Jason Cosmo: Hero Wanted

Chapter 22

Clad in nothing but a tattered loincloth that I hoped had been laundered, I was lashed to a copper-plated X frame suspended from the ceiling of a high-vaulted chamber of dark stone. The air was thick with ancient malice and murky with the indistinct grey outlines of the darting ghosts of Fortress Marn. The hopeless spirits flitted around me like pale abstractions, their anguished faces materializing before my eyes. The effect of Eufrosinia's paralyzing spell had faded, but I was just as effectively immobilized by my shackles.

In the center of this great round chamber was a wide pit partially filled with charred black lumps that looked disturbingly like human bodies. Facing me across the pit was a terraced dais supporting the twenty-three thrones of the Ruling Conclave of the Dark Magic Society. On the first and lowest tier were the skeletal ivory and onyx chairs of the Twelve. Above and behind them, in the second rank, were the spine-backed seats of the Seven, carved from malachite and black jade. Next were the places of the Three, weirdly formed seats of a strange green stone veined with purple. They pulsed and glowed with an unnatural luminescence.

Only half the seats were occupied. The members of the Ruling Conclave wore elaborate wizardly garb clearly pulled from the evil side of the closet. Skulls, daggers, horns, and frowny faces were the predominant print motifs. I recognized none of the group save Eufrosinia, who sat among the Seven.

Between the thrones and the pit was a long stone table where lay the relics of the Mighty Champion-Overwhelm, Gardswell, the armor and helm, the Ring of Raxx.

One throne stood above all the rest. It was forged of the hellish metal infernium, inlaid with accursed blood gold, and studded with gems. The high back of the chair was shaped like a demon's open maw, the armrests like the coils of a great serpent, the feet like dragon's claws.

"I am Erimandras the Overmaster," said the figure seated there.

I could not conceal my shock and horror. Erimandras was a boy! Barely into his teens, if that. The chief architect of all the vile schemes of the Society, the evil genius who led their pursuit of world domination, wasn't even old enough to shave!

He wore a fine robe the color of a nightmare and an elaborate horned headdress. His gaunt young face was as white as a freshly bled corpse, with thin black lips like a line traced in blood from the darkest chamber of his evil heart. A slim wand of blue metal tipped with a five pointed crystal star rested across his knees.

"Aren't you a little young?" I said.

Intense waves of purest agony ripped through my body, as if tiny barbed hooks were piercing every cell. The sensation ceased even as the scream reached my throat; but I screamed anyway, scattering the ghosts like a flock of startled pigeons.

"I did not give you leave to speak, Jason Cosmo," said Erimandras.

I grimaced, but held my tongue.

"We have gone to great trouble and expense to capture you, but it will all be worthwhile once you reveal what you know. And that you will surely do. Let us begin-where is the Superwand?"

"How should I know?"

The agony hit me again, this time lasting slightly longer, perhaps a full second. Erimandras waited until the echoes of my screams faded in the vast chamber before continuing his interrogation. He raised the blue wand.

"I seek the Superwand, of which this is but an authorized souvenir replica. You stole it from my Dark Master a thousand years ago when you were the so-called Mighty Champion. You stole it and you hid it. I ask again-where is the Superwand?"

"I wasn't even born a thousand years ago! None of us were! Well, maybe that old guy there in the third row."

Another burst of agony racked my body, longer and more intense, though I wouldn't have believed that possible only moments ago. I screamed as if I had lost my soul. The ghosts swirled madly about the chamber like dry leaves in a storm.