Suddenly, a jagged bolt of searing, yellow lightning shot forth from the crystal. It hit Inkling and the imp was engulfed by it. It held the trembling imp in its glowing grasp. The table he had been under was now nothing more than so much ash and smoke. The humming bolt slowly undulated through the air, like some wild electric snake.
The imp’s black eyes opened wide and filled with terror. His scaly skin bubbled, hissed, and swelled, as his shape shifted this way and that. The fist of magical energy that gripped him, slung him against the wall of the tower, smashing a hole the size of a large wagon cart that revealed the dim evening. From below, shouts of alarm, and pain rang out as blocks of bricks and broken stone rained down on the people from above.
Pael shuddered and collapsed. It was no longer his power holding the spell; it was the demon’s power. It was all the wizard could do to keep his eyes open to see what was happening to his familiar.
It was no quick process. The imp stretched, swelled, and screamed horribly into the night as the demon reshaped him. His body grew long and feline, like a giant warhorse-sized panther, whose tail was barbed and as long as a whip. The imp’s wings elongated and spread wide, like those of a wyvern, or a great dactyl. His claws grew long and razor sharp, and every inch of his body became as dark as the deepest night. Teeth, eyes, claws, fur and scales were all nearly indistinguishable, for the quality of their blackness.
The brilliant kinetic display ended abruptly, leaving the menacing looking result flapping its huge wings in a hover, just outside the gaping hole in Pael’s tower.
“Use this gift wisely Pael, for this is your familiar now,” the fading, yet still powerful voice of the spectral demon commanded. “Open the seal for me, and do it soon!”
With that the voice, and the ozonic power that it radiated, disappeared with a sharp pop.
Pael felt, as much as heard, the sound of the demon’s departure, and he was more than relieved by it.
Apparently, he had underestimated the spectral demon’s power. This alarmed him. The demon did need him though, that was obvious. He would just have to make sure that when he opened the doorway to the Nethers, that he had a way to bind Shokin to his service. That was a dilemma for another day though. He needed rest.
Almost as an afterthought, he turned towards the hellcat waiting outside his tower. He could still feel the familial bond with the creature, but he knew that it was no longer Inkling.
“Kill the one that wields Pavreal’s blade, and bring the sword to me!” Pael rasped the order, then closed his eyes and crumpled to the floor.
Chapter 21
As they traveled deeper into the foothills of the Giant Mountains, Hyden found himself thinking about the tale the elf Vaegon had told him, or more precisely, of the things that he hadn’t been told in the story.
He wondered what had happened to the other wolf pup, the one that had disappeared into the blizzard. Had it starved? Maybe it grew up to be strong and fierce, like the wolf that attached itself to Pratchert.
He glanced up into the clear, blue sky and saw Talon circling protectively above them; and then he went back to his thoughts. Dog Man! What a nickname: the Great Wizard, Dog Man? What a title. He laughed at the thought of some colorfully dressed herald calling that out at some royal ceremony. That provoked another series of thoughts and ideas, which only served to create more questions in his curious mind.
“Lord Gregory, who announces people at a kingdom…uh?” he stammered, and stuttered, searching for the word he was after. “A…uh… Council meeting?”
“We call it the Royal Court,” Lord Gregory answered.
The Western Lion had been feeling better with each passing day. He had even climbed down off of his horse and walked for half of a day, to help work the poison that remained in him, out of his muscles and joints.
They had been going downhill that morning. He tried walking uphill in the afternoon, but he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. The exertion had him back in the saddle, feeling weak and exhausted.
“The Court Announcer at my stronghold in Lake Bottom is also the local Sail Master,” Lord Gregory told him. Thoughts of his home put a smile on his face. “He’s a tiny little man, with a big deep voice. The King’s Royal Court Announcer at Lakeside Castle is as big as a whale and he stays in his cups. No one in the whole Kingdom of Westland can figure out how he gets all the names and titles right, even the strange foreign ones, especially while he is so stupendously drunk.”
“What’s a whale?” Hyden asked.
“It’s a giant sea fish, as big as that hill over there, and it breathes air through a hole in the top of its head,” the nobleman answered.
“Just because I’m not a kingdom born man,” Hyden said with a hint of anger in his voice, “don’t think you could have me believe just anything.”