The Twice-Enchanted Blade: Part 7

The ground-floor gate was, to my surprise, half-buried in sand. As we approached, an identical gate opened on the floor above it, and a couple of creatures that resembled hairless grey apes, with huge protruding tusks and armed with large cleavers, put down a ladder to allow us entrance.

“This tower is... peculiar”, commented Astaroth, with a tone of embarrassment unbecoming of such a high-ranking demon, “Perhaps Master will tell you more. This way, please”.

We climbed up the ladder and were guided up a flight of stairs. Astaroth explained the layout of the tower.

“There are four inhabitable floors at the moment. Here, on the first floor, is the library. Above it is the summoning room, where Master conducts experiments. Ideally, it should be at the top, and it probably will be in a few months’ time. On the third floor are the guest rooms, which is where you’re going. Since my arrival, they have never been used, but are kept in pristine condition on the Master’s orders. Finally, on the top floor are Master’s personal quarters. All our supplies are kept in the mountains, along with the slaves’ sleeping quarters”.

We got to the third floor and were led to a dining room. There was a large wooden table in the middle, surrounded by sofas. The walls and floors were decorated with carpets, and there was one large stained glass window. In spite of Astaroth’s claim about the room being kept in ‘pristine condition’, everything was covered with a thin film of sand.

At the head of the table, a plump, bald man was sitting, sweating profusely and tapping his scalp with a handkerchief every few seconds. He looked more like a livestock merchant than a great wizard. He greeted us as we entered the room.

“Ah, the guests! Come in, come in, make yourselves at home. The tea will arrive shortly”. We sat down on the sofas, and an imp familiar, looking like a miniature version of his master, started bringing bowls of steaming liquid.

“We barely get any guests, you see”, started our host, “none whatsoever in a decade since I’ve been here, actually. I’m so, so very glad to see you, it’s been years since I’ve spoken to an actual human”.

“But where do you get your... workforce then?” inquired Civet.

“Oh, the gargoyles bring them mostly. I let Astaroth take care of the day-to-day stuff so I can focus on my studies. Summoning him was the best thing I’ve ever done, if I say so myself. ‘We need five more slaves, Astaroth, ’ I tell him, and he takes care of it. No need to micromanage everyone anymore. But tell me, what brings you to these remote parts?”

Rhombus explained the gist of our quest, and Maximillian was suitably impressed.

“That would indeed be a priceless artefact! These are strange and magical lands. I came here from Taqa – in the Sorcerous League, you know – I guess that would make us enemies under different circumstances, haha, but that’s all behind me – too much politics, never could stand it. So I came here and found a well of magical energy. A crossroads of lay lines! I had to build a tower here, but the thing kept sinking into the sand. That’s why I created this whole operation, you see. Been adding new floors for ten years. Hopefully it will stop sinking soon, so I can fully concentrate on my actual goal”.

“And what would that be?” Annabel’s curiosity got the best of her, and her eyes were gleaming with genuine interest, all traces of worry gone.

“So glad you asked! I unearthed a ritual to summon an Old One, which I intend to perform using the magical resources of this place. The gargoyles should prove helpful too, I’ll need quite a few sacrifices brought in”.

“And after that?” Annabel wondered.

“Why of course, world domination! No other goal is worthy of a sorcerer as talented as myself”.

“Lofty ambition!”, Spiridon interjected, “I hope you’ll remember old acquaintances when you reach Manea”.

“I don’t think there’s a need for us to separate. Actually, in addition to pleasant conversation, I summoned you here with an offer. Would you like to stay here and work for me?”

“We have other duties to attend to, unfortunately”, replied Rhombus, “besides, we’ve just met. You don’t know if we’re trustworthy. For all you know, we could be trouble”.

“Of course I don’t trust you, it’s obvious you would be placed under a geas preventing you from harming me. I have nobody I can turn to, and you’re obviously competent if you’ve made it here. Why not at least think about it? For now, you’ll have to bear with helping Astaroth organize construction, but soon enough, you’ll be leading armies in my name. I will even let you take down that Arthacyros fellow, you probably bear a grudge against him. And of course”, he began ogling Annabel, “there’s the ever-important position of apprentice-mistress to consider, which so far remains tragically vacant”.

“I’m sure you can do better than us”, said Nixon, “in all respects. We are only versed in small-unit tactics, no point in having us head armies. And I’m sure you can find an apprentice more suited to your tastes than our Annabel. Let us finish our tea, continue our conversation, and we can both return to our jobs”.

“That’s too bad”, our host briefly looked as if he was on the verge of tears, but then his expression hardened. “I would have preferred it if you accepted my offer with the gratitude it deserves, but as a future Supreme Emperor of Earth, it is time to start practicing not taking no for an answer. Astaroth!”

The demon moved with lightning speed, going after Annabel first, grabbing her by the throat and choking her until she lost consciousness. A few of the mercenaries attacked him, but he fended off their attack effortlessly with one hand. Rhombus, Gandor, and I went after the sorcerer, who blocked our attacks with quick, precise magical barriers that could withstand our attacks. He was not all talk – a lesser wizard wouldn’t last a second against three attackers in melee.

Once both his hands were free, Astaroth went on the offensive. The three mercenaries he fought were subdued in no time. We turned our attention from the sorcerer. Rhombus was the closest and attempted to electrocute the demon, but failed and was knocked out by a chop to the neck. I attacked, drawing both my sword and the warhammer I took to carrying around, and swung with the latter. He blocked with his arm, barely flinching. With all the ferocity I could gather, I continued the assault. That bought me five seconds tops, when Astaroth grabbed me and tossed me through the glass window. I began falling, but before I hit the ground and cracked every bone in my body, my fall seemed to slow down slightly. I fell on the sand, the impact painful but failing to cause serious injury, and for a moment, I thought I could see faint black mist dissipating around me.

Returning to my feet, I glanced at the sky. There were no gargoyles present. I made a dash towards the rocks, waiting for the winged creatures to appear somewhere and carry me back to the sorcerer’s domain. They never showed up, however, and I found a crevice in the rocks, where I waited for darkness, trying to think of what to do next.