Princil's Magic : Ch.10 : Festival At Bricas (Part 2: Aldareg the Sorceror))

Ch.10 : Festival At Bricas (Part 2 : Aldareg, the Sorceror)

 

    Eventually the people of Bricas began to leave. The drug had worn off and served its purpose. Some who were still keen stayed, determined to spend the whole night until sunrise, but they needed more of the drug to keep themselves going.

 

    As Aribor made his way down the hill to the city below a dark cloaked man joined his path from above, following him. A message of presence made him aware that this was a fellow sorcerer. “Wait. Wait for me Aribor!”

 

     Aribor turned to see who followed him. The sorcerer pulled his hood back as he approached to reveal a thick Grumandrian mane of long matted dark hair. He felt impatience. The business of his work for the King was not what he wanted now, after the scenes he had witnessed and participated in. The calm he was feeling would be rudely interrupted by a fellow sorcerer.

 

   “Aldareg!” he called, as he recognised the sorcerer.

 

   “Hail Aribor. I see you have been to the Temple tonight. What a sight. I have never seen the like!”

 

   “Were you there? Surely not in that cloak?” quipped Aribor.

 

   “A cloak of disguise. I used invisibility!” said Aldareg.

 

   “Ah, of course!” said Aribor. He knew the cloak of invisibility well. He had used it himself sometimes. He shuddered at the suspicion that Aldareg might have observed his participation.

 

    “I have been inside the Palace,” said Aldareg. “Did you see them? They drink a drug of some kind, which drove them to sexual madness. They rape each other, not caring who they take. I tell you they took whoever they were near, without thought or desire!” Aldareg gave the impression he thought little of such men and women, and yet Aribor remembered that he knew well this very sorcerer had raped plenty of female prisoners in the years they had come through, for magical power, and doubtless for his own pleasure.

 

    “And surely Aldareg you must have wished you were amongst them and able to participate?” suggested Aribor.

 

   “Perhaps that would have been a pleasure, but I was invisible and we have a task to perform,” said Aldareg. “I think you were amongst these enemies, and I think you did enjoy them?” he accused, “but do not worry. I cannot complain of your behaviour. You carried out your investigation of their festival more closely than any of us. You would be in a good position to carry out the work we have been asked to do here!

 

    “What do you think of their Festival? Would it be possible to cast spells of jealousy and fear amongst them, to make them kill each other perhaps. Would the drink exclude them from our influence or would it make our task easier?”

 

   Aldareg was full of questions and ideas. Aribor wished he had not met him here. “I don’t know. I have not thought about all these matters yet,” Aribor mumbled, trying to avoid Aldareg’s awkward questions.

 

    “Did the drink turn these people and yourself into mindless animals?” the unstoppable Aldareg went on. “Would the drink impede our influence or would it serve such magic? Would we be better served by killing them in their drugged drunkenness or by destroying the Palace while they are within? What are your thoughts?”

 

    Aribor’s mind recoiled! To kill these innocents, these generous people, with whom he had assuaged his lusts? To set them against each other or destroy them horrified him now. Why should he want that? Remzain would never approve. Only King Guthelm and vile sorcerors such as Valdark and Aldareg could want such destruction upon these pleasant, easy people. As with Remzain before Aribor now sought to find some way to deflect the sorcerer from wanting such an outcome, just as he had hoped to save Remzain’s father for her sake, or to protect her family from harm. These people were all he now had of Remzain. He could not want the evil destruction his King ordered!

 

    Aribor was wary. How should he respond to Aldareg’s questions. To tell the truth of his opinion would be very dangerous for him. If he revealed the fulfilment he felt at the Festival, and his new respect for the people he had so recently despised, he would be considered a traitor to his own people and to his King. His fellow sorcerors accepted each other’s perverse inclinations and cruelties, but would not trust one of their number if he were to turn traitor to their King and people. The black sorcerors might entertain a world weary attitude at times towards their King, but they all feared him and they feared each other. They would all do his bidding, and never questioned the direction of his leadership. He had brought them to these shores for the greatness of his expanding realm, to prove that Shalirion was no competitor and its people were good enough only to be his servants. The soldiers and sorcerors of Grumandria would take back home the riches and artefacts of Shalirion and many women and slaves. They would leave a land broken and despoiled, except those which Guthelm’s allies chose to keep or colonise for themselves.

 

    Aribor had to show his willingness and desire to kill and destroy these enemies of Grumandor. Until he had joined the Festival of Bricas that evening he had not been aware that he could no longer serve his King against the Shalirionites, who thought they were so civilised. He might have been half hearted, still softened and upset by his loss of the beauty Remzain until tonight. His enthusiasm for the conquest had gone but he would have continued to do his duty.

 

    Tonight he had joined the Shalirionites in their festival. He found he had merged more than just his body with the flesh of Guthelm’s enemies. He had joined at least a part of his soul with theirs. Perhaps he had received some understanding of their Goddess, or perhaps just the feeling of common sexual humanity. He found he not only wanted to protect Remzain and her family from his own people, but now he wanted to protect her people from his own. The thought that he might do the bidding of his King, in killing Shalirionites might have been possible yesterday, but no longer after tonight. He could not allow his fellow sorcerors to kill without some attempt to deflect them from such a course.

 

    “Perhaps it is unwise to attack these people so soon when our armies are so far behind in the north and east. We gain no immediate conquest by it. Do you not think our King is too eager?” Aribor asked.

 

   Aldareg laughed dismissively, “This has been said before! It is part of our King’s plan – to put fear into their hearts so they will surrender more easily to us.”

 

    “Don’t you think it might cause them to prepare more effectively. We will lose the elements of surprise, to no tactical advantage,” said Aribor.

 

    “Well I suppose most of us might agree with you on that thought, but our terror can break wills. We have used it to good effect before,” explained Aldareg.

 

     “I did not think Aribor that you would be one to quibble about our orders,” Aldareg went on. “For many years you have not cared too much what your orders were. I thought you would follow orders without question as long as you could have your pleasures on the side. I thought you might be pleased to create terror. Some of us enjoy the freedom to create terror which our King has given us.”

 

    “What of you Aldareg? What drives you in your work?” Aribor asked.

 

     “Like yourself I do my King’s work without question,” answered Aldareg. “Being a sorcerer gives us strange tastes. I enjoy much of the work I do. My work spreads the power of our King, and our people. I am proud of my work. I am pleased when I do a job well. Our King has told us to attack Bricas. The people here are fat and indolent. They have easy lives. They have heard what happened to Cromilil, but they are not expecting to be attacked here – not for a long time. Let us strike at the heart of Shalirion! Shalirion will crumble in chaos if we do Guthelm’s bidding. Valdark instructed us , but he gave us freedom to use our arts as we would wish. I suggest you worry no more about the tactics and concentrate upon our arts. Let us return to practicalities.

 

     “I asked you whether you thought we should collapse the building, trapping the festival goers inside or crushing them?”

 

    “I cannot give you an answer at this moment Aldareg, Aribor said evasively, not wanting to appear uncommitted, while inside his mind whirled with the horror of the deaths which might be brought upon these generous people. “I will think upon these matters. I do hope you and the others will not be rash,” he added. “We must not act until we are ready!” His real reason for saying these things was to put off any actions for as long as possible. He hoped Aldareg would not see through his evasion.

 

    “I understand Aribor. You have been inside those columns and experienced first hand how the soft people make their festivals. You are best placed to think on the horrors which may be inflicted to bring fears into the hearts of these people.”

 

     In his mind’s eye the sorcerer could see the temple roof crashing down upon the festival participants, crushing them at the height of their sexual congress. Would many of them even notice, intoxicated by their liquid drug, in the midst of their drawn out ecstacies. Of course terror would quickly spread, to be soon extinguished by death for most of the victims. Aribor found he could not stomach the images. If he had felt enthusiasm for this crime he might have thought up far more grotesque methods of bringing terror to the adherents of the Goddess. Dark magics could be harvested by the terrors induced in taking captives and forcing them to perform for their dear lives. The end would be the same but far less clean. He hoped that none of the sorcerors would seek to go to such efforts here, where simpler acts of punishment would suffice.