Secrets and Spellcraft

by Michael G. Manning

  Will struggled to keep his stomach from emptying itself at the sight. The elementals of the dead men and women rose from the debris and stood looming around him. They were waiting for the inevitable, for the victor to claim them as his own.

  “I’m going to free you. Wait a few minutes.” He staggered out of the room and opened the front door. Then he began dragging the coach drivers, the guard, and the maid inside. He lined them up on the floor of the kitchen where the other servants were sleeping, then he drained the turyn from the maid to ensure she wouldn’t waken.

  After that he straightened up and stretched his back. He was already tired and sore. And the main event hasn’t even started yet, he reminded himself. Will went to the blood-spattered parlor and spent fifteen minutes locating the heart-stone enchantments that controlled the elementals, releasing them one by one. “Go in peace,” he told them each in turn. He phrased his final words in that manner for two reasons, one being to say farewell, and the second being that he didn’t want them to set fire to the city before fading away.

  The house was secure, at least until someone came looking for the people who wouldn’t be going home. There was also the possibility of a late-arriving guest. Will double-checked to make sure he’d locked the front door. Anyone that wanted to come in would have to deal with both the locked outer gate and the door. That left one entrance. Will went through the kitchen and locked and barred the back door.

  He stepped carefully through the sleeping servants and returned to his hostage, the unconscious Duchess Arenata. Will was surprised to see that despite the fact that he’d drained her of turyn only a few minutes ago, she was already beginning to come around. For a sorceress he wouldn’t have been surprised, but for a normal wizard or warlock he found it strange. Does she have some hidden source of vitality? He didn’t know. He drained her again, then unchained the door leading to the ritual chamber below.

  As he bent to lift the unconscious woman, he saw the goddamn cat sitting beside her, sniffing the woman’s shoulder. Its nose wrinkled in disgust. “I wondered if you would show up,” Will remarked. “I could have used some help.”

  The cat’s golden eyes fixed on him but there wasn’t a verbal reply. Will could imagine one, however. “I serve my interests, not yours.”

  The journey down the long, winding stairs was miserable. Will was already sore and aching from the battering he had received. His breastplate had deformed enough that it pinched uncomfortably, and carrying a grown woman in his arms only made things worse. He hoped he would have the strength necessary to deal with what would come next. If not, I just murdered a bunch of people for nothing.

  He glanced down and addressed the unconscious duchess. “Except you, but you’re not dead—yet.”

  At the bottom of the stairs he faced the ward once again. This was a major turning point in his plan. He could bypass the ward, but he had no idea if the duchess could. It might be attuned to her person, which was what he hoped, but it might also require a password. If the latter was the case, she might die. And if she dies, I’ll have to use my own blood.

  For a moment he considered simply absorbing the ward’s power and nullifying it. He stretched out his hand to do so but stopped when the goddamn cat hissed. “Don’t,” said the voice of the Cath Bawlg. “The ward is an annoyance for you but a much greater one for the demons. It must remain—for now.”

  “I’m not sure the woman can pass,” explained Will.

  “She can,” replied the cat. “I am the only one who will not.”

  “You’re not coming in with me?” Will felt as though a cold rock had settled in his stomach. “Then what the hell is the point of you showing up at all? You’re just going to watch? You can’t even see through this ward!”

  The cat ignored him, then began cleaning his butt with keen interest. It was easy to see where Will ranked on his list of priorities.

  “Fuck you too,” snapped Will. Cursing a demigod probably wasn’t wise, but he was beyond caring. Making an effort that was becoming familiar to him, he adjusted the turyn that surrounded him and walked through the ward. The duchess survived without apparent harm, though Will wasn’t sure if it was because enough of his turyn had covered her, or whether it was simply that she was attuned already.

  “Either way, it worked,” he said aloud before examining the chamber. It had visibly changed since his previous visit. The crystal in the center was humming, and a vibration filled the entire chamber. The copper runes on the floor were glowing with turyn, while the empty blood channels seemed dead and vacant of power.

  Will crossed the chamber and deposited his burden. Then he arranged the duchess on the pedestal so that her body fit properly within the human-shaped depressions. He removed her shoes then chained her ankles before moving to the other end and chaining her wrists. Doing so made him feel sick. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  From the limnthal he summoned two sheets of paper, the notes he had made while discussing what he would do with Aislinn. They included very particular instructions for the final preparation. Will scanned over the first page, then grimaced. He had forgotten one thing. This just makes it worse, he thought. Removing his belt knife, he began cutting away the duchess’ clothing.

  Aislinn had explained that removing the clothes had less to do with symbolism, and more to do with making sure that none of the victim’s blood was wasted. The cloth and fabric would absorb a significant portion and that might prevent enough from reaching the stone channels. Will closed his eyes at times as he pulled and tugged away the pieces of her dress. He didn’t want to see what he was doing, though it was somewhat unavoidable.

  Amazingly, the duchess regained consciousness once again, prompted perhaps by the feel of cold stone against the skin of her back. She stared up at him in horror. “What are you doing?” she murmured weakly.

  Will clenched his jaw. This just makes it so much worse. But he couldn’t allow himself to follow his normal inclination to mercy. “You know what I’m doing. This is what you planned for Count Spry.”

  “He’s your enemy. Why would you do this?”

  “Because I’d rather protect those you would have killed than satisfy my personal grudges,” said Will.

  “You swore an oath,” she hissed, more energy returning to her by the second.

  “I swore to see to it that the ritual wasn’t stopped,” corrected Will. “I never said I’d let you be the one to finish it.”

  “Treacherous fool!” spat the duchess. “If you stop me, you’ll never have the king’s daughter for your own.”

  “If your way was the only way, I still wouldn’t do it.”

  “Bastard! What do you hope to gain? Who will you kill to pay the price for this?”

  Will’s eyes were hard. “I’m not a warlock. I won’t kill anyone. I don’t bargain with the lives of others.”

  “Yet you’ll spill my blood!”

  “A balance must be found. You began this by taking the life of another. You’ll pay for that crime with your own.”

  “And who are you to judge me?” she said angrily, desperation in her voice.

  “The last true wizard.” It felt strange as he said it, but he felt the truth of it in his bones. Most might look on him as a vigilante, taking justice in his own hands, but the reality was that he was the last member of the order that in times past would have been responsible for her punishment.

  He lifted his knife one last time, choosing where to make the first and final cut.

  Chapter 56

  Aislinn’s instructions had been explicit. “Choose a place that will bleed freely and at length. If she dies too quickly enough blood won’t be spilled. The heart must remain active to pump her living blood into the channels.”

  Will knew plenty about human vasculature, though he never thought he’d be using that knowledge for something like this. The veins in her neck were tempting, but if he nicked the artery there, she would die too rapidly. Rather than risk that, he chose the wrists. He could cut through
both veins and arteries there since they were smaller.

  Arlen Arenata’s eyes bulged as she saw him bring the knife to bear, and she screamed long and loud, thrashing hopelessly against the chains that held her. Will made the cut quickly, drawing hard and pressing down on the blade firmly, severing the flesh of her wrists until the blade found bone.

  The duchess screamed as though hell itself had come to claim her. Which perhaps it has, thought Will. He moved to the other side of her body and repeated his action. Then he turned away, unable to bear the sight of what he had done, but he couldn’t stop the sound of her screams from penetrating his ears.

  With the cuts already made, it wasn’t intensely painful, he knew that, but the mewling curses that Arlen Arenata hurled at him would have made anyone believe she was in excruciating torment. She swore and cursed, but then, as she began to grow gradually weaker, she switched to begging, pleading with him for mercy.

  Will moved to the far side of the chamber and vomited up what little food was in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten well at lunch because of his anxiety, knowing what he would have to do later, but even so he retched and heaved, bringing up pure bile once his stomach was empty. When he finally recovered Arlen’s voice had become faint.

  Will did his best to ignore her, consulting his notes instead and examining the circle so he could identify the control points that Aislinn had told him about. The circle was controlled not by incantations as the stories so often claimed, but by simple, spell-like functions. To alter its function required the controller to move to the appropriate point and create a simple rune that he or she would then connect to the matching rune in the circle. The resulting connection between caster and circle would alter the flow of turyn within the ritual, activating and deactivating different functions.

  He found the points he needed and made a mental note of their locations so he could find them quickly when the need arose. Thus prepared, he checked the progress of the blood through the channels. It had almost reached the end, where it would complete the circle, but the duchess’ wrists had stopped producing blood.

  Steeling his heart, he went and checked his victim. She was unconscious but still alive. Fighting back a fresh wave of nausea, he took out his knife again and made a deep cut on the inside of her thigh. That produced the desired effect.

  By this point Will wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the chamber. He’d had enough. He’d done enough, and he doubted he could ever expunge the horror of those actions from his memory.

  It was then that the sanguine circle finally reached completion. The crystal in the center of the room changed, its light vanishing, being replaced by a fluid darkness that flowed upward to form a massive black orb in the center of the circle. Will fought down a surge of panic. He’d forgotten to prepare his spells. He quickly constructed the spell he wanted and stored it. He wished he could prepare a second one as well, but he needed to be free to form the control runes for the circle.

  A sickening miasma filled the air as a form emerged from the ebon orb. Will thought it was a smell at first, but after a moment he realized it was simply demonic turyn, so potent and concentrated that it threatened to overwhelm his senses. The man-shaped being who stood in front of the orb was powerful in the extreme.

  Will formed the demon-armor spell and cast it. He didn’t hope to protect himself from the demon lord with it, merely offset the effect of its sickening aura. It worked and he moved to the control point he needed.

  “You are not the one who made the compact with me,” declared a silky voice.

  Bracing himself, Will raised his eyes and gazed on the being that had come. What he saw was a man with sharp, cruel features and skin that seemed alternately a deep green or a dark green. The color shimmered back and forth as he studied it. The demon lord was clothed in plate armor constructed from some strange bluish metal. Will responded to his statement. “No, I am not. What is your name?”

  The demon laughed. “What is this?” Then his eyes scanned the room before falling on the still form of Arlen Arenata. “A petty betrayal, what a lovely scene!”

  “Your name, demon,” insisted Will.

  “I am Leykachak, third in rank beneath Madrok himself. I am at your service, assuming the original terms of the compact still hold.”

  Will knelt beside the rune he needed and formed its complementary control rune above his palm. “They do not,” he replied.

  “Ahh, what an adorable warlock you are,” said Leykachak. “Do you wish to renegotiate then?”

  “I think not,” returned Will. “I am not a warlock. I will have no dealings with your kind.”

  “Then you will die,” warned the demon lord. A second form was beginning to emerge from the orb behind it.

  Will activated his rune and the blood circle sizzled, sending up plumes of acrid smoke as it ceased to function. The ebon orb vanished, leaving an arm and leg to fall twitching to the chamber floor, a testament to the unlucky demon that had been about to cross.

  Leykachak glared at him with seething hatred. “Why would you do that? As powerful as I am, more could be accomplished with my underlings’ aid.”

  “I don’t seek your aid,” explained Will, standing and moving to the next control point.

  “Then you should have fled rather than open the gate,” the demon informed him. “Now that I am here you cannot hope to stop me. This circle will not hold.”

  Will felt strangely calm. After the terrible slaughter above and the horror he had just committed, he couldn’t muster enough emotional energy to be afraid of the creature that was threatening him. He almost didn’t care if he died. Almost. Will formed the next control rune and linked it to the copper rune he had selected. Flames flared within the circle, identical in nature to the ones that covered Will’s body.

  The circle was now drawing power from the ley lines and converting it into the same vital turyn that was deadly to demon-kind. Leykachak screamed in rage as his face and skin began to bubble and boil. “You would punish me? I will tear out your heart! You cannot hope to succeed.” The demon lord began to press forward, pressing his hands against the invisible barrier that held him within the circle.

  Will felt the pressure build through his connection, but he refused to stop. This was the crucial moment. He stared boldly back at the demon lord, unwilling to give up. In his mind he was replaying Aislinn’s advice. “Theoretically you could destroy him there, but you won’t. Any demon lord brought by such a ritual will be too powerful. Eventually your strength will fail, and it will break free. You must hold it as long as possible. Every second the circle’s punishment lasts will greatly weaken the demon.”

  He had asked her what to do once the circle failed, and she had further counseled, “Run. If you weaken the demon enough, it won’t last long in our world before it must retreat. If you can escape its grasp long enough, you might survive. Though it isn’t likely.”

  Leykachak was screaming out a constant litany of curses in some language Will couldn’t understand. The floor shook as it pounded against the barrier, but he kept up his link with the circle. Though most of the power came from the ley lines, he still felt his strength fading. A quiet desperation crept over him as he stared at the demon lord, whose power didn’t seem to have diminished in the slightest.

  Keeping up his concentration, he called up the limnthal and summoned his vials of turyn. He had twenty left and the day before he had been confident they would be enough. Now he was having doubts. He drank one and felt his strength return.

  It didn’t last long. Leykachak’s efforts to free himself seemed to be growing in power rather than diminishing. Sweat ran down Will’s cheeks and neck, soaking into the padded gambeson beneath his armor. He drank another elixir and found himself struggling to maintain his concentration. The elixirs weren’t meant to be taken in such quick succession, nor had he expected to be using his power so quickly.

  He took the fourth barely a minute later and felt a wave of nausea rise from his gut. My own
turyn shouldn’t make me sick, he thought. Is it spirit sickness or is my will about to break? He didn’t have enough experience to be sure of the difference, but either way the end result would be bad. The one time his will had broken in the past, it had left him unable to practice magic for weeks.

  Today it would mean his death.

  Will’s hands began to shake and at last he realized the problem. Some of the turyn from the circle was leaking into him through the link. No matter how much pressure he put forth, it swirled and seeped into him, like freshwater from an estuary mixing with the sea at its outlet.

  He downed a fifth elixir, but it was no use. The problem wasn’t his turyn, it was his control—he simply couldn’t maintain the purity of a one-directional flow. Bile rose in the back of his throat and his stomach threatened to rebel once again. Not now!

  The floor buckled and cracks began to form, causing the copper runes to shift. Any more and the circle’s integrity would fail. Will was faced with a terrible decision. Should he continue to push on or stop while he could still run? He feared that if he waited too long his body would fail him.

  Leykachak leered at him, sensing his weakness. “Your fragile mortal body can’t last much longer, child. You’re failing. In a moment you’ll break and then I’ll take my time with you. Death is too good for you. I’ll rip your soul free and fashion a toy from it, an ornament of endless agony with which to amuse myself.”

  Will felt despair, and tears of frustration began to form in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to die, or whatever it was that was about to happen to him. He’d given everything he had, done everything that was required, no matter how much he had hated it. He’d done it all, not for himself, but for people who didn’t even know his name, much less that there was a terrible evil about to erupt in the midst of their city.