The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 10

The Dark God

At heart, the gods as we have come to know them are merely powerful sentient and incredibly dense concentrations of aythar. It is thought that many of them formed originally as the result of mankind’s innate need to worship a higher power, but this theory is unproven as some of the gods currently known certainly predate the existence of humanity. Whether they arose as a result of a prior sentient race similar to humankind is uncertain, they might well have developed from some purely natural phenomenon, independent of believers. The real question lies in what their ultimate goals are regarding mortal beings. Some have proven definitively malignant while others still seem benign.

~Marcus the Heretic,

On the Nature of Faith and Magic

The fireworks were of benefit to more than just the spectators. It proved to be a perfect distraction for Devon Tremont to do a little research. The puzzling events in his room the night before had left him troubled. Someone had made a fool of him, and given the circumstances there was only one man that could possibly have done it.

He had shoved the furniture to one side, clearing the center of the room. Using a stick of charcoal he drew two black circles on the floor, one within the other. In the space between the two he traced a row of strange symbols. They glowed subtly as he finished and began his incantation. The summoning took several minutes, and during the invocation he repeated one name at regular intervals. As he finished the light in the room dimmed and shadows began to move strangely within the circle.

A dark form solidified within the center, a shape that moved and twisted like smoke trapped in a jar. “What do you seek of me little wizard? You have not yet paid what you owe.” The voice was deep and coarse, rumbling like thunder in a winter storm.

Devon kept his aspect calm, showing fear here would be a grave mistake, “You will get your payment when I am king. The Lancasters are but the first of many rewards you will receive.”

“You would do well to leave me undisturbed if you have no gift of blood, I am not some petty demon to be trifled with.” A black maw of twisted teeth appeared in the smoke for a moment before vanishing again.

“Perhaps if your information had been complete I would be more likely to provide such gifts, Mal’goroth.” A bead of sweat ran down Devon’s brow, he was taking a risk here.

“You imply I have violated our pact?” The voice was curious.

“You told me that there were no living wizards,” he replied.

“All the ancient bloodlines have been severed and the knowledge they kept is broken and scattered, there are none left. Do you dispute this?” Mal’goroth’s words were heavy with implicit threat.

“There is a wizard here, in the House of Lancaster, I would not think such a thing would escape your notice,” Devon answered.

Mal’goroth spoke, “The talent arises from time to time, you yourself are proof of this. This mage can be no threat, without knowledge he is helpless, there are no more wizards.”

“His name is Mordecai, how would you explain that? A random mage appearing here among the Lancasters, bearing a name from the line of Illenial?” Devon felt surer of himself now.

“Lies! The line of Illenial is no more, the last of them died sixteen years ago at the hands of the Shaddoth Krys.” Mal’goroth had become still within the circle.

“Then the Shadow-Blades failed, even the Shaddoth Krys can make mistakes it would seem. Your information was flawed, like their mission.” Devon was baiting Mal’goroth now, he hoped to get more from their bargain.

After a long pause Mal’goroth answered, “Yes.”

“Then you must redress that mistake. I will require more assistance.” This was going better than Devon had hoped.

“The Shaddoth Krys are too far, it would be better if you allow me to help you directly.” Mal’goroth sounded eager.

“I am no fool, I will not bridge the gulf for you,” Devon snapped.

“I would not suggest that, merely let me join with you, my power could make your task simple.” The dark god’s voice was almost friendly now. It was suggesting Devon open his mind to it, channeling the evil god’s power. The thought was tempting but Devon shivered at the thought of letting the being into his mind. There was no surety he would ever be able to get it out again.

“That is unacceptable. What of your followers?” he was referring to the cult of Mal’goroth, a secret society worshipping in the shadows, hidden from the eyes of saner men.

“They could not reach here soon enough wizard, unless you open a way for them. Are you capable of such a thing?” Mal’goroth sneered audibly.

“I can manage it, without need for your power,” Devon said. “How soon can they be ready?”

The dark form of Mal’goroth shifted in the circle, “Four nights from now. They will be waiting.”

Devon smiled, creating a path to transport them would be difficult, but the result would be worth it. His original plan had been subtler, but sometimes bold strokes created a masterpiece. The Lancasters would be removed, they and their retainers would feed the dark god and their absence would destabilize the kingdom, a necessary first step. He finished his discussion with Mal’goroth and ended the summoning spell. Once he was sure the creature had gone, he broke the circle and began planning.

First he would remove the blacksmith’s son. He represented a significant threat to the completion of his scheme. After that he would see the House of Lancaster expunged and their retainers brought to ruin. The House of Tremont would not benefit in the short term, but in the years to come, when the royal family suffered a great tragedy there would be no rivals to contend for the throne. Tremont would be the only possible choice.

There was yet more to do, so Devon left his room and went below. He needed a quiet isolated location within the keep, a place where something as conspicuous as a large transportation glyph would go unnoticed. Now would be the best time to find a place for it, while everyone was still watching the pyrotechnics he would be free to roam the cellars and tunnels beneath the keep.