THE LAST GATEKEEPER

Third Ingredient.

            The courtyard grew cooler as the night fell deeper and deeper into darkness. The Illusionist had been flipping pages in a thick book with paper that purified the air with dust. He had had witches drawing the symbols and rituals on the courtyard which all seemed to revolve around a single point, the center, where all the stone bricks came together. Timmy was in shock, he glared at that point while biting on his lip, which had begun to bleed a long time ago and had reached the point where he was nearly eating bits of flesh. He would die tonight and he knew it… And it drove him insane…

            “Sorcerer! I’ve brought Xaviar and Elevoir as you requested!” Fizrack barked as he came into the courtyard. The Illusionist did not look up from the thick text he was reading.

            “Wonderful.” He murmured and Fizrack felt let down. Xaviar had blood streaming down his chin and bruises that spread like rashes across his skin. Elevoir only looked tired and rustled. A witch approached them, she had short black hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed for days and a dress that had been modified and adjusted several times. To Elevoir’s eyes it looked like rags and poor folk wear but to Fizrack who’d been accustomed to witches over the past few weeks, it was royal clothing. He seemed to lower his gaze and back a few steps as she came into full presence.

            “Are you Elevoir?” She asked Elevoir and he looked up at her.

            “It’s The Founder to you! Why are you holding me captive, release me!” The man yelled but she quickly shot one arm out and clenched his throat between two fingers.

            “It’s Elevoir if I say it is.” She said and released him. “What happened to the Demon Hunter, where is he?”

            “We went as planned and ambushed him in Elevoir’s throne room,” Elevoir rolled his eyes when Xaviar didn’t call him The Founder. “… He just out did us…”

            “He… just outdid you.” The Witch repeated with a mocking tone in her voice. She smacked the Orc and his look turned to pure fury. He raised a clenched fist above his head and prepared to punch her, when suddenly it wasn’t there. His entire forearm was just gone. At the point where his right arm left off, his elbow bone hanging out partially, he grabbed with his left hand and screamed. The Orc had become nothing but frightened and angry because his arm was gone.

            “You!” He shouted as he fell to his knees but before he could carry on his rant of black magic, Xaviar’s mouth was gone. He scrambled for his mouth now and as soon as he felt the smooth skin in the space where his lips should’ve been, he fainted.

            From everyone else’s point of view, from reality’s point of view it was all quite amusing. He hadn’t lost his arm spontaneously, nor his mouth, but everyone had seen him fall to his knees screaming for no reason and eventually render unconscious. The Witch standing over him rolled her eyes.

            “Take Elevoir to The Illusionist and then come back.” She said and spat on Xaviar’s limp body. Fizrack nodded and escorted the reluctant Elevoir to The Illusionist.

            The Illusionist, with his infinite wisdom and such, gave Elevoir a dark look when he was seated in front of him. He had never been one for royalty, he’d never been one for anyone for that matter, and generally he just hated the race of men, even though he was one.

            “Listen, I don’t know what this is all about and why this incredible fighter is such a big deal for you but this is my city and I’m officially resigning from any agreements with you. I’m done and that’s that, no more, not in my city.” He paused for a reply and got none, so he continued. “I knew there was something going on here, something not right, hell, my son even knew.” Again a pause and no response and again a panicked continue. “Listen; if its money and prizes it’ll take consider it done, we’ll triple what you gave us, we just want you out!” He glanced up at The Illusionist, growing impatient of his unreadable facial expression. “Well? Say something!” Elevoir said and felt sweat begin to seep out of his pores.

            The Illusionist set down the thick spell book on a table behind him, which in the days were used to market.

            “Have you ever read, Zew Chromongor?” The Illusionist said and turned, doing something on the table that Elevoir simply couldn’t see.

            “T-the what?” He stuttered, more interested in what was happening on the table.

            “Of course you haven’t, it’s a demon spell book and you’re, well, not a demon and it’s hardly been carried into this world, most of the time it’s been here has probably been in my hands.” The Illusionist said and the thick knocking sound of a chopping knife came afterward. If Elevoir hadn’t been where he was he probably would’ve thought someone was chopping vegetables or something on a cutting board. But he had no idea what was going on up on that table. He considered the idea of The Illusionist chopping vegetables for a stew hardly unlikely. “Anyways in this book, you know the one I told you about, they’ve got a spell where you can remove all wards from a spell word but it takes a few things, would you like to know what those are?” The Illusionist stopped chopping and turned his head, Elevoir could once again see The Illusionist’s grim face.

            “S-s-sure.” Elevoir said despite all his intentions leading to anything but that. The chopping resumed immediately and The Illusionist looked back.

            “The first thing you need is eight pounds of blood, which I’m currently draining if you’d look to your right.” Elevoir didn’t want to look and froze. The chopping stopped and Elevoir felt the fear of a coward and looked right. The chopping came back as The Founder stared with shaky breathes at The Ghouls and several Orcs strung up and hung upside down with slit throats, pouring into steel buckets. How had he not seen that?

            “The second ingredient is a sacrifice, a demon to say the spell word at the end of the ritual. Don’t worry, we won’t sacrifice you.” Elevoir did anything but not worry. “The third ingredient…” The chopping ceased and The Illusionist turned holding a thick butchers knife in one hand which was veiled in blood. “The third ingredient is tricky.” Elevoir’s heart was already racing but now he felt as if he might die of fright. “You require a man, born to royalty who’s gone against his fellow man.” The Illusionist grinned at Elevoir and Elevoir did not return the gesture. “There are many different ways you can achieve this… But Elevoir… We just don’t have time for those easier, more pleasing methods.” The Illusionist said and put a hand on his shoulder. “Cannibalism is the only way.” He said as a matter of fact and turned, lifted a plate off the table and handed it to Elevoir. “I personally love the kidneys but Dibala has always preferred veins that really just look like red pasta by the time you get to it and they taste remarkably the same too. But unfortunately you’re going to have to settle with the brain.” Elevoir who was shrieking even before he looked down, gave one glance at the dish filled with blood dressed and blue skinned bits of brain, chopped into a meal. The Illusionist rolled his eyes and had almost left the shrieking royalty before he added one last thing. “We didn’t have any forks.”