by D E Boske
“Hey! That’s no way to repay his kindness! What’s the matter with all of you? He didn’t have to heal our sick, but he did. Have you all forgotten? Is this any way to treat our savior?” asked an older man near the back.
“We probably wouldn’t even be sick if it wasn’t for him,” said a middle-aged woman.
“Ah nonsense, Brea! He ain’t the one what caused the sickness. ‘Twas on us for months afore he got here. Stop blaming the only one who’s been of any help!” Argued a pretty woman near the front.
Stilhan rushed up to Darian, “You’re gonna want to see this,” said the elf, his tone urgent.
Darian followed the elf, but unfortunately, so did the crowd. There were just too many of them and Kelindril didn’t want to kill them. The Mage saw what Stilhan was pointing at and it made Darian’s blood run cold.
In the back of the town, running the full length of the wall, was a cemetery. The Mage could see a group of disturbed graves. Darian inspected each one and found the same evidence in all of them.
Claw marks on the inside of the wooden caskets, smudges of blood, dirt, and flesh, clung to the wood. Dark reminders of a frightening escape, thought the Mage. The lids were smashed outward and Darian knew the dead were commanded to give up peace and tranquility for a grisly return to this world. Darian could smell the telltale herbs that the Dark Mage would have used to aid in the Raising Ritual; henbane, hemlock, and mandrake to name a few.
Necromancy was one practice among many that the Dark Mages of old had practiced. Darian didn’t think the Dark Mage was here because if he was, he would have tried to kill Darian already, which meant he’d been building his Dark Army. One of their companions must be working with the Dark Mage. The young Mage looked them all over, closely scrutinizing each one. He reached out with his blended magic to see if it would tell him anything. Hopefully, the Dark Magic would react if it sensed its presence in another.
“Where’s Thimkur?” asked Darian.
“I… I haven’t seen him. Darian, you don’t think…” Raschel began.
“I don’t know. I must find him. Where is he staying?” replied the Mage.
“A few doors down from you. We took over a vacant house after we cleaned and sterilized it,” said Raschel, looking fearful.
Darian made his way back to the house where the Mages were staying, it wasn’t hard, as the trail of magic was strong. No Dark Magic though. If only it were that easy, he thought bitterly. He made it to the door and heard soft chanting from within. He waited, listening intently for any words he could make out or for any traces of Dark Magic. Its use could be felt easily, so he had no idea how the Mage concealed it earlier. Of course, Darian was in the middle of healing too.
Raschel stayed out of Darian’s way, but close enough to help if needed. Darian reached out using his magic, calling on his Dark side, but did not feel any Dark Residue. He reached out to the Weave, flooding it with his magic, trying to get any information he could. He took a chance and cast an invisibility spell and teleported inside.
Kelindril paled when he saw what Darian was about to do, but he couldn’t stop him in time. The Mage was gone before Kelindril reached the spot where he stood only moments before. How could the Mage be so careless? It wasn’t just about him anymore, now he had a son, and a consort. The elf was furious with the Mage, but what could he do? He tried to follow the Mage in, but quickly realized that Darian had cast a spell to keep everyone else out. He wanted to handle this alone.
Darian held his breath as he finished the spell, it wouldn’t do to die so stupidly. He made a calculated decision and went with it. He’d seen the layout of most of the homes while he healed the occupants and they all had an open layout by the door. Darian sealed the house so that no one else could enter. He saw Thimkur on his knees, chanting. The Mage’s eyes were closed and he was deep in concentration. It seemed he had not felt Darian’s spectacular entrance.
The young Mage silently drew a dagger from his belt and put it to the older Mage’s throat. It never shook his concentration, he remained kneeling, his chanting growing in crescendo, even as he felt Darian’s dagger pressing against his throat. When the older Mage’s chant was complete, he held his arms out in submission and looked up at Darian.
“Darian, there is a Dark Mage among us,” he began, speaking softly. “They are practicing necromancy and they are very clever, for the Dark Magic remains concealed.”
“How do I know that it isn’t you, Thimkur?” asked Darian, and Thimkur was surprised the young Mage already knew about the Dark Mage, though he didn’t know why he should be. Darian was sharp and intelligent, of course he would know this already.
“I guess you don’t, Darian. You can search me, but obviously, the Dark Mage was able to stay hidden before. I know you don’t trust any of us and I don’t blame you. But I swear, you can trust me. I am loyal to you. I was trying to discern the traitor. I don’t know how he is managing to do so, but he is remaining hidden from us. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Darian looked long and hard at Thimkur and without warning, broke through his protection spells and dove right into his mind. The assault was abrupt, violent and took Thimkur completely by surprise.
Darian was incredibly strong and he was not gentle with Thimkur. He plowed through the older Mage’s mind, searching for anything that stood out. Thimkur bent backward, arms out to his sides and his mouth was open in a silent scream.
Darian scoured through Thimkur’s memories, the older Mage at Darian’s mercy. He
could hide nothing from him, nor did he try. Darian was witness to Thimkur’s many punishments at The Order’s behest. He pushed them aside, as this was not what he was looking for. He saw Thimkur’s rewards as well, but these too, Darian brushed aside. He went after those dark corners where memories hid. Memories that were not meant to see the light of day.
Darian pulled more power from the Weave and they both gasped at the sensation of the powerful tug it created. He drew the Staff of Power and commanded it to full height and Thimkur paled, but did not try to stop him. Thimkur’s eyes widened when he felt Darian call on the Dark Magic that was now buried within him. He saw the enraptured gleam in Darian’s silvery grey eyes and had to admit, he was fully aroused as well. Magic was a powerful aphrodisiac.
The young Mage went after the darkened recesses of Thimkur’s private thoughts and saw… A beautiful woman with long, dark tresses, twirling in the sunlight. Thimkur wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and kissed her tenderly as they lay in bed together. He heard their whispered devotions of love and knew why Thimkur had worked so hard to keep it secret. Darian saw Thimkur weeping at the loss of the dark-haired woman. He flitted from memory to memory, the jumbled onslaught a bit jarring to his sensibilities. But he’d lived through worse.
The halls of Piri-Tuma came into view and Darian realized it must be around the time he was deemed worthy enough to be raised to Journeyman. Whispered conversations became clear and Thimkur seemed pleased that the young Mage had found them.
“Do you think he is the one we’ve been waiting for?” asked Thimkur.
“I do,” said Alvos. “Delvishan warned us to be diligent in protecting him, many will hunt him and try to kill him. If The Order is to survive, Thimkur, so too must Darian Brade.”
“I will do whatever is necessary to ensure his safety,” agreed Thimkur.
“He is young! Too young, Alvos. He’s only a Journeyman. What can he possibly do to help us?” asked Greyndal, a high-ranking Dregian order Mage.
“Right now? Nothing. We must wait and bide our time, for when the day comes, he will be the one to restore The Order to its former glory. He has power, Greyndal. Do not tell me you have not felt it,” responded Alvos.
“Aye, he has power, natural skill, and charisma aplenty. I hear he’s making a name for himself with the whores, too. But who knows how long we’ll have to wait afore he is raised to the rank of Mage?” said Greyndal.”
“That is for Delvishan to dec
ide. Right now, we must make a pact that we will protect Darian no matter what it takes,” advised Alvos. The young Mage saw Thimkur, Greyndal, Declan,
Betremen, Aganor, Graynor, Trétorna, and Modill.
“Or he may end up like Falcose Dordinon,” warned Alvos in hushed tones.
“What do you really believe happened to Falcose?” asked Thimkur.
“I dare not say, but he would not have abandoned his duties. He was dedicated to The Order and to Delvishan and for that…” Alvos let the implications hang there between them because he could not speak the words they all feared were true.
Darian let go of the connection and staggered backward, pieces to the puzzle sliding into place. His brain began to filter and sift through what he already knew for certain regarding the Dark Mage and Falcose Dordinon’s abrupt departure.
“Thimkur,” Darian’s voice was raw with need. The need for answers that he was sure the older Mage had.
“Yes?”
“Is all of that true? All of you have been looking out for me my whole life?”
“Yes, Darian, we have. We were tasked with your protection and acted as your silent benefactors.”
“So, none of my accomplishments were my own?” Darian questioned, eyes blazing.
“Everything you’ve accomplished were your own personal achievements, Darian. The only things that we helped you with were escaping punishments, granting rewards, and gold now and then.” He saw the young Mage’s eyes lighten once more and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“You have true power, Darian, and I know you know that. We follow you because of that. You are The Order’s future.”
“I don’t know about that, Thimkur,” said the young Mage tiredly. “What the hell was Trétorna doing there? He and I never saw eye to eye.”
“That’s a gross understatement,” said Thimkur, cracking a grin. “What was behind your hatred of him?”
“You sure you wanna know that story?” asked Darian, returning the older Mage’s smile.
“Duh. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” replied Thimkur, chuckling at the young Mage’s feigned look of disbelief.
“I was newly raised to Journeyman, just beginning to experience a bit of freedom within the confines of Piri-Tuma’s walls. I had begun to make a name for myself with the girls and was experiencing things no other had at my young age.” Darian had a wistful look in his eyes as he recalled the memory.
“I guess it started out as jealousy. He was a Mage and I was a Journeyman, but already, my rank was higher than expected and I was learning at an alarming rate. I never liked Trétorna, Thimkur. I never trusted him and it stemmed from him waking me one night while I lay deep in Ru Nay’ Sha. I’d just had sex with a young girl who was frightened of me at first. Until she saw I
wasn’t like the others. I talked to her and put her at ease and when we made love, she said it was
the best she’d ever had.
“I felt him shaking me gently, but I was too exhausted to rouse myself. I didn’t realize it was Trétorna at the time. I thought it was the girl coming back for more. I opened my eyes and he stood over me, his dick in my face. At first, I thought it was some sort of joke, but he was too insistent. He kept trying to rip the blankets off the bed, so I attacked with my magic.”
Thimkur looked horrified, “Didn’t the others hear you? Why didn’t they stop him?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question, Thimkur. Not a one of them lifted a finger to assist. I didn’t need their help anyway. I was far beyond most of their pathetic skills by then, so they were of no use to me,” the young Mage admitted.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Of course, I tried to tell Aganor, but they wouldn’t let me in to see him. I tried to tell a few of my teachers, and they just thought I was making shit up. Over the next couple of weeks, Trétorna visited me every night and tried relentlessly to get me in his bed. He tried to force himself on me, holding me down with his magic, but he had no idea how strong I was already. I let myself appear afraid and powerless. I let him believe he would have his way with me. I waited until he was naked and struck without remorse. I stabbed him viciously, nearly severing his balls and almost chopped his dick off. He was screaming like a madman, bleeding everywhere and I told him if he ever laid a hand on me again or even looked at me funny, I’d kill him. And he knew I meant it, Thimkur.”
“That goes against everything The Order stands for! Why would he do that when he swore to protect you?”
“I have no idea, but that’s why we hated each other. I was the only one to stand up to him and I guess he didn’t like it.”
“Why were you the only one to stand up to him, I wonder?”
“Maybe that’s when he started hitting the apprentices and novices. They are far weaker and more in a position to do whatever they are told for fear of punishment. As a Journeyman, I knew my rights and what could and could not be demanded of me.”
“I think that’s one reason why they all hated you. Jealousy is a powerful motivator.”
“Yeah, I know all about that,” said Darian softly.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, though I cannot guarantee an answer,” responded the young Mage.
“What’s the story behind all the women?” asked Thimkur curiously. He knew he was not the only Mage to wonder how a young boy could become so wanted and sought after by all the women in Piri-Tuma.
“Ah,” said Darian, seemingly pleased that the older Mage had asked a question that he could answer.
“The girls on the novice’s floor took a liking to me and tutored me in the erotic arts. It began with one girl, who came to me after she was finished with her charge. I cast a spell to freeze the room so she wouldn’t get into trouble. She began to teach me how to kiss and how a woman wanted to be touched and fondled. Soon after, she began the slow process of teaching me how to make love to a woman and what their deepest desires are. She taught me how to find the pleasure center that exists in every woman and how to exploit it for our pleasure. Those are some of my fondest memories, Thimkur.”
“Why did she choose you?” asked Thimkur, looking as if he wanted to stab the younger Mage to death.
“She said she could tell I was different, that I would be more than willing to learn the art of seduction. And she couldn’t have been more correct. I threw myself into it like it was another class. I absorbed everything she told me and I was more than eager to try new things. After about a year, she said I was advancing nicely and brought in another girl.”
“I hate you with every fiber of my being,” said Thimkur, with a genuine grin on his face and Darian laughed.
“They taught me how to last but actually, the biggest help was just lots of sex. The more I had, the longer I was able to hold out, thanks to the conditioning. They would make me come and get me hard again to see how many times I could do it. My sex drive grew under their tutelage and after about a year and a half, they were no longer teaching me.”
“What happened? Did you get caught?” asked Thimkur.
“No,” said Darian, smiling wickedly. “I became the teacher and when we made love, I showed them how much I appreciated them and I even showed them a few things. After a while, I no longer needed teaching, but they continued to come to me and I accepted their gifts.”
“You bastard,” said Thimkur, with feigned disgust. “Why couldn’t that have happened to me? How long did they continue to come to you?”
“For years. Even after they were pulled off the floor because they were deemed too old for a Mage’s attention.”
“I never pegged you for the type to provide pity sex, Darian,” said Thimkur seriously.
“I didn’t consider it to be pity sex. They were still lush and beautiful, wet and willing. I continued to fill their needs until they grew too old for me. I owed them so much, Thimkur. I don’t expect you to understand what they did for me, but they changed my life. I still visited
them and healed them when they were sick until I got word that they passed away within days of each other.” Darian’s eyes were misty with unshed tears and the sight deeply touched Thimkur.
“That’s quite a story, Darian. What a life you’ve lived.”
“Yeah. It’s about to be cut violently short.”
“No, it won’t. We’re here to protect you…” Thimkur trailed off as grey smoke rolled across the floor, signaling the demon’s pending arrival.
“Darian! Why the hell have you been blocking me?” boomed Sigorna.
“We’re in a small village that will not understand your presence, demon. What have you seen? Anything interesting?”
“Oh, I’ve seen plenty. A child, seriously Darian? Have you lost your mind? This journey is no place for a child. Are you pussy whipped now? You just let the she elf run over the top of you and make all the rules? I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Sigorna finished, voice breaking, as he feigned emotional injury. He put his huge hands over his face and opened his fingers to peek through to see if they were looking.
Darian chuckled and Thimkur followed suit. Thimkur looked a bit uncomfortable in the Falahari’s presence, though he hid it well. The older Mage witnessed how comfortable Darian was with the demon. They were almost like buddies. Thimkur found this to be disconcerting. It was obvious that they had history. What that history was though, was anybody’s guess. Thimkur knew Darian would never admit a thing. He wondered how long they’d known each other. They were whispering and talking softly and Thimkur had to question whether or not the young Mage was in his right mind. You didn’t get that chummy with an Oblivion demon. Ever.
Sigorna clapped Darian on the back, chuckling at something the young Mage had said. The demon eyed the older Mage askance, but paid him no mind. He guarded his words and drew Darian away from Thimkur.
“Are you sure of this one’s fealty?” Sigorna asked when they were as alone as you could get in such small, cramped quarters.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore, demon. There is a Dark Mage among us who is responsible for raising the dead.”
