Chapter 15

“Mistrew is either dead, or practically powerless. Why will you and the rest of the council not accept me as one of the ruling Seven? I do not ask for Mistrew’s place, for I am much to new, but my power and ability is undeniable.” Terimak’s voice resonated with smooth, oily assurance of his power as the remaining six members of the Council of Seven faced his image in the council chambers. “Have I not proven my right to take his place by taking his power, and his lands, for my own?”

“The citadel still stands against you Apprentice Terimak. And if rumors are true it is even held against you by the former servants of Mistrew and the demons he summoned. Until you clean up this mess, and bind or destroy those demons we will not consider you for membership. The council of Seven can quite easily become the council of Six.” The speaker, Cal’rathon, was a gaunt figure, reminiscent more of a scarecrow than a man, if such things were clothed in the finest silks. He stood now first amongst the remaining council members and his obvious dislike of the younger Sorcerer colored his arrogant tones. “The Council has spoken.” With a disdainful gesture the image of the young Sorcerer vanished. “Arrogant child. He tries ones patience with his ridiculous babble.”

“Be that as it may, he is right. Mistrew is dead. We have confirmed it ourselves and the report is from one of Mistrew’s own apprentices who had no reason to lie to us. After all, he was encouraged to tell the truth.” The high pitched voice of Itharn was at odds with his massive girth. The overweight Sorcerer wasn’t terribly tall but his chair was specially designed for him. His laugh, more of a giggle, as he spoke of encouraging was particularly odd coming from such a large man.

Cal’rathon looked out at the other 5 Sorcerer’s gauging them.

Itharn was easily the largest of the three and quite frankly the most disgusting. His black hair was limp and oily, and his clothing, while made of the finest materials, showed recent stains of food and drink. And worse likely, since it was rumored that Itharn was more than happy to take a personal hand in torturing individuals and sacrifices before killing them.

Melurial was the only woman on the council, her beautiful features kept so by constant application of her power. Tall and willowy with long flowing blond hair, her graceful form did little to hide how deadly she was. Her brown eyes were hard and in the presence of the rest she lounged contentedly but with an aura of barely concealed power. His pale blue dress accentuated her figure and she sat, her latest lover kneeling on the floor by her.

Talten was a middling height man, non-descript in many ways and probably the smartest of all of the Sorcerers. He had passed for a normal human numerous times before and dressed relatively sedately, avoiding the silks his companions and their apprentices wore. He was currently dressed in comfortable but simple clothing. But Talten was a master of gathering information and his spies seemed to be everywhere. It was one of the reasons he was the only one of the Seven who had never needed to defend his position, since any apprentice who began to plot against him was disposed of quietly before it ever came to an open conflict.

Belkin, on the other hand, was a massive man. He seemed more of a warrior than a Sorcerer, standing over six feet tall, and massively built. Yet for all of his brutish appearance, Belkin was fond of the subtle approach. He had often used his appearance to undermine his opponents opinion of him and prevent them from taking him seriously. But he was content to use brute force when such a method was sufficient, and unlike the rest of the council, had taken the time to study military affairs. In fact his position as head of their master’s personal guard had been crucial to their betrayal of him.

The last member of the council, Gentern, was a quiet individual. None of his companions knew much about him for he had been a friend, if any of them could be said to have such, of Mistrews. He, like Mistrew, had taken few apprentices, apparently more interested in studies and exploration of magic, than in power. What was most remarkable though was that he, of all the council, was one of the Fae, one of those who had joined the Sorcerer’s and were perhaps the most hated of them. Changed by the darker magics they had used, he was also the most feared of the council for none could truly understand his plans and thoughts. His eyes, changed to a pure white by the magics, combined with his white hair gave him a washed out look, adding to otherworldliness of his appearance.

Cal’rathon himself had been the second to join the original conspiracy to overthrow their master and use his death to fuel their flight to this pristine world and seal the pathway behind them. With Mistrew’s death he could finally take up the reigns of power that had long been held by the first amongst them though he had no illusions that he would have to defend himself from challengers should he falter at any time.
“Mistrew’s death does leave us with an opening and once Terimak has cleared up the demons that Mistrew released in dying we can give him a position on the council. But we will not include him in the bindings of the Demon Lord, Karzander. Terimak is overly ambitious so we will want to watch him closely. Hopefully he will be satisfied with Mistrew’s position and consolidating his position. Though most of Mistrew’s former apprentices have already promised their support of Terimak.” Cal’rathon looked amongst the council members, “Now that we have handled that minor bit of business what else is there?”
Itharn’s immediately began speaking, glee easily apparent,“My agents amongst the plains tribes south of Taibriz have convinced them to attack Taibriz in 2 weeks time. I figured we could all send some of our demon forces down there and move the council meetings down. The tribes are ripe for culling and we could all use this to let our more restless minions play.”

“That sounds like a plan since it has been at least 2 generations since last we culled the tribes. I would like to see what specimens I can gather amongst those would survive the forces we will unleash.” Melurial’s smile was reminiscent of a tigress preparing to eat her next meal, as she petted her toy’s head.

The rest joined in the discussion as plans were made to move the council’s meetings to Taibriz and to personally involve themselves in chastising the nomadic tribes. After all, they all agreed that some semblance of ‘freedom’ was necessary to keep their slaves happy, and the tribes gave them a perfect group to occasionally toy with and use as hunting herds to keep their demonic pets happy. It was necessary to bleed the tribes heavily from time to time though to prevent them from becoming a real threat.