The Soothsayer

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Chapter 60: The Soothsayer Speaks

The words came to Colin.

“You’re right, demon. We are nothing now. We have no army, no city left, no power . . . I am weak -- nothing compared to you and your master,” Colin said, his voice cracking as he suddenly felt the Maker’s presence wrap around him. Electric chills ran across his skin. “But what you’ve taken was not ours to begin with, and what you offer is not yours to give.”

Dagon took a step back and Colin moved closer to him.

“There is a Maker of all things, who is older than you or the Dark One you serve, who has called each thing into existence, and has given each thing a name . . . even you.”

Dagon stumbled back as Colin opened the scroll and the Logos spread into his mind.

Colin peered into Dagon’s eyes and saw in the sorcerer’s mind an ailing old man, near the turn of the century, take a voyage west, under a different name than the one he was known for.

As Colin searched the sorcerer’s gaze, he envisioned ancient hands barely grasping a ship’s railings as it returned to the California coastline. Once ashore Spanish missionaries were paid to lead the enfeebled man back to the tiny cove he had discovered nearly fifty years earlier. He had fallen into this world once before, when he was much younger, and found himself floating in a sea that was unknown to him. He’d become lost and lured into the service of the Dark Lord, who would give him his freedom, great wealth, and unending life in this new world if he returned when called. The Hissith bite was enough to spurn him back. The old man knew his life was ending on Earth, and so left nothing for his kin save a little wooden box and a map with his initials, R.H.D, on it.

Colin’s mind focused back on the present. “I’m not the only stranger here. You were the first, Dagon. Except it isn’t Dagon is it? You’ve been here so long, been so twisted that you’ve forgotten your name.”

Dagon’s mind cleared and, at that moment, he remembered.

“How many lives have you squelched to lengthen your own?” Colin continued. “How much of your soul did you sell, Dana?”

Dagon shook his head, “No! Stop! You can’t know that!”

“Richard Henry Dana is your true name, remember it. Remember every moment and every betrayal.” Colin’s voice echoed out and Dagon screamed, throwing his hands to his ears as if they were on fire.

“You filthy little swine!” Dagon screamed and threw out his hand at Colin but his power was gone. A powerful force, like a freight train, hit the sorcerer and he buckled to the ground.

Colin watched true terror spread across the sorcerer’s face and for the briefest of moments, Colin thought he saw hundreds of spirits appear around them. Their silent cold stares focused on the man that had betrayed them. Every base act Dagon had committed was engulfing him and his hands shook as he lowered them. His green eyes were human, weary, and red with tears.

One spirit stepped closer to tower over him.

“Aukai?” Dagon’s mouth dropped, with odd recognition.

Colin watched on as Dagon’s face sagged with age within seconds. His hair turned gray, his forehead filled with wrinkles. Now only an ancient and feeble man kneeled there. The great sorcerer Dagon was no more, only Richard Dana remained.

Without a second thought, Colin spoke again, and the logos flowed through his lips.

“Veni, Veni Emmanuel, Captivum solve Israel.”

Dana screeched as Colin’s voice became stronger.

“Liberum corde suo, Privatus de filio. Gaude! Gaude! Emmanuel!”

Dana shook violently as seizures racked his body and the horn dropped to the ground.

Colin continued speaking the Logos. His voice grew stronger in timbre and resonance. From the distant corners of the city and the high wall, the remaining voices of the watchmen joined his until a choir of resonating speech filled the plaza. Dana looked up in terror as a dark mist formed around him.

“No! It’s not my time yet, I can still . . . No, master,” He cried out as his arms bent backward, his shoulders shifted inwards and his neck twisted around.

Egan stood, and ran to the princess’s side. Only Colin kept the sorcerer’s gaze as the abomination of man shifted, inverted, imploded in on himself, and then was gone.

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