“I’ve found it, brother!”
“Found what?”
“The end of our search!”
“Tell me.”
Talub straightened and stood tall in the doorway, his usual slouch gone. He fidgeted excitedly, a bad habit, Markos thought. The usually reticent Talub seemed ready to burst at the seams.
“I’ve opened a portal to another plane…a spirit realm, and I’ve been communicating with a higher being!” Talub actually hopped a little as he blurted out his words.
Marcos smiled, almost laughed, at the young mage-in-training. “You’ve opened a portal to a spirit realm…by yourself?”
“Yes! It’s all I’ve been able to manage on my own. I can only speak to him, and hear him speak to me…but with more…”
“Speak with who?”
“Arm.”
Marcos leaned forward in his chair, and motioned for Talub to take the seat across the desk from him. As the smaller man moved to sit, Marcos asked, “Who, or what, is ‘Arm’?”
Talub continued to fidget in the hard-backed wooded chair, like a child who knew he had an interesting story to tell his parents. His always wrinkled robes showed stains and even a tear on the shoulder, only a few of the reasons the mages denied him leave to go outside the castle walls. He was an embarrassment to the entire order.
“Arm is the being I’ve been communicating with, and he thinks he can help us!”
“Calm yourself, Talub.” Marcos sat back in his cushioned chair behind the desk, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and steepled his hands in front of his face. “What have you told this person, and what can he do to help?”
Talub popped out of his chair and began to pace around the room, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “I’ve been very careful, Marcos, just as I knew you’d tell me. When I first opened the portal, I kept many secrets, asking as many questions as I could have Arm, and writing down everything he said.
“He tried to play coy, but I kept rewording my questions, and eventually got from him that he is a being of a higher plane of existence than ours, he calls it a ‘dimension’, and they have powers and abilities we can’t even comprehend.” Talub did another little hopping dance at this pronouncement, and continued pacing around the room.
“I find all this hard to believe, Talub. You’ve only been studying for a year or so, and to have discovered a way…”
“But I have! I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” Talub turned on him, and the anger in his face momentarily frightened Marcos. This was not the same timid boy who’d come to study with them a year ago. This was something else. “But I can show you!” The smile came back to Talub’s face, and he hopped again, “Yes! I can show you! Come with me!”
Without waiting, he ran out the doorway, and turned toward his rooms.
Marcos, sat quietly for a moment, wondering if he should humor the boy, or just get back to his work, when Talum poked his head back into the doorway. “Come on!”
Marcos sighed, and levered himself to his feet, and followed Talub down the corridor, to the stairs, and up to the upper floors where the boy lived in the attic.
The ceilings were low up in the attic space, and the taller Marcos had to bend and crouch a little to enter the room. The room was much cooler than it should have been, this far into summer, but he didn’t make much note of this. In the middle of the floor was a much-used and, apparently, abused channeling diagram in chalk, the tallow candles slumped on their points around the circle, melted and unlit. Small spatters of blood from some previous animal sacrifices were dry on the floor. A most untidy ritual circle, and the boy should know better.
Talub went to the North Point, and sat cross-legged on the summoner’s glyph, and motioned for Marcos to take a seat on South. Marcos sighed again, and grunting softly, sat on the glyph there.
“You really should take better care of your circle, Tal…”
“Who have you brought to me, young Talub?” A deep, mellifluous voice filled the air between them, the surprise of the unexpected voice startling a small squeak from the older mage.
“One of my masters, Arm. Magister Marcos.” The boy squirmed on his glyph in delight that the older mage could finally see what he had done. “I told you he wouldn’t believe me, but now he can learn from you, too, and we can finally begin to help out!”
Marcos was frozen in disbelief, and said nothing. He was beginning to notice the chill in the room, the heaviness of another presence in the air. He noticed the candles on the desk, while giving light to the room, didn’t seem to illuminate as much of the small room as they should have, leaving the corners dark.
“Greetings, Magister Marcos. It is good to speak to another intelligent and learned creature from your dimension.”
“Um,” Marcos had to clear his throat to stoped the cracking in his voice. “Hello, Arm. Forgive me, but I am quite taken by surprise…I hadn’t thought…”
“Hadn’t thought the boy was telling the truth about our talks. I understand. Talub is very young, and excitable. But when he has told you is true. I am Arm, a being of another dimension, or ‘realm’ as our young pupil says.” The voice was calm and reassuring, that of a teacher, an educated man. “I am able to answer any questions you may have, before we begin to discuss how I may be able to help you.”
Marcos, swallowed, looking at young Talub. The boy nodded.
“Well, thank you, Arm.” He shifted his weight, and adjusted his robe, then clasped his hands together, tightly. “I guess my first question should be…”
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
The robed, hooded Magisters slowly entered the large chamber where the summoning circle was inscribed on the floor. A pedestal sat in the perfect center, with a flat stone table top serving as the altar. There were smaller channeling circles around the main ring, one for each of the forty-nine present. Each member of the congregation moved to their previously appointed spots, and stood in the middle of their channeling circle, chalk in hand. The goblets and daggers were already lying in place before them, ready for their moments in the ritual. Candles burned in niches in the walls, their light warm, but failing to chase all the shadows from the chamber, or make the room less cold and damp.
Marcos raised his arms from his position in the North, to address his fellows, “Magisters, we have come this night to perform the ritual we have prepared all these long months. While war has raged through our lands, we have readied ourselves to bring and end to the horrors and killing. Tonight, we will help those who can save our world into our light, help them cross the barriers into our realm, and bring the Seven Saviors to us.”
All the Magisters nodded silently, tense and nervous, but excited to finally be bringing a chance at peace for the world.
“The Seven have given us the knowledge needed for this night. They have readied us, taught us, guided our footsteps. Tonight, we will honor their sacrifice to be ripped from their realm and painfully dragged into ours, so they might help our suffering world. They have told us they will suffer greatly in the endeavor, as will we. For they have prepared us for the pain…no, the agony of our undertaking this night.
“The power necessary to bring our angels to this world is greater than any conjuration we have attempted. The power and strength of each of us is needed to bring the Seven.”
The congregation shifted nervously, uncomfortable with the amount of power discussed. Seven Magisters needed to bring each of the Seven Angels across was more psychic energy ever needed for a conjuration. Forty-nine magisters of the highest magnitude had never gathered together to perform a ritual before. Never had so many trained for so long to perform one feat. Seven months of preparation, meditation, learning, scribing, and cleansing.
The only Magister present who hadn’t spent decades mastering their art was the boy, Talub, who had opened the first portal to make contact with the Angels. Some of the Magisters surreptitiously glanced at him, seeing him still pouting at not being North, to lead the ritual. West was not enough for the boy, even though water was such a powerful element. He obviously didn’t understand the honor given him in respect to his power. Water is mighty, cleansing and scouring the earth, quenching the fires, and flooding the air. His psychic strength would be the foundation upon which the other Magisters would build their summoning.
“Brothers and Sisters, begin your prayers, begin drawing in your power, and prepare for the initial sacrifice,” Marcos intoned formally, lowering his arms and clasping his hands together to begin his chant silently to himself.
Around the room, the Magisters began their own chants and meditations. Some clasped hands as did Marcos, North, other drew shapes in the air in front of them, some made motions as if to invite energy into their bodies, and others stood with great stillness. The muttering and whispering echoed around the chamber like dry scales sliding across rock, and the air grew colder as energy was drawn slowly into the congregation. The candles flickered, but did not go out.
After an hour, North nodded without opening his eyes, and the acolytes guarding the entrance parted to allow others to lead an old woman forward and into the summoning circle.
The first of seven sacrifices to be made that night.
The living symbol of a life long-lived, the acolytes removed the old woman’s robe, and lay her upon the altar in the center of the summoning circle. The drugs kept the woman passive and quiet as she looked up at the ceiling of the chamber, a blank expression on her face.
Marcos in the North opened his eyes and looked at Jeneth, who stood in her circle, Mana. Hers was the first step, to begin the ritual and start the merging of all the magic within each Magister in the room. Jeneth nodded in response, bent to pick up the knife at her feet, kissed the blade, and stepped toward the altar. Stopping beside the woman lying in wait, she closed her eyes and said a cleansing prayer over her blade.
As Jeneth raised the knife in both hands, ready to plunge the blade down, the old woman turned her head and looked at the Magister beside her. Her eyes registered fear as she saw what was coming, but before she could make a sound, Jeneth stabbed down, directly into the old woman’s heart. The gasp was louder than Marcos expected, but there was no scream, the shock of the blade driving all breath from the woman.
As the blood began to pour out of the wound, Jeneth twisted the blade, severing more arteries, and the blood gushed out. The Magisters in the room could feel, and almost see the spirit leaving the old woman’s body, travel into the knife, up the arm, and into Jeneth. And through her, into all of the congregation in the room.
The power they held grew, everyone’s skin beginning to itch.
Jeneth returned to her circle, leaving the knife in the sacrifice, and returned to her centering chant.
As the acolytes removed the body, Marcos noted that there was no blood left on the altar. His chant faltered for a second at the oddity, but he gathered himself and continued his chant, as well.
Every hour, the acolytes brought out another sacrifice for the ceremony: A middle-aged couple, symbol of family and happy life; a father, symbol of protection and provision; a mother, the symbol of the giving of life; an adolescent, symbol of youth and exuberance. Each had added their life to the power gathering in the chamber, and the air thrummed around them, and every Magister was vibrating with the amount of power they held collectively. All were sweating profusely, and blood had begun to drip from noses and ears on many of those present. Even the acolytes at the door were writhing in pain, some with bleeding eyes, as well.
Finally, the last sacrifice of the ritual, a child, symbol of the hope in the future was led to the altar.
Marcos opened his eyes again, his hands still covered in the blood of the teen girl, and nodded at Talub in the West. The young Magister swallowed hard, and nodded back. His hands were visibly shaking as he bent to retrieve his knife at his feet.
With uncertain steps, Talub crossed slowly to the altar to stand beside the child. The drugged child was barely awake, slow-moving, a sure sign the acolytes had over-drugged the boy.
West began his prayer over his blade, preparing it for the final sacrifice, and the last surge of power. The one that would set the already sizzling air in the room on fire. This would be the moment they could tear open the fabric of the universe and create the doorway into the other realm. Everything they’d been working for these last long months, the culmination of years of study, hope, and prayers. The end to the never-ending wars.
Talub looked down at the child…as hesitated.
Do it, boy, Marcos thought feverishly, I don’t know if we can hold this much longer!
Moans could be heard from many in the circle, as the power continued to pressure them from the inside, trying to burst through their flesh and be released in a bloody explosion, but the training and will of the congregation held fast. But could not for much longer.
Talub looked over at Marcos, who could only nod his head toward the altar, not chancing more movement, in case he lost focus and the power burst him apart like a melon. He grimaced in pain. I’m going to kill that boy if he ruins this!
Talub stood uncertainly for another moment as the Magisters fought against the demands of the energy in the room to be let loose, all waiting for the final sacrifice, and then the controlled release to open the portal.
Talub finally raised the knife above his head, clasped it with both hands, and violently drove the blade into the sacrifice’s chest. With a quick wrenching motion, he twisted the blade and blood spurted from the wound, covering the young Magister in the crimson flood. The power released into the blade, and through Talub, who was completely obliterated in the blast. The shockwave crashed into the chanting congregation with tremendous force, throwing all the Magisters into the walls around them. Many hit the wall hard enough to crack their skulls open, killing them almost instantly, as gore washed over the chamber.
Marcos, as he was dying against the wall, still shocked at Talub being reduced to a mist of blood spraying out toward the walls, and saw several other Magisters split open by the shockwave as they flew back. Marcos only knew pain, both from his violent contact with the wall, but also, looking down, at seeing his intestines drooping out of his abdomen after he’d been split open himself. He tried to hold his guts in, but there were so many, so much, and his hands and arms didn’t seem to be working correctly.
As the darkness began to close in on him, he saw the last beautiful sight of his life: a glowing slash in the air in place of the altar, the opening of which had created the explosion, digging a crater in the middle of the room several feed deep, the altar, the sacrifice, and young Talub, all annihilated.
Have to…hold on…have to see…the angels…
The first creature the step through the portal was a monstrous beast, at least nine feet tall, with spikes coming out of its body, blood red eyes, razor-sharp fangs, and hooves. Its dark, ashen skin rippled with dense muscle as it stepped onto the soil of a new world, and a grisly smile broke out across its face.
It raised its head, sniffing the air, licking its lips, and let out a gravelly, deep laugh. “At last, a new realm to conquer!”
The beast turned to the rift in the universe, and beckoned, “Come, make haste, these weak magicians couldn’t make a lasting portal! Come through, quickly!”
More beasts began to step from the rift as the first looked around the chamber, still smiling its hideous grin. As its eyes crossed Marcos, the beast stepped toward him and crouched over the dying man.
“Look what we have here…one still alive…but not for long.” The monster licked its lips and leaned closer, “What is your name?”
“Ma—Mar—Marcos” the dying man stammered.
“Ah, the ‘Master’,” the demon said sarcastically. “Good, you live long enough for me to savor this victory.” One clawed finger reached out to stroke the Magister’s face. The demon dragged the digit through the blood covering the man, and licked the blood from his finger.
“Your blood is sweet, just as I knew it would be. This is a world that will give us much entertainment, and sustenance.” Arm chuckled, “It took long enough to get here, but I can see now that it was all worth it. Thank you, and young Talub, for the gracious invitation to your dimension.” The beast gripped Marcos’ face with his hand…almost a paw, and that hideous mouth opened wide, coming closer to rip the flesh from his face.
The demon cracked open Marcos’ skull and consumed the brain within.
His feasting was interrupted by a pulsing in the rift, and Arm turned to see the portal closing quickly, as the seventh demon stepped out. Yam, free of the portal, stretched his arms above his head and gave a great bellowing roar, shaking the room. The biggest of the Seven, Yam quickly began to search the room for any left alive. They all needed nourishment to replenish their energy after the painful and difficult crossing. Then sleep.
But soon, they would explore their new world.
And then the chaos and destruction would begin.
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