by David Adams
“Belzlak?” Barlow asked.
“I would assume so,” said Uesra, “though I do not know how he appeared in life.”
A sound came from across the room, a sigh of exhaled air. “This, tragically, is how I look in life,” said the man in the chair, his voice beyond raspy. He sounded as if his vocal cords had been rubbed raw with sand.
Other than the subtle movement of his jaw, none would have believed the thing in the chair could have spoken, unless it was among the living dead, something they couldn’t rule out based on earlier experience. Tentatively they moved off the stairs, though none neared the chair or its occupant. Their movements drew no reaction at all from the wrinkled creature that had just spoken.
“You are Belzlak?” Silas asked.
After a short pause, “I am.”
“And you live?”
“After a fashion. Not much of a life. But I have not passed from the world of the living on this plane of existence, which I take to be the meaning of your question.”
“How did you come to be in such a state?”
“Now that is a tale. But first I would know to whom I speak. I sense there are six in your party, assuming no others remain downstairs.”
“Correct,” Silas replied. “Impressive.”
“I’ve had far too long to heighten certain senses,” Belzlak said, dismissing the compliment. “If you don’t mind, I would hear each of you state your name.”
Silas started, and then the others spoke in turn.
“Four humans and two Ice Elves,” Belzlak stated when they were done. “Tell me, how is Queen Aerlos?”
“She is well,” Uesra answered.
“I’d send her my regards, but I doubt she’d receive them warmly. Any chance you’re here to release me from this tower?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“That’s no surprise, but one can always hope. I spent many years trying to pass through the door below, or find another way out. Her magic is quite powerful, and can cause a great deal of pain. I’m beyond wanting to exit the tower now, regardless. I’d have nowhere to go, no experience I’d want save the one withheld from me.”
“And what is that?”
“The ability to die.”
Those four words opened new lines of questioning, but also started to make some sense of what the companions were seeing. “If that is the burden you carry, it was not placed by our queen.”
“I did not so accuse her.” Belzlak paused, his brow knitting in concentration, the first movement of any sort he had made other than the movements needed to speak. “You have it. You’ve brought it here.”
“The special book you wrote, yes,” Silas confirmed.
“Then you are far more interesting than the rare visitor I receive here in my solitude. Why have you come?”
“There are pages in the book that cannot be read. We hoped you could enlighten us as to their purpose.”
“Who read the other pages?”
“Queen Aerlos was able to do that,” Uesra replied.
“Interesting. How did she manage to open the book?”
“It was necessary to torture a goblin to do so.”
Belzlak let out a small laugh. “That must have pained her.”
“It did actually.”
“That’s most unfortunate,” Belzlak said, though the look on his face clearly undermined any thought that the words might be sincere.
After a brief pause, Silas said, “So, can you tell us about the last three pages?”
“Of course I can. The question is, ‘Will I?’ ”
“It seems that you are the only one who can answer that.”
“And I will, after I understand better how it is you came to have the book, and why you are interested in its contents.”
Darius made a motion at Silas, inquiring whether he should speak. The cleric nodded for him to do so. “King Landri, of Longvale, had possession of the book. My sister was made to understand that much of his power came from the book, and she was able to take it. From her it passed to me. The three southern kingdoms have been plagued with drought, famine, and war through most of Landri’s reign, and we’ve come to suspect that his use of the book has brought much of this about.”
Belzlak pondered this for a time. “Did this Landri assume power under questionable circumstances?”
“Yes. Both King Thrum and Prince Frelis, Landri’s older brother, were murdered. Guilt for the crimes was never placed, but Landri clearly benefited the most from those events.”
“Did you ever make a connection between the parts of the book Aerlos could read and any actual events in Corterra?”
“We ran into some bat-like creatures called ‘Dezku,’ a small, quick creature that tried to take the book, another that used illusion to represent itself as people we have known, either living or dead, and a group of demons riding flaming horses.”
“And you survived the Dezku and the riders. Did you flee from those confrontations?”
“We stayed clear of the Dezku, for the most part,” Darius answered, honestly but purposefully avoiding any mention of the effect Gabriel had had upon them. “The demons we faced in battle.”
“Then you must be mighty foes to be reckoned with. Fortunate for me that I am not an enemy. You do not consider me such, do you?”
Barlow started to reply, but Silas, sensing trouble, stilled him. “We have no reason to think of you in those terms.”
“Your friend would disagree.” He turned, aiming his eyeless sockets at Barlow.
Silas sighed and shook his head. He knew Barlow wouldn’t resist such bait.
“You did write the book,” Barlow said. “Can you deny it to be a work of evil?”
“Of course not. It was a supreme work of evil, beyond my own meager skills.”
“What do you mean?” Darius asked, trying to steer the conversation away from an escalation into an argument between Belzlak and Barlow. “Were you not the sole author?”
“I penned the book. I cast much of the magic that it is infused with. There were once several such Books of Dread, and one was used by an acquaintance of mine to call a greater demon into this world. The act resulted in his death. Unfortunate for him, I thought at the time. Now I envy him. But I digress. It was this demon that helped me write the greatest of all the Blood Books. In return for my part in doing so, I was granted eternal life, rather than eternal damnation. That was three hundred years ago. I’m not sure the abyss would be much worse.”
Barlow started to respond, but considering the current state of the man, he decided against it.
“I was used,” Belzlak went on. “I see that now. For many years I had power and riches, and I had thwarted the demon’s main goal.” He paused, letting the tension build, taking his time. A man who will live forever rarely feels rushed.
Darius finally obliged him. “And that goal was…”
“That I would use the spells on the last three pages of the book. I was not so foolish. Perhaps this Landri was. I imagine he thought quite highly of himself.”
“Most kings do,” Adrianna said.
“So, what might he have done in his arrogance?” Silas tried, getting back to the main point of the discussion, at least from the companions’ point of view.
Belzlak wasn’t quite ready to yield that information. “Patience. I have yet to have my own questions satisfied. Once that’s done, we’ll consider your request.”
“Why should we answer where you will not?” Barlow wanted to know.
“Because you sought me out. If we agree not to share, I’ve lost nothing. You, on the other hand, must have risked a great deal to come here, in winter no less. Your need must be quite dire, quite pressing. And you have two Ice Elves in your party. Need I remind you who it was that took away what little freedom I had?”
This time it was Silas who could not resist answering. “A well-deserved imprisonment, no doubt.”
“Oh, if I told you all, I’m sure you would wholeheartedly agree with Aerlos’ ac
tions. Luckily for you, as I mentioned earlier, I have no reason or will to leave this place anyway. Unfortunately for you, my current condition renders me immune to physical threats. Others have tried, thinking I must know where the book was, but their efforts, although you can likely still see the effects on my person, were fruitless. And I’m guessing they were less squeamish about inflicting pain than you might be.”
“You might be surprised,” Uesra said.
“An expected reply. But, again, I am immune.”
“What is it you want?” Silas asked.
“First, I’d like to see the book.” He held out a hand and added, “Figuratively, of course.”
Darius hesitated, and Barlow said to Silas, “I’m not sure that’s a wise move.”
Belzlak let his hand drop. “It’s your decision. I’m fairly certain I don’t have the capability to take it from you.”
Silas shrugged and motioned for Darius to hand Belzlak the book. As it settled into his deeply-wrinkled hands, Barlow drew Gabriel, making no effort to hide the metal-on-metal sound.
Belzlak smiled. “I’ve already told you—”
“I know,” Barlow said. “You can’t die. So far we have only your word on that. I do wonder, though, what would happen if your head was cleaved from the rest of your body.”
The threat did not impact the odd smile on Belzlak’s face, an expression made eerier by the absence of eyes. “An interesting question. Would the parts find each other and fuse together over time, such as with trolls, or would I spend my days on the cold floor? Given that I can’t see, and I’ve barely moved in an age, it would hardly seem to matter.”
Barlow only paid partial attention to Belzlak’s logic. He turned Gabriel this way and that, and was glad to see no light emanating from the sword. When Belzlak finished talking Barlow came as close to telling him to proceed as could reasonably be expected: he let out one small, dismissive grunt and said no more.
As Belzlak turned his attention to the book, the others watched him, intent on picking up any clue about what he might be feeling, thinking, or planning from his expression. But the eyes are crucial in reading such things, and the empty sockets haunting Belzlak’s visage revealed nothing. One by one they averted their eyes, unwilling to return his bottomless stare.
After he had allowed his hands to reacquaint themselves with the form of his creation, he gave a series of progressively harder tugs to the clasp holding it shut. After failing several times, he muttered, “Interesting.”
“I take it you could open the clasp earlier,” Adrianna said.
“When last I held it, yes. But it has been a very long time. I’m not totally surprised, really, not even sure what it means, or if it means anything at all. Any inner fire I had has gone out long ago, and I seek nothing but an end to my torment. The strong, dark emotions needed are beyond me…even the mention of Aerlos could not stir them, although if I had had the book just after she had imprisoned me…”
“A possibility best left unexplored,” Silas said.
“Fair enough. I assume Aerlos had some of the goblin’s blood collected to open the book. Do any of you have it?”
“I do,” Adrianna answered.
Belzlak tapped the latch with a thick, yellow fingernail. “If you don’t mind.”
Adrianna found the vial of blood and put a single drop on the clasp. Belzlak smeared it with his thumb, seeming to enjoy the tactile sensation of it, then he pulled the clasp open. Like Aerlos had done, he paged through the book, one page at a time, his right hand contacting each page as if he could read through touch. He lingered over the last three pages, nearly caressing them before he finally finished and closed the book.
“I think I may be in a bit of a quandary. I realize there is one key question I would like answered before proceeding. What is it you intend to do about what is revealed by the contents of the final three pages of the book?”
“That would depend on what they contain,” Silas replied.
“And there is my quandary, as that is the answer to be expected.” Belzlak sighed. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I’m past caring how things turn out in this world. Odd, given that I’m trapped in it forever.”
“Your concern is touching,” Barlow said sarcastically.
“Do I not get a small amount of credit for being painfully honest?”
“Not with me. My own bit of painful honesty.”
“Ah. It would be a pleasure to spend many days in verbal jousting with you, Barlow, but I sense your friends grow impatient.”
“In that you speak the truth,” Uesra said.
“Very well then. The book has been used at least five times. I can still feel the energy from the pages that were used. The Dezku, as you noted, were one such use. Another called a small demon into this realm, an imp, likely employed to run an errand of some sort.”
“The creature after the book,” Xanar said.
“Possibly, but Darius described it as quick. Imps are not slow, but… Did the thing seeking the book have wings?”
“No, I’m sure it didn’t” Adrianna replied.
“Even so, it was clearly a creature from the underworld,” Silas said.
“But not one called by the book,” Belzlak told them.
“Then how did it get here?” Darius asked.
“We’ll get to that. The flaming demons and horses did not come from the book either. I did not think that there was such a calling in the book, and there is not. Like your little thief, these could have been called through another Blood Book, but more likely they were gated in by another powerful demon. A very powerful demon.”
“The final pages,” Silas stated.
Belzlak nodded, a fractional tip of his head. “Each page calls one. Praad, the Lord of Desolation. Orgoth, the Lord of Fear. And Kaelesh, the Lord of Hate.”
“Nice titles,” Barlow said.
“And well earned. I mentioned the greater demon that came to me to have the book written. He would bow down to these three. All in the abyss would, save one, the master of the nether world.”
“You speak of—”
“Let us not mention his name. These other three are enough trouble for any world. They are his sons.”
The pause that followed was long, the expressions in the room stunned, save that of Belzlak, whose smile only widened the longer the silence dragged out. Finally Xanar managed to say, “Okay. Sounds like fun.”
“Not much is fun where these three are concerned. Everything in the book requires a blood sacrifice, among other things. For these brothers, only a death will suffice, and that of a blood relative.”
“King Thrum and Prince Frellis,” Darius said.
“Quite likely. And at least one other, if not a known relative maybe a bastard child of one of them. Of course, from what you said earlier, these deaths were only the beginning. If you had come here to tell me the three had been loosed, I would have been able to predict the dire situation down south. What else would they do, other than bring pain, death, and destruction?”
“And yet you wrote the book,” Barlow said, his tone one of challenge. “You must have known what those pages were for, what they might do to Corterra if used.”
“I did,” Belzlak answered evenly. “I had no intention of ever using those spells. These three cannot be controlled or bargained with. Apparently King Landri did not have such a limiting view of his ability to deal with such beings.”
“He likely did not fully comprehend what he was dealing with,” Silas said. “He was never considered strong enough to rule, but with the deaths of his father and older brother, there was no way to stop him ascending to the throne. His hand has been firmer than many thought possible over the last ten years, and as bad as things are, some gave him credit for keeping it from being worse, especially in Longvale. Now his reign takes on an entirely different aspect.”
“He has been a pawn,” Belzlak stated bluntly. “As I would have been to such creatures.”
“You must have known
the book would eventually fall into such hands as Landri’s,” Barlow said with a scowl.
“Maybe so. But such was not my concern. I got what I wanted from writing it, or so I thought.”
“How can you just—?”
“I am not like you, a point you will not argue. If you feel the need to punish me for my short-sighted, self-serving behavior, you are more than welcome to proceed.”
Barlow made as if to take him up on the offer, but Silas stopped him with a glance. The paladin, annoyed though he was, really wasn’t going to follow through with a sword strike regardless. He thought Belzlak was trying to get him to stoop to his level, and Barlow wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Can the book be used to send them back to the abyss?” Uesra asked.
“Sorry. The book only opens gates to call creatures forth, not banish them.”
“Do you know of a way to send the brothers back?”
“Only one, and it is through deed, not through any ritual. They cannot be slain completely on this plane, but if struck down, they will be sent back to the underworld, from which they cannot return unless called forth again.”
“Could one of the other brothers do that?”
“I do not believe so. They can call lesser servants—likely the demon riders were one such group—but to open a gate for one of the brothers requires the special blood sacrifice of the caster.”
“Is Landri linked to them in some way?” Adrianna asked. “He gated them in. What if he dies?”
“You mean ‘What if you kill him?’ ”
“If you prefer.”
“No help there. It might slow their plans, whatever those might be, but it won’t affect them otherwise. You’ll have to take them out directly if you want them gone. Far, far easier said than done.”
