Chapter Eleven
Legion watched from afar as the afternoon waned and the last of the Illuminar enemy disappeared westward over the peak of the crystal bridge that spanned the
“Bring me the Gathân captive,” he ordered a gargoyle. “I have need of his blood.”
Moments later, troops brought Brinn, still bound, before Legion.
“Remove his blindfold and gag.”
The gargoyles slapped Brinn about as they took the dirty cloth strips from his eyes and mouth, obviously enjoyed roughing up their prisoner. Brinn absorbed their blows and struggled mightily against his bonds, but it was useless. His arms and legs were tied fast. Blinking in the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun as his eyes were unbound, Brinn looked out and was dismayed. Beyond his gargoyle captors a massive army of goblins and wolf-riders were gathered, their numbers stretching away as far as he could see. He saw no sign of R’ille or the Illuminar host. Only the dirty, tattered goblin banners waved in the breeze. Above him, Brinn saw more of the few gargoyles that had not fallen from the arrows of the Illuminar. They hovered alongside several Nil'Ganash. He lowered his eyes and settled his Nil'Ganash captor. He remained silent.
Legion spoke in the Immortal’s tongue. “Ni amán nor sa’ar.”
I have need of your blood.
Brinn spit at Legion in answer.
“I thought you might feel that way, Gathân. No matter. You’ll be happy to know I have devised a cruel end for you.” He laughed a hideous laugh, and the surrounding troops rose up in a raucous roar.
Legion pointed at the crystal span. “In a few moments we will march over this bridge and finish your wretched race. I shall force you to watch your kin perish, their souls offered up as food for my master.”
Brinn just glared at Legion and said nothing.
“Enough of this drivel. It is time to call forth the Lord of this world. For that, as I said a moment ago, I need your blood.”
At Legion’s command, several lumbering trolls brought up a large wooden stake and pounded it deep into the ground at the edge of the cliff near the start of the crystal span. The goblins placed Brinn’s back to the stake so that he stood looking out over the great chasm. They cut the cords to his hands and arms and drew his limbs back behind the stake. Legion produced a black iron chain, and the goblins bound his hands behind the stake with it. While he was being bound, Brinn took a moment to study the strange span of crystal near him. He saw how it grew out from the edge of the cliff towards Illianor, disappearing in the haze beyond. He raised an eyebrow and guessed that he was looking at his people’s escape route. He wondered how R’ille had managed it.
“Your mate created this bridge with the wand of Earth,” Legion explained gleefully, as if reading his very thoughts. “She discovered the power of the wand and, with it, created this span. She thought she was creating an escape route for your wretched kind. She does not understand that, having lost her soul to Shaitan, everything she does turns to my master’s gain.” Legion sneered. His face grew close to Brinn, his fetid breath washing over the Immortal. “By creating this bridge, she has given access to the one place we were unable to go. Your mate has given us a way to reach Illianor, where we will slaughter your people and end your race forever!”
Brinn winced at the awful news. His heart ached for R’ille. In order to save him, she had sworn allegiance to the Demon Lord. That act had apparently given her the power to wield Illinzor, and with it she had created the crystal bridge. Her act had given her the means to deliver the Illuminar to the safety of Illianor, but what a cruel irony fate had delivered: Her action to save her people was going to doom them all.
Legion took great pleasure in seeing his captive realize the horror of his mate’s mistake. He confirmed Brinn’s fears. “Your mate has doomed her race. Prepare to watch as my master leads us to their slaughter!” Legion turned to his massed army.
“Ilnu turana Shaitan sada!“
Let us bring forth the Demon Lord!
The goblins and trolls screamed with bloodthirsty glee, joined by the howls of the wolves.
Legion turned back to Brinn, drawing a sword. It was Brinn’s own Nyakil. With its tip he drew a large pentagram in the earth with Brinn positioned in the middle of the symbol.
“Your blood will bring forth our Lord and Master,” Legion said as his eyes narrowed. “Let us see how your gift of healing handles a Nyakil blade!” He took the Nyakil blade in both hands and, without warning, thrust it deep into Brinn’s belly. Brinn cried out. The enemy roared.
Legion’s thrust was so vicious that the Nyakil blade passed completely through Brinn, and through the post behind him, its bloody tip extending a foot out the back of the stake. A searing burn ran through Brinn’s stomach. Bright red blood poured from the wound and pooled at his feet, directly in the center of the pentagram.
Legion released his grip on the blade and put his fingers to the gushing liquid. Licking them, he savored the Immortal’s blood for a moment. Then he raised his arms skyward and cried to the heavens. “Shaitan, neg Lach, Ni halla nil Lazn ach cor panazh!”
Lucifer, Lord of Darkness, I call upon my master with an offering of blood!
The pain in Brinn’s stomach burned like a fire he’d never felt before. He tried to bend his will to close up the wound around the sword, but he failed. He managed to slow the blood flow to a trickle, but he couldn’t completely stop the bleeding. The unearthly magic of the Nyakil was opposing his power to heal. Blood continued to drain from his body; he was powerless to stop it. He cursed at Legion. “May the wrath of Ár-Ádun strike you where you stand!”
The gargoyles quickly gagged him.
Legion and his underlings watched something forming above their captive. Brinn followed their eyes up to see a black mist forming over his head.
“Turana, Lazn. Udo za erechag,” Legion spoke to the swirling blackness.
Welcome, master. All is prepared.
The dark mist responded with its own question, red eyes burning from within. “Ash panazh ne hu na, izzal?”
What do you offer me, slave?
Legion bowed his head, palms held outward, and then answered the cloud. “We drove the enemy to the edge of the chasm, and they opened a way to cross into the sacred land. That path lies open to us now, Lord. I have summoned you knowing you would desire to lead us across this span to complete the slaughter of the Gathâni!”
The eyes in the mist turned westward and looked across to Illianor in the distance. It spoke as if to itself. “Ah, the forbidden land. There I could not go until a bridge was made. Now I can claim for my own the one place in the world that was kept from me!”
The mist coalesced until it stood as a giant figure dressed in black armor wearing a black cloak and hood. “Well done, Legion. Well done.”
The Demon Lord turned from his chief servant and noticed Brinn pinned to the stake.
“And what of this insolent one?”
“He is to be a last sacrifice to you, master, after the other Gathâni are dead. Until that time, he is placed here to watch the horror of his people’s annihilation, knowing he was the bait that lured them to their ultimate doom!”
The Demon Lord lowered his hood. There was no head; only an iron crown suspended above two glowing red eyes. The hot crown smoldered. “Excellent work, Legion,” the Demon Lord twittered. “You shall occupy a lofty seat in my new kingdom!”
He stepped toward the Illuminar captive.
Brinn met the Demon Lord’s hellish gaze with blue eyes that were unafraid. He had never before seen the Demon Lord in his material form, but he had battled his presence for years uncounted. He had witnessed both the blessings of life, given to the world by the Creator, and the curse of death, spread by the Demon Lord. Death was something that Brinn did not fear. Long ago he had been given a choice, and he had chosen the side of good, to follow the Creator. For that, he had been given the gift of immortality. Brinn knew that, after bestowing such a gift, the Creator would not abandon him now. He spoke not a word as the Demon Lord approached, but his eyes revealed he had no fear, and that made the Demon Lord furious.
“You will learn to fear me, immortal one.” Lightning flashed from the sky, and the thunder that followed was the Demon Lord’s voice, filled with anger and vitriol. “I will make you rue the day you were given this gift of immortality. I will give you, instead, a more dreadful gift: I will spare your pitiful life and leave you alone in this world, separated from your kin forever.” The black giant continued its vehemence towards Brinn. “Do you enjoy this gift of immortality? I will make you loathe it. I will leave you pinned to this stake for all eternity. Your loneliness will drive you mad and you will beg for death. You will seek for ways to take your own life, but you will fail. In the end, Gathân, you will beg me to take your life from you. You will see, Illuminar,” the Demon Lord said, spitting out ‘Illuminar’ like it was bile in his throat. “You will see. The day will come when you will gladly give me your soul!”
Brinn answered the Demon Lord. “I name you Kirin Sa’an; soul stealer. I will never give my soul to you, Lucifer. I will fight you for all eternity, yea until the stars fall from the heavens, even if I am the last of my kind.”
“Ah, but you are not the last.” The Demon Lord laughed a hideous laugh. “You say now that you will never yield your soul, but that will change. One day you will beg me to release you. One day you will beg me to take your soul. And though you will perish that day as your kin across this span are about to, on that day you will not die as the last of your kind. Upon your death, yet one other will remain. One who serves me; one whose soul I already own.”
There is another? Brinn didn’t understand the Demon Lord’s words. Was he speaking of R’ille? Was she the one who would remain? She had given away her soul in an attempt to save him. Was she the one of whom he spoke?
“No! R’ille will never serve you!”
Brinn grew silent, his blue eyes radiating defiance.
The Demon Lord laughed, and thunder rolled across the void of the chasm. “Do you hear me, Illuminar? Your soul is mine. You belong to me. To prove it, I will mark your flesh as my property!” And with that, the Demon Lord removed a medallion from around his neck and held it up for the slavering armies around him to see. The medallion was a pentagram. “This symbol marks those who belong to me!” he cried, and the armies chanted their master’s name in response.
“Shaitan. Shaitan.”
The black-robed giant turned to Brinn, catching sight of the Nyakil that pierced his abdomen. His eyes flared with intensity as he took pleasure in the pain inflicted upon the captive. As he came closer, Lucifer shifted his gaze from the blade in Brinn’s belly to the center of Brinn’s chest, and with scarcely more than a wave of his gloved hand, tore open Brinn’s leather armor. The Demon Lord took the pentagram medallion and pressed it against the exposed skin of Brinn’s chest. That medallion had rested upon the Demon Lord’s chest from time immemorial, heated by the hellish fire within the beast to a white-hot glow. It burned Brinn’s flesh like a brand, leaving a blackened, blistering pentagram-shaped scar. Smoke and the smell of charred flesh rose from the searing wound. Brinn slumped forward screaming as the pain overwhelmed him. .
The Demon Lord placed the medallion back around its neck, and let out another booming laugh as he mocked the immortal. The sound of that laugh struck fear in the hearts of both Brinn and the evil army around him. The black-robed lord turned away from his sagging prisoner and strode over to the crystal span. He stepped up onto its beginning lengths. Holding aloft an iron scepter, he motioned his forces to advance. They responded by shouting his name, and their trampling feet upon the crystal bridge drowned out the sound of all other things.
No comments:
Post a Comment