Chapter Eight: Devil's Errand

The time between Midsummer and when the new school year began was always the most tedious for him. Usually he had enough reading material from the traders to satisfy him yet even then the days lingered on at a frustrating slowness. This year was not like all the others before. Something occupied Lezard's attention so he didn't even buy anything during Midsummer, and only left his room to give his faithful cat some exercise.

None of the servants went near his room any longer and by now all in the house were aware of the change in the young man. His father sensed it as well but could never get his son to talk about the matter. The more they tried to reach him the more reclusive he became until they conceded to let it alone. His grades were stellar and he was far ahead of others in his year, so really his father couldn't complain of Lezard's thirst for knowledge.

Lezard always went out on his walks just as the sun was starting to set. His cat Sophos would accompany him, and once he was away from home he would summon his familiar. The cool evening air was a relief to the animals after spending hours in a stuffy room. Lezard's familiar, a pigmy dragon he called Drache, would fly above its master and dive down to attack creatures that came near. Lezard paused if his animal companions strayed too far and allowed them to catch up before moving on.

"I have to get their help again," the boy said aloud. It was difficult to tell whether he was speaking to the two animals, or to himself. "I feel there is still more I can know. There must be some secret in gaining the knowledge I desire. They will know the answer."

He fell into thoughtful silence, his feet slowing their pace as if he were studying the streets for clues. The town was growing darker around him as people prepared for sleep. He passed them by, almost irresistibly drawn to a grave site. Ever since that day, he found himself passing by graves all the time. He felt that if he could only learn the secrets of the dead, he would be closer to his desire.

Drache shot out like an arrow into the bushes. Lezard was snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden movement. "Drache, what have you got there?" he demanded. "Bring it to me at once!" The familiar obediently returned, depositing a trembling rabbit at his master's feet. Lezard knelt down and touched the soft white fur of the creature. "No need to fear, little one. You're safe with me." The rabbit calmed at once and nuzzled a little toward Lezard's hand. Fresh blood stained the boy's fingers.

Blood…

"What?" Lezard pulled his hand away from the rabbit. He heard, or thought he heard, a voice whisper the word seductively in his ear. He lifted his hand and saw clearly the rabbit's blood on his fingers. Drache's teeth had ripped some of the animal's skin. Hand trembling, he touched the creature's neck. More hot blood pulsed out onto his fingers.

Blood… He felt warm with pleasure. Carefully he picked up the rabbit, fingers curled close to its throat so he would feel its life ebbing away. He had nothing on his person but Drache provided, fetching a sharp stick. The rabbit remained perfectly docile in his hands up until he stabbed it in the neck. It thrashed but Lezard just dug the stick deeper, twisting and tearing, forcing the animal into eternal silence.

"Forgive me," Lezard murmured, settling the limp body on the ground. "You were dying, and so I eased your suffering. Drache and Sophos?" He turned his attention to his animal companions. "Leave this place quickly." He moved with deliberation, as if he had planned this all along. Holding out his stained palms, he chanted the spell that would summon forth a demon.

"Look! See, I am willing to give blood, if that is what you want! Now give me what I want!" Hands clawed out of the gate, groping blindly toward him. One grabbed the rabbit's body and a howl of triumph rose up in the darkness.

------

Summer slipped away and school was back in session. The familiar form of Lezard Valeth sat behind a stack of books in the library. The library staff had grown used to his presence years ago and by now knew better than to ask why he requested a certain book. He was respectfully left alone to study what he would, however strange the subject matter seemed.

Since coming back to school, Lezard spent all of his free hours in the library. He stopped attending the class on necromancy and hadn't bothered to summon a demon since that night during the summer. A new goal had been presented to him, and he needed his full concentration. His classes were pointless to him and yet he attended them still. His roommate failed to report anything out of the ordinary: there were no wall writings, and Lezard muttering to himself was old news.

"So, little freak, mind telling me what depraved art you're focusing on now?" Mystina asked him. Those were the words she greeted her friend with as he sat down for the afternoon meal. She too had grown more used to his unusual behavior.

"I am still studying necromancy," Lezard responded, "though at the moment I am researching something."

"Researching what?" the girl demanded. Lezard smiled across the table at her in a twisted, mischievous way.

"Have you ever heard of the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Naturally. Who hasn't?" Mystina flipped her hair haughtily. "But honestly, Lezard, I can't believe you're wasting your time with that! People have been trying for ages to find it, and the plain truth is that it doesn't exist!"

"Is that so?" Lezard kept his smile, giving him a superior air of knowing something Mystina did not. The look infuriated his friend. "Come now, Mysty. Just because something is hard to find doesn't mean it is nonexistent. Why, think of the path to Yggdrasil as an example!"

"Yes, I know," Mystina snapped, cutting him off. "Humans can't enter, but the path is there. I see your point, but I still think you're chasing after a fable! If something with that kind of power did in fact exist, I seriously doubt it would be accessible to humans!"

"No? Ah, well. There's no harm in trying." Lezard had a smug, confident look on his face. He obviously couldn't tell Mystina why he was so certain of the Stone's existence, but it was fun to tease her. The girl snorted angrily at him and took a few moments to compose herself.

"Well, Lezard, do tell me when you found it."

"I certainly shall, Mysty," he assured her. "In fact, I promise you will be the very first to know." His smirk remained all throughout the meal and he returned to his books brimming with the confidence that he would soon stumble upon the one leading him to the Stone.

Mystina's skepticism was not without reason. The legends concerning the Stone were varied, and many were unclear on what exactly it was. The most popular claim named it a device in alchemy that could turn base metals into gold. Such ideas held little interest for Lezard; he was drawn to the more obscure claim that the stone was a compression of the world's knowledge. If he could only locate it and hold it in his hands, he would be the possessor of all that knowledge.

Finding the Stone would naturally be the most difficult obstacle to overcome. The books he perused so far gave no hints to its whereabouts or what it would look like. Such a powerful object would probably be protected by barriers and wards if it was somewhere in Midgard. The more logical hiding place would be Asgard or Nifleheim; Lezard could only hope that was not the case or he would never be able to obtain it.

He fruitlessly searched every spare moment for some clue on how to begin searching, but the library failed him. In all the volumes on the subject, not one gave a definite answer. The information was all abstract, theoretical, unhelpful. He had no other choice but to enlist the aid of demons. He had avoided doing so, but they were the ones who started him on this quest, and it seemed only they could push him on the right path.

Lezard's choice to enlist the help of demons could not have come at a worse time. Winternights was quickly approaching and the spirit world was growing in strength. He couldn't control the power he unleashed. All he remembered of the experience was a woman holding onto him to prevent him from falling into the spirit world. His mistake wasn't a total loss, though: the demons still provided him with a lead. He would wait until after Winternights to make his move, though. He needed time to plan all of the details.

------

The teacher's room was neatly kept, a soft patterned rug on the floor and an entire wall devoted to books. Lezard pushed open the door and stepped inside. The teacher rose to his feet and acknowledged the boy's presence with a smile: Lezard was expected. This particular teacher dealt with the "softer" side of magic, such as potions and powders. Lezard shut the door behind him and crossed the room, his familiar perched on his shoulder.

"It's been a while since you've come by, Lezard," the teacher observed pleasantly. "You said you needed a further explanation on Ghoul Powder?"

"No, I believe I understand the basics now," Lezard replied, smiling. "It is a powder than on consumption turns a human's physical state into that of a demon. It is indistinguishable from other types and therefore extremely dangerous if not used properly."

"Sounds like you understand the lesson perfectly, which can only mean you have some other reason for being here." The teacher fixed a thoughtful stare on the young student. Lezard gave a pleasant smile and bowed his head.

"Indeed, I do. I am to understand that you know something about the Philosopher's Stone." The older man's reaction to this was starting. He froze up and his face went pale in fright. Lezard just continued smiling.

"Who told you about that?"

"That is not important," Lezard said, taking another step forward. "What is important is that you have information I want, and you will give it to me."

"Lezard, I don't know what you heard, but the Philosopher's Stone is only a legend… a theory at best!" That would not explain the teacher's frightened eyes, or why he tried distancing himself from Lezard.

"It is very real and you know it," Lezard insisted, his calm voice a striking contrast to the panicking teacher. "Just tell me what you know."

"All you need to know about the Stone can be read in books. I won't tell you any more than that." Lezard's familiar screeched and flapped its wings restlessly; the teacher took another step away from the advancing boy.

"You are determined, then, to stand in my way. I cannot allow that." Lezard's familiar attacked the teacher just as the older man began chanting a spell. "You dare to stand against me? The folly!"

Balls of fire shot out from Lezard's palms, striking the older man's body. The flames engulfed him and he dropped to the ground to try putting it out. Another spell was already being called upon and this time dark shafts pummeled the teacher. To keep the flames from spreading Lezard called on an ice spell. He stood over the body and prodded it with a toe. The burnt and battered body remained motionless.

"Open the gates to Nifleheim," he said. "More souls await."