The Case of the Heinous Slaughter

I have explained to you before that I am living at the residence of a self-styled farmer by the name of KB Forrest. He owns well over 100 acres of land infested with every manner of varmint. He admits this, yet refuses to find a more habitable location. This morning he went to feed animals, which he keeps for some sort of sadistic pleasure. He has furry rabbits, pigeons with tails like peacocks, and some with feathers sprouting in topknots from their heads. There are strange quail, ducks, chickens, peacocks, pheasants, and all manner of rare creatures that seem to have been bred by a madman.
In any case, when he returned to the house, I was foraging for a morning meal with my fledgling Tigran, who was tearing up a bag he found. I do not know what it contained. I noticed that the man, Forrest, looked dejected and unhappy. Being a good guest, I asked why? He said that although he had fortified the large cages thoroughly, something had magically entered one of them and had killed all of his beloved pigeons. The apparition, as he called it, had done other unspeakable damage. He asked for my help.
I followed him with Tigran loping alongside me. I saw a profusion of colorful feathers strewn about. It made Tigran hungry, but I cautioned him to refrain. A flayed skull of a bird was the first flesh I saw. Next, what was once a graceful white bird lay with its belly torn open and the ribs cleaned of flesh. A mound of bird legs and heads were in a corner, but mostly they had been simply killed and thrown to the side.
The most grotesque sight was the rabbits. They had been white with dark ears and a profusion of fur around the necks. He called them “lion heads.” Three of them had been attacked, but not killed. Two had missing eyes. All had been mauled about the face and were bloodied. I even saw one struggling to breathe.
“Why do you not put them to death so as to stop their suffering?” I asked. But I should have known that squeamish man would refuse, saying that he would try to save them. “Would you like me to kill them, then?” I offered, knowing that he was simply delicate.
“How could the creature have gotten in? There are no holes in the wire,” he asked, avoiding my question. “I have sealed off any means of entry!” he cried.
“I will investigate,” I said, thinking that if any evil were perpetrated in my area, I would not allow it unless it was my own. Sorcerers are quite territorial. I will investigate and tell you my findings.

Back From Xwaresmia--The Sorcerer Gaumata

I have spent time in Xwaresmia trying to sort out my priorities. I really think I have to put together a book of spells and curses. The other thing that has vexed me is that my associate, Tigran, who is a demon, is proving difficult to train. I did not realize that he was as young as he was when I took him on as an acolyte. He is powerful, but in need of a strong hand. 
I have included these proofs: see the picture labeled “werewolf,” above.  In it you see him transforming. Note his moon-like eyes. Yet he forgets to finish the transformation and it appears ridiculous. The next photo shows him sprouting an eye from the side of his face. He had four eyes, some of which roved aimlessly. It was quite gruesome, but he was asleep. When he awoke, his face returned to normal. 
I think he has potential, however, so I will not give up. I feel that I may become attached to him, and this is not at all desirable. I must focus on the task of finding a suitable post to occupy. There is no longer an emperor of any stature in this unfortunate world, and I do not wish to occupy the throne of a weakling. The world has changed for the worse. I may retire to the forest, but I still covet power.

Psamtik's Mother--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The work done for the day, Matwa went to Psamtik, the pharaoh-to-be’s quarters. The wretch’s mother had called him. Psamtik was asleep in his mother’s arms. He slept naked and his mother looked fondly at his skinny, angular body. His shiny shaved head showed off many bumps and irregularities. He had had an erection in his sleep and she stroked it down gently. Matwa stood a while and finally cleared his throat, causing Psamtik to stir and grit his teeth, making an awful grinding sound. The woman looked up and smiled proudly as she slipped out of the bed.

“Matwa, how are the arrangements for his ascension progressing? I feel that the priesthood is not very enthusiastic about my son’s coronation, and I want to know that the army will be loyal.” She paced silently. “At least we have you, Matwa. I’m sure you can control the other priests.”
Matwa nodded, “Yes Your Grace, I will do my best. Every thing is going as planned.”

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

{WARNING} Contains scenes of extreme violence that may be offensive to some readers. Fire—dreams of Fire—visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn’t know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn’t know the extent of Aryazate’s secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate’s worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire—by the same fire that haunts his dreams?

So Little Time, So Many Enemies to Kill!! The Sorcerer Gaumata

I was happy now with both Rustem and Cyrus the Great dead. I had punished them for deforming my lovely body. But I was not completely satisfied. It was enough to make me rub my hands together in a kind of ecstasy. It had all gone so well. Very well, except for the fact that his original goal had not been accomplished. But they were all dead now. The King of Kings, Cyrus the Great, lay in a tomb rotting. The sorcerers Rustem and his twice-cursed sorceress wife Anahita were nothing but old shits of the buzzards that had consumed their flesh.

There was much to do yet. The next on my list was whoever would succeed Cyrus and become the next King of Kings. That would be relatively easy, but a few things stood in my way. Two of them were the children of Rustem and Anahita. I spat in disgust. I had to deal with them. And it wasn’t easy. Possessing someone was something I reveled in, but it wasn’t like I could possess two people at once. With so much work to do, I’d have to do some head hopping. It might make me easier to catch, though.

Well, for now, I would find a very good place to stash my body while I visited—and I would have to find a more trustworthy servant than the one I had just killed. That wretch! He had done a bad job of caring for my body. It smelled, and the limbs had become stiff. Although he left my fingernails grow absurdly long, he had allowed a mouse to chew on my toenails, which were chewed bloody. That hurt like hell even now. Do you still feel sorry for him? Do you still think I was too harsh? Perhaps you would do the same, so do not be so judgmental. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-eternal-fox-sorcerer/

Cyrus the Great Meets the Queen of the Massagetae--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The barbarians were so close that it surprised Cyrus, who was now only thirty feet from his tent and already swinging his finely crafted sword at the heads of the wild-looking people. In his mind, he pictured the relief he would have carved into the mountain. He would have them portray him as a god-like hero borne aloft a Simurg bird with the sun symbol beneath him. Rows and rows of the vanquished barbarians would be pictured with their hands tied, being led to pay their homage to him. He would have to make sure that their costumes were depicted accurately. The Scythians and their pointed hats, the Massagetae with their calf-length robes, and those strange cloaks on the Scythian warriors! What were they made from? There were those among them with fierce masks on their faces. They were painted in eerie earth tones, but the impact was fantastic. As he mused, he continued to fight confidently, seeing that he was flanked by his able royal bodyguards. Not that he was afraid to fight like any other soldier, but his importance was naturally a consideration. His arm was beginning to ache.

Soon he was face-to-face with Queen Apuyani. You may be surprised to hear that a king, what to speak of a queen, would be fighting in a battle. Yes, in those days, kings were required to fight alongside the troops. If a queen wished to hold onto power, she too had to fight.

Many people suddenly stopped and the din of the melee seemed to dim around that spot. Cyrus was sure this woman was the queen, because of her regal bearing. He felt guilt now. She had appealed to him and assured him that her country was obedient to the throne, yet he had had killed her entire army, including her son. His face softened with a look of regret as Queen Apuyani approached, teeth bared in a mask of rage.

I knew it was time to take over before he stepped away from the fight.  The king’s eyes fogged over and he appeared to become furious. Swinging his sword as if imbued with demonic power, he dashed at the queen. His heavy sword hit her club with such intensity that she almost dropped it. The queen’s charger backed up and then flung himself forward. This sudden movement caught Cyrus off guard. The queen pulled a half-sword from its scabbard as they closed in.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

The Wannabe Sorcerer Gets His Due--The Sorcerer Gaumata

I thought of what to do next. For example, I considered that he might want to try the fire trick and I would make fire come out of his ass. But he was out of luck. I had been curious, but now I was bored. I was also annoyed to find that Martyn was one of those bullies—the kind I despised. If you remember well, I was a victim of such a bully, but in my time, these mean-spirited boys could literally get away with murder if their target was a poor child. I was the child of a whore. Nobody in my wretched village would ever have intervened on my behalf, so I was forced to endure terrible beatings.

These memories came back in a frightening crash as Martyn glared at Tete de Lun and threatened him. Martyn shook him as if he were a bag of bones then he said, “Make him atone for his sins against me, for I am the great Sorcerer Gaumata!”

My rage was like a dark storm cloud. How dare he use my name! Yes, I would make him atone for his sins against me. Martyn grinned like an empty skull, but only for a moment. He reached and pulled his own hair again and again until there was a bald spot like the sort a much older man would have. Then he began to tear at his clothing, feeling as if fire ants were crawling over him, their leader periodically sending out the order to bite. When they bit in unison, the formic acid felt like a torch upon his skin and he slapped himself again and again as more of his flesh was exposed to the gaping audience. When he was well naked, he began to caper about hysterically screaming and waving his arms over his head. He punched at his cheeks and jumping from the stage, he began to gnaw on the shiny bar until his teeth began to fall out. 

I could no longer bear the pain, having to share it with him as I was in his body. I left him and hovered over his body, unseen before rushing back to my own. I felt light now, as I always do when I have done something evil. Somehow, although I am not drawn to morality at all, I thought I had taught Martyn some valuable lessons. One was that you should never try to dabble in evil when you have no idea of what you may encounter. The second was that being a bully is bad. The third and most important was to never cross the Sorcerer Gaumata. 

He Makes Water--The Sorcerer Gaumata

His train of thought was broken by a slight guffaw. It came from a slight young man, who wore thick glasses and appeared to be alone. Martin glared at him and said, “You dare to laugh? You shouldn’t even be here. You are a mere human among us immortals.”

I saw what he hid in his mind. The young man who laughed had been the object of Martyn’s ridicule for as long as they had been in school together. Martyn hated him because he was awkward and perhaps plain looking. Before his fascination with the occult, Martyn had been what he called a “jock.” He ran with a crowd of likeminded rascals who preyed upon boys like the one he called “Tete de Lun,” because of his severe acne. Those boys ridiculed Tete de Lun because of his interest in esoteric lore. Somehow Martyn became likewise obsessed, but he never showed this side of himself to his jock friends, and he still made fun of Tete de Lun.

Now he was furious that the object of his ridicule was laughing at him and his secret hobby. Now in college, Martyn still maintained the facade of being a jock, even joining a fraternity, while Tete de Lun, also attending the large college was still an outcaste. If you know me, my dear readers, you know that as a child, I was subjected to torture by bullies like Martyn. This turn of events enlivened me.

Now Martyn called out in a loud voice, “Come, oh Tete de Lun. Come and join me in a duel. Since you have dared to laugh, we will see who is the better sorcerer.”

The boy stammered something then turned to leave. Martyn pointed, “Make him come up here. He has laughed. Now see my power!”

Some of the men, who were dressed as monsters of some sort or another, pushed Tete de Lun forward. He ascended the stage with knocking knees, for he was still quite afraid of Martyn.

“Now kind audience,” Martyn intoned, “we shall begin with the simplest of sorcery. Here, you,” he pointed to a woman wearing vampire teeth. Please give me your empty glass.” She passed up a clear glass beer mug stained around the lips with her tawdry red lipstick. He handed the glass to Tete de Lun, who took it with trembling hands. His face had gone pale.

“Now make water! Make water from nothing!” he ordered.
Tete do Lun giggled nervously. “I could in the lab. I am a chemistry major…” Everyone in the room began to laugh, and a few tossed beer and nuts at him. 

“As expected,” Martyn said, taking the glass into his own hands. “Now see the wonder of my power!” Some people laughed, but all watched. “Make water!” he called out.

I was ready. I forced the contents of his bladder out and a puddle began to form around his feet. Martyn looked down at the mess, unable to believe what had happened. This drew the crowd’s attention, and they roared with laughter.

At this, the proprietor, furious at this indignity, ran to the stage. “Get down from there, you ass!”
Martyn almost shrieked. “No, wait! I will show you! Give me a chance!”

The man stepped back only because the audience was screaming for more.
Inside of Martyn’s mind, I saw what he was thinking. He realized that he had used an expression he thought I had misunderstood. He would be more careful. As Tete de Lun tried to run off the stage, Martyn held him by the elbow and shook him. Under his breath he muttered, “Stay put, insect. I’m going to destroy you for what you did.”

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman/

The Fake Sorcerer and His Sorcery

It was dark when they arrived by rolling carriage to the place they called a nightclub. I heard much disturbing noise that passed for music, and it got louder as they approached. A fat man wearing garish black makeup around his eyes seemed to be screening the prospective patrons before they passed on to leave money for entrance. The man wore no shirt, but he decorated his chest and arms with a series of black leather straps, some of which must have been dog collars with spikes. 

Martyn looked at him with obvious distain. I suppose he felt quite proud to be about to make his debut as a master sorcerer. He also seemed proud of his garb, which consisted of a ridiculous long black hooded cape over a black suit and white shirt. His female friend dressed in what she thought passed for a witch’s outfit. She wore a long black dress with a long train lined in purple satin. She also wore a black cape, but the back of it was embroidered with a large, upside down, five pointed star. She was telling people to call her Sabrina.

After a long time, during which my host was feeling increasingly nervous, he approached a spindly man sporting vampire teeth, who seemed to be in charge. Martyn said, “You agreed to give me time if I could do what I said I could.”
The man drew back thin, cracked lips over his yellowed teeth in a grimace that passed as a smile. “If you are going to do some stupid magic tricks, I’ll have the bouncer kick your ass in front of everybody. Got it? Anyway, I want to see proof first. This is a serious place. If I get some ass-clown making me look stupid, we’ll lose our reputation.”

Martyn took in a deep breath and mumbled, “I call upon the powers of the Sorcerer Gaumata. Make fire come from my mouth!”

He blew out and I obliged him by making a small blue flame pass from his lips. The master of the establishment was impressed. “Okay, but make this good,” he said. He rang a loud Tibetan type gong until everyone fell silent. He called for the audience to look at the stage, where Martyn and his witch friend had already ascended.

“We at the club Sorceria are proud to present Martyn, the master sorcerer and Sabrina, an eighth level witch.” He made a ridiculous bow and backed away. All eyes were on Martyn, but I heard some giggling too. It seemed that he had some detractors. 

“After much tribulation, after much deprivation and suffering, I, Martyn, have become a master sorcerer. I have within me the knowledge of the ages—I know what only the ancients knew…”

http://www.extasybooks.com/fire-demon/

The Rats Eat the Snakes--Revenge is Sweet--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Let me tell you a little about my plan. I wanted to kill Cyrus, but I needed to enjoy it. It was revenge. Do you remember? He and Rustem had my ears chopped off, which was painful and most of all disfiguring. Now I thought that I must humiliate the so-called great king. The road to that great humiliation was to expose his greatest fear. Ah, yes! I can know a person’s greatest fear, and I exploit that. My dear reader, think of it. What do you fear the most? Do you fear suffocation? Do you fear spiders or cockroaches? Do you fear insanity? Do you fear being exposed for what you really are? Oh yes, I can find that fear in your heart and use it against you. But for now, let me tell you my plans for Cyrus the Great. 

I have explained that he had a fear of being exposed as a normal human. Indeed, being the King of Kings, he had the reputation of being god-like. A Greek visitor once commented that Cyrus the Great was indeed the greatest monarch, for he seemed to have no bodily needs. He never had to void waste. This became his fear. Cyrus feared that someone might find out that he was a normal person who shat like we all do. 
Cyrus had a solitary room people called the “Quiet Room.” 

This room was designed by a skilled craftsman who hid in it a throne that could be converted into a commode when needed. It was a lovely little private house that opened in places to the sky, so that a variety of plants could grow in there too. The king tended to these himself, for no one, not the queens, nor the princes, what to speak of common gardeners, were allowed entrance. Once the building was complete, Cyrus had the craftsman killed, so that his secret would be safe. 

I also wanted him to commit a serious political blunder that would stain his good name in the future. There is nothing more evil than to tarnish a man’s reputation, is there? Ha! My plan was simple. I will explain it tomorrow, for now I am busy. I am not a lazy man. I like to help my host. I caught two monstrous snakes yesterday. Brimming with venom and evil, these snakes had been eating birds and mammals that humans fancy as pets. I paralyzed them with a spell then I got distracted watching two birds fight. I forgot about them, but when I returned the next morning, rats had gotten their revenge by eating them alive. Most amusing.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

Walking Dead--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The biggest of my problems was that Rustem refused to stay dead. I do not mean like your wretchedly ignorant idea of zombies or walking dead people. I cannot believe that even having survived this long entertainment has not improved. I told you that I am staying at the domicile of a person by the name of Forrest. I stay here only on his insistence, for I need no person. If I needed what this simpleton farmer had to offer, I would possess his body. In any case, he introduced me to the flattened box he calls a TV. By some sort of witchcraft it projects the forms of small humans. We sat upon a sort of throne called a couch, and with a wand-like apparatus, he makes the forms appear. His latest interest is a play called Walking Dead People. He appears to be entertained by it, and drinks a bitter ale in a strange metal cup. I tried it, and felt insulted that he did not heat it to the correct temperature. Rather, he served it cold. I threatened to kill him for this insult, and he poured the concoction into a glass flask and placed it into a box that produced a humming noise accompanied by light. I forced him to drink some before I would sample it, for I feared he had tried to poison me.

As for the flattened forms of the Walking Dead People, it gave me an idea. However, I would not personally do this thing. I wondered if a sorcerer tried to inhabit a body, but found it to be dead. If he could not escape, this walking dead person would happen. If one could force the spirit out of a living body and make it go into a dead body, then one would not have to share the body. This has always been a problem for me, so I am thinking about how this might be best accomplished.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

The Magi Are Fools!--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Monushir shifted positions. To me it looked as if he had bad indigestion. He finally spoke. 

“Your Highness has dreamed a dream that may have no special meaning. As you can see, it is a variation of the dream of the hated Median Emperor Astyages, your grandfather. It is different in some respects, however. You have seen a tree, rather than a flood of water. A tree symbolizes stability. That two of the main branches have rotted may mean that you may be neglecting two important aspects that keep your kingdom strong. One is the magi. We feel that following the advice of the magi and having respect for the magi is essential, if one is to maintain unity and strength. The second most important branch represents the Fire Temples in which we operate. Without the upkeep and building of these structures, your kingdom may well rot. I have spoken the words that have been inspired in me by the great Lord Ahura Mazda, as he sees fit to speak through me.” 

The head-mage seemed very pleased with himself and after swallowing back a belch, he fell into a meaningful silence.

I rubbed my hands together when I realized that Cyrus the Great needed to visit the garden Quiet Room. He was tired, yet too anxious to return to sleep. He glanced at the self- righteous, fat man with the grapefruit-sized head and snorted. “Bring me Rustem!”
“We have already informed the Emperor that Rustem the Sorcerer-Mage is dead!” Rusaspa blurted out in nasal, rapid-fire speech.

Cyrus the Great eyed him with a look that made the man wince. “Bring me his son!”

This pronouncement made my jubilation whither. I knew that after Rustem’s death, the magi had collected his son and brought him back to the palace. I worried about the son. Had he inherited his father’s gifts? The girl, his sister, was missing, so I did not worry about her. I wish I had been able to control Cyrus before he blurted out his desire to see the accursed brat! I could see that my technique still needed adjustments.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/seeing-crimson/

An Evil Feast--The Sorcerer Gaumata

To continue my story, the mage went on:
“Harpagus the soldier finally confessed to the king when pressed to tell the truth. By this time, the king was loathe to kill his grandson, so instead he punished the poor soldier. One day, Emperor Astyages invited Harpagus to a feast and he asked the soldier to send his young son in the morning so that he could spend some time with the other noble children before the feast. Harpagus was delighted to have been invited, and he decided that the king must have reconsidered his dire act and realized that it was better to have a noble grandson like young Cyrus.
“All of the nobles were served by porters who came and set various meats and other delightful foods on their dishes. Harpagus ate heartily of the tender meat while laughing and telling stories of his exploits along with the other men. Toward the end of the great feast, Emperor Astyages called for order. He announced that Harpagus was the guest of honor and was therefore, the only one who would partake of the last wonderful dish. The steward brought a great covered dish out before him and opened it. Harpagus’ grin turned into a rictus of terror when he saw the head of his son surrounded by his severed feet, hands, and genitals in a gaily- decorated arrangement.
‘Do you know where the fine meat that you have eaten so heartily came from?’ asked Emperor Astyages.
“For a moment, Harpagus was too stunned and grief stricken to speak, then fearing for the lives of his other family members, he said, “Yes, my Lord. I understand.” He took the remains home for the death rituals and wept bitterly for his lost favorite son.
Harpagus feared for his family after that time, but he continued to act as Astyages’ faithful and apt soldier. He would bide his time.

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sicilian-undead/

The Meaning of the Nightmare--The Sorcerer Gaumata

As I said, this was the first time I had entered a person who was deep in a dream. It was disorienting. I felt Cyrus woke with a start.  Sweat was beaded up on his brow and upper lip.  His night clothes were damp with cold perspiration.  But he remembered the dream, as I did!  I sensed that he dared not go to sleep again because he has had this dream before, only he would always forget the dream by the time the morning would come. 
Now I discovered another strange anomaly. Cyrus is able to exert his will at times, even when I tried to take over. Yes, I had noticed that this was the case with Rustem, but he was, after all, a sorcerer. Perhaps he had put some sort of protective spell on the king. I did not know, so it worried me. It took much energy to even guide his thoughts. 
Cyrus waited for a moment in his enormous bed, sitting still in the moonlit room with his head in his hands.  I regressed to a corner of his mind, waiting, for I felt weakened. When his panicked heartbeat returned to normal, he reached out for the bell on his nightstand and began to clang it vigorously.  When the wild-eyed servant rushed in, disheveled and panicked, the King of Kings said, “Get the magi.  Assemble them into the council chamber without delay.”

There was a short silence as the magi glanced at each other after the emperor related his dream to them. The candlelight did not entirely banish the darkness in the Council Chamber and the utter silence outside added to the air of a secret meeting.
“Ahem...” Monushir the Head Mage looked at the others. “Well, speak!” Cyrus demanded. “This dream, as you well know, is remarkably similar to the dream of Astyages, the Median Emperor, and your grandfather. Will you permit me to retell this noble tale for the sake of the young magi?” Monushir asked.
Cyrus waved him on.
“As you recall, Astyages had dreamed that a great flood came from his daughter, Mandane’s womb, and had flooded the world. Calling the magi to interpret the dream, they told the Mede that his daughter’s womb would produce the man who would overthrow him. Wanting to avert such a disaster, Astyages married her to an unambitious Persian by the name of Cambyses and then sent the couple off to rule Persia. He thus tried to insure that his daughter’s son would not be a threat. He would be a Persian, owing to his father’s lines, and he would live far from the capital. Astyages had no peace, however. Later, as the dream returned, haunting his days and nights, he decided to kill the child that his daughter and the Persian, Cambyses, had produced.” He tuned to the young magi. “You understand now, that this baby would become none other than our lord, Cyrus the Great, King of Kings.” He bowed and continued.

“Sending a trusted soldier by the name of Harpagus to Persia to perform the evil deed, Emperor Astyages tried to forget about the affair and to regain some of his peace of mind. To his dismay, the dreams did not go away. They became worse. What Astyages did not know, was that the soldier had been so affected by the pleas of the princess for the innocent, but regal baby Cyrus, that instead of killing it, he left the baby prince with peasants whose baby had just died. As time passed, the child’s kingly bearing set him apart from the other peasant boys and soon the tales of a princely child reached the ears of the great Astyages, who began to suspect that his grandson Cyrus was not dead after all.”
To be continued…

http://www.extasybooks.com/burned-dreams-8/

Enter the Demons--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Enough of this! I used this vile custom against my enemy. Rustem stared at his daughter with his mouth agape, then ordered her out to the Bleeding Hut. She began to cry and the Sorceress Anahita took pity on her and went with her to the cold and dark hut. The women had to leave the house now, because I would make sure that Rustem adhered to the custom of isolating menstruating females, no matter that he was terrified of being alone. The mother seemed determined to accompany her daughter to the bleeding hut. That was an unexpected boon, for she was the real problem. I chuckled again when I considered the thrill of sharing and enhancing Rustem’s fear. I rubbed my hands together and grinned at the image of Rustem gawking at the awful red stain, and feeling the demons crowd into the room. In his mind, the poor, big lout could hear the demons scuttling awkwardly, and his hands shook as his eyes darted around the room. This is going to be fun, I thought.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

Why the Magi Think Women are Demons Sometimes--The Sorcerer Gaumata

You are not from these times, so I will explain Rustem’s terror. The magi had strange and fantastic beliefs. One was that when a woman menstruated, she was actually possessed by a demon. The blood was the indication of that possession. This story came from the fables of the Magi.

I will retell the story as far as I can remember:

It says in the Tradition that, in the beginning of time, the God Ahura Mazda and the Evil Spirit Ahriman had to fight for dominion. Ahura Mazda created man, who could help and support the god.  When the Foul Spirit saw that both he and the demons would be undone by the Righteous Man (the first man created by the god), he was stunned. For 3000 years he lay stunned.

         During that stupor, the animal-headed demons one by one lied, speaking into his ear: “Rise up, our father, for we will fight such a battle that Ahura Mazda, the God, will be in dire straits!”

         One by one they enumerated their evil deeds in detail.

         It did not pacify the wicked Foul Spirit, Ahriman, and he did not rise from his stupor for fear of the Righteous Man until the wicked Whore came at the completion of the 3000 years and lied: “Rise up, our father, for in that battle I shall let loose so much harm upon the Righteous Man and the toiling Bull that their lives will not be worth living. I shall steal their Fortune, I shall harm the water, the earth, the fire, the plant, and the entire creation established by Ahura Mazda!”

         She enumerated her evil-doings in such detail that the Foul Spirit was pacified. He jumped out of his stupor and placed a kiss on the Whore’s head. The pollution now called “menses” appeared on the Whore then.

         The Foul Spirit lied to the Whore: “Ask for whatever you want, and I will give it to you!”

         Then Ahura Mazda knew in his omniscience that, at that time, the Foul Spirit was able to give the Whore what she wanted and that she would acquire much profit thereby.

      The Foul Spirit’s body was like a frog to look at, but he showed a man like a 15-year-old youth to the Whore and bound the Whore’s mind to him.

         The Whore lied to the Foul Spirit: “Give me the desire for man, so that I can sit down as his ward in his house!”

    The Foul Spirit lied to her: “I shall not tell you to ask for anything again, for you only know how to ask for profitless, bad things.” But the time had passed, and if she had asked for it, he would not have been able to give it to her.

In the minds of the magi, this story means that human women, because of having the curse of menstruation placed upon them, will take on the qualities of the demonic Whore. Indeed, they are possessed by foul demons during this time. The men force them out of the house, even if it is freezing outside, and make them stay in the “Bleeding Hut,” as they call it. The woman is not given warmth, and they receive little food, which is passed through a hole in the wall as if the woman were a prisoner. She is not allowed to leave for five days. It is a cruel and senseless act against women. I find the magi to be hypocrites. They call me evil, but they are even more evil. At least I admit my evil and embrace it.

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-eternal-fox-sorcerer/

Finally I Found Myself Inside the Head of My Enemy--The Sorcerer Gaumata

As I hoped, one night Rustem secretly left the palace compound with his family. He did not inform the king about his intentions, for he thought he could escape me. He did not want anyone to know his whereabouts, but I found him. I remember that night fondly, although there were some dire difficulties in store for me yet.  
I chuckled softly as I entered the house, my steps as light as a breeze. I felt a thrill course through me as I realized that it was all within my reach now. They were within reach. They had eluded me for so long, but now I was actually looking down at the sleeping figures. I rubbed my hands together in expectation and wanted to clap, but this would surely awaken them. Then I remembered that I was nothing but a mental being now, for I had the power to leave my body and enter another’s for a longer period. This made me smile so broadly that my cheeks hurt. Yes, I still thought I could feel that, but it was because I maintained a connection with my own body, which was surely grinning now as I grinned.
Things seemed so clear as I had made my plans yesterday, but now...It was impossible to get into Rustem’s head when he was awake, and there was no way I would try the woman. As I have said before, I have sworn off women a long time ago. I stared down at them, anxiety beginning to scratch at my mind like an insect at a window seeking the light of the house from the darkness of the night. “What if one of them wakes up?” a timid voice in my mind nagged. Now I felt my fury rise as I tried to push down my fear. Fear. How could I ever feel fear? My power was growing stronger every day. Now if I could only take care of Rustem, my nemesis.
The woman stirred slightly and I panicked. I looked behind me and saw the closed door. She moved again, her hair lit by the moonlight that entered the crack of a wall. My body was safely tucked away in a hollow of a tree far from here, but I knew she would see me anyway. The bitch had power and an uncanny vision. She would have to die.
She tossed again now, and driven by my terror, I suddenly dived into Rustem’s mind. I immediately knew I would regret my haste. Rustem gave a sudden spasm as I entered, panic-stricken and crouching silently in a corner of his mind. I dared not show myself until the time was right. I needed the man to be weakened somehow. I needed the woman to be gone. I was like a parasite now, except that I could see through Rustem’s eyes and feel with his body. I decided to wait. It wasn’t the time to take control yet.

http://www.extasybooks.com/fire-demon/

My Agony--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Hiding in the hole in the trunk of a tree, I spent weeks in intense agony as my wounds healed. Maggots writhed in the flesh of my head and I had to remove them one by one with a sharpened twig. I had what seemed like a lifetime to contemplate the evil that had been done to me—and to imagine my revenge. When I was well enough to venture out, I wrapped moss over my wounds and fashioned a turban with the cloth of my sash. I found a man wearing a Scythian style boiled wool hat I thought would be perfect. It had flaps over the ears to conceal my shame. I would have killed him and taken it, but I still felt weak. Instead, I gave him three coppers and he turned over the hat, which smelled deeply of the foulness of his head. I gagged, but one adjusts to such things.

I once again entered the forest and began to practice my spells and curses with a diligence I had never had before. I would perfect my craft. Now I had not only the inborn talent, but also the greatest motivation a man can have—revenge. Day and night the vision of Rustem insane with fear filled my mind. Again and again I imagined the tortures I would inflict upon him. He would rue the day he went up against the Sorcerer Gaumata. Even now I feel the urge to rub my hands together and feel the heat of my hatred.

How I was Ensnared--The Sorcerer Gaumata

So I found myself again caught in a woman’s trap. The woman was decorated with delicate jewelry, but she was obviously dressed for an intimate encounter with the king. Her slight bosom was barely covered in a gossamer silk that showed every detail of her young breasts. The skirt she wore concealed nothing. It was totally sheer. I decided that I had to leave and try to figure out how to overcome this problem. 
The king held out a paw-like hand, calloused by wielding the sword. Her delicate little hand slipped into it and she giggled slightly. I was poised to leave, but something in the king’s mind grabbed me like a vise around a certain part of my body. I realized that his body was responding to the sight of the woman. He lusted for her. Oh the gods and demons! She brazenly sat on his lap and wiggled as she felt his rising appendage against her body. She turned and I could see her pink lips, but I no longer heard what she was saying. She stroked the king’s perfectly coifed beard with one hand and—may she be cursed—she slipped the other hand into his royal robe, pinching his nipple as if she were possessed by the primeval Whore Jahi. I felt my body convulse. I felt his hideous erection building as if it were a pig’s bladder filled with too much water. It would burst and I would die.
I finally fought down my panic and took control. I used the king’s body to snatch the girl by her hair and fling her to the ground. She ran from the room after staring at him in disbelief. I was just about to make good my escape when the door flung open and the accursed sorcerer-mage Rustem stepped in. He saw me. I know he saw me there in the mind of the king, although I cannot say how. He reached for his waist and pulled out the kusti rope these mages wear to effect a spell and he shook it hard three times. I screamed as I was wrenched out and thrown back into my body. The pain I felt was agonizing. I screamed again as I saw that a large rat was gnawing on my left great toenail, causing it to bleed. My cry barely frightened it, and it stared at me with red eyes and a bloody mouth.
I hastened back to my quarters in the mage hall, but the sorcerer-mage Rustem was waiting for me with armed soldiers. Before I could dispel them with a curse, Rustem put a binding spell on me. He was devilishly powerful. It was at this point that I decided that when I killed him—for certainly I would never suffer a man to live who was so powerful—I would see to it that he suffered intensely. Yes, he would know fear like he never imagined.

http://www.extasybooks.com/son-of-fire-10/

Journal of the Sorcerer Gaumata--How I Began My New Life as a Sorcerer

After killing those two, I left the place and returned in the morning when the crowd was removing her charred remains. The villagers saw me and immediately began to make the sign against the evil eye. Nobody dared accuse me of sorcery aloud, and this made me smile. I’d finally revealed my power. They were helpless against me. I inspired dread!
I left only to return later to eavesdrop on their conversations. Indeed, many of them suddenly remembered incidences where they had been forced to do things when they had been around me. They even accused me of things I’d not done. I felt a surge of power. No longer was I the skinny brat who was beaten and hated. No longer was I simply the grown, pitiful son of the town whore. I wanted to feel the power.
It was the morning of the next day and people congregated near the village well. I approached and stood fearlessly in the midst of them. The same people who had treated me like a dog made way for me and looked at me fearfully, but nobody dared to attack me. They just made the sign against evil and looked away. I wanted more. That night, I killed two cats and threw them into the village well. I imagined the reeking water after a few days. It would have been wonderful, I thought, to know a few spells and curses to increase the power of the evil I had wrought, but I was a mere pup. There was much for me to acquire.
I left that night hungering for knowledge. My mother had accused me of sorcery for my entire life. Now I saw this as a good thing. I wanted to surpass even my father in evil. Finally I was powerful! I had a mission in life and greatness awaited me. The only thing I needed now was a master who could teach me how to bridle this incredible power that came naturally to me. I wondered if my father had known what he was doing when he sired me. Had he longed for a powerful heir? If so, why had he left me alone with no guidance? It seemed that he indeed had a purpose, for he’d stayed with my mother until he was well sure that she was pregnant.
I couldn’t shake the idea that I was a miserable accident—a result only of his base urge to mate. I couldn’t stomach the idea that I was but a product of lust. If I ever found my father, I determined, I would torture and kill him before having to learn the truth. Before meeting him I would be powerful enough to cut the tongue out of his head and feed it to the buzzards in the desert. I elected not to hear the truth. I wanted to think that he had sired me as his heir. I was the culmination of his power! I was a son for which he could be proud. I would surpass him in the skills of sorcery! And then I would put him to death for his insolence!

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman/

From the Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal--How I Committed My First Monstrous Crime--Warning: not for the weak

Ha!!! It was the one act that finally allowed me entrance into the ranks of the sorcerers. Dear readers, do you really think it is as easy as reading a book on black magic? No. Despite the fact that my "talent" was inborn, I needed one black act to burst out of the bubble of normal life and finally pass over into the realm where one truly has given up all troublesome signs of humanity. True--I had committed crimes before this, but cold blooded murder is different. Whenever I think of it, my body quickens. I could actually feel the darkness as it came over me. Delicious! The power that was unleashed made me burst with joy so much that I rubbed my hands together rapidly until in a flash of ecstasy, I clapped them. Sparks flew out around me and I began to dance. 

I was twenty years of age, a grown man, when I finally killed my mother. We still lived in the small, one-room hut with the dirty sheet separating us. My mother changed men often. It seemed that her career as a whore had given her a perverse taste for the worst of them. This time my mother had come home with a fat man who had begun to undress even before he had retreated to his side of the sheet. He regarded me with a lascivious stare. His eyes were nearly hidden in the porcine face, but I still could see them dully watching me as he stroked his lower belly, which was as close as he could get to the stubby penis that peeked out from the mounds of flesh.

The obese man’s thighs were rolls of fat that jiggled as his excited manhood peeped out. My mother began to protest that I was watching. The man didn’t respond. Instead, he fell upon her and began to rip off her clothes. Her protestations became weak and within minutes, the whore was responding to him with her own grunts. They were rutting swine. I was disgusted.
I waited for a few minutes until my disgust became unbearable and then I got up and looked at them for a minute. The fat man’s behind was spread obscenely as he completely covered my mother. She saw me for a moment, but the man’s meaty face covered both her nose and mouth with his thick lips as he began to suck on her face. I went out and breathed the air. It seemed to me that the smell of their obscene, goatish mating had left its scent on me forever. Taking the oil lamp I still held in my hand, I spilled the oil all around the thatch roofed wooden hut. I then barred the door from the outside and tossed the lighted lamp and whatever oil remained onto the hut. It caught in an instant.

I first heard the high-pitched and frantic screams of my mother and then the bellowing of the fat man. I wondered if it was finally hot enough for her. I wondered if her itch had finally been satisfied. The screaming continued and the man threw himself against the door until it finally collapsed and he emerged, his entire naked body burning as if the accumulated fat in that corpse could burn like that for a month. He ran away from the hut, only to fall with his arms outstretched and his blackened body twitching fiercely. My mother stayed in the inferno. Now I was finally a whole man.