Bloodless

by Roberto Vecchi

  As the fading was nearing its completion of transitioning him into someone else, he sensed a presence. Not something within him, for there was nothing within him, or almost nothing. More accurately put, nothing that he identified as him. However, the presence he sensed was complete, that much he knew. And it seemed to be coming from somewhere outside of him.

  “You have no business here, Demon!” said a familiar voice, a voice he thought was his, but was not at the same time. “It is between he and I, and nothing else.”

  “Do you presume to know what concerns him?” said a voice thick with innate violence. “Do you presume to know anything beyond your own faulted, mortal consciousness?” continued the malevolent voice.

  “Stand down, Demon!” commanded the first voice, clearly concerned and anxious.

  “Do you now presume to command me; that which exists beyond your foolish and miniscule realm of filthy stench and putrid tastes? What part of you could ever be great enough to command me?” said the second voice, threat lacing each of its words.

  “Why are you here?” said the first voice, now distinguishable as separate from his own.

  “I am here because I obey, foolish Necron. Something you would do well to mimic,” it replied.

  “For what purpose did you enter?” challenged the first voice. Mordin, the first voice was that of Mordin. But who was Mordin? As of yet, he did not know, but he felt that he should know, that he could know again.

  “I came for him,” said the demon. Gogoziel was its name! Yes, he was beginning to know again; at least those things outside of him. Now, if he could only extend those things within him.

  “You must wait your turn, filth! He is mine!” said the necromancer, activated his necromantic defenses for the battle he was sure would shortly begin.

  But instead of responding with an attack as Mordin expected, the demon laughed. “You are small minded and concerned with only that which you can see. Extend yourself and remove your challenge, for you cannot challenge me.”

  “I will not! He is mine! Long have I waited for this moment. My moment. And you will not take it from me!” said the Prime Necron as he released a dark stream of pure hatred toward the demon. It struck squarely upon it, shaking and rattling the walls as if the structure was going to crumble down around them. However hard the walls shook, they held, and so did Gogoziel. Mordin raged at the demon’s continued existence and released another torrent of hate, this time forming his dark fountain into a cone of black, wisplike fire from the tips of his fingers. Again, it struck the demon, enveloping him with its burning blackness until Mordin was sure the demon had been consumed. Jesolin, having regained enough of his consciousness to discern events and moments was just as surprised as Mordin to see Gogoziel yet standing.

  “Your tricks and juvenile skills may have proven effective against the infancy of mortals, but mortal I am not. Now, stand aside fool, and allow me to do what must be done,” Gogoziel hissed making his voice barely definable by mortal standards.

  “Tricks you say?” taunted Mordin. “You have seen but a fraction of my abilities. Now witness the beginning of your end,” he said as he waved his hands in the air drawing a pattern that Jesolin identified as a quick outline of one of the blood-runes. When he was done, the pattern itself shimmered a deep grey and shuttered momentarily until it exploded. As it did, Mordin multiplied! Where there once was one, now there were five aspects of the Prime Necron. Each one stood on a pentagonal point surrounding Gogoziel, who looked around cautiously. In unison, each of the Mordin’s outlined a different blood rune in the air. It took only seconds, but when the five aspects were complete, the deep greyish runes shuttered again and exploded directly toward the demon within. When the complex spell was completed, and the hate-filled energy had been spent, the demon was no more. It was gone leaving only Jesolin and Mordin again.

  The Prime Necron surveyed the room for a moment, making sure the result of his spell was the complete destruction of Gogoziel. When he was satisfied the demon had been destroyed, he turned his attention to Jesolin. “I see you have regained some of your faculties. But do not worry, my lord. With the demon gone, I will be able to devote more of my energy to my little spell. You will soon cease to be.” As his hands began to move, outlining an unknown blood-rune, Jesolin tried to stand only to find that while he had gained some of his mental faculties, he had not, as of yet, regained his ability to connect with his power.

  When the spell had been cast before, while he was raping The Constable, he had not noticed its infiltration, but now, without anything else subverting his attention, he felt it land upon his mind. It was such a subtle little thing. No wonder he had failed to detect it the first time. He supposed that even the smallest amount of distraction would cause this spell to be missed. It was an ingenious achievement by his Prime Necron. In an odd fashion, even though he felt the tiny effects begin to mount again, he was proud of Mordin.

  “Are you really that arrogant that you believe your pitiful attempt at my destruction would be successful?” came a loud and booming voice from all around them. Mordin instantly snapped his head around in every direction searching for Gogoziel. After a few harried seconds, it faded into view again sitting atop the throne. “Now then,” it said as it fluidly stood, moving just beyond a mortally defined pattern of bones and muscles, “brace yourself, Prime Necron, the reaper comes.”

  As Gogoziel walked down the steps to stand on the floor even with Mordin and the still laying Jesolin, its shape changed. Its arms grew to drag its elongating claws on the floor making a screeching noise as they scrapped the hard marble. Its face blended into an animalistic maw with an elongated lower jaw and pronounced lower fangs measuring at least four inches before they ended in razor sharp points. Its torso grew wider and muscular as did its thighs. But the most horrifying change was the leathery wings that sprouted from its back. They were hideously shaped and resembled another set of powerful arms but were clearly wing-like in design. It still maintained its indigo aura of wispy flames, but they now radiated a chilling fear; a fear that Mordin felt.

  “Now you see, mortal. Now you know! I am The Reaper. Fear me, Necron. Fear me and run,” it hissed with an evil sound so full that even Jesolin would have been afraid had he been facing this monstrosity of purely created hate. Jesolin, able to turn his head and look to Mordin, saw the Prime Necron stumble backward in the presence of Gogoziel’s true form, that of Satan’s Reaper. As the evil wizard turned to run, the demon launched one of its wing-like projections piercing Mordin through the shoulder and lifting him off the ground.

  “Can you feel that?” asked the demon as it drew Mordin toward him. “Do you know what that feeling is? It is me. It is death,” and just as quickly as with the first wing, Gogoziel launched a second one piercing Mordin’s other shoulder. The Prime Necron cried out in pain. Slowly, Gogoziel pulled Mordin just inches away from him. “You should not have attacked him. He has been sanctified by Satan himself and ordained to wear his mantel for all mortality to witness.” With his two powerfully muscled arms, Gogoziel placed his grossly large hands on either side of Mordin’s head. “You should not have disobeyed.” It took only a fraction of a second, but Jesolin heard the large crunch as Mordin’s head was crushed by the awesome strength of Gogoziel’s hands. Mordin’s headless corpse fell to the ground with a soft thud. As it did, Jesolin inhaled deeply as the effects of the spell were released.

  “You have become week, little mortal,” said Gogoziel as he returned to his visage of mortality striding over to Jesolin who had finally reached a seated position. “Do you required assistance to stand?” asked the demon as he extended his hand.

  But Jesolin slapped it away correctly sensing it was a mocked gesture, “I require nothing!” he spat.

  “Clearly you did, little mortal,” replied the demon. Jesolin stood. “Had I not intervened, you would have been pulled into the void of non-existence and been beyond all assistance.”

  Squaring his shoulders and looking directl
y in the demon’s hell-bent eyes, Jesolin said, “I needed nothing from you!”

  “Indeed,” responded the hell creature.

  The two powerful combatants stood in a hated silence for several moments until they were interrupted by a smooth and steady voice, “Well, that was certainly entertaining. But I think my friend here almost soiled himself when the demon transformed.”

  Both Gogoziel and Jesolin turned to attend the voice and saw a tall, slender man accompanied by a large, robust man entering the large throne room. The slender man was robed all in black, but the blackness of his robes was comprised of different shades and was intricately woven with multiple shades of grey in rune like patters. His walk projected a serpentine smoothness and confidence contrasting the larger man’s completely. He had seen this man once before, when he had just taken the Stone Keep as his own. And while this lithe and smooth man had asked his permission to venture to the elves, he portrayed nothing suggesting he came here for another subtle act of subservience. Differing greatly from the smooth gait of the slender man, the larger man, one whom he had not seen before, walked much more apprehensively, lacking any of his companion’s innate confidence. His robes were also a stark contrast to the colorless shades worn by the more slender of the two. There was red, blue, yellow, green all arranged in an ornate and overtly gaudy patchwork of different shapes and shades. While the slender man was singularly focused on Jesolin and Gogoziel, the other man looked around anxiously, nervously glancing over his shoulder several times.

  Both Gogoziel and Jesolin glanced at each other after the slender man had stopped only feet from them. Never mind the audacity of entering the throne room unannounced and with no appointment, he was seemingly unaffected by both Jesolin’s and Gogoziel’s imposing persona. “My Lord Jesolin Kahl, may I present to you Amoos Trask. He will be overseeing your magically enhanced food program, specifically the distribution logistics.”

  “I see you have returned from your business with the elves,” said Jesolin coldly.

  “Indeed, I have,” said Esthinor.

  “Did you meet with as much success as you had hoped?” asked the young Lord of the Blood Keep.

  “Yes. They proved to be quite profitable. “Now, to the point, may I present to you, Amoos Trask?”

  “No you may not,” answered Gogoziel, “because you have not presented yourself.”

  “Have I not?” said the slender man as he warmly smiled. “Please forgive me,” Esthinor said as he attended to Gogoziel’s challenge with ease, “I am Esthinor Tansa, Grand Wizard of The University of Knowledge and High Wizard of The Council of Wizards.”

  “We have no need of you, Wizard,” said Gogoziel in response, clearly challenging the mortal.

  “Oh?” he answered, glancing to Mordin’s dead body, pausing slightly. “Recent events would suggest otherwise. It has come to my attention that you have met with a recent difficulty regarding your plans. I am here to suggest Amoos, my good friend here, as a replacement. I can assure you, his knowledge in this area is sufficient as he began this movement years ago. He already has connections throughout the Silver Empire reaching even into Pretago Cor itself.”

  “And what area is that exactly?” asked Jesolin.

  “Magically enhanced food, of course,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I am not in the habit of accepting assistance from those outside my already sufficient contingency,” said Jesolin. “Why should we trust you?

  “Yes, under normal circumstances and under the previous leadership, you should not. But since your insurgence, and my rather opportune ascendance, a whole new area of knowledge has been opened, an area that must be studied and propagated,” said Esthinor smoothly.

  “I see,” replied Jesolin.

  “My Lord, The University has been slowly changing its focus from the pursuit of pure knowledge to the active involvement in deciding which knowledge should or should not be pursued. And unfortunately, that was never the intended direction when the High Council of Wizards was created ages ago. But rest assured, our mission will be returning to that which it should have never strayed from: the pure study and propagation of all knowledge without regard to subjective influences. As a result, The Council, and hence, The University as a whole, will not be meddling in concerns and affairs where questions of knowledge are not directly threatened. Really, my lord, I am surprised you do not remember our first conversation. I thought it would have been sufficient to rest any of your doubts,” replied the slender Grand Wizard.

  “Is that so?” questioned Jesolin.

  “Indeed it is, my lord. We Wizards are above such petty struggles as power, rule, and reign. We are here for knowledge alone. In all honesty, we do not care who rules the land as long as knowledge itself is not threatened. We are now concerned with knowledge and nothing else. You have my word as The Grand Wizard,” he said as he bowed low.

  “Time will tell, Wizard. But if you attempt to impose your will upon mine, you will find yourself standing against a foe of unimaginable potency. A foe you will not be able to stop,” threatened Jesolin.

  “Yes, yes, threats and threats. I am well aware of the consequences, my lord; but as I just finished stating, ours is a concern of knowledge only. And because you have ushered in a new era of knowledge, we have decided to assist you in that endeavor only. Which is why I have brought my good friend to you,” he said as he placed his arm around Amoos’s shoulders guiding him into the central focus of attention. “Now,” continued Esthinor, “if I have adequately put to rest all of your concerns, my lord,” he paused for consent. After seeing Jesolin’s subtle nod, he continued, “I present Amoos Trask, the foremost expert on magically enhanced food.”

  The large man nervously stepped forward, “Yes, well, thank you Grand Wizard Esthinor. And might I congratulate you on your recent victory, Lord Kahl. It is most impressive how you were able to do what none have been able to do before.”

  “You have seen only a fraction of our plans for Avendia. Now, why should I consider your assistance valuable?” asked Jesolin, using all of his steeled glare to diminish the stature and confidence of Amoos.

  “It is my understanding that all research and production of magically enhanced food is now under the direction of The University of Knowledge instead of the several factions each vying to be the first to profit from its success. Under this centralized control, there will need to be a single head of development of a non-magical nature. My recent friend, Grand Wizard Esthinor, saw myself as the most logical choice considering I have already provided food for several of the High King’s events and have distribution pathways already in the works throughout most of the Silver Empire,” he said growing in confidence as he spoke.

  “It sounds like you should be talking to your friend, the Grand Wizard, about a position since they are assuming a centralized control of the program,” Jesolin said as he inclined his head toward Esthinor “I fail to see the connection with me and my plans.”

  “Oh, did I not mention,” interjected the Grand Wizard, “As a matter of business, I am turning over all operations related to the magical concerns, to you.”

  “And why would you do that?” asked Gogoziel.

  “Because,” answered Esthinor, “you have ushered in a new era of magic that is completely independent of magical study as we know it. We know the effects of our magic. Long has it been studied, but we do not know the effects of yours. Nor do we really know anything else about it for that matter. So, I can think of no better solution than allowing you control over a program we have already begun while noting the differences between approaches.”

  “And what type of oversight would I be subjected to?” asked Jesolin.

  “Oversight? From The University? Why none, naturally,” answered Esthinor with a chuckle.

  “None?” asserted Jesolin.

  “None. You see, My Lord, ours is not the place to intercede, but to observe and document. Amoos will assume control over the distribution under your direction. You will then be giv
en full access to the farms that have already begun the process. But our Wizards will be replaced by your Necromancers. Of course, there will have to be some exchange of information between our respective institutions of magic. We have many wizards who have already perfected the process and could benefit your progress if allowed to instruct your necromancers in some of the intricacies of this type of magic,” said Esthinor, placing his hand on Amoos’s shoulder drawing his attention away from the horrible sight of Mordin’s headless corpse.

  “What do you require from us in return?” Jesolin asked knowing that nothing was ever offered without a subsequent price.

  “Require? Why, I require nothing. Consider this a gift to celebrate your new regime and potential for greatness,” answered Esthinor smoothly.

  Action. He thought to himself. Action, the end of all emotion, is the predisposition to greatness and accomplishment. He had much to accomplish, and none of it would ever be if he did not act definitively and concisely, without hesitation. His goals were much larger than the Silver Empire, but everything began there. If he was to introduce its people to the true reflection of his master, then he would need something on a grand scale to yield the substantially large results of total domination. But he was reluctant to move without the direct leading of Satan’s consent. For a brief moment, he gripped his power and reached out to his Lord one more time. Although the connection allowed for the transference of knowledge between he and Satan to occur in only a moment, to Jesolin, the silent seconds felt like hours. Not only was Satan not answering, he simply was not even there.