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Tyresias
It has been a good trade, a trade only possible for the scrupulous honor of the great giant, for his word once given is sure. He shudders a moment at the recollection of what his sightlessness has seen of the relentless mettle of the giant he names for these remaining moments his master. Soon, however, he will be free to find his way to the Kingdom of Yellow. His smile is a frightful thing as he speaks, “You recognize this stone, yes? And this smaller stone I hold in my palm which is its key? Great is its power for it was made to slay Terrakis himself should he venture upward from the nightmarish deeps he claimed as his own. Once it was yours and victory lay in your hands.” He laughs.
“Originating purpose, of course, might always be undone.”
Turning to the book he intones a chant of blasphemous character, uttering syllables that have no right to be sounded within anything other than the most monstrous of throats. The air about the stone takes on a yellowish cast. His hands, however, seem to grow yellow from within and as he chants he suddenly reaches forward to grip the sorceress by the hand. His touch is like that of the things that crawl in lightless and neglected cellars. It is a touch that penetrates deep within her and her magical energy is siphoned, not merely the strength to cast spells, but their implanted memory as well. One by one they are stripped from her as her so carefully constructed life is torn away with ruthless indifference. The giant has released her throat, but it matters little for the grip of gnome cannot be broken until she is no longer the mighty sorceress but a woman weak and alone with no hidden recourse to anything magical in character.
Bright is the yellow upon the hands of the gnome and with a violent motion he brings them together crushing the small stone which is the key to the greater. The great stone shudders within the yellow embrace that enfolds it and its energy discharges violently, but the violence is muted and absorbed in the yellow. The stone crumbles to dust and the yellow dissipates. The weapon is destroyed and the woman is a sorceress no more.
Terrakis steps forward. “You have done well, gnome. As agreed the book is yours along with your freedom. Go now and be swift for should we meet again the death you have avoided here shall claim you at my hand.”
Closing the book, the gnome places his hands upon it and whispers. Shifting tones of yellow enfold him and then he and the book are gone.
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