(And: the Necromancy Seer)1784 AD
Today I felt it was about time I told this little story, for it is the 6th day of the 6th month, of 2006, a most commanding day for this story (666).
[Babenhausen, West Germany, 1784 AD The magicians power was not powerful enough to keep hold of the demon, he had incarcerated him into a vortex, by way of a spell; he was likened to a mass of wind frozen in time in his incanting room, his private study where he did his rituals and all such things. He had learned his art from none other than the infamous, yet renowned Azazel, one of the Angelic Renegades of Antiquity. He had taught incantations to certain individuals throughout the ages, and to certain women how to beautify their body; before the great flood he had even taught the art of astronomy and weaponry. His pupils were far and in-between, but were well learned, and the old seer was too old, perhaps a hundred and some, in consequence, his powers had lessoned, to his disma y; and he had underestimated Bolits recoil, once they had become weaker.
It had been several years he held Bolits in check, in his whirlpool of summoning winds; it was now the third day of the moon, and the earths currents were strong, and his powers innately were weak, and Boltis took advantage of this, he swam out of his spelllful cocoon, his hex of binding currents holding him.
Foulness now filled the air, and the old seer looked about, saw the demon staring at him: unbound by his impeding spell: saw him walking about, pacing, like a lion, talking to himself, pacing back and forth, to and fro, from the windows to his chair and table, where the old seer kept a bowl of water on the floor, where he could see visions coming in, and he saw his own death coming, mounting, and thus, he jumped out of the chair, and walking backwards quickly, he bumped into the ironed framed locked door.
Me, Boltis the Demon said, me! He moved backwards as if he was thinking, pa cing, making gestures to himself; next the old seer started to moan, bring forth incantations, and magic was filling the air, you could feel its pulse, and the demon saw this, felt this, heard the old man, and panicked, it was not to his liking, he did not want to be pushed back into the vortex again. Hence, he devoured him like a mad dog, like a wolf, like a vulture, and all that was left were his bones, and he sucked the marrow out of those, and put the remains in the hearth nearby, burned them to ashes: thinking no one would be the wiser, especially his kind. Then like a madman, he danced in a circle, yelling aloud of his victory.
Agaliarept
The hounds of hell, the demons, heard of this, and Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell, commander of a legion, thereofa lieutenant to Satan Himselfwas not happy in the least to be given the news: he was very displeased at what had taken place; for it was by his orders the seer had bound Boltis, the mischievous demon.
Y ou are condemned!!! Yelled Agaliarept; he yelled it so loud; the whole invisible demonic world heard the echo. It was that the seer was also a high priest of the Moon Occult, He had done all the bidding for Agaliarept (on earth) and had been groomed and weaned (and had detached himself from the physical world to the demonic cause) for nearly a whole century, and now he had no predecessor, no equal, no student to take his place.
Again, Boltis started pacing the wooden floor of this large room, books and candles and aromatic plants lying about, his mouth muffling something, quiet undecipherable speech, and obscenities spurting out, every which way, out of his mouth.
You have created chaos for us again, Boltis! came an echo from below, an echo only His kind could hear, save, there were those humans, few, with magical powers to hear, but very few.
What have you done with our evil necromancy sear? Asked Agaliarept.
Boltis said not a word, and continued pa cing like a wild boar, Hells icy vaults are waiting for you. Came the second message via silent, and invisible airwaves.
Now Boltis was hitting his head, moving like an ape in this room of necromancy, and soon found himself walking a corridor that lead to a tower. He wanted to escape, but how, he was in an old tower in Babenhausen, one that was built around 1714 AD, and it was attached to a fortress like structure. He had gone now from the room to the tower. And there were eyes here and there, looking at him, eyes of his own kind.
But I was locked up for seven years, and the old seer was going to box me up again, what could I do? He questions the Henchman, Agaliarept. True were his words, but Agaliarept knew his kind lied, it was part of their make up, and mercy was not; thus, the eyes paralyzed the infinite desperate demon, and he was brought to the halls of hell, where he was placed, stagnate, in a dungeon cell of ice.
Here, said Agaliarept, you shall r emain until the end of days, until dooms day for earth, for you are more than a nuisance, you are a melting pot of fathomless trouble. And this is where he stayed until 1946, you must read the Afterward to find out where then, he went.
Afterward [1974: It was a number of years later that the demon got lose again, from the frozen vaults of hell, and escaped back to Babenhausen, and was found walking the floors of an old WWII, barracks, where I was stationed on a Military Base, and went to school during the night hours, and heard those very foot steps, his doom walk: his pacing back and forth, and so the legend goes shortly after the war: WWII, a woman was tossed out the window: some say by her lover, who caught her with another man (or was it a man?) others say, they never saw the beast that threw her out the window, but it made the newspapers (which is presently in the archives, periodicals of Babenhausen). This writer was there in 1974 and can testify to most of th is story being told and retold as fact, it is just that no one hasup to this writingput it all together: but now it is. He was, the demon that is, was to remain in that old building, until the end of days (or dooms day I suppose), and should he decide to go again (elsewhere), Agaliarept, the Henchman of hell, will be required to send out his horde of seekers to imprison him again, into the cold vaults of Hell, by command of Azazel, none other.
Note: Inspired by CAS/ and the authors time spent while in West Germany, 1974; and a story he heard one evening after classes, after attending a college course, on base, and listening day after day, year after year the sounds coming from the 4th floor of the building, and after checking it out, no one being there, and then asking other residents nearby, and the security guards, and folks in the township what took place in 1946 (a murder); thus, came rise to this story: The Incarcerated Demon. 6/6/2006; written during lunch at th e EP Caf, in Miraflores, Lima Peru; in particular, the Advance.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Short Story
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