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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 73: Gib Once Again
Gib was in some kind of trouble. Or maybe I should say that some kind of trouble was in him. I don’t how he must have felt. I have never been possessed you see, but from what Gib told me I can gather that it wasn’t very fun.
It was torture. Pure and utter torture. There was the pain of course. Every moment Gib felt like he was dying. Like he was being engulfed in fire or had been stricken with an unbearable illness. It piled upon him, filling every inch of him with an empty deadness. But that wasn't the worst of it. Under the pain and within the fire surrounding him, was a terrible sense of evil. It was like Gib had been cut off from every good thing. Even his memories of such things, now faded into darkness. Already Gib had lost his sense of sight. His eyes, now rolled back in his head, only served to add to the demons terror. His ears however, were working fine. This is what he heard:
“Ah Aezazel, tt is good to have you back. Though what is this new instrument you have found?”
“It was a man named Gib before I took him. With it's help I was able to infiltrate the councils of the enemy and learn their plans.”
“And what news of the battle? Have you crushed the last of those Bulls?”
“No. As a matter of fact we were utterly defeated.”
“What! How?”
“It wasn’t my fault, BloodVaine. What did you expect with Lord Void and that Bourne person there?”
BloodVaine was furious. “Do you mean to tell me that all my dragons were defeated by two performing magicians?”
“I’m afraid it was more then that. Some twist of fate that I cannot fathom helped those rebels through the entire battle. I would have had the Bull King’s head at least, if not for that elf. The wolf wouldn’t have stopped me if he hadn’t shown up just then.”
“What are you talking about?” BloodVaine snapped. “What of the battle?”
Aezazel shuddered. “There too I witnessed a shameful twist in all laws of probability. The mage produced a shield which I expected, but then...he was weakening too. I could feel it! We would have had them all if the fates had favored us even slightly! Oh, I would have torn that man’s soul out if only Lord Void wasn’t there. Of course the dragons scattered. Even as we speak they are roaming throughout the south eastern kingdoms.”
“BESTLOCK IT ALL, AEZAZEL! Do you have even a morsel of good news to give me?”
“Have a hope BloodVaine, for I have seen and heard many things in my time spent among them. I know much of their plans and of more use to us, I have this…” Aezazel reached into Gib’s sack and produced a small black box.
“What is it?” BloodVaine asked.
“It’s a weapon. They said it could kill you.”
BloodVaine raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “We will see about that.”
The wizard closed his eyes, concentrating as he placed his hand over the box. BloodVaine remained motionless for a few minutes and then, suddenly drew back in horror.
“What is it?” Aezazel asked. “What did you see?”
“Vengeance. Retribution. Judgment. That box is the very thing that could undo me. Even now it seeks to bring it’s justice upon me!”
“Then we must destroy it.”
“No! Don’t even attempt to! You would only unleash the spirits upon me.”
“Then at least let us burry it in the depths of the sea. There where it cannot harm us.”
“Us? No, it will not harm you, Aezazel. And we cannot attempt to hide it. She would only summon it again to herself. No, you must keep it. Keep it with you always. Till time or damnation take me.”
“As you wish sir. They will have to destroy me in this man’s blood before they wield it again.”
“Very good. Now you must return my dragons to me. Del Grakken told me that the command has been altered from Coal Blood to a dragon named Kirfang. Unlike Coal Blood he is a normal dragon. You will be able to control him with ease. Now, I must take council with these Black Falcons. Eroth Gamus will put a quick end to this siege…”
BloodVaine collapsed into the throne usually occupied by the Classic Emperor, fighting to keep awake. Drock’s attack had spooked BloodVaine, and he had overreacted with such a blast of magic that he had obliterated everything within the radius of a mile. Only he and Del Grakken had been spare, teleported out of the blast zone a split second before the Fire Breathing Fortress was turned to pebbles. What a waste. He could have easily dispached with Drock with a simple killing spell that would have left him with a still fairly sturdy fortress and much Mana left to use agaisnt other enemies. Now, however, he was weak as a newborn child and many Dragon Masters loyal to him had been killed needlessly. At least, BloodVaine reasoned, those rebel Dragon Masters had probably been destroyed as well.
“Del Grakken, I am...not to be disturbed at all...you will take orders from Aezezal until I think otherwise. Go.”
Del Grakken left, inwardly fuming that his prize, the Fire Breathing Fortress, was no more, but also very glad BloodVaine had thought to bring him along in the teleharm to safty.
Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Gentleman, Apothecary,
Plough-boy, Thief.
Jack sat in thunderstorm dark, the moth-flicker of an oil lamp faint and ghostly before him. He was rolling bandages and packing them in tight bundles for the battle to come. It was quiet and still, the hour of dawn yet to come. He hummed the nursery rhyme as he worked, letting his mind fall into the simple, thoughtless rhythm of making the bandage rolls.
Army, Navy,
Medicine, Law,
Church, Nobility,
Nothing at all.
He had no memory of the first time he had heard the simple rhyme. A long-ago moment of childhood, no doubt, though it had followed him through his endless wanderings like a second shadow.
Years had passed -- could he even remember how many? -- since he last saw a battlefield, and Jack knew that the fight to come would dwarf anything seen before. How many friends would die, this time? And how many could a handful of battlefield healers save? For now, he could do nothing but wait. He had known the noise and stink and tumult of a war before, and swore never again. Yet here he was, and tomorrow or the day after he would see it once more.
He had to get some sleep, or he would never be ready. But he could not put the bandages down, nor surrender himself to the night. He sung the rhyme softly to the dark again, and picked up another pouch of poultices. He was Jack Craft, and his friends would need every edge in the battle to come. He would make sure they got it.
Dark to daylight, stone to sky,
Caterpillar, Butterfly,
Waking, sleeping, buried, blind,
Come and seek me, come and find...
Gib smothered in endless dark, the last spark of his will a flickering mote that hovered on the edge of waking and sleep. He was somewhere, somewhen, and he fought a lost battle for himself. The nursery rhyme, a fragment from lost youth, rattled like a pebble in his thoughts, and he held to it greedily as something his own.
Sun to shadow, cloud to wave,
Noble throne, shallow grave,
Father, Mother, Lover, Friend,
Seek a future, find your end...
He had so few memories of his own left. Aezazel had pulled them out one by one, weeds from a garden, for his own spiteful amusement. He was Gib. He knew that much, and something more besides.
An hour or an eon ago -- how could he know how much time? -- Bloodvaine had done something so powerful that it left magic itself stunned. And in that brief moment, Aezazel had been eclipsed. Gib had been so shocked by the sudden sense of himself that he had no time to do anything before the demon cocooned his mind and seized his muscles once more. For that instant, he felt the clothes on his back, he saw the light of the sky, he knew the pulse in his own veins again.
And he felt the spirit-box, raging like a silent hornet’s nest in his pouch. He had not been ready, and Aezazel had taken him back before he could react.
He muttered the rhyme again, to keep himself focused. He was Gib. He was Gib.
He would be ready to act, next time.
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