Ричард Кнаак - The Veiled Prophet

They are studying Inarius and the Burning Hells, evaluating their positions.

“Sensible…but not if you include the hunter, Achilios, in the situation. He tried to slay Uldyssian, you know.”

Which makes it more likely that it is your father who controls him. I fail to see your point. The stars reshaped themselves, becoming again a constellation resembling the long, serpentine creature of myth.

“It was not my father. I know that now with all certainty. I know where he is and what he has been doing. It was not he.”

Then we are back to the belief that the High Heavens is aware of Sanctuary.

Rathma’s brow rose. “Or but one of its august host.”

But one? The stars realigned themselves as Trag’Oul digested this. But one? Who, though, would come in secret, rather than immediately reveal Inarius’s betrayal to the Angiris Council? There is none.

“There is one. There is he who was closest to my father, as close as blood, despite neither having any. Yea, I might call him uncle, Trag, for as the angels count them, he and Inarius are considered brothers.”

You cannot mean Tyrael.

There was a moment of silence, as if both expected that speaking this angel’s name would cause him to appear. After a time, though, Rathma finally spoke, in a voice that, for humans, at least, could have barely been heard.

“Yes. Tyrael. I believe that the Angel of Justice has come on his own to judge his brother’s crimes…and, in the process, Sanctuary.”

Uldyssian awoke. At least, that was the best he could describe his change in condition. In truth, he felt somewhere midway between that and unconsciousness. His head swam in a manner that disconcerted him, making it impossible to focus.

But despite that disorientation, Uldyssian felt certain of one thing.

Inarius surely had him.

He could imagine no one else who could so easily trap him…and that made the figure who stepped before him all the more odd. He was dark of skin, with a long beard well kept. His eyes, though, were what garnered the most attention, for they pierced the fog of Uldyssian’s mind as nothing else was able to do.

“You hear me, Uldyssian ul-Diomed? You hear me? I’ve kept you unconscious for the entire trip back, so you should be coherent enough now to respond.”

Uldyssian tried to answer, but his tongue felt too huge, and his jaw seemed not to work. He managed a nod, which satisfied the robed figure.

“Good! Understand, then, that I am your captor. I, the great Zorun Tzin!”

He said this as if Uldyssian should know him and appeared slightly put off by the prisoner’s lack of recognition. Zorun Tzin sniffed disdainfully, then went on. “They all feared you, but you proved quite simple to take, truly. I sometimes still wonder if it was even worth all I did, all I betrayed…”

Once again, Uldyssian tried to speak, with the same results.

“You shall be talking soon enough, rest assured, my friend! There is much I would learn about you before I decide just what should be done.”

A huge figure lumbered past behind the spellcaster’s back. For some reason, the brutish form seized Uldyssian’s attention more than his captor.

Zorun glanced back. “Terul! Bring me that small black chest on the third shelf. Now!”

Zorun’s servant stalked off to obey, but not before meeting Uldyssian’s gaze. The captive felt the urge to say something but knew the futility.

“Does Terul upset you with his appearance?” the mage asked, misreading Uldyssian’s reaction. “There are far worse things in the world. He’s the least of your concerns, Ascenian…and I am your greatest.”

He raised a staff that Uldyssian only now saw and muttered something. Various runes of the staff flared.

A scream echoed in Uldyssian’s ears, but it took him a moment to realize that it was his own. Pain suddenly ravaged his body, as if every inch of his skin were slowly peeled away.

“It is only sensation now,” explained the robed figure, “but soon it will be reality. I give you this demonstration to encourage you to be forthcoming with whatever answers I desire. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” That he could speak now in no manner pleased Uldyssian. All that mattered was the pain. His head still swam, enabling him to pay attention only to Zorun Tzin, nothing else. He still did not even know his surroundings, other than the bit of stone floor beneath the spellcaster’s sandaled feet.

With a sweeping gesture of the staff, Zorun caused the pain to ease. From his left, the giant, Terul, returned with the box his master had demanded earlier. The servant did not give him the container but rather held it before Zorun.

The mage opened the box with the lid toward Uldyssian. Zorun eagerly peered within, then removed something. Clutching the tiny object in his free hand, the bearded Kehjani indicated that Terul should shut the box.

“Replace it on the proper shelf,” he commanded the giant. As Terul departed, Zorun held up his hand for Uldyssian to see what lay in the palm.

Uldyssian tried to gasp, but it appeared that his captor had again sealed his mouth. He knew what lay in the spellcaster’s hand, knew it far better than Zorun likely did.

It was a small piece of the same type of crystal as that of which the Worldstone was composed.

Whether it was actually from the monstrous artifact itself, Uldyssian could not say. He only knew that he had never seen such crystal anywhere else. If it were actually a piece, the son of Diomedes could only assume that Lilith, one of the Ancients, or some demon or angel had stolen it away from the caverns. Perhaps it had been part of one of the floating crystals constantly shattering around the main stone, or perhaps it had been stolen at the time of the Worldstone’s creation. He could not say.

Indeed, all that mattered was that it was here, in the hands of Zorun Tzin.

“You sense the power inherent in this? Interesting. Perhaps you are more as the council said, after all. You like my little stone? It cost a dozen lives for me to obtain it, and in the decade before I became aware of it, apparently it cost twice that! All master mages or their agents. It is incredibly ancient, that much I know…and very useful for my spellwork, as you shall see.”

He squatted down. Uldyssian’s eyes followed, and for the first time he noticed the edge of some pattern written in chalk. It was likely the very pattern that held him in check. Zorun placed the crimson stone on one particular symbol, which flared as the crystal touched it.

“You would do best to be very cooperative,” Zorun said as he straightened. “The stone will amplify the effects of everything I desire, including your pain.”

The mage raised his staff. Again, the runes glowed.

Uldyssian screamed. Now it felt as if he were being turned inside out. He saw no change, but his attempts to deny the pain went for nothing.

As abruptly as the agony had begun, it ceased. Uldyssian would have let his head slump over if that choice had been allowed him.

The Kehjani chuckled. “What you experienced, Ascenian, can actually be done to you. I can turn your insides into your outsides. The stone is powerful enough to enable me to do that. I know, for I have tested it in that regard.” He let that fact sink deep into Uldyssian’s muddled mind. “An easy thing it would be, in fact—”

At that moment, Terul rushed into view. Zorun was not at all pleased by this interruption, but he listened as the giant tried to relate some imminent news.

“Upstairs…” the servant grunted. “Robes…”

The mage’s expression radiated understanding. “Members of the council? Is that what you mean?”

Terul’s tiny head bobbed up and down.

Zorun stroked his immaculate beard. “They cannot be here about the guards, as they’ve accepted the explanations for their deaths. Did they say anything to you at all about the reason for their visit?”