father said goodbye and I could remember my horror when I awoke and my father and mother were nowhere inside the cabin. I remembered rushing out only to see my Master standing there, his welcoming arms spread wide. My Master was my true father in heart. But he was dead. This man was only an imposter.
“No, I never abandoned you. You were kidnapped by a rival Order.” He responded in the same calm tone.
“Liar!” The windows shattered as my rage-filled energy tore them apart. Wooden floorboards strained to resist my rage. “My Master was the only human who’s ever treated me with love. He was my father. You are an imposter.”
“Maybe, in spirit, but most assuredly he was not in blood, my son. And I loved you too. Your mother and I thought you’d be safe where we had you. We loved you, my son.”
“Never call me that.” I said, mentally calming myself down, knowing I was wasting my energy on anger.
“You have learned well from your kidnappers.” He commented dryly.
“Enough! It is time for the completion of my mission, old man!”
“Very well, I cannot contend with you. However, remember the slaying of one’s blood leaves an unbearable and inerasable stain.” He responded and walked silently as a cat to the bed. He lay down, crossed his arms, and then closed his eyes. I struck! I struck deep and hard, my dagger slid through his ribs and pierced his slowly beating heart. Blood oozed. I stabbed again and again, hoping to kill my past and the guilt that was already bearing down on me. The bloodied bed and the pierced body are now forever ingrained in my memory. I cast my dagger toward the wall and it quivered there, embedded deep with hate. I longed for a peace of mind that still eludes me.
My fate, Hah! I was told all about Fate by the men who raised me. Those men had now betrayed me and even lied to me about my father. I detested my former brethren’s every breath. I left that horrid room and went downstairs; the drunken men were brawled about on the floor. I hated them. I did not know why, but I despised their mumblings and their drunken slumber. I hated their imperfection and imagined them all as liars and deceivers, hurtful men, men whose lives were not of the same worth as a tail on the sickest donkey in the land. Therefore, I relieved them of their pitiful, maggot lives!
Through those streets by night I walked, no one was out. At least, no one of any value to the world, I could feel someone following me down an alley. Two more were waiting ahead. I could smell the sweat on their foreheads. I smiled and began to whistle an old tune I had learned from my former master. I could feel them ready themselves. They were nervous at my whistling and it made me chuckle.
“Halt! No one passes without paying a toll.” Two men armed with hefty clubs jumped out, blocking the narrow alleyway.
“And who owns this alleyway, my friend?” I asked, my hand instinctively reaching for my blade that was not there.
“What?” One of them asked, obviously disturbed by my menacing yet seemingly innocent question. The third presence crept up behind me. I once again plastered a huge smile on my face and walked forward.
“Ha…” Crack! One of the two men tried to shout but I cast him against the brick wall using his own energy. The other crumpled to the ground as I drained him of his life. The man behind me leaped and stopped in midair, held there by the power flowing through me.
“Who are you?” I heard him whine as his club fell to the ground. I picked it up with the energy and smashed it against his skull. He went limp and I cast him against a table. I actually smiled as I went up to each body and broke its backbone to make sure of its death. They were already dead but I didn’t want witnesses. Witnesses were not something I desired while still in the city. Witnesses are maggots whom I have never appreciated.
Fate, I knew my fate. Before that night I had no idea of my fate. That mission was the clarifying water that wiped the mud from my eyes. I knew my fate. My fate was to kill my former brothers. Fate is a funny thing.
Back to top
Returning
I had lost my knife and I hated myself for it. I did not feel comfortable walking into my former place of refuge without a weapon. They couldn’t get me for anything according to the laws of the Order. Nevertheless I did not trust my fellow Masters, not even with one drop of my blood. One of the newly joined lads ran past me. He was only six. Around his thin waist was a vicious curved dagger. I realized that this had been me at one time. His red hair was cut short. My anger burned against my masters…no, not my masters…my soon-to-be-dead slaves who thought they were free. I was the only one in the hidden Cult’s grounds that was truly free. So I thought, deceiving myself.
My return only imprisoned me deeper into the black bonds of revenge. When I viewed once again the things which my former brothers did to those who failed…I hated them for it. But who was more wrong, me for meaning to slaughter them, or them for purposefully disposing of a weakling? Which is more evil? Mercy is for fools and so is the judging of moral actions. My time to strike came as the whole Order was sacrificing a young member to the god of the night. It was the red-haired boy. His blood dripped down the black altar stones.
I snuck away under the cover provided by the god they worshipped and armed myself with many weapons. I climbed unto the wall and ran swiftly along it, firing arrows into the small crowd. One of my arrows I guided toward one of the Grand Masters. My arrow tore through his black heart and I laughed with pleasure.
The Order was up in arms now and all my brothers surged toward me, trainee and master fell under my javelins, my sword swung with more than muscle. A small, eight year old leapt unto the wall and charged me. I swiftly impaled him on a spear and cast him across the compound. I cared not. My revenge could only be satisfied if they all died.
One of the Great Masters leapt unto the wall and cast me off with the power he had been summoning. I reached out and hauled him over with me. I hurled a knife at him as we fell. He knocked it aside with his sword. I cast him back up into the air as I fell unto a bush. I drew the twin short swords I had stolen and waited for him to start falling again. When he did I launched myself upward. He knocked aside one of my blades but my other caught him through the neck and his head fell faster than his body. I landed in his blood, my head bouncing off his. I knocked aside two arrows and then dove into the cover of the woods. Arrows from a score of bows whizzed in after me. I was scraped thrice and two of the missiles found their marks in my lower back. I gathered energy from around me and shot off through the woods faster than a the Order’s arrows.
My return was less successful than I had anticipated. I now staggered through the woods, lost, wounded, the blood still flowing from my back. I had to find someplace safe to rest. Someplace to heal for the world was turning black. The pain ripped at my back, the barbed arrows sawing at my bones as I moved. But I had to continue on, continue or die. I would not die before I had completed my revenge. No longer did Fate have a hold of me. Fate had betrayed me.
Blood, how I loved and hated it. When I thought about it Fate became an evil lurking monster. A sort of god that cruelly used its powers to twist my life and tear my soul into pieces! My thoughts caressed this as I dressed my wounds and healed them with my power. No, it wasn’t even my own power. It was the power of life drained from the skinny saplings around me. When I left them, they were withered and dead, hollow pieces of material not even rotting away because of the sudden change from life to death. There was no dying stage for those trees. I sapped their power swiftly to revive myself. I need to travel as quickly as possible. I knew my hated brothers would be close behind.
The wilderness is wide and filled with many hiding places. I lost track of time as I wandered south, away from my Order who would be combing all civilized lands that they might find and kill me. I laugh when I think of it. No longer can they do anything about me. I am that ever present fear when you know something can hurt you and yet you continue to try to live as normal. I am not one easily defeated. After a long journey, walking and running, I remember that before I reached the sandy desert I rip
ped the arrows from my flesh. As I stood beside that pond of fish, I healed the holes in my back. The fish all floated to the surface, more skeletons of living creatures than freshly slaughtered corpses.
Healed of my wounds and rested, I continued on. I ran all the time now, drawing on the energy of whatever living things I could find. My feet hit the sand and I had trouble staying upright. The ground shifted and moved as I ran up a hill. How barren that lonely place was. It was so hot and scorching. The desert was a perfect resemblance of my heart. It was a desert, hot with wrath, barren of life. After a while the wrath against my Order had grown again as a lurking monster. The fear for my life cowered underneath its great shadow. Every southward step I took was harder and I no longer ran but walked with my head high. My face was whipped with the whirling sands and the hot wind only fed my anger. It reminded me of that feeling as I plunged my knife into my own father’s flesh. The image of his bloodied body stained my eyes.
I soon entered into an oasis in the midst of that desert. Tall palm trees rose all around me. Opposite the Oasis pond loomed a hill. A jaw-like opening was set in the side of that hill and around its borders were inscribed many runes unfamiliar to my mind. A
Wind of Destruction Page 2
