Chapter 11: Warlock 4

Everything was what I’d hoped for at first. I finally had power, albeit ones that I had to hide. My tribe found use for me working with merchants, and I found some satisfaction in my work. Once every few moons I’d receive instructions in my dreams on how to serve my patron: deliver a letter to this person, place this item just inside the woods, steal this thing from one person and hide it with another person. All fairly simple things, and as trust grew so did my powers. Eventually I was able to create ice and manipulate its shape, either wielding it myself or casting it off as a single projectile. My illusions became more defined, able to take on another form or mask my own passage.

Even with all this new power I found it wanting. It was taking too long, I was gaining too little and it seemed as though I was only trusted to do the most menial tasks. I wanted more, and all my attempts to contact the fey were ignored. They were looking down on me like my tribe did, I knew it. Thankfully, I had a way out, a way to spurn my patron as they had spurned me: a pact burn.

Gathered from the scraps of lore I had managed to gather, a pact burn was anathema to the warlock community. It was essentially taking what you had learned and running away with it, no better than a common thug. It was also considered the height of foolishness, as those you’d angered were primordial beings with immense power, and the former warlock was generally reduced to a wet pile of flesh, bone, and blood shortly thereafter. I had a plan, though. All my efforts had managed to uncover a small scrap of a name of some grand devil, just enough to give me an idea on how to gain its attention. I’d hoped that by burning my one pact and forming another, I could grow in power and avoid retribution all at once.

Gathering the needed items was easier than I’d assumed. My connections with the merchants meant I had easy access to all the goods that came through and the information on how to make those items disappear without anyone caring. Soon I had the Sulphur, the rare herbs and expensive wines, the illicit drugs and crystal powders. The hardest part was acquiring a young goat, as my people tended to care more of their livestock than the traveling merchants did their goods. It was also this last thing that spelled disaster for me.

Unbeknownst to me, my parents had taken an interest in my activities. They’d noticed my juvenile attempts at being sneaky, and were curious at what was going on. When they saw me stealing a goat in the middle of the night they decided to follow me to the woods. A summoning circle, assembled piecemeal through bits of knowledge I’d acquired over the months, was already set up in a dark glade. I set about lighting the candles I’d stashed on every flat surface I could find, double and triple checking my work. Taking a deep breath, I unsheathed my dagger and slashed my hand open.

My blood primed the circle, crimson light splashing the trees wherever my blood fell. It took several more slashes but eventually the entire circle was glowing, shadows roiling in the silent space. A large bowl sat in the center, wine, drugs, and herbs making a heady concoction that I was should would kill any mortal attempting to drink it. Words began to spill from my lips, a mishmash of different languages that would make no sense to anyone hearing it. That didn’t matter, what was said was unimportant, only the intentions behind them was. The goat seemed to sense something was wrong, but I’d come too far and forced it next to the bowl. Its bucked frantically, trying to escape, but I grabbed it by a horn and split its throat open, the blood pouring into the foul mixture id concocted. It’s struggles eventually ceased, and I took the final step of the ritual.

Intention was everything in magic, and breaking a pact was no different. Id written up a formal letter full of flowery prose and gobs of titles on expensive vellum, the kind of thing a fey noble would enjoy, outlining my lack of satisfaction and desire to leave their service. I took a candle, setting it to one corner and lighting it ablaze. Ashes began raining into the bloody bowl, and the cooling sensation id felt for the last few months abruptly disappeared. I was successful, extinguishing the letter in the liquid. A few heartbeat passed, before the circle abruptly flared into life, blinding me temporarily.

Blinking the spots from my eyes, I noticed a small imp holding out what appeared to be human skin. It was a contract, the devil pleased by my offerings and audacity, offering my power in exchange fir service. I immediately signed it, and sighed as my skin became almost too hot before settling off to just a little warmer than normal. Another flash and imp disappeared, along with everything left in the circle. The circle itself became an inert charred mass, the intense magic ruining everything. I sensed a foreign intrusion into my mind, simply leaving the message I would know what my first task was very soon. My eyes were closed, basking in the knowledge of a successful binding, when I heard the cracking of stick and the drawing of steel.

Whirling around, I barely dodged out of the way of my father swinging his sword at my neck. My mother stood in the distance, disgust writ clear on her face.

“Mother! Father! What are you doing here?”

“ Foul warlock, you’re no child of mine!” my father snarled, swinging with everything he had to try and slay me, to erase my stain from his world.

“Father! Stop it! I can explain. I’m strong no-" I started narrowly dodging a thrust that would have pinned me to a tree.

“This isn’t strength, you disgusting creature,” my mother spat. “I should have done what my mother suggested and killed you when you were born. I would have, if I’d know how weak you were going to be.”

Her words hurt me, but deep on some level I always knew this was how she felt how they both felt. Between her words and my fathers actions, I resolved my spirit, hardening it to do what I needed. My illusions were still with me, and I quickly caused the myself to disappear from in front of my father.

“Coward!” he cried out, doubling down on his swings in an attempt to catch me. A small patch of ice formed under one of his feet, dropping him onto his back with a startled yelp. I immediately pounced, fingers gripping his face,, and tapped into my new powers. His screams started immediately and my fingers sizzled through his flesh. It was too easy, like grabbing a block of butter. I kept squeezing, relishing the struggle beneath me, until it abruptly stopped. My mother’s scream rent the sudden silence, startling me into action as I’d forgotten she was there in my struggle.

I grabbed my fathers sword and appeared before her in a flash, sinking the blade into her gut and pinning her to the tree. She screamed and babbled incoherently intensifying as I used my newfound power to heat the blade red hot.

“You were the weak one, mother. Always hiding behind fathers deeds. Die alone and unwanted!” The blade was incandescent and I twisted it, widening the hole in her body before wrenching it through the tree. I turned, knowing the job was done, and reveled in the sights before me. As suddenly as it came on, however, it left. My stomach immediately emptied itself, and tears streamed down my face. I had meant to kill them, it was self defense at this point. But to do so so horribly…. I heard laughter in my head, a voice congratulating me on freeing myself from earthly burdens and completing my first task. A chill went up my spine. I’d finally found the power I was looking for…but at what cost.

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