Story #200 - The Cost

The Cost

Without his magic, Krell was fairly certain he was doomed.

As he dodged yet another metal-tipped spike coming for his head, Krell felt his left side seize up. He paid a price for his magic, one that he’d found was always collected at exactly the wrong time.

Krell had never planned on being in the belly of the beast, but circumstances had left him with no other option. A contract out of one of the southern principalities paid well, and the Order had been willing to approve his use of sixth-level casting in order to deal with what the locals had described as “a fearsome beast”. That term could mean anything in these days of unrest, as demons of nightmare stalked the land again. Some men called it the end of the fourth age, and others called it punishment for sins uncounted. Krell was of the mind that it was just the way the world worked, but he was in a small minority.

The “fearsome beast” turned out to be a Grolth, one of the most vicious of the ancient beasts of lore. Legend had it that Grolths were born at the core of the world, where heat and pressure forged them into seething masses of angry rock. That description certainly seemed accurate enough to Krell when he finally found the thing in a foothill cave near the edge of the principality, and he’d felt a shiver of fear as he descended the rocky ramp into its lair.

At first, everything had gone as planned. He was far more powerful than almost anyone else of his age in the Order, and he’d always show a facility for magic that most men lacked. Of course, that same facility made him more susceptible to the costs that came with extended use, but he didn’t care. The feeling – the power – was worth it.

Another spike came down, this time angling for his shoulder. Krell shuffled forward, his left foot in full spasm, and felt the dragging limb catch on a rock he hadn’t seen. Throwing out his right hand stopped him from taking the stone floor full in the face, but the impact jarred his wrist and sent him rolling away in pain.

Above him, the Grolth barked out a laugh.

Krell had initially been able to surprise the beast, as it had been busy feeding when he arrived. Luckily, he hadn’t seen exactly what the thing was stuffing into the widest of its three mouths, but the smell was enough to make him gag. A quickly formed fourth-level fire spell filled the cave with scorching heat, but the Grolth didn’t even react. It had taken fifth-level magic just to grab the thing’s attention, and it had opened all of its mouths in wide grins in response.

Then, it had started hurling things. A quick leap took it to a platform out of Krell’s reach, and just as he began to think about casting at the sixth-level, something in the nether decided the cost had to be paid.

Crawling forward on the hard ground, Krell cursed himself. He should have known better than to use fire against a beast that thrived on the heat, but that was his strongest form of magic. Ice and water were his weakest, and truth be told, he didn’t like either one. Both were powers better wielded by women, as far he was concerned, though that had earned him a reputation as a chauvinist.

In reality, it was simply pragmatic; women were better with ice and water, while men had a greater ability with fire. Earth, air and shadow magic was split evenly between the two sexes, though he’d never been comfortable around those women who wielded the dark magic. They always seemed to be looking at his soul, rather than his face.

Krell tried pulling up a wall of air, but the cost was still being taken from his flesh. So long as the gods of magic were exacting their price, using anything but the most basic spells caused intolerable pain. Legends spoke of Order members who could fight through the agony, but Krell found that hard to believe. Even enduring the pain was excruciating, let alone struggling against it.

As he understood it, the first of the Order had nothing but their own intelligence to rely on. They had quicker wits than those around them, but had no access to anything resembling the magic now used in the Kingdoms. It was Alastair, the first mage, who found the gods of magic and brokered the Agreement. Each member of the Order was given a choice; take the Oath and be bound by the Agreement, or leave the Order forever. Most chose the Oath, though some felt the price was too high.

The gods had no care for gold or treasures, but craved the energy generated by human suffering. They were not good gods, nor were they kind, but possessed a power that let the Order transform the world for the better. The nature of the Agreement allowed the gods to demand the cost be paid at any time, and as an initiate learned greater levels of magic, the pain intensified. Krell had found himself awoken in the middle of the night more than once, screaming in agony and thrashing on his bed. His first week after attaining the sixth-level was horrific, and he had considered resigning his place in the Order and fleeing into the countryside.

“Little mage,” the Grolth spoke from above him, and Krell became aware that the rocks around him had stopped falling, “why do you seek to destroy me?”

Krell could feel the pain in his side ebbing; for the moment, the gods were satisfied.

“You have been terrorizing the villages in this area, beast. I have been hired to remove you.”

The Grolth laughed deeply, and then leapt down from its platform to stand near Krell’s head.

“Do not get up, little mage. Tell me, how much do you truly know about your false gods? How deeply have you been twisted?”

Confusion washed over Krell; no one had told him the beast would know of the gods.


- D