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Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] by Alastair J. Archibald Page B
Authors: Alastair J. Archibald
Tags: Science-Fiction
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pentacle.
"Shakkar, I regret I must restrain you,” Grimm said, shaking his head. “My companions remain imprisoned, and Starmor is the only mortal who can bring them back to this world. Be patient for a little longer. My promise to you remains intact.” Shakkar's tail thrashed in frustration but the demon ceased his struggle, his red eyes blazing with hatred and fixed intently on his mortal enemy. Grimm turned to Starmor and casually flicked his hand, causing the wizard to flinch as if he had been struck.
"Starmor,” he said, “you will die soon. I have no emotions to allow you the full extent of your powers. Whilst Shakkar has hate aplenty, his emotions are safely contained by the pentacle and therefore unavailable to you. Refuse to return my friends to this world and I will relinquish my hold over the spell, whilst retaining full control over you. Powerful you may be, but I fancy Shakkar will reach you long before you can reach out for the power of his hatred and use it on him or on me. Your death will be slow and unpleasant. If you do as I say, I will ensure your passing is swift and painless. These are your only choices."
Sweat glittered on Starmor's forehead. “What will you do if your companions are dead?"
"You may not attempt to bargain with me, Starmor,” Grimm replied, unsullied by worry at this prospect.
“Your life is all but at an end; your only choice is in the manner of its ending. However, I swear your death will be as torturous as Shakkar and I can devise, should you fail to ransom my colleagues."
"Very well, child-mage.” The Baron sighed, casting nervous eyes at the rapacious demon clawing at the walls of his prison. “Your alternatives are unappealing, but I cede you victory. However, I will be unable to muster sufficient strength to bring back your companions, or their cadavers, from their respective prisons without access to a modicum of emotion. Can you not restrain Shakkar in some other way and dissolve your pentacle?"
Grimm shook his head. In his normal state of mind, he might have chuckled, but his stony expression never wavered. “I am no fool. You would use the energy in an attempt to destroy Shakkar and me, or to escape. Instead, you will allow me free and unfettered access to the inner recesses of your mind so I may cast the charm. I will restrain you while I work the magic.
"At the slightest deviation from total acquiescence on your part, I will clamp you in a potent holding spell and visit exquisite torments upon you until you are all but dead. Then, when you are in no condition to attempt magic, I will allow Shakkar to vent the full measure of his wrath upon you. I imagine you will find he can be quite imaginative in the range of torments he can visit upon you. Were I not in full control of my emotions, I might be moved to mercy. In my present state, however, I am pragmatism personified. I feel no such compunction."
After many minutes, Starmor frowned and said, “Very well, Questor Grimm. Work your Divination. I will not attempt to baulk you."
The young Questor tied Starmor tightly to his throne with a length of strong cord from his pack, laid his hands on the Baron's temples and began to mutter in his strange language. Fleeting images from the wizard's mind flitted through Grimm's sensorium. Although the images would normally have filled him with all-consuming revulsion and anger, the effects of the herbs kept him intent on his task. Long moments passed before he raised his hands and invoked multiple spells of translocation. Blue phosphorescence filled the chamber as the power flowed forth from Grimm, and figures filled the room. The first to arrive was Dalquist, a tight and humourless grin of defiance on his lips as he raised his hands to cast a mighty spell against a foe no longer present.
Then came Harvel, bearing a number of deep cuts on his muscular body but standing in a proud, defiant attack posture, his deadly sword poised before him.
Finally, Crest came forth,
"Shakkar, I regret I must restrain you,” Grimm said, shaking his head. “My companions remain imprisoned, and Starmor is the only mortal who can bring them back to this world. Be patient for a little longer. My promise to you remains intact.” Shakkar's tail thrashed in frustration but the demon ceased his struggle, his red eyes blazing with hatred and fixed intently on his mortal enemy. Grimm turned to Starmor and casually flicked his hand, causing the wizard to flinch as if he had been struck.
"Starmor,” he said, “you will die soon. I have no emotions to allow you the full extent of your powers. Whilst Shakkar has hate aplenty, his emotions are safely contained by the pentacle and therefore unavailable to you. Refuse to return my friends to this world and I will relinquish my hold over the spell, whilst retaining full control over you. Powerful you may be, but I fancy Shakkar will reach you long before you can reach out for the power of his hatred and use it on him or on me. Your death will be slow and unpleasant. If you do as I say, I will ensure your passing is swift and painless. These are your only choices."
Sweat glittered on Starmor's forehead. “What will you do if your companions are dead?"
"You may not attempt to bargain with me, Starmor,” Grimm replied, unsullied by worry at this prospect.
“Your life is all but at an end; your only choice is in the manner of its ending. However, I swear your death will be as torturous as Shakkar and I can devise, should you fail to ransom my colleagues."
"Very well, child-mage.” The Baron sighed, casting nervous eyes at the rapacious demon clawing at the walls of his prison. “Your alternatives are unappealing, but I cede you victory. However, I will be unable to muster sufficient strength to bring back your companions, or their cadavers, from their respective prisons without access to a modicum of emotion. Can you not restrain Shakkar in some other way and dissolve your pentacle?"
Grimm shook his head. In his normal state of mind, he might have chuckled, but his stony expression never wavered. “I am no fool. You would use the energy in an attempt to destroy Shakkar and me, or to escape. Instead, you will allow me free and unfettered access to the inner recesses of your mind so I may cast the charm. I will restrain you while I work the magic.
"At the slightest deviation from total acquiescence on your part, I will clamp you in a potent holding spell and visit exquisite torments upon you until you are all but dead. Then, when you are in no condition to attempt magic, I will allow Shakkar to vent the full measure of his wrath upon you. I imagine you will find he can be quite imaginative in the range of torments he can visit upon you. Were I not in full control of my emotions, I might be moved to mercy. In my present state, however, I am pragmatism personified. I feel no such compunction."
After many minutes, Starmor frowned and said, “Very well, Questor Grimm. Work your Divination. I will not attempt to baulk you."
The young Questor tied Starmor tightly to his throne with a length of strong cord from his pack, laid his hands on the Baron's temples and began to mutter in his strange language. Fleeting images from the wizard's mind flitted through Grimm's sensorium. Although the images would normally have filled him with all-consuming revulsion and anger, the effects of the herbs kept him intent on his task. Long moments passed before he raised his hands and invoked multiple spells of translocation. Blue phosphorescence filled the chamber as the power flowed forth from Grimm, and figures filled the room. The first to arrive was Dalquist, a tight and humourless grin of defiance on his lips as he raised his hands to cast a mighty spell against a foe no longer present.
Then came Harvel, bearing a number of deep cuts on his muscular body but standing in a proud, defiant attack posture, his deadly sword poised before him.
Finally, Crest came forth,
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