All content Copyright © 2011 Burrows

Artwork by Phil McDonnall and

Dale Ziemianski (Drachar’s Demons)

All rights reserved D Burrows

  Book of the month         Gold Award

Chapter 1

Lothanal was in a sour mood. He had been searching his cluttered laboratory for a while now and no matter where he looked he couldn’t find his kara-stone. Flipping a book on a bench in anger he then spun around, his patience wearing dangerously thin. In the corner of the room an imp struggled against the spell of binding confining it. Their eyes locked and Lothanal swallowed his growing rage.

“Be still!” he snapped, but the creature continued to squirm. “Bah,” he snorted, turning to resume his search. He could have commanded the imp to reveal the stone’s whereabouts but this had become a personal challenge. No one else was allowed in the room so the stone must be where he last left it. Trouble was, he was an untidy man as demonstrated by the current state of his laboratory.

He continued fumbling in the semi-dark, using the green glow cast by the imp to see his way. It was dark and gloomy, just the way he liked it. Others would have been terrified in the imp’s presence. Not Lothanal. He was a master of his art and the imp’s confining spell was the best in the land. Not that any one else would dare to summon an imp. In this matter Lothanal was charting virgin territory.

Behind him, the imp started to mewl. This immediately grated on his nerves, as did the smell. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Why demons stank, he did not know. It was an unfathomable mystery. He shook his head in irritation and casually brushed long, dark hair from his eyes.

Imps were such bizarre creatures. They were lesser demons, lacking in power compared to a full fledged demon and nothing more than a lackey to their more powerful masters. Each was no larger than a fox and hairless apart from a mane of green hair running down their spine. Teeth, talons and plague. They were all part of an imp’s arsenal; all equally nasty. This one was no exception.

Its skin was a sickly shade of green and its limbs were long and skinny. It squatted on a stool in indignation, blinking its cat-like eyes as it stared hate-filled at Lothanal. A thin tongue flickered from its mouth, revealing small pointed teeth.

Perhaps Lothanal was not so different from the imp. He, too, was a loner. He was considered something of a conundrum by his peers. From a distance, his face was handsome and youthful, yet his mannerisms were those of a much older man. Close-up, however, his looks were marred. His nose and cheeks were pock-marked from some childhood illness. Not that he cared about his looks or his appearance for that matter.

Lothanal was far from popular. People avoided his surly manner and condescending looks. He had no time for others. His work was all that mattered and at the moment he was on the brink of the greatest challenge of his career. He had far more important things to think about and he despised other men for their incessant preening.

“Be still!” he snapped at the creature, his patience taxed to the breaking point. A rigid V formed between his eyes as he glared at the imp.

Ignoring his command, the imp continued to struggle, its eyes fastened on his in challenge. Lothanal snorted in derision and looked away. The creature hissed in frustration. Lothanal had one thing to be grateful for. That it chose not to speak. Imps’ voices sounded like chalk scraping across a dry blackboard. As he searched the room, going from drawer to drawer, Lothanal glimpsed the imp casting him a baleful look, a threat of what might happen if it were to ever break free.

Anyone else would have been terrified by the imp’s presence. However, Lothanal was supremely unconcerned. His spell was well formed and he was confident it would not escape. The imp knew this also, but goading him was its childish way of attempting to distract Lothanal. If he made a mistake, then it would confine him, and drag his soul to hell for his impudence. The thought was preposterous, however. It was only an imp, after all.

“Ah, I have it!” Lothanal exclaimed in triumph, a rare smile betraying his usually stern countenance. Partially concealed beneath a pile of books was the kara-stone. Scooping it up, he reverently admired its perfection. To anyone else it was but a stone—beautifully formed, but otherwise a fairly nondescript and normal stone. Lothanal waved a hand over its milky whiteness. Immediately a glow sprang forth, softly spilling into the shadows.

The imp’s wailing increased as though it was offended by the stone’s light. But Lothanal ignored it, walking instead to a stout oak table where he thrust away a scattering of spell books before carefully laying the stone down. Arranging his robes, he sat on a high stool and then traced a rune, muttering words of power. An image swiftly appeared in the heart of the stone and the white glow was replaced by a darker shade, matching that of the imp, which had fallen silent in fear.  

Green, the colour of demons.

Lothanal’s brow knitted in concentration. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and started to hum, as he often did when thinking. Further runes followed in quick succession. Gradually, the image scrolled across the orb as he searched a stark landscape. The world he beheld was completely barren. He knew it was not night—for no sunlight ever transgressed this forbidden realm. No fauna or vegetation covered the infertile soil. To all intents, it was dead.

Then they were there.

Demons.

Not inconsequential demons like the imp, but full-fledged creatures of immense power. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see the creatures more clearly, but it was difficult to discern detail in the vague light. With difficulty, he made out the forms of five demons that had gathered at his summons. Strangely, he could feel their strength even though he was simply viewing their world.

They, too, seemed to sense him. There was an eagerness about them. His heart raced, realising that they were keen to honour the agreement he had previously proposed.

“Tell them I wish to continue our discussion,” he commanded the imp. His voice was flat, lacking in emotion. He looked up at the imp. When nothing happened, his scowl was sufficient to cause the imp to recoil.

Before he could command it further, a voice echoed about the room.

“Hold,” it said. “We have seen enough!”

Startled, Lothanal’s eyes went to the source of the voice, but apart from the imp and himself, there was no one else present in the room. Clearly, whomever was spying on him was using sorcery.

“You’ve betrayed me,” he shouted at the imp, standing so quickly that he knocked over his stool. It clattered to the floor, shattering the still silence as the door to his laboratory burst asunder. Splinters of wood soared like tiny daggers through the air, shattering glass vials and bottles stacked precariously on the high shelves, spilling their contents to the already cluttered floor.

Lothanal ducked instinctively, raising his hands to protect his face. He cried out as splinters dug into his flesh. His ears rang. Bright motes danced before his eyes. When he looked up, guards had flooded into the room, accompanied by two figures wearing robes matching his. One was a man; the other was a woman.

Sorcerers!

For a wild moment Lothanal considered fighting, but being in the heart of Namthrall, his home city, that choice seemed very unwise. The soldiers looked like brutes. They smelled of leather and oil. Long blades gleamed wickedly in the soft light and Lothanal swallowed hard. One man’s eyes locked on his in challenge. He was so close Lothanal could smell the garlic on his breath. His stance was clear. Move and die.

The two sorcerers paused at one side. The man raised his hand in warning.

“Don’t even consider it,” he threatened. His voice was a low growl, full of menace.

“How quaint! Lord Stephan and his crony Lady Ashona,” Lothanal smirked. Of all the people who might have discovered him, Stephan was the worst. They had been rivals for many years and it galled Lothanal that Stephan was the one to discover his foray into the demon world.

Ashona was nothing; a mere slip of a girl who couldn’t even challenge an angry ant. That she dared to oppose him only served to fuel his anger. His head was spinning with thoughts; his mind buzzing with anxiety. Why they were together he couldn’t fathom. They were chalk and cheese. How many others knew of his betrayal? For that is what they would consider it. A betrayal of their mundane and feeble existence.

“I should have known it would have been you two.” He cast the imp a look, suggesting a reckoning was due. The imp could save him and he was reluctant to banish it. His hands were shaking, whether from anger or fear even he did not know. If it had betrayed him then he could not trust it to do his bidding. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed it.

Using his teeth he extracted a splinter from his palm and then spat it onto the floor, all the while staring in fury at the assembled group. White light from beyond the shattered door flooded the room. He glared at the mess the explosion had caused. How he hated these two meddlesome magic users. His emotions must have shown on his face, for Ashona took a step back. He cast a withering glance in her direction, one that he hoped would promise future retribution. She stared back, small, dark-haired with round, liquid, deer-like eyes. By her side, Stephan took a step forward. He was the stronger of the two and always so self-righteous. Piety was ever a fault of the Eldric.

“You have betrayed your people,” Stephan announced, as though seeking to draw his anger away from Ashona. The act made Lothanal smile. Oblivious, the fool continued speaking. “Use of elementals is accepted. But demons? You go too far.”

Lothanal couldn’t help but retort, “How dare you lecture me! Elementals are for children. They are nothing compared to the power of the demon world.”

Stephan’s face darkened and his eyes half closed. “You do not belong here. By your very actions, you are an outcast. Even your shaol betrays you.”

Lothanal sneered, although he had no idea what Stephan was referring to. He had never heard of a shaol, but he refused to admit his ignorance. Let them think what they want. They could not hold him. This was not the end.

“Take him to the dungeons,” Stephan commanded. The guards stepped forward, their swords poised in readiness. Lothanal glanced around just as Stephan scooped up his kara-stone, a look of satisfaction on his smug face.

Lothanal closed his eyes in frustration. He would not see it again, and kara-stones were damned hard to find. Again, he considered fighting his way clear, but then he smiled. His people, the Eldric, were soft. He would soon be free, although banishment was likely. He tried to lighten his mood. He had been thinking of leaving, in any event. The unexpected invasion of his privacy merely served to hasten his plans.

Walking from the room, he cast Ashona a scowl for good measure, causing her to recoil in obvious fright. Together, the armed procession took him to the dungeons and a fate that he was determined to control.

“Damn him,” Chanathan said. “What was he thinking?”

Ashona watched the other man pacing the room. She and Stephan were sitting in deep arm chairs. She felt comfortable in the armchair’s deep embrace, but troubled. Something niggled at the back of her mind. A worry she could not put clear thought to. She dismissed it, too exhausted by her recent experience to chase shadows; shocked that one of her own kind could sink so low.

“Unfortunately, he’s been dealing with imps and possibly watching the demon world for some time,” Stephan was saying.

“But why?” asked Chanathan. He stood by the window. It was dark outside and his reflection was trapped by the candlelight in the thick window pane.

“Power,” Ashona piped up. The other two turned to look at her and she felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny. She tried to subdue her feelings. “I could feel the power in the room even before we entered. Of one thing Lothanal spoke truthfully, the imp was a powerful creature, far more so than an elemental.”

“We know that,” Stephan replied.

“We may know it,” Ashona said. “But this is the first time any of us has experienced it. I have never seen an imp before and I could feel its menace. It hated us. It wanted nothing more than to kill and then steal our souls. Did you not feel that too, Stephan?”

Stephen shook his head. He looked bewildered. “I am amazed at your perception, but I felt none of that. However, there was no doubt that the imp was evil. That much I could tell, at least.”

“Why does he want power though? That doesn’t make sense. Elementals give us enough for our modest requirements. To go seeking more from demons is… It’s just crazy! Does he not know the danger he puts us all in? If he summoned one beyond his control the entire city would be in dire peril,” noted Chanathan.

“That’s the problem,” said Stephan. He doesn’t think. I’ve warned him often enough but he is drawn to that world like a lamb to its mother’s teat.”

“Then what should we do?” asked Chanathan.

Ashona glanced at Stephan and he looked back at her. He was a good-looking man and they had been friends for many years. But this was the first time that she had ever seen him so uncertain. She knew that Chanathan needed an answer before dawn, for the king would need to be informed, but they simply didn’t have one.

“He will be banished,” Stephan answered at last.

Chanathan spun on his heel to face him, “By the Kalanth! Is that it? With the power he could control and all we can think to do is to banish him. And what then? Wait for him to return…at the head of a demon army?”

“There is another option,” Ashona hesitated. “A rune,” she continued. “One of such complexity it will take at least a day to cast. Four times four, using each of the elementals: air, fire, land and water.”

“To what aim?” Chanathan demanded. He was a tall, slender man. His receding hair was grey at the temple and, at the moment, a frown furrowed his brow. In his presence Ashona was uncertain of herself for he was a close advisor to the king.

“To turn any spell Lothanal uses in upon itself,” she replied.

Chanathan sucked in a breath in disbelief and wonder. “Can it be done?”

“Yes,” Ashona said. “I think so.” She turned to Stephan who was staring back at her with a look of surprise on his face.

His eyes widened. “Of course!” he exclaimed. It’s brilliant.”

“You agree that it can be done?” Ashona asked hesitantly. She had been afraid to voice the option, not quite certain it could be achieved. She felt that it could be done, but hearing Stephan confirm it was encouraging.

“Yes, but you are correct. The spell is complex,” he said, carefully.

“See to it. His trial will be in two days time and if he is guilty we will then perform the spell,” Chanathan said.

“Come on Ash,” said Stephan. “We’d better get some sleep if we are to attempt this.” Together they departed, leaving Chanathan pacing the room. He was deeply troubled. That an Eldric Lord had fallen so far from grace was a bad omen.

“Wake up, Salar!”

Salar groaned, pulling his blanket over his head. “Go away,” he mumbled. “It’s far too early.”

With a wrench, the blanket was pulled down and for a moment there ensued a tug-of-war. Finally, wide awake, Salar sat up, rubbing his eyes. He peered into the flickering flame of a candle held to close to his face. He screwed his eyes nearly shut against the offending light and his lips drew back, revealing the crookedness of his teeth which he normally tried so hard to hide. When talking to people, he tended to lower his head to hide his teeth’s unsightliness and as a result was often accused of mumbling.

“What on earth is going on, Forfar? This had better be important,” he warned.

Forfar stared back, a look of apprehension in his eyes. He, too, was an apprentice and both youths were in their fourth year of study. It was a relatively easy existence for the young men, with plenty of time reserved for study…or a lie in.

“It’s your master. He’s been arrested,” Forfar said, wasting no time and coming straight to the point.

That caught Salar’s attention. “What? How can that be? What is the charge?”

“Looking into the demon world.”

“Is that all?” the words were out before Salar realised what he had said. “I mean, we use elementals. How bad can it be just looking into their world?”

Forfar shook his head. “Be very careful what you say. Simply being his apprentice could implicate you in his crimes. At the moment, you don’t sound very innocent,” he warned. “Have you looked upon the demon world?”

Salar shook his head, not able to trust his voice. “Why would I want to do that?” he countered. He knew it was wrong, but he was keen to learn from his master.

“Why indeed? We Eldric have been in this land for two hundred years. We exiled ourselves from our own country for this very reason. Demons are evil and dealing with them can only lead to war. They want souls. There is no other bargaining tool. Would you damn someone to an eternity of agony in their world, and for what?”

“Of course not!” Salar snapped.

“We are friends, you and I. Heed my advice. Distance yourself from Lothanal. Otherwise, you will share in his fate.”

Forfar’s penetrating stare shamed Salar, but he was not about to betray his master so easily. “What will happen to him?” he asked.

“Today we will draw a rune that will turn any spell Lothanal might cast against himself. He will be utterly powerless, lest he destroy himself.”

Salar nodded. “I’ll dress and then join you.”

Lothanal sat on the hard bench peering into the gloom and humming softly. Thoughts tumbled through his mind, all mixed up and making no sense. Other men in his predicament would have been bowed down by the dark, dank nature of the cell, but instead Lothanal’s thoughts were angry.

How could he be locked in a cell? And caught by that imbecile, Stephan and… what’s her name? Ashona. Lord and Lady, but of what? His people were a race of idiots, capable of thinking no further than the next minor function: tea with friends, a ball, various minor and very annoying holidays.

What a waste! Such a great nation! No ambition.

A flicker of movement distracted him. A guard peered in, his face smug. Lothanal wanted to pummel that face. How dare he watch his confinement? He would show them. Then the guard was gone.

Tracing a rune, he spoke softly, “Salar! Are you there?”

“Master, I can hear you,” came a faint reply.

“What’s happening? Will they banish me?”

“Certainly. But that is not the problem.”

“Go on.”

“They are drawing a rune today that will prevent you casting spells. Supposedly, it will turn a spell in upon itself…”

“What! Can such a thing be done?” asked Lothanal.

“Stephan says so. He is in charge. Stop talking, I’m being watched,” came Salar’s whispered reply.

Lothanal felt the blood drain from his face and his heart laboured, so great was the shock. Gently, he rocked back and forth, sitting on his hands. He had been so certain he would be banished, nothing more. He must escape, he realised.

Rising, he went to his cell door, but the opening didn’t allow much of a view, so instead he was forced to listen. There were clear signs of people close by: muffled voices, footfalls followed by the scrape of a chair. He assumed there would be a sizable guard posted in the event of an attempted escape.

He must think. He threw himself onto the bench and almost immediately a thought occurred. It was brilliant. Tracing a rune he spoke again into the night, “Salar. Salar…”

Nothing.

With deft motion he drew the rune again, “Salar!”

“Speak swiftly, master,” whispered Salar.

“You must alter the rune in such a way as to be undetectable. Using a dead scanth, replace a dot anywhere in the rune with the insect.”

There was a moment’s pause. “A scanth?” came the stunned reply.

“Just do it!” hissed Lothanal. The link was severed. He felt it wink from existence.

Lothanal sat back. Salar had to complete the task. Otherwise, his spell casting days were over. The use of a scanth was masterful in its simplicity. A flaw in the rune was the main aim to defeating it, but the body of a dead insect was so much more useful. He could control that, especially with his links to the demons. Keep it simple, he always advised Salar. Never overcomplicate anything. That was the mistake his enemies were making. A complex rune was so much harder to achieve than putting him to death, and that’s what they should have done. It was what he would have done in their position.

The scanth, small, black and shiny, from a few paces away, would easily be mistaken for part of a rune. Or was he kidding himself? All that night, doubt gnawed at Lothanal and sleep was a long time in coming. Stephan’s comments that his shaol had betrayed him kept going through his mind. He was determined to find out what a shaol was.

Damn them all! He would survive!

Chapter 2

Lothanal stood before the assembled sorcerers. He was incensed that his hands were bound before him like a common criminal. Behind him stood several armed guards and he keenly felt their glares on his back.

Trying to ignore them, Lothanal glanced around the room, his anger swiftly being replaced by boredom. He longed to be on his own, away from the prying eyes of all these nosey busybodies. His gaze drifted to the farthest end of the room. There, in an alcove, sat Darwyl, the king, wearing his crown and robes of state. By his side sat Prince Ellard, watching the proceedings with an air of disdain.

Darwyl, who had been king for nearly thirty years, presided over a golden reign and his subjects loved him for this. Trade was good and their had been no wars. That he was so loved was surprising, Lothanal thought. He was a king who had achieved nothing, apart from being born! His reign would have been golden with or without him. He had actually done nothing except being born at an opportune time.

Next to Ellard, Lothanal recognised Cralan, the king’s lifelong friend and advisor. They were both in their mid-forties, but the difference between them was marked. Where Cralan looked old, with his grey hair and loose jowls, Darwyl appeared much more youthful. He could even have passed for Ellard’s brother, rather than his father. His dark hair harboured only a few flecks of grey, and those, somehow, just made him look more regal.

Lothanal turned his gaze away, feeling rage surfacing. He must not let them see his anger. His mind continued to buzz. It was so hard to concentrate. He hated them all. Looking around, his gaze fell on the rune. It was painted black against the marble surface and its complexity was stunning. Lothanal cast a critical eye over it, seeking an error—however small. His heart laboured. He couldn’t recognise and decipher it all. However, the parts he did recognise looked annoyingly perfect.

Frantically, he sought Salar, his apprentice, from amongst the many faces. The assembly room was in two tiers. Folk stared down from the balcony and the ground floor, craning their necks to get a glimpse of him. Had Salar placed a scanth into the design? If he had, then there was still a chance.

At that moment, Stephan walked onto the floor. Silence descended. Hatred flooded through Lothanal as he watched the other man strut before the king. Stephan was always so perfect and smug. They had studied in the same class at college and Lothanal knew Stephan’s limitations. He had met brighter bugs. It was so annoying to be judged by such a man.

“Your Majesty,” Stephan began. He looked the part of a betrayer as his eyes turned to meet Lothanal’s. Stephan was an annoyingly good-looking man, but to Lothanal’s pleasure that morning he looked weary. His close-cropped hair was dishevelled and stubble showed that he had not shaved that morning.

“Some while ago, I had a warning that Lothanal might be contacting demons. Assuming the worst, we set a spell of seeing in his laboratory. Two nights ago, we watched him contact the demon world.”

Voices cried out from the audience. Stephan and the others had to wait for order to be restored.

Darwyl looked thoughtful, “How did you know he was contacting demons?” he asked.

Lothanal leaned forward. He had assumed that the imp had betrayed him. Now he would find out for certain. For a moment, he saw doubt on Stephan’s face, as though he was unsure of how to proceed. Then, he seemed to make up his mind. Skirting the rune, he walked towards the king. His footsteps echoed on the marble. Sunlight streamed through tall glass windows making Stephan’s shadow caress the rune as he went forward.

Finally, he stood before the king. “Majesty...” Even at this distance Lothanal could hear him clearly. They must have used sorcery to enhance sound in the large auditorium, which explained the constant rustle of clothes as people fidgeted. Lothanal looked around the balcony, hating each person in turn. That they were watching his trial, simply for their amusement, galled him.

Stephan was talking again and Lothanal turned his attention back to the proceedings, all the while vowing to have revenge. “I have studied the people of the land and they have a belief about shaols,” Stephan explained.

Lothanal frowned. There it was again! Another mention of a shaol. He was intrigued to know more.

“Go on,” the king encouraged.

“The people believe that a shaol is a guardian spirit that watches over us.”

A murmur went around the assembly, but when the king looked up, it subsided. “And how did this warn you about Lothanal and the demons?” the king asked, looking somewhat puzzled. Lothanal was equally mystified. This sounded like a child’s tale.

“A shaol manifests itself as a sixth sense. That is why some people are forewarned of danger. Lady Ashona,” Stephan continued, looking around for his colleague, “I believe, has an uncommonly strong link to her shaol.”

Again, muttering followed Stephan’s remarks.  Lothanal looked for Ashona and found her seated to the right of the king, her eyes downcast, clearly not enjoying the attention of so many people. Lothanal’s thoughts were in turmoil. So, the imp had not betrayed him after all.

 “I have been interested in the concept of a shaol for many years and for a while now I have been studying Ash’s. She seems to have a heightened sense of danger as well as a strong feeling of events that have already transpired, like walking into a room you have never entered before and knowing the layout,” Stephan explained.

“Many of us have that feeling,” the king said, smiling.

Stephan nodded. “I think that is a shaol, seeing events before we experience them and conveying a feeling of recognition.”

“So what does this have to do with Lothanal? He is an Eldric Lord. Bringing him to trial should not be done lightly.”

“This is a sham, not a trial,” Lothanal shouted, pointing at the rune. “You’ve found me guilty before this trial started. Otherwise, this rune would not have been cast.” Lothanal felt himself shake, so great was his rage.

“Silence!” the king warned. “Continue, Lord Stephan.”

“Ash told me she was having nightmares—nightmares involving demons. I would not normally be concerned. After all, nightmares are common. ‘But, why demons?’ I asked myself.”

Stephan turned to address the onlookers. “She persuaded me that the nightmares were too vivid to ignore. So, I conducted an experiment. I asked her to sleep in various rooms about the citadel, staying with friends for a night or two. Her dreams were always worse in the northwest quarter, where Lothanal’s laboratory is situated. At first, I was at a loss as to precisely how to pinpoint the cause of Ash’s nightmares. Then, I positioned servants with lamps about key points in the northwest quarter.”

“Why lamps?” the king asked. Lothanal had also wanted to ask that question. A frown furrowed his brow.

“According to folklore, flames burn blue in a demon’s presence,” explained Stephan.

The king nodded, “And cream sours,” he added.

“That is also legend,” Stephan agreed.

“But, why are there no tales about demons now?” continued the king. “Why is it folk lore?” he asked.

“In the past, demons used to plague this land. Their world is separated from ours by a void. At regular intervals, the worlds come close together. Then, the void is sufficiently thin for them to cross. It is at these times demon attacks occur.”

“Is that why Lothanal is keen to contact them?” the king asked, a frown knotting his brow.

“I believe it is, Majesty. I believe the void is thinning. Soon, demons will once more come to harvest souls.”

People shouted out in shock. It took a while for calm to be restored. “That is terrible news,” the king said, after the din had subsided.

“It is, Your Majesty. But attacks will be both rare and random. Only the strongest demon can cross. However, with help, many more could cross over.”

“So, how did Lady Ashona know that Lothanal was contacting demons? What was affecting her dreams?” the king asked, looking somewhat puzzled.

“There, we have the heart of the problem,” Stephan said. “I think Lothanal’s shaol was so horrified by what it was witnessing that it contacted another person’s shaol, seeking help. Ash, having an uncommonly strong link with her shaol, sensed this.”

Stephan turned to face Lothanal. “In effect, I believe Lothanal’s own shaol betrayed him, terrified by what he was doing. The torches helped to confirm the location, since only those near Lothanal’s laboratory turned blue.”

Voices were raised once more in disbelief.

“This is a fairy tale,” Lothanal shouted above the din, sensing that he could turn this to his advantage.

The king looked at him and for the first time Lothanal felt fear grip his soul.

“Whether shaols exist or not is immaterial, although from what I have heard I find the matter intriguing. However, far greater matters are at hand. Stephan,” the king said, facing the other man, “once you were certain which room seemed to trigger Lady Ashona’s nightmares, what did you do next?” the king asked.

“Ash and I managed to gain entry, early one morning. We cast both a spell of seeing and a glyph of concealment. Then, all we had to do then was to wait. And our timing was crucial, it seems.”

“Why was that?” the king asked.

“Up until then, I believe Lothanal had mainly been summoning an imp. The image we saw was of an early negotiation with the demons. They were waiting for him and I believe he was seeking a pact. To make matters worse, it was clear that this was not the first time that he had spoken with them.”

Darwyl’s gaze fell on Lothanal. Again, anger flooded through Lothanal and he struggled with his bonds.

“Is this true?” the king demanded.

Lothanal could contain his anger no longer. He knew he was doomed and there was no point in denial. “Yes, of course it’s true! Were you not listening? I was spied upon by your cronies after all.”

A murmur echoed around the room. Darwyl raised a hand for silence and gradually the room quieted.

“Why? You are an Eldric Lord. You want for nothing. What do you seek in the demon world?” asked the astonished king.

Lothanal remained silent. His anger had burned itself out and now he was afraid, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

“By your own words, you have condemned yourself,” Darwyl continued. “Others have sought advancement through demons. That is the very reason we left our homeland. As we have heard, soon demon attacks will occur. There is precious little we can do about that. That is a tragedy, but your intent is much more serious. Any pact with the demons will involve souls—and lots of them, I would guess.”

The king sat back as though considering his options. “You will be banished from Eldric lands. Your name, Lothanal, is taken from you. Drachar I name you—unhomed. However, we cannot let you wander freely, given the power that you control. Given the seriousness of your intended crime, a spell will be cast to prevent your use of sorcery. Lord Stephan, please proceed.”

Sixteen sorcerers took their places at points about the rune. Lothanal recognised Chanathan and Ashona amongst them, but knew few others. Salar was not there. Being an apprentice, that wasn’t surprising.

Stephan nodded and together the sorcerers traced runes. Fire, air, water, and earth elementals burst briefly into view. Their thin voices filled the silence.

Lothanal felt his heart race. He did not know what to expect but he kept himself still. The tiny elementals danced in frenzy around their allotted space. The air seemed to crackle with the spell’s power. Throughout the casting the elementals’ voices rose and fell. Then, abruptly, they stopped and the elementals winked out of existence.

“Is that it?” Lothanal sneered.

Stephan traced a rune and cast it at Lothanal who fell to his knees, a cry escaping his lips.

“Yes, that appears to be it,” Stephan declared.

Lothanal climbed with difficulty to his feet, hating Stephan’s smug look. “Then remember me. This is not the last time we will meet.

“I take your new name, Drachar,” Lothanal said, addressing the king with all the menace he could muster, “but not in the spirit in which you give it to me. I take it without shame. I name myself Drachar. It is a name that you will learn to dread, Darwyl, king of a banished people. I curse you. I curse your son. I curse the Eldric people, their children, and their grandchildren. This is not the last you will hear of me!”

Lothanal grimaced as the guards grabbed his arms, pulling him from the room. He nearly stumbled, twisting his ankle as he turned. Around him, the people’s voices were filled with alarm at his pronouncement. He allowed himself a smile. He had unsettled the gentle folk. If Salar had accomplished his task, soon Lothanal would do more than unsettle them.

Shadows filled the Hall of Judgement as Lothanal was dragged from the room, but no shadow could ever be darker than the soul of Drachar, and no light could possibly hope to penetrate his twisted mind.