and some of such a malignancy as to be recognisable as the daemons and devils of legend and myth. As his confidence increased he used cantraps and invocations to summon their inhabitants to appear before him and questioned them at length, learning new insights which strengthened his occult powers. A few of these entities were amicable, as curious about Khandive's world as he was about theirs and he spent long hours exchanging knowledge with them. Others were inimical, straining to break the bonds which held them in check and thirsting to wreak malign havoc. Time and time again Khandive found it necessary to increase the power of the barrier which held them at bay, for as knowledge of this puncture in the fabric of reality became known amongst them stronger and stronger beings came to test his defences. Khandive struggled between the overwhelming desire to explore these strange dimensions and his fear of being unable to contain the forces which he sensed he was unleashing.
In the end the decision was made for him. He had reached a previously unknown depth of reality, a seemingly endless ochre barren plain under a black sky in which amorphous shapes writhed in seeming menace. Without his bidding one such swooped towards him and began to extrude itself through the portal. With a tremendous exertion of will power Khandive managed to halt its invasion and bade it return whence it came. Momentarily rebuffed the intruder extruded pseudopodia with which it probed at the barrier holding it in check and Khandive found himself subjected to an assault on his senses which he parried only with the greatest difficulty. The entity battered him with its thoughts. "Puny insect," it screamed, "am I not Sschlm, Overbeing of the Vehm? Release me before I render your miserable flesh into a pile of stinking offal." Khandive sensed a weakening of the magical forces restraining it and directed all his occult powers in building these into an impenetrable barricade while Sschlm tore and tugged at his brain. With a supreme effort Khandive poured all his arcane knowledge into the barrier, feeling his reservoir of spells draining into its fabric as its powers increased and the raging torrent of attack from the demon became blunted and attenuated to the merest whisper. He stared aghast as the creature writhed and clawed at the magical bubble around it, realising that there was no means by which he could drive it back to whence it had come, the only consolation being that he believed it could not break free from its prison. He had no recollection of the time it had taken to defeat Sschlm's onslaught. In the struggle the very fabric of time and space seemed to have been torn and twisted. Wearily he made his way out of the Tower and used his remaining occult powers to weave spells into its structure sufficient to repel any attempt to by others to gain an entrance. This done he began to take in his surroundings. At first he could make no sense of what lay before him. The once proud city of Quadesh was no more. Around him were empty streets, the buildings showing every sign of abandonment, windows and doors gaping open and here and there piles of abandoned good were evidence of a general exodus. Unable to grasp what had occurred, his mind dazed by what he saw Khandive stumbled down the avenue towards what had been his palace. As he entered the imperial plaza he stopped, as though struck. The palace, seat of power of the Voivodes of Quadesh was no more. Only a charred ruin remained. On the verge of collapse he sat down on the shattered plinth of one of the guardian statues which had once gazed out across the square and buried his head in his hands. As he struggled to come to terms with events he was disturbed by the sound of voices and rising to his feet he saw in the distance two figures making their way across the deserted avenue. Khandive waved his arms wildly and staggered towards them. As he reached them they were revealed as an old man and a younger companion who raised a cudgel in threat.
"Be off," he cried. "We mean no harm; we only seek for some supplies before we leave."
"What has happened here?" Khandive asked in anguish." "Where are all the people, what has happened to the city?"
The two exchanged a baffled look. "You must be a stranger indeed to ask such a question," the oldster replied. "This is how it's been for as long as I can remember. I lived here many, many years ago and left with my parents and everyone else. My grandson here has always pestered me to see the city, despite its evil reputation, and I too felt a desire to see it once again while I still had life within me and so we made the long trek from our village. Now we have had our fill of sight-seeing and are setting back for home."
"But what happened?" Khandive persisted. Why did everyone leave?"
The old man shrugged. "I only know the tale that my father told me. That the city was ruled by a great magician who lived in yonder Tower. The effluvium from his intercourse with demons and unnatural beings seeped throughout Quadesh, poisoning the fields and tainting the minds of some of the people to the extent that they concocted abhorrent cults and nurtured plans to enslave the rest. A bloody civil war erupted and the survivors fled, unable to remain in such an accursed spot. To what extent this might be true or the embroidered account of some simpler strife I cannot say but it is strange that the Tower which seemingly was the centre of all the trouble remains unscathed after all these years."
The enormity of what he had done almost unhinged Khandive. Struck dumb, he made little response as the two made their farewells and left him to consider what his future might be.
By now the sun had set and the room was in darkness. Khal rose from the table and lit the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
"That is the story as it is told, of the doom that the quest for knowledge brought to Quadesh. Of its truth you must decide for yourself, but your experiences this morning may well give you some indication as to how the matter lies," he told Zozimos. The time is now late and I shall retire. What action you might take is now entirely a matter for yourself."
For a while Zozimos stared into space, then extinguishing the lights he lay down on his couch and fell asleep.
In the morning after breakfast, at which the conversation was no more than desultory, Zozimos set out on the long road back, a little wiser and a little less foolhardy than before.
The hermit, who was of course Khandive, once known as the Mighty watched him until he had dwindled to a small dot on the horizon and was lost in the heat shimmer then sat staring across the sand at Quadesh, reflecting on what had been and what might have been.
In the Tower Sschlm stirred restlessly, waiting, waiting, knowing that with the passing of the ages even the mightiest of spells weakened and faded and a whole world would be his for the taking.
...ooo000ooo...
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