My Name is Ruin

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Such entities must be concentrated to the east, in the forest where the festival is to be held,” ventured Pavel.

  “Maybe,” answered the bard. “But only a fool would leave his place of power unguarded.”

  “True. The lack of such beings could be an indication we’re searching in the wrong place. I don’t want to say it, but it looks as if we’ve got no option but use your spell,” said Pavel resignedly.

  “If you wish. Prepare yourself for the consequences then,” warned the demon.

  Sheqer stepped forward, faced the mountain, and stood still. Abruptly, the Azat felt a ripple of energy erupting from the bard that flowed toward the peaks. Being at the rear of the demon, Pavel couldn’t sense the entirety of the conjuration, but it gave off a malignant and repulsive aura. One that seeped into bones and froze marrow. It sucked away warmth and heat, and left a dark, deep, and frightening emptiness in the mind. The demon turned to Pavel after casting the terrifying magical spell.

  “North. Around fifteen to twenty miles away. Faint, but I could sense it. A black corruption. More than demonic. It has the taint of magic even my kind loathed to wake.”

  ***

  Fifteen to twenty miles across forested terrain, along the base of a mountain range with its gullies and small rocky hills, appeared to be a struggle of fifty miles. The pair had barely traveled five miles when Pavel gave up and insisted on rest. A tense, watchful trek on the rugged land, with senses attuned to the danger of an ambush, exhausted him.

  The Azat sat down under the shade of a large tree. The ground in this part of the forest was relatively flat, but it dropped into a cliff several feet ahead. The site overlooked the road, now a sliver in the distance. Pavel selected the location because the opening in the forest thicket provided a cooling breeze.

  “Let me rest,” he told the bard wearily. “I’m bushed.”

  Sheqer laughed and told the Azat he was lucky they hadn’t encountered any predators. Nighttime would be different though, that was when the usual and unnatural hunters came out, and it was but a few hours away.

  “Go ahead and scout for the entrance,” said Pavel. “While you’re at it, find an elevated cave or crevice. We, I mean, I, won’t be safe spending the night in a tree. We’re too deep in the wilds. Come back before the sun sets.”

  Sheqer turned into a dark mist and flowed through the trees. The man hoped the demon would find the entrance soon. But even if the opening was found, they could only enter it tomorrow – their last day and final chance to stop what he suspected was going to happen. Pavel didn’t think the passage into whatever temple or shrine awaited them would be easy. He’d need all his strength.

  The demon had been gone for a while when he felt the arrival of strangers. They seemed human, but surprisingly, he couldn’t determine their intent toward him. Pavel surreptitiously loosened the clasps of the sword and the mace, shifting his position to afford more cover. He couldn’t give away the fact that he knew they were around. Considering the absence of any indication of threat and the possibility that the situation might go sideways, not giving away any sign that he knew they were around seemed like the best option.

  However, the newcomers didn’t make any effort to hide. They went straight to his position and finally appeared to his right. Pavel stood up and noticed the four were wearing light leather armor, covered with a dark green vest marked with a gray griffin. The idea of immediately attacking ran through his mind. But since they didn’t initiate any aggressive action, the Azat believed they still didn’t know he had killed their lord.

  “Hail and a good day, stranger,” said one who stepped forward. They were armed with short swords and bows. Quivers full of arrows were at their backs. Pavel held up a hand and returned the greeting. The men appeared to be forest rangers of Farel, if he was to go with their outfits.

  “What brings an armed man to the woods of Muraybet? Not poaching, I hope?” said the leader, still walking closer. The others were unobtrusively spreading along the treeline.

  It surprised the Azat. If they were rangers, their forest skills were abysmal. It seemed they only spotted Pavel when they were near enough to be detected. He assumed they proceeded as if encountering him was happenstance, since they were not sure if they had been discovered. Yet, it could be because the wind was blowing in a different direction, but that applied to beasts, not men. It was a strange encounter, and that in itself, put him on guard.

  “And you are?” he asked, keeping close to the tree.

  “Forest rangers of the Kingdom,” answered the man.

  Pavel wasn’t sure if Farel indeed had forest rangers. He had to take the fellow’s words at face value, but the movements of the entire group didn’t reassure him. Not to mention the fellow didn’t offer his name or ask for the Azat’s. The actions of the men made him feel as if he was being cornered. Hunted.

  He thought of a magical spell, taught by Encratas, which was used to dispel minor illusions. More powerful ones were not covered by the brief education he got from the battlemage. But the casting of the spell would immediately change the prevailing atmosphere from one of uncertainty into a violent skirmish if the visitors weren’t really men. A four-to-one battle with creatures yet unknown. If they were human, then it would just be an issue of explaining his presence.

  “Really? I didn’t know Farel had forest guardians?” he feigned. “Until we sort that out, I’d be much obliged if you’d stop where you are for a while.”

  The man halted, but not his companions. Pavel’s brain screamed at him to cast the spell. Going with his gut instinct, he released the minor conjuration. The energy flowed outward and washed over the strangers. Nothing outwardly changed, but for a moment, the Azat saw a transformation in the features before him. The faces fleetingly morphed from that of men to a canine form. His mind knew the shape.

  A burst of chaos energy lanced through the breast of the farthest ranger, followed by a sudden, running leap by Pavel, mace in hand. The leading creature drew his sword and temporarily blocked the downward path of the Azat’s weapon. But it wasn’t enough to stop the bludgeon from bashing his head, deforming it from the considerable blow. As he landed on top of the corpse, a repulsing conjuration threw the remaining rangers to the trees. Strangely, the man felt unnaturally strong and quick after using the energy within him. Lifted by adrenaline, his senses were extremely heightened. Everything around him seemed vibrant with color and, more significantly, slow.

  He rushed to the nearest fallen figure, but the creature was dead, its head smashed against a massive tree trunk. A face with predominantly canine features, complete with incisors, greeted him. Pavel turned and saw the survivor trying to crawl away, howling as its hands tore at the ground in its futile efforts to get back to the cover of the trees. Another burst of energy exploded on its back, bursting the torso.

  Damned cannibals, thought the Azat as he stood in the small clearing, his senses attempting to pick out any unusual movement or sounds around him. Nothing came to his attention.

  Sheqer came back just as Pavel finished covering the row of dead bodies with brambles and whatever he could scrounge from the surrounding foliage. The bard glanced at the remains and then at the man.

  “Not human, that I could sense. But the fading light and your covering make it difficult to see what they were,” said Sheqer. “Yet, if disposal was your concern, you could have just dropped them off the cliff.”

  “Dog-men, or padnakjunne. Don’t ask how I know. I just know, alright?” snapped Pavel. “They’re not local, that’s another fact I am sure of, and I don’t want to just drop them off the cliff. Too messy and liable to be discovered.”

  “Fascinating. We don’t have those back in my world. Hyena-men, yes. But humanoid forms with canine heads? That’s a travesty,” replied the bard.

  “They like man-flesh and prey in packs, with some innate ability to suppress their aura as predators. What surprised me, aside from their presence in Farel, was that they were well-equipped an
d properly outfitted as forest rangers of this Kingdom,” remarked the man.

  “It merely means our quarry has the material means and is gifted with a vast store of magical knowledge. I also doubt if this incident is isolated. It takes a vast network of spies and dark mages, not to mention access to ancient lore, to spawn the creatures we have so far encountered in this forsaken part of the Kingdom. Why here, of all places, would be the intriguing question,” replied the demon.

  “The Council?” suggested the Azat immediately.

  “Could be. But the lands of men are full of black cults and worshippers of the darkest corners of the various Hells. It could be any of those. If it’s the Council, then they’re not too obvious in their involvement. I would have expected a bevy of mages, drakes, and other more attention-grabbing creatures. For now, it has been ugly capcauns, werewolves, and these…dog-men. There’s a deep darkness involved here, and I am sure it’s not merely demonic,” replied Sheqer.

  “Your point?” asked Pavel, wondering at what the demon meant. They both already knew that something more than a mere dark cabal was involved.

  “I am still waiting for blood-suckers, ghouls, and such pets to make an appearance,” grinned the bard.

  ***

  “Please tell me you have good news,” the man asked the demon.

  The pair was safely hidden in a small cave located under a crag on the upper levels of the mountain. A semblance of a trail led to it, indicating it had been used as a shelter, probably by hunters. It was but a depression of some depth and led nowhere. At the rear of the small hollow was a wall of basalt.

  Sheqer had laid down a few warning wards and a sound-dampening spell along the mouth of the shelter. But a fire was out of the question. Even if they covered the entrance with branches and leaves, there was no assurance that some gleam wouldn’t be noticed from a distance. The shelter was high enough to be seen from several miles around.

  Pavel had to settle for heat emanated by Sheqer. He knew it was demonic in origin, but it was preferable to freezing his jewels off. It was freezing up on the mountain, and the wind made it worse.

  In response to Pavel’s query, the demon mentioned that he had found a large opening in the mountainside, hidden in a ravine about two miles away. If it wasn’t for the telltale stench of corruption, Sheqer doubted if he would have found it. Surprisingly, it looked unguarded. A characteristic that normally would have let the bard discard it as an ordinary cave.

  “Dark creatures in the forest?” followed up the Azat.

  “You’d be surprised. Almost none. All I could sense was a pack of werewolves in the woods and not in the vicinity of the cave. Actually, they were deeper in the forest,” replied the bard. “I begin to suspect the absence of a multitude of man-eating or soul-eating entities in its vicinity was intentional.”

  “There could be more of the dog-beasts. Illusion and innate ability to avoid detection would show them to be humans,” remarked Pavel.

  “True. But what approach do you want to adopt? The sneaky one or cut-to-pieces-everyone alternative?” asked Sheqer.

  “You don’t have to adopt that attitude with me. I am your Master, and don’t forget that trifling matter. But something in me wants to go on a rampage against these creatures, and I can’t determine what gave rise to it. But I know it would feel extremely good to go on a hunt instead,” mused Pavel.

  “The sneaky approach then. We’ll be in this forest for years if we’re going to follow your bloody instincts. Do you even know how big the Muraybet wilderness is?”

  “I know. I have the map. Don’t worry. Just voicing out what I feel,” replied the man.

  “Somewhere deep inside you is a madman who loves wholesale death and destruction,” answered the demon, “and somehow, I believe that entity is far more destructive than any monster. Or demon. Most of my kind prefer our work to be on a personalized level.”

  “Don’t give me that,” said “Pavel. “Sometimes, I believe I have a distinct lack of aggressiveness. Maybe I have to work on strengthening my initiative.”

  Sheqer merely stared at the brooding Azat.

  ***

  It was nearly midday when the pair arrived at the entrance. The opening started as a narrow one, barely enough for two to walk in abreast. But after a few yards, the path turned to the left and it became broader and the ceiling noticeably higher. Gone was the natural, rocky floor, and in its place was a smooth, though weathered, stone surface.

  Pavel glanced at the demon; an eyebrow raised. Sheqer merely gave him a smug grin. The man sighed. The bard misunderstood the expression.

  “Yes, I know you got the entrance right. Congratulations. But what I meant was, are there any traps or similar devices, along the way?” queried the Azat.

  The demon shook his head, but then warned that the aura they were following was stronger now, and its power was bound to interfere with Sheqer’s abilities.

  “We’re closer. Of course, it’s stronger. As long as you could see what’s in front of us for several feet, then we could avoid surprises,” commented Pavel as he brought out a torch.

  The bard nodded and the pair continued on their way. The path went downward as it twisted and turned, and Pavel knew they were moving deeper into the mountain. The route was suddenly lit by a bizarre reddish illumination. The man stopped. Something had changed. The corridor looked a lot better now, with small, tapered, decorative columns stationed at regular intervals. The sides of the passageway became smoother. Gone was the rough, rocky surface.

  Pavel brought the torch closer to the wall and saw that black marble had replaced the stone walls. The ornamental pillars were also of the same material. He nudged the bard and pointed to the wall. Sheqer inspected it and merely nodded. The two had avoided talking as the reverberations of their voices would surely echo down the path, alerting the denizens of the complex to their presence.

  The truth was the man was getting uneasy. The mace was in his hand, imbued with the dark energy he could manifest. But nothing had attempted to attack them. No dangerous spells had been triggered. No bony, clawed hands came out of the walls. It was becoming too easy and convenient for Pavel.

  Finally, they reached a chamber. It was also made of black marble with one difference. Etchings now appeared on the walls. Pavel glanced back at the route they’d followed. The entire corridor led to the empty chamber. No door appeared within the space.

  Sheqer moved to the wall markings and inspected them, careful not to touch anything. The man watched the demon as he made his way through the inscriptions. Finally, he walked to the bard’s side.

  “Well, what is it? It’s a dead end,” whispered Pavel.

  As soon as he finished speaking, all the engravings in the space lit up with crimson light and a thick column soundlessly dropped down the entrance to the chamber, blocking the only way out of the area. The two were trapped.

  At the sight of the bright markings, Sheqer quickly examined the rest and then turned to Pavel.

  “It’s a trap,” said the bard.

  “Of course, it’s a trap. Even Bak could see that,” exclaimed the exasperated Pavel.

  “I mean, it’s a different kind of trap. See those sigils? I never thought I’d see them in this world. Those are magical symbols from my reality,” replied Sheqer, incredulity in his tone.

  “By Fate! Focus!” blurted out the exasperated Azat. “We could ponder about that later, but what exactly is this chamber?”

  “I believe it’s a holding area. I could sense another corridor to our left. It’s all mountains on the other walls. We need the proper incantation to open the way,” said the demon.

  “I knew it. Our entry was too easy. Any clue as to what needs to be done?”

  The bard examined the markings once more. Then he declared either the right phrases or incantation must be stated, or the proper energy be coursed to the sigils.

  “Couldn’t we just blast us an opening?” asked the man, eyeing the way where the continuation of the corri
dor was located.

  “Around fifteen feet of rock, Master. Simply not possible. The entire room could collapse on us. More importantly, I am not sure what the effect of such energy would be on the other arcane symbols on the walls. From what I could understand, a specific kind of power is needed, and it definitely is not mine. Or yours,” advised the demon.

  “Then turn into mist and go to the other side of the blockage. There might be some lever or mechanism which would allow you to open the corridor from that side,” suggested Pavel.

  “I can’t travel through solid rock, and these magical signs also prevent the egress of any spirit or demon. I am trapped here, same as you,” commented the demon.

  Suddenly, the ceiling lit up, and the duo could see that a nine-pointed star design within a circle, filled with more markings, was engraved on the marble slab above them. The nonagram started pulsating.

  “What does that mean?” asked Pavel quickly, his irritation at being trapped now turning to anger.

  “Something not good. There appeared to be a time limitation for the recitation of the required incantation or the casting of the needed energy. I do recognize the spell. It’s a potent one and will turn us into mindless minions of whoever runs this place,” said the alarmed Sheqer, fear now showing in his face. “Not exactly what I envisioned my future to be.”

  “Then do something! Demonic or not, I don’t care!” shouted the furious Azat.

  “Helpless. Those runes and written incantations which should not be on this world prevent me from using any of my powers,” murmured the demon with obvious disgust. Sheqer appeared to share the man’s distaste for admitting failure.

  “By Fate’s tits! Do I have to do everything?” bellowed Pavel, anger now evident in his countenance. It was rage directed at their circumstances, but the demon’s helplessness aggravated the man’s mounting fury.