Wielder of the Flame (15 page)

As the floating room was nearing the large tower of Tremos’s
chambers, near the gigantic dome, Omech saw his Emperor flinch slightly and the
young apprentice perceived the magical mind bond that had suddenly come upon
Sklan. Omech would have pushed his ability to sense and read types of magic and
thus discover with whom Sklan was talking to and about what, but the younger
grahk sorcerer felt the presence of a great and unimaginable power, something
far beyond his capacities and knew immediately with whom Sklan was receiving a
mind bond, Tremos, the Great Dark Lord himself. Omech quickly withdrew his
sensing powers, afraid to somehow with his probing, offend the Overlord. The
young apprentice sat absolutely silent, watching Sklan.

After another moment Sklan returned to normal, the magical
connection having ended, and looked at his apprentice.

“Will I have to see the Great On—” Omech began but Sklan cut
him off.

“No,” Sklan responded.

The hovering compartment stopped suddenly in front of their
destination and the doors slid open, revealing a set of large black metal doors
engraved with grotesque figures and symbols, and a small landing. A tiny ramp
slid out, connecting the small suspended room with the landing.

“You are about to be a direct power channel between the Great
One and the Crystal inside the great dome. You are to conduct it and maintain
it blindly, wearing this,”

Sklan pulled out the two Ritual Glory Masks from beneath his
robes, and handed one to his apprentice.

“Maintenance of the channel will be taxing on your energy,
maybe even to your death unless you prove yourself strong enough. Do not fail,
but show that you are worthy of the Krulljo family name. Adorn your mask.”

Omech complied with his master’s command, placing the cold
metal over his face and his world was suddenly shrouded in complete darkness.
Omech had worn Ritual Glory Masks before and was used to the temporary
blindness. After a couple of seconds the magic in the mask began to work and
Omech began to see indefinable shapes and figures come into view in front of
him. It was as if Omech was seeing through a foggy looking glass or a sheet of
rippling water. This of course, however, was the function of the mask, so when
Omech entered the presence of the Overlord he would not be suddenly and
instantly incinerated by looking directly upon the Great Dark Lord.

“Follow me,” Sklan commanded Omech, the Luminary appeared as
but a floating dark shape through the mask, “And begin the first end of the
channel with the Crystal. You will feel when we enter the presence of the
Overlord. When we do so, connect the channel from the crystal to him and simply
endure the pain. Now begin!”

With only the smallest part of his attention focused on Sklan
and following his dark shape through the doors into the Overlord’s Chambers,
down strange indefinable hallways and in the direction of Tremos in general,
Omech began the spell he had been commanded to perform and sent his magic
forth, seeking the Crystal.

Unable to be stopped by walls or other tangible objects,
Omech’s magic flew through the air, passing through the walls of the corridor
to exit to the other side, soaring high above the city below. It was like an
extension of the Grahk apprentice. He could sense, feel, hear and see the
things his magic could. He was stretching away from himself, past towers and
bridges, in search of the crystal.

It was not hard to find for two reasons. One, Omech already
knew where it was, and two, the aura permeating from the crystal was greater
than that of any other thing or creature animate or inanimate as far as Omech’s
magic could sense. The crystal was ancient. It was said to have existed even
before the world was. Legend described the crystal as the heart and source of
all magic.

With practically no time at all Omech encountered the
massive pulsing aura of the crystal and he began constructing a channel from it
to him in his mind, repeating the needed words to form the necessary spell. The
moment the channel was open Omech could feel the power from the crystal rush
towards him until it hit him like a wave and began to fill him with energy such
as he had never felt before. Immediately he began to form another open ended
channel. With the power from the crystal now pumping through him, forming the
other end of the spell came with ease, like doing something as mundane as
walking, or sitting down. Creating and completing a power channel was only
completed with at least some difficulty, especially blind.

It felt amazing, it was marvelous, it was the raw power of
the crystal.

Omech did not have much time, however, to enjoy it. The
murky shape in front of him, which was Sklan, opened what appeared to be two
huge black doors and another great power filled Omech’s senses. It was the
Overlord, Tremos.

  Through the foggy screen of the mask over Omech’s face, he
could only make out vague shapes. He saw what appeared to be a throne room with
tall pillars on each side leading to a large throne in the center. Behind the
chair stood a gigantic monstrous black dragon-like beast around which an
equally black smoke curled and wisped. Upon the throne sat a black armored
figure that seemed to be slumped in the large chair, Tremos.

 The moment Sklan and Omech entered the great hall the Overlord
sat up and extended a gauntleted open palm towards the grahk apprentice. Omech
instantly felt the open end of the channel he had created snatched up by an
invisible powerful force as Tremos connected the spell to himself.

Power surged through the young grahk mage at terrifying
speeds and levels, like a thunderous waterfall, pounding, surging, overcoming.
Omech felt immense pain and unbelievable ecstasy at the same time. He felt
powerful beyond imagining and also wracked with incredible torment. He felt
alive and yet dying, he felt all sorts of things beyond his previous ability to
comprehend. 

Omech did not understand at first why he had been chosen to
accompany Sklan to Tremos’s chambers and why he had to cast a blind power
channel between the crystal and the Overlord. The Great Dark Lord could do so
himself without even so much as a thought, as easily as lifting his finger or
turning his head. But the grahk apprentice understood when the spell linked the
three of them together. For though Tremos’s aura of magic was greater than
Omech had ever seen, second only to the crystal, Omech knew that the Overlord,
at least at that moment, was weak, wounded, and close to death.

The Overlord weak? Wounded? The very thoughts were blasphemy
and when they entered into Omech’s mind he denied them, covered them, burying
them deep into the furthest corner of his psyche, surrounding them with walls
and locking them away.

  Had the Overlord heard his thoughts? For Tremos could
certainly read minds. Did the Great Dark Lord know that Omech knew Tremos was
weak? Had been hurt? Omech did not know but he did not want to die for thinking
such things. Tremos was invincible, unbreakable, unsurpassable. Omech let
himself get lost in the wave of the energy and pain of the channel and thought
no more. Omech could feel the Overlord’s power grow and strengthen as the
crystal’s energy poured into Tremos. The grahk sorcerer could feel a change
coming over him as the magic rushed through the channel. It was as if at the
beginning of the transfer Tremos had been far away and as the energy continued
to pulse The Great Dark Lord drew nearer and this was somehow affecting Omech.
Darkness began to take over Omech’s already cloudy vision and finally he
thought he could take no more. At the point he felt he was going to die he let
out a scream, a bellow of agony that came from the depths of his very soul.

And then it ended. The spell dissipated instantaneously and
Omech found himself kneeling on all fours, shivering on the throne room floor.
His ritual glory mask lay broken in half in front of him and he could feel that
his robes now had innumerous holes and rips in them. Black wispy fog, the same
that surrounded the dragon like beast behind the throne, now curled around
Omech as well.

The grahk mage felt different, changed somehow, and then he
realized that his hand had five fingers each and no webbing. His skin looked
human, retaining little to none of his previous grahk appearance. What had
happened to him?

“Yes Omech,” The Destroyer spoke, his voice boomed like
thunder, filled with power and might.

Omech dared not look up for his mask was destroyed, broken
upon the dark granite in front of him.

“Fear be driven from you!” Tremos commanded, “For you now
are alike, as unto I. Arise! And behold your Master!”

Without question Omech stood and looked up at the Overlord.
Tremos was not dressed in his usual armor but was adorned instead in his
glorious chalta robes hood and mantel. Instead of his helmet he wore a mask the
color of bone hiding everything but his unholy eyes of fire. The black fog
danced wildly around and through the Great Dark Lord and pure energy glowed
around him. He stood regally in front of the throne. The giant dark beast
behind him breathed heavily, moving its massive head from side to side. Sklan
stood off to the side a bit, his head bowed and face still covered by a ritual
glory mask, black red-jeweled staff in hand.

Omech could not see all the changes that had overcome him
but he would see for himself later that not only his hands but everything about
him, including his face, had been altered. He was no longer a grahk, and yet
not quite human either. He had all the normal features of a human face, nose
instead of a snout, but he had the sharp fangs of a grahk. And the dark mist
swirling around him, a part of Tremos, it was now a part of Omech, and he would
never be the same. Omech did not have much time to ponder as the Great Dark
Lord spoke to Sklan.

“Sklan,” upon hearing the Master’s call the grahk emperor
stepped forward, “I have an assignment for you and the other Luminaries. Omech
here will accompany you wherever you go now. From this moment on he retains the
rank of one step less than a Luminary, treat him as such. He will be my eyes
and my ears. Where you will go, you will go in silence, unseen through the
shadows. Our existence to those beyond the Black Peaks remains the thing of
stories and rumors and that is how I wish it to be. The time for full scale war
has not yet come. I will not tolerate disturbances that could erupt into war at
this time, do you understand?”

“Yes Master,” Sklan replied.

“I will tell you more of your assignment when I so desire
it. I wish the Dome to myself for a time, order the gnomes and anyone else
there to leave until I command otherwise. Then go and proclaim my arrival.
Tonight I appear to my people! I have returned! Now go!”

The Luminary and his now changed apprentice, Omech, turned
at the command and left immediately closing the large black throne room doors
behind them.

Just moments after the doors closed
Tremos fell to his knees, one black glove on the ground and the other clutching
his chest, pulling the black robes tightly together.

“No!” his voice bellowed, echoing off the dark granite
walls, “No! No! No!”

He banged his fist into the black marble floor in his fury.
The marble cracked and chipped against his powerful force. He stopped and
turned to the large monster behind the throne.

Tremos thought silently, brooding in his dark mind. Before
the destructive energy and pain overpowered him, he saw what had been in the
box, he saw the orbs as they exploded one by one, the magic within them being
forcefully released.

He assumed the box to have held the map, and had not meant
to destroy it in his attack.

The old wizard had been too easy to overcome. He had
overpowered his magical strike by too much.

Why had the old wizard been carrying so many orbs with him?
Tremos was familiar with the orbs and their function. The Unseen Paths, a
difficult and mysterious school of magic. Once, in days long past, he had
needed the orbs to walk them, but no longer. To the Ascendant Sages, however,
they were necessary tools. None of them had ever mastered the ability
themselves and had become reliant on the orbs for travel through the silvery
plane.

The shattered orbs’ unprepared and uncontrolled power had wreaked
havoc on his attempts to return to his fortress, warping and bending the
fabrics of his ethereal travel such as never before. That, paired with his wounds,
had forced him to wander the unseen paths like a lost and wounded dog,
incapable of much else besides putting one foot in front of the other.

Finally he had returned.

Tremos shook his head, warding off the pain that was already
seeping back into his body.

It was obvious the old man had intended to bring the orbs
with him. Which could only mean he had not wanted Tremos to have them.

Why? Why could he not let the orbs fall into my hands?

Tremos tried to think further but the pain was too strong
and he clutched at his chest, where it hurt most.
 

“My pet,” He said, “It will take more time than I thought to
heal this cursed wound.”

He rested for a while on his knees and then stood again once
he found the energy.

“Come, my pet, I have enough energy to reach the crystal on
my own now at least. There we can rest, heal and be again like we were. And
then when we are ready once more, we can continue with our plans.”

Suddenly the gigantic beast behind the throne disappeared,
transforming into the black fog around it and the dark smoke rushed towards
Tremos. The Overlord absorbed all the dark smoke until he was the only one
present in the grand throne hall. When the transfer was complete Tremos
straightened and walked to the black doors. He opened them with a wave of his
hands and walked out of the room. Down a few halls, past some rooms, he reached
the floating chambers. He stepped into a certain one and activated the orb in
its center with another wave of his arm. The hum of the flying compartment as
it moved to its destination was soothing and Tremos closed his fiery eyes,