philosophica majestus – chapter six

i met du’caramas once before, centuries ago, though there’s no way he’d recognise me now.

he was tall for his kind, and had long fingers. slender. and the fingernails were a little too clean.

he spoke softly, but with power, and i was greatly impressed by him.

he stood over a sacrfice, his knife aimed at the heavens.

“i make this sacrifice to you, great lord,” he announced before droning on.

i was used to sacrificial rituals, and seldom enjoyed them.

i know i was attending only as a favour to a friend who insisted i see the new priest.

“you’ll love him,” she said. “he really gets me, you know. right here.” and she snatched at her crotch, leering at me through her cowl.

“that’s nice.”

and i considered leaving, but i didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

du’caramas brought the dagger down, plunging it deep into the sacrifice’s right breast. she convulsed. blood gushed from wound and mouth.

he called for his metadaemon to appear.

the sacrifice’s soul was visible, made visible by the ritual. it was drawn upward out of the body; an ethereal grey web of light unwrapping itself from the bones of the girl. humanoid and screaming without sound. it was dragged upward, fine threads of itself snapping free.

du’caramas pointed a bloody hand at the soul and demanded it remain.

it writhed, trying to escape, to continue its upward journey.

he hooked his finger around its middle and it collapsed inward, becomeing a tired ball of dull light.

“come forth,” he called to his metadaemon.

and, with a charging of the air and a sullen burst of static, his metadaemon arrived.

it was some three metres tall, with dark red skin and legs bent at an odd angle. its feet lacked toes, and its fingers were splayed so far apart it made me feel uncomfortable.

strong limbs moved with precise power, reaching out and clutching at the offered soul, which those deceptively disjointed fingers gripped, tightened, and crushed into oblivion.

the offer is made. the offer is accepted. what do you want this time, du’caramas?

the face, hidden by a blue mask shaped like an inverted teardrop, with twin eyepieces inside which burned a fire so black it sucked light. two massive horns, sharp and like cracked bone, jutted upward in defiance of heaven.

du’caramas announced his demands, and the metadaemon laughed, before fulfilling them.

they were the usual coven-inspired nonsense.

hardly worth the price of admission.

the metadaemon used those inhuman fingers to peel back the skin of its stomach, exposing a seething mass of grey souls, squirming like stunted worms.

behold, your final resting place! it cried, and several of the coven fainted.

the rest fell to their knees and bowed to the metadaemon.

du’caramas looked satisfied at their reaction until his eyes found me, standing alone amid a terrified sea of black-shrouded worshippers.

he cocked his head slightly to one side. wondering if i was challenging his authority.

i shrugged as if to say no, but i’m not kneeling.

he shrugged back. sure. but just keep your mouth shut.

i smiled, hidden beneath my cowl.

after the ritual, as everyone filed out, he touched my arm. “you are a mage.”

“i’m something like that,” i agreed, quietly so no other would hear. of all those who had attended, only du’caramas qualified as a mage. the others, while they would not betray my true nature, would still think about blackmail.

“why were you here?”

“i was doing a favour.”

“an honourable mage?” his voice twisted in irony, and he tried to peer into my cowl to see my face. i retreated further beneath the dark cloth. “i was not aware such a miracle had occured. well, whatever your purpose here, mage, don’t return. this place is mine, and i won’t have an interfering element. i’m sure you understand.”

i nodded.

while not afraid, i did respect him.

the fact he’d summoned a metadaemon showed he was no low level initiate of evocation. it was altogether possible he could even summon a greater daemon. it would have explained his confidance with the metadaemon, and the metadaemon’s simple acceptance of all demands without looking for a clause in the contract.

many years later, i saw him one more time.

i was working as a filing clerk in england, not long before it was destroyed. i looked up one afternoon and saw him in the office with my superior, who was on his knees before du’caramas.

this time, the mage was dressed entirely in black. his black tie and black shirt acted like those dark eyes of the metadaemon, sucking light.

“you owe us, ansel,” du’caramas said.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry! i really do have the money. if you’ll just wait, i’ll have it brought here to you…”

“it is too late, ansel,” du’caramas said, grinning. “your time is at an end. it looks like someone else will get that promotion.”
and he raised his hands and drew symbols of necromancy in the air.

they glowed red, and hardly wavered in the air.

most mages can’t keep the symbols motionless. they dance around, so slightly that they look like they’re wobbling. most theories conclude that because the universe is moving at such a rapid rate, and that the chaos which powers all magic is so intense, it is difficult to influence such rushing forces to such a measure as to keep the symbols motionless. it is, it is said, like trying to float a leaf on a rushing river without tying it in place.

nevertheless, the more powerful the mage, the more motionless the symbol.

i watched in admiration as his hovered so still that the world around him seemed to quiet in respect.

he uttered words of power, and my boss flew back against the wall and was pinned there.

then, slowly, and with great attention to detail, du’caramas used spells to flay him alive.

the blood covered everything in ansel’s office.

du’caramas didn’t even look at me when he left. he just walked out, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

i moved to australia that night.

to hear, then, that he was interested in my business, was a little unsettling. not that he had any idea who or what i was, obviously, but i knew i had to be careful.

rumours had persisted over the past few centuries that du’caramas had been responsible for the deaths of several mages for the sole purpose of looting their artifacts. if this was true, and he discovered some of the items i possessed, he wouldn’t stop for a second in trying to kill me.

i had no wish to end up like ansel.

i kind of had this thing, in that i liked my guts on the inside.

arriving home, i stepped across the threshold and turned to the small gargoyle standing on a pedestal beside the front door. only ten centimetres high, it looked totally inanimate. its gnarled horns and twisted grimace made many visitors look twice.

i tapped its head and said, dulak.

the gargoyle looked up at me, its eyes opening.

blue light shone within, slightly amused.

“what’s up, levi? you look fucked.”

“have we had any visitors, seldon?”

“nah. pounced on a mouse, though. little fucker tried getting in through your drainpipe. you really ought to close that up, you know.”

“then what would i feed you?”

“burglars, levi. i haven’t had a tasty burglar in decades. your defensive spells are too good. can’t you just switch them off now and then?”

“i’ll think about it. but for now, keep your eyes open. there’s a mage. his name’s du’caramas. i think he’ll try sometime to get in here.”

“he a good mage?”

“probably one of the best.”

“anything like deziato?”

“there’s none like deziato.”

the gargoyle looked satisfied. “i’ll keep watch, levi. can you do something about that woodnymph? she’s beginning to distract me. she danced through the house today. singing and smiling. she smiles too much, levi. how’s a gargoyle supposed to think?”

“i have no idea, old friend. no idea at all.”

Tags: chaos magic, discordian, philosophica majestus