, you betrayed me!" he screamed between roars.
Then he felt it, and knew that he had judged wrongly.
The souls of the priests, all eight of them, permeated his soul, scoured his being until they located the portion of Kesson Rel's soul with which the theurge had bound Furlinastis. A battle began within Furlinastis, an invisible war that he could sense but not see.
The two sides crashed into each other like warring armies. Furlinastis heard the conflict only dimly, as though from a great distance. Bolts of spiritual energy burst from the sheath of shadows that surrounded him. Distant shouts rang in his ears. Furlinastis felt the binding on the soul spell of the theurge loosen, as though someone was withdrawing a parasite that had wormed its way into the deepest recesses of his flesh.
He felt the chains on his will release, and he was free of the soul binding. The battle in his soul went quiet, though he still felt tension.
Realms of the Dragons vol.1 a-9 Page 2