The boy was writhing as Keltrode began the incantation of an open summoning. At strategic points in the summoning, he walked back over to the boy and gave little yanks on the strip of skin, slowly peeling it further down the boy’s chest.
Despite the gruesome sight, Eril was even more appalled as he listened to the terms of Keltrode’s summoning. He was offering the extreme suffering of two boys, suffering so extreme that it would end in their deaths, after which the demon who accepted could consume their souls. It was every nightmare tale he had ever heard told about wizards, and here he was witnessing it. The bile rose in his throat and he knew he was going to be sick, he ran outside and heaved his guts until there was nothing left. Tears streamed down his face. He did not know when he had started crying, but he was not sure he could ever stop.
Eril staggered back into the tent. Gordal was still sitting in his place, his face pale and devoid of expression.
Eril spoke with a raspy voice. “Is this what you were afraid of, Gordal? Is this what you said should not be spoken of?”
“Yes,” Gordal said, moving his head to disengage from the sight. “Yes, this is what I feared. A fair like this provides unique opportunities for people like Keltrode. I am sorry that you had to see it.”
“I hate him! I can’t believe that he could do that to someone. Did you see his face? He loved what he was doing. He’s just like a demon.”
“You’re right, Eril. He is one of the reasons why people fear and hate most wizards now. Before demon magic became so prevalent, people looked up to and revered wizards. Now, it is all such a waste.”
“But why is he doing it? It still doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m afraid that it does. You see, A wizard like Keltrode lives for the pain, and the power in giving it. For him, it is like drink is for some men. He is trapped and can’t get enough of it. You were right when you said he had become like a demon, he only cares for the pain.”
“Can’t you do something to stop him?”
“Not now. You are stronger than me, Eril, and you could not hope to defeat the demon he summoned tonight. Anything we tried would only end in our deaths as well.”
“We can’t just sit here and watch!” Eril wailed, his tears flowing freely again.
“You are right about that. It is probably best if we don’t watch.”
“No. . . . No. I have to watch. Even if he doesn’t know I’m there, at least I can watch and be there for him.”
Gordal looked at Eril, who stared back defiantly.
“I think this is a bad idea, Eril.”
“Don’t try to stop me.”
“I won’t. I understand what you feel. I felt that way once too, but remember, you won’t be able to forget what you see. The more horrible it is, the more it will haunt your dreams and your days.”
“At least I’ll still have days. He won’t,” he said, gulping to hold back his tears. He had never felt so helpless. He so wanted to go and set that boy free, to save both boys, but knew that Gordal was right. If he went now, with a powerful demon in play, he’d just get himself killed, and then Keltrode would be able to keep torturing and killing more innocent kids.
Gordal nodded and settled back into his place as Eril resumed his seat.
What Eril saw scarred him for life. He saw that Keltrode had systematically peeled the skin off the boy and then had poured fluids on the raw flesh that made it burn. But he did not stop there. The horrors he committed on the boy's flesh were beyond description and all the while the huge demon hung near, growing brighter and brighter. The enormous man-like upper torso and mouth filled with fangs hung open in raptures of pleasure till, at the very end, the demon dipped down and bit off the boys head, fangs shearing flesh. Eril saw the life essence leave with the head.
In the meantime, the second boy had been brought in and prepared, like the first. He was not passive as he was stripped and strapped down, but it did him no good.
Keltrode and the demon left after the first boy was dead. The second boy was doomed to lie strapped down, staring at the headless body of the first boy for the hour of the performance.
When Keltrode and the demon returned, the second boy suffered a fate similar to the first, except that both Keltrode and the demon seemed to want to stretch it out even more, before the end.
Long before it was over, Eril had become numb. He had cried out all that he could. He ached for these two boys, neither of whom he had seen before. Even so, he felt worse for the death of these boys than he had felt at the death of his own parents.
These boys had done nothing wrong other than be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and they suffered more pain than a condemned murderer. Eril was sick from what he saw, and with his own powerlessness. He resolved that, somehow, he would make sure that Keltrode died, before he could do this again.
Chapter 9
Eril’s anger seethed like an immense bonfire. He was more furious at Keltrode and his actions than he had ever imagined he could be at anyone or anything. He felt he must do something to stop Keltrode, but what? Gordal was right, there was no way he could hope to take on a demon of the size and power of the ones Keltrode was summoning, so how could he make him pay?
That thought brought him around. He could do just that, he would make Keltrode pay for his own summoning. Eril had listened carefully to the terms of the contract Keltrode used. If for any reason, Keltrode was unable to deliver his promised sacrifice, the demon was free to select any other subject to fulfill the contract. This was the dangerous clause in any summoning contract, since demons relished the opportunity to get their reward and the soul of the mortal who, however temporarily, had them bound. Yes, Keltrode should pay.
The trick was to arrange it so that the summoning proceeded far enough along to bring the demon and start the binding, but not far enough for anybody to be killed, and to get the victims out, forcing Keltrode and his assistants to become the demon’s victims.
Eril had considered trying to attack the demon directly with his line-cutter but was more than a little leery of the power of the line-cutter. He knew it had scared off one demon, but he wasn’t sure it would have a similar effect here, and he really wasn’t sure how to use it against a demon if it came to that.
Eril and Gordal discussed the plan for hours. Gordal was against it from the start, but Eril would not back down. Only when Eril told Gordal about his line cutter and said that he would have it along in case anything went too far wrong, did Gordal relent.
§ § §
It was late afternoon, and Eril was tired, but so keyed up he could hardly stay still. He was dressed in rags and his hands were tied behind him. The leather slave collar he was wearing was tied to a post. Another younger boy was tied next to him.
Gordal had convinced the slave trader who had supplied Keltrode with two of his earlier victims that if he went along with their plan, he might just live to see the end of the fair. The trader had made Keltrode an offer of two for the price of one, and predictably, Keltrode had accepted.
The other boy was an eleven-year-old slave, named Biruell, who was ready to take his chances when Eril told him that, if they survived, he would be freed. Eril had made a point of telling the boy enough of the plan to know that he would have to endure a significant amount of torture before Eril would be able to free him.
Even knowing that he might be permanently disfigured, Biruell had thought the chance for freedom was worth the sacrifice. He had known one of the boys who had been killed the previous night and wanted to do anything to help take the evil wizard down.
They had gotten lucky, Keltrode had discussed his plans for the evening in the tent where Eril’s thread still hung. Keltrode decided to change the structure of the summoning with the first boy being killed after the show so that Keltrode could draw it out longer. Apparently, he felt the first had gone too quickly the night before, and he wanted to savor this last night.
That Keltrode wanted to enjoy the pain, as much as any demon, filled Eril with rage and chilled him
to his core. This, man, if he could be called that, lived in a reality that Eril could not comprehend, and for that he was grateful. Keltrode’s greed would be his undoing.
When Keltrode’s assistant came and took them to his camp, Biruell started acting just as Eril had told him he must. He was whining and struggling, making a fuss about everything, while Eril plodded along, not seeming to take much interest in anything. Eril was sure that acting out would guarantee that Biruell would be the first victim. By the time they were in the tent, there was no doubt that this part of the plan was working.
The assistant did not even bother asking Keltrode who should be first. He had Biruell stripped and tied in place when Keltrode came in to begin. Keltrode might have taken exception to his assistant’s presumption if he were not so obviously eager to begin on the young boy who desperately wanted to escape.
Keltrode put on his smock and began the summoning. Once he had opened the portal and made his initial announcement, he turned to the boy and held a flensing knife over him, and told him he would start by removing all the skin from his legs. Biruell screamed and thrashed, but Eril noted he did not try to kick his legs as Keltrode methodically began to carve into the skin above his ankles.
It took everything Eril possessed to just lie there and watch while Keltrode tortured the boy. He knew he had to wait, but the waiting felt nearly as bad as if Keltrode were torturing him. Fortunately, it did not take long before an enormous demon came through the portal.
Keltrode worked for a few more moments and then addressed himself to the demon. He used the exact same binding he had the previous night. Once the demon had agreed, he returned to skinning Biruell’s legs. He had worked halfway up the boy’s left thigh when a stagehand called to tell them it was time for Keltrode to go on. He quickly removed his smock, beckoned to the demon, and told his assistants to make sure that Biruell did not lose too much blood while he was performing.
As soon as Eril was sure that Keltrode was not coming back, he acted.
Using his zdrell, he brought a knife to him and cut through the ropes holding him to the table. He did it slowly so that no one would notice. The big assistant, Grall, was outside patrolling the area. The other two, Frislan and Durliss, were trying to staunch the blood oozing from Biruell’s wounds.
Without moving, Eril called the packet he had hidden just outside the tent to him. It contained his rings and amulets. He quickly pulled on the two rings and felt the rush of power and change of perception he always did; he had never welcomed it more.
The movement drew Durliss’s attention.
“Hey, what are you doing loose, nit?”
Eril did not hesitate. He had already decided that the two bigger assistants would have to die. He sent the knife that he had used to cut himself loose flying, it entered Durliss’ throat angling up into his brain. He fell dead with only a slight gurgle.
Frislan stared with a growing look of horror then ran for the door of the tent. Eril had expected that and hit him in the back of the head with a fist-sized rock he had placed earlier. Frislan crumpled without a sound.
“I hope I didn’t kill him,” Eril muttered as he hauled Frislan away from the door of the tent.
“Just one more, and then I’ll be able to help you,” he said to Biruell, as he waited beside the tent door.
It was not long until Grall poked his head in.
“What’s going on? I heard summ—" was all he got out before Eril pulled with his zdrell and flew him across the tent and hard into the ground. As he was trying to get up, Eril sent a knife flying into the back of his neck and another into his skull. He too died silently.
Eril then went over and got the last two items out of his bag, his amulets, and a jar of wizard’s healing salve. He immediately went about applying it to Biruell’s wounds and trying to put back the skin that had been removed. Thankfully, Keltrode was very meticulous and had kept the skin clean. Eril did the best he could and was just finishing up when he noticed Frislan stirring. He flew the still groggy man over to the table he had occupied and tied him down securely.
He had considered killing him as well, but Gordal had made a point that the demon would have two victims per the terms of the summoning, and it was best that Keltrode and one of his assistants be those two, otherwise, the demon might choose any innocent bystander. With Frislan secured, Eril wrapped up Biruell as best he could, invoked the invisibility amulet and flew them both to Gordal’s tent.
Eril wondered how long it would be before the demon discovered his sacrifices missing. Apparently, the demon checked sometime during the show, for Keltrode never got to finish it.
Eril did not see it but reports from the crowd were that halfway through the show a demon suddenly appeared and spoke to Keltrode. The demon then lifted Keltrode into the air and the audience, those who had not immediately fled, had watched in horror as Keltrode’s body was destroyed bit by bit. Finally, the demon had eaten what was left, though hardly anyone was there to see it by that time.
Eril did see the demon consume Frislan. He was back watching from Gordal’s tent by that time. The demon spent over half an hour killing him but still did not seem to derive much pleasure from it. In the end, the demon ate Frislan and had worn a disgusted expression as it left through the portal.
Chapter 10
Keltrode’s demise was the talk of the fair. There was every kind of speculation as to what had happened. When the news of just how Keltrode had been able to perform his feats circulated, the general consensus was that Keltrode got what he deserved, and some thought even that was not enough. Eril agreed with the latter group.
Eril had two immediate concerns, how to leave before people found out he was responsible for Keltrode’s fall, and what to do about Biruell. He had a good plan for leaving that Gordal had helped him with, even before the rescue, but he had not planned on Biruell.
The boy was doing very well considering all that he had been through. He was enjoying the idea of his freedom and the hospitality of Gordal’s tent, but he could not walk at all. Gordal was certain that in time his legs would heal well enough to walk, but he might never fully recover. Keltrode had destroyed much of the muscle in the left leg, though he had not had time to do such extensive damage to the right. Nevertheless, Eril felt obligated to help him. Freedom, for a cripple, was not much better than slavery.
Eril had enough money that he could leave Biruell behind with Gordal and pay for whatever expenses the boy would have while healing. It seemed the best thing to do, logically, but Eril was torn. He feared that if he left Biruell behind, demon wizards would find and torture him to find Eril.
Eril went to Carthic and told him he would be leaving the fair immediately, he wasn’t sure if Carthic suspected his involvement, but told him that he didn’t want to get inadvertently connected with any investigation into the wizard’s death. Carthic promised to get word to Master Silurian once the caravan had reached Shaharliss.
He waited a day before making his decision. He would take Biruell and leave that night. Gordal did not entirely agree, but also saw the wisdom of Eril’s method, if both Eril and Biruell were gone, there would be no one but Gordal who knew the truth of what happened, and Gordal felt confident in his ability to either mislead or confuse any questioners on the topic.
§ § §
They waited until well after dark, Eril led both his horse—Biruell sitting sidesaddle upon it—and his mule. They moved carefully so that they would not attract attention or be remembered leaving. No matter how he rode, Biruell was in pain, but Eril made him as comfortable as possible, trying to minimize the strain on his healing wounds.
They traveled half the night, then Eril took them into a copse of trees some fifty yards from the main path. There they bedded down and slept until mid-morning.
Originally, Eril had planned to travel with the caravan south through Chezney, following the river Shaharliss as it gradually curved west until it reached the sea at the capital city of Chezney, Shaharliss.
&
nbsp; After discussing his options with Gordal, Eril had decided to about-face and head northwest back into Ardalan, across the Ardellian plain and make for the Thirdir pass that separated Ardalan from Giltrup. That pass was not commonly used, as it was very high and closed early in the winter, but it was home to another renowned wizard, Dorull.
Eril had not originally planned on meeting Dorull this early in his journeying, because he had a reputation for being something of a hermit and not interested in apprentices or journeymen. He was reputed to have the largest collection of magical artifacts in the western continent. Eril hoped to learn more about making amulets from him and to be out of the public eye for some time. The one thing he knew was that Dorull hated demon wizardry even more than Master Silurian did. For now, that seemed a good reason to go there.
After three days of traveling at night, and resting in the day, Biruell’s legs were well enough healed that they could travel faster and without attracting attention, so they began traveling in the day.
Eril was surprised at how much faster they were able to cover ground than when he had been with the caravan. An average day’s travel took them three times the distance that the caravan had, though it was much more tiring. In just five days, they were riding up the steep winding path that led to the top of the Thirdir pass.
Chapter 11
Thirdir Pass, border of Ardalan
The sun had just set as they rounded the last switchback and emerged into the pass itself. The castle which guarded the pass was narrow and tall, made of a black stone it seemed to suck the light from the rocky hillside about it. Eril felt the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end, and it was not just from the evening chill in the pass.
The gates of the castle were closed, as they rode up to them.
Eril yelled, “Hallo, the castle. Is there anyone to let us in?” The only answer was silence. He felt certain that he was being observed, but there was no response.
Eril yelled again and was still greeted by nothing but the wind. Though he did not like the idea of sleeping in the open of the wind-swept pass, Eril was now worrying that they might have to do it.
The Journeyman for Zdrell Page 5