Rose Estes - The Price of power

The Demon Maelfesh was angry. He could not remember the last time any of his minions had dared to oppose him. It had been several millennia at the very least. Maelfesh did not like being disobeyed. And never, never before had his will been subverted by a mere mortal!

Yet the unthinkable had indeed happened. A mortal, a human, no less, one Mika-oba, a member of the Wolf Nomad clan on the world of Greyhawk, had bested the demi-demon Iuz and sent him packing, banished to the ethereal plane, where he would remain for a very long time if Maelfesh had anything to say about it. And he did.

Iuz would not be missed; Maelfesh had a multitude of demi-demons on hand to do his bidding. But this mortal could not be allowed to escape unscathed. Already he had heard unhealthy murmurings and caught sideways glances from slitted eyes as his minions watched and wondered whether he could possibly be fallible.

No, the mortal would have to be punished, but not slain-at least not too easily or too soon. The human would have to realize the depth of his transgression before he died. His fear and his punishment had to be spectacular. Maelfesh had no idea what that punishment would be. But he had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that an idea would come to him.

Mika knelt beside the great wolf TamTur and watched the blood flow from the wound in his chest. He had tried applying pressure, but the blood continued to pour through his fingers. He had tried healing herbs-in fact, he had tried every herb in his pouch, erabbing great handfuls and pressing them against 'he gaping hole. But nothing had worked, and as Tarn's breath grew even more laint, it seemed likely that he would die.

Damn it, Tam, don't you dare die on me!" Mika кге.-.nicd. filled with frustration and panic, not itr.iг.с what else he could do to prevent the inevita- hte.

Desperate, he picked the wolf up in his arms, carried him across the cracked paving stones of the ruined 'emple. and laid him gently on the broken slab of the altar

Mika's dazed companions offered little encouragement. Hornsbuck, Mika's loyal clansman lay slumped against the walls of the temple, slobbering in a catatonic state; his eyes blank and fixed ahead. The venerable scout was watched over by his vigilant wolf RedTail, who lay curled at his side. Mika's faithful roan and Princess Julia-who had recently become a most ill-tempered wolf-were nowhere to be seen, and were doubtless foraging nearby, unconcerned over Tarn's fate.

Mika fumbled in his pouch and pulled out his book of spells, the book that had been his father's. The book of spells that he should have learned by heart years earlier but had somehow never quite found the time.

Mika flipped through the pages, turning them rapidly as he sought a spell that he could accomplish with his meager abilities and yet would be strong enough to save the wolfs life.

"Charm… confusion… fire… fumble… polymorph, hmmm, polymorph… wizard eye…" No, none of them would do. Except, maybe, just perhaps…

Polymorph… powerful spell… changes form and ability… may change personality and mentality…

Mika stopped reading and looked at Tain. He could scarcely see the rise and fall of the wolf s chest and, even as he watched, the blood began to drip slowly onto the stone altar instead of spurting thickly as before. Tam was nearly drained. If Mika were going to save him, he had best do so immediately.

Mika began to panic. All right! He would do it! He would try a polymorph spell. He could do it. He hoped. He'd done it twice before, hadn't he? All right, so he'd done it wrong once. That didn't count. This time he'd do it right.

But what was he to change lam into? Anything the wolf became would die jusi as easily as Tarn himself. Except a troll. Trolls didn't die. Not even when you lopped off their heads and limbs. They lived through the very worst wounds bv regenerating, replacing the fallen pans and healing wounds with ease, appearing a› good as new afterward, if a troll could еvег be termed good as new.

Bu: a troll? Trolls were hideous, gruesome things, and no one would turn into one willingly… unless their life depended on it.

Mika's mind was made up. He could think of absolutely no other way to save the wolf who was closer to him than anyone in the world… except maybe Celia. oh. and Amber, and Alyssa, and that girl in the bar in Yecha… what was her name?

Mika shook his head, dispelling the thought of nubile bodies from his mind. He read through the spell quickly, memorizing it faster than he had ever memorized anything before, except maybe the combination of knots binding Melanie's door that her brother foolishly thought would keep him out…

The spell called for the cocoon of a caterpillar. Mika spied a cocoon fortuitously attached to the wall behind the altar and pried it loose with the tip of his sword, hoping that it had been spun by a proper caterpillar. The Great She-Wolf alone knew what other strange creatures had inhabited this temple of evil.

Tarn would have to take his chances; he was so close to death now that worrying about what kind of web it was seemed ludicrous. Far more likely was the possibility that Mika would botch the spell and turn Tarn into a turtle or a toad. Well, he could but do his best.

He looked at the spell one last time, gripped the cocoon in his left hand, and placed his right hand on Tain's chest just above the terrible wound. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to chant.

Halfway through the spell Mika felt Tain's body tremble. Abruptly the wolf stiffened and his legs jerked spasmodically. Mika kept his eyes closed and kept on reciting.

As he reached the end of the spell Mika heard a strange sizzling sound and smelled ihe stink of burning blood. Uttering the last few words, he racked his brain worriedly, trying to think of what he had done or said to produce such results. Sizzling blood was not supposed to be one of the effects of the spell.

Then, just as he pronounced the very last word of the spell, there was a thunderous crash, and something struck him full in the chest. He felt himself thrown backward as though from some terrible explosion. Almost before he realized what was happening, he struck one of the many broken marble pillars that had once supported the lofty bell-shaped dome of the temple. His head struck the stone with great force, knocking all the breath out of his body. His back and his chest were a blaze of pain, and he saw a brilliant display of sparkling stars before his eyes. He gasped for air, but his lungs refused to work. He gagged and heaved, but the band of pain just grew tighter across his chest until it seemed that he would never breathe again.

The "tars before his eyes were sprinkled on a crimson background, and he writhed on the ground trying desperately to get his breath. Just as the stars began to fade from view, winking out one after the other, Mika felt something brush his face, lighter than a feather's touch. Suddenly the pain was gone. Completely.

Mika lay there, eyes still closed, the cessation of the terrible agony as sweet as pleasure. He drew air into his lungs and savored it as though it were a rare wine. He was content to lie there for a moment, grateful that he was still alive. He sighed deeply and resolved studv the spell book more carefully. Another mistake like that one, whatever it was, might kill him the next time. He'd been lucky.

Tarn! What had happened to Tarn? He opened his eves and shot to his feet, only to fall back in horror. There, leaning against the edge of the altar was a… a… a something horrendous. It looked like a man being burned alive… being consumed by flames… except the thing was twice as big as a man! It was hard to see. Mika held up his hands and shielded his eyes against the abnormal brilliance of the flames, jjid as he did so, the figure shifted and stood upright.