The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

TWICE FOOLED

He had failed and looking upon the grinning shadow in the cell, Arcturus gritted his teeth. He had promised himself and failed to act upon it. The white smile taunted him and he gulped. He was not afraid. One twitch of his fingers was all it would take to finish the vile thing in front of him. Yet, he resisted the urge. He had to know how much this man knew. He twisted his fingers and the cell door banged open.

The prisoner didn't flinch and Arcturus walked in, hands behind his back. His boots crunched on the stone floor. He tilted his head a bit to look at the bloodied body in front of him. It kept smiling at him.

"Tell me," Arcturus said. "Do you enjoy it? Being thrown around? Does the burn of my spells appeal to you?"

"It's delicious."

Arcturus had to stop himself from lunging at the man's throat. Never had anybody tested his patience like that. Faske came close. He kneeled down, taking in each and every scarred tissue, the manacles holding his arms above his head and the collar on the neck. The black eyes were wild, the hair matted with sweat and blood and his lip had a gash running down one side. The thing was being held like the animal it was. It repulsed him.

"I'm done with your games," Arcturus said with a level voice, the one that sent shivers to run down the strongest of their armed force and yet, the man just smiled and Arcturus' hand shot forward, scratching at the nose, the beard and the lips, the glow at the tip of his fingers blazing hot.

They left a mark when they came away. The prisoner's skin was red and raw. It still didn't wipe off the smug smirk. The man disconcerted him.

"Is that how it's going to be?" he said through gritted teeth. "If that's what you want..."

He stood up, the tail of his dark coat swinging behind him, the silver thread embroidery glinting when the firelight caught on it. He turned his back on the captive and let a tendril of Draedech flick loose through the strings of time and whipped at the black consciousness at the end of his vision. This was not a man but a demon, something dark and sinister. The tendril broke as it crashed and his nose flared in anger.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Orion Bones."

"Where do you come from?"

"Kapok."

"Where is your family?"

"I don't have one."

Arcturus turned around and the shadow of a man in front of him had the audacity to raise a taunting brow. Arcturus was not going to get his answers like that. He closed his eyes and pulled at an imaginary string his ring finger and he was plunged into a world of terror. It was like knives piercing his brain and he tried not to recoil.

This game ended tonight.

He delved deeper, reaching as far as he could into the mind with each pull of the string towards him. For the longest time, it was just a cloud of black in front of his eyes. This mind was hollow. It was empty and cold like the icy northern waters of Falargimea. He felt a sting on his own consciousness and built up the gates he had learned to erect with perfection. This mind knew his intentions and it was trying to make his plan backfire on him, trying to access his thoughts and memories to absorb them into its own.

He was not an amateur. He knew what people whispered about him. He knew how they called his tactics weak. Everyone except himself. It was always better to let others underestimate him. They called him a Bastard of the Demon anyway. Let him live up to that name.

The darkness deepened before turning a blinding white and for a mere second, he lost hold of the string he had been focusing on. He caught it just before it slipped away completely. He had seen stupid minds, intelligent minds, cunning brains, angered thoughts but never had he seen something so hollow and empty. This mind had shoved the thoughts deep and hidden it behind nothingness. No wonder Master Halt had declared this animal useless when he had inspected the thoughts. But he knew this was one skill he was better at than Master Halt and any other man in their court.