"Come on, Basil, give us a story!" the dwarf
exclaimed, slamming down his tankard and motioning for the
barmaid to fill it. It was far from the first time the mug
had been refilled, and even with his legendary tolerance for
alcohol, Gerok's words were slightly slurred. Even so, his
request was taken up by the other patrons, and they all
turned to look at the elf trying to be ignored in the
darkest corner of the bar.
Seeing all eyes on her, the elf sighed and moved toward
the center of the room, bringing with her a small ivory-
inlaid case. The men sitting at the centermost table
vacated for her, and she turned one of the chairs around,
satting to face her audience.
"First of all," She began her protests, "I do not tell
stories. Stories are fantasies to entertain the gullible.
I tell histories, to enlighten and educate. And secondly, I
don't tell my histories just to hear myself speak. Even I
have to eat." Several patrons tossed small coins onto the
table. "Surely you jest? A mere ten coppers? Perhaps I
should bring Misha the priest, instead. For a donation of
ten coppers, I'm sure he'll fascinate you with one of his
stories." She placed scornful emphasis on her last word,
and rose to leave, pleased to have avoided work for the
night, but the sound of heavier metal striking the table
turned her back around. The barkeeper, Tenkai, smiled as
she watched her eyes light up at the sight of the two large
gold coins on the table.
"And your drinks are free, so long as you don't start
sounding like Gerok." Tenkai said, "Now sit down and start.
Oh, and I'm still taking orders, mind you." Several patrons
ordered something to drink during the tale, and Tenkai
smiled knowingly.
Basil sat down and collected the coins from the table.
She didn't feel like putting in the effort for an honest
night of work, but the money was inarguably generous, and as
she's said, she did have to eat. Reluctantly, she opened
the wooden case as drew out a small, finely strung harp
constructed of a strange golden wood, and trimmed in blue.
"Any requests?" Several were offered, all of which she'd
long grown tired of telling. "How about Song of
Stormsinger?" That was met with silence, which she took as
dissent. "Lion Chronicles?" More silence. "Journies
Abroad?" She suggested hopefully.
"I'm sick of hearing about Stormsinger!" Gerok complained,
"I think you just made him up just so you'd have something new
to tell. I mean, honestly, who ever heard of a man who looked
like a lion?"
"Before Stormsinger, none. Do you dare to suggest that
my tales are anything less than authentic?" The other
patrons tried to silence Gerok, but he was far too
inebriated to take heed. Basil motioned for them to let the
dwarf continue.
"Yeah, actually, I do. I wanna know where you got him
from. I mean, you can't just have him pop out of thin air
like at the beginning of Chronicles, and say no more on it.
Can you?"
"Just who are you, Gerok, to tell me about taleweaving?
I don't care how much I'm paid, I'm not about to take that."
Basil paused and considered. "But I will allow that you
have a point. So be it, then. You want to hear about where
Stormsinger came from?" The dwarf nodded. "Well, now. That's
a tale I've never told." As she settle in to tell the tale,
her fingers strummed the harp absently, drawing out a slow
tune that spoke of distant lands, exotic and mysterious.
"Far to the South, across the vast cold ocean, there is
a great continent, a land so large that all the islands of
our Nine Realms and the oceans between them would fit within
it. On this continent in years long past, when even I was
new to this world, there dwelled a great magician, known as
Shirak. A great and mighty mage was he, a prodigy, a savant.
He was renowned throughout this Southern Realm for his skill
in magic, for the blessings with which Fortune had graced him.
But Fortune has ever been a fickle friend, and his faith in
her graces proved misplaced. Perhaps some of you have heard
of the dreaded disease known as Mage's Blight? No magic can
cure it, no prayer remove it, no leeches can draw it out. It
promises its victems a slow, agonizing descent into helpless
madness, destroying first the body and then the mind.
"In the fourty-third year of his illustrius life,
Shirak found himself afflicted with this most horrible of
curses. His friends, his family, his fellow mages, all
abandoned him in this, his hour of greatest need, driven
away by fear of his terrible curse. Undaunted, Shirak began
a journey, a quest, seeking to find a remedy for his
affliction. But everywhere he sought, he was told again and
again what he already knew; The Mage's Blight has no cure.
Resigned to his fate, Shirak returned to his studies,
determined to squeeze every drop of living available from
his few remaining years of health and sanity.
"As so often happens, he found the answer he sought as
soon as he stopped looking. In his study of beasts, he
discovered that some animals can be afflicted with some
diseases, while others will be completely unaffected. He
found this very puzzling at first, but it soon became
clearer; Some diseases have a favorite sort of prey. Yes, I
say prey, for his studies showed him that many diseases are
caused by an infestation of creatures so tiny they cannot be
seen, so small that a fruitfly seems a dragon in comparison.
Excited by this, he used his own tainted blood to perform
his next tests, and he discovered that of all the creatures
in the vast Southern Realm, there are only four affected by
Mage's Blight; Humans, Dwarves, Elves, and, for reasons that
eluded Shirak and that I certainly do not know, cows. All
other creatures are completely unharmed.
"Now you may wonder what good this knowledge could do
him. After all, it does him no good if, say, dogs are
immune, since he was a man, not a dog. But, what if he
could find a way to borrow the dog's immunity?
"Shirak spent the next year trying to understand..."
"What does any of this have to do with Stormsinger?"
Gerok demanded.
"If you interrupt me again, halfling, you'll never find
out." Basil returned, "I'm getting to it, but if you
distract me, I may forget what I was going to say."
"Shut up and listen, Gerok," Tenkai warned, "I'll throw
you out if I have to. It's bad for business to have you
ruining everybody else's fun." Basil nodded her
appreciation to Tenkai. "Oh, by the way, I'm still taking
orders." Tenkai announced.
"Thank you. At least someone appreciates my talents
around here. As I was saying, Shirak spent the next year
trying to discover exactly why other creatures were immune
to the Blight. At the end of that year, he had learned many
things about the miraculous workings of the flesh, but was
still no closer to solving his mystery. It seemed that the
Blight would defeat him at last.
"But then, when all hope seemed lost, an inspiration!
Perhaps it wasn't necessary to know where the immunity came
from? He began experimenting with cows, infusing infected
cows with blood from healthy cows. There was no effect on
the spread of the Blight. Then, he infused the afflicted
cows with the blood of immune creatures. As he had hoped,
as he had prayed, the spread of Blight was halted. However,
the cows soon died, slain by the alien blood flowing through
them. Shirak remained undaunted, for he now knew that the
Blight had a weakness." Basil paused and took a long
swallow from her cup.
"At this same time, on the vast western plains, there
lived a pride of lions..." As she spoke, the harp and her
words wove their magic, and the listeners found themselves
drawn into her tale.
Stormsinger lifted his head and caressed the wind. It
was early summer, and he now could feel the coming storm
constantly at the edge of his awareness. The plains grew
clouded, dark and heavy. He could feel the pressure in the
air and smell the rain on the winds, and called his pride
back to the den. First came Tailbiter, wild and strange as
ever. She was younger than the rest of the adults, but
there was also something not right with her... a look in her
eyes, intense at times and almost frightening, glazed and
dull at others. But, she was happy, so it was well enough.
After her came her sister, Cloudeyes, herding her cubs in
before her. Noser and Starwatcher, as usual, were less than
enthusiastic about coming in from the rain. After her came
Stonetooth, eldest of the pride, though you couldn't really
tell it from the way she moved. You only knew it when you
saw the wisdom in her eyes and the way she hunted. None
could stalk as cleverly as Stonetooth. Lastly came Sunrock,
Stormsinger's True Mate, and she was pushing a reluctant cub
named Growler in front of her. His brother Laughter was, as
usual, a few paces ahead. Stormsinger sighed at the
disparity between his sons. Growler was dark and moody,
almost constantly sullen, while Laughter was inclined to
bouts of wild joy, though of course, he had his serious
moments as well. The two were ever wont to quarrel, always
at Growler's instigation. For now, however, both were at
peace, and the call of the winds occupied more of
Stormsinger's attention.
Ser-Chup, Singer of Storms, the pride named him, and
truly he could feel the song of the storm rushing through
his veins, the raw, elemental fury of the weather. Noser
sat nearby, her nose twitching like a rabbit as she sniffed
the air. He looked around for his other daughter,
Starwatcher, and found her lying quietly in the corner, her
face bearing a look of thought. Sunrock came to him and he
greeted her fondly.
With a hiss, the green smoke quickly filled the cave.
Stormsinger stood mystified as first the cubs and then the
females slumped to the ground. Roaring in confused anger,
he rushed through the sparkling emerald haze, out of the
cave and into the storm. Outside, two figures stood,
silhouetted in silver by the rain.
"Hey, this one wasn't affected!" one of the men
exclaimed.
"Interesting." The other said, "A naturally occurring
magic talent, it seems. This one should make a most
informative subject."
Stormsinger didn't understand their words, but there
was no mistaking their sinister tone. He lept to attack,
only to find himself caught in midair. He struggled
desperately to escape the force suspending him, but darkness
overwhelmed him, and in a moment, he was stilled.
Shirak shook his head as he watched his men load the
lions onto the carts for transport back to his laboratories.
The experiments were going better than he had any right to
hope, but everything was still taking far too long. He said
as much to his assistant, D'San.
"Sir, I'm afraid you're being unrealistic." D'san
replied, "Completing the laboratory complex, collecting the
animals, performing the experiments, verifying our
results... These things take time." Shivak nodded,
impatiently.
"Yes, but it is time I may not have. I need the
process working before the Blight cripples me or drives me
mad. No matter how we refine the process, it won't help me
unless I'm alive and sane."
"Sir, you know that the dangers of rushing our
experiments far outweigh the risk of the Blight's progress.
I understand your impatience, sir, but we've still got a
long way to go."
"I know that, damnit, but that doesn't make me feel any
better. Phase II has hardly begun, and the process won't be
usable until Phase III, at the earliest."
"Well, I think we know enough to begin Phase III
experimentation, but we don't have any subjects. I mean,
who would volunteer to be butchered and have their body
magically melded with that of an animal? I mean, finding
subjects for Phase II is easy, we just take tissue samples.
Phase III means a complete vivisection of both subjects
and..."
"Damnit, I know what Phase III experimentation means!"
"Sir, a message has arrived for you!" one of the men
called, sparing D'san Shirak's continued wrath. Shirak
followed to where the message-bearer awaited. A large bird
with a vaugely saurian head sat perched on the wagon, and it
began preening itself as Shirak approached, recognizing its
master and creator.
"Speak, messenger." Shirak commanded.
"His majesty, the king, requests your presence in his
court at your earliest convenience to discuss important
matters of state." The bird gave a perfect immitation of
speech.
"Which king, you fool bird? There are dozens of petty
landholders calling themselves kings!" The bird hopped back
a step, fearing the anger in its master's voice. It gave
the only answer it knew.
"His majesty, the king, requests..." Shirak cursed
himself for ever thinking to use his early experiments to
create the bird messengers.
"Away! Be off, ignorant bird!" With a startled and
oddly indignant sounding squawk, the bird rose into the air
and flew to the east, as fast as its wings would carry it.
"It isn't the bird's fault, sir." D'san offered from
beside Shirak, "It only knows what it's been told."
"I know, I know, and if I ever find the fool who sent
that message, I'll use him for Phase III!"
"Sir, does it not seem that this summons might be from
Galeck?"
"Galeck?" It took Shirak a moment to place the name.
"Ah, yes, Galeck of Darklin. He rules the Low Province,
yes?" D'san indicated the affirmative, and Shirak shook his
head. "There are too many tiny kingdoms to bother keeping
track of. What brings him to your mind?"
"Not him, sir, so much as his son. The boy is gravely
afflicted with a terrible sickness."
"And you think Galeck would come to me for help?"
"I'm sure of it, sir. The boy's illness bears a good
resemblance to the Blight." Shirak's aide leaned closer,
lowering his voice conspiritorially, "We may have found our
first Phase III subject, sir." Shirak smiled, cold and
sinister.
"I like the way you think, D'san." D'san bowed, grinning.
"I learned from the best, sir."
"Welcome, Wizard, welcome!" Galeck boomed, sounding as
though he were greeting a long parted cousin rather than a
stranger known only by reputation, "I'm so glad you could
come."
"Truly, I would not have wanted to miss your legendary
hospitality, honored king. It is not often that one such as
I am offered it. Indeed, if I may ask, why..." Galeck cut
Shirak off with a loud clap of his hands, pretending not to
hear the half-spoken question. Immediately, porters
appeared to usher Shirak to his guest quarters.
"I'm sorry that I cannot show you to your rooms myself.
Urgent matters of state, you know. We will talk more at
dinner. Until then, make yourself at home." With that,
Galeck turned to leave and Shirak was practically lifted off
his feet and carried away.
Once the servants had stowed his belongings and been
excused, Shirak set about wandering the castle to pass the
hours until dinner. His was not, however, an idle search.
He searched methodically through the castle, disturbing
linin closets and scullery maids until he found what he was
looking for. On the third level, through darkly lit and
seldom traveled corridors, he found the object of his
search; a child's room. As he entered and saw the occupant,
however, he thought he might be mistaken, for surely, this
was no child? This boy, who sat in a cusioned chair,
restrained by fetters at his hands and ankles, must surely
be closer to twenty. Shirak turned to leave, and a scuffing
of his foot on the stone tile floor revealed his presence.
"Aw, please, sir, doan go." The boy asked, his voice
sounding amiable and open, "They've left me here all by me
loansome, they have, and it does git so borin with no-one to
talk to, an all."
"Well, I wasn't meaning to intrude. I thought you were
someone else."
"Aw, yer not intrudin', sir. I was just thinkin to
meself just how nice it would be to have a little comp'ny
for a spell." The boy motioned with his head to a chair
near his, this one lacking bonds. Shirak took the seat, and
found himself facing a young man, looking to be in his late
teens or early twenties. He seemed a handsom enough fellow,
with a smooth, well-shaped faced framed by chesnut hair that
showed signs of being neatly trimmed at one time. He looked
healthy, vibrant, and Shirak could see no trace of the
disease he'd been told the boy was carrying. His eyes,
however. There was something about his eyes, they way they
sparkled, the way they seemed to burn through you with their
intensity, that spoke of fevered insanity. But his manner
and appearance were so at odds with the facts Shirak knew of
Galeck's son that the mage found himself doubting the boy's
identity.
"I say, you are Galeck's son, aren't you? I was told
that he was deathly ill, yet you appear to be perfectly
healthy."
"Aw, yeah, I was a mite under the weathah for a while.
But I'm feeling much bettah now. Soon I reckon they'll be
lettin' me have me stroll through the woods again, eh?"
"Well, it seems that either Galeck called me here for
some other purpose, or he is wasting my time. Either way,
it was pleasant to meet you."
"Aw, sir, the pleashah was all mine," The boy said, in
his peculiar accent. Forgetting that the boy was fettered,
Shirak extended his hand to take his leave.
A momentary flash of manic glee was all the warning
Shirak recieved as the boy lunged forward and bit his hand,
sinking his teeth in and ripping away a sizable chunk of
flesh. Shirak jumped an amazing distance for one who led
such an academic life, straight backward, catching himself
on his chair and tumbling to the ground, his scream of pain
drowned out by the deranged hyena laughter of the boy.
"So, I see you've met my son," Galeck said as he helped
Shirak off the floor, an amused tone bordering on laughter
in his voice, "The fact that he's lashed to the chair wasn't
warning enough for you?"
"But, the way he talked.. I mean, he looks.."
"Damnedest thing, isn't it? He can act as innocent as
a lamb one moment, and then turn on you like a wolf."
"Are you certain he's sick and not just possessed?"
Shirak asked, but Galeck motioned for them to leave. When
the sound of the boy's sadistic pleasure faded behind them,
he answered.
"I'm positive. I've had everyone I could think of in
to treat him. Priests of every cloth, mages of every kind
imaginable, leeches and sawbones and old wives and anyone
else who looked like they might be able to help." He
lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, "Even a few of the
more... unsavory types, if you understand me." Shirak did,
and was amazed by the amount of trust--or desperation--
Galeck showed by admitting having traffic with witches and
dark priests. "If it was a deamon, High Priest Buraka would
have known. And if not him, then certainly Mistress Krendel
of the Green Horror. No, those few who know anything about
it tell me that it is a close cousin of the Mage's Blight."
He cleared his throat, and continued, "Which is why I have
asked you here. I have it from reliable sources that you
are close to curing the Blight."
"Not exactly a cure, honored sir, more of a radical
treatment."
"How radical?"
"So radical that it may well be years before it is safe
to use." Inwardly, Shirak grimaced at how true that
actually was. "I caution you against false hopes."
"That isn't acceptable," Galeck said flatly, his tone
hardening, "They tell me he'll die within the year."
"Him? He looks healthy enough. Surely..."
"Healthy looking, yes, but inside? The madness is
burning him alive. Even I can see that he can't go on like
this much longer."
"Surely there are charms and sorceries that will keep
him sedated?"
"He's under as many enchantments and spells and potions
as my best mages can manage without killing him right now,
and you saw how little effect they have! Doesn't your
Blight act this way?" Shirak nodded.
"So you want me to use my process for treating the
Blight to save your son?" Galeck nodded. "I'm sorry, but I
can't condone that. The process is far too experimental!"
"Do it, wizard. The risk doesn't matter anymore. If
there is a chance that it will save him, it is worth
trying."
"But the boy could die, or be changed beyond
recognition! There's no telling how much of your son will
be left afterward." Galeck sighed, a heavy, mourning sound.
"Wizard, my son died a long time ago. That... thing
back there." He jerked his thumb back toward the room where
the lunatic's laughter was dying down to giggling fits.
"Killed him. If there's a chance of salvaging anything of
my boy, I'll take it. No matter the cost. What do you
want, Wizard? Name anything, and I'll pay it."
"I ask nothing, noble sir. If you insist on this
treatment, I will do everything I can to restore your child
to health, but... you must swear a sacred oath that you will
not seek vengance against me if this treatment does not meet
your expectations."
"Of course. By my eternal salvation, I swear it."
"Excelent. Well, if we're going to do this, then
there's no time to lose. I will return to my laboratories
immediately and bring back a conveyance suitable for
transporting such a volatile cargo."
"My thanks are yours, Wizard. I am eternally in your
debt. Oh, and I'll send someone to your room with bandages
for your hand."
"Don't thank me yet." Shirak said as he turned to
leave. "Save your thanks until the treatment is done."
A week later, a large coach came to a halt before the
castle. Shirak stepped out, and introduced Galeck to D'san,
who bowed and made such obiesances as were appropriate. The
ordeal of transporting the madman from his room to the coach
was made more problematic by the fact that he seemed to pass
through magical restraints with little or no effort.
"You see?" Galeck said, "Magic hardly seems to touch
him."
"Sir," D'san whispered aside to Shirak, "Won't that
prove problematic?"
"It's something we'll have to overcome anyway, if the
process is to work on me later on. I think he'll do just
fine." Shirak whispered back. More loudly, he said, "There
is no problem here. If we can't restrain him with magic, we
can simply leave him in the chair. Behold." With a flicker
of his hands, the mage set the chair in motion, hovering it
inches above the floor before propelling it out of the room,
and pacing it several feet in front of them all the way to
the coach. D'san latched the coach door shut, and with no
further delay they left, heading north for the laboratories.
"Well, now, boy, pay attention." Shirak said to the
levitated youth much later, back at the laboratory, "I'm
going to explain the process to you. I doubt that you'll
understand much of it, but I want to see if you can remember
any of it after the process."
"Aw, come on, admit it." The boy said in his
disarmingly charming way, "You just wanna show off,
doancha?" Shirak still found it hard to believe that the
boy bound hand and foot behind him was really the same
lunatic monster he'd glimpsed before, but he had a nasty
gouge in his hand to remind him not to let his gaurd down.
"I won't argue that." he replied, walking down a
corridor and propelling the prince ahead of him at a safe
distance with a gesture of his hand, "Now, as I said, pay
attention. The disease afflicting you is highly resistant
to magic and utterly incurable by normal methods." He came
to a stop in front of a large panel window, looking down on
a wide holding pen. Below them in the pen, several vaugely
bovine shapes milled about. "This was our Phase I
experiment. We afflicted cows with a disease similer to
yours, and then applied our treatment. We took other
animals, who proved to be immune to the disease, and
combined their tissues and traits with those of the
afflicted cows. To do this, we had to magically alter the
basic features to an amalgam state."
"An amal-what?"
"Amalgam. We made the cow's tissues similer enough to
those of the other creature that they could co-exist when
the same process was applied to the other creature's
tissues, giving them properties like those of a cow."
"Oh, so you just made 'em sorta half-n-half, part cow
and part somethin else. Kinda like makin your own
werewolves."
"Smart boy." Shirak nodded, "Yes, it is a bit like
that. We then observed which tissues produced the best
resistance to the disease, and used this information in the
next Phase of our experiments." The wizard moved on,
sending the lad ahead of him. They stopped in front of a
larger window farther down the corridor. "Now this is where
the fun really begins. Here we are doing what only gods and
savants have ever dared." In the pen below them, several
shapes with varying degrees of human shape were huddled.
"By the Ten, what are they?" The lad asked.
"Not the work of the Ten, boy, but my creations. We
really haven't finished this Phase yet, but you can see our
early sucesses. We took various tissues from human beings,
manipulated them magically into a quantity and form we could
use, infected them, and then used the amalgamation process
from Phase I to combine them with animal tissues, imbuing
the beasts with human-like traits while giving the human
tissues immunity to the disease. Below you can see the
results. Of course, a high percentage of our attempts
proved to be degenerate, but that is to be expected. We
are, after all, practicing an art never seen before."
Looking down, the boy could see the poor souls the wizard
spoke of. Twisted, mishappen, painful to look at, they
gibbered and screamed and writhed about in their agony.
"But the others, boy, the others! Are they not beautiful?"
The others he referred to were shambling about aimlessly in
the pen. The prince had to admit that they did have a
certain sort of beauty about them. Humanoid in body, animal
in feature, they ranged from rabbit to cat and from squirrel
to wolf. Despite their humanoid shape, however, it was
obvious that there was no spark of human intellect in their
brains.
"I doano, they look a mite on the dim side, if you ask
me."
"Well, yes," Shirak admitted, "Altering the brain has
proved to be most problematic. Most of the degenerates were
created when we became too ambitious with the brain
amalgamation. For some reason, it resists our efforts. Not
to worry, though, we will prevail." Shirak began pushing
the boy forward, "Anyway, onward to Phase III, which is what
you should be most interested in."
As they left, the boy noticed a group of creatures that
he'd missed before. Huddled near each other in the corner
just below the window, they were almost completely hidden
from view. If he hadn't looked back just when he had, the
boy would have missed them entirely. These subjects had the
well-formed bodies of the shamblers he'd already seen, but
they were obviously different. One, a feline of some sort,
saw him looking and alerted the others with a soft cough.
They all looked up at him, and he was surprised to see a
very human anger smouldering in their eyes. Several of the
shamblers stopped, their vacant expressions replaced with
malice. The boy almost laughed when he realized that Shirak
was being outsmarted by his own creations. Then the window
passed out of view, and with it went the vision of burning,
hating eyes.
"Well, here we are, then." Shivak said, coming to stop
in front of yet another window. This one, however, gave a
view of an empty chamber.
"What, you made 'em all invisable?"
"No, this is the holding pen for Phase III subjects.
Once the process is done, it will be your home."
"What?" The friendly, open tone had vanished, replaced
with a voice that dripped with evil and ill-intent.
"You are going to be our very first Phase III subject.
You should feel most honored. We already have the perfect
beast chosen for you." Shirak looked over at the enraged
boy and smiled. "Maybe this will teach you not to bite
people."
"No! You can't do this to me!"
"I can, and I will. Of course, I doubt that we'll get
the process exactly right, but then, that's why we call it
experimentation, yes? Look at it this way, your sacrifice
will greatly advance the progress of knowledge. Isn't that
exciting?" The boy told Shirak exactly where he and the
progress of knowledge could go and what they could do with
each other, with a degree of vivid detail and graphic
explicitness that left Shirak wondering what sort of people
the boy had been exposed to before he became infected.
"Well, I can see that you just aren't going to be up to any
decent conversation anytime soon. I suppose we had better
return you to your cell." With that, Shirak sent the boy on
his way, marching him back to the "guest room" they had
prepared for him.
The next day preparations began for the grand
experiment. D'san was pleased to see that his mentor was
practically beside himself with anticipation and seemed to
have shaken off the melancholy that had been afflicting him.
After all, when Shirak was unhappy, he made certain that
every one felt much the same. Woe betide a cheerful fool
who crossed paths with the mage when he was in one of his
dark moods, which came more and more frequently as time went
by. D'san feared that these moods were a precursor to the
Blight's inflamation, though he kept that to himself. The
thought filled him with dread, though not for Shirak's sake.
'Please, may he live a few years longer', the aide
silently prayed, though he strongly disavowed all gods,
'There are only a few things more I need to learn. I can't
let the bastard die now, when I've gained his confidence and
am so close. The old fool doesn't realize the potential of
what he has discovered.'
"D'san!" Shirak's voice called from behind him. D'san
quickly banished any thoughts but those he wanted Shirak to
know of. Few mages actually possessed the ability to
casually read the mind, but one could never be truly sure,
especially with one of Shirak's stature. "D'san, my boy,
how soon will it be ready?"
"The apprentices are setting the wards and underlying
magics in place right now, sir, and the lion you chose is
being prepared for sedation. We should be ready to
undertake the major stages of the process within three days,
with any luck."
"Then it will be done in three days, luck or no."
D'san bowed.
"Of course, sir." The aide paused, hesitant to openly
question his mentor's judgement, but decided to voice his
doubts anyway. "Sir, about the lion. Are you sure it's
wise to use that one in particular?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the beast has already demonstrated an innate
grasp of elemental magic. Sir, you are adding variables in
what is already a very chaotic experiment. I do not doubt
your judgement, sir, but will this wild factor not
invalidate our data?" Shirak sighed, though he did not seem
as displeased with the question as D'san had expected. His
sigh seemed intended more toward the state of the world in
general than at D'san.
"D'san, my boy, what do you know about true genius?"
"Only that it resides in you, sir." That earned an
approving smile.
"Besides that. You claim you recognize genius in me,
but do you know what genius truly is? Can you define it,
outside of your one example?" D'san thought his answer out
carefully, as Shirak expected him to.
"No, sir, not having experienced it first hand, that is
to say, not being such a genius myself, I don't believe I am
qualified to say what genius is." Shirak nodded, letting
D'san know that he'd given the answer that was expected.
"Very good. Now, I will tell you what genius is. It
is not merely a matter of intellect, though assuredly, that
is a great part of it. No, what separates brilliance and
cleverness from genius is one thing: instinct. I have an
instinct for magic, just as that lion does. And my
instinct, my intuition, tells me to use this subject. I
believe that wild talent you fear just may be the factor
that decides this experiment for the better."
"I understand, sir. My only question now is about the
repeatability of the experiment. If it succeeds, and your
instincts are true, where will we find another such beast?
Finding this one was merely by the purest chance."
"Yes, but that is because we did not seek animals with
such a talent. Beasts exist that posses magic naturally.
They are a bit harder to catch because of that, but if it
makes the process work, it will be worth it. By the Ten,
I'll hunt down manticores and Asmodacus himself if need be.
Whatever happens, D'san, I will survive, do you hear me? I
will survive!" Towards the end, Shirak's voice rose to an
angry shout.
"Yes, sir, of course. I do not doubt you." D'san's
meek reply calmed Shirak's sudden inexplicable rage. Shirak
sighed, this time for himself alone.
"So it begins." He pronounced, shaking his head.
"Inform me when all is ready." He ordered D'san, as he
walked away.
"Yes, sir." D'san toadied, then, when Shirak was out
of earshot. "So it begins, indeed."
"Sir, the room has been prepared, and both subjects are
ready, if not terribly happy about it. There is one
problem, though." D'san informed Shirak a few days later.
"Yes?"
"The boy, sir. He isn't responding to any method of
sedation. We've tried potions, elixirs, magic, even using
the light fixation technique you suggested. Which reminds
me, when you have the time, I'd like to talk with you about
that technique. I'd like to understand exactly how it
works. It looks like magic, but from what you say, anyone
can do it. I..."
"Hit him over the head with something." Shirak said,
sounding as though he had ignored the entire last half of
what D'san had said.
"Sir?"
"The boy. Take something fairly heavy and just smash
him over the head with it. Talk to one of the physicians,
they should know the best spot."
"Yes, sir." D'san said, sounding hesitant and a bit
troubled. "Um, you were serious, right?"
"Yes, very serious. Can you think of any other way to
make the boy unconcious?"
"Uh, no. I just thought that..."
"D'san, my boy, I may be about to make history, and
find the cure that I have been seeking for years. Don't
bother me with details."
"Yes, sir. The boy will be ready when you arrive."
"Good. See that he is."
The boy was indeed unconcious when Shirak arrived to
begin, though he had the physician make certain that he was
otherwise without permanent harm. Once the boy's health was
established, the lion was brought in, and the two subjects
lay side by side, both senseless.
"Are you sure of this, sir?" D'san asked, one last
time. "It isn't too late to consider another.."
"I am certain. Poor D'san, you can't feel it, can
you?"
"Feel what, sir?" D'san confirmed.
"Destiny. Fate. Good luck, if you want to call it
that. Forces are aligning in our favor, my boy, and if you
were sensitive enough, you could probably feel it.
Everything is perfect. We may begin."
"Very well, sir. Where shall we begin?"
"With the vivisection, of course. I have told you how
I want the lion cut, yes?"
"Yes, sir, most explicitly."
"Very good. You and the other task mages can handle
the lion, then, and I will deal with the boy." They went
about their seperate tasks, D'san's pride still smarting
from being lumped together with mere task magi.
'A task mage, am I?' he thought, 'When the time comes, we
will see who is the lesser mage, prodigy or not.' He ordered
the magi to begin the vivisection of the lion. Gathering
their magics, they formed etherial blades, sharper than any
material scalpel could be, and began to make the incisions
as they'd been directed. They were astonished to find that
their blades dissapated upon contact with the lion's flesh.
'That damned negation again!' D'san seethed, 'I told the fool
we should have used another beast.' Aloud, he said. "Stand
back. I will make all the incisions personally."
"But, Shirak said..."
"Silence! I am in charge of this proceedure. The
ultimate responsibility lies with me." They could not argue
with this, and therefore they stood back, while D'san called
upon his secret reserve of spells, magics which even Shirak
didn't know he'd learned. An ebony-black blade of magic
formed at his command, and the lighting of the room seemed
to fade and dim for a moment.
"You can't make the incision with that!" One of the
mages protested, "This requires precision and..."
"I said silence. I will do this as I wish, and you
will not interfere." D'san focused his magic in another
spell, culled from ancient texts that dated before the
advent of man, a spell that gave him preternatural sight, a
sharpness of sense and motion that was inhuman. Not
trusting the magi to work without interfering with his
magic, he also began weaving the preservative spells
himself, uttering them harshly between clenched teeth as he
began to slice through the lion's flesh, which no longer
offered up even the slightest resistance. What little blood
was shed before the preservative spells took effect was
consumed by the blade itself, which seemed to give off an
evil sound, almost like the laughter of the damned. On
seeing this, one of the magi gasped in realization.
"A vampyric blade! D'san, this magic is forbidden! I
cannot stand here and let you do this!" Without a moment of
hesitation, without even deviating from the course of his
cutting, D'san lashed out with the blade, slicing the mage
in two before he could even begin to muster a defense. As
the blade sunk into the mage's flesh, time seemed to slow,
and his skin seemed to deflate as the sword drank him dry,
until only a skeletal-looking husk remained. All the while,
the sword's evil laughter grew louder, and if possible, more
terrible. D'san finished his final incisions and spells,
aided by the power the blade was now feeding him. He turned
to the other mages, who shrunk back from the terrible light
that blazed in his eyes.
"You saw none of this. Do you understand?" Both of
the remaining mages nodded. "Good." D'san, with a supreme
effort of will, cast away the sword and its power. There
lay the danger of such a magic, the unlimited, addictive
power it gave its user. And all it required in return was
blood sacrifice. Small wonder the magic was extremely
forbidden. The ancient spell he still held onto let him
read the mages' faces so well that he knew with certainty
that neither would ever tell of what had transpired. Having
confirmed this, he released the last spell, and through
another effort of sheer will, managed not to shake or fall
as the impact of his magic and its temptations struck him.
"Inform Shirak that we have finished, and the subject is
ready for the next stage. I will await his leisure in my
room." D'san actually did make it all the way to his room
before the tremors he was hiding finally overwhelmed him.
"D'san!" A voice intruded upon the darkness, a voice
distant, but insistant and familiar. "D'san, you fool, wake
up!" D'san did, and was rather sorry that he did so.
Shirak was standing above him, shaking him. "We need to
begin the next stage now. Unless you would rather I gave
that honor to some other mage?" D'san was quickly on his
feet.
"No, sir, I'm ready. I must have fallen asleep while
waiting."
"Well, you should have yourself checked out. You don't
look well, and I can't have you falling sick at this point
in the scheme of things." D'san, did, indeed, look
terrible, his face drawn and pale, looking almost anemic.
"I'll manage, sir. You can count on me."
"There's a good lad. Now, come along, we've got to
start the amalgamation process while the preservative spells
still hold. Mine will hold for a few days, but what with
the task mages working with you, we can't be certain of the
lion. We'll begin there, and then do the boy." D'san had
never seen the wizard in such high spirits, and the mood was
infectious, despite his exhaustion. Besides which, this was
the moment D'san had been waiting for. The amalgamation
magic was Shirak's best kept secret, and it was one of the
final elements D'san needed to learn to understand the
entire process.
"Sir, if you would show me what to do, we could devide
the labor again."
"Oh, there is no need for that, D'san, no need at all."
"But, sir..."
"I said no, D'san, do not make me repeat myself again."
"Yes, sir." D'san replied, keeping his tone carefully
neutral. 'Damn! It's as if he knows what I'm planning.'
That thought gave the aide a moment of terror, before he
realized that if the old man did know, he would have killed
D'san by now. D'san found that to be a distinctly odd sort
of comfort.
The amalgamations went smoothly, with D'san handling
all of the routine magic, which kept him busy enough that he
missed most of what Shirak did, which, D'san was beginning
to suspect, might have been the whole point. Again D'san
wondered if the wizard might know of his intentions, and
again he dismissed the worry as irrelevant. Once the
amalgamation was complete, the tissues were ready to be
joined, and for that, all the other magi were dismissed,
D'san included. D'san protested, of course, for the joining
was another process he wanted to learn, though not so badly
as the amalgamation process. After all, he'd seen it done
during Phase II, though that was hardly as ambitious and
complex as this would be. He was confident that, if need
be, he could decipher the joining on his own. His protests,
however, fell on deaf ears.
"This is past the point of magical process, boy."
Shirak said, a tone bordering on religious ecstacy in his
voice, "This is sheer art! I will not be disturbed from it,
not even by you. Now go!" And in the face of that, D'san
went, consoling himself with the knowledge that, even if he
did not learn the process this time, Shirak would have to
teach him eventually. After all, skilled though the wizard
was, he could hardly perform the vivisection and joining on
himself.
Alone with the two amalgamated, vivisectioned subjects,
Shirak began the joining. First, in his mind, he invisioned
the creature that would result, half man, half lion,
picturing how he would integrate each feature.
'The lion's tan fur... yes, that would be good... and the
prince's red hair... integrated into the mane, oh, yes that
is good. Very good, actually. The face... hmmm...
basically leonine, but perhaps soften the features... yes,
like that, bring the cheekbones in, and the eyes... use the
tissues from the lion for that, but perhaps... ah, yes, that
will solve the color problem. Hmm, not a bad shade of
amber, actually. Now, the limbs.. basically humanoid, of
course... but the fingers will be a slight challenge. Twice
as much tissue as I need, come to think of it, might as
well... yes, human fingers, remove the ends and amalgamate
with... retractable.... yes, that will be very good. Boy
should thank me for this... he was kind of puny, really, and
now... By the Ten, he's beautiful. And mine. My creation,
my genius displayed in living flesh. Hmmm... how to work
the teeth and digestive... well, best of both... probably
favoring carnivorous would be best... use as much of the
lion's muscle as possible... and now the brain...'
Shirak's hands began to weave the magic that would
start the joining, using the mental image as a guideline.
The two bodies seemed to melt and flow together under his
command, not quite seeming liquid, yet neither seeming
solid. The bones and flesh began to twist together, some
parts fusing, some being discarded altogether.
'Strange, so strange... The boy's tissues resist, try to
fight me every step of the way, but the lion's tissue...
like it's seeking the joining... wanting to be made whole...
wait, no, it's going too fast! The magic... NONE of the
tissues respond, they act of their own will now... it's as
though the lion's tissues are devouring those of the boy...
fascinating... I never imagined... wait... the brain! Oh,
by the Ten and all holiness, I never finished mapping out
the joining of the brain! I've got to try... no use...
won't respond at all... negating my magic, both tissues now,
but both look to be seeking union... is this the power I
sensed before? Can this be... Destiny?'
The process continued without his control, yet still
according to his purpose. The tissues began to take on the
shape of a single humanoid body, and as Shirak watched,
amazed, the body came to resemble the image in his mind,
almost exactly as he'd envisioned it, though slicked down
and coated with blood. Shirak looked on the creature with a
sense of wonder and astonishment that he'd not felt in all
his jaded life. 'Destiny,' He thought again, 'There can be no
other way. But the brain...' His musings were cut off as
the creature opened its eyes, and drew its first breath.
"How do you feel?" Shirak asked, hopeful of an
intelligable answer. The creature produced several grunts
and growls, much to the wizard's disappointment. Another
failure. Another mindless shell. 'No, I won't accept that!
Destiny cannot be denied!' "I ask again, how do you feel?"
The creature again responded with soft growls and
rumblings, but this time, it was almost recognizable as
words. "Hrrrrow... frr.. free... frreeel?" Understanding
dawned on Shirak.
"AH! You are trying to speak, but the speech center of
your brain is human-amalgam, while your vocal cords are
lion-amalgam as well as human-amalgam! No wonder you're
having trouble! Well, keep trying lad! I'm sure you can do
it." Shirak was positively bubbling over with glee. The
creature continued to try, but it had little success. Hard
consonants were nearly impossible, though rolling words were
almost right.
"Wharrrr arre ah?" It took Shirak a minute to
interpret the question.
"You are in my laboratory. What do you remember?"
"Rrrerrrerrerr??"
"Hmmm. Well, you'll need to be able to talk before I
can accurately judge your intelligence. Keep at it, my boy,
my child, keep at it, and I will return in a moment!"
Shirak burst out of the room, bowling over D'san, who was
standing at the door, looking suspiciously as though he'd
been listening.
"D'san! D'san!" Shirak called, and then looked down
and noticed his assistant on the floor, "D'san, there you
are! Get off the floor and come see what I've done! It's
perfect, and it's trying to speak! Imagine, D'san! It
could be the prince's mind, completely healed!" D'san,
however, was unable to share his mentor's joy.
He was too busy looking at the stars that had exploded
through his head when the door contacted with his nose.
"It was not to be, however." Basil told, "Upon
awakening, the creature had no personal memory at all. The
prince was lost forever, died giving birth to this strange
new being. The creature, whom Shirak named Unsai, meaning
"first", did learn to speak, though it was a long time
before the act of speech became comfortable or easy. The
creature had much of the prince's knowledge, though none of
his mind, and proved as intelligent as Shirak had hoped.
Shirak allowed himself the luxury of true hope for the first
time since learning of his affliction." The elf gave her
harp a final strum before draining her last mug. She made a
good show of packing the harp back in its case, expecting
that Gerok would complain at any minute. To her surprise,
it was another patron who spoke up.
"What, that's it? What about D'san? What was he
planning? What happened with the Phase II creatures? How
did Stormsinger.. or Unsai or Firemane or whatever he was
called... get to the Nine Realms? What.." Basil interupted
him, as she'd been planning to do all along.
"There are answers to those questions." She smiled.
"But that is another tale entirely, and it is far to late to
begin such an epic." A quick glance confirmed what she'd
already suspected. Gerok was on the floor, out cold, the
mug he'd been drinking from spilled beside him and its
contents seeping into his beard. Dwarves did usually have a
high tolerance for alcohol, but somehow Gerok managed to
drink enough to be carried home despite being so
handicapped.
"Closing time, people." Tenkai announced, "Somebody
take the dwarf with them on the way out. I have enough to
clean up already." Everyone rose to leave, and as Basil
stood there was a smattering of actual applause.
Considering the source, that was high praise, and Basil was
obliged to take a bow. As everyone slowly filed out, Tenkai
caught the elf's eye and motioned for her to remain where
she was. When the tavern was empty and the last patron had
left, Gerok slung over his shoulder like a very odiferous
sack of potatoes, Tenkai sat down next to her.
"That was a good story, and well told. And if I did
know any better, I'd swear you'd really never told it
before, but had to pull it together as you went along."
"It isn't a.."
"Sorry, tale, then. I didn't mean to offend you. In
fact, I was actually wondering if you were the type who'd be
interested in stable employment."
"You serious? Me, a regular employee?" Immediately
Basil got the unpleasant claustophobic feeling that came
with the idea of any sort of permanence in her life. Tenkai
noticed, and understood. She'd dealt with the type before.
"No, no, you misunderstand. I'm offering you a deal.
I know how you feel about being tied down, so right off I'll
say that you aren't obligated to me in any way. What I'm
suggesting is that we arrange a regular time when you can
come and be sure of a good audience."
"Why? I mean, I like the idea, but what's in it for
you?" Tenkai laughed.
"Good girl. Don't trust anyone, you'll go far. Look,
you may not have noticed, but everyone got so caught up in
your st.. tale that they didn't bother to keep track of
their tabs. They go so involved they lost track of time, so
they stayed longer, and drank more. Hells, I even had to
open the kitchen, people started ordering late dinners and
such. Besides, the way you ended that back there, everyone
will want to know when you'll tell the other half of the
tale. None of them will want to miss it, and I'd wager
they'll bring friends, too. You're a good bard, kid, you've
got a lot of talent, and the fact that you're pretty doesn't
hurt. How did you like the arrangement tonight?"
"I can't complain about the pay, and the drinks were
good, even if you did start watering them toward the end."
Tenkai made a small gesture of culpability.
"Sorry about that, it's just one of the tricks of
running this place. When it gets late and they don't know
if they're drinking wine or water, give them both. Saves
them the confusion, you see?" Tenkai laughed at her own
joke, and Basil joined in, out of courtesy. "I didn't mean
to water your wine, but I guess it's just a habit by now.
It won't happen again." Tenkai thought about it. "Well, at
least not so long as your working. If you're a customer,
you get what everyone else gets." Basil made a note of
that, and wondered if the other taverns in town had a
similer policy. "Well, kid, what do you say? Once a week,
same deal as tonight?" Basil was interested, but still
hesitant. It still set off warning alarms in her heart,
with feeling of being trapped and tied down.
"Can you give me some time to think about it?"
"Sure thing, kid. Just do me a favor, and don't tell
the other half of that tale until you give me an answer, all
right?"
"Sure, no problem. Mind if I take a room upstairs?"
"I happen to have one free. If, of course, you can
part with the coin for it?" Basil sighed. Deals or no,
there was still no such thing as a free lunch.
(
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