A Wizard's Tears Page 12

  All these images, and more, flowed through Lorkayn's mind. The blue nimbus covered his whole being, as it covered Vergail, and the contact made his skin smoke, as if it burned him. His face contorted in rage and pain, as images he did not want to see poured into him. Emotions of regret, guilt, compassion, gratitude, unity, affection and others alien to him hit home, and he could feel these emotions as well as see them in memories. Lorkayn yelled out in anguish. He had never experienced such feelings, they were powerful, and he despised them. His normally cold and dark heart had been opened to the wide range of good-natured emotions, and the contact hurt him physically.

  Vergail smiled, praising Untaba for showing the stranger the way of survival. She knew she could make a difference. Maybe, in time, she could teach the stranger more, convert him to Untaba's just and noble cause. With the power of the god inside her, anything was possible.

  Lorkayn writhed, his face in his hands as he sought to fight the emotions hurtling into him. They were poisoned knives cutting into his skin, and he hurt badly. He would not let these emotions destroy him, destroy his mind. Was this what his gods had wanted to show him? Take him to another world, to another god, and change his mind? He would not. He must not! There would be no redemption for him today.

  Calling on powers deep inside him, emotions that he had bled and endured for generations, his black heart pumped blood and energy through him. All his hatred for life, his dominance, his memories of killing, the adrenalin he experienced in combat, all of this he fused into a barrier, and pushed this barrier outward, attacking the blue nimbus of Untaba.

  Vergail's eyes grew wide as she saw her blue nimbus flicker in conflict. The shock wave came back, through the nimbus, to her. She could feel the anger, the malice and the venom hit her, and she recoiled from these dark feelings. "Untaba, help me!" she moaned to herself, as her legs buckled and she fell to the ground on her knees.

  The Slardinian, who could do nothing but watch, hissed in eager anticipation. His master would win this battle of wills. He could sense it, and seeing the priestess crumble to the ground was enough to whip him into a frenzied, lustful dance.

  Wave after wave of dark thoughts came to Vergail's mind, and she could not hear Untaba's normal voice of power. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of blackness. All she could hear were voices, hundreds and hundreds of voices, screaming and snarling in fear and anger: the victims of Lorkayn, people he had slain. There were so many! So many…

  With a bestial cry, Lorkayn stood tall, and surged all his power around him. The blue nimbus shattered, and Vergail was sent reeling backwards, landing on the ground with a thud. She had been beaten. Untaba had been beaten. Gasping, she struggled to her feet, staring at the stranger. He rivalled the power of her god! It was incredible. Words and prayers could no longer form on her lips. She simply stood, awaiting her fate. In her moment of need, Untaba's guidance had failed her. She stood, for the first time in her life, very much alone. Alone, and afraid.

  His eyes suffocated her as he stared at her. Large, black eyes bored into her skull, peeling away any resistance and coverage of flesh: revealing her soul to him. She let out a small breath, but the moisture in her lips dried up instantly. Her throat was dry, a barren desert. Sweat lined her skin under his scrutiny, as if his eyes were as the sun, heating her body.

  She trembled, in fear and excitement of what she knew was to come. Resistance was just a word, a long forgotten action. She could not resist, of that she knew. Thoughts came to her, unbidden, lustful thoughts, seeming to ooze right from those impenetrable black eyes, sorcery perhaps, but it no longer mattered. She yearned for the sorcerer to approach and touch her. All thought, all prayer to Untaba was gone.

  He stepped forward to embrace her. He put his hands on her shoulders. His touch sent waves of burning fire through her veins. Her breathing grew shallow. Her pupils dilated. Her lips parted, and a small gasp issued from them. His touch was incredible, like thousands of fingers running down her body, caressing her, tickling her. Her legs seemed to melt, until she could no longer feel herself standing, and she swooned into his naked body.

  His hands were stroking her neck, gentle, but firm, and the sensation aroused her whole body. Her back arched in sudden abandonment, and she hugged him fiercely. Never had she been touched, been manipulated in such a way!

  In a sudden movement, he had grabbed her long hair and pulled it backwards sharply. She gasped at the initial pain, but then he leant forward and kissed her exposed neck. At his kiss, all thought of pain had gone, replaced with a yearning, deep inside, and a wetness below. She closed her eyes, taking in the sensation of that kiss, and revelling in its power.

  He kept kissing her neck, teasing and toying with her, while one hand pulled on her hair, making her whimper. His other hand inched downwards, and found her left breast. He squeezed it, and now she was moaning, not in pain, but in burning need.

  Her legs parted involuntary, allowing his body access. He did not seem to notice. He stroked her chest, and nibbled on her neck for a long while. She was desperate for him to take her, there and then, but he would not. He teased her for what seemed an eternity, doing exactly what he wanted, not taking the bait she had clearly offered.

  In a fluid motion, his hands ripped open her robe, exposing her heaving breasts to the crisp air. Her back was still arched, her head back, gasping. She was transfixed, letting him do what he wanted. Her nipples were hard and erect as he buried his face between her flesh there, his tongue weaving to and fro in a spiritual dance of passion.

  She hugged him close, so tightly, fearing the sensations would leave her all too soon. Her nerves aflame, her mind gave in to the ecstasy swallowing her up. Each caress, each lick, each nibble, sent waves of euphoria and excitement through her. Her soul was open, and desperate to merge with this being. She had no control. No thought of right and wrong. That night, she was an animal: a creature of lust and wild desires. Carnal need was the only reason for her existence.

  He devoured her, his tongue and mouth travelling over her whole body. He did not speak, merely touched and took what he desired. Suddenly she felt a hand pushing inside her, wiggling, and another finger rubbing her clitoris intensely. With a shriek of desire, her nails dug into his back. She was pushed to the ground forcibly. She did not care. She felt her robes being cast aside, and her naked form lay bare to the city. She did not care: her cry when he entered her was loud and violent.

  Her hips thrust upward to meet his own frantic movements as he grew faster, more intent. He pinned her down on the hard ground, but the pain was nothing to her. Just him: his need, was all she required. Her eyes flicked open to see his face, and she was entranced by the pools within his eyes - black pools of opaque darkness, yet something, light, even stars, winking in his gaze: something so bright and beautiful. She was mesmerised by it, by him. The feelings hit her. Wave after wave, rising in intensity. His thrusts were hard and fast. So fast!

  It hit her then. She yelled loudly, her scream echoing through the street. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, and suddenly he exploded inside, and her mind was completely thoughtless. All she felt was a sensation, a burst of powerful energy coursing through her. Her soul swept upwards, joining his, and they danced in the open sky.

  In that instant, her life had completely changed. She was unaware of this, unaware of anything. All she could sense was the tingles in her body, and the feel of him on top of her. Yet, in the aftermath to come, her journey as a priestess of Untaba was ended and irrevocably lost.

  11. Usurpation

  Tears flowed down. The heavens opened and torrential rain poured down over the golden city of Malana. It was as if the gods of Elrohen weeped for their beloved city. Untaba, undoubtedly, weeped for his priestess.

  Vergail lay on the ground, in the middle of the street, with the rain hitting her naked body. Her eyes were closed. She could not move. She could not think. There were only sensations: the feeling of the cold rain, contrasting with the warm feeling inside
her, and the pain from the scratches and bruises on her body.

  Lorkayn looked at her, standing over her, and smiled. The rain poured down his grinning face, and each droplet seemed to burn his skin slightly. The ground around him shuddered and quaked with growing intensity. He gestured to the Slardinian to pick up the priestess, who did not cry out when the lizard man obliged, throwing her over his shoulder.

  Without a word, Lorkayn once more donned his tattered robe, more to stop the rain from hurting him than from any embarrassment of nakedness, and motioned for the Slardinian to follow. His destination: the high guilds of magick.

  Corg lifted Keldoran onto his shoulders. The young man was unconscious, and deathly pale. The juggler and Relb had been unable to find a mage in the guilds, and both had rushed back to Keldoran's chamber. Yvanna was still there, her eyes puffy from crying.

  The juggler had taken control. Having found no mages to help Keldoran, he had decided that they should leave the guild and head for the great cathedral in Malana, to seek the priestess' help. The priestess was a healer, and would comfort Keldoran until a mage could be found. It was a foolhardy plan, Corg knew, but he did not tell the others. They had a plan, which Relb and Yvanna needed right now just to stop their rising panic. Corg had every certainty that Keldoran would not survive the journey. Even now his body seemed lifeless in his arms. He had long ago stopped sweating, and his skin had gone blue, and cold.

  With few words, they started the walk towards the guilds' entrance. They did not know the way, having been shown to their chambers by a mage, so they were forced to backtrack on more than one occasion when they found themselves hopelessly lost.

  Yvanna said nothing, her head bowed, trying to hide her fresh tears from the others. She had always been a strong person, and this show of weakness hurt her. She genuinely felt scared for her life, and this was foremost in her mind.

  Relb had begun to chatter incessantly to everyone. He constantly asked Corg if Keldoran was alive. He constantly turned to Yvanna and asked if she was all right. It was as if the sounds of his own voice comforted him.

  Corg knew his companions were scared out of their wits and coping in the only way they could: Relb with his voice, Yvanna with her head bowed. As for himself, he had witnessed battles and come close to losing his own life before. He smiled grimly. Perhaps he was getting used to it, for he felt no fear.

  Ah, now they were getting somewhere! Steps descended downwards, and Corg took them two strides at a time, dextrously balancing Keldoran on his shoulders as he made haste. Yvanna and Relb rushed to keep up with him, as the feeling of urgency started to overwhelm them. They reached the bottom of the steps, and entered a large chamber. Yes! Corg remembered this. The entrance to the guild was here.

  The chamber was more like a courtyard, with stone tiles covering the floor. Pillars of obsidian stood tall and proud here, atop them strange glowing energies, lighting the way. There were long benches and tables here: obviously a meeting room of some sort. At the end of the long chamber was a doorway, and Corg knew this led to the outside. Practically running, the group flew across the chamber, heading for the door.

  Silently, the door opened on its hinges.

  The party stopped running abruptly. Yvanna let out a shriek of alarm and fear. Framed in the doorway was the sorcerer, with his pet Slardinian a step behind, carrying the prone figure of the priestess over one shoulder, mimicking Corg carrying Keldoran.

  Several things happened at once.

  Keldoran shook violently, seeming to be aware of the stranger, and his eyes flicked open, staring at the sorcerer. Unbidden his hands closed into fists. A harsh blast of blue energy erupted from his knuckles. The energy surged along the floor towards the sorcerer. When it collided with his feet, there was a huge explosion, as if his touch ignited a spark in the energy, and with a loud cry of surprise and pain the stranger was tossed backwards, along with the Slardinian. Once done, Keldoran collapsed back into unconsciousness.

  As the sorcerer fell, a voice came from across the room. "Over here!"

  Corg glanced sideways, and saw Nagoth, the Norfel, gesturing for them to follow him. They had not seen him before, and it seemed that Nagoth had just come out of a wall! He had obviously found a hidden passage. A good place to hide from the sorcerer before he recovered!

  The juggler herded the others towards Nagoth. All were stunned by Keldoran's sudden surge of power, but they could already see the sorcerer stirring from the strike, and they needed to escape quickly. Nagoth kept his hand on the wall, as if this was important to control the secret way. They gathered by the wall, and Nagoth disappeared through it! Corg nodded for the others to walk through.

  Yvanna stared at the wall, as if unwilling to walk through a solid object. Corg unceremoniously pushed her, and she disappeared with a yelp. Now was not the time for hesitation. Relb had no problem going through, and Corg followed him immediately, him and Keldoran being sucked up by the illusion of the wall.

  They found themselves stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. The walls were solid stone, and the place was very cold. Light came from blue crystals embedded into the walls at regular intervals, but they cast a very dull glow, giving everything a dark, foreboding atmosphere.

  "Follow me!" urged Nagoth, wasting no time in scampering down the steps. They did not challenge the Norfel. Behind them all was the sorcerer, and they were sure that if Nagoth could find a secret entrance, then so could he.

  The steps gave way to a small, round chamber. Here, five other passages led away into darkness. There were less blue crystals, too, and they were all struggling to see. "This is the beginning of the catacombs I heard Suralubus talking about," said Nagoth quietly. "I've not gone any further, for fear of getting lost. I found the secret entrance above last night, while I wandered the guild. There were no mages about - they must be all fighting the stranger."

  Corg was not pleased with the Norfel. "So, you've led us down here, to a dead end? The sorcerer will find the passage, probably with more ease than you did, and come down for us! Perhaps if we had gone further back into the guild, we would have been able to hide, or summon help from the balconies. Here, nobody can help us…we're trapped!"

  Tears came to Yvanna's eyes. She blinked them away angrily. She was determined not to show her fear to these people. "We're not trapped," she blurted out, her voice quivering slightly. "There are exits here...if the sorcerer follows us, we can escape."

  "Yes," answered Corg harshly. "By all accounts, these catacombs are vast. But we would get lost, and that would be no help to us, or to Keldoran."

  "W-what did he do, back there?" asked Relb. Corg shrugged. "He responds to the sorcerer. Something to do with his land magick. He could help the mages in their fight, I am sure, if he lives." The juggler gave Nagoth a baleful look. "We should not have come down here."

  "There was no time to debate our best course of action!" retorted Nagoth. "You were in trouble, I chose the quickest escape route for you. You should thank me." "Thank you?" Corg was incredulous. "I should cut you down where you stand! Not only that, you've removed all hope Keldoran had for staying alive!"

  "T-then," sputtered Relb, "We must go back. We can't just sit here and wait for Keldoran to die. Maybe the sorcerer will ignore the secret way, and enter the guild proper. We could sneak out of the front door!"

  "Maybe he will, and maybe he won't, but you are right Relb," said Corg. "We wait for a bit, then head back up those steps. We can't risk entering the catacombs. But if he comes down here-"

  "Then Keldoran can zap him again, and we can escape!" Yvanna finished the sentence for him.

  "Maybe he will, and maybe he won't," repeated Corg, "but look at him Yvanna. Keldoran looks worse for his energy discharge. He is so pale, so cold…I think another blast of that energy would kill him."

  "You don't know that for sure, he could save us. We have to have some hope!" Yvanna's tones went highpitched and try as she might; all could detect her fear.

  Above, Lorkay
n clambered awkwardly to his feet. He had been hurt, badly. The blue energy had been nothing like he had ever experienced before. As it had struck him, he felt an instant of immense coldness cover his body, before the hot explosion took over to knock him to the ground. The coldness had been far worse. It had entered his bones, making them brittle. It had entered his heart, freezing his blood. Even now, his body shivered. The power had felt ancient, part of the land around him. It rivalled his own power, and indeed, that of the priestess and her god. It was to be admired and respected.

  Lorkayn touched his wounds, which were many, in turn, and uttered the words of a healing spell. He started to feel better immediately as his power imbued in him once more. He could not control the shivers, however, and he frowned, as his power was unable to contain the lingering traces of cold.

  Feeling better, he strode over to the fallen Slardinian, who lay still, the body of the priestess next to him. He touched each of them in turn, on their forehead, murmuring his healing spells. It did not take long for the lizard man to wake, his constitution fit and strong. Vergail's chest rose and fell in a peaceful slumber. A small smile played on her lips, as if she was dreaming something delightful.

  Satisfied that his companions were alive and well, Lorkayn turned his attention back to the guild. Cautiously, this time, he entered; looking for those that had opposed him. There was no sign.

  It was the Slardinian's sense of smell that gave away the secret hiding place. Snarling, the lizard man discovered the illusionary wall, his nostrils flaring in hatred. He could detect the smell of other races as easily as seeing them.