a thin waist and wide shoulders. The prisoner was handsome but his visage was hard, like stone.
“He is perfect, as you said,” stated Janrick. “How long have you had him?”
“I have been working on him for over fifteen years. It took a while to break him but our lord will appreciate the irony of who he is. He will be very pleased,” replied Cuthare. The other high priests smiled wickedly. All three turned towards Gullanin eagerly. “What’s next, wizard?” asked Cuthare.
“The procedure is quite simple really, but the spell is very complex and must be recited perfectly,” Gullanin said, lifting up the book before him. “Canzar,” he whispered. Instantly the book opened and flipped through several pages, stopping on one in particular. “Actually it is not even a prepared spell; it is something that I had to create using the correct phrases found in the book. It took me several days just to find the words, let alone figure out their meaning and the correct order in which….”
“Will it work?” interrupted Janrick. “I care not how you came up with the spell. Will it work?”
“Yes…theoretically it should work.”
“And if it doesn’t?” asked Kane.
“Then we are in the same place where we started. But, magic is not always exact, there could be some danger to us if the spell does not work,” replied Gullanin, enjoying their discomfort.
“Explain yourself,” ordered Cuthare.
“The energy of the spell will be released. If it does not bring our lord back, then it might bring something else back,” Gullanin explained. “After all, the words used are words for conjuring, mixed with other words of power. If you are afraid, then wait outside while I perform the spell.”
The three priests looked at each other, but they all seemed to be in agreement since no one went for the door.
“We need to be here when he arrives. Start the spell, wizard, and make sure there are no mistakes,” snarled Janrick as the three priests stepped back so that Gullanin could face the doomed man strapped to the statue.
Gullanin laughed silently. Janrick’s words were an empty threat. They were powerful priests but they would be hard pressed to defeat the magic of Gullanin the wizard. Gullanin had an arsenal of offensive and defensive spells that the priests would struggle to counter. But it wouldn’t come to a fight, at least not yet. They still needed him.
Gullanin stepped forward and cleared his mind of all thoughts except for the spell that he prepared. The spell was tricky, and there was some danger in using it. He did not lie about that. Gullanin was a powerful wizard, perhaps the most powerful wizard in Kraawn, but much of the book was beyond his powers. Gullanin wished he had had more time to tap the power of the book, but he knew that the Dark One would know if he did, and he did not want to anger him. The book was his gift to his lord.
Gullanin, glancing down at the book, looked at the words one more time, and then he started the spell.
“Athwa Dubel Spudentay”
“Athwa Nostronus Siek”
“Tuatha Lan Andros Kiel”
Gullanin began to say the words louder, and with more force. It was not just the correct pronunciation that made the spell difficult, but he had to use the correct verbal intonation and syntax. The way he said the words, the tone, the pace, the volume, all of which had an effect on the outcome of the spell.
“Dumanostros Mandan’Roh Luthor!”
Raising both his hands towards the altar, he recited the final words. The three priests, who were unsure of what was going to happen, slowly backed away from the focused wizard.
“Vel’Roh Ock Canthree Gyndoe!”
And he finished with his lord’s real name in elvish. The first words of magic originated with the elves millions of years ago and it was this language that tapped the true power of the Ru’Ach.
“Ell’eros Tyorthos!”
Instantly the flaming braziers in the room were extinguished followed by absolute silence.
All four of the men waited nervously until Janrick finally spoke. “What is happening?” he whispered, his tone strained from fear.
“I do not know. Now be silent and wait,” Gullanin hissed back.
Then, within the ancient stones of the castle, a deep rumbling grew to a crescendo, sounding like a powerful earthquake. All four of the men put their hands to their ears to shut out the piercing noise. As the sound reached its pinnacle, there came a loud clap followed by a bright purple light at the ceiling, above the altar. The light