The Masked One led his apprentice down the gloaming halls, where the meeting with the Undergod was to take place.
"May I ask you a question, my lord?" Athar began. "It would seem you already have, but yes," the Masked One retorted. "How is it that you first came into contact with the Undergod?" the young man asked skittishly. "As you will come to know over time, Athar, there are many things that happen to us that may drive us to some… extreme measures," the mage began.
"Some men choose easier paths, by simply making a deal with him or fate itself. Others, not unlike myself, choose to try and work together with him to achieve a greater goal. He is very impatient, capricious, and unforgiving, so you must mind your manners," he continued.
"You didn't answer my question, master," Athar said shyly after a moment's pause. "And you noticed, like anyone with half a brain would, might I add. Perhaps you're not an absolute waste of a core," the Masked One replied. "I will not answer that question for one of two reasons: the first is that it is sensitive information I am not about to disclose. The second is simply because I don't want to, so shut your trap, and follow me without saying a word until we reach our meeting point. Do you understand?" he asked with evident irritation.
Athar felt a chill go down his spine.
Shit. I can't do anything or say anything without the cheese falling off his bread. I knew I should have paid more attention to those books that kind merchant always tried to make me read, Athar sighed.
"Yes, my lord," he tried to hide the sigh he wanted to let out so badly. They continued walking down the dimly lit halls, passing countless other staircases that led to, as of yet, unknown places for the young man.
They finally reached the doorway to his private study, where he unlocked and swung the door open with a wisp of mana. Athar's eyes opened with genuine surprise as he crossed the threshold and began committing the details to memory.
A large octagon of salt is in the center of the floor, candles are on every point, a large crystal is in the very center of the drawing itself, and a desk is at its base. It looks like another summoning circle, but this time it's more complex, Athar thought as he tried to understand its purpose.
"And you would be right," the Masked One said, answering his thoughts. "How the…?" Athar said, astonished. The Masked One, uncharacteristically, chuckled. "I have always been able to read your thoughts, even the ones never meant for me," he said, interrupting what Athar was about to say, making his stomach drop.
"Oh, come now. Did you really think I would take you in without being able to keep tabs on what goes through that puny mind of yours?" he asked over his shoulder. "There has never been anything you've been able to hide from me, Athar. I brought you here because I know who you are," he said.
Athar stood in silence, while his head hung low.
The mage stopped himself from grabbing an item off a nearby shelf and sighed, then turned to face his slave. "Don't worry; there's a reason I'm telling you this, after all," he said, prompting Athar to look back up in surprise. "If you think I'm horrible for doing so, the Undergod can and will do much worse to you if you offend him in any way," he shrugged slightly.
"I see, my lord," Athar frowned, feeling his stomach drop. "Good. Then you'll do well to keep quiet, and your thoughts to yourself," the mage turned back around.
How the hell am I supposed to do that if you're reading them all the time? Athar raised an eyebrow silently, making his master halt.
"Do yourself a favor: stop doing that, and you'll be fine," the mage sighed before gathering mana. A violet orb began to swirl into his palm, growing exponentially as the dark tendrils began to gather. "I request an audience," he said firmly, slamming his hand into an apex of the octagonal ring.
The runes on the ground glowed brightly with violet light as the rings of salt began to rotate and fit together, locking into place before giving off one final burst of light.
The entire room began to shake with a ferocity Athar had never felt before, and he was genuinely concerned that everything would start to crash and fall. There was a voluminous puff of smoke from where the crystal once was, and a mixture of horrid smells like rotting flesh and sulfur filled the air. Athar could barely breathe, whereas the Masked One was accustomed to such smells.
A disgruntled voice like thunder rolled out through the smoke and across the room, shaking all the books on the nearby shelves off their supports. "Why do you disturb me, mage?" the Undergod asked, his voice rolled like thunder within the study as a projection of his form began to rise from the ground.
His lengthy horns nearly scraped the ceiling, talons grew down nearly past his knees, and his overall figure was one of a mountain of rotting, twitching flesh. The skinless figure loomed over them like a troll to ants, gazing down upon these inferior beings. His eyes burned bright with violet fire, as flame-like tendrils that danced around him licked the base of his horns.
So that's the Undergod. I had no idea this is what he looked like, but it's like nothing I've ever seen, Athar gulped dryly, hoping his thoughts hadn't been heard.
Before the Masked One could answer his master's question, Volzuk's gaze pierced Athar's core. The long, fleshy tentacle-like goatee hung heavily from his chin, swaying with the movements of his head. "Who are you to judge my appearance?" he asked Athar, who could have been easily confused for a marble statue.
"My lord, please forgive my servant's ineptitude to keep his thoughts to himself. He hasn't been trained to do so yet, though I will correct that shortly," the Masked One stepped in front of Athar, glancing at him from over his shoulder. "You should have thought of that before bringing him here," Volzuk rumbled.
"My apologies, my lord, I'm sure he meant no offense," the mage bowed slightly, glancing at Athar from the corner of his eye. "I will allow it this time, but know there will not be a second. Now, why did you disturb me, mage?" the Undergod asked after weighing his servant's words.
"I have news from Coltend, Lord Volzuk," the Masked One replied. "What news?" Volzuk grunted, giving the mage a scrutinizing look. "The Kings of this realm have gathered and held a council that aims to summon volunteers to close the portals from your Realm into ours," the mage replied.
"Then they're just as foolish as ever. They have no idea what they're doing, and yet they believe they can stop me?" Volzuk scoffed. "Agreed, my lord, but with the elves getting involved…" the mage cut off as Volzuk leaned in. "I do not care about the elves, or anyone else in your Realm, mage. I have left the handling of the others to you for that purpose," he growled.
"Yes, and I'm to overthrow the ruling powers here to help prepare for your arrival by using the outcast Synners and the creatures you've brought here. I know that, my lord, but the elves have recently grown much more powerful," the mage raised his hands placatingly. "So far, everything has gone according to your plan, but I can foresee an issue with them not being as weak as you once thought," he continued.
"Mind your tone, mage. I know what you're trying to say, and if you think that will be enough to stop me, then you are sorely mistaken. Have I not already shown and given you powers far beyond their comprehension?" Volzuk asked with visible annoyance. "You have, my lord," the mage relented. "Then why are you concerning yourself with those pointy-eared weaklings?" the Undergod asked bluntly.