Chapter 89 Chapter 50: The Ritual (3)
Ilias came back from scouting, and his expression wasn’t any bit better from what Shailyn could make out in the darkness.
She gestured at him to follow as she moved, getting to a corner around the pine forest where she would have a less restriction on casting the weave to reduce the wind and snow storm again. Spells in themselves were against natural laws. They change, bend the natural laws of the world, but if you can work with nature, then do it, cause there you’ll have less restriction to achieve the weave. And less restriction meant less energy wasted, and the longevity of the spell.
“What did you find?” She asked without wasting time, completing the weave.
Winds curled around them in a circle, and so was the heavy snowfall, magically reduced with the wind in the two metres radius circle they were in. Without it, making out any voice would be difficult in such a snowstorm. Ilias literally would have to yell to answer her.
“There were fourteen of them I found on the lookout,” he said. “We can’t sneak in without letting them know our arrival. From the looks of it, they didn’t seem sloppy, though the snowstorm made their job difficult.”
“What of the others?” Shailyn asked. “The warlock and his associates, who else is with him, and have you found what he’s preparing?”
Ilias shook his head. “It seemed there’s some fortification in place, but I did make out they were going for some sacrificial ritual as you told before. At least half a dozen more should be inside it. Perhaps the rogue knight you mentioned is there, too. I didn’t find him outside.”
So about twenty of them, or more. They had less than that the last time she and Noyar encountered them, not to mention the warlock left behind some number with the hostages, and they put down half a dozen. So it's most likely he had another team prepared. It would be even more troublesome than she had assumed, and perhaps would be almost impossible with just the two of them.
“We’ll move as planned,” Shailyn commanded. “Bring their number down first before attacking the main hold.” She looked up at the skies. The fifth moon finally came out, though still behind the clouds, it didn’t make any difference. “Something terrible they are brewing. We can’t make them proceed with it.”
. . .
Yeriel’s mind was almost numb with the pain. She tried a couple more times to channel the spirit energy after her channels were freed, and in both of them, the pain was so much that she couldn’t complete anything she tried.
On the second time she figured out she was doing something wrong, she felt foolish now. Why was she trying to affect the outside when her first intention should be breaking the imprint that causes all the pain? Well, no one could blame her with her condition and the situation she was in.
Still, her first try at on the imprint was an utter failure. Certainly, the warlock wouldn’t leave behind something that she could break easily and mess up, the ritual he was preparing for years. No, just getting her spirit to attack that imprint was painstakingly hard, it hurts even more comparing with the others time, but perhaps she had tried the dozen times like this she could have freed it already.
But she didn’t have a dozen chances any more, perhaps a couple of times more before her mind would give in. But it's possible to break the imprint. She had to draw it delicately, with a softer hand. However, when attacking, she has to thrust it with full force. In one full sweep, she would have to break it, or she would the sacrifice.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like she had much time left. The warlock returned to the altar, behind him his apprentice and others followed. Dozens of candles lit circling her in a circular star pattern with six openings. There was some prudent smell in the air too. They had smeared some animal blood on the circle.
“We’ll begin now,” Rojar Iker said, “bring the sacrifice.”
He didn’t look back to see if they were doing what he asked or not, but moved towards Yeriel, who was still pinned down on the spot, holding a crown of antlers in his hand. Yeriel tried to lift her eyes struggling and found the warlock putting the hideous-looking crown made of deer antler on her head. He was not even a bit gentle about it, thrust it so that it would stick on her head throughout.
‘Are they from winterheart reindeer?’ she wondered, and found the rogue knight carrying a white cub, curling up into a small furry ball, though its eyes were teary, and mouth bound so that it couldn’t cry. Its antler hadn’t grown well, still they were half a foot long.
Rial put the cub across from her in one of the six openings, while the Warlock cast a spell of immobility as well, so that it wouldn’t run around and make a mess of the circle.
Yeriel’s mind was on the edge since yesterday, and it hadn’t calmed after that. But now, it has almost reached the point of no return. She tried again, drawing slow, deliberate strands of spirit energy, condensing together to make a small sharp needle of spirit energy. Without looking back, she forced into the mind image, to the dark glowing imprint.
Chilling pain assaulted her brain, and she groaned, feeling her mind breaking, her soul shivering, her spirit wavering. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the impaling pain. It's working; a little more. She had to hold on a little more and she could make it. Perhaps she won’t be free from the clutches of the warlock, but she could damage the altar and buy time.
Buy time for what?
The warlock had mentioned nobody’s coming for her and even if they came; he has everything ready. They can’t save her, they would only get themselves involved in this.
‘No,’ Yeriel jerked awake with thoughts. Whatever it is, she couldn’t let them do this terrible ritual that needs a sacrifice of one of the pure breed of saint beast. ‘Oh Ishar, I can’t let this happen.’ Pain consumed her head, but she pushed. No, it was not just her spirit that wavering, the imprint too was shaking.
She summoned all her willpower and went through. Her mind crashed, and so did the imprint. It broke and dissolved. For a moment, she was free, for a fraction of a second she was free.
Then the weight of a familiar, yet terrible force of spirit pressed into her. “I said, I always get what I want,” Rojar Iker said, lifting his head towards her. “I forbade you to try anything foolish, but I seemed to have underestimated your foolishness. To break the imprint, you’ve cursed yourself whole. Even I’m not sure if you can make it with your sanity now.”
“Master, she cannot make it,” Kiea spoke from behind. “She already collapsed even before the ritual. Let me take her place, let me--”
“Silence,” the warlock’s voice chilled her. “We’ll begin now. Take your position.”
They did. Half a dozen of the practitioners, including him, stood by the six openings. Prominent among them were the Rogue Knight Rial, Sirius—the warlock’s brother, and Kiea—the warlock’s apprentice.
“We’re ready,” Rial announced, all their hands cupped together.
The ritual was just too big. Opening a gateway through the spiritual realm takes a heavy toll on their mind, none of them have any experience in it. Even though Yeriel would be the one who would suffer the most as it would directly assault her, the six of them would need to work together to make sure the ritual is complete, and that’s not a simple task, creating the gateway and keeping it open for a fraction.
Rojar nodded, while Yeriel wept with the winterheart reindeer cub.
“Oh GREAT LORD OF THE DARK,” Rojar called, as five other minions followed in the echoes. “I call you on my soul, I call you on the heart . . .”
The warlock brought out a hand knife and cut across his palm. He smeared all the blood that came out on the altar. “I call you with my blood, I call you with my Bone.” He tossed a piece of bone into the altar, smeared in his blood.
The others didn’t follow with their blood or bones, as Rojar was in the lead in the ritual.
Though there’s no wind inside the fortification, all of them felt the chill, in their soul, in their heart, in their blood and bones.
“OH GREAT FATHER OF DARKNESS, I CALL YOU FROM THE DARKNESS INTO THE WORLD OF DARKNESS. HEAR MY CALL, OH FATHER OF BLINDNESS, LET YOUR PRESENCE BE KNOWN AGAIN INTO THE WORLD OF MEN.”
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