by D E Boske
“You have no idea,” he said seriously. “There is a matter of grave import that we must discuss, Aganor. The Dark Mage has gone to great lengths to deceive us. Do you recall Master Raschel Midrin? He died during the Test of Power,” Darian prompted. Aganor thought long and hard about it. He wasn’t sure because it was so long ago.
“Yes, I think so. That was a very long time ago, Darian. It’s been what, over three hundred years, hasn’t it?”
“Sounds about right,” Darian responded, much to Kyler’s surprise. “I had already passed the Test of Power and was raised from Master to Mage,” he looked to Kyler as he spoke.
“What about Raschel, Darian? What made you think of him now after all this time?” asked
Aganor, baffled.
“Because he’s not dead. He’s right here in Kiri A’ Nouell. The Dark Mage was using him to gather an army. And many… other… darker deeds,” the Mage finished quietly.
“Has he been brought up on charges? You did exact the correct Order punishment, didn’t you, Darian?” asked Aganor.
“Yes, didn’t you, Darian?” mocked Trétorna. He knew there was something the hated Mage didn’t want to admit.
“No, I did not. He is as much a victim as the rest of us. He was subverted by Dark Magic and made to do terrible things against his will,” admitted Darian.
“How do you know it was against his will?” bated Trétorna, who was fully aware that Raschel and Darian had been friends. “Maybe he enjoyed it, Darian. You cannot honestly believe he was really your friend, now can you? You do not have any friends, Mage whore.”
Kyler could not believe the tone in which Trétorna spoke those words. What was worse was their effect on the Mage. The elf doubted anyone else even noticed, but he did. He knew Darian better than anyone; they only thought they knew him. The Mages assumed much and knew too little. The pain was there and gone, making Kyler second guess what it was he thought he saw. Kyler had heard enough. He didn’t even know this Mage and he wanted to kill him.
“I am Darian’s friend, you waste of skin,” said Kyler.
Darian felt the demon begin to stir and tried to keep him in check. Then he thought it might be entertaining if Sigorna appeared amidst them all. Darian relaxed his grip on the Demon Stone and let the Falahari come through. The grey mist began to swirl around the young Mage and he welcomed it. The other Mages remained very quiet. They did not want to draw any unwanted attention.
The huge Falahari emerged from the grey smoke, tall and forbidding. “Is everything alright, Darian?” Sigorna asked the young Mage, as he eyed the others askance.
He stood behind Darian, putting his clawed hands on the back of the young Mage’s chair protectively. His heated gaze missed nothing. He stared into the eyes of each Mage present, looking for familiarity. His eyes came to rest on Trétorna.
“You!” the demon nearly screamed.
His voice was very nearly painful to listen to, but Darian had become used to it. Sigorna could see the visible shudders from the Mages and many elves that were in the room and grinned wickedly at their discomfort.
“Darian, please let me kill him! Just him. I hate him!” The demon turned his words to the Mage that had tortured him for so long. “The things you made me do were unspeakable, you fat, sloppy bastard! I would have it told right here before your betters. Let them judge you as you should have been judged so long ago.”
“You are a demon from Oblivion. No one cares what you have to say,” Trétorna said, a bit too quickly. Darian noticed the sweat begin to form on the upper lip of the fat, sloppy bastard. A
telltale sign that he was nervous and hiding something.
“I care,” said Darian.
“You would,” said Trétorna. “No one cares what you think either, Mage whore.”
Darian had had enough. He stood, rising to his full height. Thunderclouds formed in his eyes as he looked upon his nemesis. “I am to be the Shangmarrum, you will show me respect or I will cut out your filthy tongue!” said Darian in unbridled rage. The demon knew at once that Darian hated Trétorna as much as he did himself. He also knew that Darian probably could not kill him. Yet.
Aganor calmly watched the display, wanting the young Mage to handle the situation and knowing he did not need any help. They would all have to learn to listen to Darian Brade. It would be difficult for some, he knew, but it mattered not. It was the will of Delvishan and none with any brains would stand against the god.
“Falahari, what did Trétorna make you do?” asked Darian, phrasing his words carefully to protect Sigorna. “I want you to tell me, if not this whole council, so that he may be judged and the proper punishment exacted,” Darian said the last words with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He would be the one to exact the punishment, or maybe he would let Sigorna do it. Yes, that would be poetic justice.
“He would beat me with a barbed whip even though I had completed his sickening tasks.
Many times, he would keep me far longer than he should have. I would be weak from remaining on this plane. Sometimes, he would keep me for almost a week. No food, no water. Nothing. Just his disgusting face leering at me. Sometimes, he would command me to have sex with a girl he had brought to him. I didn’t mind that as much and neither did she once we got started. I don’t think he has the goods to deliver for them. Don’t think they like you, Mage. That’s why you hate Darian, isn’t it? Cuz you’re jealous of what he’s got. He doesn’t need to beg for sex, they beg him. In fact, all of you Mages in this room are jealous of Darian. Do not bother to try to deny it. You are jealous of his looks, his talent, and his strength and you fear what you cannot control. To the Black Hells with all of you!”
The Mages sat stunned into silence by the demon’s words. They turned abhorrent looks upon Trétorna. They all knew Trétorna was wicked, but even they could not believe he was capable of such things. The worst was yet to come.
“Should I tell them about your real sexual appetite?” At the demon’s words, Trétorna paled. “He likes to force women to have anal sex with him and if they refuse, he beats them. I witnessed him beating a girl ‘til he almost killed her. Then he forced himself on her while she lay
broken and bleeding.” Something about his words struck Darian. He turned to look at Sigorna and the demon’s eyes confirmed it.
“Yes, Darian, I was there when Trétorna beat Gayla. He damn near killed her. She refused his dark appetite and after he beat her, he had his way with her. I can still hear her cries of pain, begging him to stop. You Mages care for nothing! Oh, but it gets better, doesn’t it Trétorna?”
“I think we’ve all heard enough of your lies!” said Trétorna, trying to stop the demon from speaking. He knew what was coming next and he knew his life would be forfeit.
“Shut up and let the demon talk!” said Aganor, surprising himself. He’d meant to let Darian handle the proceedings, but caught up in the tale as he suspected they all were, he’d spoken without realizing it.
“I doubt any of you are aware of his perverse appetite. I seriously hope you do something about it because someone must. He has sex with some of the students, against their will, of course. He forces them into his room to perform and he tells them that if any of them say anything, he will kill them. He does this almost every night. He can’t get it up for a woman, but he sure as shit gets a stiffy for little boys and young men. Don’t you, little piggy?” said the demon, knowing he’d delivered a deathblow. That was something The Order did not condone under any circumstances. A Mage met death’s embrace if found having sex with another man. That was why The Order worked so hard to present a beautiful array of girls. Occasionally, a child was born who had different appetites, and The Order disposed of them once discovered.
“I would like to say that I am shocked, Trétorna, but I’m not. I fully expect this type of behavior from you. You sicken me,” said Darian.
“Darian, I know the punishment that you would exact and I must say that I am inclined to agree. However, we need him now.
We need as many Mages as possible to go up against the Dark Mage,” Aganor reasoned.
“I think we’d be making a mistake if we continue to let him live,” stated Darian matter of factly. “He is absolutely no use to us and given the information that has come to light, I move to eradicate him now.”
“Darian, I believe we all agree with your sound judgment, but I think the timing is off. I believe Aganor is correct when he says that we will need all the Mages we can collect,” said Declan Rothbane of the Dregian order. He was handsome, tall and lean with dark brown hair and green eyes.
Darian fixed him with his level gaze, sizing him up. Declan was a powerful Mage and from Darian’s own order. Darian knew Declan well enough to know that the Mage was not happy letting Trétorna escape his punishment. He could see it in Declan’s eyes. Darian nodded his agreement, for what could he do? He needed the Mages’ support.
The demon looked pleased with himself and the situation before him. He’d finally gotten
what he’d wanted, somewhat. He wanted to kill the disgusting pig faced Mage when they handed down his sentence.
“Falahari, I want you to exact his punishment. For now, he will be beaten and for this I will not take no for an answer,” said Darian, daring the Mages to object.
“That seems fair and right,” said Aganor, backing up his favorite Mage. The rest of the Mages fell in line, agreeing with their leaders and nodding their consent.
The demon leered wickedly at Trétorna as he conjured a barbed whip out of thin air. Trétorna tried to run, but the Gor Li’ Khan stopped him, holding him down. The Mages next to him tore off his robes, exposing his too white flesh. His howls of pain and suffering drove the demon to whip him all the harder. When the demon finished, Trétorna’s body was a torn mess. He was bloody and broken, just like he left the girls.
“You shall have no healing potions and no spells for healing. You will heal on your own,” commanded Darian, approaching the other Mage. He stripped Trétorna of his magic by blocking his use of it and relieved him of his possessions so that he would not be able to do anything when he was alone.
Kyler looked on in horror, he was not aware that Darian could so strip another of their magic. If the other Mages seemed shocked, they hid it well. Kyler could feel Darian’s strength and power and with the other Mages in the same room, he could tell with ease that Darian was more powerful than they. He noticed that whenever Darian came too close to them, they seemed to shrink away from him. Almost as if they were afraid of him. Or was it something else? He saw the Mage that spoke up siding with Aganor, both of which wore the same color robes. They were of the Dregian order as well.
Kyler watched them all very carefully. He would never leave his friend vulnerable again. He knew he’d failed Darian these past months, but never again.
“Back to the matter at hand,” said Darian. “The Dark Mage used his magic on Raschel Midrin to change him into a misshapen creature. He was the Dark Mage’s right hand. When we captured him, I broke the spell that concealed him using my staff. I delved deep inside his brain where he could not hide. He had no memory of the events, nor of the terrible things the Dark Mage made him do. I do not think it fair to punish him for things he was not in control of.”
“Darian, you will turn him over to me so that I may conduct my own examination of him.
Just to be sure that nothing was missed,” said Aganor. Darian knew that the Mages were aware of their friendship so he could hardly refuse. If he did, they would likely not trust him or stand behind him when it counted.
“Of course,” he nodded to Nymdal, who went at once to retrieve Raschel. More than one
Mage eyebrow rose at that. Good, let them wonder, thought Darian.
“Darian, can you tell us what it is you plan on doing next?” asked Declan.
“Declan and my fellow Mages, there is much that has happened that you have no knowledge of. The Dark Mage held me captive for weeks, torturing me with Dark Magic. He would have killed me, but he wants my staff. With me dead, he has no way of getting it. He let me go thinking I would lead him to it.”
“What? How is that possible? How could we not know?” asked Aganor.
“Because he uses the dungeons far below Piri-Tuma, guarded by mercenaries, because he cannot risk using Mages. I doubt that anyone even remembers they are there.”
“How were you able to free Raschel if he was bound with Dark Magic?” asked Declan.
“Because I am infected with it,” Darian admitted.
“How?” asked Declan, his blood turning cold.
“I think my body somehow absorbed the Dark Magic while I remained his captive.”
“How much time is left to you?” Declan asked the question they all needed an answer to. If they seemed afraid before, now they appeared downright terrified.
“I’m not sure. I need to go to the Haunted Lands,” he admitted.
“The Haunted Lands! Whatever for?” asked Declan and Aganor in unison.
“It is there that I will find what I seek.” Darian did not elaborate and it infuriated more than one Mage.
“Which is?” prompted Declan.
“The Morgannate,” said Darian quietly.
“No Darian, you cannot go after this book. The Order has fought long and hard to see that the use of Dark Magic was eradicated,” argued Declan.
“Yeah, it looks like they really succeeded, Declan,” Darian retorted sarcastically.
“How do you know the book is there?” asked Declan, dreading the answer.
“I do not have time for debates on the matter. I need to go after this book and I would like it if some of you come with me. I will not force you to, but if you wish to accompany me, it would be most welcome,” said Darian.
More than a few Mages nodded their consent and Darian held his surprise in check. Was it because they wanted to help or they wanted to see Darian fail? Maybe a little of both.
2
Nymdal returned with Raschel in tow, the shock on the Master’s face readily apparent. He looked at the gathered Mages, his eyes coming to rest on Darian. He wanted to know what was going on. He was confused, but Darian did not show favoritism.
“Ah Raschel, it has been too long,” said Aganor. “You will not mind if I take a look, would you?”
Raschel was trapped and he knew it. He could not refuse. The Mages wanted to see if Darian had been soft on him because of their friendship. If anything, Darian had been harder than necessary.
Aganor stood and motioned for Raschel to take his seat. He would need it before Aganor was through with him, he was sure. The pain sliced through his brain with exquisite precision, for though he’d been expecting it, it still caught him by surprise. Aganor was a master at ferreting out information and he’d taught Darian everything he knew. He dared not give Raschel the time to erect his defenses. Instead, he plowed deep, showing no mercy.
Raschel cried out in pain, and his body shook with the force of the intrusion. Darian kept a tight mask of unconcern on his face. He needed to appear hard and to the others at the table, he did. He almost had Kyler fooled, but Kyler knew him and the elf could see how Raschel’s agony affected the Mage.
Finally, Aganor was satisfied that there was no more to learn from Raschel. The Master sat in his seat, utterly drained from the experience. Not an elf in the council chamber believed that Raschel was guilty of anything anymore. They’d all had their suspicions before but not anymore.
Raschel’s throat was raw from screaming and a sheen of sweat covered him. He looked to Darian; whose face remained a mask of unconcern. More than ever, Darian needed to remain apart from Raschel. He could not risk the other Mages rising against him. If they did, it would get ugly very quick.
For the remainder of the day, they discussed the most important issues and how to deal with them. About an hour before sunset, they adjourned. Darian released Sigorna and watched as his form faded. It had been a long day for everyone. This was exactly why Darian detested
being
in control. The whole day was a waste. He hated being stuck in the council room all day discussing matters. He was a man of action. He liked adventure, traveling, and being able to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. This was going to be a serious cramp in his style.
“Let’s get something to eat,” offered Kyler.
“That sounds promising. Bring Nephraete and I’ll go get Kizziah,” said Darian.
“Where do you want to go?” asked Kyler.
“We haven’t been to the Black Mare in a long time. Let’s go there.”
“Meet in half an hour?” inquired the elf.
“Half an hour it is,” said the Mage.
Darian went back to his room, he needed to wash up and change his clothes. Twenty minutes later he stood at Kizziah’s door with a single, red rose.
“Oh Darian, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed in girlish delight. She kissed him possessively, but he didn’t mind. For now, he was hers. Nymdal grinned at the display, shaking his head at the Mage. One of the Gor Li’ Khan always accompanied the Mage wherever he went. Darian deepened the kiss, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, pulling her to him.
“We’re meeting Kyler and Nephraete at the Black Mare,” he told her.
“I was hoping we could stay in tonight,” she pouted and he knew what she wanted.
“We have all night, Kizzi,” he whispered as he kissed her again.
Kyler and Nephraete were kissing when they arrived. Kizziah put her hand on Darian’s leg under the table. The lavender shirt he wore set off his grey eyes nicely and she could not stop staring at him. Darian brushed her lips with his, but she wanted more and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
A shapely elf arrived to take their order, but they were not yet ready. Her eyes rested on the Mage admiringly. She wished it was she lip locked with the gorgeous Mage instead of Kizziah. She walked away, sighing heavily.
There were several Mages at another table, talking softly. Darian’s entrance never went unnoticed. Among them were Aganor and Declan, who admired the ease with which Darian could draw attention. The hunger in his date’s eyes was unmistakable and Darian handled her like a master. When the shapely elf returned for their order, they were ready this time.
