Summons
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Selinthia Avenchesca
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zelna@sprint.ca
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The pain was all consuming for one single, clear moment. It exploded in his heart, his mind, flashing like fire. Bright, burning light, as painful as the sunlight of the surface was to his race. And then, it hovered, without feeling, without touch. There was simply, light. It encompassed him, smoothed his heart to calm. There were no thoughts, no perceptions. The only thing that he was aware of was blazing oblivion, and even that simply because it was there. Consciousness had lifted to another state of being. The light began to fade into a shuddering splatter of crimson, which some deep, buried part of his being recognized as blood. It collapsed, and solidified into a red wall, like stone, like polished fire rubies. Bindings, like a single, huge adamantine clasp about the whole of his form, registered, still by absent sensation. Thought was beyond him in those moments. A pressure began to overcome him, as though he were being forced into a space far smaller than he, himself, was. He tried to gasp in breath, but there was no breath to take. There were no lungs, no throat, with which to make the motion. He was floating, in emptiness. Distantly, he heard chanting, and a voice, familiar, but oddly unidentifiable. The one thing he knew about it was that he did not like it. Or rather, who it belonged to. Who was that, though? He knew not.

Another voice spoke then, and suddenly, a blaze of rage erupted in him at that voice. Infuriatingly, he could not identify the second, either.

"The summoning is complete. The spirit is once more ensconced in the body," spoke the second voice.

The first, sounding anxious, even fearful, said, "You are sure he has no control over the body?"

"I have told you before, Briza. No, he has no control. The spells keep him bound, and will continue to do so. There is nothing to fear."

Still, he could almost feel the continued anxiousness. Several short puffs of nervous breath erupted from several more beings. The second voice snapped out "Enough, all of you. He can do nothing. Have you not faith in our Queen Goddess?"

Several voices denied any lack of faith, and mutterings of "Hail Lloth," were heard.

The second voice, the one that caused such anger to erupt, spoke once more.

"Ah, Zaknafein. If only you could appreciate the irony. You gave your life so that he could live, and yet, he took not the chance you, in your sacrifice, and I, in my right, offered. And now, you shall kill him. Do what you would not let yourself do in life. We would all have been better off, had you but done so . . ." the woman trailed off into a chuckle that sounded very bitter. The, she whispered once more. "But you, my weapon master, will kill him now . . .soon. And all will be merry."

He, in growing awareness, listened carefully to her words. He did not quite understand then, but he knew he did not like what she spoke of. There would be a time to refuse, he thought vaguely. A time to defeat these words and whatever they meant.

end