One by one, under one false pretense after another, he
summoned Oorlander’s brood into their master’s room,
and to their own destruction. The boy added their life
forces to his own, increasing his strength further, in
preparation for what he knew awaited him outside.
Contemplating his situation, his gaze once again fell upon
the old book, opened on the floor. Before him, a picture
of a young man stared back from the page. His hair was
black and hung in straight, shoulder length braids, a fine
band of gold encircled at the temples. He carried a lance
and held the stance of a hunter. There was an aura of
yellow light emanating from the figure. Petbe, the book said
beneath the picture, a god of vengeance and retribution,
administering the wrath of Isis and her divine justice to those who
would dominate the weak, corrupt the innocent. As the boy
paused over the picture, he came to understand his new
purpose.
DeHaviliard had brought four “soldiers” with him. He had
expected that the boy would follow his instructions and
that they would easily be able to overwhelm him. But
when the boy suddenly materialized before them, a power
they had not given him during the sharing, he understood
that the circumstances had changed drastically. He could
sense that there was no power left in the old fortress, the
child had seized it all.
DeHaviliard stood, amazed, despite himself, at the speed
with which the child-monster he had created destroyed the
four seasoned warriors he had brought with him. They
were crushed like twigs before a gale force. The child
moved with a precision and an elegance to his violence.
There were no wasted movements as one life force after
the next were ripped from those who had planned to share
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