Years before Brock forged his foul pact
with the demons, before he broke out of his millennial tomb, a baby was born.
Unlike the sweet golden eyed Timbob, this child was foul in every way. She was
the complete and utter opposite of the chosen one. Her mother was a witch, her
father, none other than the demon Pakaar.
She was born under the full moon in a misty swamp, with a host of dark
beings present.
The child
was conceived in hate, birthed in sickening tribute to the darkest of powers.
She was designed to be the harbinger of wrath, but the best laid plans of
demons and men often go awry.
There was a group of paladins called
the Legion of the Son. At one time they had numbered in the thousands but years
of conflict and battles had dwindled their legion to a mere twenty-five loyal
troops.
Despite their small numbers they never failed to answer the call of
duty. They were dedicated to the solemn
oath to protect the innocent and root out evil wherever it may be.
Upon learning of the events taking
place in the swamp they took swift action to prevent the abomination from being
released on the world. Just as the birth
was taking place the paladins charged in among the demonic beings and fought
them with every ounce of courage and tenacity they could muster.
The paladins cut the opposing force
in two then circled around the alter where the mother had just died giving
birth to the demon seed. The repulsed
the attacks of the demons and witches, taking losses with each sortie of black
foes. The paladins closed ranks,
tightening the circle with each fallen comrade until their backs were against
the alter.
The evil coven took losses as well
but fought tenaciously to save their hope for dominance. The child had been infused with such a great
amount of dark magic that she would be all powerful if she were allowed to
survive.
It was the
final skirmish for most in attendance. Both sides took heavy losses. Paladin blessings against demonic curses,
bludgeons and shields against claws, it was holy hell in the moonlit hollow. When
the final spell was cast, all were silenced save for two; a wounded paladin
named Fredric and a cooing newborn child with black eyes.
Fredric
stumbled to his knees and drawing his dagger, he prepared to dispatch the child.
When he looked upon her and wept. Every part of him rebelled against killing a
newborn (Protect the Innocent!), just as he reasoned that this was his purpose
here (Root out Evil!). He could not let
this evil continue, yet he was powerless to stop it.
Fredric
reasoned that his only option was to find a holy man to somehow cure the baby. He
sheathed his blade and lifted the child into his arms. Wrapping her in the tale of his cape he
struggled to his feet and limped out of the swamp.
++++++++++++
Dan the
potter was traveling home from the market.
He took a yearly trip to Bargerville because he got the best price for
his wares in the city, but it was a tiring journey nonetheless. He was happy to be heading home to his
kiln. Dan was a solitary man, preferring
to keep to himself since the death of his wife some years before. He often
spoke to her as if she were still there; looking up toward the sky he remarked,
“We’re makin good time today, might just be there by sunset if the weather holds.”
Then he nodded as if there had been a reply and clucked at his horse.
Dan
adjusted the reins, placing them in one hand so he could shade his eyes from
the rising sun. Ahead on the road there
was a lump. As the cart drew closer the lump became a man lying across the
wagon rutted path. Dan reined his horse and stepped down from the cart.
The man was covered in mud, blood,
and soot. He wasn’t breathing. By his clothes the man appeared to be some kind
of soldier, but Dan knew of no garrison nearby. It had been ages since there
had been a war in this area of the land.
“What do you make of this sweetheart?” Dan asked his ever present
illusion of a wife. “Well I can’t just roll over him, I guess I should drag him
to the side. Give me a hand would ya?”
Dan grasped
one of the soldiers’ ankles and began to drag him off the road. Just then he noticed a bundle in the mans’ stiff
arms. The bundle was moving. When Dan
uncovered it he found a darling baby girl with dark eyes.
“Look here Emelia” He said to the
sky. “It’s just what we prayed for. What
do you say we name her after you?”
Dan picked up the child and
ignoring the dead soldier, climbed back onto his cart. He held his new daughter close and sang her a
lullaby as he continued the journey home.
++++++++++++
Scott stopped at the crest of a
hill and wiped his brow. “This used to
be a lot easier!” He remarked to Tom.
“You’re telling me!” Tom shouted “I've got blisters on my
blisters!”
Hilario joined
the old men with Vay on his shoulders. He looked at Scott “Hey Mister how much
further? I don’t think I can listen to
Tom crying much longer!”
Tom frowned
at Hilario but was too tired to find a witty comeback. His years were telling on him after the days
of hiking and camping in the hills.
“We’re here.” Scott replied.
He pointed up a steep incline to the mouth of a rather large cave.
“Woo Hoo” shouted Erica as she dismounted Bear. “Finally!”
Tom surveyed
the surrounding area and pointed to a flat spot just ahead. “How about we set
up camp there and rest up for the night? I don’t want to try charging into
Brocks lair feeling the way I do right now.”
“Rest
sounds good, but we better backtrack a little to remain secluded in case
someone exits” Scott warned. “In the morning we can try out the password, but I’d
also like to have a sentry in case the veil opens before then.”
Hilario was
about to volunteer when Bear said “I will watch.” Then she stalked silently to
some shrubs that concealed her while giving a view of the cave. Bear stretched and settled comfortably under
the shrubbery. She watched the cave
intently but occupied herself with bear thoughts; the smell of the wind, the
sound of her breath, the taste of her next meal.
The weary
party set up camp and ate cold rations of leftover rice and dried fish. The tasty food had all been eaten on the preceding
nights. At times like this Erica envied Bear who seemed to enjoy anything they
had to eat and ate it with contented abandon.
Hilario relieved bear on the watch so she
could go to the camp to snuggle with her sisters. With the increase in altitude the temperature
had been dropping every night and the sisters depended on bear to supplement their
own heat under the sparse traveling blankets.
Hilario hid beneath the shrubs
feeling grateful for his green jacket and rabbit skin boots. He watched the
color of the mountain deepen as the sun set and thought of his home. He felt
that familiar ache in his chest that even his adventurous spirit could not
ease. “Soon” he whispered to himself. “Soon I will finish this and then I can
return to help my own people.”
++++++++++
Brock no
longer brooded. He was beyond plotting to rule the world. He was broken and confused. For the first time in his long existence he
was unsure and afraid. The pact with the demons had been foolish, his
infatuation with Nina unexpected. A part
of him felt that she was the only one who could save him from the trap he had unwittingly
set for himself, for all mankind.
How rapidly
his fortune had turned. In a single
moment that seemed to last an eternity, Pakaar had brought Brock low. From his new place Brock could see the world
from a different perspective. All of the
suffering he had caused was thrust upon him in that frightening moment when
Pakaar had ripped a piece of Brocks soul away.
Now Brock was left with an empty place that brought sorrow to him. That combined with the maddening chorus of
demons infesting him made Brock regret.
This was a new thing to him.
Never before had he wasted a moment on regret or indecision, but now
everything was different. He was the weak, he was the oppressed, gods help him,
he was the victim of evil. If only he
could rid himself of the parasitic horde that tainted his thoughts, Brock might
then begin to make amends. He might then be able to grasp his sanity
again.
All of
these things Brock kept to himself by dividing his thoughts. On the surface he was screaming at the demons
within him to shut up. The louder his
inner voice, the more they jeered and cajoled. Underneath the din of insults
and curses, brock quietly plotted. He reasoned
that Nina had some power over demons, after all had she not incinerated the one
he left behind to trap her at the midwives house? If he could enlist her help
either willingly or subversively, Brock may have a chance at defeating the
demons inside him. But how could he do
this when she had failed to regain consciousness for the last five days? Maybe by enlisting the demons to help wake
her, he thought.
++++++++++++
Nina
lounged on her beach sipping mango coladas and watching the waves. The drinks appeared beside her on a golden
tray. There must have been magic
involved because as soon as she finished one her glass would evaporate and a
new full cocktail appeared on the tray.
“Mmmm,
Yummy” she said as she sipped a fresh drink. “This has to be the best day ever!”
Nina
continued sipping cocktails and watching the waves. The serenity of this place was filling her
with the most content feeling she had ever experienced. Something tugged at that contentment though;
a feeling that she had unfinished business somewhere. It was like a mosquito
buzzing at the periphery of her vision. She waved her hand as if to dissipate
some smoke. “You worry too much.” She said to herself. “Just enjoy the day for
once in your life.”
Nina leaned back and let the warm
salty air caress her skin as she basked in the relaxation of her beach.
+++++++++++
Emelia hid under a veil of
blackness. Just a few feet away from the wretched portal that prevented her
from leaving Brocks stronghold, she huddled with her child. Waiting, watching, she
knew that the ninth gate would be opened sooner or later and when it was she
would be ready.
She passed the time with her boy, holding
him and feeding him. To keep her
strength up Emelia summoned rats from the lower levels. When they approached
her she snatched them up and gorged on the rodents. Then she fed her boy the tainted milk of her
cursed bosom. She was pleased to see that he liked it; he grew in strength and size
at an unnatural rate. She guessed that in a week her little Timbob might be
able to walk on his own. At this rate he
might be full grown in a year.
She
grinned at the prospect as she looked into his eyes while he suckled. Those golden eyes were clouding over with
darkness so that they almost matched her own.
And why shouldn’t her child have her eyes? It was only natural that a son should favor
his mother.
++++++++++
In the
middle of the night Scott joined Hilario under the shrubs. “Hilario, get some sleep” he instructed. “I’ll
finish the watch”
“Hey Mister, what we gonna do when we get in there?” Hilario
asked.
“If we get in there” Scott responded “There is no guarantee
that the password we have will work.”
Hilario had learned that correct pronunciation was key to
making the password work, so he asked “Have you practiced the way to say it?”
“Yes I have.” Scott assured him. “I believe the correct way
to pronounce it is “Emosewa Siyrrot” Scott elongated the S’s and rolled the R’s
deep in his throat.
Immediately
after Scott spoke the words there was a crackling sound at the top of the
embankment followed by a rush of warm stale air that rolled down the hill like
stale fog.
From inside
the cave there was a jubilant howl that pierced the night and echoed in the
canyons below. “FREEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee!” This
was followed by a cold black streak that smelled of death and feces. The apparition flew past in an instant, blotting
out the starlit sky, and screaming into the distance.
Hilario
gasped “I’m sorry to say this Mister but I think you just screwed the pooch”
Then he sprinted to the campsite to alert the others in the rescue party.
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