Chapter 6
Grazrath
Magic flows in my veins, hot and potent, rushing to obey my will.
The feeling is heady, like being drunk on the ambrosia of Ethereal, after weeks of being practically mortal.
With a mighty expense of power, I tear a hole into the plane to the Nether.
The sky goes dark, and I watch my minions pour out upon the land through the rift I have created.
Screams and warning bells clang from the settlement below as my demons and imps attack.
A feral smile stretches my lips as bloodlust fills my heart; my war has begun.
I am not able to hold the tear open for long.
Divine power from my nemesis Karnia, the death goddess and my once-jailer, blocks the mortal magic I am expending and the rift snaps shut.
I growl in frustration, but no matter. There are enough imps released to suit my purposes.
I send a mental pulse out to my minions, commanding them telepathically to focus on hunting magic users.
The mage I took from the Tower has already served his purpose, dead and sucked dry so that I might begin my campaign of terror.
I need more warmblooded magic users to drain so that I might continue summoning my forces and grow my army.
Eventually, if I can absorb enough magic, I might be able to free the other archdemons and truly begin the conquering of Anar’i in earnest.
I hover above the town I am attacking, hanging back and letting my forces do my bidding.
Normally, I would be in the midst of the battle, bathing in the blood and pain all around me.
But I am vulnerable now, since being attacked by the fire mage in Barakrin.
The mortal skin that stretches across my chest and up onto my face attests to that.
For the first time in my immortal existence I am able to be killed.
The knowledge sobers and angers me. I do not know what happens to an immortal being when they die.
I have no soul, like a mortal creature does.
I think I would simply cease to be. I cannot risk even an accidental injury now.
The pain and death below still drifts up to me, feeding my unending appetite, soothing the gnawing ache in my belly.
The town guards fight against the imps, struggling to cut down even the weaker demons.
Mortals are often helpless in the face of true power.
Still, there are more of them than there are of my minions and they start to overwhelm my forces.
I am unbothered by this. The imps are just fodder toward my grand designs anyway. I see two imps flying back up to me, carrying struggling humans. I can smell the stench of healing magic on them from up here.
Healers. Perfect.
My smile grows back on my face. Two magic users.
I’ll be able to tear an even bigger rift next time.
More pain, more death. I’ll attack every settlement I pass as I move south, taking as many magic users as I can find.
As I obtain more magic users, I’ll grow my army and hunt my true goal: the lost dragon bones of Wyrmin, the dragon killed by the orcs.
I heard tell of this feat when I was in Barakrin.
If I can find them, that will be the power I need to be able to rip a big enough rift to free the other archdemons.
This is what I should have done in the first place instead of bothering with the ungrateful vampires of Barakrin.
Soon I’ll make my way to Orik’s capital and tear down the castle walls, taking their fairy-blessed queen.
With the unlimited magic in her blood, I’ll be able to enact my plans and undo the damage done by the soul-fire, making myself invulnerable once again.
I’ll crown myself king of Anar’i and then attack those smug gods in Ethereal, taking my revenge for my millennium of imprisonment.
The only thing that may stand in my way is that seer that linked to my mind when I was at the Mage’s Tower.
She could hinder my plans if she can divine my strategy.
I do not think she linked with my mind long enough to know about the bones or my true plan, but I’ll probably have to kill her eventually.
For now, I merely block the mind-tie that has formed between us.
I take off, flying south, getting deeper into Orik, the few remaining imps from my attack following. Nothing can stop me now.