General Population (10 page)

The man would not answer but continued to dance and sing to the flames.

"You will answer me, fool!"

The singing became louder and billows of smoke erupted from the fire. Each cloud swirled with different shades of gray, black, and white.

"Perhaps you did not hear me?" Krazek pushed his hands forward, releasing lightning-infused power toward the Shaman. His insolence would not be tolerated and Krazek was sure that he would kill the man.

He did not.

An apparition of a man with an ox's head, carrying a giant tortoise shell as a shield withheld his powerful blast. The Shaman continued to dance as if oblivious to the attack.

"Impossible!" Calling on even darker magic he unleashed a blast of pure flame into the apparition. The ox's head opened its mouth and streams of smoke and wind pushed the flames back toward the wizard. He could feel the heat coming back at him, his clothing singed from the fire. He quickly ceased his attack. "What manner of magic is this?"

The man changed his song, and his dance became wild with more enthusiastic chanting. The apparition vanished into the cloud of smoke. For the first time, the native looked the wizard in the eyes. He did not speak to him, but Krazek knew the look, as he had seen it many times. The Shaman was challenging him.

"It's a wizard's duel you want? I accept, savage!"

Krazek removed his robe, shirt, and shoes. He would tap into all manner of magic for this one. This one had a power he'd never felt before.
That ghost,
he thought.
It felt so … alive.

The Shaman stepped in front of his fire and faced the wizard. He continued to chant in musical rhythm. It was so strange to the wizard. There was no one else, but he could hear drums playing all around him or her, as if there were others urging the Shaman on.
 

Calling on dark powers, Krazek spoke words that made the ground shake. Demonic tentacles began to swirl around the Shaman. They were octopus-like with boney protrusions all around them. They engulfed the native and attempted to squeeze the life out of him. They slowly began to drag him down into the depths of the Earth until nothing remained but a hole where the Shaman had stood.
 

Laughing, Krazek approached the hole and looked down at his handy-work. That wasn't as much of a challenge as he'd hope it would be. But those damned drums wouldn't stop. They had grown louder, in fact.
 

Without warning a large eagle burst from the hole, its beak holding one of the tentacles in its mouth, ripped from whatever hell beast Krazek had conjured. He watched as the eagle morphed from bird to man. The Shaman then stood perched on a tree spitting the tentacle from his mouth.

The drums were louder; so loud they began to hurt the wizard’s ears. The noise was starting to drive him to madness, so he hurled fireballs and blasts of ice at his opponent. None seemed to make their mark. From man to an animal the Shaman transformed into a squirrel, a rabbit, a lizard and back to a man.

The sounds of the drums overwhelmed his mind and he could no longer speak the words needed to command his magic. He fell to his knees, exhausted and in pain.

The drums stopped and Krazek opened his eyes to find ghostly apparitions had surrounded him. No, not ghosts. He felt in his soul that these were something else. They possessed human bodies, each with the heads of different animals.
 

These were the spirits that the natives worshiped and commanded. He had been beaten by them; called upon by that strange Shaman, who had now vanished from sight.

"Kill me then!" he shouted. "Take your prize!"

A spirit with the head of an eagle approached him. He held a tiny ax in one of his hands, decorated with strange markings that Krazek had never seen. Fear dawned on him when he realized that the spirits intended to do just what he had told them and scalp his head as a prize.

"Wait," said Krazek. "No! Please!"

The eagle spirit raised his ax in the air and brought it down hard. Krazek's screams were heard throughout the lands. The fear of death was in the air, but when the screaming stopped there was nothing.

Krazek was alive but broken. The spirits, the Shaman, and the fire were all gone.
 

It was on that day, the most powerful wizard in the world broke down and cried.
 

And he would never forget that humiliation.

The tower that the sorcerer called home was unimpressive to Maddix to say the least. The Statsnys nor any other skilled tradespeople in Malevolent had built it, but by the wizard himself. He considered himself to be of a caliber so great that to accept help from any lowly creature was an obscene concept. So instead, he laid each brick himself, built every piece of furniture, and carved every decoration. It showed, too. Each brick was chipped and worn, and preventative maintenance was not on the agenda for this lone wizard.
 

The tower itself was fairly tall and leaned to the left. Not so much that it was in any danger of tipping, but enough to make anyone think twice about climbing to the top floor. It wasn't life-threatening height wise, but having a few thousand pounds of brick and mortar come crashing down on top of you was more of a concern to most reasonable people.

Maddix approached the tower with his two new constable friends. He liked this idea of working together. They were all in the same boat now, and tragedy often makes strange bedfellows.
Better than sharing coffins
, he reminded himself.
 

The door was in bad shape, with rotted wood and rusted metal holding it together, and a wolf-shaped knocker in the center. Maddix was almost afraid to use it in case the door couldn't stand the pounding. Nevertheless, he did knock on the door and it stayed intact.

Expectedly, the door opened on its own. Krazek was known for creepy theatrics in place of real magic, and his home was rigged to react a certain way to maintain a certain level of fear in the realm. It never actually worked.

The first floor was surprisingly clean and every piece of furniture was well-built and maintained. It was a total contrast to the outside view.

"Come in, Overseer," said a creepy voice from nowhere.

Maddix was unimpressed. "I don't have time for games. I need to ask you some things."

"Of course."

After instructing the constables to wait outside, Maddix walked into the tower. Making his way down a wooden staircase was Krazek. He was older looking than Maddix remembered. His eyes appeared sunken in and frail.

"Good day, Overseer," Krazek greeted. "So pleased that you are granting me such a gracious visit. Care for some tea? My living area is just upstairs."

"No thanks, I just have a few questions. Won't be staying long."

"Understandable. But if you wouldn't mind accompanying me upstairs anyway, it is my tea time and I have a pot ready."

Maddix didn't like the idea of using the wizard's homemade stairs, but he agreed anyway.

The living space was an isolationists dream. There was barely a window to be found and many different candles lighted the whole area. Two plush chairs were arranged on either side of a tiny table with a tea service place on top. The steam from the teapot smelled delicious. Maddix was more of a coffee person, but he did know when he smelled some gourmet tea.

Krazek invited Maddix to sit with him, and he poured himself a cup. He made one more offer of tea that Maddix politely declined again, noting to himself that two cups were already laid out on the service.

"Were you expecting company today?" asked Maddix.

"Not at all, but I feel like it is better to be prepared. I would hate to have company show up unannounced and not have a place for them."
 

Maddix wasn't in the mood for much small talk. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"I would think that would be my question," laughed Krazek. "But I imagine you are here about those killings."

"You know about them then?"

"Oh yes, quite well. I keep my ear to the ground. You suspect magic is involved. Otherwise, you would not be here."

"That's about right."
 

Krazek put his cup down and folded his fingers over his belly. "I can tell you that I have no involvement in this. Let us just get that out of the way."

"I'm not making accusations. Just looking for information."

"Of course you are. I assume some of the inhabitants are starting to question your authority here. I noticed you brought armed escorts with you."
 

"Not at all," said Maddix. "Everyone has been very cooperative."

"Excellent," boasted Krazek. "Then ask your questions, Overseer. I am here to serve."

"I'll cut to the chase. There is something really wrong with the magic in this place. You are the only resident here that dabbles in magic. I need to know what you know."

Krazek's smile went ear-to-ear. To say that he was delighted to see a weakening of authority was an understatement. "As I said before, I have nothing to do with what is going on out there. I am powerless here, as you already know."

"So you say. Give me some speculation then."

Krazek paused. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, but it seemed longer. "What do you know about the magic here?"

"I only know that it is a part of the pact, and it protects myself from danger so that I can freely keep watch."

"No."

"No?" Maddix raised an eyebrow.

"Not exactly. The pact is why you are here. The magic itself comes from the gate."

Maddix knew the gate well. It was the doorway in and out of the realm. "Go on."

"How much do you know about me … Benbrook is it?"

"I know enough. You dabbled in the black arts and murdered thousands."

"Dabbled?" Krazek's eyes narrowed. "I harnessed the black arts and shaped them to do my bidding. Magicians dabble, Overseer, I command!"

"Used to command."

Krazek composed himself. "Touché."

"Enough with the pissing contest. Get to the point."

"As you already know, I was the most powerful of the sorcerers. Many tried to challenge me and steal my power, but all failed. I was the last, or so I thought. The first great purge had forced me into seclusion like the others that rot in this prison. I saw the new world as an opportunity to keep domain over mankind. To my surprise, the savages there possessed a power, unlike anything I had ever seen."

"Yet you called them savages?"

"They were! Simpletons and peasants, all of them! They didn't deserve the gifts they possessed. It should have been mine!"

"So you tried to kill them all like a jealous child because you wanted their toys?"

The man disgusted Maddix, and that became worse as they spoke.
 

"Not quite. I used all of my knowledge to take their power, but nothing worked. It was not magic at all. I learned it too late—they were speaking with gods. Nature was their weapon. It was this knowledge that helped build this place and construct the gate, an amalgamation of steel and fervent spiritual power! That is why I cannot cast in this realm and the prisoners cannot harm you. You are protected by spirits conjured by savages, and they are bound to that gate."

"That doesn't make sense. Why aren't the constables guarded as I am? Why do they have to wear those badges of theirs?"

"I do not know the answer to that, but I can tell you that it is dark magic contained within each one of them. I can feel it when they are around. Possibly Egyptian magic created by ancient necromancers."

"Yes," Maddix began, "but they are getting killed out there. My assistant and I have both been attacked. Something is not right."

"And I have no real answers for you. As long as the gate remains locked, the magic will remain in effect, and no one knows how to unlock the gate."

"Well then," said Maddix, standing up. "I guess there is nothing else to say."

"Then I bid you good day."

Maddix walked toward the door but stopped short to look at Krazek.

"Just one more question … I read somewhere that they had some resistance when first creating the prison."

"Your point?" inquired Krazek.

"I'm pretty sure that I read something about you being a big part of that resistance. That you had infiltrated the Founding Fathers and learned about the plan to banish all of you."

"Skewered history, Overseer Benbrook. I merely overheard the drunken ramblings of a pathetic man in a tavern trying to forget his troubles at the bottom of a pint."

"My mistake then," said Maddix. "Bye for now."

When Maddix walked out of the wizard's home, he found that he had trusted him less than he already had. It was obvious that even in his imprisoned life in Malevolent, the man was still a megalomaniac with delusions of being a god amongst sheep. He had more knowledge than he was letting on, though. Maddix was sure of that. The history books weren't anything if not at least accurate. Did he know about the key? He hoped not because that would be a problem.
 

He wanted to get back to the station immediately. The situation was grimmer if the wizard had found a way to take advantage of the situation and find the key. Not that Krazek could find it if he wanted to, Maddix made sure of that. In the meantime, he needed to take his armed escorts and update them on the way.

"Come on, guys, let's get back to the station and … guys?"

The two constables were standing directly in front of Maddix as their bodies began to spasm. Maddix could see the wasps firmly attached to the constables' necks with their long stingers tearing into the back of their heads. He watched in disgust as they began to burrow their way through the newly formed holes opened up by the vicious stingers. Once completely inside, the constables’ bodies went completely rigid for a few seconds followed by a cracking of neck bone.

"Talk to me, fellas. Can you hear me?"

Following the sound of his voice, the two men turned to face him. Their eyes were clouded over, as the others were, and the expressions on their faces were like that of a zombie.