The Girls of Ohmer Chapter 17
Scott Tragg had been a wizard long ago, a close companion of Toms. Unlike other wizards who had done their best to try to retain their magic, Tom and Scott saw the futility of it. They used their last bit of power to cast longevity spells on each other in order to live long enough to find a resolution to the problem. Tom was twelve hundred and thirty-three years old, but Scott was over fifteen hundred years old. In their prime, Tom had been a more powerful wizard, but Scott was the wisest of the two.
Where Tom became a traveler and craftsman, Scott concealed the entrance to his castle in the mountain and began establishing the town of Casa Dagger.
He changed personae every fifty years or so in order to evade suspicion by the townspeople. This one of the bum, was his favorite though. It was easier to just bask in the open air on the bridge and watch travelers go by when one had no responsibilities.
Scott owned most of the town so he had no worries about finances. He got a pleasure in the thought that the stinky bum on the bridge was really the richest man in town.
Agents handled his money and investments for him, he only required that they obey his messages delivered by courier and affixed with his seal. The courier often made withdrawals for Scott and deposited them in a secret place for him.
Tom sat across from his host, sipping mango brandy. "Oh, this is the best! I haven't had mango brandy in ages. It's my favorite you know." Tom sipped again and closed his eyes, savoring the warm sweetness as it went down.
"Well" said Scott."when it's ages in honey amber for six hundred years, it tends to be the best." He grinned, appreciating his long life and the benefits it brought. Who else could wait so long for their spirits to age.
The crystal castle was a veritable treasure trove of fine articles he had collected throughout the ages. Some things he had made himself, long life extended the possibilities of an artisan. For example, Scott Tragg made the finest violins in the world. He selected the wood and aged it himself, then spent well over sixty years constructing them and fine tuning them. They were beautiful and their sound was heavenly. There were only three in existence. Two others had been destroyed, one in a fire and one in a robbery.
Every hundred years or so, Scott would gift an instrument to a promising violinist. He would then begin making a new one for himself. The ones who received his gift went on to fame and fortune. Inevitably they were invited by an anonymous benefactor to play a solo performance on the bench at the bottom of chasm street. The violins haunting melody echoed up the gorge, filling the whole town with beautiful music. The best place to hear it was at the center of the bridge on market street.
Scott poured himself a tumbler of the prized brandy as he sat across the table from Tom. "So my old friend. What sort of trouble have you found yourself in this time?" He lifted the glass as he lifted an eyebrow at Tom and then took a slow sip.
Tom took a deep breath, noting how the pain in was his side was much lessened since the morning, or perhaps since the brandy. "The trouble with evil wizards locked in enchanted caves, is that they tend to get restless," Tom began "it seems our nemesis has made a deal with the devil for another chance at glory. Or at least a deal with a horde of demons."
Scott set his glass down, seemingly unsurprised. "Yes that is a troublesome thing about evil wizards." He leaned back in his chair examining the problem. "Well, that at least explains the the increase in demonic activity here of late. As well as the reports of travelers coming from the east. They say black riders are sacking villages and taking prisoners."
Tom agreed. "They are, but it's not random at all. The soldiers are harassing an old friend of sorts, taking her family line into custody."
Scott leaned forward, this was new information. "Well go on!" He said expectantly. "Who is the old friend? Do I know him?"
"Well yes." Tom started. "You knew her quite well. Serendipity."
Scott reached for his glass, tilted it back and finished the priceless brandy in one gulp. "She's alive? How? When? Wha..."
Tom savored the experience. He had never seen Scott struck dumb before.
++++++++
Emelia sat in her quarters. She wasn't dreading the torture to come, she wasn't crying about her dead father. She wasn't even whimpering about her beloved Timbob. She was basking in the glory of the power of the dark.
The thick rancid coldness flowed through her, filling her with the need to wretch and the power to lash out. She gained control over the rising sickness by fantasizing about what she could do to that overseer, what she would do to him.
She grinned as she used her new power to bend chain links and shatter them. Then she used the same power to melt the shattered dust and mend her chain. This was phenomenal! She had never had such an easy time with the light, it was too structured, too much care was required.
Emelia wielded this dark gift with abandon. She didn't want to be found out before she got the child, but if she did, she would just kill everything in her path until she found him.
That other had been timid, speaking of unlocking the light again. Emelia sneered at the Idea. What could the light do in the face of this power. It was fast, it was easy, it was what she'd wanted all the long. She could master this, she could reign supreme, with her new son as her prince!
But now she would wait. Her time was coming soon enough. And when it did, she would wait no longer.
++++++++
Nina prepared herself for the return of the overseer. Even with the benefit of the black magic, she took time to improve her appearance. She had been supplied with a change of clothing since her arrival, but she had retained the revealing underclothes she had worn beneath the robe. Now she put them back on, adjusting straps and cinching clasps to benefit her particular shape. She admired her reflection. She had to admit that she was quite captivating,
"That overseer doesn't have a chance." She remarked, turning to see her backside."Not a snowballs chance in hell."
After preparing herself, she sat in a chair and awaited the overseer. Her plan was to lure him in while he still had the baby. Then she would use her wicked wiles to enlist his aid in releasing her daughter and son in law. After that, they would slip away into the night. After that...she didn't know, but getting out of this fortress was the most important thing.
++++++
Brock brooded.
Brock worried.
Brock was going insane.
Not that he ever had what others might accept as pure sanity, but this was different. He was constantly assaulted by the voices of the demons inside him. They laughed and cajoled. They read his thoughts and commented inside his mind. Opposing views and ridiculous assumptions all mixed up with his own inner dialogue to the point where he didn't know where his thoughts started and theirs began. it was soup of conflicting reasons and memories.
He had the child. He had the mother and the grandmother too. His plans to regain his power were right on track. All he had to do now was continue feeding the child with the "milk of sorrow" as the prophecy had put it, and in less than a year the boy would be strong enough to grasp a knife. Then with the help of a demon possessing him, the "child of light" would slay his maternal bloodline and release the power of magic to men.
Brock did not know how the magic was captured into this particular bloodline, but the prophecy spoke of the time and the place and most importantly, the golden eyes. Brock could feel the power inside, he could almost touch it.
That time would come. For now he had only to stave off the madness of the demons. For now he had only to survive the taint of mirth filled evil.
Brock brooded. Sitting on his dark throne as he waited for his destiny.
No comments:
Post a Comment