Hugh Cook - The Witchlord and the Weaponmaster

"I have seen men fed to the thing," said Sken-Pitilkin. "It tore them apart in moments."

This was untrue, but Sken-Pitilkin felt that some amplification of the demon's dangers was necessary to discourage Lord Onosh from hazarding his person in a foolhardy assault on the green-glowing monolith.

In front of the demon, a great deal of scuffled blood was smeared on the skull-pattern tiles of the Hall of Time. Behind the demon was a stairway – a stairway which led upward.

"Sod!" said Lord Onosh.

There was a pause. Then Sod came downstairs. The Banker came into view with Guest Gulkan as his hostage. Guest's hands had been bound behind his back, and Sod had a knife at Guest's throat. It was then that Lord Onosh realized he could have used an archer.

Should he send for Morsh Bataar, who was downstairs fighting alongside Thodric Jarl?

"Surrender," said Sod. "Surrender, and I'll give you a quick death."

"And if I don't surrender?" said Lord Onosh.

"Why," said Sod, "then I'll cut your son to pieces, here and now."

The meager terms which Sod offered, coupled with his uncompromising directness, told Lord Onosh that he had best not delay. Morsh might have been helpful, but it was too late to fetch him.

"Sken-Pitilkin," said Zozimus. "Get me my son."

The wizard Sken-Pitilkin heard the command, and quailed, for he was fearfully weary, and his strength was close to spent. But he exerted himself wizardfully. He raised his country crook and he shouted a Word.

Caught by Sken-Pitilkin's power, Banker Sod and Guest Gulkan were simultaneously levitated and dragged toward the Witchlord and his men. Lord Onosh cried in triumph. But he cried too soon! For the demon lashed out with liquid green tentacles, secured the levitated pair, and dragged hard and home to its own green-shining flank.

"Shan scaba mach!" said Lord Onosh.

His mighty oath was consequent upon extreme provocation. For the demon's own mass now sheltered Sod and Guest from arrow-shot.

"Perhaps Sken-Pitilkin could shake the demon a bit," said Zozimus brightly. Sken-Pitilkin gave Zozimus a dirty look.

"An excellent suggestion!" said Lord Onosh. "Do it!"

"I will try, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin.

But he had already guessed that the demon was so massive as to be quite unshakable. While the wizards of Skatzabratzumon can levitate a thing, they can also test the weight of a thing by tweaking it with a little leverage, and this is what Sken-Pitilkin did to the demon.

In response to Sken-Pitilkin's tweaking, the green-burning demon flashed purple, and gave a grumbling roar of discontent.

Encouraged by this, Sken-Pitilkin tweaked it again. But this time there was no response. And the weight of the thing! Having tweaked it, Sken-Pitilkin estimated its weight as that of ten elephants.

"I tried to lift it, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin, panting heavily as he feigned the aftermath of great effort. "But it would not budge."

"So we saw," said Lord Onosh, who had been greatly impressed by that flash of purple, which he took as proof of great wizardly exertions. "Zozimus! Do your stuff!"

At which Pelagius Zozimus sent his eleven corpses into action. They thrashed forward in a puppet-jerk frenzy. And were ripped to pieces by the slice-striking lighting of the demon's green-slash tentacles.

"Pitilkin!" gasped Zozimus. "Loft!"

In response, Sken-Pitilkin lofted one corpse, sending it up and over. It almost made it. But one of its feet drooped as it soared over the demon, and the thing snared the foot, then hurled the corpse to splattering destruction against the stairs.

Zozimus turned pale.

As the living human body is a well-knit and sturdy piece of construction work, so too is a fresh-killed corpse. As a necromancer, Pelagius Zozimus knew the hardiness of such a corpse, and was appalled at the demonic strength which could wreck such a thing beyond recognition.

"Give up!" yelled Sod.

"Give up?" said Lord Onosh. "How long do you think you can shelter there?"

"I can be up the stairs in moments," yelled Sod.

"Take one step from the shadow of that demon," said Lord Onosh, "and I'll split your skull with my battle axe."

As it happened, Lord Onosh did not have a battle axe in his possession. In any case, he was not one of those people who could throw an axe with any accuracy. But the point was made. Sod would be a target for swift-hurled swords and knives if he stepped from protection.

This raised an obvious question – could the demon deflect such missiles? Sken-Pitilkin thought it surely could, and thought that Sod would shortly realize as much.

"Zozimus!" said Lord Onosh.

"My lord," said Sken-Pitilkin.

"This demon-thing," said Lord Onosh. "It seems it favors Sod. It discriminates, does it?"Sken-Pitilkin was annoyed that the Witchlord had given a mere slug chef priority as a source of advice. So, before Zozimus could answer, Sken-Pitilkin said:

"It discriminates as does a dog. It knows its master."

"A dog, is it?" said Lord Onosh. "It doesn't look much of a dog to me."

"A sparrow," said Glambrax. "It looks like a sparrow. Or a cockroach, perhaps?"

"It is a demon," said Sken-Pitilkin. "It is Icaria Scaria Iva-Italis, demon of Safrak and Guardian Prime."

"This is no Guardian, Pitilkin," said Lord Onosh, who knew full well that the Guardians were the Toxteth-speaking mercenaries who served the Safrak Bank.

"Yet it is, my lord," said Sken-Pitilkin. "For this block of stone has long had lordship of all the armed men in the service of the Bank. Each and every Guardian has sworn a mighty oath of fealty to this particular block of stone. Therefore, if we could but win its allegiance, then we could likewise win the allegiance of the Guardians as a whole."

"Then I will try to persuade the thing to my service," said Lord Onosh. "Does it speak Eparget?"

"It speaks the Yarglat tongue as it speaks all others," said Sken-Pitilkin. "You may address with confidence address it in Eparget, if such is your will. But – not too close, my lord! It bites!"

"So you have told me," said Lord Onosh, risking a single step which took him just a little closer to the green-burning stone monolith. Then he cleared his throat, finding that throat uncommonly dry, and said: "Guardian!"

"Guardian Prime," said Sken-Pitilkin, sotto voce.

"Guardian!" said Lord Onosh, ignoring Sken-Pitilkin. "I am Onosh Gulkan, he who is known as the Witchlord. Tameran is my domain, for the Collosnon Empire is the dominant power in Tameran, and I that empire's rightful ruler."

In response, the demon spat out a head. It splattered through the blood which sprawled across the floor in front of the demon, rolled across the skull-pattern tiles of the Hall of Time and came to rest at the Witchlord's feet. Its eyes had been sucked out, and the hair stripped from the scalp. Through the ragged flesh, bone shone bloody-green in the cold-burning demon-light.

Lord Onosh started involuntarily.

For his part, Sken-Pitilkin started not, for he had expected some kind of insult from the demon. As Lord Onosh began a fresh and windy declaration of his powers and prerogatives, Sken-Pitilkin drew aside the dwarf Glambrax.

"Glambrax," said Sken-Pitilkin. "You have an axe."

"Yes," said the dwarf. "But there is a great body of rock between me and our enemy Sod."

"So I have noticed," said Sken-Pitilkin. "However… there was anciently a great and noble sport known as dwarf-tossing."

"So I have heard," said Glambrax gravely. "But if you are in a mood to toss someone, then why not a full-born warrior?"

"Because," said Sken-Pitilkin, "I am close to exhausted, and there scarcely remains to me the power to move even one of compact build."

"Then perhaps one of larger build will consent to be selectively amputated so that the tossing of him becomes a feat within your capabilities," said Glambrax.