Ancient Prophecy (19 page)

Sarac gazed around and saw no living creatures, but the stench of decaying flesh got stronger as he headed towards the castle. The landscape was dark and the Black Devil realized that he did not have an idea of what time it was or how long he had been walking. He took a vial of fragrance from his pouch and inhaled deeply, trying to drive the putrid smell from his nostrils, but within moments the stench was back.

Sarac began seeing decaying ogres littering the ground and wondered out loud why they were dead instead of walking around like Lattimer had described.

“Their usefulness has ceased to amuse me,” boomed a dark, gravelly voice. “What kind of fool are you, magician?”

Sarac turned in a complete circle searching for the source of the voice, but all he could see were dead and mutilated ogres marching slowly towards him, their outstretched arms aiming to snare him. No matter which direction Sarac turned to flee, the decaying ogres were heading towards him, but still he could not find Alutar.

The ogres continued to close on Sarac and he realized that he did not have much time left, when the deep voice boomed again. “A fool on an errand who has no voice? Speak quickly, magician, or you will be today’s entertainment.”

Still, Sarac could not detect the direction of the speaker, but he shouted, anyway. “I have come to offer you freedom, Alutar.”

The mutilated ogres continued to advance as the voice of death laughed heartily. Just as the ogres were close enough to grab Sarac, he was lifted up into the air, suspended over the heads of the dead ogres who crashed into each other.

“Why didn’t you attack them, magician?” the demon questioned.

Sarac turned and saw Alutar sitting suspended over the ground as if on some unseen magic carpet. “To attack them would have been to supply you with sport,” the Black Devil answered. “I have come to offer you freedom, not entertainment.”

“So,” Alutar offered, “you thought I would save you to satisfy my own curiosity. Clever for a mortal, but I do not need your help. I have freedom already as you can see.”

“I think not,” declared Sarac. “You have escaped your imprisonment, but all you have to play with are some dead ogres. I doubt that you will find them amusing for long.”

“Then I shall play with your kind,” laughed Alutar. “Perhaps they will provide better amusement.”

“Ah,” retorted Sarac, “but that will not be possible without my help. I know the Mage took away your ability to sense the Junctions to other Universes.”

Alutar scowled and Sarac tumbled through the air to land in the middle of a bunch of ogres. The ogres turned to attack Sarac, but his ward kept them at bay.

“So, you cheated, magician,” grumbled the demon. “You had a ward all the time. It would seem that you are not to be trusted, but your ward cannot last forever and time is not important to me. I will wait to see you die.”

“Time may not seem important to you, demon,” chuckled Sarac, “but every day brings the Mage closer to you.”

“Do not take me for a fool, mortal,” scolded Alutar. “It was with the Mage’s dying breath that he imprisoned me and that was merely a stroke of luck on his part.”

“Not true,” Sarac bluffed. “The Mage still wanders the Universes doing his good deeds while you sit and play with dead ogres.”

Alutar tilted his head and considered the puny human for a moment and then pointed his finger at the Black Devil. A brilliant flash of lightening erupted from the demon’s finger and hurtled downward to explode in a blinding display of light and smoke. Sarac winced as he looked around at the waterfall of blood and ogre body parts showering to the ground around him.

“Go, human,” Alutar roared. “I tire of playing with you. Leave my Universe or you shall die.”

Sarac laughed loudly. “Nice try, Alutar. Do you really think that I will just lead you to the next Universe? No, demon, I have come to inherit my rightful place in the prophecy that is unfolding.”

“I know nothing of this prophecy, magician,” stated Alutar, “and I grow tired of dealing with you.”

“Of course you know nothing of the prophecy,” declared the human. “The Mage has had you locked up for too long. The ancient prophecy states that when certain conditions occur, you will be freed. I have set the conditions leading up to your freedom, but there are several that I will need your help on. The prophecy states that you will send forth a powerful magician before you to destroy the Universes and return you to power. I am to be that powerful magician. I have already disposed of all the kings of the lands, but you are to endow me with greater powers.”

Sarac could see that he had Alutar’s attention now. The Black Devil did not know if the Mage still existed, but it was clear that neither did Alutar know and the demon’s one weak spot was his desire for revenge on the Mage.

“What powers do you seek?” queried the evil demon.

“Several,” demanded Sarac. “First, I want eternal life, so you will not dispose of me once I secure your return. I also like your ability to bring warriors back from the dead.” Almost as an afterthought, Sarac added, “The black cloud could also be useful. How does it work?”

“You are a presumptuous fool, magician,” Alutar laughed. “The cloud is mostly useful for fear. It stifles plant growth and is very acidic, but it is nothing special. As far as Revenants go, I can give you the power to have select individuals come back to life, but their usefulness depends upon the original stock used. As you can see, these ogres are not worth using, but ones like the first magician to see me, they would be valuable.”

Sarac thought of the description of Wasar’s death and understood what Alutar was saying. The reborn ogres were slow and easily avoided, but if his Black Devils could be brought back to life they would be weapons of torment. The cloud would keep the people under control, an ever-present reminder of who controlled their destiny, not to mention the fact that it would keep life miserable for the masses.

“Immortality,” continued Alutar, “I cannot give you, but it pleases me that you ask. You show the proper amount of fear and respect and your asking shows me that you do intend to bring me back, after all. If you did not, you would have no need of protection from me.”

“What do you mean, you cannot give me immortality?” exclaimed Sarac. “The prophecy states that I will rule for a thousand years or until some condition is met, which I plan to avoid.”

“That is not a problem,” chuckled Alutar. “You did not ask for a thousand years, you asked for immortality. I have been imprisoned for longer than a thousand years and it seems like nothing to me.”

“So,” offered Sarac, “everything is agreeable then?”

“I have no problem with your requests,” stated the demon, “but I warn you. Trick me or deceive me and I will give you a thousand years of torturous death. For a thousand years you will scream in agony with every breath and I will deny you death until the term is completed.”

“Fair enough,” Sarac stated quickly so that Alutar would not detect a moment’s hesitation. “There is one other condition, though. You have guarantees that I will not deceive you, but I have none that you will do likewise. The last condition is that after you have given me what I need, you will withdraw into your old Universe and take your cloud with you. Only then can I be assured that you are not trying to trick me into showing you the entrance to my Universe.”

Alutar laughed. “If your skills were not so puny and feeble, you would make an admirable adversary. Your terms are acceptable, only if I am to be released within a year. If you require more time than that, I will not bargain with you.”

“A year is fair and acceptable,” conceded Sarac. He still had to get his hands on the Book of the Beginning, but at least he had an idea of how it could be found. It would not be as difficult a search as the Origin Scroll had been.

Alutar cast a spell and the black cloud began to dissipate. Sarac drew large breaths of air into his lungs in an attempt to expunge the acidic residue from the black cloud. With the coming sunlight, Sarac could more clearly see the blight of the land. While Lattimer had been wrong about the cloud causing death, the plant life had withered and wilted under the opaque darkness.

Sarac still had to contend with the smell of decay, which not only emanated from the dead ogres, but also seemed to linger like an aura around Alutar.

Alutar and Sarac spent several days getting the Black Devil prepared to venture forth as the Dark One, before Alutar reluctantly retreated into his Universe prison to await the destruction of the Universes.

Sarac walked back to the Junction happily blasting ogres with Fireballs along the way. Just before he reached the Junction, he came across the ogre that had deserted Lattimer.

“Where have you been?” Sarac demanded.

“Lattimer was going the wrong way, Lord”, the ogre grunted. “I only left him to find the way to the stone tower myself.”

“I have told the ogres many times,” scolded Sarac, “that my word is to be obeyed without thinking. You have disobeyed and your actions could have brought dreadful harm to my plans. I want you to dwell on this while you die.”

Sarac smiled as he watched the fear etch into the ogre’s face. The fear was followed by hatred and the ogre charged Sarac hoping to catch him off guard. Sarac tossed a Freeze Ball at the ogre and laughed at the contorted image of the ice statue. He panted from exertion as he dragged the body over to a tree and leaned it against the trunk. Sarac ripped the shreds of clothing off the ogre and used the cloth to bind the creature to the tree.

Sarac sat and watched as mutant ogres started to wander over to investigate. The errant ogre started to thaw and saw the hideous creatures that used to be his kin approaching. He let out a wail of despair as they noticed him and started to approach his tree. Sarac sat and watched the pathetic ogre being devoured by his long dead brothers. When the group had destroyed the deviant ogre, Sarac burned the entire group with fireballs and continued his journey.

Sarac crossed through the Junction to find his ogre and cart waiting. The ogre seemed relieved that he would not die waiting for his master to return. Sarac seated himself in the cart and the ogre took him back to the warehouse. Sarac entered his office and called for Lattimer.

“Sarac,” exclaimed Lattimer, “I am so glad to see you back. Is Alutar still there or has he traveled elsewhere?”

“Where else can he go?” laughed Sarac. “Actually, I sent him back to his prison. I have bargained well, Lattimer. You may now officially call me the Dark One.”

“You have gotten Alutar’s acceptance?” asked Lattimer incredulously.

“Indeed I have,” boasted Sarac. “He taught me new spells of great power and has given me one year to accomplish my goal. The Dark One will reign for a thousand years.”

“What are these new spells?” quizzed Lattimer.

“Find me a Black Devil who wishes to be immortal and does not mind dying to obtain his status,” ordered Sarac. “I wish to try my new spell and create a Revenant.”

“Do you mean like the ogres were?” queried Lattimer.

“No,” answered Sarac. “The ogres were poor stock for that spell, but they were all that was available to Alutar.”

Sarac followed Lattimer out of the warehouse and called his men to gather around. He explained to them his new status and proposed his experiment. One individual immediately stepped forward to volunteer and Sarac cast a spell upon him.

Sarac walked back into the warehouse and came out with a sword. While the group of Black Devils looked on, Sarac thrust the sword into the volunteer’s heart. The Black Devil fell to the ground bleeding and the crowd murmured.

After just a few moments the deceased Black Devil rolled over and pushed himself off the ground. He rose to a standing position and faced Sarac.

“Your will, Master?” the Revenant asked.

Sarac gazed at his creation. The Revenant appeared normal except for his eyes, which were monotone white orbs that gave him an eerie appearance. Sarac pierced the Revenant again and once more the deceased Black Devil stumbled and fell to the ground. And once again he rose back up.

“The only true death of a Revenant,” lectured Sarac, “is removal of his head or the death of his Master. This concludes the demonstration. I must have dinner now but afterwards you are all summoned back here to receive the spell so that you will be better equipped to serve me.”

Sarac smiled as he mounted the stairs in the tower and passed through the Junction into the Dusty Trail Inn. He was in a jovial mood as he went downstairs and ordered a large dinner. Only then did he realize that he had not eaten in three days but, then, some things are more important than food to the Dark One. After all, he was guaranteed that he would not die of hunger, at least for a thousand years.

John Secor was in the back room of his shop having a bit of tea when the bell from the front door sounded. John rose and set his cup on the table and moved to the black curtains that divided the two rooms. John reflected on earlier times when he would have just walked into the showroom, rather than lurk behind the curtain to see who was entering. The memory of the three Black Devils who had come to kill him here at his shop still lingered painfully.

John peered through the gap in the curtains and saw his son-in-law. Brushing aside the curtains, John rushed into the showroom and embraced the Targan Prince.

“Oscar, you old sea dog,” greeted the painter. “How good is it to see you. How are my Callie and the baby?”

Prince Oscar returned the embrace and smiled broadly. “They are fine, John. They are both in much better shape than they were at your last visit. You must come down and visit again. I know Callie would love to see you soon.”

John broke the embrace and guided Oscar into the back room. “Tea?” he asked.

“Thanks,” answered Oscar absentmindedly. “John, we are fast approaching troubled times again. Truthfully, I have come at the request of King Byron. We need for you to talk with General Fernandez about Mitchel.”

“You mean President Mitchel,” corrected John. “I still can’t believe President Suarez was voted out of office. He was a good man, Oscar.”