The Lord of Necrond

PROLOGUE

"A bargain, you say?" Tartarsus stared thoughtfully out of the high turret window overlooking the forests of Rye Errish. "There are no bargains for the dead. You are here in the Otherworld and will be tortured until you move on freely to the forgetfulness of Annwyn, whence all are reborn."

"You will bargain with me! They must suffer as I have suffered! Until they are in utter misery, I shall withstand any pain that you inflict. I will never let go of my last life until I have laughed at their pain and despair." The prisoner strained at the bonds that tied him to the chair.

"Then your torture will continue." Tartarsus turned, the sunshine slanting in from the window flashing brightly in his yellow eyes.

Bending, he retrieved a bridle of steel bands, screws and buckles from where he had discarded it after ripping it from the wolfman's hairy muzzle so that he might talk. Attached to the metal circlet of the head-brace were two plates of steel designed to be strapped over a man's eyes. Through the centre of each plate wound a thick screw and these screws were coated with brown blood and gelatinous tissue that had clumped and dried into dark lumps.

Tartarsus continued, "Saille, has healed your eyes but I can have them put out again - and again. That is the ingenious thing about torture here in Rye Errish. You can suffer to the third degree, time and time again." He laughed at the cleverness of it.

The creature that once had been man but now was almost half wolf nodded, his movements limp from pain, his head lolling against the thick armchair. "Stop my torture and I shall bring you rubies. I shall fill this tower of yours with sunburst rubies, Tartarsus, such as these."

The wolfman awkwardly reached into his breast pocket and, with short, unnaturally curving fingers now tufty with fur, dragged out a radiant red ruby and, holding it up, revealed its glowing heart of brilliant yellow.

The newly appointed chief verderer snapped his head away from the window to fix on the ruby, the glow in his eyes pulsating with the thrill of beholding the gem. Barely breathing, he swept across the floor of the hunting tower, which had once belonged to Talorcan before his fall from grace, to stand over the wolfman.

Tartarsus snatched the ruby, his glinting eyes bulging with delight as he drooled at the brilliant gem. "A snatch of the sun in its heart, a rare magic to enhance my own." He threw back his head and a piercing note rang from his mouth until the pitcher of wine on the low table beside the wolfman shattered into a thousand pieces. He laughed delightedly and, with one strong sinewy hand, grasped and lifted the wolfman from the chair. "Give them to me! Do as you say and fill my tower with rubies."

The wolfman swallowed hard, trying not to show any emotion; already his battle was won. "If you want rubies, you must give me this upper tower room of yours, with freedom to come and go as I wish. Rubies cannot be accomplished overnight; there are many wheels to set in motion," he said as silkily as he could, though he could not disguise the growl in his lupine throat.

The verderer nodded, "It can be arranged - though secretly of course. The High Circle would never allow it and they must never find out until my power is great enough. Those fools have ruled Rye Errish from before the first troublesome man crawled out of his caves - and they have ruled it badly. Just because the ealdormen have their fine wings, they think they are so superior to the verderers. Ha! Talorcan was right. They are not fit to rule. I shall have the power. He loved beautiful women but who wants women when I can have rubies?" He licked the gem in his hand. "You may have my rooms."

"And the head-brace? No more torture?"

Tartarsus dropped the wolfman and nodded. "So long as you bring me rubies. You have a way to achieve this?" he asked, sliding his tongue avariciously over his lips.

The wolfman laughed and held out a ring on his finger. The verderer stared closely at it and saw that there were three hairs woven about the ring. He frowned at it. "That is but a ring. I see no magic in it."

The wolfman gave him a twisted grin. "Indeed, the ring is nothing but the hairs are much. They are taken from one who still roams the world of the living, one who holds a great artefact of power that directs the channels of magic bridging the worlds. Through these thin tendrils, I invade his dreams and so tease him into my service. An unreliable method, I agree, but I have planned for that. The last time I broke across the divide between worlds, I did not pursue him or his precious power. For I have found another: an artefact that the priestesses discarded when they fled from the King's Inquisitors. Every man, whose breath of life is caught within it, will give me the strength to cross the chasm."

Tartarsus shrugged. "Fill this tower with rubies," he warned. "or I shall feed you to the Commoners, and all your worthless pursuits and vendettas, along with your puny soul, will be lost to oblivion."

The wolfman bowed. "I shall not fail." Jerkily, he threw back his head and, holding the ring aloft, wailed out a lonesome howl of the wolf, its echoes rippling through the channels of magic to disturb the peace of the world. "Tartarsus wait! There is one last thing."

"More? You demand more?" the chief verderer said with haughty disdain.

"Indeed more. You want the rubies, don't you? The High Circle punished Talorcan cruelly and they will do the same to you if you cannot match their power." The wolfman turned his head on one side and gave him a sly and hideous grin. "My soul is starved of pleasure. Let me view the torture halls of Abalone. Already there is one there whose suffering I must witness and relish."

Tartarsus nodded warily. "If you wish to enter the chambers you must submit to torture lest the High Circle suspect I have struck a bargain with you. Is it worth it to witness one soul's agony, if you are then to suffer equally yourself?"

"Oh, yes, it is! A thousand times! I must see their pain!" the wolfman said wildly.

"Then come! It is of no consequence to me!"

Tartarsus handed him over to one of his minions with detailed instructions as to how he should be tortured in the chambers deep beneath the castle if Abalone.

The wolfman was led across the grease-smeared floor of the smoke filled cavern, weaving his way between the writhing bodies until he reached the wretched soul he was seeking. Here he was permitted to halt while, gleefully, he inhaled the aroma of burning flesh and spilt blood.

"Morrigwen, old woman," he called softly, gloating over her pain.

The woman's eyes slowly opened and stared up at him with faint recognition.

"Know that I pleasure in your pain and that I strive to bring your loved ones to join you," he snarled, before the verderer dragged him to an iron chair.

Nearby, sizzling pokers were buried in the glowing embers of the fire in readiness to be stabbed in his eyes. But, as instructed, the verderer waited, allowing the wolfman time to witness the old Crone's torture.

A green-jacketed verderer, sweating in the heat from the fires, stood astride her wasted body and looked on her without emotion. "Old woman, your time is done. Move on! Let go! Bliss awaits you. New life awaits you."

A halo of red rimmed her vision. She looked up numbly at the hazy figure standing over her and fought to find that essential part of herself that was separate from her body. She had to separate herself from the pain, the unbearable pain. Yet she must bear it! She had to return. They were too young, too innocent, too foolish to cope without her.

Screams were beyond her now. She did not know how long she had screamed. Was it days? Was it weeks? Was it months? All was a raw nexus of pain.