“Yes, My Lord. Thank you, my lord,” said the large man as he stood up, albeit under some strain, and quickly exited the chamber.
“Excellent!” responded Esthinor, “I believe my inclusion will prove to be even more beneficial than his.”
“We will see,” responded Jesolin. “Now, if there are no more interruptions,” he said as Esthinor sat down within the rune recently vacated by Amoos, “let us begin. Grand Wizard Esthinor, are you familiar with the power we utilize?”
“I have recently familiarized myself with it thanks to our study of your Necromancers and their techniques for magically enhancing food,” he said. “Although still rudimentary, I believe I understand the principles soundly enough to engage as an active participant with little to no leading.”
“Good. But you will need more than just familiarity. Can you utilize it?” asked Jesolin.
“I believe I can, yes,” said the Grand Wizard, “albeit, not with the efficacy of yourself. However, my skills should be sufficient.”
“Very well. Let us begin,” said Lord Jesolin. “I require that all of you access your power and direct it into your hearts, as much of it as you can. You will feel their beating increase in intensity. You will also notice how all of your hearts will instinctively sync with the rhythm of mine. Once I have collected enough power, I will signal you to pick up the daggers in front of you and plunge them into your hearts. Do not worry, you will incur no injury. Yes, you will feel your blood being pulled into the daggers. Indeed, you may even feel as if you are dying, but nothing ill will befall you. Once the daggers have been filled, I will signal you to plunge them into the center of your blood rune. From that moment on, you will be able to release your power. It will no longer be needed.” He waited in case there were any questions, but when there were none, he folded his hands inside the sleeves of his black silk robe and said, “Begin.”
Each of the eleven participants did as they were instructed. Their collective powers leapt, even Esthinor’s, sensing the gravity of this moment and the sacredness of their inclusion as vital components. Under their usual engagements of the Dark Fountain, the direction of its focus was distal to their physical centers. Consequently, some of the members, those less adept at utilizing the power to enhance their own physicality, required a few more moments before their powers were sufficiently directed within. Though Esthinor was expertly versed in almost all forms of magic, he was not, beyond a simple acquaintance, familiar with the dark fountain. However, not only was his performance as fluid as the Warbringers, he seemed to possess more power than all except Exein.
Once each of their hearts mimicked the calm rhythm of Jesolin’s, he signaled them to grasp their daggers, “Now, embrace your purpose and plunge them deep into your hearts.” As they did, each one of them felt no pain, but that is not to say they felt no discomfort. Feeling the blood that gives one life being pulled from the heart into the blood daggers instead of into the body for distribution was unlike anything any of them had felt before. Some of their eyes grew wide with fear, others closed them to assist in bearing the feeling, and yet others grasp the daggers with two hands to prevent them from instinctively pulling it out. All but one had a reaction Jesolin had anticipated. All but Esthinor displayed some type of struggle upon their faces. While the others grimaced, Esthinor grinned.
Jesolin felt the Blood Daggers drinking deeply from the fountain enhanced liquid pouring from his subjects’ hearts. It was remarkable to him just how much they could hold, but such was the potential of the blades infused with the dark power’s hate during the forging process. Had they not been protected by the same dark magics that were now drinking their life away, he was sure they would have died by now, but none of them showed signs of having their life force weakened. “Now, plunge them into the runes!”
In one collective motion, some prompted by the relief of the awful feeling, others prompted by obedience, and others because of the expected results from completing the ritual, the daggers were removed and driven hilt deep into the stone floor. Remarkably, the blades did not break, nor were they even scratched as they slid effortlessly into a substance that should have shattered them. Almost instantaneously, the collected, power enhanced blood was emptied into the blood runes, now glowing an eerie dark shade of crimson. When the light from the runes bathed the entire chamber in the eerie luminescence, Jesolin’s blood-rune pulsed. The more brightly his glowed, the dimmer the others became, as if the power and blood was being transferred from one to the other. At its apex, Jesolin’s rune glowed so brightly that he was almost completely concealed by the crimson light.
And then, when the light had almost become too intense to witness, he removed his own dagger from the stone floor and plunged it deep into his heart. However, unlike the bloodless wounds of the eleven other participants, his blood openly poured from his, the way water poured forth from a broken dam. His robes became soaked in his dark, red life. And as it spilled onto the floor, his face began draining of color. But instead of the random pooling one expected, his blood followed a distinctly directed purpose. As it continued to pour from the blood dagger’s wound, it collected into eleven different streams slowly creeping toward the eleven participants. When Jesolin’s blood touched the other blood-runes, they began to glow again; however, the color had changed from the crimson red, to a deep shade of indigo.
As the glow intensified, it began to form small, wisp-like tendrils that reached for the subjects sitting within the runes. The small tendrils slowly wrapped around their wrists like snakes slowly binding their prey in their constrictive grasps. Then, two larger tendrils grew out of the blood runes and began slithering up each of their bodies. One of the larger tendrils split and surrounded the eyes, while the other inserted itself inside their mouths. Each of the eleven were held by the indigo tendrils, suspended from movement, thought, even breath. Even Esthinor had become enthralled by some type of rapture as the tendrils poured into him an equal portion of Jesolin’s soul.
When the power had exhausted itself, the tendrils dissipated into the air, the blood runes ceased to glow, and Jesolin fell face-forward onto the now bloodless floor. Those who participated were breathless, but were otherwise unharmed. Endonis and Exein fell forward, catching themselves with their hands. Bractos, or at least the remnants of his body, coughed as if trying to expel the tendrils from his throat. Grothock, Suony, and Gin’ev were sitting motionlessly staring into some unknown abyss. Mein, Hurdon, and Guoth Mot were openly, though silently, fighting the battle of preventing tears from spilling over their eyes. The nameless necromancer fell backward and stared into, or beyond, the ceiling. All but Esthinor were having difficulty adjusting to the inclusion of another’s soul within theirs. While they struggled to regain their calm countenances, he sat, cross-legged, in the peaceful embrace of joy. As for Jesolin, he appeared to be dead. If it was not for the presence of his soul within theirs, they would have assumed as much.
“My Lord?” asked Exein first, not as much concerned as he was curious of Jesolin’s state. When Jesolin offered no response greater than his continued position on the floor, he repeated his question, “My Lord Jesolin, are you well?”
Ten of the gathered participants looked around at each other, all of them forming ill intentioned, silent plans. Never had Jesolin been even remotely as vulnerable as he was now. Being utterly unable to defend himself allowed their thoughts to entertain what had never been possible before. Though it was always in their minds, resulting naturally from the hate they felt for all things, including him, it was never more than a fictional hope, a fantasy that would never come to pass. But now, seeing him completely unresponsive, it gave rise to an infinity of potentials. In a matter of only seconds, each of the nine original Warbringers reached to their power, holding it firmly and ready to strike with it should any one of them act with aggression.
“Well, shall we let the cards play out as they will, or should we just kill him now?” asked Gin’ev, always the plotting tactician.
“To what end?” came a strong voice.
“What was that?” challenged Gin’ev.
“I asked, to what end?” repeated Esthinor.
“I do not believe it is your place to speak here, wizard,” stated Gin’ev. Though the elder of those gathered, except for Esthinor who, through the influence of his talent, had lived much longer than all of them, he spoke with a resounding strength.
“What are you proposing, Gin’ev?” asked Grothock.
“Nothing more than what has, at times, consumed each of our thoughts,” he answered.
“It has long been a custom of my tribes to act upon the opportunities given. When we were presented with the opening to raid our opposing tribes, we took it. We did not wait and wonder about the consequences because the consequence of not acting would be felt on the steel of our foes when they acted,” interjected Guoth in support of the unspoken suggestion.
“What happens then?” asked Suony The Serpent. “Who then will lead?”
“Who says we need to have a leader or that we need to continue upon his goals? We all have our assignments. Can we not act on them still, each in our own separate endeavors and live like kings?” he said.
“What of Vismorda?” asked Exein. “Should she not have a say in this?”
“We all know the only reason for her ascent is because she is a willing whore. I would think she would grasp at the opportunity and adhere herself to one of us, should the opportunity arise,” answered Gin’ev.
“What of the plans for the Silver Empire?” asked Grothock. “Do we abandon them altogether? And what of the recent agreement with The University?” he asked as he turned to Esthinor. “You have been strangely quiet, Wizard? What do you say?”
Esthinor smiled, smoothly uncrossed his legs, and in one motion, stood. He walked around to where Jesolin still lay, the young lord’s shallow breaths betraying his portrayal of death, and spoke, “What are you asking of me? Are you asking my ignorance as you kill your leader, or are you asking me to assist with his demise? If it is the former, I could continue with my life losing absolutely no sleep in its wake. However, if it is the latter, I must decline as a matter of adherence to the foundational principle of The University of Knowledge. We do not involve ourselves in anything that does not directly involve the propagation and preservation of knowledge itself. But consider this: can you kill him without my assistance?” The Grand Wizard walked around to stand in in front of the fallen Jesolin. “As you look at him, do you see him only in his bodily form? Because if you do, then your answer would undoubtedly be yes. If, however, you see his strength flowing from a substance not governed by mortality, then it would be folly to presume that yours would be sufficient to outmatch his.”
“We presume nothing, wizard,” hissed Gin’ev. “We have the numbers, even if bereft of your assistance. I am confident the nine of us could handle Lord Kahl even at his best. And now, there would be no question,” he said as he gestured toward Jesolin.
Looking behind him, Esthinor continued, “Ah yes, questions. But that is it, is it not? The key to all knowledge begins with the right question. So, to your point of ridding yourself of your leader and all going your own way, something you will never be able to do if he is alive, I have observed that you have left unasked the only question you should be asking.”
“And that is?” asked Gin’ev.
“Whether his master will allow it,” said Esthinor flatly. When he saw the collective hesitation of the nine Warbringers, he continued, “Have you not considered it? I am quite sure you are all aware that your young Lord serves a Master who has protected and developed him over the years into the exact vessel required for the completion of his desires. Do you not think he will remain protective of his investment even now?” Before any of the nine could respond, Esthinor looked behind himself again and saw that Jesolin had begun to stir, “Well then, if you plan to act, I suggest you act quickly.” After a few moments had passed and he was satisfied no one present would confront Jesolin, the Grand Wizard knelt down and assisted the young lord to his feet.
“Thank you, Grand Wizard. I had not anticipated the imbuing of my soul into others to cause such a dramatic effect upon myself. How long was I unconscious for?” asked Jesolin, as he stood.
“Only moments, my lord. Only moments,” he answered.
“Good. That is good. I would hate to see what my Warbringers might do to me had my vulnerability lasted long enough for them to gather their courage,” he said as he glanced around at each one with a small grin.
“I am quite certain they would have remained loyal even if the opportunity had presented itself. But since it did not, we will never truly know,” answered Esthinor as he placed both hands on each of Jesolin’s shoulders to square and steady him. “Now, if you are feeling well, I will take my leave. I must find Amoos. We both have things to attend to.”
“Of course. Thank you for your assistance, Grand Wizard,” said Jesolin as he straightened his black silk robes. Turning to address the ten still remaining, he continued, “All of you have my thanks. As you know, we are not often told of the reasons behind our Master’s plans at the moment of their execution. While I am convinced this ritual will present itself as useful, I can offer no insight into why He directed each of you to carry a portion of my soul, nor can I offer any further insights into what will happen next. Give me a moment and I will begin summoning you to discuss your assignments.”
“Assignments?” interjected Exein, “I have been given no assignment.”
“Indeed, you have not, Exein. None of you have yet,” but before he could continue a voice interrupted him from the entrance.
“My Lord, Vismorda has returned,” said the servant.
“Is that so?” responded Jesolin.
“Yes, My Lord. She just now returned,” answered the servant.
“Was she alone?” he asked.
“No, My Lord, she was not,” he answered.
“Please excuse me,” he said turning back to the Warbringers. “I will be visiting each of you before day’s end. See to your duties and make ready. We have much to accomplish.” Without waiting for a response, he turned quickly and strode purposefully out of the room without a trace of any lingering weakness.
“Make sure you eat well, little ones, you will need your strength once you being your training again,” she said as she served Malice and Vile their meals. When they returned to the stone keep, she had thought they would be exhausted from their journey, but their hungers’ need to be sated had apparently given each of their energies a boost. Instead of taking them directly to their room, she walked them to the kitchens and instructed the staff to prepare whatever the girls wanted. Though she would have preferred a balance of meats and vegetables to prepare their bodies for the coming days, both girls wanted only meat.
“I do not want vegetables,” said Malice in response to Vismorda’s insistence.
“Neither do I,” agreed Vile.
“But you should have them, littles ones. They provide energies that meat cannot,” she said.
“You can serve them, but we will not eat them,” answered Malice.
She had thought their wills would be subdued as a result of their recent ordeal, but they were nothing if not bolstered. Had this been simply a display of childish assertiveness wherein their only goal was to protest for protestation’s sake, she would have definitively asserted her dominance, but there was no defiance in the girls’ responses, only an expression of their desire to consume meat and meat alone. “Very well,” she relented, “you may have only meat. But beginning tomorrow, your diets will include other foods as well. You will need it.”
As various forms of meat, from smoked chicken to grilled pork and ending with large turkey legs, were systematically and quickly consumed by the ravaged hungers of her two little girls, she could not help but smile. Never before had she seen such small children consume such large quantities of food without apology.
“They still have the majority of th
eir strength, I see,” said Jesolin’s unmistakable voice from behind her. She was hoping for a longer reprieve after her return, but was not surprised with his quick appearance. He was strongly attached to both Malice and Vile, perhaps more so then he was attached to her, if he was still capable of attachment.
“Yes, they have deep reserves of resilience,” she agreed.
“It will be most pleasing to see them become everything they can,” added Jesolin, expectant thirst lacing his voice.
“Yes, it will. But I fear their exhaustion will surface once their bellies have been filled. They have been through much,” she said, hoping he would agree with her.
“We have all been through much, Vismorda,” he said as he walked to stand next to her.
“I am concerned only for their well-being as it relates to your desire, my Lord,” she lied.
“I am sure you are,” he said as he turned and stroked her face with the back of his index finger. “I am pleased with the success of your mission. But I am not sure about its price.”
“My Lord?” she said, indicating her need for clarification.
“You do not,” he paused, “feel the same.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I am not sure exactly. I can feel you as much as I did before. And the part that I do feel is precisely the same. But,” he said, pausing again.
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