The Brand of the Warlock

by Robert Kroese

  “The blood is yours if you help me cast Eben out and return Beata to her own body.”

  The demon shook his head reluctantly. “What you ask for is beyond my power. The girl has been apart from her body for far too long.”

  “Then take me to someone who has the power.”

  The demon laughed. “Do you think one of the Masters can be bought with a few drops of blood? It makes no difference. Even Arnyek himself could not reunite the girl with her body now. The shadow self becomes acclimated to this place after a few weeks, and she has been here over six years, as time is accounted in your world. No one has ever gone back after so much time. Leave her be.”

  “And allow her to continue living as a mere shade of herself, trapped in this dungeon for eternity?”

  The demon shrugged again. “It is no great torment to live without a memory in such a place. You have been imprisoned yourself, have you not? You know that true torment comes from memory and imagination. She has neither. She finds herself in a prison and attempts to leave. This is the entirety of her existence, and I daresay it is more tolerable than that of many of your kind.”

  Beata had been listening to the conversation intently, with the look of someone who felt she should understand but does not. When the demon described her imprisonment, an expression of pain washed over her face.

  “Your opinion on the matter notwithstanding,” I said to the demon, “I will not have her go on this way.”

  “Then we come to the heart of the matter. If you would end her suffering, such as it is, I could be persuaded to assist you.”

  “You mean you would kill her.”

  “She is already dead. As you say, she is but a shade of herself. If I were to douse the lamp, she would dissipate completely.”

  “What of these accords you must comply with?”

  “Eben is in arrears in his payments, and his blood does not have the power it once did, owing to his loss of the brand. The Masters are unaware of the girl’s presence, and I risk their wrath by keeping her here. It may be that I will forget to fill the lamp at some point.”

  “Please, Konrad,” Beata said, “if it is possible, please let it be done. I do not want to go on this way. In a way I think it is worse not to remember, for I am eternally in a state of wondering what it is I have lost.”

  “The demon may be lying,” I said. “There may yet be a way to return you to your body.”

  “I do not think so, Konrad. I can’t explain it, but I feel as if I have lost some fundamental part of myself. You speak of returning to another body, but this is the only body I know. In truth, I cannot remember what it is like to eat or sleep; I know that I must have done so, but the idea seems foreign to me. In the same way, I know that I should be delighted to see you again, but all I feel is relief that this ordeal may end.”

  It pained me to hear Beata speak this way, but I could not bear to have her remain in that place. Despite my assurances to her, I too suspected the demon spoke the truth: it was clear that Beata had been diminished by her stay in the dungeon. Even speaking seemed to require great effort, and when she was not speaking, it was almost as if she were not there at all. Still, I feared being taken advantage of by the demon; it seemed all too eager to help. But I did not have much time to haggle: even as I spoke, I felt some of my awareness being pulled back to the material world. Pain gripped my shadow self. Eben had begun to extract the brand. I doubted it would take him more than a few seconds; I might have three or four minutes in the shadow world.

  “If Beata wishes it,” I said, gritting my teeth to hide the pain, “then I would bid you to extinguish the lamp. But I require another service in exchange for my blood: Eben the Warlock must die.”

  The demon laughed. “Do you imagine I would anger the warlock if he were going to live? If Beata’s shadow self perishes, her body will die, and Eben along with her.”

  “Then do it,” I said. “And quickly.” I turned away, affecting impatience, so that the demon would not see the pain on my face, nor the brand fading. Soon my physical body would be dead and I would be trapped in the shadow world. My only worry, though, was that Eben would finish before Beata had been released: then the demon would realize he had been cheated: my blood would be worthless, and he would keep Beata alive for fear of angering the warlock.

  “If I extinguish the flame, the blood is mine?”

  “Yes,” I said, through clenched jaw.

  The demon didn’t seem to notice my torment. He reached over Beata’s head and removed the lantern from its hook. Beata turned to me with terror in her eyes, and I had to resist the urge to cry out to her for fear that the demon would pause in his task. He reached into the lamp with his fingers, intending to extinguish the flame. Before he could do so, a surge of energy flowed through my shadow self. The draining sensation was gone. Had Eben been interrupted? Perhaps Vili had returned and killed Eben before he could finish. The light winked out, and I was left in the dark with the demon. Beata was gone.

  I forced some of my awareness back to the material world just as Beata’s body collapsed on top of me. I was too weak even to check her pulse, but I knew she was dead. I was alone on the plain; Vili was nowhere to be seen. But if Eben hadn’t been interrupted, then why had he stopped short of taking the brand?

  I realized with sudden horror that I knew the answer: Eben had somehow figured out what I was doing. Rather than remaining in a body that was doomed to perish, he had retreated to the shadow world. And now that I had returned to my material body, my shadow self was defenseless against him. Eben might now be powerless in the material world, but I didn’t doubt he could orchestrate some torments for me in that dark castle. I tried to shift my full awareness to my material body but found myself unable to do it. I did not know if this was the result of some sorcery of Eben’s, my bargain with the demon, or simply the weakness of my physical body, but I found myself pulled back into the shadow world. Indeed, it felt as if the connection with my material body had been severed. This was death, then, I thought.

  I found myself seated in a chair in a small room lit by a lamp that approximated ordinary light. Everything in the shadow world was gray and faded in comparison to our world, but that dim yellow light seemed positively cheery compared to the garish red light that had sustained Beata. Across the room from me sat Eben the Warlock, looking as he had when I first encountered him some six years earlier—except for the brand, which I still carried. The demon stood against the wall to my left. Neither of them seemed pleased with me.

  “He stirs,” said the warlock to the demon. He turned to face me. “Szarvas Gyerek tells me you have been bargaining with him.”

  “I freed her,” I said defiantly. “You may have escaped to this place, but you will never return to the other world.”

  “That may be,” said Eben, “but you have given little thought to your own fate.”

  “My own death is of no great concern.”

  “Death!” Eben laughed. “No, you will not be so fortunate. You have promised your blood to a demon, and he plans to collect.”

  “I promised him my blood, not my soul.”

  “Where do you think a sorcerer’s soul resides, you fool? It is this very essence that gives the blood its value. If you give your last drop of blood to a demon, he owns your soul as well. Did you not think Szarvas Gyerek agreed to your bargain too easily? You thought to deceive him but, sensing your desperation, he got the better of you.”

  I had the sickening sense Eben spoke the truth. In my haste to free Beata and kill Eben, I had allowed myself to be taken in. But I was not certain I would have had done anything different if I had known. “I am here only because you failed to take the brand.”

  “The brand would be worthless to me if I were dead, as you well know.”

  “Then I suppose the three of us will remain here for eternity.”

  “It would be justice indeed if you were sentenced to serve Szarvas Gyerek until the end of time,” Eben said, “but fortunately for you, I hav
e other plans. You see, I have made a bargain with Szarvas Gyerek myself.”

  Fear gripped me. Had Eben somehow arranged for Szarvas Gyerek to return him to the physical world? Was Beata not truly dead?

  “You are right to fear,” Eben said, reading my thoughts, “but not for the reason you think. We have been enemies, but I am not the one you should fear. Voros Korom intends to destroy Nagyvaros, and because of you, I am unable to stop him. Without a vessel to claim, I am trapped in Veszedelem. You, however, may still return.”

  “What trickery is this?” I asked. “You said yourself I am to remain here forever.”

  “That was your fate, yes. But as I say, I have made a bargain with Szarvas Gyerek. He has agreed to allow me to serve in your place.”

  Taken aback by this statement, I did not reply.

  The demon spoke: “A man with Eben’s knowledge is worth more to me than a naif with a warlock’s brand.”

  I looked from Szarvas Gyerek to Eben. “Why would you do this?”

  “Not for your sake, I assure you,” Eben said. “You may not believe it, but I care deeply about the fate of Nagyvaros. I would not see it despoiled by Voros Korom. And lest you think this is small sacrifice on my part, I will tell you that although Veszedelem is a dismal place, there is a significant difference between being a free man here and a servant of one such as Szarvas Gyerek—particularly for a warlock such as myself. A man with the blood can do well for himself in this place. As you no doubt are aware, this very keep was constructed by one of our kind, and he once ruled a vast swath of the plain and the mountains beyond. His only mistake was to attempt to return to Orszag; the transition after so much time in the shadow world drove him insane. If he had been content to remain here, he might have ruled the entirety of Veszedelem. I myself might have aspired to such a role, but now I must content myself with the humiliation of serving a lower-tier demon.”

  Szarvas Gyerek seemed amused by this outburst; he said nothing.

  “You would send me back to my physical form?” I asked dubiously.

  “I would.”

  “How? The life has left my body. I felt the connection sever.”

  “Your body is not yet cold. It is a simple matter to send you back and restore enough of your strength to allow you to heal completely. It will require a little blood; what Szarvas Gyerek has collected from you already should suffice.” He held up a small vial with a little dark liquid in it.

  “I assume there are conditions?”

  “Only one: you must agree to stop Voros Korom.”

  “Stop Voros Korom! You yourself said he cannot be stopped!”

  “I said it is unlikely. But you have the brand, and I will offer you what assistance I can.”

  “And if I fail?”

  “If Voros Korom destroys Nagyvaros, your life is forfeit, and you must return here to serve Szarvas Gyerek.”

  “You have agreed to this, Szarvas Gyerek?” I asked. “I thought Eben was worth more to you than I?”

  “I will remain in his service as well,” Eben said. “But if you fail, I will be freed after a year, as time is reckoned in Orszag.”

  “Time enough for you to learn to fill the role,” Szarvas Gyerek said with an amused smile. Indeed, I thought: a year in Orszag was more like a hundred here.

  I considered the offer. Remain in this dismal place, a slave to Szarvas Gyerek, or return to the physical world in order to pursue an impossible task? Really, it was no choice at all: if I returned to my physical body, I would at least live until Voros Korom returned to Nagyvaros. And if I refused, Eben would be free to roam the shadow world. He might even find a way to return to the physical world. If there were any chance to keep that from happening, I had to take it. But something else still troubled me about the bargain.

  “Your motivations are split,” I said. “You would benefit from my failure.”

  “I have chosen this fate,” Eben said coldly. “I do not expect a man like you, driven by his own vain desires, to understand, but I would gladly choose a life of servitude in exchange for the salvation of Nagyvaros.”

  I nodded, considering his words. I did not doubt he was telling the truth after a fashion, but I did not truly believe he intended to serve his full sentence. Even at that moment he was scheming to improve his position. Whether or not Voros Korom succeeded in destroying Nagyvaros, Eben the Warlock was not finished.

  “Then I will stop Voros Korom,” I said. “Nagyvaros will not fall.” I had intended this pronouncement as a mere formality, signifying my acceptance of the bargain. But as I spoke them, I realized that I fully intended to do everything in my power to save the city. I had been unable to save Beata, although she was at last at peace, but I would save Nagyvaros.

  Szarvas Gyerek smiled, whether from satisfaction with the agreement or amusement at my naivete I did not know. Eben got to his feet. I saw that he had unstoppered the vial of blood. “Good,” he said. “Return to the city. It should be safe for now. When you have healed, come find me here and I will instruct you in how to proceed.”

  Before I could reply, Eben reached out with his right hand, now covered with the blood from the vial. I felt the warmth of the blood on my forehead, and suddenly I was back in Orszag. Vili was hunched over me, calling my name. Beata’s body lay by my side.

  Seeing my eyes open, Vili uttered a cry of relief. “You are alive! I thought you were dead for certain!”

  “I may have been,” I said. “But I have been returned to you, for it seems my work is unfinished. Help me sit up.”

  Vili did so, seeming baffled at my sudden recovery. In truth, I was still very weak, but I was no longer on the verge of death. Vili had put the bandage back on my arm.

  “You were unable to get help?” I asked.

  Vili bit his lip. “The shepherds in the vicinity are suspicious types.”

  “No doubt they are wary of being pulled away from their flocks for fear they are being duped by a thief.”

  “The thought had occurred to me. It seems our deeds come back to us after all.”

  “It is all right,” I said. “I think I can walk to the next village, at least.”

  “Rest a bit,” Vili said. “We will have to leave the horses to rot, but we should bury the woman.”

  I nodded, seeing the wisdom of this. Vili got me some water and blankets, and I dozed fitfully while he dug a grave for Beata. I was too weak to be of much help, but I said a few words once she was laid in the ground. I did not weep, for my Beata had been lost to me for some time, and her body had been defiled by the warlock. I felt only relief that she was at rest. Vili seemed to sense my ambivalence; he never asked who the woman was or how she came to find us here. We did not mark the site. It was a shallow grave, but it would suffice to discourage the animals of the plain. When Vili had finished, I got to my feet.

  “We should not tarry here,” I said. “We are as likely to meet bandits as shepherds on this road, and I am in no shape to fight.”

  “Then we are returning to Nagyvaros?” I could not be certain, but Vili seemed almost disappointed.

  “You wish to remain here?”

  “No. I hate this place. But I have reason to stay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I did not tell you before, because you were so insistent that I leave. You see, I was traveling through the valley with my parents a few months ago. We had camped just east of the ruins. I was unable to sleep and went to look for firewood by the light of the moon, and when I returned to camp, my parents were gone. Since then, I have remained near the ruins, exploring them when the wraiths were weak, hoping to find some sign of them.”

  I was speechless. Having thought of Vili as some orphaned delinquent who had found the ruins a convenient place to hide and make a living off the local shepherds, I had never considered he might have his own reasons for haunting this place.

  “We will return,” I said, “and I will try to help you find your parents. It should be no great challenge to explore the ruins now tha
t the wraiths have gone. But you must understand that by now….”

  “I know they are dead,” said Vili, with the cold certainty of one who had given a matter a great deal of thought. “I only hope to determine that they are at peace, and not….”

  I nodded. Vili could not bear the thought that his parents had been drawn into one of the collectives of tortured souls that made up the wraiths. “In that case,” I said, “I suspect we will have to remain together somewhat longer. I have been charged with preventing that demon from laying waste to Nagyvaros. I do not know how to stop him, but I intend to learn what I can about such monsters. It may be that I can learn the fate of your parents in the process—and, if they suffer, perhaps how to bring them peace.”

  “Then I shall remain at your side,” Vili said. “And we will learn how to defeat the beast together.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  We walked until I could go no farther. Despite Eben’s assurances that I would live, I had lost too much blood to make it to the next village. I told Vili I needed to rest for a moment to regain my strength, but I knew that if I sat down, I would never get up. Neither could I continue walking: for the last mile, I’d stumbled so often that Vili was exhausted just from trying to keep me upright. We still had some three miles to go. Unless some travelers passed by soon and gave us aid, we would not make it.

  The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east when Vili pointed out a group of figures approaching from the north. Hope quickly gave way to despair as the travelers came closer: this was no merchant caravan, but rather a gang of bandits. They wore tattered clothes, carried clubs and knives, and had a rough look about them. They would be disappointed if they were looking for money: we had only a few ermes on us. But then I remembered the rapier. I wondered if they would let us live if I gave it up without a fight. Probably not. It made little difference; I had no fight left in me.

  “Run, Vili,” I commanded with as much strength as I could muster. The boy could not stand alone against the bandits, but I doubted they could catch him. He was one of the fastest runners I’d ever seen.