A Wizard's War - 39. The Void Gate

Yidian lay on their back floating in a sea of pleasure and drunk with power. The goblin chieftain’s huge, pierced cock head was slamming in and out of Simon’s gaping hole with each powerful thrust. The chieftain had been surprised by the transformation of Simon’s body, the once scrawny, pimple-faced farm boy had grown into a strong and powerful man. The chieftain had been more than happy to, once again, anoint the Seeded One with his goblin ancestry.

With one last powerful thrust, the chieftain unloaded his copious amounts of pent-up semen into Simon’s body. The chieftain roared and clamped his sharp teeth around Simon’s fleshy nipple. Yidian also growled with satisfaction at both the pain and the waves of pleasure.

Uttering words in his goblin tongue, the chieftain took his leave when he’d finished his business. Yidian lay for a long while experiencing the vast amounts of fluid that had been poured into them. Yidian had missed Simon’s first encounter with the goblin chieftain but, although Simon’s memory remained, there was no substitute for the real thing. Such stout and grotesque creatures, but the virility was impressive.

“They ejaculate in large quantities,” Auren spoke as he let himself into the room, “Because they save themselves for procreation only. The expenditure of such a gift is a rare honor.”

Yidian felt their good mood vanish at the sight of the ancient wizard.

“Don’t you ever knock?” Yidian growled angrily as they covered Simon’s naked body with a blanket.

“Lord Byron will be returning today,” Auren ignored Yidian’s pointed question, “The attack on Votu Morgana was a success and we will move against the Bastion soon.”

“Why all this death and destruction?” Yidian asked, “Why not just summon Belothemid into his vessel and be done with it?”

“Get dressed,” Auren continued, “And make sure Simon’s companions are ready as well. They will protect you and keep you strong.”

“What is your plan, Arganon?” Yidian sneered, “And what have you been doing with all that seed if not giving it to Byron?”

“I command you, Yidian, to never call me by that name again!” Auren shouted suddenly in a flare of anger.

“There he is,” Yidian smirked knowingly, “The dark wizard showing his true colors.”

Before Auren could say more, the dark-skinned, former Vicar General for the Order of Belothemid, Akar Kalayvan, came slinking into the room. The broken and scarred vampire was a shadow of the self-important, brutal torturer that had once roamed the icy halls. Now he was weak and obsequiously groveled before his returned master.

“Master,” Akar mumbled, “You asked to see me.”

“You and your companion Crusnik nearly destroyed the most important weapon in this coming war,” Auren spat angrily, “You’re lucky you still draw breath.”

“We did not know, Master. Please, forgive us.”

“For whatever reason,” Auren considered, “You survived and have been given a second chance. You will protect the Seeded One with your life. If anything happens to him, I will make sure the rest of your immortal life is spent screaming in agony! And don’t you dare touch him! That seed is not meant for the likes of filth like you.”

“Yes, Master,” Akar pleaded, “I will do as you command.”

Leaving Akar kneeling on the floor in tears, Auren strode angrily from the chamber. Yidian rose from the bed and began to dress. When they finished, they moved hesitantly to the broken man still kneeling on the ground.

“Please,” Akar squeaked, “I beg your forgiveness.”

Yidian wrapped Simon’s powerful hands around the vampire’s head, the veins in their arms stood out over the bulging muscles, and with a sharp twist they broke his neck. After the sickening crack, Akar’s body fell in a crumpled heap onto the floor. Yidian knew full well the undead wizard’s body would mend itself in time, but it was still deeply satisfying.

“You’re not forgiven,” Yidian grumbled as they stepped over the body to go find Connor, Rummert, and Fogrot.

Connor gazed into the mirror at the scraggly beard that was covering his chin amazed he had just shaved the day before. His eyes were a shiny copper now and never lost their lupine quality after the demon had corrupted him. His sharp teeth also glinted in the firelight. The hungry beast was always just beneath the surface, and it was hard for Connor to resist taking more and more from the demon.

The less intelligent of the two orcs, Rummert, had no such qualms. His muscles had swollen to unimaginable proportions and his companion, Fogrot, was dwarfed while standing next to him. Connor had seen Rummert naked on more occasions than he would like and had no idea how Simon could take the arm-like appendage between his legs. Nevertheless, Rummert had been hammering the demon like a battering ram on a daily basis.

“You will be happy to know we are finally leaving!” Yidian announced as they strode into the chamber.

“It’s about time,” Connor glowered at them with disgust, “Where are we going?”

“To the Bastion,” Yidian nodded, “Order troops now control Votu Vomir and Votu Morgana and shall attack from both the north and the south.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” Connor asked defiantly.

“We’re hoping to be holding all the cards when Simon finally returns to us. For that, the arrogant wizards at the Bastion must be taken down a peg or two.”

“How will that work exactly?” Connor asked, “You keep saying Simon will return, why don’t we get Simon back now and let him decide what happens with his body?”

“You may be a sexy werewolf rogue, but you really are a killjoy…” Yidian frowned with disappointment, “You should learn to live a little, like Rummert here!”

Rummert looked quite pleased as he began to pack his few belongings and attach his weapon belt. Fogrot was also getting ready as instructed with less enthusiasm.

“Fogrot,” Yidian called and held out a rolled parchment, “We’d like you to look this over and see if it is convincing. It is a letter for King Tetlak.”

Fogrot furrowed his brow to read, then paused.

“This orcish?” Fogrot puzzled, “Simon not speak orcish.”

“We are not Simon,” Yidian shrugged. Fogrot returned his attention to the document.

“What is it?” Connor asked curiously.

“It is a request from the Kingmaker to summon an army to attack the Bastion. A chance for orcs to go to war again.”

“WAAARRR!!” shouted Rummert loudly as he brandished his massive axe into the air.

“Simon would never want that!” Connor pushed the demon aside, attempting to grab the letter in Fogrot’s hands.

“We’re hoping Tetlak knows that too,” Yidian brushed off the rude shove and lay a reassuring hand on Connor, “But is it convincing?”

“You aim to fool the wizard, Auren?” Fogrot gave Yidian an assessing glance.

“He asked us to write the letter; we need it to be convincing, though not entirely successful.”

“King Tetlak will suspect the Kingmaker is in danger after reading this and will send orcs,” Fogrot confirmed, “But not to attack Bastion. Such would be foolish.”

“What game are you playing?” Connor shrugged Simon’s hand from his shoulder and tried to bare his sharp teeth intimidatingly at the demon.

“A game where you only know half the rules, little pup,” Yidian scratched the werewolf’s furry chin.

The flash of anger was immediate as Connor grabbed the demon around the wrist and slammed their body against the wall, cracking the great ice slab. He repeatedly bashed into them with clawed fists, while the demon began to laugh. Rummert had to haul Connor away and was holding the thrashing werewolf tucked under one arm.

Connor finally saw in horror that he had drawn blood that was soaking the front of Simon’s clothes. And he saw Simon’s face staring back at him in amusement. It was maddening to see that thing wear his friend’s body. Fogrot moved to tend to Simon’s wounds, but the demon waved him aside.

“It will heal,” Yidian shook his head and then spoke again to Connor, “We can’t make you trust us, but you are coming with us. You can carry him, Rummert?”

“Yes, Kingmaker.”

“Good. The letter if you please, Fogrot.”

Fogrot handed the letter back. After changing out of their bloody clothes, Yidian led them from the room. Connor felt humiliated being carried around like he weighed nothing to the massive orc. He tried to reason with Rummert, to let him walk on his own, but once the demon had given an order Rummert was not likely to disobey.

The group found their way through the passages to a great hall with an ornate arch carved into stone. Connor recognized the room from his first arrival at the ice palace and recalled some sort of magic portal filling the archway. As if responding to Connor’s thoughts, the wall suddenly sprang to life. A dark mark appeared on the stone and spread like a blotch of ink across the surface until it filled the entire archway with an empty void.

A young woman stepped out first, followed by Lord Abadeer Byron, who was gripping the girl’s arm tightly. Despite Byron’s imposing presence and pale, gaunt face, he was quite handsome with the most extraordinary silver hair cascading over his shoulders. He was clad in black armor which did manage to hide some, but not all, of the blood from a recent battle.

“My Lord,” Auren entered the hall and bowed low before Byron, “You made excellent time.”

“May I close it, my lord,” the girl asked weakly as blood trickled from her nose and she shook with effort.

“For now, pet,” Byron released her arm and the portal closed behind them.

Jemma collapsed to her knees, exhausted from holding open the Hidden Path. She looked around the hall and saw a strange assortment of individuals. The biggest shock were two terrifying orcs standing in their midst, one enormous specimen holding an unusually hairy man. She let out a terrified screech, which earned her a backhand to the face from Byron.

Since her capture, Jemma had been forced to do one thing after another in service to the Order of Belothemid, but by far the worst had come when Byron took a special interest. His was a face she saw in her nightmares. The things he had done to her were unspeakable, and his tastes were not that of physical pleasure but pain. She had scars all over her body from being played with by the fanatic.

“With more elves taken prisoner,” Byron continued speaking with Auren, “it is only a matter of time until we have more ways of opening the Hidden Paths. Press hard enough in the right place and everything breaks.”

“Where are your manners, Simon?” Auren chided, “Lord Byron saved your life, or have you forgotten?”

“We are pleased to see you again, my lord,” Yidian spoke tersely through gritted teeth before bowing low.

“You have what we asked for?” Byron growled and extended his hand. In it, Yidian placed the rolled parchment with the message to Tetlak.

“Everything in order, my lord?” Auren asked as Byron scanned the document.

“This should set things right,” Byron smirked, “Our master may yet forgive your past transgressions, boy.”

“We guess you don’t know Belothemid like we do, my lord,” Yidian replied superciliously.

“How dare you!” Byron roared, his dark eyes flashing.

“We know that it is not in Belothemid’s nature to be forgiving,” Yidian amended, recalling their need to stay in the lord’s good graces, “Much like yourself, my lord.”

Lord Byron still looked furious, but he accepted Yidian’s show of deference.

“Mind your tongue or the Seeded One will have to live without one.”

“If we’re quite done with the pleasantries,” Auren pressed, “the Order has prepared a great banquet in your honor, my lord, before we leave for our final march.”

“Did you complete your task, wizard?” Byron rounded on Auren irritably.

“Yes, my lord,” Auren nodded, “I found a much better source of power.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

Yidian thought about the many earthenware jars of semen they had provided to Auren. What was this new source of power meant to do? Yidian could only guess but felt incredibly uneasy about the possibilities.

Lord Byron made his way to the banquet hall and Auren beckoned Yidian and his companions to follow. They were directed to an adjacent chamber with no chairs or tables, but at least they were brought some of the delicious food. Connor, Rummert, and Fogrot all ate greedily, uncertain when they would get another meal of such extravagance. Yidian did not have to eat but decided to try a leg from the baked yard bird. It was cooked perfectly, but the food tasted like dirt in Simon’s dead mouth. Yidian hoped the strength of the Seeded One would preserve the body a while longer. In time it would start to break down completely.

Connor studied the demon, noticing their sour mood as they nibbled on some meat. He didn’t like the circumstances, but Connor knew he needed to protect Simon. Connor also wondered what atrocities could be prevented if he shifted into a wolf and tore Lord Byron’s heart from his chest. There was the old wizard to contend with too and a castle filled with loyal soldiers. It would do no good to be slain like a beast. Connor would have to bide his time, until the moment was right.

When the banquet concluded, servants cleared the serving ware while several dark robed figures entered the main hall. Akar, who was among them, seemed to stumble a bit and his head sat at an odd angle on his shoulders. The hooded figures represented the oldest members of the Order of Belothemid, undead necromancers from ages past and servants to their Master Arganon.

“Imagine a world without death!” the head priest called out to the giant room, “This is the desire of our god, our master, Belothemid. Too long have we allowed those who worship these lesser gods dictate to us their demands and laws! But now, Belothemid sends us his champion!”

The priest extended a hand toward Byron’s place of honor at the front table and the lord rose from his chair triumphantly. The room erupted in cheers and the chanting of Byron’s name. Byron strode over to the priest who had come forward with an ornate golden bowl. The priest removed a dripping hand from the bowl and pressed his blood-soaked palm against Byron’s face. Byron turned his pale face to the crowd, now marked with a bloody handprint, to renewed cries and cheers of admiration.

“You know your place!” Byron roared as the cheers subsided, “You know your duty! Stick to the path and you will be rewarded when Belothemid returns! You will be among the first to receive his blessing of eternal life!”

Renewed cheers filled the hall and Byron waited, admiring the dedication of his followers.

“The time has come to march toward our final goal!” Byron declared, “The Bastion will fall and with it the last resistance to our new age! The Age of Belothemid!”

The loudest ruckus yet filled the hall as goblets were raised and soldiers felt gratitude that the end was in sight. They were far from the dark and stormy Riven Kingdom to the west. They had crossed the perilous Northen Reach Mountains, purged every city that stood in their path, lost many companions in the fires at Southport, forged the Belamere River, braved the swamps at Caiman’s Folly, and finally the icy cold of Votu Vomir. They fought ruthlessly for what they believed, and their holy crusade was nearly at an end.

When the festivities concluded, orders were issued by the commanding officers and a large portion of the Order forces prepared to march south toward the Bastion on the following morning. Byron’s elite, however, prepared to depart through the Hidden Path.

“You’re with me,” Akar entered the small room where Yidian, Connor, Rummert, and Fogrot were waiting after their meal. Akar looked exasperated about the orders he’d been given. He refused to meet Yidian’s eyes.

“The Hidden Paths,” Akar commented trying to engage his charges, “have you heard of them?”

Connor looked up confused and the others with disgust, realizing Akar was addressing them directly.

“It is truly fascinating of what the elves were capable,” Akar continued without waiting for a response, “Early dragons gifted them with numerous gifts from the realms beyond our world. Magic was non-existent until the elves found the way. The elves were able to explore the world freely as they constructed magical bridges that exist between our world and the worlds beyond.”

“The Hidden Paths,” Connor guessed flatly, unamused by Akar’s history lesson.

“Exactly,” Yidian nodded grimly, “But there is some crazy nasty shit in those other worlds, and they were forced to seal the bridges when things started crossing over.”

“Are those things still there?” Connor asked with trepidation.

“Yes,” Yidian answered gravely, “That’s why we need the three of you. Not only do you give Simon strength, but you can also protect us from the dangers within.”

“We will let no harm come to Simon,” Fogrot agreed forcefully, emphasizing it was for Simon alone.

“For the Kingmaker!” Rummert concurred.

“This is all very touching,” Akar mused, “but it is time to meet Lord Byron at the portal arch.”

Rummert moved to pick Connor up like a sack of potatoes again, but Yidian stopped him.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Yidian looked pointedly at Connor, “Is it?”

“No,” Connor assented.

The group found themselves once more in front of the portal, where a contingent of Byron’s elite were also waiting. The timid and frightened-looking Jemma also stood at Byron’s side, shaking on her feet. Akar had bowed reverentially as they entered the room, while it appeared to be in Byron’s direction, his eyes never left Auren.

“My… guests,” Byron addressed the five newcomers with some disdain, “It is important that you follow my lead while within the Hidden Path. Stick only to the path and go where I go. Traveling by this method has not been without some… casualties.”

Akar spoke at once, “Yes, my lord.”

Akar turned a glare toward Yidian and the others who hesitantly echoed his words. Everyone, except Connor who stood silently observing them all. Yidian seemed to sense the tension from Connor and turned Simon’s faded green eyes toward him.

“Your friend needs you still,” Yidian urged in a whisper, “Don’t throw your life away.”

Byron was roughly grabbing Jemma by the arm and forcing her forward to the portal. No one seemed to notice Connor on the edge of violence, except Yidian. The lupine features were becoming more prominent as a low growl reverberated in his chest.

“Look at us,” Yidian was saying, gripping Connor’s shoulders and urging him to relax, “Be here with us.”

Auren finally took notice of Connor as his hairy arms began to elongate and his sharp teeth began to protrude into a snout. The wolf inside was taking over and it seemed Yidian could not pull him back.

“Stand aside,” Auren hissed at Yidian and the demon was compelled to obey. There was a sizzling crack followed by a black, electric flash of negative energy. Lacerations appeared all over Connor’s body as his body fell backward onto the stone floor.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Yidian growled. Byron had paused at the entrance of the portal to look back. Jemma was summoning the inky void once again to fill the archway.

“The orcs will provide more than enough strength,” Auren motioned to Rummert and Fogrot.

“Nothing like him,” Yidian pointed to Connor’s unconscious body, “Simon needs him. They share a bond, and he is not the only one of his kind. We need the wolf even if you cannot see it yet.”

“What are these games you are playing, wizard?” Byron asked Auren dangerously. It had become increasingly evident that Auren had his own agendas rising to the surface, and Byron’s trust in his loyalty was rapidly deteriorating. Behind Byron, the portal had filled with darkness, and he stood framed in the disturbing void as he awaited Auren’s reply.

“The power of the Seeded One is now in our hands,” Auren ventured, “Belothemid has shared with me the importance of their strength in the coming conflict. Some allowances must be made to maintain their loyalty.”

“They are not loyal,” Byron spat, “They are for us to use, just like my dear Jemma here. Get it under control wizard, or I will have to step in.”

Auren searched Yidian’s face uncertainly. Seeming to weigh the options and determine the necessity of bringing Connor with them.

“We are leaving now,” Auren concluded, “The wolf is your burden to bear if he is coming with us.”

Yidian turned to look at Rummert meaningfully, who picked up Connor’s limp body with ease. Blood was dripping on the floor from the unconscious figure and only time would tell if he recovered.

They passed through the portal in turn, Jemma and Byron, followed by Auren, Yidian, Fogrot and Rummert, Akar, and then twenty fierce looking fighters in black armor. Crossing the barrier was disorienting like being inside a kaleidoscope of black, white, and shades of gray. The world spun around and became only a blurred image of vague shapes. There was nothing to determine what was up or down, walking forward could just as easily be walking backward. Rummert’s stomach lurched, and he feared momentarily he might lose the big meal he’d just eaten.

Yidian blinked to clear the swirling vision and opened their eyes to an endless, shimmering ocean above and a black abyss below. There seemed to be no ground, just darkness, but they could feel the solid surface on which they were standing. Upon closer inspection, what seemed to be water was actually a collection of tiny motes of light each twinkling with a destination.

“The path is nearly invisible,” Auren cautioned to them, “And to stray is to fall into the unknown. While there are endless worlds and connections to be made, we can only stray into previously established locations where a portal is waiting.”

“Follow the footsteps of the person in front of you,” Byron continued, “Make sure each step lands on solid ground before continuing. And if you see something you cannot explain, speak up at once!”

“I can’t explain any of this,” Fogrot grumbled.

The slow, dangerous march began. There were no footfalls or scrapes from their feet on the invisible ground. The only sounds were their breathing and hushed whispers. The silence was unnerving as if the space between worlds was holding its breath, waiting for one of them to fall into nothing. With no landmarks or guides, each person followed the person before them and hoped that Byron knew where they were headed.