Now, the pass was filled with a thousand bonfires. The fires were those of Goblinoids, returned to their ancestral territory, returned for a terrible purpose. They stood in the shadow of the massive citadel on the mountaintop, a citadel that looked down on them with dark vision and inspired fear in them. Not because of the old fortress of grim stone, but of those who were within.
It was known as Castle Keening, but now the keening was rumored to be from the agonized screams of the many who had met their end within its walls. It was a major stronghold of the ki'zadun, a powerful network of mages, priests, spies, and dark entities whose main objective was nothing short of world domination. It was an organization that sought only to increase its own power, in any way possible. They had agents and operatives in nearly every major kingdom or duchy, and their fingers were spread across the world. Be it economical, political, or even militaristic, very little happened that the ki'zadun did not know about, or have a hand in. From the plains of Valkar to the streets of Wikuna, from Dusgaard to Pyrosia, from Suld to Shu Tung, the ki'zadun poisoned the entire world with their dark purpose.
Their nearest neighbors, Draconia and Daltochan, knew about Castle Keening, knew about who inhabited it, but that was of no importance. The ki'zadun now controlled both kingdoms, and it was their hand that guided the war with Sulasia, a war that was progressing on schedule. They had crippled Sulasia, and now their Draconian operatives had managed to incite war between Tykarthia and Ungardt, eliminating the greatest threats to them. Now they could amass their true armies without fear of retaliation, without fear of a pre-emptive assault. The dangerous Ungardt were now slaughtering Tykarthians, and the efficient armies of Sulasia were pinned back by the ears, trying to stop an invasion of Daltochan's armies and their Goblinoid allies. And what was most important, the Sorcerers of the katzh-dashi were sitting in Suld, unwilling to aid the Sulasian armies until Suld itself became threatened. The Dal threat kept them there, kept their members from travelling and seeking out the truth of the invasion, and their Goddess refused to grant them divine knowledge.
They would not understand until it was too late.
Kravon stood at the balcony of Castle Keening, staring down at the fires below, finding himself very pleased by the progression of events. Despite their setbacks with the Were-cat, everything else was moving smoothly. But, any good plan was bound to have a snag or two during its execution. So on the whole, he was content with the performance of his sycophants. He pulled his old cloak about him a bit as the wind took a raw quality, as the beginnings of winter had begun to show in the air. Winter came early in the high mountains, and it lingered long after the lower elevations had spring blossoms budding in the fields.
Yes, everything was running smoothly, except for one little snag.
He felt an oppressive weight behind his eyes, and then something that could only be described as ultimate cold settled into his soul. This is not the time to dawdle, minion, a disembodied voice drifted into the dark tunnels of Kravon's mind. You have not carried out my instructions.
"They will be done this night, my Master," Kravon replied aloud, replied in a very respectful tone. "Everything we require for your plan is now available to us. We will lay the enchantment as soon as the sun fades."
This must be done correctly, the voice said in a stern manner. Too much rides on this. The Were-cat has unlocked his true power, and for now, he is vulnerable.
"Pardon my ignorance, Master, but why is he vulnerable?"
He has lost his connection to his power, the voice responded. He must find it again before he can use his magic. Until he does, he is vulnerable. And it is in this window of opportunity that you must strike. Without his magic, he cannot defeat Jegojah.
"The desert Goddess may interfere. Do you wish us to send additional forces to ensure it doesn't happen?"
She will not. The Were-cat has not earned her respect, and until then, she will not protect him. Send only what I have commanded you to send.
"I understand, my Master. It will be done as you command."
Do not fail me in this, Kravon. And do not waste valuable assets in the future. Releasing Jula was a mistake. She is now in the hands of our enemy, and she can hurt us.
"I'm aware of that, my Master. I have already sent people to rectify the situation. Let me say in my own defense that it was a good plan at the time. None of us foresaw that the Were-cat could cure Jula of her madness. We all thought it impossible."
You are dealing with the Mi'Shara. You must expect the impossible. Do not bungle again. I can replace you as easily as you replace your minions. Do not forget that.
"I never forget that, my Master," he said in a low voice. "The sun is now set. I will see to your instructions immediately. Do you require anything else of me?"
Not now. Perform your tasks as I have given them.
"At once, my Master."
And with that, the tenuous connection dissolved, leaving Kravon chilled to his soul. Telepathic communion with the Master always left Kravon shaken and pale, and he leaned on the bannister of the balcony for support until warmth and energy returned to his limbs. The Master had given him a task to perform, a plan to carry out, and Kravon could appreciate the subtle effectiveness of this plan. If the Were-cat had no connection to his Sorcery, then he was indeed vulnerable. Very vulnerable. His triumphs over Jegojah came because of his magical powers. Without those powers, he would stand no chance against the Doomwalker.
A good plan. The Master never failed to impress him. It was why he followed the Master.
Feeling strength return to his body, Kravon pushed himself off the balcony, then turned and marched back into his laboratory without a glance behind. His magical assistants and minions were working diligently on his behalf, preparing the compounds and charms that would be needed for the conjuration that would take place that night. The Conjuring Circle had seen much activity lately, since the discovery of ancient spells that allowed the control of conjured Demons and other denizens of the Lower World. Those spells had proven to be potent, and now Castle Keening was guarded and protected by Demonic forces, forces loyal to Kravon and his Master. The messy examples they could set had inspired renewed loyalty and devotion to duty in the castle's occupants. The Demons had been instructed as to who was expendable and who was not, so their continued occasional reminders would keep his people properly motivated. One of them stood by the door, a huge vulture-like Demon called a Vrock, and another, a six-armed female with the lower body of a huge snake called a Marilith, was rifling through the library of magical spells in the library. The Marilith was exceptionally intelligent, and she was willing to share her intellect with Kravon and his master Wizards. She felt herself to be far above the humans she was tutoring, but her obedience to the Master kept her on her task.
The vast knowledge of a Marilith at Kravon's command. The might of the Demons to serve as the sword that would cleave the world in two, and make it the eternal domain of the Master. He felt confident that the whole world would soon be bowing before the katzh-dashi.
"The sun is set. It is time to begin the spell," Kravon announced in his dead voice, causing all activity in the laboratory to cease. "Are we prepared?"
"We have but one more component to prepare, but it will be done within the moment, great Master," one of his master Wizards replied. "It will be ready before we will begin."
"Excellent. Then let us go to the Conjuration Chamber and prepare."
This was a spell they had performed several times before, more than necessary, to be honest. The soul-trap that held Jegojah's spirit was ready, sitting on his desk, and a semi-conscious vessel that would serve as the Doomwalker's undead force was chained to the wall on the far side of the laboratory. Both were retrieved, and the Wizards formed a grim procession as they undertook the mental preparations for casting such a difficult spell. The Marilith tagged along at the end of the procession in curiosity, her sharp features showing her interest at seeing some human-magic.