Lazybones
Adventurer
Book VI, Part 38
Slowly, the heavy doors opened.
The sorcerer walked through even before the portals had stopped moving, the thick slabs of black stone moving seemingly of their own volition, for no creature could be seen pushing at them from within. His steps were silent on the stone floor, for he wore no boots, in fact wore no garments at all. The air was hot, and sticky with dampness, and the man wore a sheen of sweat across his bare body. But if the sorcerer paid no heed to his surroundings, and when he stepped on a broken piece of stone flooring, opening a shallow gash in the sole of his foot, he neither flinched nor changed his pace. Footprints splayed out in fresh blood were left in his wake, marking a grim trail as he strode into the chamber beyond the doors.
He walked down a set of broad, slightly curving stone steps that descended into a broad chamber fashioned in the shape of an octagon. Energetic red flames danced in braziers of tarnished bronze set into the stone around the perimeter of the chamber, casting everything in a harsh, ruddy glow. The ceiling rose in tiers to a point somewhere high above, lost in shadow.
The center of the place was dominated by a dais formed of three steps, each higher than the last, forming a platform at least six feet above the floor of the chamber. Atop the dais a ring of slender pillars fashioned of a black, dull metal curved inward to converge just shy of touching, like a set of claws rising up from the very rock. Within that ring the stone of the dais was carved with a swirling, garish blend of hard colors that seemed to be a part of the floor, comprising together a design that served both to attract the eye and make one a bit queasy at the same time. Beside the pillars and the floor design stood several stone biers, solid slabs of plain gray rock that looked plain beside the adjacent display.
The room was not unoccupied. Standing on the edge of the platform was a tall, lean demon, its skin colored a fiery red, its features otherwise appearing human save for its overly large mouth and the slight ridges visible along its hairless skull. It was clad in a cloak that was the color of blood, which swirled slightly around its body despite that fact that no breeze stirred the chamber.
There were others as well, shadowy forms that kept to the edges of the room. The sorcerer paid them no heed. He was not here, but the man could almost feel the familiar presence around him, watching.
His lips twisted into a sneer as he walked up to the edge of the dais, standing before the tall demon perched on its edge like a vulture waiting for his prey to expire. The demon matched his expression, but there was something in his eyes, an edge as it regarded the human standing boldly before it.
“Are you prepared to accept the power that is being offered you this day, manling?” the demon rasped.
The man did not reply, but he climbed the steps up to the dais, and when he shifted his eyes to regard the demon, they were cold, empty.
“You must make this choice of your own free will,” the demon said, its tone mocking. “You can turn away and leave this place, if you wish, at any moment.”
The human turned to face the demon, and a look of contempt appeared on his features. “Bring on your test, demon, and be done with it.”
The demon turned away, and gestured. A shadowy form emerged from the edges of the chamber, resolving into a hunched, massive form that approached and clambered up atop the dais. It was a hezrou, the twisted intelligence that shone in its eyes belied by the horror of its appearance. As the red-skinned demon pointed it moved into the circle in the center of the dais reluctantly but inexorably.
The demon began to chant, and as he spoke, each foul syllable hanging in the air like a cloud of smoke, the room seemed to darken, the lights around the perimeter fading as if the words were choking off their supply of air. A new source of light appeared around the metal pylons, however, a hazy, deep glow that was a mélange of dark colors, and the pattern in the floor began to shift, swimming in a dizzying spiral through the very stone. The demon twisted back, staggering if drunk, trying reflexively to claw its way out of the circle. The way was unbarred, but it could not escape, trapped in the matrix of energies released by the dark chant.
And then, in a new horror, the demon began to scream, a terrible sound, and with each new burst of sound its skin began to peel back off its body in huge slabs, revealing muscle and organs beneath. As the light touched the innards of its putrid form they began to smoke and dissolve, as if acid had been poured upon them. The shrieks intensified for a moment, seeming to shake the very walls, and then, abruptly, they stopped.
The red-skinned demon continued its chant, and shot a sideways glance at the human. The sorcerer had stood still throughout the ritual, impassive, although the terrible barrage of sights and sounds would have driven many a mortal man hopelessly mad. No emotion whatsoever shone in his dark eyes, however, nothing save a reflection of the flames around the edges of the chambers.
The inner stuff of the demon had boiled away, leaving only a sick pile of greasy leavings in the center of the circle, and the demon’s hide, hovering in the air above the still-spinning pattern.
The demon finished its chant. “The power is yours to take, human.”
Without hesitation the sorcerer stepped forward into the circle. The ring blazed a nimbus of fire around him as he passed between the metal pylons, but the flames died away an instant later as he stepped forward onto the swirling pattern. The pattern’s colors twisted and distorted where his bare feet touched the stone, sending out black tendrils through the spiral. The sorcerer turned and faced the demon, which began once again its dark chant.
Suddenly, as if it was a living thing, the skin of the demon, hovering above the form of the man, lashed down and wrapped itself around his naked body. The man lurched and his head snapped up, his jaw open in a soundless scream. The demonic hide rippled and pulsed as it seared onto the body of the man, fading into his own skin in places, forming a warped second skin in others.
Then it was done. The glow dissipated, the spiral of colors faded back into the stone, the last echoes of the chant dropped away into memory. The flames in their braziers leapt up once again, casting their light on the hunched figure within the circle atop the dais. He had fallen, though not fully collapsed, kneeling in a crouch with his head low.
“Rise,” the red-skinned demon said, and this time the voice was deep and full, not his own.
The sorcerer stood. His appearance was more or less what it was, at least if one didn’t look too clearly at the places on his body where the skin seemed to bulge out slightly, as if he were wearing an ill-fitting garment. But his eyes... they shone with a glow of twin flames, and it was not just a reflection of the lights in the chamber. The glow came from within.
He strode out of the circle.
“Hail, Acolyte of the Skin,” the demon said, in that deep, familiar voice.
Delem smiled.
END OF BOOK VI
Slowly, the heavy doors opened.
The sorcerer walked through even before the portals had stopped moving, the thick slabs of black stone moving seemingly of their own volition, for no creature could be seen pushing at them from within. His steps were silent on the stone floor, for he wore no boots, in fact wore no garments at all. The air was hot, and sticky with dampness, and the man wore a sheen of sweat across his bare body. But if the sorcerer paid no heed to his surroundings, and when he stepped on a broken piece of stone flooring, opening a shallow gash in the sole of his foot, he neither flinched nor changed his pace. Footprints splayed out in fresh blood were left in his wake, marking a grim trail as he strode into the chamber beyond the doors.
He walked down a set of broad, slightly curving stone steps that descended into a broad chamber fashioned in the shape of an octagon. Energetic red flames danced in braziers of tarnished bronze set into the stone around the perimeter of the chamber, casting everything in a harsh, ruddy glow. The ceiling rose in tiers to a point somewhere high above, lost in shadow.
The center of the place was dominated by a dais formed of three steps, each higher than the last, forming a platform at least six feet above the floor of the chamber. Atop the dais a ring of slender pillars fashioned of a black, dull metal curved inward to converge just shy of touching, like a set of claws rising up from the very rock. Within that ring the stone of the dais was carved with a swirling, garish blend of hard colors that seemed to be a part of the floor, comprising together a design that served both to attract the eye and make one a bit queasy at the same time. Beside the pillars and the floor design stood several stone biers, solid slabs of plain gray rock that looked plain beside the adjacent display.
The room was not unoccupied. Standing on the edge of the platform was a tall, lean demon, its skin colored a fiery red, its features otherwise appearing human save for its overly large mouth and the slight ridges visible along its hairless skull. It was clad in a cloak that was the color of blood, which swirled slightly around its body despite that fact that no breeze stirred the chamber.
There were others as well, shadowy forms that kept to the edges of the room. The sorcerer paid them no heed. He was not here, but the man could almost feel the familiar presence around him, watching.
His lips twisted into a sneer as he walked up to the edge of the dais, standing before the tall demon perched on its edge like a vulture waiting for his prey to expire. The demon matched his expression, but there was something in his eyes, an edge as it regarded the human standing boldly before it.
“Are you prepared to accept the power that is being offered you this day, manling?” the demon rasped.
The man did not reply, but he climbed the steps up to the dais, and when he shifted his eyes to regard the demon, they were cold, empty.
“You must make this choice of your own free will,” the demon said, its tone mocking. “You can turn away and leave this place, if you wish, at any moment.”
The human turned to face the demon, and a look of contempt appeared on his features. “Bring on your test, demon, and be done with it.”
The demon turned away, and gestured. A shadowy form emerged from the edges of the chamber, resolving into a hunched, massive form that approached and clambered up atop the dais. It was a hezrou, the twisted intelligence that shone in its eyes belied by the horror of its appearance. As the red-skinned demon pointed it moved into the circle in the center of the dais reluctantly but inexorably.
The demon began to chant, and as he spoke, each foul syllable hanging in the air like a cloud of smoke, the room seemed to darken, the lights around the perimeter fading as if the words were choking off their supply of air. A new source of light appeared around the metal pylons, however, a hazy, deep glow that was a mélange of dark colors, and the pattern in the floor began to shift, swimming in a dizzying spiral through the very stone. The demon twisted back, staggering if drunk, trying reflexively to claw its way out of the circle. The way was unbarred, but it could not escape, trapped in the matrix of energies released by the dark chant.
And then, in a new horror, the demon began to scream, a terrible sound, and with each new burst of sound its skin began to peel back off its body in huge slabs, revealing muscle and organs beneath. As the light touched the innards of its putrid form they began to smoke and dissolve, as if acid had been poured upon them. The shrieks intensified for a moment, seeming to shake the very walls, and then, abruptly, they stopped.
The red-skinned demon continued its chant, and shot a sideways glance at the human. The sorcerer had stood still throughout the ritual, impassive, although the terrible barrage of sights and sounds would have driven many a mortal man hopelessly mad. No emotion whatsoever shone in his dark eyes, however, nothing save a reflection of the flames around the edges of the chambers.
The inner stuff of the demon had boiled away, leaving only a sick pile of greasy leavings in the center of the circle, and the demon’s hide, hovering in the air above the still-spinning pattern.
The demon finished its chant. “The power is yours to take, human.”
Without hesitation the sorcerer stepped forward into the circle. The ring blazed a nimbus of fire around him as he passed between the metal pylons, but the flames died away an instant later as he stepped forward onto the swirling pattern. The pattern’s colors twisted and distorted where his bare feet touched the stone, sending out black tendrils through the spiral. The sorcerer turned and faced the demon, which began once again its dark chant.
Suddenly, as if it was a living thing, the skin of the demon, hovering above the form of the man, lashed down and wrapped itself around his naked body. The man lurched and his head snapped up, his jaw open in a soundless scream. The demonic hide rippled and pulsed as it seared onto the body of the man, fading into his own skin in places, forming a warped second skin in others.
Then it was done. The glow dissipated, the spiral of colors faded back into the stone, the last echoes of the chant dropped away into memory. The flames in their braziers leapt up once again, casting their light on the hunched figure within the circle atop the dais. He had fallen, though not fully collapsed, kneeling in a crouch with his head low.
“Rise,” the red-skinned demon said, and this time the voice was deep and full, not his own.
The sorcerer stood. His appearance was more or less what it was, at least if one didn’t look too clearly at the places on his body where the skin seemed to bulge out slightly, as if he were wearing an ill-fitting garment. But his eyes... they shone with a glow of twin flames, and it was not just a reflection of the lights in the chamber. The glow came from within.
He strode out of the circle.
“Hail, Acolyte of the Skin,” the demon said, in that deep, familiar voice.
Delem smiled.
END OF BOOK VI
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