Read Spirit Past (Book 8) Online
Authors: Jeff Inlo
Spirit Past (Book 8)
Delver Magic
Book VIII
Spirit Past
Jeff Inlo
All rights Reserved.
120140326
I have tried to make this eBook available in as many formats as possible. If you encounter any difficulty with the formatting, please let me know. Contact information can be found on my web site at
www.sitelane.com
.
By Jeff Inlo
Fantasy:
Delver Magic Book I – Sanctum’s Breach
Delver Magic Book II – Throne of Vengeance
Delver Magic Book III – Balance of Fate
Delver Magic Book IV – Nightmare's Shadow
Delver Magic Book V – Chain of Bargains
Delver Magic Book VI – Pure Choice
Delver Magic Book VII – Altered Messages
Delver Magic Book VIII – Spirit Past
Delver Magic Book I
X - Coming Soon
Spiritual Thriller:
Soul View
Soul Chase
When Do I See God? (by Jeff Ianniello)
Science Fiction:
Alien Cradle
Humor:
Counterproductive Man
To Joan, for being my past, my present, and especially my future!
The dieruhne
snarled as it gazed across the outer regions of Demonspawn. It would have to cross harsh and hostile territories to reach its objective, but the barren terrain and its vicious inhabitants failed to spark any fear in the crimson-skinned beast. The demon inhaled the heavy spiteful air with calm recognition, and it viewed the skulking horrors in the exterior lands as nothing more than minor annoyances. Demonspawn was home to the dieruhne, but it knew its return would not go unnoticed... or unpunished.
A malicious presence at the heart of the realm
would ultimately end the demon's existence. The dieruhne wondered how far it would be allowed to progress before it was plucked from the ground like some fallen, overripe fruit and pulled into the center of the realm to face complete devastation. It knew its fate was inevitable, but it believed it would still be allowed to speak its warning, a warning that was crucial for its masters to hear.
As it began its
march, the hardy figure blended into the cruel environment. Its thick hide and the tall rugged frame captured the essence of brutality. The beast appeared as if it was raised to walk through steaming volcanoes, and its durability became essential as the elements began to rise against it. The dieruhne had been bred in Demonspawn, and though the realm consisted more of desolate rock and empty gray skies than burning lava and heavy black smoke, the demon's inherent strength and resilience allowed it to thrive in the violence and hate that surged across the dismal plane.
S
talking deeper into the realm, the beast eventually came across many of the domain's native inhabitants. Initially, it met with minor demons that hissed and growled. They could sense the dieruhne's presence would no longer be tolerated in Demonspawn, and though they dared not attack the hulking creature, they displayed blatant displeasure with its return.
Though the dieruhne could dispatch the lesser creatures with ease, it could not blame them for their reaction. If it had sensed a similar aura in any of them, it would have torn them to shreds.
Once a full demon ventured out of the realm of its origin— even if it had not been by choice—it could not return without facing annihilation; such was the cost of leaving Demonspawn,
Steadily marching over dry ground that appeared like smoke
-stained sand, the dieruhne proceeded deeper into the realm. As it crossed into territories inhabited by more aggressive creatures, its progress slowed. It found itself fighting through bands of smaller demons. The enraged monsters found the dieruhne's presence insulting. The lesser creatures were no match for the strength of the returning demon, but the beast worried such conflict would only bring greater attention to itself before it fulfilled its purpose.
Casting the minor demons aside, it broke into the inner regions of Demonspawn, not quite the center, but close enough to engage with other dieruhnes.
A large beast set upon the deserter almost immediately.
"
You were unwise to return. The stench of other realms sticks to you. You will be devoured."
"I understand," the returning
fiend replied without emotion.
"You willingly submit to retribution? You will not fight?"
"No, I will not contest my fate, but I come with a warning. Take me to the primevals. It is to them I submit."
The large demon cursed, but it could do nothing more.
The primevals staked out their claims when Demonspawn was in its infancy. They did not rule outright, for there was only one absolute sovereign in the realm of demons, but they demanded tribute. If a demon submitted itself to the judgment and wrath of a primeval—a foolish decision, for the primevals lacked any trace of compassion or integrity—then the compliant demon's fate became locked to the cravings of its masters.
The returning dieruhne was brought to the center of a hollow crater surrounded by large gray boulders that cast shadows of gloom over the cavity. The realm itself lacked all warmth,
even within the dingy radiance that cascaded over the domain. The burning desires of base emotions served as the only illumination across the region, and that light held nothing but despair.
Two of the primevals hung in the shadows.
Like the deserter before them, both were once dieruhnes, but they no longer carried the same shape or traits. Their existence could not be measured by any passage of time. They were beyond ancient, and they had evolved into something greater, and worse, than the origin of their forms.
They looked upon the renegade with growing hunger, but they could not discount the obvious discrepancy in its existence.
They cared little about the defector's warning. They desired to consume the traitor, but in a realm of deceit and treachery, a single misstep, even for a primeval, would lead to destruction.
"The line of your history is broken," one muttered.
"Interrupted," the second agreed.
"My actions were not my own," the dieruhne admitted. "
The break you see in my past is why I am here. My mind was ensnared and I left Demonspawn by another's choosing, not my own."
The ancient demons scoffed at the assertion.
"Do you think this will save you?"
"
The cause of your departure is irrelevant," the second primeval added. "To return means your destruction."
"My destruction is also immaterial. The independence of dieruhne existence is of greater concern. Demons do not bend to the will of base creatures, but I and three other dieruhnes were coerced by serps."
"Impossible!" snapped one of the primevals.
"In this realm, the past is as obvious as the present to those who have
the eyes to see," the dieruhne stated. "The interruption within my history is already obvious to you. How could such a break exist unless control was usurped by another... in my case by a collection of serps?"
The two primevals quietly contemplated the claim. They could not
dispute the fracture in the dieruhne's history. Something had allowed for the demon to absolve itself from its own actions over a brief period of time. They would not, however, accept such an incredible claim on the testimony of a renegade. They lacked the authority, and if they overstepped their boundaries, they would suffer beyond measure.
"You must stand before Reiculf," one of the primevals declared.
"The daokiln will determine the proper response," the second agreed.
"Understood," the dieruhne replied,
even as it realized the weight of such a pronouncement meant its obliteration, "but you must agree that I have fulfilled my commitment to the past. You, the primevals who oversee the dieruhnes, have been warned of external influences. The memories of my actions are now beyond your condemnation."
The dieruhne could say no more. Two winged demons dropped from the dark gray sky and sharp talons dug into the thick skin of
the renegade's arms. They carried the creature deeper into the center of Demonspawn, to the sanctuary of the realm's ultimate ruler. The dieruhne was dropped brusquely to the dark, powdery ground as the flying demons sped off into the bleak shadows overhead.
The dieruhne would not meet the gaze of its
ultimate master. It stood submissively before the daokiln, allowing the massive demon lord to inspect its presence without disturbance.
"I have heard your claim," Reiculf growled. "Y
our past is clear to me, but certain aspects are hidden in dark magic. Serps do not possess such ability. How is it possible they gained control over you? Speak!"
"I am uncertain of their techniques. Several serps formed a council and combined their strength. That is all I know."
"The explanation is insufficient!" the daokiln roared with fury. "You will tell..."
Reiculf ceased his outburst as he looked to the edges of Demonspawn. He sensed more than just invaders to his realm, h
e tasted opportunity.
"I no longer have need of your explanations," the daokiln snarled. "I will ask the serps myself, for they are here."
Though the crimson-skinned demon would not have to face further questioning, it could not escape its fate. Reiculf opened his massive jaws and fell upon the dieruhne, swallowing it whole.
1
"You will tell me everything I want to know, won't you?"
Of course she would, and the serp would not lie, either. Macheve would willingly reveal her deepest secrets. She would condemn herself with every last morsel of truth, no matter how small. She would speak of dark, twisted thoughts that barely entered her mind, thoughts that even a serp might consider unbecoming. She would tell the daokiln, the demon tyrant, anything he wanted to know and more.
She knew what had happened to Desiv and the other serps on the council. Their pain was immeasurable, and their pleas for mercy went unanswered. Her only chance to avoid a similar fate was to cooperate with every fiber of her existence and hope that it would be enough to earn her a comparatively quick and relatively painless death. Her prospects, however, remained bleak. Hope died quickly in that horrid place, torn away with feverish wrath.
The council of serps had been captured immediately after Enin had expunged them from Portsans and delivered them to Demonspawn. They never had a chance to escape the breeding grounds of pure demons, never made more than a few steps toward the much less formidable regions of the dark realm. They were plucked from the ground by frightening winged beasts and brought to the very depths of the most loathsome region within a nightmare existence.
They couldn't run from their collective fate, couldn't hide from the demon ruler who was aware of their misguided exploits. They had previously chosen to take control of four dieruhnes, pure demons, and their past connection to the fiends rang out across Demonspawn like bells chiming on an otherwise peaceful evening during the dormant season.
There had been five serps, and each was thrown into a chamber of confinement matching his or her greatest fears. There they had waited for what seemed an eternity. They wept and screamed, pleaded for an end to their torment, but when their voices found the attention of the unholy beast, they wished they had remained silent and accepted their captivity as blissful sanctuary.
One by one they had been wrenched from their cells and brought before the daokiln. They were not questioned. They were not offered any hope for salvation. They faced absolute annihilation. The demon tyrant shredded their existence as if their souls had been slowly grated on dull blades and then set on fire. Death came only after there was no more possible pain left for them to feel.
Macheve was the last of the five, and she had been forced to watch from a dark pit. The stinking hole was completely covered in shadow. Steep walls smeared with blood and torn flesh utterly destroyed any thought of escape. A thick, oily ooze ran down those same walls and carried half dead insects into the bottom of the hollow. The disgusting slime covered Macheve to her waist. To her horror, her circumstances were almost pleasing compared to the ghastly end which she knew awaited her.
Evil sprites projected the fates of her fellow council members into her mind, forced her to concentrate on the horrific suffering of each serp. She could not block out the images, could not bar the grievous scenes from her consciousness.
In a way, she actually experienced their pain. She shared in their agony, and she understood that the torment grew with each death. She knew hers would be the worst, and when she was finally ripped from the sludge of her pit, she looked about frantically for some sharp object she could stab into her own dark heart or through her eye and deep into her brain.
To her dismay, the ground was barren of everything but a fine, dark gray dust. Not a single rock, dull or sharp, was within her grasp. She dropped to her knees before the massive demon but could not even whimper for pity. Her mind was locked with fear, and she trembled convulsively.
The demon tyrant leaned slightly forward, purposely casting his heavy shadow over the pawn he intended to use. He was far taller and more massive than a cliff behemoth, but his face lacked the peaceful serenity obtained from the word of Godson. There was a mix of anger and hate in his expression, but also twisted purpose. He would have his way.
"You did not answer me," the daokiln noted, and then repeated himself with even greater emphasis. "You
will
tell me everything I want to know,
won't you?!"
"Yes... whatever you want," Macheve managed.
"I want many things and I believe you are the key to those desires. But keys are tools, nothing more. Do you understand?"
"Yes... I do."
"No, you do not. Look at me!"
Macheve took her gaze from the ashy ground and placed it upon the center of the daokiln. He was both majestic and gruesome, and Macheve understood immediately how the beast could rule Demonspawn unopposed. From the broad, taught face, across the thick, bare chest and down the powerful, unyielding legs, the demon possessed the aura of an inconceivable strength fueled by incessant hate. The pale gray skin appeared to vibrate with tension, and the demonic white eyes were empty of compassion.
The demon wished to remove all doubt from the insignificant creature before it, desired to write his ownership across Macheve's soul.
"You are serp," the daokiln hissed, "and you understand both manipulation and control. You have the power to search thoughts, but unless I allow it, my mind is impenetrable to you. For this one moment, I will allow it. Search my mind."
The statement was issued as a bellowing command of authority, and Macheve did not hesitate in following the order. She did not wish to reach into the mind of such a wicked beast, but to refuse would invite far worse punishment. With great trepidation but without recourse, she linked her mind to the vile thoughts of the demon tyrant.
In but a single instant, a wave of a thousand nightmares rushed through her consciousness. She witnessed horrors beyond her imagination; cruel and vicious images shred her previous understanding of reality.
Macheve was serp... she came from the dark realm. Her own desires were shaped from twisted selfishness, but even her worst and most base thoughts could not begin to compare to the ghastly scenes that assaulted her senses.
She saw chaos on an unimaginable scale. She smelled decaying flesh, smoldering rock, and diseased crops. She felt boiling heat on her scaly skin even as a wave of blistering cold cut her to the bone. Her insides burned and then froze, seemingly hundreds of times over and over in a single heartbeat. She heard screams from every corner of existence, soul-wrenching shrieks that pierced her body like a hundred sharp knives.
The overwhelming agony in every dark fragment gripped Macheve's body, and she could not break its hold. Nausea swept through her entire being and she emptied the contents of her stomach, her last meal, upon the charcoal dust before her.
The steaming vomit was instantly attacked by the very ground itself. The dark particles swallowed the partially digested glob with a display of viciousness that only served to expand the serp's sickness.
Insanity would have taken hold of her, but the daokiln would not allow it. The demon lord grabbed her awareness with a brutality of his own, wrenched it from the depths of madness, and forced the serp to face her fate with absolute clarity of mind.
The ruler of Demonspawn decided to test the serp.
"Speak my name," the daokiln demanded.
"Reiculf," Macheve replied with a wheezing hack, as if stating the name forced her to sink deeper into the horrors she had perceived.
"And what am I?"
"You are the master of Demonspawn."
"A master has many tools, but by themselves, tools are useless. They only maintain purpose through my hands. That one lesson must be made clear to you. You have nothing with which to bargain, no significance on your own. You are worthless unless I deem otherwise. What you have from this moment forward comes from my willingness to use you. The moment I discard you, you are nothing. That is what you now understand."
Macheve did not even nod, but her acceptance of that fact was beyond question. She remained who she was, she remained the serp Macheve, but her resolve was gone. The momentary link to Reiculf washed away her autonomy. She was not of demon blood, but she was within the grip of their master.
Reiculf could have torn the answers he desired from Macheve's mind, but he found it more entertaining, more amusing, to question the serp, to trifle with the lesser being's minimal awareness. It was a momentary distraction for the fiend, nothing more.
"You were one of several serps. You formed a council and pooled your manipulative powers. In doing so, you gained influence over pure demons, an impressive task, but one that has earned you your fate. Explain how you managed this!"
Macheve answered robotically.
"We linked ourselves with magic. The connection allowed us to overcome our own deviousness. As individuals, we could not betray the council."
"You used magic to alter your character... to suppress your natural inclination toward deceit?"
"No, we allowed the magical link to bring our deceitful nature to the surface. Our thoughts and plans became intertwined."
"Interesting, but how were you able to combine your manipulative talents?"
"Through the same link."
The demon master's blazing pale eyes probed deeper into the serp, and Reiculf's patience for the game dwindled.
"I know you cannot lie to me, but your answer is deficient. Magical connections are limited. I have such a link with you now. I can command you, but I cannot pass my influence through you. Otherwise, I would have the window I crave to cast my will upon every realm through which you could pass."
Macheve no longer felt overwhelming fear in responding to the demon tyrant. The monster still terrified her, but a growing yearning overcame the dread. While she could still experience pain, and the anguish that went with it, she had become a slave to the master, and as such, she answered with a willingness to please Reiculf.
"It was not a connection born of a magical spell. We each took a slice of pure magic from the core of a single spell caster. We absorbed that magic and became linked. Even as the magic existed in separate entities, it remained bound to its original source. Through the spell caster, the members of the council shared both thoughts and
ambitions, but we could also combine our abilities."
Magic was not foreign to the daokiln, but the concept of binding individuals through core slices as opposed to the workings of a spell was unique and surprising.
"A slice of pure magic? Serps joined by congruent magic taken from another's core? Who thought of this?"
"A spell caster named Ansas. He developed the means."
"And where is this Ansas now?"
"He was defeated and taken by the slink ghoul, Baannat."
The tyrant was also well aware of Baannat. Reiculf did not view the ghoul as a threat, but more of an anomaly. The daokiln admitted as much as the entire incident appeared to take on even greater significance.
"I have studied Baannat," the monster admitted. "He is no longer simply a slink ghoul. He has transformed into a being of dual states. He is trapped in a new realm of nonexistence where his influence is restricted. Still, he manages to reach out into physical realms with limited power. His ability was aided by the transformation of his being. Even though I wish to reach into the physical worlds, I am not willing to alter what I am."
Reiculf considered the facets of Macheve's explanation as he peered into the very history of the serp's existence. He knew the loathsome creature could not lie in his presence, but certain inconsistencies remained in her account.
"There is no connection between your council of serps and Baannat," the monster hissed. "And as for the sorcerer, your council formed after Ansas was defeated and taken hostage. With Ansas trapped in Baannat's realm, how did you obtain the knowledge necessary to take magical slices from a spell caster's core?"
"Ansas left detailed notes on many discoveries. We also used a spell caster that had once received a slice of Ansas' own magical core. His name is Neltus. That made the process easier since Neltus was already versed in the process. Based on what we learned from the notes and the spell caster's previous experience, we managed to determine the correct procedure. Every member of the council received a slice of core magic. We were tied together in many ways, ways that allowed us to combine our magical abilities. We were even able to keep track of Enin, the wizard from Connel, through an indirect link."
"Indirect?" the daokiln hissed.
"We did not receive any portion of Enin's magic, but we maneuvered Enin into a difficult position. We forced him to give a portion of his energy to Neltus. It allowed us to keep the wizard in check, at least for a while."
Even in Demonspawn, Reiculf was aware of Enin. The wizard who could cast pure white magic in two perfect circles was one of the most powerful spell casters to shape the history of Uton. Enin, however, meant nothing to the daokiln. Reiculf's energy encompassed an entire dimension of hate and agony, and every wicked flame pulsated through his essence. His magic was beyond that of mortals, but it had always remained trapped in Demonspawn.
The daokiln considered the past events of Uton. Twisted histories flourished in Demonspawn, and the master of the domain picked through each shred. As he began to tie specific pieces together, he took hold of the opportunity at hand.