Freedom or the Fire Volume Two

2008

Joshua T. Calkins-Treworgy

Copyright 2008 by Joshua T. Calkins-Treworgy, all rights reserved. No portion of this novel may be duplicated, transmitted, or stored in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people is coincidental

Published by BooksForABuck.com

April 2008

ISBN: 978-1-60215-072-0

Chapter One

It Shall Be Done

Once again, Richard Vandross thought, Vilec Roak is going to barge in and apologize for his inadequacies. Vandross knew that his beast had died, but he had been prepared for that eventuality when Roak told him that he intended to use the creature in his plot. Losing him for nothing was unsatisfactory.

Mere injury was enough to please the one-eyed devil--he had told Vilec Roak as much before the Shadowbeast Prime and General of his armies had departed to watch the scenario play itself out.

But now, as Vilec Roak slinked into the room, the Shadowbeast wore a toothy grin that split his face from ear to ear.

Success? Vandross wondered. That would be a pleasant change of pace. "Tell me all about it, Vilec. I had low hopes for this little exercise of yours. How well did it go?"

"To begin, my lord, let me first say that I apologize for the use of Brink. It has indeed been lost. However, with the aid of one of our Illusionists, I was able to convince Byron's fools that they struck a heavy blow to a massive detachment of Shadowbeasts. Most of them, however, were mere phantasms. Our practitioner was able to adapt the imagery to react to their attacks. In all, we lost twelve Shadowbeasts."

"And our enemies," Vandross asked, raising his good eyebrow.

"They are one fewer, my lord. The Monk, David Spore, is slain."

Vandross grinned inwardly, pleased beyond words. Monks could be troublesome, he had learned over the years. Potent, competent fighters, and equipped with magic sutras. This David Spore had been a pain while aided by Byron and his friends. Though he didn't seem as vital a component to their success as the others, his death would be a heavy blow to the company's morale. After the loss of their friend, and the betrayal of a seemingly injured man, Byron and his companions would be unsure of everyone and anyone who approached them or asked for aid. They would be effectively rendered incapable of helping anyone for a while.

"Does this news please you, my lord?" Vilec Roak asked, taking a knee.

Vandross bellowed harsh laughter, throwing his head back and guffawing like a madman.

"It is sooth, yes, I am pleased beyond your knowledge. Our losses you kept minimal, through trickery and guile. And as a result of your little plot, one of their number lies eternally lost to them. Vilec Roak, to think that I was losing faith in your abilities to lead this army. Let it be known throughout our numbers that you are worthy and capable." Vandross rose out of his throne, moving to stand just before the Shadowbeast General.

"Stand, Vilec Roak. Tonight, we shall celebrate this first step toward their utter destruction. And on the 'morrow, we shall plan for their next defeat. Come," he said, walking confidently out of the throne chamber, toward the entrance of Mount Toane. "Let us go to one of our new 'protectorates'." Vandross referred to one of the villages he had sent his armies to occupy near his home lair.

Human and Shadowbeast walked along together, out into the light of early afternoon. Major Tamriel, the huge and dark humored Renka, stood outside of the mountain with his Sergeants Moran and Doran, the other two bear demons that Vandross had summoned to his purposes.

"Tamriel, Vilec Roak and I shall be going to one of my townships for a celebration. One of Byron's company has been slain this day, and we must do this accomplishment proper ceremony. In our absence, I leave Mount Toane under your care and supervision."

"What of Colonel Molis," the hulking, furred demon asked, signaling for his men to stand at attention.

"Ah, right," Vandross said, thinking on his First Colonel, his first creation while still in the thrall of Tanarak of Sidius. Molis was a half-demon man who he had sent with a detachment of men to harass the city of Ja-Wen further. He would crush that city-state as surely as any other territory, and claim it for himself; but Molis's task was one he deemed necessary. He wanted to reduce the number of defenders there before he went in for the kill.

Though Grigory Molis had given him little in the way of interaction beyond silent scorn and low-level disgust, he had done as his master commanded. "No, Major. He is engaged in the slow damaging of Ja-Wen, and I shall not recall him. You are more than capable of this task in his stead. In the off chance that outsiders attack Mount Toane, you have my permission to carry on the defense as you see fit.

"Now, General," he said, smiling widely as he slapped Vilec Roak on the back. "Let us make haste! I intend to drink my fill and plan further woe for the Dread Knight. Ha." There was more contempt than genuine mirth in Richard Vandross's laugh, but he did find hilarity in misfortune of his enemies. Finally, he had struck a blow to Byron and his companions that would leave a permanent mark.

Having gathered the servants under his command, he had amassed a number of useful tools for his conquest over the land and the undead warrior. But now he wanted more. He wanted to slay one of them with his bare hands, or at least be the main hand controlling the figures that would topple more of Byron's damaged company.

Vandross tore a rift in the air before him, the shimmering, blue tinted image of an occupied township visible on the other side of the tear. He stepped through with Vilec Roak in tow, and materialized in the center of the town.

The town's cowed inhabitants gasped in amazement at his sudden appearance, and he could smell and taste their fear: sweet like honey in his nostrils and on his tongue, the aroma of sweat coursing through the air to join the other sensations. He felt exalted in the presence of such terror, feeding on the waves of emotion that emanated from these hopeless folk. He closed his eye, letting the warmth of it flow through him, a babbling brook in the center of his soul's landscape. The Orbs inside of him responded, Power, Vengeance, Spite and Deceit writhing in ecstasy. Smiling with his eye still closed, he lowered his chin to his chest, letting out a low grunt.

"Foolish, blasted incompetents," he screamed in the twin harmony of his possessed voice. "Know you not your new ruler when you lay eyes upon him? I demand respect, knaves. Bow to me, for I am Richard Vandross. I am your endgame, your omega. Kneel, and you shall suffer little more than humiliation and groveling."

On cue, all those assembled who were not under his army's ranks dropped to their hands and knees, touching their foreheads to the dirt. "Ha ha ha ha haaa! Excellent. Now, who shall offer my General and I their wife or daughter for this evening? We are reasonable curs, but we require the company of females as much as the next fellow. Who among you shall receive my grace with an offering?"

He looked around at the assembled men and women, their eyes filled with horror, panic, and desperation. One of the young Human women present had caught his attention: a woman barely older than a girl, her figure full and voluptuous. But she wore the simple dress of a modest commoner, and her hair glistened with natural oils and grease.

She would need a bath, he thought, but she was perfect. The slight, gentle slope of her cheeks suggested that she took care of herself, and if properly attired and cleaned, perhaps with a touch of makeup, she would be gorgeous. The girl had a long, swan-like neck, and her skin was pale as moonlight where it could be seen. She was unblemished, undamaged, perhaps untouched by carnal knowledge. He would defile her, Vandross decided.

"You there," he shouted, pointing an armored finger directly at her like an accusation. "I will know your name."

The girl remained half slouched. But she looked him in the eye, her lower lip trembling with unconfined fear or anger, he could not tell which.

"I am Kelly Jonas," she said, her voice warbling like a dying bird.

Fear, Vandross decided with satisfaction.

"Why would you ask, villain," she continued, spitting at him.

Hmm, he thought, rubbing his beard with his left hand, his right on his hip in a thoughtful pose.

"You've got spirit, I see." He grinned at Vilec Roak, who had adopted an amused countenance. "What do you think, General? Is this girl worthy of my attention?"

"Oh yes, she is." The Shadowbeast stalked toward Kelly Jonas and wrenching her to her feet by the arm. He tossed her roughly toward Vandross, who caught the girl by the wrist a moment before she punched at him.

"And I can sense that she is untainted, my lord. A prime choice."

"Bastards." An older man behind Roak barreled headlong into the Shadowbeast, heaving him to the ground. The man had the frame of a small bear, all width and disused muscle turned to fat, his shaggy beard hanging an inch from Vilec Roak's face. The man pulled a small smithing hammer from his tool belt, and struck at Vilec Roak's arms over and over in a fury, the General easily blocking the attacks.

With a thrust of his hips and a flick of magical force, Vilec Roak tossed the man aside, hovering over him an instant later.

"And who is this man?" Vandross asked the girl, staring into her eyes from only a few inches away. He felt her body turn cold and rigid, gripped by the power he commanded and the threat that he might take out on her any punishment due to the fallen smithy.

"He is Thomas Jonas, my father, and blacksmith of this village," she whispered. Twin fangs of fear and guilt sank into her, venomous power coursing down through her blood. She had become compliant in a moment's time, and Vandross, while pleased, wasn't entirely certain if this newfound cooperation was yet another side effect of his powers, or simply a young woman's desperation and loss of hope. "If you will spare him, I will lay with you," she whispered into his ear, reaching up on her tiptoes to speak to him alone.

Vandross, his hands still on her shoulders, pushed her out to his arms' reach. Turning toward Thomas Jonas, he gave Vilec Roak a brief sign to back off and keep an eye on his prize. Then Richard Vandross knelt down next to the fallen smith, who had scrambled back from the Shadowbeast.

"Look at me, old fool," he rasped at the smith.

No fear lay in those eyes any more. Instead, there floated only fury, seething and boiling over. The Human would surely do something foolish, but Vandross cared not. "I am going to give your daughter her first taste of true womanhood. I am going to violate her in ways she has surely never even heard of. I am going to spill my seed about her face and hair, for I shall not sire you a grandchild of power such as mine. Yours is blood too lowly and base for such honor."

The smith's face had gone slack, either in defeat, or as a feint. Again, it didn't matter.

"I shall spare your life now, for she has begged it of me. But you shall still receive punishment for your attack on my General, who also is one of your new lords. Do you understand?"

"Just kill me," the smith growled, facing Vandross squarely.

What sort of man was this, that he did not feel despair in the face of the one-eyed warlock and his forces, his powers? Insanity did not hold him, and from what Vandross could tell, aside from his skill with the occasional abrupt assault, no powers availed to help this man.

"Kill me and spare my only daughter your filthy desires, villain. Strip my flesh from my bones, let vultures feast upon me." He ripped his shirt open, exposing it to the air, daring the scavenger birds to descend upon him. "Have me drawn and quartered, but do not dare lay a finger on her innocent head, or surely the great God Oun shall banish you to the Hells." The man had just requested torturous methods of death over the perversion of his daughter's body, and Vandross fumbled with his thoughts for a long moment. How could any man be so determined? What sort of person chose a horrible death over the temporary pain of their child?

A flash of memory played in his mind's eye. His mother and father, running through the streets. They had propelled him into the waiting arms of a neighbor to keep him safe from the bandits. They had tried to save him, but in the process, they had been slain. Vandross felt his control slip. Such tactics only lead to death, and the misery of being orphaned. This act put this smith in the same league as his own lowly, worthless, powerless father. He needed to be punished.

Byron of Sidius had done something similar, a long time ago. He had been ordered to kill his wife and son, under the direct command of Tanarak and himself, Vandross thought. But his soul had somehow gained the strength to refuse him and his master. Now, years later, Vandross faced a much less capable man, willing to sacrifice himself to the imagination of a warlock in order to spare his child.

"My lord," a serpentine voice called to him, sounding as though it came from a hundred miles away.

He recognized it as Vilec Roak's. After he cleared his throat, he stood and faced his General, who appeared worried.

"Are you well, my lord?"

Vandross shook his head to clear his jumbled thoughts. At that moment, Spite spoke in his mind, his voice slithering and slurring like the serpent he took the form of. There is a great punishment for this man, it said to him. Think on it for a moment.

And think on it he did, smiling broadly as he listened to Spite. Such awesome humiliation, Vandross thought, his blood pumping faster as he thought about it. He had his answer, and it was far worse than any threat of death the smith would dare.

"Thomas Jonas, I shall spare your life, as your daughter has requested. But you shall still receive your punishment for your transgression against myself and my General. Hear you now what I have in store for you both." He swept his gaze over the girl. Gods, he thought, she was beautiful. He let his gaze linger, relishing the thought of what was to come. "I shall ravish your daughter as I have told to you. And you shall watch me do so," he said, reaching a state of near sexual climax as the man flattened himself on the ground and screamed his anger and remorse into the dirt.

Such despair, Vandross thought, his mind reeling with the narcotic effects of feeding on raw emotion. I shall have such sustenance for all the days of my life.

Hoisting Kelly Jonas over his shoulder like a rag doll, he motioned to Roak to grab the forlorn smith, who grappled with the Shadowbeast for a moment before going limp in defeat.

Ah, what a marvelous day this shall be, Vandross thought as he waved to his slack-jawed subjects. They shall all know me for generations to come, and they shall fear me in all times.

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