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The Illusionist (Part 1)

Started by Isilmo
Post #91330

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Aldmeri Dominion
The Illusionist (Part 1)

She sat down in the chair in the middle of the room, the weak spell above her head barely glowing, spreading but a little light around the room and the candle, well stump of one at least nearly burned out. She was a mage, a mighty sorceress… Wasn’t she? And this was her tower, it was a magnificent tower made of pure crystal and built by her own mind, and outside there were… rolling green hills and trees and rivers and meadows and streams but… this was her tower, my tower.
She remembered her childhood and those happy…old, old days before… before.

She remembered making hens fight and peck each other to death and eat their own eggs, and how she used to make the farm dogs run off into the woods scowling never to return and she remembered how her father her sweet loving father would beat her beat her till she bled because of the ‘witchcraft’ I used to destroy the farm, and how I made my father run away from me as if I was some beast only to get drunk return home and beat me again. And I remember when he came home one night and he beat me and then he told me to stay quiet and we went inside and mother was making supper and… and I was angry at my sweet, sweet loving father and mother picked up the knife and stabbed father in the back and again and again and then I cried and mother dropped the knife and she screamed and I screamed and they took her away and then the Vigil came and they burned her, My sweet, sweet loving mother for witchcraft and Deadra worship. And the Vigil took me into their cold, caring arms… so cold. And in my one nightdress they put me in a room alone no bed, no chair, no table, so small a room. But a shrine, a shrine to a god. They told me to pray, to pray for mercy. And I hated that shrine and I melted it, just like that.

Then one night I lay on the floor crying myself to sleep and I heard laughing and joyful cheer from behind the door and I hated it, I hated it so much, I hated it more than anything, more than, father, my sweet loving father, my caring mother, more than the village children calling me a freak as the Vigil took me away. And then I saw red, red unlike cloth, unlike wine, unlike blood but like pure hate and I heard a sword being drawn but I cared not and then I heard clashes and bangs and squelches and screams and then… Silence.

I stood up and walked slowly towards the door and the lock clicked open as I touched it. Outside blood pools of blood mixing with spilt wine making a much more tasteful drink now flowing like rivers seeping into the cracks in the floor like fertile fields and rivers of death. And the bodies, Oh the bodies so, so many bodies. It was… Interesting to see what a woman’s head looked like after being hit by a mace or a leg crushed by a war hammer or even a stomach after a sword’s been driven through it. And there was the dagger in the throat through the mouth and the arrows and bolts in the eyes looked like the sweet apples on sticks from fair’s and I wondered whether the tasted the same.

And then there was the man, his legs crushed, bleeding, and he asked…, he asked for help. He said “Oh, little girl come over here please help me. What happened here, what happened to me? I can’t feel my legs.” And I carefully took the dagger out of his hand and raised it in the air feeling its weight and as he shouted I plunged it into his chest and his scream pierced the cold night air just like blade did his heart and with every stab and every wound his screams grew softer till they were no more…

(To be Continued…)
This post was last modified: August 26th 2013, 07:07 AM by Isilmo
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