Page 22 of Tiger's Tale
How did it follow him from the other place, he wondered. Grigor had no weapons. He knew magic wouldn’t kill the creature. It was a demon of shadows and nightmares. It hunted him just as surely as Grigor hunted everything else. He knew that if he was to become the truly powerful being he wanted to be, he’d first need to learn how to slay the monster that hunted him at night. To do that, he’d need to collect more magic, more power, more charms. He sat up watching all night and fell into a fitful sleep in the early morning hours.
The next day he made it his mission to learn everything he could about the stranger’s charm on his own. Instinct told him that gaining the stranger’s power was only a small piece of a very big puzzle, and that there was much, much more in store for Grigor. The idea that he could uncover, overcome, and absorb and become even greater than he was buzzed life through his blood. So his hunt began.
The first step was to explore the limitations of the “wishing” power. He quickly learned it could not be used for himself. It could only be granted in trade and to those of a good heart who gave of their own free will. The charm seemed to have a mind of its own and almost led him to those who needed a wish. Try as he might, he could not manipulate or fabricate wishes for himself. However, that did not mean he could not “lead” the wishes of the pure in heart or manipulate the trade in some way.
He became particularly gifted with language over the years, and once he found a person to whom the charm wanted to grant a wish, it was fairly simple for him to take his time and study the person and the people surrounding them. He’d make a big show about how he was looking for a worthy specimen. Someone to whom Shangti, or Allah, or Zeus, Ra, or Baal, or Vishnu wanted to show a miracle or give a blessing. Others would come forward; many would seek him out then, showering him with gold, precious gems, even sneaking daughters or beautiful handmaidens into his tent just to gain his favor.
Grigor would always accept these gifts graciously. Some he would even share with the townspeople. Subtly, though, he’d send word that what the god they worshipped was really seeking was a set of old hidden artifacts—worthless charms that were just tokens passed down in certain families that were signs of their god’s favor. Any family in possession of such would surely gain any blessing they sought.
As he traveled from town to town performing his “miracles,” his fame grew. His followers considered him a holy man, and why not? Wasn’t he a saint? Wasn’t he helping others? Wasn’t he performing miracles?
Years passed, and he traveled from one city to another and then from one country to another. He saw the Kievian Empire expand and grow until it was so large it touched both great seas. It didn’t matter much to him. Politics and armies were nothing to Grigor. They came and went like waves on the sand. Then, almost as if his own wish came true, a tiny woman brought him a genuine charm, a second piece. Many had tried to fool him before with false pieces, but he could feel it when she came near. It hummed through his blood. The piece was genuine.
To his surprise and delight, the old woman had no idea what she possessed. To her, it was a mere heirloom passed down from her ancestors. She was willing to give it up in exchange for a miracle. Grigor was more than happy to oblige, willing to part with whatever wealth or gems he had accumulated in exchange for the powerful object she’d granted him.
Unfortunately, the woman didn’t desire wealth or gems. What she wanted was to regain her youth, and what was doubly unlucky for her was the fact that his particular charm didn’t seem inclined to grant her a boon. Still, that didn’t stop Grigor from assuring her that he’d do his best, nor did it hinder him from proclaiming as much to his devotees.
All it took was finding a street urchin, a girl orphaned and unattached to anyone in particular, one young enough not to be particularly fond of a name. With great fanfare before the crowds, he took the starstruck woman into his spacious tent and made her comfortable on his very own silk pillows, then graciously took the charm and slipped it into a secret pocket sewn into his elaborate floor-length coat.
Then he read several verses from mysterious, undecipherable scrolls recovered from distant caves written by dead prophets no one had ever heard of before. Quoting from the strange ciphers, he promised the devoted and the pious blessings and treasures more numerous than the stars. When she was utterly transfixed, he smiled most graciously, proclaimed her ready, and plied her with spiced wine laced with enough sleeping draughts to knock out an elephant.
When her heart stopped, he summoned one trusted servant, who wrapped her dead body in fabric, placed her in a crate, and nailed it shut. Then he produced the orphaned child and called in other servants to cart out the box containing the body, telling them to bury it outside the city, far enough away that no one would find it.
Grigor knew none of them would talk. Even if they suspected, they wouldn’t dare. They all hoped to be granted a wish themselves, and they had seen enough to believe in his powers. Grigor was also very careful to keep up the act, reassuring all that the woman’s old form had been reinvigorated. The young child was presented to the world outside as the new version of the old woman. She was quickly accepted by the family, and the whole town celebrated the miracle, even throwing a feast for Grigor.
Grigor smiled his oily smile and went through the motions of feasting, waving a dismissive at all the new requests for favors and invitations for dining and so forth, passing off such things to his minions. He had more important concerns on his mind. That evening, he retired early and, careful to make certain he was completely alone, pulled the new golden charm from his secret pocket.
He turned it over and over between his fingertips, comparing it to the one he’d had for so many years. Both pieces warmed under the pads of his thumbs. He could just make out writing on each piece.Was it possible?he thought.
Carefully, he touched the two pieces together. They fit with a snap, and a burst of energy shot out through the tent and slammed into his body, knocking him back onto his silken pillows. He was aware of falling and his head hitting the silk, and then, just like before, he was in a different place altogether. A new place. A place that offered a test. He went through the trials again, showing the new piece that he could face any challenge, defeat any enemy. Again he defeated all, seizing each new ability except one. His enemy with fang and claw had gained more power, but so had he. Still, the monster eluded him. He knew that to win he must defeat the beast once and for all. Again he was released back to the mortal world, victorious, even more powerful than before. He became obsessed with finding more pieces, collecting more power, and defeating his enemy.
Since the time of his youth, he’d discovered four of the seven pieces. It had taken him the better part of four centuries, according to his time, but the weeks, hours, and days spent lost in the tests prepared by the amulet—for that is what he now knew it to be—were nothing to Grigor’s body. The trials he passed were helping him prepare for what was coming.
Now Grigor understood that it was his destiny to walk as a true god among mortals, not a charlatan who impressed those who were beneath him. Already he had conquered each of the terrible tasks assigned to him, slaying each monster hidden in the amulet, getting it to release its power to him, and in return he had been granted beautiful gifts. But try as he might, he could not seem to find the last three pieces of the amulet, or defeat the ever-growing brute that haunted him in the night.
Grigor knew his best hope would be to continue traveling the world, offering miracles in return for “gifts,” pretending to seek “religious relics” as he did so. Unfortunately, those in power were always suspicious of those who attracted a following. It had always been so, no matter what century one lived in.
To stave off those who would do him harm, he sought refuge in monasteries, thinking to impress the growing new church with favors, followers, his abilities, and godlike powers, but instead of finding in Grigor the spark of divine, or recommending him to the archimandrite inspectors, the church officials, bishops, and rectors found his actions were altogether “too eccentric,” “self-serving,” and “of a supernatural nature rather than spiritual.”
Though Grigor insisted he was a starets, a holy man, they questioned his background, his parentage, his education, and above all, would consider him no such thing. Then, when he thought to prove his worth and used his newfound ability—thanks to the fourth piece of the amulet—to raise the recently deceased Bishop Alexandrovna, proclaiming he had been given the power to resurrect, they cried, “Heresy!” “Blasphemy!” and “Put him to death!”
So he took the now malleable raised-from-the-dead Bishop Alexandrovna with him and left. It wasn’t like they had the power to stop him. Still... he tried the same thing again at another monastery and another. It was the same at each one. He even tried a mosque or two outside the Kievian Empire but received the same fearful reaction.
Grigor realized he just wasn’t going to be appreciated in his time. So instead, he decided to simply bide his time and wait. He wondered if he’d been going about things all wrong. Perhaps instead of seeking the adoration and devotion of religious fanatics, he might gain more from fear. He decided then to seek out a small town and experiment by building up his own undead army instead and use them to look for the other pieces of the amulet.
He started with his own minions, killing them first and then bringing them back. It was easier than he’d thought it would be and doing so carried with it the added benefit of saving the cost of feeding or housing the living. After them, it was easy enough to recruit others. The only negative side effect was that the undead army didn’t move about in the sun, thus their taking up residence in a deep, dark forest.
Now he had adopted the same hours practiced by his army. It was simply easier to remain awake when they were. And instead of being honored, he was now feared, which he didn’t really mind. The townspeople had called him and his followers wurdulac, upyr, or the undead.
While he supposed that technically “undead” was a fitting description, he wasn’t fond of the other two terms. One of them implied that he drank the blood of the living, which simply wasn’t the case. The other meant he’d been excommunicated from the church, which was also wrong. Technically, he’d never been a baptized member of the church.
What that meant as far as him being sinful or having a soul, he didn’t know, but he did know you couldn’t be cast out of a place you’d never been invited into, so excommunication was impossible. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was now.Am I immortal?Maybe.Do I still have an appetite?Yes.Can I be hurt?Yes. Though he did heal rather quickly. It was one of the side effects of the amulet. He also noticed that those he raised didn’t experience pain. They did not, however, heal. Perhaps it was because they were no longer alive.
He’d experimented on a few of them before, cutting off arms or hands and fingers and the like. It didn’t seem to bother them in any way. They didn’t bleed either. Or eat. But cutting off their heads did them in permanently. There was no bringing them back again after that. Once the brain was detached from the body, they were gone.
Grigor’s ability even worked on animals. He’d brought back birds, reptiles, horses, even pigs and cows. As long as there was enough of a brain left to work with, they came back. He’d rather enjoyed experimenting with each of his new powers as he’d acquired them.
Now it was time for a new experiment, and this boy had brought an intriguing proposal. He’d been in the forest building an army long enough. It was time to flex his muscles, as it were, and shake the tree to see what fell out. It had been too long since he’d heard word of any new pieces of the amulet. Perhaps it was time to rule from a larger throne.
