They followed the perfumed servant into an austere chamber of white marble shot through with grey-and-black veins that throbbed with a pulsing internal energy. Before them stood a tall, thin man in a black mask. His clothes were a swirl of grey-and-black silks that swathed his body, giving him a ragged and mysterious air about him.
The masked face turned towards Tosh and his large, brooding companion. “Good! You are awake. You will work for me for a while. I need you to—”
Bors let out a roar and charged forward. Tosh almost got swept up, but moved forward, trailing the barbarian enough to not get pulled and dragged. “Bors, stop. Stop. Stop!‘ Tosh shouted.
There was an audible sigh from the cloth-swathed man, who threw up a silk-gloved hand. Bors surged forward and struck some unseen force, which shot him backwards several feet. Tosh swore he heard the masked man mutter, “Always the hard way, with this one.”
Tosh was standing beside the prostrate barbarian, shaking his head as he looked at the masked man. “I told him that—”
“I know, I was there,” the man said with a hint of a smile in his voice, flicking his hand, and the servant disappeared into a puff of smoke. “I am The Master.” His voice filled the chamber and gave a small bow. “I have need of the two of you for a minor job.” There was a titter from behind the mask and Tosh felt his stomach drop. No one that ever laughed like that ever made a straight deal. The disappearance of the servant spoke to the technology The Master had at his beck and call. Tosh had never seen it’s like before, and he was sure Bors had never seen it either. Have to be careful.
“Your father was quite right to teach you that, Tosh,” The Master said. “However, I have arranged things so that you must accept, or you and the barbarian put to death.” Again, the titter of laugher after the cloth-covered man spoke caused an itch between Tosh’s shoulder blades.
“Why should we work for you?” Bors asked, sitting up and grunting from the pain. He pushed himself to a squat. “Why work for some vile warlock?”
“Bors, I don’t think you understand,” Tosh said.
“I understand, Little Bird,” Bors shouted. “I want him to answer the question.” Bors thrust a thick finger towards the masked man.
The mask turned to regard Bors for the first time since the barbarian had entered. Tosh saw the eyes of the person behind the mask for the first time. It filled him with dread. No human eyes looked back at him, instead brilliant fluorescent green shone through the two holes of the ebon mask. Tosh knew of no such creature that had eyes like that. At least no living creature he knew of, which was also frightening considering his tutelage and education.
“I can offer you something that your tribe has sought for some time,” The Master said. “And it was the reason for your own quest as well. Unless I’m mistaken?”
Bors’ eyes narrowed, teeth grating loud enough for Tosh to hear the noise. “You know not—”
“I do, and I have it right here.” From the interior of the voluminous silks the Master had draped upon himself, he pulled out a long, slender redwood box. He released it with a slight push towards Bors. Tosh had seen hovering discs used for such a feat, but had never seen a simple box tossed away and moved towards another like this box did. It went straight towards Bors. There was a sudden smell of pine and sandalwood as the box moved past Tosh. It settled to the ground at Bors’ feet. The top half opened by itself on a hinge on one side, revealing its contents.
“Do I know what I speak of now, Bors of the Northern Hills?” The smile in the voice was impossible to miss.
Tosh saw a black and pitted iron longsword, ancient. He thought he saw what had to be rust and grime clinging to the fuller of the blade in thick clumps of corrosion. The hilt was a dirty mass of leather that looked unclean and foul. The pommel itself was a pale, ghostly-white orb that made Tosh feel uneasy. “Surely, this is—”
A hard look from the barbarian silenced Tosh. Bors knelt before the box, mumbling, “By Von and Hyl…” The rest changed into some garbled antiquated dialect of Martian that Tosh had never heard. The barbarian reached forward with quivering fingers, dipping into the box and pulling the sword out and holding it like it was the last relic of his homeland. The look on Bors’ brows knit as though afraid it would leap into the air and strike at him like a serpent.
Tosh stood, shocked at the barbarian’s reaction. How can a sword scare him, of all people?
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Bors took up the sword with more reverence than Tosh thought possible for a barbarian of the Northern Hills. Bors eyes roved over the black-pitted metal with a combination of fear and elation before looking at The Master. “You—”
The masked man held up a single finger of his right gloved hand. “I ask only for a single boon, and it is yours.”
Bors’ shoulders drooped for a moment before he took a knee, bowed his head, the sword held out before him. “You honor me. The Soul of the Mother must be protected. As her bearer, I will do your job as your boon.”
“Excellent,” the masked man said, his body vibrating with joy. “And for you, Tosh?”
The question hung for a moment in Tosh’s ears. A single heartbeat pulsed in his chest before he realized what the man’s power could give him. Taking in what was before him with Bors and this ancient sword that was beyond precious to the barbarian. I thought, I thought these creatures were a myth? “You…you’re—”
“The Master,” the masked man said with a deeper bow. A small titter of laughter behind the mask caused a sliver of ice to slide its way down Tosh’s spine.
“No. You’re The Grifter. The one who dangles a tantalizing prize before some fool, only to demand some insane quest of impossibility. There is some hidden price, Bors. You mustn’t take the sword.”
A light laugh broke out from the Master. “No,” he said, taking a long deep sigh before continuing. “I always choose poorly, at least the last two hundred years or so. And, as you can see, I’ve given the gift to your compatriot. I can do the same for you.”
“What?” Tosh shouted, not even realizing he had taken a step forward, and refusing to back down. He felt his body shiver with anger. “What could you possibly give—”
“I can make sure that your family takes you back. If that is what you truly want.” The unspoken question in the word “if” set Tosh’s teeth on edge.
“Of course it is,” Tosh said. No, there is no way you could… He stopped himself. After everything he had seen with The Master, could alter a bit of DNA truly be that out of reach for this creature? “I wish to ask for my boon after this mission.”
“Very well,” The Master said, giving Tosh a curt bow. “For your task, I need you to find the Eye of Saturnalia.”
Tosh laughed. “It’s a myth.”
“I assure you, it is quite real.” The voice had a bit more steel in it than before. The man moved closer, his fluorescent eyes pinning Tosh. “Very, very real.”
“There is no such—”
There was a thunderous din. “It is real!” The Master’s veiled body enlarged, growing bigger and bigger until he stood ten, fifteen, then twenty feet tall over the pair. He shouted, loud enough to buckle Bors and Tosh’s knees before driving them to the ground while slapping their hands over their ears to protect their eardrums from the sudden thundering voice. Bors’ sword fell to the side, forgotten in the moment of the aural attack.
Tosh looked up, his voice trembling while asking, “How are we going to find—”
“The Drumgag knows where it is,” The Master said with a warm smile in his voice, standing beside Tosh and Bors, his form back to his more human size in the blink of an eye.
“How?”
“You could always try to talk to… it.“ The masked man raised his hands, and Tosh found himself being picked up by an unseen force and deposited on his feet.
“That is insanity,” Tosh said, looking at Bors, then The Master, and back. “Why us? We’ve never—”
“I command power undreamed of, possess knowledge unattainable or matched. Don’t question me on this,” the hint of steel was back in The Master’s voice. “You—”
“Then, get the Eye yourself,” Tosh said.
There was a momentary pause from The Master. “I’m—I’m sorry?”
“You are all powerful, you said. Get the mythological Eye of Saturnalia yourself.”
There was a slight titter from the masked man. “Were it that easy, mortal, I would. But, it is beyond even my—”
“As I thought,” Tosh said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am done with this maliciousness. I will never—”
“Then you and your barbarian will die here and now.” The Master raised a hand, a dull, wan green glow coming from his hand, levelling it at Tosh and Bors. “I will disrupt your very molecules and scatter them across time and space.” The bite of steel in his voice was back.
Bors growled, his fists clenching into fists. “Little Bird does not possess me, warlock!” Bors took up the sword, lifting it over his head and surging forward. “You will—”
The Master gave a gesture towards Bors, and he was silenced. Tosh turned to see that the barbarian’s lips had vanished. He shook his head. “Bors, you …” He turned towards The Master. “You are cruel.”
“Very. But I am a creature of my word. Find it, and I will grant your unspoken boon. And the barbarian continues to be the bearer of her.“
Tosh looked at the barbarian. Bors held the sword in one hand while touching his face with the other, trying to make some kind of noise. A vague moan came from where the mouth should have been. Bors looked at Tosh, and Tosh saw fear, genuine fear, for the first time since Tosh had met Bors. I could leave him here, yet what would become of my soul? Tosh knew when beaten, and his stance withered. He didn’t particularly like the giant Martian, but he couldn’t abide the cruelty of The Master on another living soul. With a sigh, Tosh nodded. “I will do as you say. Release him.”
“That was easy,” The Master said with a chuckle. He snapped his fingers, and Bors let out a bellow, his lips back as if never gone. The barbarian glared at The Master. Tosh saw the want and desire to attack the masked man, yet trepidation to do so warred within the giant man.
“I can see I was right in bringing you two together. The charts never lie.” The Master let out a self-satisfied sigh, and Tosh could practically see the giant smile on the man’s hidden face.
There was a flash of indigo, blinding Tosh.