Magic Spawn Origins

Magic Spawn: Chapter 47

by Meredith Skye

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An untapped collection of memories swam in front of him, the Magic Spawn. Dark towers full of scrolls, candlelit instructions at the hand of a high wizard, mountains, valleys, deserts, armies. Spells, spells, spells. He wove in and out of the trove of images, feelings, names, and facts.

The Seven Worlds of Cathal, the beautiful Blackstone Fortress from which they began to conquer the worlds of Cathal before the Arlunni drove them out. The Blood Circle of Hlereth. The magnificent Temple of Miak in the Underworld. Years of darkness and memory.

And the symbol of Keth: of unmaking and making again. A beautiful idea. He almost laughed that he had once thought the symbol on his hand meant "destruction." No, it meant taking something only marginally useful and unmaking it--only to remake it as something powerful, something wondrous ... such as when He-the-Spawned-One was made. He had this memory too.

That a mere human man was taken from this dismal world of Earth, and unmade by Molan--the heart literally taken from his body to combine it with a dragon's tooth, a piece of obsidian, a lock of hair, the blood of a living being, and other components--to be remade as a thing of great usefulness: the-Spawned-One.

So much to learn. So many emotions to sample. Such a great future ahead. Molan had so many obstacles to overcome. He would build a vast army. And he would deliver his revenge. The-Spawned-One had only to feast on the knowledge now available to him, thanks to Molan. And carry out his will.

Still, many distractions slowed the process--impediments to Molan's rise to greatness. And they had to be dealt with. Human distractions. But like the human man, these could also lend themselves to the power of Keth--of unmaking and making. A beautiful thing. And the universe would be strengthened by that much more, and those remade would be enriched by it, as the-Spawned-One was.

Even these Unfortunate abandoned human bodies could be changed from lifelessness back to a form of life. From wasted back to useful. These small transformations pleased the-Spawned-One. This small act of restoration.

Beware, came the instruction.

The Human Unfortunates had set an attack on Molan's fortress on Earth. Somehow they had found the Mill. They went even now to stop the Unfortunates. The-Spawned-One looked forward to improving upon their current nature--giving them a chance to be more useful and more powerful beings, that could aid Molan in the greatest journey that lied ahead.

Also there was the opportunity for revenge.

They had captured the Arlunni-woman-Ehina and imprisoned her at the Mill. All Arlunni were their enemies. And Molan had plans for revenge, using this woman—for that reason, Molan had preserved her. Now, the humans attacked. They must be kept away from her. The-Spawned-One would see to this, while Molan fought those humans foolish enough to raid the Mill.

The-Spawned-One now brought his attention back to the drudgery of walking and maneuvering past unwise humans with swords. This was not difficult. Most of them did not seem interested in the-Spawned-One. Once he left from Molan's side, the Unfortunates paid little attention to him. In this way, the-Spawned-One made his way to the entrance of the Mill, past the confusion of fighting. He only felt disappointed that he might miss seeing a spell cast by Molan. Still, his task was important.

As he was ordered, the-Spawned-One would protect the Mill and the prisoners there. The distance was easily covered. A stair led down to the lower level, where he knew the Unfortunates-to-be-Unmade were being kept.

But as soon as he entered the door, he knew that something was amiss. There were smells and sounds that were not right. Human sweat. Crushed bones. Fear. Escape. The door to the silo was open. As was the door to the holding area, and the skeleton Faithfuls that they'd placed there were missing.