He yelled one more time, and finally, they heard movement from within. A window shutter in one of the gate towers opened and a voice called down.
“What do you want? This is no inn, and we have no need of strangers in the night.”
“Uh, isn’t this the home of the mighty wizard, Dorull?”
“Mighty wizard? We have no need of pointless flattery either. Master Dorull does live here, but his desire for solitude is well known. Go away,” the man said, beginning to close the shutter.
Eril knew he had to act fast. “I have magical artifacts that I would have Master Dorull examine. I doubt that he has seen their like before.” Eril was hoping that his brash claim would be enough, but not too much. It did appear to be working; the shutter was still open.
“You have artifacts? How do you know they are magical?”
“I am a journeyman wizard, and Master Silurian of Salaways himself said they were.”
“You know Silurian? All right, you can come in, but you had better not be lying or you will see just how unhappy a wizard can be.”
The shutter closed and few moments later, a concealed door beside the main gate opened. The man beckoned and Eril led his mule and horse one at a time through the doorway. It was obviously constructed so that it would admit one, and only one mounted man at a time into the castle. As they came through the entranceway, they saw soldiers on either side with weapons drawn, examining them, though they made no move to interfere.
The man, who still had not introduced himself, led Eril and Biruell to the stables where they began to unsaddle their mounts, the man pointed at Biruell and asked, “Who is this, an apprentice?”
“No,” Eril hesitated. He had not thought how to explain his relationship to Biruell.
Biruell came to his rescue. “I’m his servant.”
The man’s eyebrows rose with incredulity. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all.” He muttered to himself. “A journeyman who looks more like an apprentice, and with a servant no less. What next?”
Eril said nothing, working hard to appear nonplussed. The man started to walk off, and said over his shoulder, “Since he’s your servant, I’m sure he’ll take care of your animals for you, and afterward see the guards about some food. You come with me and make sure you have whatever relics you claim with you, or you’ll wish I never opened that gate for you.”
Eril followed his guide across the courtyard, past several loitering soldiers, and into the dark main keep. As they entered a new room, Eril saw an ancient looking man, he was thin and his skin was wrinkled and papery, long unkempt white hair flowed down past his shoulders. The look was accentuated by the light of the candelabra set on the table. He occupied the only chair in the room.
The whole time Eril walked towards him, the old wizard’s dark luminous eyes were studying him. Just as he reached the table, Master Dorull dropped his gaze.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” He gave Eril no time to respond. “What are these magical artifacts you have that I would never have seen before?”
Eril drew a breath, trying to decide which question to answer first. “Master Dorull, I am a journeyman wizard, known as Eril. I was an apprentice under Master Silurian. I came here because you are said to have the largest collection of magical artifacts in the western continent, and I wished to learn of them from you.”
“Where are the artifacts, boy?”
Eril took off his power ring and handed it to him. Master Dorull examined it closely, then closed his eyes for a moment while he held it in his hands.
“And the others?”
Eril reached for the thong that held his concealing amulet around his neck. He pulled it out, opened it and placed it and the two rings it contained on the table. When Dorull’s eyes caught the line cutter, he sucked in a breath and then carefully turned the ring over in his hands.
“Do you have any idea what this is, boy?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, his hands shaking.
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it? Did Silurian give it to you?” He was staring with even more intensity at Eril.
“I made it.”
“What did you say?” he rasped incredulously. His eyes never left Eril’s.
“Yes. I made it.”
“Impossible. You would have to be a jeweler and zdrell master to have made this.”
“I am both. It was Master Silurian’s idea that I study both areas.”
Master Dorull sat back in his chair. From the expressions that played across his face, Eril could see that Master Dorull doubted Eril’s words, but could not disbelieve the evidence in his hands. For moments he struggled, and then he suddenly seemed to remember something, and he looked back at Eril with new curiosity.
“So, you must be the one?”
Now Eril was puzzled. “The one, what?”
“Silurian told me some time ago that he had come across something that he thought might really put the demons and their handlers off their stuff. I thought he was just being cryptic to build up my hopes, but now I see what he meant. You’re the one, the one the demons are going to regret.
“Here you are, and you have a line cutter. You know I recognized it instantly, but I’ve never seen one before. The demons spent quite a lot of time and effort to find and destroy the last of them. Now you have one, and you say you made it yourself, which means you can make others. Oh yes, you are going to make the demons and their users, most unhappy.” He chuckled mirthlessly, “If you live long enough.” He sat looking at Eril with a crooked smile. After a moment he looked down.
“I suppose that you made these other items too?” he gestured.
Eril nodded.
Dorull snorted. “Amazing. I recognize the first ring and the box amulet as well, but I can’t place the third ring,” he said as he turned it over, examining it closely. “What is it?”
“I call it the master ring,” Eril said. “It works purely by zdrell, but I think it is the most powerful of the rings, even more powerful than the line cutter.”
“Hmm,” the old wizard said, putting down the ring. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, right now. So, what is it you really want?”
“Just what I said before.”
“Boy, you must be daft, or you think I am. I collect and study magical artifacts. I try to figure out what some of the ancient ones do or did do when they worked. I write things down and I study. I don’t make artifacts! I only collect them. What could I teach you?”
“I’m sure there is much that you could teach me, Master. I have only studied with Master Silurian and one other wizard. Master Silurian once told me that he felt quite out of his element when working with artifacts.”
“He said that, did he?” The old wizard leaned back chuckling dryly. He gazed over Eril’s shoulder, seeming to see beyond the room.
“Old Silurian may claim to be out his element with artifacts, but make no mistake, boy, there are no more than four or five wizards on this continent who can claim to know them better. He was always better than me at initially identifying an artifact. I’m simply much more persistent, and I enjoy trying to puzzle out the creations of our ancestors. Silurian only wanted to study past things to find out how to replicate them and move forward, to duplicate or surpass them. I have somewhat more modest ambitions.” Master Dorull’s gaze returned to Eril. “I’m sure he was most pleased with you,” he said, pointing at Eril.
The old man looked down for a moment, pursed his wrinkled lips and looked up. “So, you may stay. I have always wanted to see a zdrell artifact being created from the beginning.” He raised one side of his mouth in a half smile. “I may even have something to teach you, though I doubt it.”
“Thank you, Master,” Eril said in a rush. He suddenly realized he had hardly breathed while he waited for Dorull to make his decision. “I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from you. Thank you.”
“Enough, boy! I’ll have no simpering around here.” He grunted. “That’s why I always hated having apprenti
ces, even less journeymen around. Always putting on the humble face, and then talking behind your back. Bah! I’m too old and have seen too much to want any of that, ‘oh great master,’ folderol. You’ll work and talk to me straight, or you’ll be gone.” He glared at Eril. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s better. Now since you’ve shown me your items, I suppose I should show you a few of mine.” He rose from the table and waved Eril towards another room.
Chapter 12
Beginning that evening, and following into the next day, Eril saw more magical artifacts than he had imagined existed in the whole world. Dorull showed Eril amulets, bracers, rings, necklaces, brooches, staves, stones, armor and weapons, so many things, so many different uses and types of magic. Few of the items functioned at their original strength, and many did not function at all, but every one fascinated Eril. He understood why Dorull spent his life studying them, Eril too felt the pull to do nothing else.
When Eril finally arrived late that night in the room Dorull had assigned him, Biruell, who Eril had thought was sleeping in the servant’s quarters poked his head in and said, “Do you think the wizard is going to let us stay?”
“Yeah, Biruell, I’m pretty sure he will.”
“That’s good, cause the guards and servants say he usually throws out visiting wizards. There’s hardly anyone here except a cook, the steward and three servants, and all the soldiers. The master wizard is a real grump, they all say.”
“Well, I think he isn’t going to be such a grump to me. He really liked the stuff I showed him, and he liked that I care about his stuff even more. No, I think we’ll be able to stay for at least a few weeks, maybe longer. Who knows?”
“Great. I was so afraid after what Master Gill, the steward, said. And you’re not mad that I said I was your servant? Right?”
“No. I’m not mad. In fact, you did us both a favor there. I didn’t know how I was going to explain why you’re traveling with me.”
“Ok, I’m glad you’re not mad. And I hope you won’t be mad but I told them it was bandits who messed up my legs?” He looked so small and vulnerable when he said it.
“No, Biruell. I’m not mad. That’s as good a story as any, and I’m glad you told me so that we’ll be able to agree on it. Now, I’m so tired. I’ve got to get some sleep,” he said starting to pull off his boots.
“Ok. Thanks, Eril. I’ll find out everything I can for you, and I’ll be the best servant ever. You saved me.” The boy turned and went into his bedchamber before Eril’s sluggish mind could react. He just nodded, got into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 13
Grimor
The wizard’s two assistants finished securing the naked man so that he was suspended horizontally, face-down, his arms and legs stretched out painfully. The ropes held him about four feet above the floor. A small table was then slid underneath his body so that his weight was partially supported by it.
Grand Ruler Jelnick stood back and inspected the man, nodded in satisfaction and began chanting the portal opening spell to the demon world. It took only seconds as he had done it tens of thousands of times and required virtually no conscious effort now.
Once the portal opened, he chanted the offer that could bring him a demon lord as no ordinary demon would do for task he was undertaking. Moments passed before one of the more powerful demons Jelnick was familiar with passed through the portal. Its red glowing upper body that of a huge muscular man who would have been over ten feet tall were he human. It had no lower torso but instead inverted flames that narrowed to nearly a point. That point then became a line which stretched back through the now minuscule portal.
The wizard deftly spoke the demon tongue spelling out the terms of the contract. The demon lord paused, appearing to consider it, then still saying nothing, nodded in assent.
Jelnick looked to his two assistants, each of whom was wielding a tine knife, and said, “Begin. Do not go too slowly, but make sure the demon receives his full due of pain, without killing him. Try to mark all the skin. Leave out nothing.”
The assistant wizards moved forward with their knives. One began using the many razor-sharp tines of his knife to slice into the surface of the bound man’s left hand, while the other began his cuts at the right foot. The cuts were quite shallow, but both these wizards were long practiced at making them as painful as possible. Within seconds the bound man was screaming, though the screams were ignored by everyone in the room. He writhed and thrashed helpless to escape his bonds.
As the blood from hundreds and then thousands of shallow cuts dripped onto the stone floor, the wizards continued to inflict more and more pain on the man as they worked from is arms and legs towards his torso. Meanwhile Jelnick looked on dispassionately and the demon floating in the air above the gruesome scene glowed brighter and brighter as its fanged mouth parted slowly in an expression of ecstasy.
The two wizards worked methodically until their twin tracks of cuts came together at the small of the man’s back. They had covered his entire backside from fingertip to soles of the feet with cuts, everything but his shaved head.
They paused to ensure they had not missed a spot and looked to Jelnick. He then paced past the man making his own inspection. Once satisfied, he nodded to the one mage who was now holding up a very large amber bottle. He removed the cork from the bottle and began to dribble the contents over the man’s lacerations.
The man shrieked till his voice was breaking, spasming in unbearable pain.
The wizard took no notice and slowly doused every cut. As he did so, the skin sizzled and foamed, the blood consumed by the chemical reaction, smoke rose from the body where the liquid ran. The wizard did not stop until he had covered every minute wound.
The two assistant wizards then removed the table under the whimpering man and began to manipulate the ropes until he flipped so that he was now suspended face up.
The table was slid once again beneath his body, to renewed screaming by the man as it rasped against his cut and burned flesh. The man began to scream and plead for the wizards to stop, that he couldn’t take it any longer, as the wizards advanced again with their tine knives to repeat the same process they had already visited on his back. They paid him no mind as they continued their bloody work.
He screamed and thrashed less this time as he didn’t have the strength left to resist, the only part of his front side not touched was his head and genitals.
After he was again doused with the burning chemicals, the man lay gasping in short breaths, only an incoherent mewling escaping his lips.
Once again, Jelnick inspected the wreck of the man’s flesh and nodded in satisfaction.
“Now do his head,” he said pointing, “You’ll need to be quick about it. We don’t want him to pass out before you hit him with the solution.”
The wizard advanced with a smaller tine knife, and gleefully cut artfully around the man’s neck, face, and scalp. As soon as he finished the other wizard poured more of the solution over the quivering victim. The pain appeared to be so much now that he was very near losing consciousness. But they weren’t done yet.
The demon floated above the scene, now glowing so brightly that looking at him was as painful as staring into the noonday sun. The two wizards advanced on the barely conscious man each armed with leather bound staves and began to beat him. With nearly every stroke bone could be heard to break. The man barely seemed to register it.
As the man slipped fully from consciousness, his breathing becoming labored, Jelnick spoke to the demon. “He is ready,” he said gesturing to the man who was now moments from death. “Do your part.”
The incandescent demon lowered itself to just above the dying man and extended a taloned hand above his chest. Bright orange energy blossomed from the hand and enveloped the convulsing man. For several moments the form of the man was obscured by the glow that surrounded him. The ropes holding the man suspended ignited and quickly burned away. The table be
gan to smoke. He slumped onto the table and then rolled onto the floor. The demon withdrew his hand and the fiery energy diminished and then disappeared, leaving the man in a heap.
The demon, whose glow had diminished considerably faced Jelnick and intoned, “Our bargain is complete.” It then gestured at the rapidly growing portal and disappeared through it.
The man lying on the floor began to stir. His visage was remarkably changed. His skin was now the color of soot and the texture of leather. It had an almost reptilian cast and had ridges where the tines of the knives had cut it.
Where before he had been a large well-built man in his early thirties, he now had musculature which rivaled that of the departed demon. The muscles though not inordinately large were very sharply defined and looked more distinct than should be possible.
The man stood slowly and spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “I still hurt.”
“Yes,” Jelnic replied, “you will for some days, but pain will not affect your ability to move or act.”
Jelnick waved at the still smoking table, “Pick that up and break it in half. You’ll see what I mean.”
The man grasped the table, it was made of two eight inch thick logs covered in planks and supported by four legs, each at least five inches thick. He rapidly pulled two of the legs together. Both snapped as if they were matchsticks. He then grabbed either end of one of the eight-inch logs and flexed. The wood splintered with a mighty crack and broke away from the planks. He threw the remains of the table away and turned to Jelnick.
“You were right about the strength. I feel as if I could do the same to both those logs.” He stopped and looked around the room. “Where did your two assistants go?”
“They have left,” Jelnick said, gesturing vaguely, “I find it is usually best if they are not around after one of their ‘subjects’ recovers.” He smiled, sourly.
“I can see why,” he growled. “I hurt, but I feel strong—and fast,” he dashed the length of the long room and back, almost faster than the eye could follow.
The Journeyman for Zdrell Page 6