by R H Frye
Magus
R.H. Frye
Prologue
It was a clearing much like a hundred others in the Appalachian Mountains. Standing amid the great oaks, poplars, and pines, Danny and Carol simply saw a great spot to pitch their tent for the night. The ground was level and covered with the leaves and needles of the trees that hovered protectively around the little clearing. The stream that ran from a spring at the bottom of the draw to the south meant they could fill their canteens and wash their mess kits before continuing their hike on the Appalachian Trail in the morning.
The young couple had seen the No Trespassing signs shortly after they left the Trail but had assumed the signs were just a ploy from some hunter to keep others off his private hunting grounds. They had even clawed their way through a particularly nasty deadfall, probably left over from Hurricane Hugo, to reach this little clearing, but they did not mind the extra work. They were young lovers, fresh from high school, sharing a summer adventure on the Trail before going off to college in the fall.
Danny and Carol had only been on the Trail for a couple of days and had only dated for a few months before school ended. They had not even made love yet, although both thought that could change tonight; hence the search for more privacy than the standard campsites offered.
Carol was a bit worried, since it would be her first time ever. But she loved Danny's gentle nature, his keen intelligence, his quiet competence, and his strong farm boy's body. And it was not as if she were a prude. She simply could not justify sharing her body with any of the losers she had dated before Danny.
With Danny, things were different. He was always considerate and never pressured her for sex. They had fooled around of course, sharing kisses, with some petting and groping for good measure, but when she said stop Danny stopped. Now, she finally felt confident in his love, and she had decided that tonight was the night.
Soon the happy couple settled into their nightly routine. Danny pitched the tent as Carol set up their small propane grill. She took the mess kit out and opened a large can of Beanie Weenies. As she pried the lid out, she slipped and managed to gash her finger more deeply than a person would normally think possible. She cried, "Damn!" and popped the finger in her mouth, but not before several precious drops of her blood vanished in the leaves beneath her. Danny hurried over and helped her bandage the cut, and the incident was all but forgotten. Danny finished with the tent while Carol put the finishing touches on their simple dinner. The happy couple ate, cleaned their dishes in the stream, and bedded down for an eventful evening…although in not quite the manner they anticipated.
Had this happy couple only known the secret history of this clearing, they would certainly have found another place to make their camp. They had no way of knowing that the signs and the deadfall had been placed there by the last surviving member of a family that had passed a certain responsibility down through countless generations over the course of several millennia. This duty was old when the white man came with his whiskey, guns, and disease. A few members of this family managed to remain hidden while their friends and relatives were rounded up and marched away on The Trail of Tears. They could remember, through their oral histories, when the small expeditions of tough, bearded men with pale skin and red hair passed through from the far north. Most importantly, they could remember the time when that hilltop had been laid bare, when great slabs of rock had stood in concentric circles around a huge stone altar in the center. They remembered the men, who were more than men, which reveled in the blood sacrifices on that altar. They remembered the horrendous war that was fought, the cost in human lives, the costly victory, and the oaths to bury that memory forever. Members of the same family had toppled the stones, buried the leader of the evil beneath the altar, covered the stones with earth, and planted the forest to hide the spot from men forever.
This family then guarded the spot from the prying eyes of the world through the long, countless years, until modern man, with his disbelief in all things not scientific, caused the family to fall. These later generations sneered at the ancient tales and would not take up the task of their ancestors. Finally, one lonely old man set up the deadfall and placed the signs, tottered back to his cabin, said a prayer to the spirits, and died. But beneath the clearing, beneath the altar, the ancient evil slept and waited.
Maraydel felt something new and powerful. Well, the feeling was not truly new, but its memory was buried so deeply in the mists of time that it was startling, vital, and deeply invigorating. For the first time in millennia, he awakened and began to take stock of his surroundings.
His first awareness was of darkness and oppressive weight on the desiccated vessel of his spirit. As he searched through his mind, memories of better times came forward. Ah, how those memories burned within him now. The memories of power wielded and of desires fulfilled spurred him to greater efforts at understanding. Suddenly, the source of this renewed vigor became clear.
Innocence… The thought was like a whispered word. Maraydel reached out with his mind, for the first time in ages, and searched for the source of this renewed strength. The source was close, he noted, with something like glee. But what was this? He could sense that the fall of the most vital portion of that innocence was close. He could not allow that, now when freedom from countless years of confinement was so close! Once more he reached out, but not to search. No, this time he reached out to control.
Carol felt Danny stiffen beside her. What was wrong? She knew this was right. They both wanted this, so what was the holdup?
Things had been going well. They had crawled in the tent and simply fallen into each other's arms. The kissing and petting had progressed along age-old lines until both lay naked. Carol thought Danny would be moving soon to consummate their love, but instead he lay stiff and…trembling?…beside her.
"Danny? Danny are you ok?" she asked. He did not answer. My God, was it some kind of seizure or something? She fumbled about in the darkness until she finally found the little flashlight where it hung suspended from the peak of the tent each night. She quickly switched it on and recoiled from what she saw.
Danny lay beside her in all his naked glory, and Carol absently noted his attractive physique and obvious arousal. These things were not the cause of her shock. In all her life, she had never seen someone so suddenly pale or so unnaturally rigid. His eyes were opened wide and his pupils were dilated, in spite of the flashlight shining into them. And as she watched, his green eyes suddenly changed to the palest blue she had ever seen. She touched his arm, and it was rock-hard and as cold as ice.
"Oh my God, Danny, what's wrong?" Still he did not answer, and Carol started to search for her clothes, so she missed the color returning to his body. She glanced back towards Danny and was relieved to see the tension was gone and his color looked more normal. His eyes were still that pale shade of blue, however.
As Carol watched, Danny's eyes rolled towards her, and he began to smile. There was something about the smile that she did not particularly like, however. Somehow, it was devoid of Danny's warmth and caring. This smile was hard, and cold as an Arctic winter. Danny sat up, began to reach for her, and then suddenly swung a fist hard to her temple. The last thing she saw before the darkness swept her away was the grim look of satisfaction on his face.
When Carol regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the sound of digging. She lay face down on the leaves and needles in the small clearing, still naked, with her hands and feet bound behind her. Her knees were bent so her hands and feet could be tied to each other. She turned her head to look for the source of the sound she had heard and groaned involuntarily as her bruised temple contacted the ground. The movement intensified a throbbing pain in her head that had been mostly unnoticed and could now scarcely be ignored.
Apparently, her groan also attracted some unwanted attention. She heard footsteps, and then saw a scratched and bloodied set of bare feet stop just in front of her face. She rolled her eyes to look up at the figure beside her.
"Danny?" she asked. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"
"Your Danny can't speak to you just now, although he is trying." It was Danny's voice, but the cadence and inflection were all wrong. The slow, stilted speech sounded almost like someone trying to learn a new language, but there was no discernible accent. "You won't be speaking to him for some time. I simply wanted you to see this, so the building terror can sweeten and empower that innocent blood of yours."
Danny bent to lift Carol and carried her to within a few feet of a new excavation in the center of the small clearing. He laid her down on the carpet of leaves and helped her rock back to a kneeling position with her feet tucked beneath her.
"What the hell are you doing? And if you're not Danny, who or what are you?" Carol eyed the freshly turned earth before her and added timidly, "Is that a grave?"
"Patience. You must have patience. All of your questions will be answered soon enough, though I doubt if you'll like the answers much." With that cryptic answer, Danny turned and stepped into the shallow excavation he had made in the clearing. He grabbed the pot that he was using for a shovel and began to dig feverishly once more. The earth was soft, and dirt seemed to fly from the hole.
Carol sat and considered her situation. Her most immediate concern was obviously her naked, and apparently possessed, boyfriend digging furiously in the clearing. The gray light of dawn was giving way to what looked to be a glorious, if slightly chilly, summer morning. She was naked and tied quite effectively. Their camping gear was all on the other side of the dig, so there seemed to be little hope of crawling to their packs to find something to free herself. Also, the couple had hiked at least a mile from the Trail to find this site, so the odds of a scream being heard were slim. Still it never hurt to try, right?
"Help! Somebody help me, please!"
The words were scarcely out of her mouth before Danny was out of the hole. He delivered a vicious slap to her face that split her lip and tumbled her onto her side.
"Shut your mouth, woman, or your agonies shall be worse than anything you have ever imagined."
"Why should I?" Carol spat back at him. "You're going to kill me anyway."
"There are worse things than death. Test my patience again, and you shall experience them all before I allow you to die. I have not waited through countless years only to be thwarted by such as you." Danny glared down at her for a moment. "Perhaps a lesson is needed. Certainly, you should be punished for the attempt." Without another word, he bent and pinched her left nipple loosely between his thumb and forefinger. "Would you like me to demonstrate, or do we understand one another?"
Carol was too groggy and terrified to reply. She simply whipped her head from side to side to indicate that a demonstration was not needed. Danny increased the pressure briefly before turning to resume digging, and a dull ache settled into Carol's breast in response to the abuse.
Carol lay trembling and tried to fight the rising panic within her. The conversation had confirmed her worst fears; Danny intended to kill her. She just could not understand what was happening. What exactly was wrong with Danny? What did he mean by "…countless years…?" And what was it he said about her blood? The entire situation was insane. One thing seemed certain. Her sweet and gentle boyfriend was no longer in control of his body. And just exactly why was he digging? Based on the amount of dirt around the excavation, it seemed like an excessive amount of work just for a grave.
The question of the reason for the dig was apparently about to be answered, since the sounds of digging had just changed from metal on earth to metal on stone. She heard Danny say, "Ah, there you are." This was followed by an evil chuckle that sent chills down her spine. The digging then began again, more vigorously than before.
All too soon, from Carol's perspective, the digging stopped again. She cringed as the pot, which had served briefly as a shovel, sailed out of the excavation to crash to the ground a few feet from her head. Her unintentional movement caused the ropes binding her hands and feet to tighten even more, and she bit her lip to stifle a cry caused by the pain of the ropes.
Carol saw Danny climb from the hole, and then heard him rummaging through their camping equipment on the far side of the hole. Soon, he climbed back into the hole carrying the rest of the rope from their packs. A few moments later, he climbed back out on Carol's side of the dig. She saw the gleam of his hunting knife in his hand and began to cry. Her tears brought a cold, cruel, satisfied smile to his face as he bent to cut the rope binding her hands to her feet. Danny picked her up and tossed her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then turned and carried her into the pit he had made in the center of the clearing.
Maraydel was well pleased with his progress so far. The body he was controlling was young and strong and had rapidly cleared the altar and freed his desiccated body from the earth that had held him captive for so long. The next part would be tricky, since his control would slip as sensation returned.
Maraydel's task would be simplified considerably by the slave's lack of knowledge and belief about his kind. Maraydel could hardly believe how completely knowledge of his race had been extinguished. From the mind of the young man under his control (the girl’s Danny, apparently), Maraydel had learned how little these people knew of the powers he possessed. Of greater importance, the fools had somehow forgotten even the most basic means to protect themselves from his powers. The plundering of these people would be delicious indeed.
Maraydel pulled himself from his musings. Before anything else, he must complete the ritual to return himself fully to the world. Maraydel, using Danny as an unwilling puppet, placed the girl on the altar. How delicious she looked, so sweet, helpless, and terrified. He wished it would not be necessary to kill her so he could sample her flesh as a man, but to restore him, all of her blood would be needed. Ah, well, there would be many, many others, once he was restored.
Quickly, Maraydel reviewed his preparations. The huge stone slab of the altar, approximately 9 feet by 4 feet, and nearly 12 inches thick, had been made fairly clear of dirt on top. The arcane designs on the surface of the slab had all been carefully cleared, as had the channels to carry the blood from the extremities to the large pentagram in the center. From each point of the pentagram, the blood would enter the outer circle and flow down through a hole in the slab to the dried-up body beneath. The rope had been used to fashion restraints that passed beneath the slab to hold the girl in place. There were loops for the hands and feet, as well as rope to bind her around the neck, hips, and knees. All was in order.
It was time to prepare the sacrifice. Maraydel's link to Danny had helped him to rapidly master the strange language of these people, so with no hesitation he relayed his instructions to her. "I'm going to free your hands, briefly. Don't try anything foolish if you want to remain conscious for your remaining time in this life. If you behave yourself, I may even restore you to your flesh in short order." The offer was genuine. It was well within his power to restore her, although she would be his slave and little more than a target for his lust. The girl had no need of that information, however.
Still using Danny as the vehicle of his consciousness, Maraydel cut the bonds on Carol's hands, and she meekly waited as he slipped each arm into the waiting restraint. Carol seemed to have retreated inside herself, as he had seen so many do before her when faced with their own inevitable demise. Next, he used Danny to quickly secure the ropes across her hips and throat, free and retie her feet, then bind the last rope across her knees. Maraydel forced Danny to step back from Carol to admire the sight of her young body bound naked before him. How strange that these women should remove all the hair from their bodies; yet it was certainly enticing. He decided that he would definitely restore her to life for his amusement, as soon as his return was comp
lete.
Maraydel then used Danny to check the preparations beneath the altar. His anger burned hotter because of the condition of his flesh. Little remained of the tall, proud man that he had once been. The robes of his order had long since rotted away, until little remained of them but a few tattered scraps of red cloth. The word flesh was hardly an accurate description, since all that remained of his flesh were a few shreds and flaps of muscles and sinew and a withered and blackened thing in his chest that must once have been a living, beating human heart. Danny's lips twisted into an evil smile as the thing controlling him realized that even the worms must have feared contact with that dark center of his soul.
Danny crawled beneath the altar so Maraydel could turn his attention to the most essential elements of his restoration, those items of power that his enemies had overlooked in their rush to erase all knowledge of the existence of his kind. His great medallion still lay upon his ribcage, where it had been hidden beneath his robes. The silver chain was still clasped behind the bones of his neck, though its links were now tarnished black from years in the earth. The medallion was exquisitely fashioned from silver in the form of a rattlesnake. The eyes were small, polished orbs of obsidian. The rattle had been cunningly crafted from turquoise. In its mouth, the serpent held a large quartz crystal. Bracelets of similar design encircled the bones of his wrists and ankles, although these bracelets were fashioned so the bodies of the serpents coiled around his limbs.
Maraydel was satisfied that everything was in order, but he was bitterly angry over the loss of his staff. Apparently, the little savages had sent the staff elsewhere, since it was certainly far beyond their power to destroy. The energy he had placed in the staff would have insured its immunity to the effects of time as well. He could fashion another but would much prefer finding the original since he was much stronger with his staff in hand. Well, there would be time enough for searching once he was fully restored to the world.