Death of an Adept

This new assault cut off the old man's anguished moan, its force snapping his head back against Barclay's chest, eyes bulging and tongue protruding in a silent rictus of distress as one hand wrenched free of Mallory's grasp to claw ineffectually at the garrote choking out his life.

But even as his struggles began to weaken, Raeburn was moving in with grim determination, somewhat regretting the need to sacrifice Taliere in this manner - but what better to summon and bind a magician than the blood of another magician, and especially one of Taliere's calibre? And only the threefold death would satisfy Taranis, in whose service this night's work was being performed.

The Soulis dagger in one hand, Raeburn seized a handful of the old Druid's long white hair in the other and bade Barclay release the garrote, then wrenched Taliere's head sharply to the right and struck deep at the base of the left ear to sever both the jugular and the carotid artery. Blood gushed from the wound, bespattering Raeburn and Barclay and almost instantly dyeing the front of the white Druid robes with gore.

Any outcry Taliere might have made by this time ended in a liquid gurgle, drowning in his own blood as he was held face-down over the mouth of the cauldron so that his life's blood might bathe the dagger further and mingle with the burning oil and water below. As the stench of burnt blood reinforced the brimstone reek of the sulphur, and the victim's struggles slowly subsided, Raeburn cast his gaze searchingly above the cauldron, still well aware of the entity not yet manifest but drawn by the blood and the sacrifice.

"Yes, come and drink," he whispered, sharpening the focus of his will through the dagger and inviting Soulis to feast - for he had no doubt that the entity summoned by the treble link of dagger, blood, and cauldron, was, indeed, the essence of William Lord Soulis. "Come and feast, dark spirit. But know that if you do, I bind you to these elements of your demise, by debt of blood and power of this blade. I wish you no ill, but I have a proposition for you. If you do not wish to hear it, I can send you back; or if you hear it and refuse, I still can send you back."

Heart pounding, he waited, sensing the angry energy roiling above the cauldron, held back by the potency of the blade in his hand from feasting on Taliere's waning life energy, yet lured by the blood and the promise of blood. Barclay and Mai-lory had stiffened as he addressed the empty air, and glanced at him in alarm as an invisible force seemed to wrench suddenly at the blade.

"You shall not have him save by my leave!" Raeburn said sharply, pulling the dagger from under the waning stream of Taliere's blood, but stabbing it more forcefully at the contents of the cauldron. "If you will have his life's essence, bind yourself to the discipline of this blade. If you do not, I shall send you back whence you came. Long centuries may pass before another gives you even temporary respite from what you have endured these seven hundred years!"

He could sense the angry surge of power over the cauldron, brooding and malevolent, but it could not manifest without his assent. There ensued a brief, fierce struggle of opposing wills as the entity struggled for ascendancy; but centuries of dark confinement had robbed the banished soul of the strength to prolong the contest. Quick to sense weakness, Raeburn brought further force to bear and had the exquisite satisfaction of feeling his opponent capitulate, shrinking into still-disembodied focus in and around the dagger in his hand.

But until compliance came of compulsion, not coercion, Raeburn could not be sure of even a temporary bargain. Slowly, cautiously, he touched his blade to Taliere's bowed head and bade his reluctant visitor to feed, well aware how the other battened greedily on the old man's last life energies and then descended into the cauldron itself to revel in the blood - and allowed itself to be bound.

And once forged, the binding could not be broken save as Raeburn allowed. Grimly triumphant, he signalled his confederates to lay Taliere's now lifeless body on the ground within the triangle that encompassed the cauldron, himself moving outside the triangle. When Barclay and Mallory had withdrawn to stand flanking Angela, far on the other side of the circle, Raeburn pointed the dagger into the cauldron once more, directing the force of his will toward the entity contained therein.

"William de Soulis, know me for your summoner," he declared, utterly focused on his intent. "I called you by name, and you came. I offered you blood, and you fed. By these two articles, you are compelled to recognize my authority. In token of my mastery, I charge you to show yourself, by taking the place that has been prepared for you."