It was well into the night when the shaman returned to the room with the bound creature. Janderius had finished weaving his spells for the day some hours ago and had probably seen himself home for the evening, the draenei figured. It was a small envy to have the luxury of such travel, but Mosur had neither a talent for nor an interest in the arcane.
Brilliant yellow eyes began searching the room the moment Mosur clicked the door closed. He stood still by the door and watched the demon struggle at its now numerous bonds. It wasn’t until the shackled demon stilled that Mosur looked away from him to see if the mage had made any alterations to the room.
“I heard you come in. I can smell you, draenei.”
The shaman’s attention returned to the pacified demon, whose calm tone was considerably unnerving. He’d resolved not to speak to the creature; there was no benefit in it. Mosur knew little about specific demons and what little he recalled about this particular breed pertained to their cruelty, brutality, and that despite all these traits they were often servants to a higher tier.
“Are you afraid?”
Once again the demon’s words broke through the silence of the evening, prompting the shaman to get to work. Watching the floor where he stepped and taking care to avoid any of the materials placed by Janderius, Mosur made his way to the back of the room to sit just out of the demons reach, just above his head. He’d set initial bindings and called on favors from the children of the Stonemother. He figured that out of all the elemental lords right now, she owed the Ring and its members a great deal and the bargain he’d made with the Slate toned elemental had been smooth. There were other factors of course, the earth was enveloping and offered protection, providing a large array of options to assist in binding. For now it was just Byre and a few shardlings.
Mosur shifted and laid another line of crushed incense and seeds. The line of unburnt offerings settled over the blackened trail from the previous summoning, the charred remnants having come from necessary prior preparation . There was nothing in this world–or any other–that was free, and to think so would be folly.
The demon had rolled his head back, his amber eyes watching the silent draenei, studying him.
Small elementals, invisible to most, circled the area and clambered over the demon’s bound form. There was no sense in removing the spikes that originally pinned the demon to the floor, but the shaman thought both that a secondary measure was needed and that the initial favor with the elementals needed revision. Mosur lit the line of coarse powdered incense and breathed in deep to calm and prepare himself. The scent that rose in the air and started to fill the room was reminiscent of a damp forest, the seeds added a smoked whiff to the smell when they were burned.
“Shale Warden Byre, I call once more seeking your aid on the mortal plane.” The language of the earth was a deep rumble with hard drawls. There were no immediate summons, but the shaman waited patiently, his hands placed on either knee now. His attention dropped from the demon momentarily, sure that the current bindings would hold fine. He missed the demons narrowed gaze and continued scrutiny.
Byre came a few moments later, the earth moving on its own time. “Byre, thank you for offering assistance on such short notice this past evening. I would like to speak in terms of an agreement, to make this official. I do not have a length of time at current that I require you for, but I would like to request you or yours strengthen the bindings and keep this demon trapped until its fate is decided. My offer is the same as our last contract.”
The dark shale elemental shifted as he considered the shamans offer. A mottle of vibrant green lichen fringed the ridges of his rough stone form distinguishing him from others of the same ilk Mosur had seen in the past. “Your offer is substantial, it leads me to believe this will be a long term investment.” The Warden finally answered.
“It may be. I can not speak for the time this will cost you.” Mosur answered in the same even span of time.
“I will accept your offer under the same conditions, that you bring them to me in Deepholm.”
Mosur nodded resolutely. “I accept, Byre.” The pair spoke on specifics before they finally cemented the deal and the Shale Warden took his leave.
“I see your little pebbles.”
The demon had waited until their ward had departed, and with that comment Mosur’s attention turned to the demon once more, his face unable to hide a startled pause. He had hoped they would remain unseen by their prisoner but for a creature that walked so many planes he shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Don’t act surprised. I can see much more than that.”
Mosur was glad to be done reaffirming the deal with Byre, especially now that the creature had decided to try to converse with him again. He pushed himself up and twisted his hoof against the stones, extinguishing the burning offering.
“Just because you don’t speak to me doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
Mosur hid his hesitation. Demons, especially of this ilk, spoke nothing but lies and manipulation, generalities meant to disarm their prey. He reminded himself of this and traversed the outer ring of the demon’s binding circle towards the exit.
“Don’t mistake yourself shaman. I do know you, and I know you’ve made deals with demons in the past.”
The shaman stopped again, with his hand on the door�s lever. A cold chill ran up the back of his neck. Everything and everyone to do with that was gone and buried but one. The seconds that passed seemed to last forever as the possible explanations and worries flooded his mind.
“Or should I say one demon.”
That correction stopped the shaman from dismissing the demon�s comment as a generality. Mosur pulled the door open and stepped outside, still resolved that he would not converse with the creature. A cacophony of the demons laughter came to his ears just as the door shut, the sound silenced by wards and other magics woven about the building.