Chapter 7 Part 4

Morteous Blackheart looked up from his desk. The young woman sitting opposite him was fairly comely. Her robes clung suggestively to her body hinting at a desirable figure beneath. She was probably well aware of his interest and had made herself up for just that reason.

She was a mage of the middle ranks. A journeyman, she had come in from Allentown two days ago to seek funding for research and development. Normally those seeking grants were dealt with by the House staff, but whenever magic was involved, Morteous took a personal interest.

This mage, her name was Deenah of Borgan, a small village south of Allentown, was researching a method of enchanting combustible materials such as wood or coal so that they will burn slowly and leave no ash. She claimed that controlled flame had a wide variety of uses.

Morteous tended to agree that there were commercial possibilities, but he personally gave the project a low priority. "My dear," he told her. "I think you may have stumbled across a very useful idea. I can see many crafts that would be willing to pay well to get such control over their fire and fuel." He rose from the table. "Perhaps if you would accompany me to my lab, you can tell me more about it while I check to see what funds I have available."

Deenah of Borgan was not a stupid woman. She was in her late twenties and still very beautiful by human standards. She was certain the halfelf found her so as well. She knew fully well why he had asked her to accompany him to his lab. He wanted sex. She had known from the start that she may well have to trade the temporary use of her body to him to get what she wanted in return. She also had the foresight to know that she wanted no part of the Blackheart line to mingle with her blood. She had used her magic to take care of that before coming to the Citadel.

Morteous smiled at the woman. Her attempt to use sex as an incentive was flattering, but truly ineffective. Unlike Miguel, he was very resistant to a woman's charms.

Morteous led the woman into the hallway and down to a stair well. Several guards snapped to attention as he passed, and he nodded to each in turn. They descended the stairs for many minutes until they reached a landing with a dark corridor going to one side. Morteous hissed a magical syllable and torches along the walls flared and burned.
Cobwebs told of the infrequent use of the corridor. Morteous apologized for his lack of cleanliness. He told Deenah that he was usually in a hurry when he came down here and would simply teleport.

Eventually they reached a large oaken door. Morteous spoke a word and the door ground open. The room within was fairly large. A small but strong stream of water flowed into the room and onto a water wheel. The water then flowed out through an open well on the far side of the room. The wheel was connected to a series of gears and mechanisms that defied any attempt to fathom their purpose.

"My laboratory," Morteous proudly announced.

Deenah was very impressed. With such resources at her command, she could realize her dream in a matter of a couple of years. She decided to play her trump card. With a sweep of her hand, she unfastened the clasp of her robe at her neck and untied the sash. She let the robe drop to the cold stone floor. She was not totally nude, she wore a loin cloth and halter. But, enough flesh was showing for her message to get across.

Morteous had his back to her when she had disrobed. He was talking as he drew a scroll from a shelf. "This is my latest project," he told her. "It is a daring and revolutionary experiment in necromancy." Morteous turned. He took in the sight of the woman before him.

Deenah could see in his eyes that he wanted her. She leaned back against a table and thrust her hips and chest outward. Morteous took a hesitant step forward. Deenah smiled inwardly. He needed a little encouragement, she decided.

She approached him and slipped her left hand inside his own robe. She massaged the hairless chest and tickled his flat belly. She took her his hand in her other hand, and placed it on her own chest. "Please take me, my lord," she whispered. "Take me now, warlock."

The warlock's hand moved upward slightly as he caressed upwards to the nape of her neck. When his hand encountered the knot that held her halter up, he quickly almost frantically untied the covering and let it fall.

Deenah worked both her hands to removing the sash that held his robe closed. When it was undone, she opened Morteous' robe, gripped his torso and drew herself close so that her body lay against his chest. She reached around her back and unfastened her loincloth and let it fall to the floor.

Totally nude, Deenah planted her mouth to the neck of the warlock and raised her left leg up and wrapped it around his leg. "Take me now," she moaned as she gave herself over to him.

Morteous smiled. He lifted the woman in his arms and carried her submissive body to the work table. She sighed as he caressed her body from head to toe. Yearning, she pleaded with her eyes for him to join her.

Morteous laughed as he opened the scroll and began reading.

Deenah screamed in rage. She tried to rise, but found she could not. Then she tried to erect a magical shield as the warlock bent his will to his task. Her shield came up and Deenah began another spell that would free her.

Suddenly the room was very dark though the torches had not diminished. Deenah stared in horror, her spell forgotten in mid cast as she beheld the transformation taking place before her.

Morteous Blackheart no longer stood before her. The thing before her most closely resembled a nightmare from a demented demon's dream. The humanoid figure still bore the face of Morteous Blackheart, but the arms were gone. In their place was a multitude of midnight black tentacles. They writhed fervently.

To Deenah's dismay, one of the tentacles snaked out and hovered above her naked body momentarily. Slowly it lowered until just inches above her forehead, the tip ever so lightly reached down and kissed her brow.

Pain and agony erupted as the contact was made. She felt a vitality of her inner being get sucked away at that touch. Then the touch was gone. She opened her eyes again and saw the tentacle, pulsing a deep blue hue, retreat to the body.

At the same time a second tentacle reached out. This one hovered over her face only for a moment, then proceeded to twist and descend over her heaving breasts. She tried to think of a spell she could cast, but she could recall no knowledge at all. She felt a chill that froze her heart as the tentacle touched her flesh. Again there was the draining feeling, and all attempts to fight fled from her mind. She was tired and whatever the warlock wanted to do to her, she just wished he would get on with it.

The tentacle that had touched her heart, pulsed a deep crimson color, and retreated beck to the body. Then a third tentacle drifted out. Deenah saw the warlock's hideously disfigured face grin, and the tentacle hovering above her began to change shape. It grew rounded and stiff with a bulbous tip until it took on a phallic shape. She already knew where the next contact would be, and even though she tried to steel herself from the shock, when the penetration came, she screamed the last scream her body would ever make.

Deenah's consciousness floated in a void. It was unfamiliar and frightening. Then she saw the thing coming after her. The mass of tentacles and unshaped body reached out and entwined her. She heard the screaming voices of the others trapped within it's flesh. She knew that very soon her voice would be added to theirs. She knew even at the moment that the toothless maw opened to swallow her the name of the unholy thing that had killed her. It was a name as old as time. It was a name that no mortal creature could even conceive of, and no god dared whisper. It was a name that haunted the dreams of the Godking himself. The name was unpronounceable, but its meaning was clear. The name meant, abomination.

Morteous laughed as he pulled the last tentacle in. The knowledge and magic of the woman was his. It was no real boost of what he already had, but she had asked for it in thinking she could seduce him into doing her will.

As the spell's power faded, Morteous collected the woman's possessions, her notes, her books and everything else, and placed them in a box. This he put on a shelf with the date and owner's name. One day he would go through all these boxes and sift through their contents for useful information.

The shelf was almost full. Soon he would need more space. He leaned against the work bench. Some victims had been easier than others, he remembered, but none had been as much fun as Deenah. After draining her knowledge and her energy he had taken pleasure in the draining of her youth and life. He had thought it an artistic gesture of great style.

Morteous picked up an empty box from a desk in the corner and inspected it. "Soon," he said as he read the name. "First Ultrecht, then Armegon. I don't think I will get to the healer, my brother will probably beat me to him, but very soon I will tend to you as well."

Morteous set the box back on the desk. He patted the box and gently ran his finger across the name on its label. The name was "Tyson."