Copyright © 2007 Ronald Scala
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
At first, the bright fire mesmerized me. Then I saw him. He crouched a little to the right of the fire with his back and left side to me. I could just make out the contour of his face, an Indian face, high cheekbones, prominent nose, long flowing hair. Dark markings, not unlike tattoos, moved and flowed on his face. Save for these shapes, he was still, as if frozen in this scene. Then I saw Margot. She sat against the far right-hand wall, her hands shackled separately and raised above her head. Each chain looped over a hook in the brick wall. Beside her on the floor lay a long knife. She was naked except for panties and bra. Her head hung down, and I thought she looked hurt. My rage rose, and then he turned in slow motion. As he did, I was forced, commanded by his will, to look at him. Though his lips never moved, a roar filled my head, and I staggered back.
His face held the evil of the ages. I now saw this great horror when Ouintan-Mantua turned, now in the facade of an aged, painted Indian. Dark, shimmering skin, glowing yellow eyes rimmed in red, cracked lips. And power. Power over me and Margot. I can't describe it, but I've never been so afraid in my entire life.
"Drop the staff," his voice whispered in my mind.
I dropped it, leaving only the camp axe in my right hand, the candle in my left.
"Kill her."
I looked at the axe in my hand and dreamed of planting it in Margot's skull.
Across the tracks, Margo's chains clanked to the stones. She picked up the knife, stood, and advanced, all the time crouched as if ready to spring at me. Her gaze burned through me, her teeth clenched in a snarl.
"Come on," I hissed as I looked at her. "You want a taste of this? Come on then!" I, too, crouched and started to circle around to her left.
The Indian demon stood at the point of a triangle, the other two corners bescribed by Margot and me. The fire burned in the center. The Indian stood with his hands raised above his shoulders, the left hand outstretched toward me, the right toward Margot. His hands opened and closed as he bent his elbows and lifted his hands up, then snapped them out straight as if he were a crude symphony conductor.
Margot's form rippled with light. The knife she held gave off long tendrils of red and yellow. As she advanced, the white of her bra smeared along the path it traveled. The mushrooms and psychedelic beans had taken full effect. I looked at Ouintan Mantua; he'd changed too. Instead of a powerful sorcerer, I now saw him in his true form. Ugly and fearful, yes, but also an old and frail creature, cowering behind the power of his illusions. The secret of the drugs; they weakened his illusions. He looked at me, and I believe he realized that his secret had been uncovered. His power over me diluted, so he turned his attention to Margot now, concentrating on her.
I gripped the candle in my left hand like a bat, holding the flame too close to my hand. Hot wax poured on to my thumb, wrist, and jacket cuff. The wax didn't divert my attention, but when the cuff caught fire I reacted by slapping the camp axe onto my arm, cutting it deeply. The pain of the burning jacket against my skin and the axe biting into my arm broke the hold that the creature had on me. I blinked and no longer wanted to kill Margot. I'd overcome his spell. I dropped the candle and peeled off the jacket, throwing it on the tunnel floor where it continued to smolder. As I held the axe against my left wrist, Margot raced at me.