Refusing to acknowledge anyone, the duke had marched all the way to Ivar’s quarters, which were situated in an out-of-the-way part of the fortress that offered a measure of seclusion. This suited the magician well, as his experiments and magical endeavors could be disruptive at times – and occasionally downright disturbing to passersby. Tolthurdine needed to discuss this latest complication in private, and they may well need to avail themselves of the wizard’s resources. A solution would need to be found immediately. But first, the problem had to be correctly identified.

  Tolthurdine placed himself in Ivar’s study and impatiently waited for the mage to catch up to him, using the interval in an attempt to compose himself. He immediately shut the door when the elderly man tottered in, wheezing with the effort he had made to hurry. Then he rounded on the man savagely.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Tolthurdine demanded. “We did everything correctly, down to the last detail!” He roughly seized the mage by his collar and glared into his eyes. They were wide with fear.

  “I know I did everything right. Did you mess something up, old man?” he hissed.

  Ivar ran a trembling hand over his face. “It must have been...the site. I believe it was originally used as a portal to consult with the spirits of the dead. But there are hints that other activities – more specialized, more...powerful and dire went on there. Souls being reallocated, stored – even imprisoned.

  “We don’t know what happened to the people that raised the menhir and originally used the site for their eldritch goals. There is the occasional, fleeting reference in the secret histories to them being exterminated or driven away into the wilderness, and thereby passing out of the pages of the historical record altogether. But I have come to suspect that they vanished because they left this corporeal realm behind; they ascended to another plane for a different destiny. Yet for all that, some few lingered – because they were judged unworthy or needed to be punished. And I now further suppose that those souls – perhaps malign, insane or just intransigent and nonconformist – remained here, confined within the hill, bound by magic ancient and potent, until they were inadvertently sucked into the arcane maelstrom of the ritual...and channeled into the body of Eymund.”

  The wizard paused and took a deep breath, gathering his fortitude to deliver the awful, inevitable conclusion.

  Even this brief pause was too much for the duke to tolerate. “And what the fuck does that mean, exactly?!?” Tolthurdine shouted.

  “Now these souls are...asserting themselves.”

  Tolthurdine didn’t know how to respond. He was aghast at this revelation. It was too horrific to be believed – or at least absorbed all at once. Dread and fury vied for dominance within him.

  “You say this now?!? This didn’t occur to you before?”

  “We needed access to earth magic, and this was the best location where we could divert some for our own purposes,” the mage offered hastily. “It stands to reason that others before us would have done the same. I think it’s important to consider that any place powerful enough to facilitate what we did will come – necessarily so – with its attendant risks.”

  “Why didn’t you discover this while we were there?” the duke asked in scathing tones.

  Magicians are not apt to apologize. However, they are inclined to excuse themselves with explanations. “I am only able to offer some conjecture with the benefit of hindsight. These are...spiritual matters. I’m not a cleric, your grace.”

  “Fortunately for you, I have one at my disposal,” Tolthurdine retorted bitterly. “Guards! Find Vissavald and fetch him hither!”

  While he awaited the cleric’s arrival Tolthurdine spent the time pacing back and forth in Ivar’s chambers like a caged beast. Finally Vissavald appeared, followed by a pair of acolytes that acted as his scribes and messengers. Vissavald instructed them to remain just outside the threshold while the duke impatiently beckoned the priest in. Vissavald looked greatly disturbed as he bowed before his master.

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  However, before Tolthurdine could utter a word the priest was already expostulating. “I detect the taint of violation, the natural order of life has been contravened!” he exclaimed. “My sense of this cannot be mistaken – the iron law of mortals has as one of its axioms an ancient principle – one body, one soul. How can this be? How came your son to this abject state?” He wrung his hands in distress.

  “Eymund has been restored to me using a rite of great power,” Tolthurdine explained, in a way that suggested he was attempting to exercise forbearance. “And it should not surprise you that such a rite necessitated sacrifice. We have now become aware that there have been unfortunate...complications. You saw what just happened. I need you to perform an exorcism,” he declared.

  Vissavald blinked.

  “Your grace - this would not be the same as casting out demons!”

  “Don’t give me that bilge! I’ve seen shamans draw spirits out of women who were possessed! This is the same thing!”

  “I’ll grant you there is a similarity, milord, but these are not human spirits. Nor are they infernal entities subject to my craft. These are alien - inhuman. Since your return I have been conducting research into the site that was used, as it piqued my interest. From my own sources I have learned much. The denizens that erected those stone circles ages ago were not men. Rather they were reptilian in nature - lizard men, an ancient race of loathsome creatures thankfully now vanquished – or at least retreated deep into the shadows.

  “When your son attacked Vadus, it was because the item the commander was wearing about his neck had been wrought by their hands. I hail from the same land as our commander. Perhaps you are aware that the ancestral lore of the family of Vadus has a prominent tale of a forefather who generations ago put a tribe of such lizard men to the sword and looted their abominable temple. Doubtless, this gorget was a piece of the loot from that expedition. When Eymund, possessed by lizard men from ages passed recognized it they were whipped into a vengeful frenzy. The sight of it incited them to overpower Eymund’s psyche and allowed them to attack.”

  Tolthurdine listened to this gravely but was only interested in how the information could be used to succor his son. “Eymund is strong, and like everyone in our family is resolute. He won’t be so easily pushed aside,” he said dismissively. “It seems to me there must be a way to suppress these spirits even if they cannot immediately be extracted.”

  “I don’t see how; I have no sense of their vital essence. There is no affinity between our kind – our different natures make us incompatible. I doubt I would be able to compel them. And from what I discerned....there are so many.”

  “Perhaps he will recover with some rest. As he regains strength his will might be able to counter them.”

  Vissavald eyed the duke with alarm. It was not like his lord to indulge in wishful thinking. He must truly be desperate. But only the truth offered the possibility of a solution. “His condition will only worsen and it can do naught else, for this is an abomination.”

  “Have a care, priest,” Tolthurdine said in an icy growl. “Now heed my words: you have served me well in the past, and have played your own part in furthering my designs. But I warn you -“

  But the devout Vissavald, not to be placated when it came to matters of sacred doctrine, interrupted his lord. “Such a thing is an affront to Creation! There must be ceremonies of expiation and propitiation. Mark you, otherwise the gods will withdraw their blessing from this land!” He raised a shaking index finger, pointing to the heavens. “Eymund must be cleansed, it is the only way!”

  “Cleansed?”

  “Fire. We must construct a pyre immediately. The body must be purged so that the spirit may be freed. The fierce purity of fire will burn away – Ahhhk!”

  The cleric’s frenzied counsel was abruptly cut off as Tolthurdine’s blade sank into his chest. Blood showered forth from the wound, too much for his thirsty sword to absorb at once. It was matched by a red rivulet that streamed from his gaping mouth. Tolthurdine withdrew his sword and Vissavald pitched to the polished floor. His acolytes quailed in fear and fled.

  Tolthurdine turned to Ivar, who had sunk into a chair in a horrified daze. He pointed the tip of his weapon toward the mage to get his attention. He got it.

  Tolthurdine took a deep breath and drew himself up, throwing back his shoulders. “Right. Here is what is going to happen next. These are intelligent entities, correct? Not bestial, but capable of reasoning, for all the madness my son exhibits. That means communication is possible. We can open up some sort of dialogue. They must want something – mayhap they can be bargained with.”

  “My lord,” Ivar protested, “aside from a paltry handful of words I do not know the tongue of these creatures, and I fear there is no extant source to learn anything more of it. Although...”

  “Although??” the duke prompted, his voice laden with menace.

  “There is a spell in one of my tomes that should be able to render their speech intelligible to me, should they choose to treat with us. I will have to consult the pertinent text and gather the necessary reagents.”

  “Good. Work fast, Ivar. I shall step out for a moment to fetch a guard to discretely dispose of Vissavald’s body. Then I shall return, and you’ll be ready, won’t you? I don’t wish to be kept waiting.” And stepping over the corpse Duke Tolthurdine exited the apartment.