“None. I didn’t design this ritual nor is it something I enjoy.” He said. “However, I’ll make you a deal. I have lived, generation after generation I’ve seen the march of progress and technology the likes of which you can’t fathom, pass into obscurity. I’ll fuel your strength when the harrowing rite invades your soul. Afterward I’ll give you every memory, every moment, blueprint, wealth of artifacts I can remember and the memories of others I’ve inhabited who had access to such knowledge. I won’t abuse you, I won’t set you on the altar to torture you, and I’ll be a wellspring of information the kind you could only dream about. You can write all the works you want. Have all the credit, I don’t care. I have names, dates, places, the lot.” Silver pulled Anaiah forward and kissed his forehead. “I can be what you desire if you so wish to have what precious few days or months of your life retained. To waste a being like you is a tragedy. Your acute and unique connection to magic flow is rare and in truth, alluring to me.” Anaiah hiccupped.
“I-I’m scared.” Silver ran his fingers through Anaiah’s braids, orange eyes gleaming with ill-concealed desire. Anaiah saw a terrifying hunger in those demon eyes and yet, they stirred a heretofore unknown anger in him. Though small it burned hot and Anaiah set his jaw despite his tears.
“I’ll be up front; every one of these rites has been a violent and painful affair; there has never been tenderness or patience involved.” Anaiah shivered. “I won’t confer that misery on you, I swear it.” Silver promised, lifting Anaiah’s face by his chin and beholding his dark eyes.
“Have me, and I’ll help you survive the oncoming ordeal. The harrowing rite peels back the layers to the soul, reveals your every weakness, fear, guarded or forgotten miseries and wakens your demons to shred your very essence to ribbons. I can get you past that terror alive if you make the compact with me. Once it’s all over I’ll do my best to be a comfort until your days end. You do not have to die here. If nothing else, you have the chance to bid goodbye to your family.” Anaiah closed his eyes and wiped the tears from his face. “It’s a chance to say goodbye to your mother, if no one else.” Silver intoned. Anaiah let go a sob before he nodded, voice just above a whisper.
“I accept.” He eked.
DuPont Manor
Khloe lingered on the floor in her bare room, her fine clothes sparing the drab cloth tunics and cotton trousers were gone, and any items of personal value beyond her bed whisked away. She sat up and stared out her window at the bismuth pyramid while swirls of rainbow light wove their way through the intricate crystal. Though she had spats with him, she worried her brother would starve to death before he died in his harrowing. We’ll be putting him in the ground. She thought. Her father and Cornelius had words more than once since the older mage had come. The strangest happening was Cornelius’s request that Martin remain until Anaiah could be reclaimed, treating the straw haired whelp like an assistant. The two stayed in the guest quarters, which was far above Horus’s current lodgings in the barn. Every day he stank like horses and the bags under his eyes grew larger.
A shaft of lightning whizzed down the cherry tree in the back yard with a fiery crack. Khloe flew up off the floor, rushed downstairs and out the back door to find her parents, the servants and even Cornelius standing with Martin. All stood stark and stared ahead at the fiery display. Khloe started. The bismuth pyramid aglow for the first time in two days rumbled, its low unsettling hum rattling her teeth.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“I-I can’t believe it.” Cornelius sputtered. “He might actually be alive.” He said in disbelief.
“I told you. He’s a mage and any mage can survive a-” bright light interrupted Lord DuPont’s victory speech. The clatter of shattering crystal followed, a hot white flash burst overhead and disappeared in a thunder clap. The rain beat down on them in the next second as steam rose from the flames of the cherry tree, pervading the garden as a low hanging fog. A dark figure loomed beside the fire pocked trunk, standing still.
“Anaiah?” Khloe hazarded. Laughter emitted from the fog subtle and under the breath, but Khloe heard it rise and as the smoke cleared her eyes widened.
Anaiah stood before them, eyes orange and dragon-like with slitted pupils and irises so wide his scleras disappeared. A grey spot blotched over his left eye as it might appear on a cat or a dog, his eyebrow silver. The spot so large it went up into his hairline and encapsulated his left ear now large and pointed; locks of his hair transformed with a silver reflective streak from root to tip. His singed sleeve and trousers revealed grey skinned limbs neath their tattered edges. Khloe froze. The self-satisfied expression on Anaiah’s face alien to him; she didn’t recognize her brother at all.
“Who are you?” she asked aloud by accident. Anaiah narrowed on her and gave a sly smile.
“Quick, aren’t we?” he said with a graveled voice also not his own. She heard echoes of her brother’s tone but, she knew it couldn’t be him. The man carried himself straight backed and even shouldered, also unlike her brother.
Anaiah reached up his hands. The next lightning stroke engulfed him, charcoaling the gravel. As the light faded blue runes appeared on her brother’s skin from head to toe as he absorbed the energy.
“I haven’t had a body this young since my own. I’m mildly pleased with the results.” Anaiah said. Khloe’s face twisted into disdain and her nostrils flared.
“You didn’t answer my question!” she shouted.
“Oh, do forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve been at the helm.” He bowed to her. “I am Silver, The Abyssian. You may call me ‘Silver’ if it pleases you.” Khloe huffed.
“How ‘bout your real name?” Silver cackled.
“Oh fool girl, what dolt gives his real name to anyone he doesn’t want controlling him?” Cornelius stepped forward and bade Khloe to step back. Silver eyed him.
“Have you destroyed Anaiah?” Cornelius asked. Silver’s cattish grin widened and he set his eyes on Lord DuPont.
“Much obliged for the body you’ve given me.” He glanced back to Cornelius. “Primordial magic, we’re patched into a single soul for the time being.” The older mage paled, the horror on his face raising alarm.
“What have you done to my son?” Lord DuPont growled, he put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“And what are you going to do with that, waggle it menacingly at me?” Silver chortled.
“I’ll do what I must.” DuPont threatened.
“I believe it. You did hand me virginal fields to plow with your boy.” Silver’s monster eyes sharpened. “And I did, in the context you’re thinking.” Horus drew his sword the air hissing sharp as it left its scabbard.
“Horus, no! That’s still Anaiah’s body, that’s still our son!” Laurel cried, grasping her husbands arm. Silver took a step towards Lord DuPont.
“Oh by all means, stick me. I haven’t had pain of my own in ages; I must confess to a certain romanticism about bloodletting.” Silver growled with sick delight.
“Release my son, creature.” Laurel snarled. Silver’s cruel laughter echoed through the charred garden.
“That’s not how this works, my lady. He and I have made a compact, seeing as how he’s a dead man walking anyway; I inherit his body after he rides the pale horse.” Laurel’s shoulders sagged and her mouth fell open.
“And what the hell do you mean?” she charged. Silver arched an eyebrow.
“It means if your son is still alive six months from now, it will be nothing short of a miracle. You can’t send an untrained mage into my realm and expect there to be no consequence for it.” He said, pleased with himself.
“W-what?” Horus stuttered.
“Oh, does father dearest not understand a basic tenant of magic?” Silver teased. “Anaiah needed to be harrowed before he got to me. Not during. As such, I shook the sheets without music for that one too.”
“You sick son of a bitch!” Lord DuPont raged, his grip tightening on his sword.
“Now, now, let’s not bring my mother into this. Awful though she was, it’s impolite to speak ill of the accursed dead. They might hear you and put in an appearance.” Silver laughed.
“If Anaiah had won the fight-” Lord DuPont tried before Silver cut him off.
“He didn’t.” Silver said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He couldn’t even come close and by the time I’d realized you sent me an untrained child, he was two limbs and one eye short of a full puppet.” Silver sighed, swaying on his feet. “And now I’m afraid his body needs to have sustenance or he’ll die of dehydration. You couldn’t even send him to me on a full stomach; that’s poor planning on your part.”
“I beg you; tell me you aren’t serious.” Lady DuPont pled.
“You think I look so pretty for a lark?” he pointed out his splotched skin. “Now, I’m sure someone around here is servile.” Silver sighted down Etta who jumped back at his gaze. “Water, if you please.” He said with mock politeness. She shivered a nod and slipped through the back door.
Lady DuPont approached him, reaching for her son and putting her hands on his shoulders.
“Tell me he’s still in there; tell me he can hear me.” She begged, tears flowing out the corner of her eyes. Silver, whose eyes had a natural cruelty in them, softened.
“My lady, when he comes to he’ll be right back at the helm. He was exhausted such he couldn’t raise his consciousness even to wake himself before he starved to death. That is why I’m here, it does me no good to procure a body and then die the most preventable death there is.” Laurel released his shoulders and wiped the tears from her eyes. Etta returned shaking so much water in the glass tossed over its edge. Silver reached out with his grey clawed hand and took the cup.
“I won’t bite, dear lady.” He said with gravel in his voice.
“Says the rapist.” Horus jabbed. Silver downed the water in a second and returned the glass to Etta.
“And whose fault is that, exactly?” Silver growled. “Every mage I have ever been sent knows the price of doing business. Every last one of us who is trapped in one of these-” he raised the back of his hand and indicated the orange freckled jewel now set in the flesh rather than its original silver bracer. “-Is compelled under the terms of our employment to perform primordial rituals to bind the soul. You can’t have two separate souls in a single body; it’d tear a man apart.” He folded his arms and regarded Lord DuPont with malice.
“If you’ve hurt him-”
“Hurt him? Hah!” Silver interrupted. “The man you wish to do battle with stares back at you from the mirror!” The distinct pleasure in Silver’s voice left Khloe shaking. He took such sick delight in his taunts; she did her best not to think about what he’d have done first to Anaiah.
Comments (4)
See all