Chapter 23
The door opened with ease at the
Demon’s attempt. He went through and
gestured to Rwiordes and Hertrid to follow him.
Rwiordes thought he was going to have a heart attack as the spiders and
roaches crawled over him. They avoided
his eyes and nose, so at least he could see and breathe. Panic struck at him as the swarm of vermin
tickled his flesh in their movements over his body. Shaking, he followed the Demon through the
door into the passage that it opened into.
Hertrid, in turn, followed him.
That passage was filled with the dead and
dying of the soldiers who had defended it. The Demon’s magic had instantly struck them
dead. The fiend stepped roughly over the corpses as well as those
gasping their last breaths of life. He
deliberately kicked one fellow in the head as he passed. Rwiordes attempted to be as careful as
possible in avoiding the poor unfortunate warriors, but he did not want the
Demon to get too far ahead of them. The
passage led to another door. The Demon
grabbed the doorknob and roughly pulled the door right off its hinges.
What a terrifying visage the three of
them must have presented to the half dozen people who huddled in the room as
they burst in covered in their living armor of pests. The Demon’s laughter had grown alarmingly loud
and maniacal. The occupants of the room,
four men and two women drew back as they entered. The men drew their swords, but with a slight
gesture from the Demon their weapons flew from their hands.
The Demon stepped forward.
“Good Afternoon,” he said in his
crazed whisper.
Three men positioned themselves
defensively before the others. All gaped in horror, saying nothing.
“Come, come,” the Demon said. “Surely you must realize that you are
beaten? Why must everyone in your city
die because of your own cowardice? I was
rather hoping to gather a large force of soldiers here. I would so hate to be disappointed.”
“You’re mad!” screamed a man dressed
in fine robes, indicating an elevated political position. He must be the governor, Rwiordes deduced.
“No sir,” the Demon corrected
him. “I am Madness. And I have just taken your city. I would so appreciate it if you would but
surrender.”
The governor thought about this for a
moment. “And, if I surrender, what will
become of Coertol City?”
The Demon let an insane cackle issue
from his spider-covered face, before answering, “I shall let those that are
prepared to serve me live. Those who
oppose me shall either die or pray for death.
Such is your choice, now Governor.”
The Demon then whistled and the tide
of spiders and roaches began at once to crawl off of them. Rwiordes breathed a huge sigh of relief. He looked over at Hertrid, who appeared
equally relieved. The Demon almost
looked more frightening without the living covering, as he contorted his face in all manner
of vile and twisted ways.
The governor and his small party cowered against the wall as the insects
and arachnids headed in their direction.
“ Very well,” the governor declared,
“Your magic has proven far superior to our defenses. I shall surrender Coertol City though I warn
you, that this city-state is officially a territory of the Emperor of
Keythion. He will, no doubt, send
reprisals against you.”
“I was counting on that, but first
things first.”
It some time for the governor to gather a
sufficient quantity of trumpeters and bannermen to signal the general
surrender. The word then spread though
the city that their conqueror would address surviving citizens in the main
plaza outside the Governor’s tower. This
order carried no exceptions and any who remained in their homes
would be duly tracked down and slaughtered.
Rwiordes stood behind the Demon and
the governor on the public speaking balcony.
A mass of people gathered below.
Many of them were injured or bereaved, cries of lament and pain filtered
up to the balcony. Yesterday the city
teemed with life and commerce. The
people secure in their futures. Today,
none of them had a future. Or, at least,
not one that anyone would want.
The Demon signalled for the governor
to make his official address regarding the surrender. The governor sighed uneasily and announced in
his regal, booming voice, “Today, my friends and neighbors, the unthinkable has
happened. I am truly sorry that we were
not better prepared for such a threat. Yet,
it matters not now. Our proud city has
fallen. We are defeated. All that remains for us to do is to obey our
conqueror. I now present to you our new
lord...” He turned to the Demon, and asked,
“What is your name?”
“My name is unimportant. I rather fancy being addressed as Master, at
present.”
“As you wish,” he turned again and
addressed the crowd below. “Our Master.”
The Demon stepped forward.
All eyes gazed up at him, they waited in morose for his pronouncements.
He spoke, loudly and clearly for once,
in an almost congenial manner, “Greetings, Good people of Coertal City! I congratulate you on the wisdom of your
leadership in their timely surrender.
This is the beginning of our destiny.
Yes, our destiny! Those of you
that so wish it may assist us in our grand designs. It is my intention that you who have fought
most bravely against me, shall now fight side by side with our forces, for the
betterment of the world. Those of you
who are so willing, shall be rewarded well, those who do not, well...let us not
speak of such things.”
“My command, at this time, is to
bring everything of value that this city contains, everything, to this plaza in
one hour. Make two piles: the one pile shall be divided between
those who stood beside me as we took your city.
The other pile shall go to those who will take up our cause. Those who will not join us, shall be killed,
along with the rest of their families, after, that is, my troops have their way
with any wives or daughters, or sons for that matter, that they so choose. Your choice is a simple one: live and prosper
by serving me, or alas, die. Those who
wish to join us will report to Tyuriuk, here, down in the market.”
“Now, it is my wish to prove to you
the seriousness of this choice now before you.”
He turned to Hertrid. “Bring that
barrel here won’t you, good Hertrid.
Thank you. Now, governor, I must
ask you to get into the barrel, please.”
“What on earth for?”
“Because, it is my wish.”
“Well, it doesn’t make any sense,” he
muttered as he climbed into the wooden barrel.
“Rwiordes, Hertrid,” the Demon said,
“I have need of your assistance.”
“Of course, Master,” they said in
unison. Rwiordes noticed that that was
getting annoying, and mysteriously frequent.
“Give me your hands,” the fiend
asked.
Rwiordes took one of the Demons’
hands and one of Hertrid’s. They formed
a small circle, standing next to the confused governor. At once, a surge of unwholesome energy poured
through Rwiordes. The governor cried
aloud in pain. Clouds of smoke began to
billow out of the barrel, bringing a foul stench to Rwiordes’ nostrils. The former leader of Coertal City then
started to scream quite incessantly in great agony. He was beginning to melt. Flesh dripped off his face into the
barrel. The crowd below watched in silent
terror as their governor poured into the wooden container.
At last, the Demon released the
strong grip he had on Rwiordes hand. He
glanced in morbid curiosity into the barrel.
He was aghast to hear the liquid speak, in garbled tones, “Wwwwhat did
yyyou ddo to mmmmme?”.
The Demon smiled and answered the
melted fluid that had just been the governor, “Well, you had thought that you
wished you could warn the Emperor. I
shall send you in your bucket to warn your liege. Perhaps he will not be so foolish as you.”
Then the fiend once again raised his
voice and addressed the assembled and horrified citizenry, “You now understand
the folly of crossing me. Trust me, good
folk, I can think of worse things to do to any who will not join my cause.”
His laughter rang out over the
plaza. The dragons that had perched high
above in the tops of the city towers now swooped down fearsomely over the
crowd.
The Demon screamed, “Bring me
everything you have, now! Do it, or
die!”
A new panic spread through the city
as the masses ran hither and thither to their homes and markets, with Tyuriuk’s
men attempting to maintain some semblance of order over the whole event.
The Demon turned to Rwiordes and
Hertrid, “That was easy enough. I
anticipate no worse in Keythion.”
He then called Tyuriuk over to him,
and pointed to the barrel that contained the liquified, though still sentient
governor, “Get someone to leave immediately for the Imperial City of Keythion,
taking the good governor here to warn them.
I want them to have plenty of time to find the wisdom to surrender.”
He kicked the barrel, “What do you
think, governor, does Keythion have any chance against me? How shall you advise your lord?”
The governor gurgled in response.
They remained in Coertal City for
several days, gathering provisions, arming and training the new
“recruits”. Rwiordes had been given no
responsibilities other than to relax and enjoy himself. Prior to the Demon’s conquest of the city,
this would have been an easy pastime; the city had been famous for its
recreational activities. Now, however,
things were starkly different. Virtually
everyone else but Hertrid and he were engaged in preparations for war. No taverns or pubs were open as their stores
of food and drink were confiscated for military use. The casinos were closed, the shops and
merchants stands cleaned out.
Fear pervaded the streets. A numb terror hung over the citizenry, who
endeavored to remain as busy as possible, thus hoping to escape the Demon’s
ire. Dragons roosted atop of the city’s
high spires, breathing down a dense cloud of soot and smoke, choking the city
in darkness and gloom. Where once small
window gardens and quaint patios stood, there now were blood stained debris and
litter. From homes where had issued the
sounds of laughter and family living came cries and sorrowful sobbing. They had become the houses of lamentation and
darkness. And, of course, no one entered
the market any longer, as it was used to keep the Abominations. For the Demon had found enough rebels to make
two more of the sickening things.
Rwiordes was seated on the eastern
wall of the city, staring out over the fields and grasslands that flanked
Coertal City opposite the Entrine Desert.
It was one of the few spots in the entire metropolis that he could breathe
fresh air, barely tainted by the dragon’s noxious vapors. His thoughts wandered here and there, he let
his mental guard down for a few moments.
Let the Demon read his thoughts if he wanted, Rwiordes had ceased to
care. After everything he had witnessed,
he found himself unafraid. He possessed
a feeling of certainty that the Demon simply would not hurt him. He no longer hid his contempt for the vile
fiend’s actions. He made comments that
drew fearful glances from others, yet brought no comment from the supernatural
menace that had possessed his friend.
The Demon tolerated Rwiordes’ behavior, yet he would brook no such
insolence from anyone else. Rwiordes
still had no idea why this was, but it was certainly a fact. Obviously, for some reason Rwiordes could not
fathom, the Demon needed him (and Hertrid, though the latter demonstrated no
independence from their Master).
Such were Rwiordes’ thoughts, then as
he reclined on the mighty walls of the city on the desert’s edge on the last
day of October. Suddenly his train of
thought was disrupted in a most peculiar manner. A voice spoke to him inside his
thoughts. It wasn’t the little voice
that speaks to the mind, it was
someone’s else’s voice. It was the
Demon.
“Rwiordes, come to me, I have need of
you.”
The monster’s vile malevolence came
through quite clearly in his mind. At
first he looked around to make sure that the Demon wasn’t standing behind
him. Nothing. Then again the mental hiss:
“Come to me now.”
Rwiordes found that he could not
resist. He climbed to his feet and made
his way to the nearest stairway. He felt
sick, yet he had no power but to obey.
He consciously had no idea where the
Demon might be, but he made his way through the gloom of the city’s streets,
led by an inner knowledge. He entered a
tower and ascended a spiraling staircase with a haste that was not his own.
Finally he entered a room where he
knew he would find the Demon.
“Ah, there he is now, excellent,”
said the Demon to Hertrid, and several others around him.
“You wished to see me, Master?”
Rwiordes asked.
“Yes, indeed, good Rwiordes, I did.”
Rwiordes looked about at the others
gathered there. He was surprised to see
that he knew none of the others.
Normally, the Demon was surrounded by Tyuriuk and his lieutenants. Instead, there were ten other men, dressed in
dark magickal robes.
“Rwiordes, may I present, the College
of Sorcerers. Gentleman, my associate
Rwiordes,” the Demon graciously introduced everyone.
Rwiordes was confused, but nothing
that the Demon did could surprise him.
“Now that we’re all present, let us
begin,” the Demon continued.
Begin?” asked Rwiordes.
“Yes,” the Demon said. “There is a certain matter that I wish to
take care of prior to departing for Keythion.
These gentlemen have wisely chosen to aid us in our undertaking on this
fine Halloween evening.”
“I see,” Rwiordes said .
Rwiordes looked to Hertrid, who
appeared to be as ignorant regarding what was transpiring as Rwiordes. The ten sorcerers, however, clearly knew what
was going on, and they exhibited great nervousness.
“ Very well,” the Demon began in a
coarse whisper, which he completed in a horrific shout, “to work!”
The Demon had Hertrid and Rwiordes
sit with him in a triangular position, facing each other. The others were instructed to take seats
forming a circle around the three.
Everyone did as they were bid without the slightest sound. A dark menace lingered in the chamber, a
powerful unease. The Demon closed his
eyes and said nothing. He did not move,
nor did he even appear to breath.
Stillness and silence. Every
candle in the room went out at once, yet no one dared express his surprise with
even the smallest of gasps.
Now blackness engulfed the room, as
there were no windows to allow the last of the sun’s rays ingress. They sat thus for at least two hours, in that
dark of fear. Rwiordes legs had fallen asleep,
and sharp spasms and muscle cramps shot through them. The pain got rather intense, but even he
hadn’t the courage to disturb the Demon in this situation.
Eventually, the Demon began
cackling. He started at first, his laughter barely audible. Then with each breath the fiend’s hilarity
grew in volume.
“It is time,” he chuckled in morbid
merriment.
He then stopped his laugh in an
instant, the room returning to the deep silence. This time the Demon broke the quiet quickly.
“I give you the Power, I give you the
Fury, Enter the night and destroy my enemies!”
At once the sorcerers began to growl
and bark as dogs. They yelped and
snarled, their voices issuing bestial tones.
Rwiordes could make out the ten shapes encircling them through the
blackness with some straining. The
sorcerers rocked about like lunatics on the floor. The clamor they raised was tremendous, as
they howled with bone chilling timbre. A
frightful savageness rang in every growl. Visions of wolves hunting flashed
across Rwiordes’ mind. The Demon’s laugh
blended insanely with the canine chorus.
Rwiordes was most disturbed, however, by Hertrid’s laughter.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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