McKINNON ESTATE—GLENDALOW
1260 CE

What is that?” Lochlann nervously asked. He had seen Mierta experiment hundreds of times on innocent creatures, sometimes out of curiosity, but most times to see how much they could tolerate various spells of torture, but never had he seen him perform on a live human being. He was beginning to believe that his brother was slowly descending into madness.

“THAT, my brother, is a brand,” Mierta stated between smiles, placing his wand back into a pocket of his breeches. He watched Armand arch his back, screaming, and squirming like a bug trying to get away after being caught up in a spider’s web.

Lochlann nodded, though not completely convinced. “What does it do then?”

“Ah. It’s really an easy spell, actually. It’s a mind–binding spell. It makes its bearer lose all of his or her free will,” Mierta explained.

“How does it work?” Lochlann asked.

“It activates when the brain receives a sudden burst of…Oi!” He frowned, marching up to Armand. He observed Armand’s entire body twitch. Mierta decided to speak down to him. “Now, I really enjoy a good sound of screaming, but could you stop it now? It really is quite distracting!”

When Armand didn’t obey, Mierta gestured with his arms and hands. “Oh, come on, it doesn’t hurt THAT much. Quit the dramatics and be quiet!”

Almost instantly, Armand recovered from the shock to his system.

Pleased, Mierta said, “There, that’s better. Breathe normally. You are all right now. Go on, then. Put your shirt back on. But, first,” he once again revealed his wand and pointed it towards Armand’s legs, “Zapídra contrarium!”

Armand regained the ability to move his legs.

“You can stand up now,” Mierta said, putting his wand away.

Armand stood as commanded; his movements were slow and stiff and his eyes looked like he was in some kind of trance–like state.

Mierta grinned, then twirled around and turned his attention back to Lochlann. “Now, as I was saying,” he walked back towards Lochlann and put his arm around him. “Mind–bending spell…it activates when the brain receives a sudden burst of psychic transmissions. Those who are branded have absolutely no control of their actions. Here,” Mierta pulled Lochlann over to Armand, eager to show him the signs of his success. “Look at his eyes.”

Armand winced when he began to button his shirt.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry. I forgot to mention to be careful when you button up. The brand will sting.” He laughed in amusement, then turned Armand around and forced him to look at them. Mierta pointed. “Now, Lochlann, notice how the eyes have gone dull. Blimey, it’s an amazing process. His brain is at this very moment desperately trying to fight against its new controller, only it can’t. He can’t resist you.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean to say is YOU control the brand. You could order him to do anything, anything at all, and no matter how he truly feels about the situation, he will do whatever you desire. For example,” Mierta turned and frolicked back to the wooden bench. He grabbed some new ingredients, started up a new cauldron, brought it to a boil and then grabbed a new small culture tube and poured some of the solution into it while Lochlann watched in amazement. He was eager to prove to Lochlann just how powerful this spell really was. He returned to Lochlann and Armand. He held the small culture tube in front of Lochlann. “Here. Tell him to drink this. He has absolutely no idea what is in my concoction, but I can assure you he will drink it.”

Lochlann swallowed hard. He was growing more uncomfortable the longer he stayed. “But what if I don’t want him to do it?”

“Do you not trust me?” Mierta frowned. “If you truly believe you are my apprentice and I am your master, then you must continue to listen to me and do as you’re told. Go on now, tell Armand to drink that.”

Lochlann cleared his throat and nodded his head. “All right then. Show me that what Mierta says is true,” he took the small culture tube from Mierta’s hand and held it in front of Armand. “Will you drink this if I tell you to?”

At that very moment, Mierta locked eyes with Armand’s, his glance piercing Armand’s soul. Lochlann had no idea the true command was coming directly from Mierta to Armand using only his mind.

“Oui, good Monsieur, I must. It is your will,” Armand responded obediently.

He reached for the small culture tube and took it from Lochlann’s hand.

“No, wait!” Lochlann said. “It isn’t my will.”

Before Lochlann could finish his sentence, Armand bent his head back and drank the solution.

Lochlann’s face turned to horror. He realised in his heart at that very moment, he had actually wanted Armand to drink the potion. Was he becoming evil? He had no idea what was in the solution. For all he knew, Mierta had only been using Armand as a way to eliminate him from revealing any of the information he may have overheard, and he, Lochlann, had just fallen into the trap.

“Ha!” Mierta clapped, bringing Lochlann back from his thoughts. He strutted over to Lochlann. “Brilliant, what a very clever way to make an order. You wanted to see what would happen and you got your wish. Now, what will be the result, hmmm? Will he die? Will he turn into some fascinating creature?”

Lochlann could only stare at Armand, afraid and curious at the same time.

However, before he could answer, Mierta took over the conversation. “Relax. All he drank was some truth serum. I decided I better start working on one for Anya when she sends for my presence, and believe me, if what you told me was the truth, she will, once this brigand, Eoghan, is caught.” He spun around. “Now, there is one other thing you must understand, and understand it well. Armand will be forever loyal to you. He will never betray you, and he will always do what you ask.” He turned back to Armand, who no longer looked to be caught in any kind of spell. “For example: tell me, Armand, who do you serve?” Again he made persuasive eye contact.

“The warlock, Lochlann, good Monsieur,” Armand answered.

No. This cannot be, Lochlann thought.

Mierta smiled, further pleased at himself.

“But, what if I don’t want him to serve me? I can’t force him, that’s not me. I beg of you Mierta, how do I break the brand?”

Mierta laughed. He began to strut away, his laughter becoming even more apparent. Then he became serious, and turned back to Lochlann. “There is only one way to break the spell.”

“And that is?” Lochlann asked desperately.

Mierta smirked then spoke matter–of–factly. “Your death.”

Unbeknownst to them, at that exact moment, their father had gotten out of bed, desperate to find Mierta. Then a severe coughing attack racked his body, causing him to vomit a large amount of blood. He collapsed onto the floor. Dead. In his clenched hand was a letter revealing a disturbing secret he had been keeping most of his life.