Darkness of the Soul (10 page)

“Come
to
me,
blood
of
my
blood,
son
of
my
sons.
Come,
Karesh,
son
of
Karesh,
and
be
my
Warden.”

The
song
of
the
talu`shar
could
not
be
ignored
by
even
the
greatest
of
men,
were
they
unwilling.
The
former
Karim
perhaps
carried
the
potential
for
greatness,
but
his
will
was
to
join
with
the
speaker,
not
resist
it,
and
so
he
came
at
once,
reaching
out
with
a
trembling
hand
to
touch
the
surface
of
his
summoner.

“I
claim
the
pact,
father
of
my
fathers.
I
hear
and
obey,
serving
as
your
hands,
your
arms,
and
your
Warden,
until
at
last
you
are
free
by
my
command.”

The
power
within
the
talu`shar
,
whatever
god
or
demon
made
it
more
than
just
a
painting,
gave
no
further
command
in
words,
but
the
wave
of
self-satisfied
pleasure
that
washed
over
him
spoke
as
clearly
as
any
language.
The
feelings
it
dredged
up
from
his
desiccated
soul
were
those
of
a
child’s
comforts
and
an
adult’s
sick
pleasures:
milk
from
the
nipple
during
a
rape,
a
father’s
comforting
smile
while
peeling
the
heart
still
beating
from
a
victim’s
chest.
These
and
a
hundred
more
images
ran
through
his
mind,
and
Karesh
could
feel
the
beast
that
was
his
master
devouring
each
one,
tasting
them
and
then
shitting
them
back
out,
taking
vicarious
pleasure
in
each
and
hungering
for
more.

It
would
be
more
than
a
decade
before
his
degradation
was
complete
and
longer
yet
before
he
had
tasted
each
and
every
fruit
on
the
tainted
vine
that
the
talu`shar
seeded
on
that
day,
but
the
images
and
sensations
of
it—millions
of
atrocities
performed
by
hundreds
of
previous
Wardens
before
being
given
to
the
talu`shar
—all
claimed
him
then,
and
he
was
lost
in
their
ecstasies,
vowing
not
to
rest
until
he
had
sampled
all
of
them
and
a
million
more
in
service
to
his
new
father.

The
Karim
who
had
existed
before
his
trespass
in
this
place,
the
Karim
who
had
merely
called
out
to
the
tourists
that
water
was
for
sale,
the
unassuming
young
man
who
said
and
did
little
outside
of
this,
for
fear
of
the
police
or
the
irate
retort
of
some
traveler
or
other,
would
have
recoiled
in
horror
at
the
thoughts
now
burning
in
his
mind.
That
Karim
would
gladly
have
suffered
whatever
punishment
was
decreed
to
reveal
an
individual
guilty
of
such
atrocity
to
those
who
might
do
something
about
it.
But
that
was
a
man
who
had
not
yet
known
the
glimpse
of
power
given
him
in
the
streets
that
day
and
who
had
not
yet
killed
for
the
honor
of
being
chosen.
Such
was
a
cowardly,
childish
part
of
him
that
was
now
properly
dead
and
buried
beneath
his
adult
awareness,
though
Karesh
vowed
not
to
forget
that
version
of
himself,
for
to
do
so
would
be
to
accept
the
possibility
of
one
day
returning
to
such
patterns.

The
person
he
had
become
now
wallowed
in
the
visions,
as
he
would
each
night,
reliving
this
moment,
as
he
did
each
time
his
eyes
slipped
closed
for
even
the
barest
fraction
of
an
instant,
as
he
saw
them
overlaid
on
each
and
every
thing
his
eyes
lit
upon
while
he
was
wakeful.
In
the
dream
state
induced
in
him
by
his
new
father
and
master,
Karesh
saw
the
face
of
the
one
who
would
grant
the
pathway
and
saw
how
it
would
be,
though
it
would
be
years—ages,
to
his
mind—before
such
things
were
made
clear
to
him
and
he
knew
what
he
would
do.
For
the
time
being,
he
surrendered
at
last,
allowing
unconsciousness
to
claim
him
and
the
visions
and
dreams
of
damnation
to
rule
him.

Chapter
8
 

5:00 am, December 10, 1999

Karesh awoke, the dream fresh in his mind as it always was and a smile upon his full lips. Thinking of his innocence—and yes, his stupidity—in those days often amused him, though he remembered his pact well and honored it always.

Each night, he dreamed it again, and each night, he drew from it new information, a new fragment of the thousands of images that the beast beyond the
talu`shar
had etched into his mind. In some cases, they had been warnings, allowing him to see past the rocky road ahead of him and into a time of peace and prosperity for himself. In others, they had merely been suggestions, experiments to try when he was given time with this victim or that one.

Of all the visions, however, one always stood, glimmering like a heat phantom, a presence felt but not identified. Only in recent nights had it become clear, and as he dreamed it again and again, he grew steadily more certain that the time of destiny was at hand, that at last he would cast off the bonds placed upon him by pitiful human flesh and ascend to become the true son of his master. His only regret was that he would not have the time he desired to toy with Drakanis properly, if he wished to succeed. There was time enough to torture him a bit more, perhaps, and certainly the past three years had been painful indeed to the man, but a true education in the understanding of pain would forever be beyond the policeman and his friends, for such knowledge came only after decades, if at all, and decades were no longer left to Karesh or his master.