Chapter 43
Rwiordes wished he could close his
eyes. He could not. He was forced to watch silently on as his
hands touched the young druidess’ face. The
Demon was enjoying this moment with sadistic pleasure. He caressed Brythia’s cheek, and then gripped
her firmly just below her eye socket.
The Demon stared into her eyes.
Rwiordes was filled with admiration for the true courage in her
stare. Of course, she was
terrified. Yet, there was, in the depths
of her eyes, a determination to endure whatever torture the fiend could throw
at her. Rwiordes knew that he had never
faced the Demon in such a way.
The Demon gradually increased the
pressure Rwiordes’ fingers applied to Brythia’s eyes. Rwiordes noticed something moving just on the
edge of his peripheral vision, a dark shape climbing the stairwell. The dying panther was coming towards
them. The Demon did not appear to notice
it. Rwiordes was amazed that the Demon
showed no signs of perceiving the big black cat. Could the fiend be so focused upon his
victim, as to be unaware of the encroaching feline. That did not even seem to be the explanation. It was more like part of the Demon’s mind was
elsewhere concentrating on some other task.
The panther climbed a little closer to them and stared up at him. There was an intelligence in that stare. Then he got dizzy.
His hands jerked away from the nature
priestess’s face. Rwiordes felt an
astonished look come over his face. A
black rage boiled in the chaos of the Demon’s wrath. Confusion.
A doubt poured through the Demon’s confident exterior for the first
time. Rwiordes thought he could detect
a trace of fear in the fiend’s mental armor.
Clearly, the Demon could not comprehend what was happening. Neither, for that matter, could Rwiordes, but
for him the surprise was a pleasant one.
Rwiordes’ legs stepped back away from
Brythia. Wonder spread across the
golden-hair druidess’ countenance. A
smile curled on her lips as a new hope dawned.
The druidess had a clearer conception of what was taking place than
Rwiordes or the Demon did.
“How long can you hold him?” She asked, directing her question to
Rwiordes.
“Not long,” the possessed man’s lips
responded. “Something has happened; the
Demon’s getting stronger suddenly. You
had better run. Now.”
Brythia did not wait. She dashed down the dimly lit hallway with
impressive speed. Rwiordes watched her
place as much distance between them as she possibly could.
A cold shiver ran up Rwiordes
spine. He began to shake violently. An intense sensation, somewhere between a
pleasurable tingling and a jabbing pain, erupted through every fiber of his
body. His muscles spasmed with great agitation.
“Who dares!” The Demon’s hiss again
passed through Rwiordes lips.
Rwiordes’ head twisted and his mouth
issued words painfully, “Just a little surprise.”
Rwiordes understood. There was a battle taking place for control
of his body between the Demon and some other outside force. The new presence was fighting the Demon
violently, but the tide was quickly turning against it. The evil blackness of the Demon’s personality
was searching for the new presence in the depths of Rwiordes’ mind.
Suddenly the pain stopped. Rwiordes turned and ran down the corridor
after Brythia with a speed only achievable by the Demon’s supernatural
ability. It took only a moment for
Rwiordes to catch up with the fleeing druidess.
She pressed up against the stone wall in revulsion. The Demon placed his hand firmly on Brythia’s
shoulder.
“Will you druids never learn?” he
questioned.
“We will use every resource we
possess to stop you,” she answered defiantly.
“You have nothing that can stop
me. Now, let’s see, where were we?”
Even though he was forced to stare helplessly
on as the Demon used his body to torment Brythia, Rwiordes found himself
distracted. Somewhere in a tiny corner
of his mind, someone was talking to him.
“Rwiordes,” the voice said, “can you
hear me?”
It was a female voice.
“Yes, I can hear you,” Rwiordes replied
using telepathy. “But how are we
talking? Where are you?”
“I’m here, in your mind. I’m hiding from him.”
“I understand that. But how?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time for
explanations at the moment. You’re going
to have to try and help me delay the Demon until help arrives.”
“You can’t be serious?” Rwiordes speaking
with telepathy again. “How can I help
anyone? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m
being demonically possessed at the moment.
In fact for all I know, you could be the Demon toying with me. Or perhaps I’ve gone completely mad."
“I am not the Demon, you are not mad,
and if you just try and do as I ask, you can still exercise some control over
your body,” replied the voice.
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you. By the way my name is Kilfrie. Now, just do as I tell you, and watch what
happens.”
The Demon appeared to have no concept
that Rwiordes was having a mental conversation with Kilfrie. His diabolical attention was focused solely
on Brythia for the moment. He was
licking the poor woman’s face. His hand
approached her eye menacingly again.
“First,” said Kilfrie silently, “you
have to really feel your arm. Become
hyperaware of the sensations.”
Rwiordes did as he was instructed.
“Good. Now you must visualize the arm going
numb. Paralyzed. Try it.”
Rwiordes fingers tightened around
Brythia’s eye ball. He imagined the arm
falling lifeless to his side. He was
amazed as the arm went limp, and dropped harmlessly to his side. Immediately, however, the Demon raised it and
again threatened the nature priestess.
“You have to keep concentrating; it’s
the only way. We should only have to
delay him for a few moments. Hopefully
Tolian will get here soon,” said Kilfrie.
“The Champion? By the gods!”
Rwiordes exclaimed in realization.
“It’s a trap.”
Suddenly Rwiordes felt waves of pain
shoot through his body. The Demon was striking back, using his control of
Rwiordes’ own muscles to inflict agony upon his rebellious servant.
“You are not so wise to fight me
Rwiordes,” said the Demon.
Inside his mind Rwiordes screamed.
When Tolian heard Kilfrie’s thought
message, a panic struck her heart.
Brythia was in trouble. She set
the Moonsword in its sheath and turned away from Hertrid’s corpse. The battle became meaningless to her. It was as though she moved through a separate
reality, set askew from the scenes of warfare that she traveled through as she
hastened back into the Palace. A picture
of her destination flashed across Tolian’s mind. She knew exactly where she had to get
to. She sprang up the steps to the
Warrior’s Gate and raced across the courtyard which blazed with a dozen
fires. She did not notice. Thoughts of Brythia in danger clouded all
else from her awareness.
A little part of Tolian’s
consciousness understood that behavior was largely motivated by the effects of
Magara’s love spell. Knowing that did
not diminish her urgency for Brythia’s welfare.
She zipped past Lormian warriors in need of assistance without regard. Enemies that she could have easily dispatched
were bypassed to save a few precious seconds of time. Nothing but her love’s welfare mattered.
She tore through the galleries and
chambers she had spent her childhood in without heed of her surroundings. She bounded down vast stairwells as though
they were the distance of only a couple of feet. She raced round the bend of a corridor to see
Brythia and the Messenger. She
immediately recognized the black-orbed Rwiordes as another incarnation of the
Demon. Brythia’s eyes gleamed with hope
when they set upon Tolian though fear still played across her face.
The Demon wheeled about to face the
Champion. An evil satisfaction spread
over his smirking lips. The Demon
grabbed Brythia by the throat. Tolian
stopped a few yards away. She drew the
Moonsword from her scabbard and waved it with threatening precision.
“Release her,” she commanded.
The Demon cackled and then spoke in
its vile whisper of a voice, so eerie coming from Rwiordes’ lips rather than
Hertrid’s.
“We meet again, Princess, and I
believe you already know this sweet creature here. We were getting acquainted.”
“I said release her.”
Rwiordes reached into the flap of his
cloak pulled out a glass-like ball filled with some orange liquid.
“Tolian,” she heard inside her head,
“it’s me, Kilfrie. Listen to me, a ball
just like that one destroyed Coertal City.”
The Demon tossed the fireball at
Tolian. As the ball neared her the
processes of her brain could hardly be considered thinking. A deep, immediate understanding of the
required action flashed through her mind and reflexes at once. She prepared herself for only a minute
portion of a second. She dashed forward
and brought her hands around the orange sphere.
She applied no pressure, and allowed the ball to continue moving in the
direction the Demon had thrown it. Now
with only the slightest of impulses she began to steer the ball along the
hallway as she ran, precisely matching her own speed to the ball’s. At once she realized her plan was not going
to work. She felt the fireball generating
heat. First just a warming to her hands,
but then it quickly got much hotter. It
was glowing with a brilliant intensity and searing her hands as she ran. Tears flowed from her eyes at the pain as she
rushed up the stairways, still attempting to be as gentle and even in her
motions as possible. The flesh on her
fingers began to bubble from the heat.
The smell of her own flesh burning came to her nostrils. There was a sudden blazing flash. Fire.
Blinding, burning, raging with instant fury. Tolian tried to hold it all in. She struggled to hold the fire within her
grasp, but she could not. There was a
moment of absolute pain. Then the floor
under Tolian’s feet gave way, and the stones of the walls and ceiling came
crashing down. A crushing thunder
collapsed upon her. Then, at last the
blackness released her, and her consciousness drifted away.
Copyright 2002, 2015
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