Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Space is but a window, time but a door. Message-ID: Date: Wed, 12 May 1993 16:36:24 GMT ADMIN : Here, as promised to y'all, parties, excitement, and a serious danger. I present the thirteenth chapter of Sorceror ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Generica: In the fair and lofty city of Generica, jewel of the world of Nexus, cross-point for many differing types of people, there are many strange and wonderful things. There are also many strange and horrid things. This city is most recently one to have weathered an enormous storm, and it's citizens are celebrating the fact. It is also a holiday of old in the Generican calendar known simply as Generica Day because it is, according to historical records dating back centuries, the day of the city's founding. It is going to be a day of song and laughter, and a huge festival, so say the citizens. All is being paid for by Melwis the Wise, Ruler of Generica and Merchant of no small fortune. Shift the focus, move back in a planar sense. See the big picture. Beyond Generica, there has been much magical activity of a hostile nature centering around a city far to the North. That city is called Magira. There has been war in that city for days, and it has just recently, and quite s suddenly, come to a sudden stop. The city is in ruins and it's rulers, the Academy, are not in any position to hold a celebration. Beyond Nexus, to the planes around, there is trouble brewing. Many Astral beings can sense the closeness of Inferno, the Hell of Tangthara, and his many minions. Both it and Nexus are closer to each other than they have been in centuries, particularly at Generica's general area. There could be much trouble brewing. There is another, much smaller plane, much closer to both of these. It is a miniplane by all accounts, run by a minor demigod in the grand scheme of things. He has retained his old mortal name from the time that he was young and ambitious. He is simply named Sorceror, and most of Nexus has forgotten his name with time and other matters. He is planning, and has been for a long time. Power is his goal. His only goal. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Wild cheering rang throughout the streets of Generica as people young and old got the city ready for celebration of the coming night-time. There were banners to raise, paper hats to hand out, drink to drag from the cellars, massive ammounts of food to be cooked and prepared. Children were gettin under everyone's feet but nobody seemed to mind. In many areas of the city, there was already a party in progress. Bards tuned their instruments, some others played, cashing in on the expected upturn in money to be made. Even the Spitting Cobra was getting ready for the coming attractions of the night, and rumour flew around that Trawm was actually seen cleaning his beer mugs to a polish. Trawm naturally denied everything, including the "slashed ale prices" rumour. Performance acts were getting together and warming up. High up on the Keep and the other Towers of Generica, many engineers, partcularly Dwarven ones, were hard at it setting up the fireworks display that Melwis had ordered. There was general air of pure happiness ringing, even through Low City where enemies were said to be forgoing their hatreds and actually be partying for one day. This was a day for fun and for song. Some said that maybe, just maybe Listener, famed Bard of the equally famous Dragon's Inn, might actually come out and enchant the crowd. All was speculation, none was hard fact. A select few in the know said that the blonde surfer called 'Raelf was a competent man of illusions and would dazzle the crowd with many and varied illusions of breathtaking scope. Other select few in the know said that the first select few were talking rubbish. Others said that both were speaking absolute bull, that it would be the whole Mage's Guild that would perform for the crowd. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Iglyarch looked out from a high window upon the scene below. He was in his home, a large three-storey house, gazing out upon the crowd with nothing but hatred and a glint of victory in his eyes. It was almost time, he knew, for this city to finally know the wrath of him and his Master. So long he had waited for this moment, learning with every ounce of passion, performing his Master's commands to the absolute best of his ability. He thought of when his Master had first come to him, twelve years ago, and brought Iglyarch back to his home plane. Iglyarch had been the pride of his class in the Guild, learning all about many areas of magic. But Sorceror had chosen him above the rest to act as the Master's servant and be well-rewarded. Iglyarch remembered travelling all around the world, learning from his Master all the while. The great life he had led, gaining more power under the Master's guidance. He remembered the first time that they had taken direct action, with the kidnapping of the brat Dougl and taking him away on a journey into the sea, only to be caught by Karl, Kron and others. All planned, of course. He also remembered his apprentice, Cassandra, slain in her youth by that despicable elf Silken. He remembered every detail of the battle, the sudden appearance of the elf, and the bite of his sword. He had escaped and vowed to catch that elf and burn him very slowly to death. The Master had approved. He remembered hiring the assassin named Lucien, a dark elf, who could have done the job if not for the fact that Silken was supposedly some old elven lord or something ridiculous. Lucien had turned Iglyarch's house upside down quickly and killed his two best men. Iglyarch had only recently taken over Creft the Fence's position as Strongman in the crime scene after Creft had met an unfortunate end at the hands of Seer and his Wasters. The Master had not thought that the Mother would move so soon, yet he quickly used it to his advantage in the city. Kron lost his position as Sergeant of the Guard, and went off to find his own sister among the Great JellyFish herself. Iglyarch had been sent then to help ensure the safety of the KronQuestors as they called themselves (ludicrous name). Silken had been captured by Sorceror and sent to suffer years of torment in the plane of Inferno. And that pleased Iglyarch mightily. He liked that sort of revenge. He had helped out the KronQuestors and fled the battle scene and them to their fate, while Silken returned, having spent a mere few days by Generican standards in Inferno, and was infected with the curse placed upon him by the demon lord: vampirism. This pleased Iglyarch even more than it had before. The elf was now the Master's pawn, an assassin being sent to kill the fool called Kron and tie up that loose end. That had been a bad moment for Iglyarch. He had been sent out suddenly, unexpectedly, to deal with a lock-on trace from the strange creature that he later learned was called 'Raelf. He had nearly been killed in that encounter, and Sorceror had had to retreat his influences on the elf before he was discovered. Kron had not been killed, but he proved inneffectual anyway. No, it was the elf who became the problem. He was off among the timestreams using the device given to him by 'Raelf. Curse that elf. He didn't even know what he was looking for, but went anyway. And had had to be dealt with before any problems could have arisen from his interferance. Sorceror had let Darmal deal with that, and the elf careered back into the point where he would have been to begin with. Darmal. When did that thing become Sorceror's second in command? The Minion was even now causing wars to prevent the Magirans from understanding Sorceror's influence before it was too late, just as he had done here in Generica. Iglyarch hated Darmal. The Minion wasn't even human, but it was arrogant, strong. Sorceror seemed to prefer him, yet Iglyarch maintained his loyalty. The penalties for doing otherwise would have been very harsh indeed. Yet always the elf got in the way. He had made contacts and offered a great deal of money to any who would take upon them the task of slaying the vampire. He was responded by more vampires. Five vampires calling themselves the Hunters. They seemed up to the job, and Iglyarch offered it to them. To catch a thief, use a thief, as the old saying went. Well, here were five thieves. Alex reported that the elf had been practically burned alive during the storm only two nights ago, but had escaped at the last second to an unknown location. Silken scared Iglyarch with his apparent indestructability. Perhaps he was just very lucky, like that Ex-Waster named Rook. Either way, there was no time left to deal with the whole goddamn mess. Tonight was the night, said the Master, and we would just have to defend ourselves as best as possible from the elf's scheming. Darmal had just reported that the Magiran war had ended with his discovery, but that it didn't matter any more. He was making directly for the appointed meeting place, Saelex Keep. The sun dropped below the horizon. Iglyarch listened as a town crier proclaimed, "Hear Ye! Hear Ye! BY ORDER of His Lordship, Melwis the Wise, I hereby Pronounce these festivities to be officially open" There was a huge cheer and many crackers and fires were lit. Bards started to play and the merriment had begun in full swing. The parade appeared about ready to start up, and drink was being poured out and passed around by the gallon. Iglyarch turned and closed the window. "Ah yes, Generica, tonight will be a night such as you have never known." He smiled inwardly to himself, and began to cast a spell, to teleport to Saelex Keep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ To the Northwest of Generica, in times long past, there was a great battle that took place, called the battle of Saelex. Saelex, so the legend goes, had been a lord of men, and defended his people from attacks by Orc Hordes from the North. He had built a maginificent, sturdy castle atop a hill, and it was named in his honour. Yet, as the tale goes, the mighty Lord Saelex fell to the hand of his brother through prison. The Orcs had been defeated, and the brother became Lord of all he saw. His name was Geryic. Geryic was a fop, a robust and greedy man. He lusted after power, and led his people through many stupid conquests into the Marshes. Saelex Keep was left standing, but fell into disrepair. Eventually, the Orcs reformed under a new leader and came out of the North. Geryic's army rallied, but were hopelessly outnumbered and the Lord died ignominiously. The Castle remained, and for many years was left. Centuries have passed since then, but tonight, there will once again be trouble and strife and perhaps even battle in Saelex Keep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Darkness surrounded the castle as Iglyarch materialised outside the front gate. He surveyed all around him. The Castle was not the same Keep that he had visited days before. Saelex Keep was run-down originally, nothing but a few lop-sided walls and bricks in the grass. But here, he was staring at a full castle with dark, menacing spires, midnight black, and many rooms. It was eerie, not the same place at all. Darmal had done a good job, Iglyarch was forced to concede that at least. No doubt the Master had aided him quite a lot, however. Iglyarch walked tentatively under the drawbridge, peering at all the dark eerie corners. There was a figure standing across the courtyard wearing flowing black robes and a hood. Iglyarch could see a glint of silvery skin showing through under them, however. It was Darmal, he knew it. "Iglyarch! So happy that you could make it, old boy" it called out to him. Iglyarch merely nodded and concealed his hatred as best as possible. The drawbridge crashed shut behind him, which startled him suddenly. He whirled around, expecting attack from the elf of all things, but all he got was an earful of scronful laughter from Darmal. The Thing just cackled inanely to itself. "What's the matter, Iggy-pooh? Did we get a little scared?" "Darmal, shut up and let's get on with it. Some of us have work to do, you know ", Iglyarch retorted and walked over to the main keep. "Yes, of course Iglyarse, can't keep the boss waiting, can we?" Iglyarch wanted so much to jusst blow Darmal away, but he wouldn't have been able to do it. Darmal controlled a small ammount of Primal given to him by Sorceror. Why hadn't Iglyarch been made a minion? Why this foolish lump of walking silver polish? It confused him greatly sometimes. They descended the stairs into the basement, to a large area that was once a storeroom, but which had been cleared to create a wide space for certain people and things to have standing space. Iglyarch trembled with excitement. At last, after all these years, after all his hard work, after all that messing with the elf, his Master was coming forth to teach Generica a lesson it would NEVER forget. He was absolutely over the moon. Darmal merely smiled to himself quietly and observed everything. There was a small row of crystal balls , all showing images of various parts of the castle, surrounding countryside and surrounding planar space. "What are the defenses like?" Iglyarch asked in a very off-beat manner. "Better than you could do, PiddlyFart" Iglyarch turned on him. "For the last time, silverado, my name is Iglyarch, do you understand. Kindly treat me with respect that I extend to you." Darmal just suppressed a laugh. He stopped suddenly, keenly aware of a presence having entered the area "What is it?", asked Iglyarch in a whisper. Darmal just smiled his very broad smile, and Iglyarch understood perfectly. The Mage got up and took a piece of chalk with him. He began inscribing a circle all around a small area of the floor, murmurring powerful enchantments as he went. He closed the circle after about ten minutes of drawing and chanting then stood up and gestured in wide sweeping manners, whispering words, the commands of magic. He gestured more vigourously, taking a glass rod and a bottle of a greenish substance. While still incanting, he smeared the rod in the green liquid and dashed it to the floor at the substance and dashed it to the floor at the climax of his incanting. Power slowly began to flow through the circle, and many bright lights began to shine nd picked up over the whole area. nd emanated from the center of the circle. It was blinding, put suddenly, there was a figure standing there, resplendant in midnight black robes, without a hood. His hair was a vibrant golden yellow, and literally shone. He was more handsome than any man Iglyarch had ever seen. His eyes were golden, and they held a certain intangible quality about them. He was majestic, beautiful, but cold, ice cold. He looked beautifully cruel and emanated an aura unlike any Iglarch had ever known. The Mage fell to his knees in reverance to his Master, and just looked on in awe at the sheer power and splendour that this being exuded from every pore in his body. "Sorceror ", was all that Iglyarch could say in a whisper to his Master, the ancient demigod. "Rise, Iglyarch. " The Mage did so, without question, awaiting his Master's every wish and command. He caught a glimpse of Darmal, who appeared to be ready for something but also in equal awe to the Demigod. Sorceror's eyes met Iglyarch's eyes, and held the Mage's eyes effortlessly for a long time before speaking to him. "Iglyarch, my servant ", his voice, beautiful and melodious, " you have served me as apprentice and worshipper for a long time. You have performed admirably in many tasks and never questioned my will. Your strength has been my strength, your wits have been my wits. Ah, Iglyarch ... " Iglyarch looked up with pride at his Master. " ... I wish it did not have to be this way ", Sorceror's voice had filled with regret suddenly. Iglyarch knew pangs of fear with those few simple words. He looked into his Master's eyes and saw that his Master had indeed got plans for him. Terrible plans. "Master, what did do wrong? What did I say wrong? Please, tell me!" Sorceror looked at Iglyarch, not a trace of pity or emotion in his eyes. "You did nothing wrong, servant. But you are useful, necessary" "I don't understand, Master ..." Iglyarch mumbled, his mind paralysed with fear. He was sweating a cold sweat, shivering. "You, Iglyarse, are the best candidate in a field of one. He requires your soul to use to open the Portal. You are to be sacrificed", Darmal said simply, and looked to the Master for confirmation. Sorceror merely nodded slowly. Iglyarch stepped back in horror. His own Master was going to slay him to further his own ends. His mouth formed a silent "NO", and he looked left and right, seeking escape. There was none. He could feel the magical boundaries around this place. He could not escape. "Master, why not Darmal?? Why ME???" "Because I need the soul of a loyal mortal wizard to open the Portal. You are that mortal wizard. This has been planned from the beginning, Iglyarch. Accept it as your fate ", Sorceror's voice was entrancing, beautiful, but it did not sway Iglyarch. "And if I do, what will become of my soul, Master?" he was desperately thinking of a way out of this, but no options presented themselves suddenly to his disposal. Sorceror looked into his eyes, held him there. "Your soul ... ", he began and waited for a second, " ... Your soul will be destroyed by the spell of opening, or possibly trapped for eternity in the fires of Inferno." Iglyarch had had enough. He screamed in terror, and turned to run out the door. But his feet wouldn't move. He erected his wards but Darmal dashed them aside as if with an afterthought. He tried to cast a spell at Darmal to fry his innards, but the spell winked out before he could do anything. At last, he turned to Sorceror, who remined callm and placid in front of the maddened wizard. Iglyarch gathered spells and cast them at his former Master, as many of them as he could manage. All simply harmlessly splashed off Sorceror's body, or the area around. At last Iglyarch was too tired to even think of a new spell. ceror was All he could do was break down crying, and begging his Master not to kill him. "Please. You don't have to kill me. You don't have to sentence me to oblivion or eternity in hell. Please Master. PLEASE. After all I did for you, after all we've been through together!! I deserve better than this!!" Sorceror looked into the eyes of Iglyarch. "No man deserves anything, Iglyarch. You must take whatever you want, not expect it." With that, Sorceror nodded to Darmal. Darmal cast a quick spell that bound Iglyarch. Iglyarch screamed out, a piteous horrible scream, but no-one would help him now. Darmal then went over and picked up the paralysed Iglyarch, dragging him across the lab to a bench covered by a black cloth. Iglyarch's voice howled and screamed. "Pipe down PiggyFart, it'll all be over soon." Darmal took the black cloth off the bench. Iglyarch ssaw that it wasn't actually a bench, but it was a large stone altar, with a very wickedly barbed knife sitting on it. Sorceror strode over in a slow, graceful manner, and awaited the body to be placed upon the altar. Iglyarch had stopped screaming. He was just too terrified to try any more. He was laid down upon the altar. He thought of one thing and o xxxx one thing only. He thought of a message. A simple message. A Distress message. He readied himself, thinking that he would only have one chance to get it right before he was sentenced to oblivion. Sorceror began to chant. He was using words of power like Iglyarch had never heard before. They rang out over the whole area, resonating with the stones. His hands weaved slowly, beautifully, gathering magic with such as Iglyarch had never seen. Iglyarch closed his eyes, awaiting the end and what he hoped would be his chance. The words rang out over the whole area still. Iglyarch was remembering. He remembered his Master. Betrayed at the last, Iglyarch saw that it was all over. He had run his race. Now, it was time to hang his hat and close the door on life. He opened his eyes, seeing Sorceror lift the knife high above his heart and wait in that brief moment when their eyes met. Sorceror's eyes misted slightly for just a second, and his mouth worded "Goodbye" silently, then with as much force as the demigod could manage, he plunged the knife straight into the heart of his former servant. The Pain struck Iglyarch for just a brief second, then he was out of his body, hanging in space and determined. With all of his will that was left to him, Iglyarch concentrated, focussed his mind and sent out a message to all who could hear. "WARNING SAELEX KEEP! WARNING SAELEX KEEP! WARNING SAELEX KEEP!" Then, he felt himself being dragged, pulled towards a black pit beside him. There were voices coming from beyond the pit, but Iglyarch ignored them. He concentrated on his message to the world. Please, somebody stop this maniac. Then he was falling down, down, and knew unbearable heat and torture. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ As the city partied, a dark and sinister carnival or travelling band approached the city of Generica. It called itself Drakes Carnival. It came from the direction of Saelex Keep to the city. Little did Generica know what came their way tonight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Iglyarch RIP (never) 1992-1993. May his like never be seen again. -- Mithrandir [tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie] Bill has loads of guns, and bombs, and more guns, and is dead cool. How is dat for Carictar Devleopment -- Alan O'Dea