Andrew Tremont was in the feast hall, preparing to sit down for dinner. After I killed most of the others, which was nearly everyone being served, I turned to him. I had left the palace servants and maids unharmed, but they would have quite a shock when the enchantment ended.
Tremont was standing, with a frozen half-smile on his corpulent face. Looking on him, I felt a burning hatred that seemed to be echoed by my inner voice. If anyone deserves to die today, this one deserves it more than all the others combined.
The bubble of normal time around me would free my victims once I had approached to within a couple of feet of them. I moved close and watched with enjoyment as Tremont became aware of me, but I didn’t kill him—yet. His face cycled through a gamut of different emotions—surprise, shock, anger, and then fear. I liked the last one most of all.
“Did you miss me, Andrew?”
He was nearly unable to speak. While I had divested myself of the majority of my power when empowering the enchantment around the city, I had gained almost another full Celior in strength from drawing the life out of so many healthy people. The pressure of that much concentrated aythar right next to him nearly crushed his will instantly. It was the same effect I had encountered so many times in the past when facing the Shining Gods.
I didn’t bother trying to shield myself or dampen the effect at all. I wanted him to despair.
“How?” he managed to stammer.
“Did you think Mal’goroth was going to protect you? You’re just a toy to him, a plaything. He’ll gain just as much pleasure from hearing of your slow death as I will gain while giving it to you,” I taunted, whispering in his ear. I was careful not to touch, lest I inadvertently kill him.
“But you’re dead…”
I suppressed the urge to laugh. “I am dead, or more appropriately I am death. Unfortunately for you, I still have a considerable grudge against you, and your actions of late have not endeared you to me. In fact, I think I might hate you even more than Mal’goroth.”
His face twisted into a defiant grimace, which I hadn’t expected. Apparently Tremont was made of stiffer stuff than I had thought. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with. I’d rather not listen to your whining drivel,” he replied.
“Your wish is my command, Majesty,” I answered sarcastically, “but it will not be quick or easy.”
Andrew Tremont attempted to spit then, but his mouth had gone dry from fear. “You haven’t got the guts, boy. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re too craven to torture anyone.”
“You really are a sick bastard,” I told him, “to think that cowardice and torture have anything to do with one another. It’s quite the opposite really. My conscience thinks you should die swiftly, painlessly, for justice and nothing more, but I don’t care what my conscience says anymore. Today I’m making a special exception. I’m going to lower myself to your level.” Finishing that sentence, I used a tiny bit of aythar to remove one of his thumbnails, ripping it free with little more than a thought.
He screamed and I smiled, although somewhere, far away, I felt a sickening twist in my stomach. I ignored it, and began removing the other nails, one by one.
That task took less than two or three minutes, even including the toes, and I realized I would have to be a lot more creative if I didn’t want things to end too quickly. I decided to burn his digits off, one by one. Fire had the added bonus of cauterizing as well, preventing the blood loss that might otherwise speed things up.
No, that’s enough, came the annoying voice from within. No one deserves to die like that.
I paid my conscience no heed, and soon my head was swimming with cries for mercy and forgiveness. After a time I began to have trouble telling which ones originated with Tremont, and which ones came from within. Two men were crying, one in front of me, and one inside. I laughed and tortured them both.
It went on for over an hour, and by the end, the room was filled with the stench of burnt flesh and voided bowels. My inner voice went silent at some point, though I could still feel its sickened revulsion at my actions. I danced over the messy remains of Andrew Tremont.
“You can all go straight to hell,” I told the immobile servants in the great hall. They couldn’t hear or see me, which made the statement rather unsatisfying, but I decided I didn’t really care.
I left the palace in high spirits.
Chapter 35
Gareth Gaelyn flew on outstretched wings, circling over Castle Cameron. The world below stretched out to the horizon, but his keen eyes could easily discern even the smallest of details below. The castle was occupied, but not by its rightful occupants. The soldiers manning its walls wore no livery at all, and here and there among them were creatures that bore an uncanny resemblance to the ones Gareth had seen at the father-tree. Creatures possessed of considerable aythar.
They look like Kriteck. Could these be related to the Dark Gods?
Unsure, he determined not to fly closer than he was, keeping a range of several miles. In the distance to the west he could see several small dots. They were so far away that they were over the gulf. Which means they’re pretty large for me to see them at this range. What could be flying this way that is that big?
Gareth had more questions than answers, but he was certain that things would get much more interesting in the region of Cameron Castle very soon. He had flown from his hiding place near Albamarl the night before, hoping to find someone to warn. Moira had previously sent him a message that they were leaving, broadcasting her thoughts as far as possible, but he hadn’t replied. He had been deep in thought, considering his own situation.
Now he hoped to find her, and with her the others, to share what he had seen, but all he could discover were more enemies.
A familiar voice echoed in his mind. I saw you fly over. It was Moira Centyr.
Where are you?
There was a long pause, and then her thoughts came to him again. In the forest, midway between Cameron and Arundel. Draw closer and I’ll send you a mental image when you are near.
You are with the Prathions? questioned Gareth.
Another pause and then, yes.
The dragon shifted direction to a more westerly course, in the direction that Moira had indicated. As he did, he flew lower, forsaking the view for the obscurity of the air just above the tree tops. Despite this effort to remain unseen, he soon spotted what appeared to be a winged man closing rapidly on him.
This is going to be one of those days, thought Gareth. Lately it seemed he had been involved in the lives and activities of far too many other beings. It was thoroughly against the grain of his dragon nature. He wanted only to be left alone, and yet, somehow he found himself continually drawn into the world and its affairs.
He didn’t bother trying to avoid the encounter. Whatever was heading for him possessed a large store of aythar, and within a moment, it was close enough that he could identify it. Karenth, he said to himself.
Within minutes, the former god of justice had pulled up abreast of him in the air and sent a mental greeting. Permission to come aboard? The thought came with an implied smile.
Gareth fought down the irritation that the question immediately raised within him. Over the past weeks he had become some sort of ferry service for Mordecai and his friends, but he’d be damned before he let himself get used to it. If you think you must, he returned with a mental growl.
Karenth settled himself onto the flying dragon’s shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world. I could get used to this, sent the god.
Only if you think you could get used to being torn in half and eaten as well, returned the dragon.
You seem to be in a poor mood, as usual, responded Karenth. You should cheer up. I have good news for our side.
I am my own side, said the dragon automatically.
Don’t play coy, thought the god. You can no longer claim that, else you wouldn’t be here.
The dragon didn’t bother replying. He had
no good argument, which only made him angrier.
I met with Mordecai a day and a half ago. He has taken control of my fellow gods, Millicenth and Doron. He also sends word of new allies.
Save your words for the others. I would rather not have to listen to you talk twice, answered Gareth.
You aren’t listening now. We’re speaking mind to mind.
Gareth suppressed the urge to express his annoyance with a jet of flame. No need to make his position easier to spot. Your thoughts are just as vexing as your irritating voice.
Karenth shut up after that, and they flew onward in silence, until eventually Moira contacted him again and guided them down to the southern edge of their hidden camp in the thick wood.
The area that they landed in seemed to be utterly devoid of any humans, but both Karenth and Gareth knew better than to expect to see them. Following Moira’s small steps, they traveled another fifty feet on foot before the world changed around them, as though they had stepped through a curtain. They were in a wide meadow now, packed with men, women, and children. There were no fires, for the smoke would have ruined the effectiveness of Walter’s illusion.
“I must admit to being impressed,” said Karenth aloud. “I would never have credited a human with the skill to create such an artful veil to hide so many companions.” He stared around him as though taking in the view with new eyes.
“I’m not sure I like your tone,” said Elaine Prathion, appearing as if from nothing. “Why have you brought this creature with you?” she asked, turning her attention to the dragon.
“Do not speak to me as your friend,” growled Gareth. “I am here for my own reasons. This thing followed me of his own accord, but I did not attempt to dissuade him. I believe he is in the service of your former mentor.”
“Try to be civil, Gareth,” admonished Moira Centyr. “We do not have enough allies to drive wedges between each other with harsh words.”
Gareth closed his toothy mouth and refrained from offering anymore biting remarks.
Ariadne approached them now, moving with confident grace. “I am hopeful you bring good news, Sir Dragon.” Her eyes went from Gareth and then to Karenth.
“My news is neither good nor ill, Princess,” said the Dragon. “But it should be of concern, for it could possibly herald the destruction of most of Lothion.”
The Queen of Lothion blanched at his suggestion. At the same time Moira leaned in to whisper something in Gareth’s ear.
“My pardon, Your Majesty,” added the dragon. “I was unaware of the news regarding your brother.”
She waved her hands as if to hurry him along from the unpleasant subject. “Please continue, I would rather not dwell upon my family’s tragedies at present.”
“Very well,” he responded quickly. “I spent the last few days at rest, watching the city of Albamarl, when I saw something most alarming occur yester eve. Just as the sun went down the city was encased in the largest stasis field I have ever witnessed.”
“What does this mean?” asked the Queen.
“Such a thing can only be accomplished using a most rare and exceedingly complex enchantment; one that I believe only Mordecai to be currently capable of crafting. I have seen him do something similar, on a much smaller scale, no more than a week ago. I fear that he has done the same with your city,” explained the archmage/dragon.
“I am not well versed in the magical arts,” began Ariadne, “but if I remember correctly, a ‘stasis’ spell can only freeze things in time. Is that not correct? What could his goal be with this, and how do you think it could be dangerous?”
“Enchantment, Your Majesty,” corrected Gareth. “A spell could not accomplish this.”
“Enchantment then,” she replied impatiently. “Get to the point.”
“He has developed a method for moving and acting within the stasis field, while whoever else is there is helpless. He probably is using it to further his grievance against Tremont,” started Gareth.
“That sounds promising,” interrupted the Queen.
The dragon sighed, a much less subtle signal when done by such a large creature. “The greater danger lies in the amount of power required to create this enchantment. A small one, like those created in my day, required a vast expenditure of aythar to charge them during their making. The larger the final enchantment, the greater the energy needed. The power input necessary rises at an exponential rate that corresponds to the cubic expansion of the volume to be included.”
Ariadne was no stranger to math, but her education into the topic had stayed mostly in the realm of the more practical applications of arithmetic as they applied to bookkeeping and governance. “I am not certain of all your terms, but I gather you feel the amount of aythar necessary to be rather drastic?” she questioned him.
“Drastic is putting it mildly, Your Majesty,” said Gareth. “When Moira destroyed Balinthor in our time, the energy released destroyed a nation and created the gulf we now call the Gulf of Garulon. The amount of power Mordecai must have used to create this enchantment would be more than twice that.”
“You imply that he will misstep and create a much greater swath of destruction,” observed the Queen.
“He does not even have to make a mistake,” answered Gareth. “The problem lies in the vessels he is using to channel and control that much power. They have to be able to withstand the force of that much concentrated aythar. If he exceeds their capacity they will fail, and the result will be similar to the iron bombs he has used so successfully in the past, only on a much larger scale.”
“Is it not possible that he has chosen something able to withstand the stresses?” she asked.
“I could not begin to guess what material would be up to such an extreme task. That he has something remarkable is evidenced by the fact that we are still here, but whatever it is, it cannot endure that much power indefinitely,” said the dragon.
“So you have come to warn us? It sounds as if the danger has already passed,” Ariadne observed.
“I came to escape the danger. The warning was merely a favor,” answered the dragon in a surly tone.
Moira Centyr gave him a disapproving glare, and Ariadne couldn’t help but wonder if they were having a second, silent conversation.
Karenth broke in at that point and saved her from pursuing the thought further. “While the dragon’s news is pessimistic, I think you’ll find mine rather more encouraging.”
The new queen let out the breath she had been holding with relief. Only then was she aware of how tense she had become. “Good news would be welcome. We have had little enough of late.”
“First I would like to mention, if Mordecai’s plan in Albamarl has gone without any difficulties, then the capital is free. While he did not give me the full details, I know he intended to rid the city of the usurper and his allies. We cannot disregard this good news,” Karenth told the young queen. “Also, he instructed me to present myself here and submit myself and my fellow gods into your service.”
“Fellow gods?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. As with me, Mordecai has bound both Millicenth and Doron to his will. Before separating to prepare for Albamarl, he instructed us to find you and aid you in whatever manner we could,” the god informed her.
Something flickered across Ariadne’s face, an emotion suddenly felt and quickly subdued, the possibility of hope. “Where are your fellows then?” she asked.
“Searching the vale, as I was, for some sign of you and your people. Once we have finished I will leave and fetch them to your side,” said Karenth immediately.
“Though I find myself mistrustful of you and your ilk, I yet find hope in your words,” said the queen.
“There is yet more,” said the shining god. “As the good dragon here can attest, on the horizon there approaches a mighty host of strange beings. Mordecai was successful in restoring the She’Har, and they are sending their servants, the Kriteck, to aid you in your battle.”
“Is this true?” she asked
, turning to Gareth.
“They were too far away for me to be sure of their nature, but they match what I already know, and they were coming from the proper direction,” said the dragon.
“I know little of the She’Har. As with most of you, I had always been taught that their race was long extinct. Do you know anything of these ‘Kriteck’?”
Moira Centyr stepped forward then, “Your Majesty, I was with Mordecai and Gareth when he first met with them. The Kriteck, as I understand them, are the sterile progeny of the father-tree. They live but a span of a few months and they only exist to protect the She’Har. They come in myriad shapes and forms, according to the will of the father-tree that grew them. Some of them are powerful magic-users, while others are designed as fierce warriors. The powerful remnants of the Dark Gods, which you have faced recently, were probably created from the Kriteck of antiquity.”
Ariadne took a moment to digest the information before asking a new question, “Can we trust them?”
Moira shook her head negatively, “Probably not, Your Majesty, but they owe Mordecai a great debt. The question should probably be, dare we trust him?”
“By that logic we should say the same of the Shining Gods,” inferred the young queen.
“Absolutely,” agreed Moira Centyr.
Karenth spoke again, “You should also know, Your Majesty, that Mordecai instructed them to place themselves at the disposal of either you or the Countess. They will answer to no one else.”
“Then I suppose I had better meet them,” said Ariadne. “Gareth, would you be willing to provide me with transportation?”
The dragon made an odd noise. It sounded like the beginning of a growl, but Moira glanced sharply at him, and it cut off suddenly. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Your Majesty,” he replied after a minute.
Chapter 36
With a word and a thought, I released the enchantment that held Albamarl in my perfect, timeless moment. The tension in the air vanished, and the world snapped back into motion while I drew the aythar back from the diamond cubes of the enchantment and returned it to its proper home—me.