| Subject: *Sighs* You know I start a lot of stories that I never finish and some (like this one) are over 50 pages when I stop. It is a shame, but the characters actually do serve as the basis for other ones in new stories. Take Sarvin. Her basic character was once basd on a male character named Merrowith. I stopped Merrowith's story and took his character and made him into Sarvin. So although i am calling it quits on this one, the characters are being recycled into the story I have got going on now. A longer part's inside> |
Author:
Sekin Brightfall
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Date Posted: 02:36:49 03/04/04 Thu
In reply to:
Swordslash
's message, "Sekin, thanks for making this next section a long one, but I think your gut feeling is wrong! Don't let all this work go to waste - this is a wonderful story and you should keep writing it if you have time. You have LOTS of fans who would be very sorry to see this story go. Please think about continuing it!!!" on 19:36:36 03/03/04 Wed
Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac returned Larshin’s gaze. “There’s nothing in that drink that isn’t supposed to be in there right? You saw what happened to Grinfak. The same or worse could happen to you.”
Larshin bowed her head slightly. “There’s nothing in there that could prove harmful to you Dark Captain. My poisons are for my victims, not my leaders.” Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac had the impression that she was smiling in fond reminiscence.
At the fireside, Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac unfastened his cloak and laid it on the dry ground, as Larshin bent over the flames. With a cat-like gracefulness, the Dark Captain sunk down cross-legged onto the cloak, squelching the thick tide of horrendous fear that surged through him. He wanted to scream, to yell, to run, to hide, but he only calmly took the cup that the hooded Stabnar brought to him from the flames. He could feel the hysteria that fear brings, begin to clutch his throat, but he raised the beaker and drank the steaming liquid in a gulp.
Tossing the cup to one side, Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac laid down on his cloak, gazing up at the night sky as the drugs slowly took effect. His breaths became deeper and more sluggish; his fear seemed, far away, unimportant, and dull. With one last deep breath, his eyes closed and the dream took him.
He could feel the Great Lord’s presence in his mind, could feel it burrowing into his thoughts, his dreams. It hurt hideously, like a clawed paw scooping deeper and deeper into the body of its prey, scraping out gore and entrails. It also reminded him of a worm, burrowing and drilling into the core of a rotten fruit. His body thrashed in the throes of agony, writhing and twisting, but it was his mind that suffered the most pain. His thoughts, like dirt, were being dug up and tossed aside to make room for something else. There was nothing he could do to stop it, at this point his mind was completely open to he Great Lord.
And then, suddenly the boring presence was gone and he found himself in the horrible woods of Tyrin’al’sin. The mist spiraled and twisted around him, like ghostly ropes in this dark world. The gloom weighed upon his eyes, dragged down his soul. He tasted bile and knew that Grinfak had been right. There was punishment coming.
As a hunter in Tyrin, he was gifted with the best eyesight, the best hearing, and a wild sense of joy, excitement, and power…Now, he was subject to fear and half-blind. No, the Great Lord was not at all pleased.
The voice slid into his mind, oil sliding across ice, blade sliding into unprotected back. He was fixed to the spot, unable to move, as the words blossomed into his head. “Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac…Sarvin has her mind blocked to me, as a Stabnar never should…”
The Dark Captain felt a slight release of the pressure holding him in place, and he knew he had to speak. The words rushed to his mouth and he stumbled over them as he rushed to explain, to avoid the pain that was coming. “She-she fled. She’s with the Serpent now…”
A brooding silence fell. Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac knew he wasn’t alone for he could still feel that other person inside his head. The voice slid inside his head again, a snake slithering through sheaves of corn, poison sliding into veins from a tainted weapon. “You have failed me Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac!” The power of the slick voice roared in his head and he shook, sinking onto his knees in the clammy fog. The words exploded his senses with the sheer power with which they were uttered and they rang in his ears harshly. “You’re lust for revenge caused you to ignore the greater danger that Sarvin now poses!” Tears coursed down the Dark Captain’s face and his lips moved, trying to force out words that couldn’t be forced.
“I told you to watch her! I told you that he loyalty was wavering! Demarkon died because of you! You and your damned pride!” Amidst the gnarled, hideously twisted trees, in the dark of Tyrin’al’sin, a figure appeared, striding slowly towards him, wearing robes the color of the coiling mist with a hood pulled up over His face. Each step was slow and unhurried but the ground shook in agony under them and the mist roiled like a tortured sea in the face of a vicious storm. Howls rent the air, yellow eyes gleamed and flashed in the shadows, and the branches of the trees rattled.
Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac dropped onto his stomach on the dirt with tears streaming from his red eyes. “Forgive me!” he panted, wracked by sobs. “Forgive me! Master please I-” He didn’t even have time to finish his plea before he began to scream.
Larshin’s gaze snapped back to the body of Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac as he began to writhe and twist, kick and convulse in agony. Her dark gaze watched impassively from across the flames as she sipped at some tea that she had brewed for herself. A gash suddenly split open the Dark Captain’s pale face from left eye to the right cheek. It was caused by an invisible blow in the waking world, but a real, hideous one in Tyrin’al’sin. His kicks intensified as he rolled and thrashed on the ground, blood flying from a jagged wound that cut his arm all the way from wrist to elbow. Larshin raised the beaker to her mouth again, drinking more tea casually. Soft grunts of pain mingled with the rustle of the cloak being kicked, did little to faze her and the blood flying up into the air was completely ignored.
There was nothing that she could do, even if she wanted to. She couldn’t wake him at all, not by shaking, not by cold water, not by wounding, and not even with the Flows. He could only be woken once the Great lord released him from Tyrin’al’sin. It looked like Grinfak had been right, Al’Sheen’al’Tamorac was being punished.
She took another sip of the sweet tea, unfazed and totally unconcerned. It was going to be a long night for the Dark Captain and Grinfak was still suffering at the hands of Bwir. But at least she could get some rest herself. Smiling thinly, Larshin added another sugar cube to her tea and stirred it in with the tip of her dagger. Tea was so soothing at night. She sampled the sweeter mix and nodded. Just the way she liked it.
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