When Elves Die : Episode One, Page 4

CHAPTER 4

 

  The old lady dragged Tholan’s unconscious body to the center of the dark chamber, his feet leaving a trail on the dusty floor.

  She carelessly dropped him to the ground and the barbarian bounced off the floor with a meaty thud.

  Lighting the candles one by one, the old lady gazed upon the statue of a minotaur-like figure. It stood about eight feet tall with horns curling out from the side of its head.

  She bowed her head in veneration for several minutes before returning to the body of Tholan.

  With strength that belied her age, she picked the barbarian up by his shoulders and heaved him on top of the altar, laying him flat. The old woman then ripped open his tunic, revealing his bare chest.

  Tholan’s head lolled to the side and back again.

  Ravalynn stepped into the room. She glided past the old lady and stood above Tholan.

  The old woman removed a goblet from the altar and raised it above her head. Whispering a prayer, she placed the cup down next to the barbarian.

  Ravalynn raised a dagger high above her head. She looked down at the barbarian's exposed chest and murmured indecipherable words. Her chant grew louder until it reached a shrill pitch that could freeze blood.

  She closed her eyes and lowered the dagger, blindly tracing the edge of the blade from Tholan's neck down to his chest.

  The old lady dipped her thumb into a vial of oil. She applied it to the barbarian's forehead and chest, making a circle and crossing it through in both places.

  The candle flames blew out as the statue began vibrating. The old lady looked on in awe as the sculpture began to glow, illuminating the room in a purple light.

  “Witness,” Ravalynn whispered into Tholan’s ear. “The consequences of failure.”

  The barbarian's eyes remained closed but his head rolled from side to side.

  The Dark Queen raised both of her arms to the side. Tilting her neck back, her eyes rolled over white as if she were becoming possessed.

  Tholan’s head shook violently as if he were fighting a desperate battle in his mind.

  Moments later, he sprang up and screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Tholan’s eyelids fluttered and he dropped back down on the slab. Sweat now soaked his tunic and his body writhed as if it were on fire.

  “There, there,” Ravalynn said. “That is only what happens if your mission is met with failure. I have found fear to be a great motivator.”

  The Dark Queen ran her hands over his eyes.

  “But see yourself as the victor. And you will not fail.”

  Tholan’s body went lax. His breathing became more measured.

  “I give you, Tholan.” The Dark Queen addressed the minotaur-like statue. “He was the finest warrior in all of Darksbane. He will retrieve the book of Arcanscape so I can restore you to power. I will be the conduit for you to once again rule this rotten earth.”

  The candles burned off then on repeatedly as the statue rocked back and forth.

  “Tholan has murdered hundreds. He has given lifetimes of grief to thousands. He will serve you well.”

  Tholan’s body levitated off the slab.

  Excited, the Dark Queen moved to the side of his body and raised her dagger.

  “I beg of you to possess his spirit,“ she said. “Make him like he was. Heartless. Ruthless. Strong.”

  She sliced the dagger across his chest. With expert precision, she cut and carved the symbol of a pentagram into his flesh. His blood dripped into the goblet.

  The purple light grew brighter then faded out. The statue stopped shaking.

  After a moment, the candles flickered back to life.

  Tholan's eyes opened when he dropped back down on the slab. His eyes adjusting to the dim light, his chest throbbed in pain.

  The barbarian looked down at his scarred pectorals in confusion.

  “I performed surgery on your spirit,” she said. “Sympathy and compassion no longer reside in your heart. I cut all of that poison out of you.”

  Tholan sat up wearily and stood on his feet.

  “You are once again Tholan the Feared.”

  The barbarian gave her a searching glance. Still confused, he walked over to the mirror at the side of the altar. His tunic could now barely restrain the increased size of his biceps and shoulders. Tholan marveled at his reflection and flexed his rejuvenated muscles.

  “You are as you once were,” she said. “A born again butcher.”

  The Dark Queen walked behind him and fingered the scarred pentagram on his chest. No bleeding, no recent evidence of what she had done. He would bear her cross of darkness forever.

  “You will grow even stronger over the coming days,” she said. “You will be able to fight for hours. Run for miles at top speed. You will be impervious to pain. You will be unstoppable.”

  Needing no further encouragement, Tholan let loose with an ear-splitting battle-cry.