Enokrad's Tail
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
All rights reserved




                    Enokrad's Tail
                   by L. Shawn Aiken


        Suraci stumbled into his dark loft above the alchemist's shop, a
charred scroll case clenched tightly in his fist.  The fire still burned
in his mind's eye, along with the angry faces of the mob.  His lungs heaved
as he pushed the heavy oak door closed and pulled the iron bolt to.
        At last I'm safe, he thought, clutching the scroll case tightly to
his chest.  He leaned against the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to
the darkness.
        The duel had lasted three days long.  Suraci had watched from his
loft as the two wizards had battled high above the city.  Protocol had been
broken in endangering so many of the people of Alitos like that, but
wizards of great power need not worry about lesser beings.  Near the duel's
end the young mage had seen his chance and acted.
        Suraci could make out the faint outlines of his desk and bookshelf
near the window.  He started towards it.  Pain suddenly shot through his
shin as he ran into a chair.
        "Damn," he muttered under his breath and kicked the chair out of his
way.  He moved forward with his arm outstretched, carefully feeling for the
desk.
        The young mage got to the desk and felt for his lamp.  Its smooth,
bronze casting felt cool to his hand.  He waved his fingers over it and
several archaic words flowed down his tongue and over his lips.
        The wick ignited, casting its golden light over his soot covered face
  Suraci sat the leather scroll case on his desk and looked at it.  Half of
the brown tube was blackened, ending where the cap had been before it had
burned off in the inferno.
        Bits of charred, blackened leather crumbled from it as he carefully
rolled the case over.  On the other side, inscribed on an iron plate, were
the words "The Spell of Enokrad".  Suraci smiled.
        Long before Enokrad had challenged Drolerif for his seat on the
Mage's Guild Council, Suraci had been invited to visit the great sorcerer
at his estate on the other side of town.  The young mage had at first been
flabbergasted by the offer, but then he realized the Enokrad could see his
great potential, where others had not.
        While at the estate, Enokrad had shown him his basement vault full of
ancient and powerful scrolls.  One of them the great sorcerer had written
himself, and Suraci held it now with his dirty fingers.
        Just after midnight on the third day of the battle, a great bolt of
light arced across the sky.  Bits of Enokrad's flaming body hurtled into
the Gaff River and a great cloud of steam billowed forth.  It was over,
with the pompous Drolerif retaining his seat on the council.
        Thoughts had swarmed around in Suraci's mind as he had watched the
human meteor fall from the sky.  With Enokrad gone, intruder defenses at
his estate would be at a minimum and he could purloin the scroll.
        Suraci had arrived just minutes before the mob had.
        They were bent on cleansing Alitos of any reminders of the alleged
necromancer's vile presence.  He had barely got through the door with
scroll in hand when they tried to set him and the house on fire.  The young
mage had run for his life, eventually winding up back in his loft.
        So what does the spell do? he wondered.  It was no use to speculate.
Whatever it was, it must be powerful.  After all, the sorcerer had named it
after himself.
        Suraci grabbed the chair that he had kicked over and sat down at his
desk.  He then carefully slid the scroll out from its case.
        A gasp came from his throat as he saw that the edge of the rolled up
parchment was burnt.  If any of the words on the manuscript had been
destroyed, the spell would be useless.  Did he dare unroll it, only to find
that his efforts had been for naught?  Yes, he grinned wolfishly, it is
indeed worth it.
        Suraci slowly flattened the parchment out on his desk.  Bits of the
left side cracked and crumbled into ash.  He winced as each crack appeared.
        With it opened, he scanned the document.  It was damaged, but none of
the text had been harmed.  The young mage could barely contain his
excitement, his hands shaking as he began to read it.
        The script was in ancient Tuknarian, one of the first things a person
learns as a wizard's apprentice.  That was about all Suraci's teacher had
taught him before the old man had met his demised.  Suraci had desperately
needed wizard's blood for a potion and the old man had been the only
accessible source.  The hieroglyphic script flowed across the page as he
hastily read the introductory paragraph.
        "I, Enokrad, sorcerer without peer, pen this spell to secure my
long-lasting presence in the universe.  This spell before you is indeed
powerful, and will grant the caster a great reward."
        Suraci laughed.  He could feel the power coursing from the words to
him.  Never had he been exposed to such a spell, not even when he had
stolen his master's spell book and read it from front to back.
        Power, true power, was in his grasp.  He clenched his fists and shook
them.  He would show those fools that had thrown him out of the Mage's
Guild, and avenge the only sorcerer that had ever been kind to him.  Then
he would sit at the head of the council.  The young mage laughed again.
        He looked back at the scroll.  The first step of the spell was next.
After wiping his sweaty hands on his thighs and adjusting his position in
his seat, Suraci began to read again, his dark eyes glowing with excitement.
        "For proper casting of the spell, several items you will need.
Gather forth these things: a saucer of the finest porcelain, the silvery
dust of dried Therabin berries gathered at the height of the full moon, the
metal plate attached to the case containing this scroll, and the milk from
a cow not more than three years of age."
        Is that it, he shook his head, only four components?  It was hard to
believe something so powerful could be so simple.
        He rummaged around his cluttered loft.  In the cabinet he found a
good saucer.  On his mystical spice rack was a bottle of the glittering
berry dust.  Suraci had to sneak out to the tavern next door to steal a
bottle of milk left on the back porch.
        When he came back he careful pried the metal plate off of the scroll
case.  On the back were several peculiar inscriptions.  It was obviously
vital to the spell, perhaps even the prime focus for the magical energies
to flow through.  Suraci sat back down and read the next step.
        "The location of the spell is vital,"
        Uh-oh, the young mage thought.  He had not imagined the possibility
that he might need to relocate to cat the spell.
        "It must in an area near a large quantity of magical elixirs . . ."
        Damn.  Where could he find a great quantity of magical elixirs?  Of
course!  The alchemist's shop was right underneath him.  Hundred of potions
and the like were just under his feet.  No problem there.
        " . . . and the area must have a window overlooking the city of
Alitos."
        That was very specific.  He looked out of his window at the roof tops
of Alitos and smiled.  Suraci could think of no better place to cast the
spell than in his own loft.
        "First, open the window and place the saucer on the window sill.
Then fill it with milk.  Draw two circles on the floor with the berry dust,
making sure that there are no gaps.  One circle must be one foot in radius,
the other three feet.  Connect them with a line of half a foot.  As you are
doing so, read out loud the Sequinian Chant of Calling."
        Suraci gulped.  This was a spell of summoning.  But summoning what?
A demon form the deepest depths of darkness?  This spell was indeed
dangerous.  He frowned.  But he power he would control would be
inconceivable.  He smiled and rubbed his hands together.
        With a yank, he removed the dusty rug of virgin's scalps out from in
front of the window.  Suraci had paid a fortune for it.  he threw it
hastily in the corner and opened the window.
        The smoke from Enokrad's burning home hung over the darkened city.
It was a shame.  What had been lost when Enokrad's house had went up in
flames?  The people of the city were barbarians, but they would pay dearly.
        He sat the saucer on the window and filled it with milk.  What did
this part of the spell have to do with anything?  Oh well, sometimes it was
best no to think about the structures of a spell.  Apprentices had gone mad
doing so.
        Suraci found the Sequinian chant in an old, dusty book entitled
"Summoning Safely: How to Call Them Before They Call You."  He took the
vial of silvery dust and sprinkled it on the floor, reading the chant
slowly as he formed the mystical symbols.
        With that done he started towards his desk to finish reading the
scroll, but something stopped him dead in his tracks.  An unearthly
presence filled up the room.  Suraci looked back at the circles.  Nothing
was there.  His gaze slowly shifted to the window.
        Two glowing green eyes stared out at him from the darkness.  His
heart began to pound in his ears.  he tried to move but his body was
paralyzed with fear.
        The two green eyes lowered to the saucer and a lapping sound could be
heard.  What was it?
        After it had finished with the milk, the creature jumped from the
window sill into the room and carefully sat down.  Suraci relaxed.  It was
a black cat with huge green eyes.
        "Shoo!" he said to the cat, "You're messing up the spell!"  The cat
slowly looked around the room.  It sat up, stretched, and walked over to
the young mage.  Then it sat down in front of him and stared coldly into
his eyes.  A strange metal medallion hung from its neck.
        Suraci bent down and looked at the ornament.  It was square and made
of iron.  Inscribed on it was "Dark One."
        He gulped.  This was Enokrad's familiar.  The cat had been there that
day when Enokrad had shown him the scroll.  What did this mean?  He quickly
went over to the scroll and read the next line.
        "Place the cat in the smaller circle,"
        Suraci gulped and turned toward the cat.  It walked over, sat in the
circle, and looked at him impatiently.  He gulped again.  What had he
gotten himself into?  What kind of forces were at work here?  He glanced
back at the scroll.
        "With the iron plate in your left hand, step into the larger circle.
Chant the following phrase repeatedly and await your reward."
        Suraci picked up the iron plate.  It was cold in his hand.  He
studied the incantation, knowing he must do it perfectly or the spell would
backfire.  When he was confident about it, he walked over to the circle and
stepped in.
        Tingling energy filled the air, along with a sense of wrongness.
What was wrong?  Perhaps he should stop.  He hesitated to start the
enchantment and wondered what power would be his.
        "Meow," vocalized the cat sternly.  He looked down at it a nodded.
        The words crept out of his mouth like dusty pages from an archaic
volume.  He coughed, but continued.
        The tingling energy grew around his body.  The words became easier
to say and soon flowed out of his mouth with no effort, in fact, it was
like someone else was saying them.  He could feel the power coursing
through his body and smiled.  Suddenly there was a flash of light and
his view shifted.
        When his eyes came back into focus, Enokrad looked down at his
new body.  It was young and healthy.  His insurance policy had paid off.
        The cat was meowing horribly.  Enokrad poured a saucer of milk and
set it in front of the feline.
        "Here is your reward," Enokrad smiled.  The cat blinked several
times, then began to lap up the milk.

