Happy Halloween

I AM SO DAMN HANDSOME!!!

www.yaoi-books.com
I cannot believe that even at over 3,000 years I still look so good.

The Predator gets Preyed Upon

The next morning we heard the sound of deep snoring coming from the pen. Tigran, now in a dog form, was sleeping with his jaws clamped on the limp form of a weasel—yes, it was a long, muscular, snake-like brown creature. Its mouth hung open, revealing long, white teeth. When he heard us approaching, Tigran shook the dead creature once again, I suppose in an attempt to show us his kill.
“How could such a small creature be so deadly?” my host asked.
“My dear foolish Forrest,” I began. “Why not?”
“It seems so wrong,” Forrest said. “I always thought that animals killed because they had to eat. This thing killed for sport. It never ate much of anything. It just enjoyed murdering things. People do that, not animals. Besides, weasels are supposed to kill rats. We have so many of them. Why not murder all of them?”
I had to laugh. “Fool! Humans are animals! As animals are savage, so are we. The only thing that changes this is human culture. It teaches us that killing for sport is wrong—not that this stops wanton killing, but at least it keeps the bulk of people in check. Do you not observe how human children are so savage? If they could, they would inflict great harm on their peers. They do quite often. When I was a skinny scrap of a boy I was bullied mercilessly. Day in and day out, children from my village beat me, inflicted upon me cruel verbal abuse, and caused me to live in perpetual fear. Animals are made of the same stuff as we are. Some animals, like some humans, are not vicious. Some, like the worst of our kind, are monstrous.”
Tigran began to crunch on the creature’s head. I pet his soft fur, and he dropped the headless corpse at my feet, perhaps inviting me to eat of the kill. I found it to be rather pungent. It was no doubt a male.
http://www.yaoi-books.com/

Was it a Spirit, a Monster, or a Sorcerer?

Ah, yes. Sometimes these rural simpletons bore me. Concerning the slaughter of birds and bunnies, these are my findings: The following day we accompanied Forrest to the fortified steel cages were he had cleverly placed the stricken rabbits. They were strong cages, but the sight that presented itself was one of horror. My werewolf companion began to slather with a mix of anger, and I suppose hunger.
One of the rabbits was flayed and headless near the outer cage door. Another was headless within the cage, while another was high up on a shelf where the unfortunate late pigeons used to perch. Its liver lay next to the mangled body. None of the animals had been consumed properly, proving that it was a killing for malicious reasons alone.
“What sort of magic is this?” Forrest screamed in frustration before vomiting. “How is it that the cage door is securely locked, yet the rabbits are dead?”
I looked and saw that indeed, the cage was soundly locked, but I smelled no sorcery. Then I saw it. “Observe,” I said. “The creature crawled through the feeder and into the cage. It had to be long and quite skinny.”
“How did it get the large rabbits out of the cage?” he asked.
“Hmm…” I mused to myself. “Perhaps it broke their bones.”
Tigran roared and began to roll in the carrion. I was not in the mood to think about the subtleties of animal husbandry. “I will ask my minion to guard the animals,” I offered, pointing to Tigran.
Forrest shook his head. “That monster will eat the rest of them—I’m sure of that.”
“That is my offer. He will refrain from eating the rabbits, ducks, and chickens. I will allow him to eat one large Wal-Mart shopper before the night comes. Although it is certain to contain much of the dreaded cholesterol, he can digest it well,” I assured him.
“Well, okay, then. Just make sure it is an evil person,” he grumbled. I smiled and patted the werewolf’s red fur. It made a series of purring roars.

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.

The Pharaoh's Useless Brains--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The priests moved the body of the Pharaoh to the royal embalmers. They had been prepared for this momentous event for a long time. Richly decorated canopic jars stood ready to receive the royal internal organs. The heart, being the seat of intelligence, would remain in the body. A large stone sarcophagus was set up in the room. This was not to be the final resting place, but the container that would hold the body while it cured and dried before mummification. It was full of natron over one layer of pure salt.

The priests were in attendance as the embalmers prepared the royal body and they began chanting the spells that were necessary for this stage. Taking a needle-thin, sharp knife, the senior embalmer made a deft jab at the navel of the body. He cut upwards, carefully avoiding the membrane separating the internal organs and the muscle. He made three more cuts until he could expose the cavity. Then taking another knife, he carefully pierced the membrane, and without ever injuring an organ, he began to cut away each one, then handed the organ over to an assistant who stood close by, holding an almost flat reed basket. Two men were holding the basket now as he skillfully cut the intestines out and began to scoop them into a large reed cone and then transferred the shimmering mass into their waiting basket. 

When this was done, the priests could see the Pharaoh’s backbone through his collapsed abdomen. One assistant held the mouth of the Pharaoh open as the master made several expert cuts that freed the esophagus and lungs. The lungs were removed by carefully cutting through the upper part of the abdomen and pulling them through the small incision. The cavity was washed now with palm wine and pounded spices. The assistant wiped the blood often from both the body and from the master’s hands and arms. The brain was removed through the nose using a long, hooked instrument. The master embalmer removed it expertly, although it was usually a messy procedure. It was placed in the reed basket with the rags, because it was not considered to be of any value to the Pharaoh in the afterworld.

Finally, the body was lifted carefully and placed in the sarcophagus. The abdominal cavity was filled with pure bruised myrrh, cassia, and other aromatic substances and then sewed up. The mouth was also filled with the mixture of materials, but it was skillfully pushed into place so that it bore a calm expression. Natron was poured over the body now, so that it could dry out in preparation for mummification. It was late in the night when they finally finished and the exhausted men set out for their quarters.

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

Psamtik the Scarecrow--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Psamtik sat on the minor throne he had occupied before the death of his father, the Pharaoh. His scrawny shoulders shook with indignation as the priests explained to him for the tenth time that he had to wait for the ceremony before he could ascend the pharaoh’s throne. His face was thin and his nose hawkish. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his lips were so thin that his steward had to paint them to make them more visible.

Matwa watched Ankhare as he looked at the young man in disgust. Matwa could see that Psamtik’s claw-like hand was clutching the arm of his throne and he watched as a blue vein pulsed in the skinny neck under a gold neckband. One time Ankhare had told Matwa that he would never have such a poor specimen even clean pots for his troops, but this scarecrow who seemed to be certain that he was already a god, would be the Pharaoh. Matwa felt a sharp twinge of doubt and he looked away. He was going to have to accept it, but his mind continued to doubt. Could they, the priests, transform this weakling into a god? Didn’t they need better material to work with?

“It is now time, Prince Psamtik,” Matwa began, “for you to come to the room where your father, god of the underworld now...”

“No, no, no!” Psamtik interrupted, “I want to lie down now for my nap! I always do! Just because the old Pharaoh died does not mean that I have to change my schedule.” Psamtik’s eyes were red and his thin lips set in determination.

Matwa looked helplessly at Ankhare, as if for help, but the general was studying the ground and blushing furiously in shame. Kawaba, Psamtik’s mother, stood up and took the young man’s hand without further arguments and began to lead him from the room. He stood quite tall, as almost all of the Pharaoh’s children did, but as he left, they saw his backbone clearly. His shoulder blades protruded like the tucked in wings of a pelican.

Matwa knew what Kawaba was doing. He’d actually seen the disgusting thing before, since Psamtik was unashamed. Kawaba would lie down on the bed after settling her son in. She would lift her sash and when he opened his mouth wide to take in most of her sagging breast, she always winced. He would suck vigorously, although she was as dry as a mummy’s tit in late summer. He always did this when he felt insecure. Matwa groaned as he imagined the young pharaoh-to-be with his eyes shut—those eyes that looked like balls with a thin membrane stretched over them— while he made loud sucking noises. He looked away in disgust and began to study the cracks in the stone floor.

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

The Pharaoh--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The following was related to me by a trusted follower, who I killed later. I include this so that you will have some idea as to the situation in Egypt as King Cambyses made his plans to invade:

The body of the Pharaoh Ahmose lay on a stone slab. He was dressed splendidly. Even his crown was propped into place. His arms lay crossed on his chest in the manner of a mummy and the two scepters glinted in the sunlight. Attendants walked noiselessly through the room as a phalanx of shaved-headed priests dressed in pure white stood looking at the body, as if it would get up at any moment and address them. The Pharaoh had finally entered the underworld, where he would rule forever. The heat of the day was intense. Matwa, the head priest, knew that he must give the order that the body of the god-king be taken to the royal embalmers. He hesitated because his heart was heavy with thoughts of the state of Egypt.
The great Pharaoh Ahmose was truly the god on earth and now he was Osiris and would rule the underworld. None of the priests surrounding the dead pharaoh showed any emotion, for this was a time of grave peril for the king. His body had to be prepared and this might take up to six weeks. The tomb was well prepared—it had been for the last thirty years. A priest used a fly whisk to make sure no insect landed on the king.
No, it wasn’t the fact that the pharaoh had gone to the underworld that bothered Matwa, but that he had left no real successor. The son who had been groomed for the throne of Upper and Lower Egypt was now dead. He preceded his father in death, thanks to the Greeks. Pharaoh Ahmose had been keen on strengthening his ties with the Greeks, but Ahmose III had died in a shipwreck on his way to Greece on an expedition.
Now they were left only with the sickly and effeminate Psamtik III. The priesthood opposed his ascension, but his mother was far more powerful than the other queens and it would be impossible to change the course of events now. Matwa had been in favor of a lesser ranked son, Ankhare, who was serving as the army commander. He was virile and steadfast. Psamtik, on the other hand...

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-in-egypt/

Ha!! Do You See The Evil Glint in His Eye??

The Madness of King Cambyses

My plan was to make Cambyses mad, as I had his father, Cyrus the Great. It began with his obsession with Egypt, one of the Persian satrapies. 

“What do you think?” Cambyses asked Mihr, his advisor, cocking his head as he studied the map. Mihr opened his mouth, but Cambyses said, “Hmm, yes, I think so too.” He stroked his black beard contemplatively. Mihr did not move. The emperor cocked his head, as if listening and nodding his head slightly. 
Suddenly Cambyses turned and glared at him. Cambyses opened his eyes wide in a look of indescribable hatred and began to stalk towards Mihr. Cambyses began to reach for his dagger, but Mihr reached for his holy kusti string and shook it.

“Your Majesty, I... I have answered your summons!” Mihr said in a trembling voice. The emperor stopped. Mihr’s voice had ended the trance I had placed on him, hoping to have him kill that gnat of an advisor. 

His stance relaxed and he smiled at Mihr, gesturing him eagerly to follow him to the wall map of Egypt. He began to talk excitedly. 

“... my destiny! I can feel it calling to me! I want to go to Egypt to conquer that ancient land. Maybe I’ll even set up a capital there eventually. Mihr, I want to become a real pharaoh. I want you to get all the information that you can on their customs and religious practices.”

“Uh, yes, at once Your Majesty,” Mihr said. 

“First, however, I will begin to treat my magi more like the pharaoh treats his priests. They are landowners and nobles under Pharaoh. In exchange, they will think of me as god on earth.” Cambyses smiled slowly, his eyes taking on a far away look. “A god on earth,” he repeated, seeming to taste the syllables. He turned to Mihr, his eyes bright and intense with his passion. “Mihr, you must help me with this, I need that information! I need to become a god!”

Mihr bowed his head in reverence. “Oh King of Kings, I sense that there is already divinity in you.”

Cambyses’ eyes lit up in triumph. “You are a smart one, Mihr! No wonder my father had so much faith in you. Do you know that my mother was actually an Egyptian princess, the daughter of the great Pharaoh Ahmose, who rules Egypt? Pharaoh Ahmose has been ruling for forty years now. He is old, very old.”

Mihr made a sound of agreement, but the emperor had already turned and was studying the map of Egypt with rapt attention. 
When he returned the next day, I, Gaumata, smiled. I imagined what he was thinking as a guttural voice in a strange language greeted him. There was no one else in the room but Cambyses, who sat upon his throne as straight as the depictions of the pharaoh he had seen. He wore a short skirt of golden material and was holding two strange looking scepters.

The emperor just sat there, looking straight ahead and Mihr looked as though he didn’t know whether to stay or to leave. 
Finally Cambyses spoke. “Pharaoh Ahmose has just died. He came to me in a dream and told me to set out for Egypt to claim my throne.” 

Everyone had already heard about the death of the pharaoh. However, the emperor wanted people to believe that he had seen it in a vision. So Mihr made the appropriate expressions of joy and wonder.

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

The Prince and the Girls--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now Prince Cambyses was assured the position of King of Kings. I had made it possible. What a clever fellow I am! I was becoming quite settled in the palace, inside of his head. The only thing was that I needed somehow to control his sexual urges. It was disgusting the way his body seemed always alert for women. One day, I saw that my training was finally taking root.

A sound from the curtained doorway made Cambyses glance up briefly. Sarada, one of the youngest of Prince Cambyses’ wives came into the room where he sat, head down, as he inspected some of the precious items he had taken from his father’s quarters. She wanted to sit on his lap, as was her custom when she wanted to complain about one of her senior co-wives. 

Cambyses was annoyed, but he allowed her to climb onto his lap as he examined a small, filigreed locket. She was babbling on. Usually he found her as adorable as a newborn filly, but today, an odd rage seemed to well up within him. Her words grated on his senses and this startled him because usually he was able to tune her out completely until she was ready to go to bed with him.

“And so it I was just standing there and she said did I say you could wear my shift? And I said, well, why not, you once used the ring I left on the table that time, and she said well you stole that from me, don’t you remember? And so anyway then...”

Cambyses let his knee go limp and the girl began to slip to the floor. She grabbed him around the neck and tried to kiss him, but he shied away. Abruptly, she pulled back and wiped her lips on her sleeve.

“What is that smell? Maybe you were holding baby Xerxes on your lap? And maybe he pooped on you?”

Cambyses pushed her to the floor violently and glared at her as if she were an enemy. She ran crying from the room and Cambyses called his steward to fix him a hot bath. He just had to bathe and get the awful feel of that woman off of him. How could he bear those women—there were just so many of them swarming in his quarters, in the gardens, everywhere. “If anyone smells it’s them— the dirty evil creatures,” he growled. He stood swaying slightly as his eyes filmed over. He smiled sardonically and began to undress.

That, my friends, was my doing. My personality was beginning to rise in him.

Assassinate the Assassins--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The next day, the victorious assassin squad was near the city when a scout reached Prince Cambyses. “I see the traitors that I was to watch for, Oh Prince! They are still outside the city.”

“Prepare the troops. They are to die, each and every one of them. Do not bring me prisoners. I have been informed that they have plotted to take my life, but nobody knew why they left the city but my informant. They were conspiring with the old Babylonian priesthood to kill me before I could ascend the throne,” Cambyses watched the scout’s eyes widen. His own face was grave, but in his heart he was jubilant, for he knew now that his brother was dead. The plan was going wonderfully. He had Bardiya killed by the assassins, now he would have the troops kill the assassins. His dark secret would die with them.

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

My Wickedly Ingenious Plan--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now it was time to really get to work. I made sure that by the morning, Prince Cambyses had totally forgotten about his foray to the garden Quiet Room. As planned, the princes and magi, as well as some other nobles close to the dead king, Cyrus the Great, assembled to witness the demolition of the Quiet Room. Many tears were shed as the building was beaten down until only a pile of limestone lay in its place. There was much to do. The magi would oversee the transition of the throne, not that Cambyses agreed with that, but it was the protocol. 

The biggest problem was that succession was far from a settled fact. Some of the magi thought that there should be a period of waiting and finally they won out. I had to make sure that Cambyses won the throne, for he was my vehicle.

Cambyses and his brother were expected to deal with the problems that were plaguing the empire with the king’s passing. Many of the upstart kingdoms saw this as a time to rebel. Prince Bardiya was set to go to the far off kingdom of Susa to the east. Cambyses knew that he should return to Babylon, where he had been ruling, if only to quell the rumors, but he did not think it was safe to leave the capital at such a time. And there was the problem of settling the question of succession for once and for all.

Prince Bardiya was setting out for Susa, where he would quell the rebellion before returning for the decision of the magi.  Bardiya didn’t even know if he wanted to rule at all. What I got from the mind of Cambyses was that all his brother wanted was to hunt all day. 

I made a plan and let it enter my victim’s mind. His rage and fear that he would lose the throne made him a more than willing participant. He called together a secret meeting with a few of his most adept assassins. They would follow Bardiya as he made his way to Susa, but while the royal party slept, they would attack and kill the prince. They were to hide his remains along with those of his party. Even horses would have to be killed and hidden in the vast series of craggy cliffs and ravines.

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

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/

Massacre of the Massagetae--The Sorcerer Gaumata's Journal

By this time, Cyrus the Great was getting a reputation for being a bit zany—ha! After all, I was in his head. When he called his army together to move against the Massagetae, his advisors, especially the now adult Mihr, were against the campaign. It would be a disaster, they told him, but he cared not. So they left for the long journey. 

I have told you that Cyrus wanted to keep up the fantasy of his being god-like. People believed that he never defecated or even passed urine. Now, as the trip dragged on, he found it harder and harder to arrange a situation where he could relieve himself unseen. He became very constipated. This was my plan, of course.

The day arrived when we were very close to our destination. Our scouts reported that in the absence of the Queen, who had gone to secure allies, the foolish prince had tried to usurp the kingdom. Now the army of the Massagetae was in disarray. Cyrus ordered an attack, and most of the army was destroyed. This was very good, he thought, but he had not considered Queen Apuyani, who was to return with her allies.

The night after the massacre of the Massagetae army there was feasting and merriment in the Persian camp. By the time the soldiers had retired for the night, they were quite drunk.
The dawn was just breaking when Cyrus heard the war cries and lunged from his bed. He dressed hurriedly, for there was no way that he would appear in disarray. His guards would hold them off. He needed to urinate, but there was nothing that could be done about that now. His headache throbbed and he thought about his comfortable garden Quiet Room where he could sit in peace and silence.

His charger was saddled and pawing the ground when Cyrus appeared from his tent. The soldier holding the reins looked pale and panicky.

“It’s the Massagetae, Your Highness, and they have allies, their kin, the Paralatae Scythians. Our army is much larger, but they have attacked without warning,” the soldier’s voice broke as if he were a teenaged boy.

Cyrus was annoyed, but he felt a twang of sympathy for the young man, who could be among the dead when this was over. Taking the reins, he reassured him, “they are only barbarians without the slightest idea of how to conduct an attack. Let’s send them to their barbarian afterworld without delay so they can enjoy their reward!”

http://www.extasybooks.com/banner-of-fire-9/

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/