Lost Lamb Page 10

  “Stop!” I commanded the demon.

  “You have no power over me,” the voice returned, “Just as it was I who summoned you, so did I bind you.”

  That was impossible, mortals couldn't be bound in the same manner as spirits. We were blood and flesh before spirit. Only by committing ourselves to a geas could we be bound and I sure as hell hadn't done something that dumb. Yet there I was, unable to move and seemingly bound.

  I blocked out the noise of the battle and tried to think of how things went so wrong.

  I'd done the ritual of summoning a number of times before – practicing so that nothing would go wrong. Each time had been successful with me having a greater command of the spirit. I focused on the memories, trying to recall anything about the spirit. What questions had I asked it? What did it look like? When did I summon it?

  A sickening feeling came over me as I realized I couldn't recall any of those facts. It seemed to me there was a block of memory – vague misinformation that only now I was noticing. My mind had been messed with.

  Where had I even gotten the notion of doing a summoning?

  My memories told me that I stumbled across the name of a spirit in the tome of Theron's previous apprentice. Not Gerald, but an older one from nearly a hundred years earlier. I'd often looked over the notes my master had inherited from those who passed on. Within one was that name Almushil and the instructions to summon a simple knowledge spirit.

  Was that a true memory or just a fabrication? If the demon had been in my mind, all memories had to be suspect.

  There wasn't much time to contemplate the issue as I was knocked back by a sudden beam of light that materialized in front of me.

  It shimmered for a moment then faded into the shape of man. He looked to be truly ancient with wrinkly skin, liver spots, and a beard that would make Merlin jealous – a regal white. A shake of his hand and I felt a power rip into the inky monster and, unlike all previous attacks, this one managed to send a hole through it. A hole that quickly closed up, but I'd take any sign of hope that I could find.

  “Elder of elders, I bid thee welcome,” the demon spoke clearly into my mind, though I knew it was aimed at the man who'd just arrived, “Surrender yourself , your students, and I will show you power beyond the frailness of your mortal coil.”

  The newly arrived man declined.

  “You are unwelcome here, lord of change, I shall permit you a chance to retire from the field. Leave now and I will not render you to the void.”

  “You think yourself capable?” the voice asked as though genuine curious, “Old but not wise, a failing of your kind. Wielding such power but against the inevitable instead of working that which will happen regardless. All life on this rock will perish but you need not as well. I can teach you magelings transcendence. Then you will be worthy of the power of creation.”

  “Almushil!” the man yelled the name and with it a challenge, “I command you to be away from this place and to never return!”

  White lightning shot from the old man's hand, shattering the darkness in a dozen different places. One of those strikes landed on Natasha's barrier and freed the Third Blade from her shell. She wasted no time in unleashed her own power and adding it to the assault. She blinked out of existence for a moment, teleporting to another tendril and slicing upon it with her longsword. Amazingly her sword managed to cut through the ink and sever part of it onto the ground. There it evaporated. Natasha then disappeared again and struck once more.

  A hand came down on my shoulder and soon I found myself being lifted into the air and carried off into the stands. When I was place down I was surprised to find a familiar face, “Gerald.”

  My childhood friend grabbed me tightly by the collar of my jacket, lifting me up, “What did you do?”

  “I-I don't know,” if there was anything I could have said to help I would, “I did the spell before, there was nothing like this. I swear it. Gods, I can't even move. That thing- it's in my head...It won't let me do anything but watch.”

  Gerald scowled but I saw something flicker in his eyes, he believed me. Not that it was going to help him or anyone else. Ignorance or not, I'd summoned something of incredible power into the elder's fortress. I already knew that I was going to die for this, one way or another. Gerald looked as though he was about to speak but Theron jumped into cover with us, interrupting his train of thought.

  My master looked worse than I remembered. His face was pale white and a good deal of blood was leaking from his stomach. He didn't seem to mind and turned to us as though this was just another day in the lab.

  “Gerald, you're with me,” he eyed me, a hint of sorrow in his features, “Catherine...this isn't your fault.”

  “The hell it isn't!” Gerald shouted.

  “It's alright,” I managed to say, “I know its my fault...I should have known something was wrong.”

  “Gerald, shut your trap,” he placed his hand on my shoulder, I couldn't feel the touch, “This is not your fault. Almushil is an old enemy. He operates in ways that you haven't been taught about, changing thoughts and memories as easily as you or I walk. He's been manipulating this moment for a thousand years and your just the last stone to fall into place. Trust me, there was nothing you could have done to stop him.”

  He forced a smile, “That's our job.”

  A moment later and they jumped over the railing, back onto the dais to face the demon.

  From my position on the ground I could not see the battle, I could hear it. A choir of screams seemed to raise up every few moment to be followed be a still silence. Death had found those who screamed, the silence that followed confirmed my thoughts. I wanted to scream with them or do anything besides sit on the ground and wait. I needed to help them, to join Theron and Gerald. The thought that I would be responsible for their deaths haunted me in that moment.

  “You wish to fight. I shall grant you that wish,” I shuddered at the demon's voice, knowing it had nothing good in mind, "You cannot kill me. Submit. Submit as you've done before.”

  The voice became a sort of white noise. Constantly whispering thoughts as I laid waiting for the result of the battle. It told me much. Or rather, it unlocked those memories that had been sealed away. I could see myself foolishly summoning Almushil in my apartment. There it entered in a lesser form, that of a small shadow. Coiled in smoke, it rose up and blocked all light from the room. I ran trying to flee from the monstrosity I had foolishly summoned.

  It leap upon me and destroyed me.

  Every muscle was violated and every thought turned upon itself as I hung, suspended in the air and was tormented by the most vile creation. It had taken an hour before I'd given into the demon. I couldn't stand the pain nor what it told me. I begged it to stop, swore myself to service and was spared from further torment.

  It turned me into a sleeper agent and taught me dark secrets for the entire month. Blood rites, sacrifices to the forgotten gods, and all sorts of debased practices that even the elders wouldn't touch. It was all I could not to go into a comatose state as that part of my mind was reveled to me – an entire month with a demon that had been hidden away and concealed.

  The worst of it was, upon learning all of this, I reverted to the servant form. The pain flooded back, the tortures and torment, the demon promised they'd return unless I obeyed. If I didn't do as it commanded I'd once more be stripped naked in the darkness and have every nerve of my body flayed until I broke.

  My master and Gerald, they were nothing before that pain. Just mere humans against suffering the Almushil could make last eternity. I would gladly kill them for mercy

  “Prove your place,” Almushil whispered, the slightest hint of pride in its voice.

  The pressure holding me down vanished.

  A flex of my hand confirmed that I was able to move on my own free will, what was left of it anyway.

  Almushil had stripped all the warmth from my memories and left only the ugliness. That was how corruption worked, pain made one susce
ptible to one's torturer. Spend a month in a desert and you'll be thankful to drink piss. It makes you believe anything that was said. Almushil was merciful and Theron a fool – no longer a mentor but a manipulator. The demon told me that the elders were my enemies and I accepted his word.

  I needed to kill them now. Only in serving Almushil could I find salvation.

  A quick exertion of will allowed me to summon my staff to my hands. The cold metallic feeling gave me comfort. It was like me, a tool to kill. Perhaps it was my only friend. It would certainly stand by me no matter what happened and that was enough for me.

  “Kill,” a voice whispered to me, “Show them the frailty of their mortal bonds. Show them and transcend that same weakness.”

  Strength surged through my body as the demonic entity granted me its knowledge of magic. Arcane power flowed into my, tenfold of anything I'd ever felt before. The rush of raw power was simply orgasmic, a pleasure of the soul that couldn't be equated to any touch or kiss.

  The demon unlocked more hidden memories, rituals and spells that had been taught to me weeks prior. They were the sorts that I would have never touched on my own – dark magic that required great sacrifice.

  I knew them all, I had done them all.

  A memory of me slitting a mortals throat, to empower some sacrificial right, burned itself into my mind. The dead look in his face as I licked the blood from his throat. The taste, it was good. A flood of more hidden memories came. Blood, sex and murder all ran together into a singular thought.

  Power, at any cost.

  I craved more.

  When at last I strolled out and onto the dais, I had been reborn. No warmth remained in my mind, just a cold hatred that burned towards those who had sought to control me. The elders, an organization that tried to consolidate arcane power for their own use. I had just been a cog to them, a child denied the love of parent so that I might be molded to their use. It was all so clear to me then that I didn't doubt my actions for a moment.

  My staff became leveled at the nearest man to me, Gerald. He was holding a large barrier outward in the direction of the demon. Under it Theron and two others were working some sort of ritual. With a simple spell I shattered black ice onto Gerald's back and sent him skidding across the ground. The barrier fell.

  “What th- Catherine, what are you doing?” Theron remained sat with his legs crossed as he tried to continue the ritual while confronting me.

  I laughed, a sound that resonates through my nightmares, “Killing you.”

  “Helmram!” a fierce gout of fire leapt from Gerald's staff.

  Fire graced my skin, burning it to a crisp but just as quickly my flesh was regenerating. I didn't need a ward. My body was beyond the frailness of death.

  “Must you always interrupt me Gerald? Do you not realize how pointless it is for you to try?” I showed him my teeth with a wicked smile, “You were his least favorite you know, Theron practically kicked you out on the streets when he realized my potential. But you tried. So hard. Does it not hurt then to know that you were still discarded. That all your efforts meant nothing to him”

  “Catherine,” Theron said in a growl, “This isn't you. That thing is in your head child! You must fight it.”

  Once more I laughed, “Does that make you angry? Why I wonder, are you jealous? You spent how many years attempting to bend me to your will and Almushil did it in but a few hours. It must be embarrassing, to know how it corrupted me. Should I tell you the details?”

  “Stop gloating,” a voice whispered into my mind, “Kill them! The ritual must be stopped!”

  I gripped my head and stumbled slightly with the force of its command.

  A force fell upon my in my mind. An assault by the demon who tried to snag control of my power away from me. Almushil had attempted to take full control once again, but I'd managed to repel it on an instinctive level. That knowledge he had given me, forbidden and dark though it might have been, made me strong enough to hold him at bay. Not enough to fully throw off its influence, I was still trying to do that to this day, but enough to retain control of my actions.

  Something snapped then. My deranged mind made the insane connection that I'd been able to disobey him. I was stronger. The foolish demon had given me power. No longer was I a meek slave, but a servant who had a chance to strike the master. I no longer feared the torture he promised because I no longer believed him capable of delivering on that threat.

  “Silence! You do not command me, scum of the abyss!” I felt the presence in my mind recoil at being commanded.

  It hadn't expected that.

  “You think yourself better than them? You're just another seeking to use me. Haha, you gave me such power and I will wield it to destroy those who seek to cage me. Perhaps your foolish mind has figured out that I will kill you as well, Almushil.”

  Turns out, when I go insane, I go fully off the deep end. No men, no demons, only Vane.

  My staff whirled about and ended up being aimed at the inky mass which was lessened in form. The wizards had pelted away at it for some time.The demon was weak. That was why it had called upon me and unlocked those memories of power. Almushil had underestimated the strength of the elders and was on the verge of being pushed back to the abyss.

  Almushil needed help. My help. In that desperation he showed me his weakness. Those same dark spells he sought to have me weave upon the elders would be turned on him.

  A beam of dark energy impacted across its shadowy form, dismissing part of it.

  “I have no masters! Not anymore!” I shouted and fired off another blast of entropy.

  “So be it,” the demon said.

  Dark tendril sweep towards me but diverted at the last moment.

  They swept past me and grabbed hold of Theron. My old master continued the ritual even as he was dragged across the ground. Only when the tendril slammed him down did I even realize the meaning of Almushil's words. I had a master no more.

  Theron split upon the ground. A detached hand went by my face and all I could do was watch. Theron had been reduced into a red pulp.

  Something stirred within the corner of my minds,that part which Almushil had suppressed – Sanity.

  It was there only for a moment but it showed me what I had forgotten – the good that had been stripped away from my mind. Theron and Gerald were never my enemies. They had ensured I was safe and then fought the monster I created. They were defending me.

  Nothing hit me but still I fell. The ground was surprising warm, fresh blood was like that, and there was plenty of it. Blood of good men and women who'd died because of what I did.

  “No masters,” I heard a clicking sound that might have been a laugh, “Happy to oblige you my concubine.”

  Part of me felt rage at his comment but I didn't rise to continue the fight. My mind was too conflicted to decide on any action. Part wanted to kill the elders, another the demon, and the largest segment told me to run. They all equaled out into a mindless noise as I laid on the ground. Only my eyes moved, just enough to be transfixed on Theron's bloody mess.

  The battle raged on about me. Wizards fought the demon with everything they had. White lighting continued to rain down upon it but it was the ritual that ended its reign of chaos.

  Theron and his companions had been channeling a banishment. They called upon the holy forces of the high heavens to intervene and dismiss Almushil from the mortal realm.

  It all happened in a single flash of light. For a moment I felt a great presence, a warmth that reminded me that there was still hope for all things. An angel, or something of the sort. Almushil recoiled both in form and from my mind. The light purged it.

  There was a great stillness as the two beings left and the cries of the wounded took hold. I just looked upon Theron and struggled to contain fits of laughter that were bubbling in my throat – insanity threatening to regain control at the slightest whim. I knew it would in time, that I had lost everything a normal person should have. Restraint, mercy and a healthy
desire for self preservation. In that moment, I'd lost it. I'd kill and laugh at the bright colors.

  Eventually I felt a blade press against the back of my neck. It was joined by a voice, that of Natasha, “I'm sorry.”

  The blade lifted and I expect to join my master, “Stop that Natasha. There has been enough bloodshed for one day.”

  We both turned to see the greybeard walking towards us, the one who's white lightning had given paused to the demon.

  Natasha grimaced, “She summoned a demon. Our laws are quite clear on the matter.”

  “No she did not,” he knelt down next to me, offered a sad sort of smile. I laughed and rolled on my stomach, “Look into her mind. It's not been her own for some time.”

  The blonde hesitated, “I...this is different.”

  “When a wizard alters the mind of someone, bends them to their will, we do not blame whomever was possessed, do we? She's as much a victim as anyone else...perhaps more so,” he put his hand upon my head, “Rest now child. You will need your strength for what is to come.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Skitter had about a thousand more questions for me once I'd finished my part of the deal. I declined an answer. He'd asked me about the demon and I told him all I knew. My debt was paid.

  The elders had forbidden me from even thinking about the demon. It was an impossible task but I understood their reasoning. Demons were thought and spirit, notions that were infectious by their very nature. Just knowing that one truly existed would give it power, potentially over the seeker of such knowledge. I didn't read up on the demon, nor try and learn about how it had come to take over my mind. I surrendered to the wisdom of my elders, knowing that I was far too stupid to make an informed decision myself.