Chapter 7
Lira handed
him some mushrooms. Tolian watched
himself with that same feeling of distant, powerless horror, as he quickly
ingested them. Kilfrie was standing next
to him, controlling his motions, utilizing what magicks, Tolian did not know. The mushrooms tasted rather like old peanuts
in manure. Not that he had ever, of
course, eaten old peanuts in manure. He
chewed them with great care and diligence.
Tolian became aware of a tangy flavor, almost acidy in its potency. He was extremely conscious of his body’s
internal activity, presumably as a result of having no control of his
body. The mushrooms slid down his throat
. He drank some water to wash them down.
“Wonderful,”
Lira remarked.
“Thank you,”
he heard himself and Kilfrie say simultaneously.
The sun was
low in the sky, surrounded by the brilliant orange clouds of the autumn evening. The forest was quiet; only the sound of the
crackling of the newly lit fire could be heard.
The others came from the woods and seated themselves around the
fire. They seemed nervous, yet filled
with grim determination.
They were
nervous? Tolian mused.
He felt
himself walk to the fire and seat himself on the ground, in a circle with the
others. He sat cross legged and folded
his arms across his chest. Kilfrie walked silently behind him. She then walked around him and sat next to
him.
They sat
for what seemed like the better part of the evening to Tolian, but was, in fact,
merely a half hour. As they sat there,
Tolian watched the sun sink below the horizon, and the colors of sunset
dominate the Western sky. He felt a
weird heaviness in his
brain — not a sleepiness, but a sensation
such as he had never experienced. He
felt Kilfrie’s control relinquish, yet, at that point, he did not have the
power to move. Psychedelic shapes twisted
in the air before his eyes. The ground
seemed possessed of a fluctuation that it had never before demonstrated. Tolian, now that he had control of himself,
looked about at the others. They were quite still. They seemed to glow with an inner light of
great intensity.
Brythia’s
voice broke through the excited silence, “Let us begin the chant of the spirit
vision.”
To Tolian,
her voice seemed far distant, yet impossibly close at the same time. With her announcement the druidesses began
intoning , “Hya moost rietys Kalos.”
The foreign
chant swirled forth from their lips, becoming a wall of twisting sound, the
mantra weaving in and out of his being.
The words seemed to permeate everything that Tolian could see, hear and
smell. He could see the vibrations of
the chant as they issued from the mouths of his captors.
It occurred
to him, at some point, that he should attempt to make his move, but hardly had
he thought it, that he realized he was in no condition for any such activity.
Brythia’s
reassuring voice called to him (or was it
in his mind he heard her?), “Do not fear, Tolian. We are merely invoking the spirit
vision. We shall show you that of which
the prophecy speaks: the manifestation
of the Demon. Fear not; for no harm
shall come to you as you watch. We shall
view these events together, in complete safety.”
He believed
her. He felt safe. Brythia’s voice rejoined the chanting.
“Hya moost
rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys
kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos—”
The
velocity of the chant increased incrementally with each repetition. Tolian’s vision began to blur as the fire
seemed to leap impossibly high, the trees surrounding them swayed and blended
into each other. The ground churned and
splashed like water below him. The stars
which had now come out of the night sky danced before his eyes. Then everything swished and melted together
in the tidal force of the mantric chanting of the nature priestesses.
“Hya moost
rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys
kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos. Hya moost rietys kalos.”
Their
voices had increased to shouts of great violence and power. Tolian wasn’t entirely certain, but he
thought he may have been chanting along as well. If not, then the mantra raced, in any case,
with fury through his being.
“Hya moost
rietys kalos! Hya moost rietys
kalos! HYA MOOST RIETYS KALOS!”
For a
moment, a blackness engulfed Tolian, but then it seemed to him that his vision
returned to him. He quickly realized
that it was not as normal vision. The
first thing Tolian noticed was that he was seeing somewhere else. A desert rolled as far as he could see. Then it occurred to him that he wasn’t so
much seeing, as he was viewing or experiencing the scene. His point of view seemed to shift and change
to the greatest advantage. The smells of
the desert presented themselves to him, a sweet sandy smell. A harsh dryness moved through him.
Now he was
moving with terrific speed over the shifting dunes that lay spread out before
him. Above him the stars shone
brilliantly. Tolian saw three comets
dance across the heavens. Their motion
would have been impossible to detect to ordinary vision.
In the
distance some ruins sprawled on the horizon.
Then he was there, looming above the ancient pillars, staring up from
forgotten wells, looking over broken walls.
In the midst of the ruins three figures moved.
They were
men, garbed in rich purple robes, embroidered with gold and set with
semi-precious gems. They were roughly
the same age, somewhere between thirty and forty. They confined their movements to within a
large circle that they had drawn in the sand and surrounded with candles. It was apparent that they were engaged in
some sort of magickal operation. Tolian’s
point of view moved right up to the men, so that he could clearly see their
faces and hear their words. One man
marched about the inner circumference of the circle in a slow deliberate gait,
whilst waving an incense burner, secured by a chain, about the air. A thick pungent smoke rolled into the breeze
as the incense burned. It had a heavy,
dark odor. The tallest of the three
magicians stood, quite impressively with his wand raised high, reciting from a
book he held in his other hand.
The shorter
of the three was speaking, “Come on, Perilisk, it’s no use, we’ve been out here
for hours already. I don’t think the
Earth spirits are going to come and lead us to that fabulous treasure you
promised.”
Perilisk
shot his companion a quick derisive glance and commanded with a booming
theatrical voice, “Mock not our sacred magick, Hertrid, lest you scare away the
spirits with your crass disbelief.”
“What
spirits?” Hertrid asked.
Perilisk
had already resumed his powerful incantations, ignoring his comrade, “KILROP TY
IROUD CURNIT VAZ EWRTY.”
It seemed
this Hertrid had had enough, and persisted in his arguments, “I said, ‘what spirits?’”
Perilisk
stopped, lowered his great staff, “You do not feel the presence of the Earth
spirits? They flit about us as we
speak. They watch us. Resume your purification of the talisman, we
shall stay out here all night if necessary, but we shall not leave until our
will is done. Do you understand me?”
His
statement was filled with cold authority, and a hint of almost murderous
determination. Even the other fellow who
was circumambulating with the incense stopped and looked with surprise at his
companions. Hertrid stood silent for a
moment and then picked up a gold disk from off of the altar, which stood in the
centre of the magick circle. Perilisk
seemed satisfied that his recalcitrant associate had properly obeyed him and he
began again with his recitations and gestures with the staff.
They worked
at their posts for a time longer, not ceasing in their tasks. As Tolian watched, he became aware of another
presence, not visible in the scene, but nearby in some way, observing the
ritual. There was something deeply
disturbing about this presence, something that felt so ancient and evil, that
Tolian shivered as though a dark chill had passed through his soul.
After a
while, Hertrid called over to the incense bearer, who was starting to get
dizzy, as his steps faltered. “Rwiordes,
Come let us stop this nonsense. Surely
you can see that this is a worthless waste of time.”
Rwiordes
looked at the altar and slowed his step, but did not stop, as a glance from
Perilisk was sufficient to warn him.
Perilisk
called to Hertrid, “Enough of your stupidity!
Be silent, if you cannot assist.”
“I tell you
we’re wasting our time.”
With that
statement Hertrid threw the talisman he was supposed to be consecrating outside
the circle. It landed in the sand
several yards away.
“You fool!”
Perilisk shouted. “You have broken our
circle!”
“It is you
who are the fool,” Hertrid said. “We
have spent nearly a fortune on this equipment, these robes, and expensive
incense for naught. I told you nothing
would come of your magick. Even with
your circle ‘broken’ no evil has befallen us.
I’m leaving.”
He strode
across the circle. Rwiordes and Perilisk
watched.
Hertrid was
about to stride outside the circle’s confines when he saw the figure that stood
beyond. Tolian saw it too. Everyone saw it: the druidesses, Perilisk, Rwiordes. For a moment, nothing moved. Hertrid halted his foot just as it was about
to cross the line in the sand. His eyes
widened in horror.
It was out
there. Sometimes it appeared as a deep
black shadow, comprised of the darkest void.
In another moment, it stood as a human figure clothed in rags, with the
head of a wolf, blood dripping from its hideous fangs. Now, it was an old man with black eyes and
tentacles in place of his legs. Its
forms kept changing, revealing ever new levels of horror and terror to those
who watched in the silent desert.
“Back away!”
cried Perilisk. “Stay within the circle,
Hertrid!”
Hertrid
didn’t really require that advice, as he was carefully stepping backwards, away
from the figure of nightmare that waited outside the circle.
Perilisk
hastened to the altar and, setting down his book and wand, picked up the long,
ceremonial sword. He raised the sword
high above his head and, mustering his courage walked over to where Hertrid inched
backward, transfixed by terror.
Perilisk
cleared his throat and commanded, “Depart foul fiend, we did not summon
you. Depart to the infernal regions of
your habitation!”
Tolian had
to admire Perilisk’s bravery.
The hideous
spectre laughed in the most appalling voice any of them had ever heard. “Your magick has summoned me, I shall not
leave.”
Perilisk’s
voice wavered, “I command you to depart in the name of the Lord of the
Universe!”
Demon
smirked offensively, “Aye, Perilisk. And
what is that name?”
“I...”
“You have
evoked me by your ignorance,” the Demon walked casually around the circle
stooping to pick up the discarded talisman of Earth. “You have placed the Earth in my power, and
so you shall be rewarded.”
“Rewarded?”
Perilisk asked timidly.
“Your body
shall become invulnerable. Wondrous
magicks shall leap from your fingers. You shall become immortal... .”
Perilisk
looked back at the others and then to the Demon, “How can you deliver these
things, Oh Dark One?”
“As you
shall come to see,” the Demon replied, “There is nothing that I cannot do. Come to me.”
Rwiordes and
Hertrid cowered on the ground, shaking their heads in the negative. Perilisk seemed to consider the Demon’s
offer. Tolian wished he could shout to
him and warn him. He knew that the Demon
spoke lies. Tolian could feel that this
thing would bring untold horror and doom to the world. The Druidic Prophecy was coming true.
Perilisk
had made up his mind. He got to his feet
and cast down his sword. He looked back
to his cowering companions and stepped outside the circle.
The Demon
blew apart into a fine dark mist, which swarmed around Perilisk and into the
circle. It seemed to Tolian that
Perilisk, judging from the panicked look on his face, had almost immediately
regretted his decision. The small,
swirling vortex that the demon had become concentrated itself about Perilisk’s
head. His eyes shone with terror and
pain. Tears streamed from his eyes.
He shouted,
“What of my reward?”
The demonic
mist formed a mouth right in front of his face and spoke, “Your reward is that
your body shall become my body. I thank
you.”
Tolian
watched in disgust as the black clouds circled around Perilisk’s head and began
to pour into his mouth and nose.
Perilisk’s screams were muffled in the turbulent process.
At last all
was still; there was no trace of the demon.
Perilisk lay prone on the sandy desert floor. Rwiordes pulled Hertrid off him and walked to
the edge of the circle. He peered
cautiously down on Perilisk’s supine form.
“Perilisk?”
he whispered.
No reply.
Then with a
jerk, Perilisk snapped up.
Rwiordes backed
away slightly.
“Afraid of
me, old friend?” Perilisk asked.
“N-n-n-o-o,“
Rwiordes stuttered. “I’m afraid of that
thing.”
“That
thing,“ Perilisk said haughtily, “is me, now.
I am the Lord of Chaos, Prince of Demons, soon to be Ruler of the World. Bow before me and obey me. Or die.”
Rwiordes
didn’t spend too much time thinking over the command; he fell to his knees,
abject.
“Wise,” Perilisk
said, though Tolian knew that it was the Demon who was speaking.
Suddenly,
the Demon stared at Tolian. He grew
frightened to the deepest level of his being.
The Demon held that gaze for a moment, then spoke, addressing, it
seemed, Tolian himself, “So, the druids watch in fear. Well that they should. You cannot stand against me, mortals. Flee into your forests, I will find you. I will bathe in your blood as I set your
precious woods to blaze. Your puny
machinations shall be in vain. You have
been privileged to witness my entrance into the World. But you shall see no more.”
At that,
the desert slipped away from Tolian’s sight.
He found himself once more seated around the fire at the campsite. The others looked as disheveled and confused
as he felt. Spasms of nausea swept over
him. He vomited right into the
fire. Deep in his heart Tolian knew that
the end of the world had begun.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
No comments:
Post a Comment