August 17th, 797, Current Age
My experiments began early today. We started before dawn, hauling the prodigy women from their cells in the dungeons to the lower catacombs. They still have not been fed, and Parius will be continuing the experiments throughout the night. I must admit that I am beginning to feel the weight of what we are doing here. At first I told myself it was all for the advancement of the arcane arts, but I can no longer justify these atrocities. Subjects 347 through 429 of batch 13 perished today. They did not die easy deaths. Despite everything, I am concerned that we still have not found the psion Lord Dekarus is searching for.
There is one that I have high hopes for, a young woman, subject 496. She shows an incredible capacity for spellcraft, learning and adapting the spells we give her at an alarming rate. We have begun testing her separately from the others, as her castings have gotten progressively more volatile. Dekarus was hoping to avoid chaos sorcery, but 496 cannot be easily ignored. She continues to rebel, however. She refuses to follow basic commands and simply chooses to submit to further torture. One thing that bothers me is that she insists her name is "Grandymire". We have instilled in all the other women that their name is their number, but 496 refuses to follow suit. This appeared to be basic rebellion until I learned about the grandymire flower. The plant is used by witches in death rituals, and alchemical lore often refers to the plant as the "essence of wrath". After reading many texts on the subject I was not just disturbed but overwhelmed with an unnatural anxiety. I pray she is the psion Dekarus is looking for, so that my nightmare may end.
I wonder, when this is all over, can we look back at what we have "accomplished" and still call ourselves men? Or has this been the very undoing of integrity?
Lead Practitioner Larker shut his leather bound journal and rubbed his wrinkled temples. The storm outside couldn't possibly be louder, and it did nothing but agonize his headache. All his long life he had never been plagued by the damn head pains and now he rarely felt release from their clutch. Letting loose a wheezing groan, he left his writing desk and limped to the bed of his small chamber. The architect who designed the tower of Izer Reef did not make it to be comfortable. Often times Larker thought the tower was not only a prison for the renegade mages but for their wizard jailers as well. Larker laid down upon his bed, and shut his eyes out of habit, for he knew sleep would never come. Only a few minutes into his rest, a rapid and strained knock fell on his door. "Enter," he called.
The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing Second Practitioner Parius. The stalky pale man bore the appearance of the archetype necromancer. Larker found his presence abhorrent, and he had suspicions that Lord Dekarus only had Parius sent to Izer Reef to keep watch on him. However, Parius was not the only terror behind the door, for as he stepped in so too did Lord Dekarus himself. Larker nearly choked as he saw the authoritative figure of Dekarus looming over his chamber bed. Dekarus spoke, cool and calm yet commanding with unseen ascendancy, "Greetings, Larker. Apologies for disturbing you, I am aware that the hour is late."
Larker's mouth opened and closed silently as he searched for the most respectful words, "You are early! I am most... I am most pleased, Lord Dekarus!"
"Yes, yes... pleased. Well, come, I wish to examine your progress."
Dekarus was sinister enough, but the way Parius stood sniveling behind him with his twisted sneer made the entire situation all the more terrifying. Larker stood as quickly as his brittle bones would allow, and followed Dekarus out into the cold halls. The stone passageways were soaked from the rain violently pouring in through the tall arched windows. Streams of flood water followed the trio all the way down the spiral staircases into the lower catacombs. The screams and wails of the imprisoned women followed as well, and Larker tightly shut his eyes in a failed attempt to ignore them. Dekarus and Parius were not bothered at all by the environment. Eventually Larker forced conversation to distract himself. "Lord Dekarus, why is it that you are here so early and without notice? The journey to Irtia from Durbalad is not one made lightly!"
"I had business in Ridge. Crossing Izer Reef during the return journey was ideal."
Parius found the need to add to the conversation, and said obnoxiously, "What does it matter, Lord Dekarus can visit as he pleases! It is not as if we have anything to hide."
Larker could not help but give Parius a contrite look. "Boy, keep your nose in it's proper place."
Dekarus, to Larker's surprise and relief, let out a chuckle. "The old man is right, Parius, blessings fall from your mouth far too easily for them to bear meaning." As the conversation met its end, Parius scowled at Larker, and the old man knew he might regret his comment later.
From there, Dekarus's tour took its usual route. He walked the catacombs and examined the potentials first. It always turned out the same, with much head shaking and disappointed lecturing. Afterwords, Dekarus would view Larker's and Parius's methods in the torture chamber. Here Parius far surpassed Larker, and Dekarus commended his imagination. Lastly, the three would view the list of ideals; women that Larker and Parius agreed could be the psion. Larker never said it aloud, but reviewing the ideals always seemed to be Dekarus's favorite part of the tour. It started as it always did, Parius led the women into the examination chamber and chained them to the walls, and Dekarus politely asked to be left alone with them.
Tonight there were four on the list of ideals. Subject 115, 181, 320, and subject 496. The women were all of similar age, except for 320, who looked so young she may have not begun bleeding. The low round chamber had no torches. The only light came from the storm's lightning through a grate in the ceiling, which now poured water into a similar floor grate. Blood of the failed ideals marked the floor, and Dekarus slowly crossed over the stains towards the four mages. He began by waving his hand towards the chamber door, and all sound from beyond became muffled. After the spell, the only sounds left in the room were the sobbing of the girls, the fall of the rain, and the tapping of Dekarus's boots as he walked.
"So... there are four of you. Let us begin." The lord stepped to subject 115 and grabbed her face, examining her as if purchasing a horse. "Tsk, no you will not do. I've seen street whores with better faces." And he stepped to 181, examining her as well. "You, perhaps. You are certainly one of the prettier ones I have seen, but we will wait and see if you even possess arcane blood." Dekarus barely spent a moment with 320, after a single look he said "Far too young," and moved onto the last subject, Grandymire.
Grandymire's black hair fell in front of her face, and as Dekarus approached, he moved to push it aside. 496 didn't hesitate to respond, "I wouldn't do that."
"What? Perhaps you don't understand, you are worthless. I am here to give your life meaning. So, let us try this again." Dekarus pushed Grandymire's hair aside and held her face. She was beautiful despite the mud and blood coating her face. Dekarus smirked, "Well, it appears we have two ideals, not four," and he took a step back, waved his hand, and 115 and 320 fell from their bindings onto the floor, dead.
Dekarus smiled cruelly. "Now, let's begin the exam."
No comments:
Post a Comment