Chapter 10

The Seed turned back to the table where Daynin struggled against his bindings. He held the ogrerat’s head in his left hand and pulled Daynin’s gag free with the other.

“Drink of the beast’s blood, and your life will be spared. Come in to the darkness, and my power you’ll share. Refuse this oath and your life you will give, for your heart I will take that my power shall live,” the Seed chanted. “What say you boy? Open thy mouth and receive the blood of darkness.”

Daynin jerked hard on his bonds with one last effort to break free. Then he screeched, “Bastard son of a snake! I’ll die before I become a part of this.”

“See this?” the Seed boasted, shoving the ogrerat’s head in Daynin’s face. “Your head will soon be its mate on my mantle. Is that what you want? Or would you prefer to spend eternity here with the woman. Several women. All the women you want, in fact.”

“Sabritha’s alive?” Daynin asked.

“Alive and waiting for you. Or for me, if that be what you choose. She’s a sprightly wench, that one. I like the fire in her. Took three cups of my potion to bring her down. That was a first.”

“Bring her here that I might see she’s alive,” Daynin offered, “then if you swear to free her, I’ll join you in this hell.”

“Not that it matters, but she’s on her way here as we speak. And you are in no position to demand a thing. Remember? My house, my rules. You will do as I say, or I’ll put the woman’s lifeless head in your lap.”

“What of the others?” Daynin asked.

“Ah, the others. An old fool, a young fool, a thief and a coward. What a gang of rescuers. The last I thought of them, they were working their way out of the dungeon, but that’s been tried before. Which reminds me—how did you know that I was not the real Sabritha? I thought I did an admirable job of recreating her, especially the way I made her body respond to you.”

“She would never have acted that way toward me,” Daynin lamented.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, boy. I’ve studied her thoughts. I’ve even talked to her about you. Of course, she didn’t know it was me, at the time. But she told me all about you—how she owed her life to you.”

Just then, the chamber’s door burst open. “Cowardly son of the darkness!” Sabritha screamed from behind them. She hurled Cale’s dirk at the sorcerer’s unprotected back.

The Seed waved his hand in the air. The dirk seemed to bounce off an invisible shield that surrounded him. “See,” he laughed, “I told you she was coming!” He turned and leveled both hands at the woman, chanting, “Amal Matrach, Dein Bei! Spirits—take her away.” The spell threw the woman hard against the wall, knocking her unconscious.

Cale stepped forward and launched his halberd with all his might. The Seed slapped it down just as it reached him, causing the heavy spear to glance off the face of the Scythian Stone. The sharp point of the halberd splintered when it struck, cracking the Stone’s corner in the process.

The Seed let out a deafening roar. His anger swelled while he gathered strength for one of his most powerful spells. Cale stood motionless, facing his enemy, sensing that he had only seconds to live. The Seed leveled his arms again and chanted in Latin, this time sprouting an enormous yellow blaze from his fingertips. Flames exploded across the room, engulfing its target. Cale could do little to withstand the attack. The paladin’s armor became a flaming coffin, his body instantly turning to ashes from the terrible heat.

Daynin writhed in agony and screamed at his tormentor, “Stop it! I’ll do what you ask. Don’t kill them!”

Kruzurk knew his opportunity fast approached. The combined effect of the incantations and the spells the Seed had just cast would likely have drained the sorcerer of much of his power. Cale’s death weighed heavily on the magician but he prepared to stand up to the Seed anyway. He hoped that Sabritha had survived, but decided that, too, was something he could not change. Daynin’s life hung in the balance, and that was the one thing Kruzurk could do something about.

The Seed dropped to his knees in front of the Stone. He ran his hands along the cracked edge, and sobbed quietly, “It could only be broken by sorcery. It can only be repaired by the same.” He began to chant a new spell, “Nexus, vinculum and trennel. Powers be free, funnel through me, and mend what could not be broken.”

Kruzurk waited, knowing that the Seed’s futile efforts to repair the Stone would serve to further weaken him. He could tell with each successive chant that the Seed’s strength was failing. His great gamble might just pay off, after all.

The Seed finally turned away from the Stone. He stood up and grabbed the jeweled knife. “To hell with it,” he cursed. “The Stone will work, even if it’s cracked. And your blood will seal the bargain,” he swore to Daynin.

He raised the dagger, poised to plunge it into Daynin’s chest.

Then Kruzurk finally stood up. “Hold, evil one!” he demanded.

The Seed turned about, his eyes flashing with anger. “Roaches!” he swore. “You’re like cockroaches, coming out of every crevice. That shall be your punishment for having interrupted my pleasure, old man.”

“You are, indeed, an evil one. Just as Merlin said,” Kruzurk answered, intending to draw as much anger from the Seed as possible.

The Seed raised his arms, bent on dashing the new tormentor with a spell, but he hesitated. “What do you know of Merlin, old man? He’s been worm meat for more than seventy years.”

“Do you not recognize a fellow apprentice?”

“No, and no one else will after I’ve turned you into a cockroach.”

“It is I, Kruzurk Makshare.”

“Impossible. I put a curse on him that would drive a man to madness.”

“Yes, and I still carry that curse,” Kruzurk said, shaking his filthy hair loose from under a tight mesh cap.

“So! You’ve come back to test me, eh?” the Seed boasted.

“No. To stop you.”

“Stop me, indeed. I can crush you with one word, fool.”

“I think not. Remember this?” Kruzurk said, brandishing the opened black scroll in his hand.

The Seed gasped at the unexpected display. “Where—how the devil did you get that? I thought I destroyed that along with everything else before I left the guild.”

“Merlin gave it to me. It is your apprentice bond. Signed with your own blood. Do you remember? You swore to uphold the magician’s oath and that if you did not, you would kneel before the bearer of this document and recant your sorcerous ways.”

“Ha!” the Seed laughed. “Those old crow-baits—they’ve no power over me, and I’ll prove it!” Looking upward, he raised his empty hand into the air, and pointed the other one at the bond.

The oilskin scroll burst into flames, its contents dripping as the skin was instantly consumed. Kruzurk held the amulet under the flow of droplets, smiling and allowing a critical part of his ploy to reach completion.

He held the amulet aloft and laughingly taunted the Seed, “Only through sorcery can a sorcerer be quelled! Do you recognize this?”

Dead silence reigned in the chamber. Then the Seed gasped, “Merlin’s amulet! And my blood is upon it!”

The Seed lunged at Kruzurk with his jeweled knife. Kruzurk dodged behind the Stone, knocking the blade aside with his arm. The Seed slashed again, cutting a small wound in Kruzurk’s hand and causing him to drop the amulet at the base of the Stone. Slashing a third time, his blade missed its mark and cut cleanly through the rope that held the Stone in place. Kruzurk backed up, watching the heavy Stone begin to topple.

“Look out!” he warned, but too late.

With a deafening roar, the Stone crashed down onto the Seed, instantly crushing him like a mealy bug. Brains, blood and gore exploded all over the floor.

“You’re finished, Seed! Dead by your own hand,” Kruzurk crowed.

“Boozer—” Daynin whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming, “help me.”

Kruzurk stepped to Daynin’s side. He freed the boy’s hands and helped him up on the table.

“What happened, Boozer?” Daynin asked, weakly. “How did you—oh God,” he gasped as he saw the gory scene around him.

“It’s actually Kruzurk, or Kruze, as my friends call me. But never mind that now. You best see to the woman. She’ll be needing you.”

“But Booz, uhh—Kruze, I don’t understand. How did you—how do we get out of . . .”

“So many questions, boy. As for the Stone, this one’s a fake—carved by my own hand. No one knows where the real one is. I needed the fake to fool the Seed into bringing us here. Our whole journey was made for that purpose. We would never have gotten close to this place without it.”

Daynin rubbed his shoulders to regain some circulation. Then it struck him, what Kruzurk had said. “This whole adventure was planned? You used us to get in here? Curse you, magician! Cale would still be alive if not for you!” he snapped.

“No, Daynin, he likely would not. Cale had already given up his life for a vow of vengeance against the Duke. Except for me, you would have never met with Sabritha, and the Seed would still be conjuring his evil over this land. Some things are worth dying for. I am truly sorry for deceiving you, but you have helped to rid the land of one of its greatest evils. For that, I and many others will forever be in your debt.”

Daynin stumbled to Sabritha’s side, more concerned with her life than his own at that moment. He leaned down close to her and put his ear to her chest. The rhythmic beat continued, along with the sweet smell of her body that with all his sorcerous ways, the Seed had been unable to duplicate.

“Sabritha,” he whispered, “it’s Daynin. The Seed is finished.”

She reached out slowly to stroke his cheek. “Then take me home, plowboy. I’ve had all the adventure I can stand for a while.”