Cebrious Arcane-hybrid
Wanderer
A Tale of Murder: 3
Sweat pouring she tore through the forest. Panic. “They’re still behind me,” she thought. Flash. “What was that?” And then… darkness.
Waking to find dust and blood in her eyes, her head was throbbing. The voices were back, “Murder, murder, murder...” Her eyes had a thick crust and she used her fingers to pry them open. Her thoughts soared, “Why am I bleeding?”, “What happened?”, and finally, “Where am I?” Her blinding headache amplified the lightless dark. She was stripped of her gear, but had they found the…No! She slid the dagger out of her boot. “Where…am…I…?” she asked the darkness in hopeless confusion.
“Why, you are here, my dear!” a startling voice responded.
“Who’s there?!” she demanded.
“It is only I, child, a prisoner like yourself,” the voice replied.
“Prisoner?” she thought, “The men that pursued me were faction soldiers, they take no prisoners, why was I spared?” Her eyes were adjusting and she used her hands to find the source of her bleeding, and possibly how to relieve her pain. The voices told her, “Murder, murder, murder…”
“Who are you?” she asked the voice in the darkness.
“I have forgotten my name, child, having been a prisoner for so long. You may call me Tinker, that’s what those blue robed buffoons call me. They come in and drag me out, I make their traps, and then they throw me back in here. I’m still alive, so that’s good.”
“Tinker, how many come to take you to your work?” she asked.
“But child, what is your name? And where are you? My blind eyes can not find the face to match that pretty voice.”
“My name is of no concern, Tinker, and if you speak to me in that way again, I’ll cut out your tongue. How many?”
“Three…” he said, with a long pitiful sigh.
“You are blind, but are you strong?” She demanded.
“Yes, I am not too old yet, I can still hold my own. You cannot escape child, we are buried deep within the temple.”
“Do not question my abilities. Have you anything with which to arm yourself?” The voices were getting louder, “Murder, murder, murder…” “There must be a god,” she thought, “and that god is cursing me.” The blood was coming from a sword wound to her head, her thoughts raced, “That boy, that wretched begging boy, he had the god’s favor, and they plague me for delivering him to them.”
“No…” he replied, jolting her from the memory.
“Then your weapon will be your words. Tell them I lay dying, my wounds are too great and my breaths grow weaker by the moment.” Slowly she lay down, smearing the trickle of blood across the whole of her face. “We will catch them off guard.”
The sounds of their footsteps echoed through the hallway. The echoic clatter pounded in unison with the unrelenting voices, “Murder, murder, murder…” “Soon” she thought, “Very soon indeed.”
“Here they come!” he said in an excited whisper, giddiness and happiness are so nauseatingly useless, but at least this one serves a purpose.
Two guards bumbled their way to the doors of the cell and shouted.
“Awaken Tinker! Your services are required!”
“As you wish, mi’lord, but I fear this young woman will soon perish. She has not moved and her breathing is slow and weak and she is covered in blood.”
"You're alive because you've sold your soul Tinker," she thought, trying to remain still.
“Never you mind, Tinker. I will send for a mage to examine her in detail, your only concern need be for your traps.” With whip in hand, they dragged him out by his thin gray hair.
“Pitiful Tinker..." but her thoughts quickly shifted, "A mage... it has been too long since I last battled one… They're fun... I hope he's not alone.”
She felt the presence of another person but heard no sound. Slowly she lifted one eyelid and gazed through the thick darkness to see the illuminated figure of a young woman. She was thin, and weak, but strong of mind, and strong of heart as she opened the cell door to enter unaccompanied.
“Murder, murder, murder…” her thoughts continued…
“Yes!” she answered aloud and sprang on the mage. Hand over mouth and dagger into throat. The mage's pleading eyes did nothing but ease the voices. Arteries sprayed and the only sound to be heard were the final drips of blood as they fell from the mages still open eyes.
The body fell limp, and the voices fell silent.
“Now, I know my curse and the cure…and I welcome both!”
She wiped her dagger clean, and silently walked out…
Sweat pouring she tore through the forest. Panic. “They’re still behind me,” she thought. Flash. “What was that?” And then… darkness.
Waking to find dust and blood in her eyes, her head was throbbing. The voices were back, “Murder, murder, murder...” Her eyes had a thick crust and she used her fingers to pry them open. Her thoughts soared, “Why am I bleeding?”, “What happened?”, and finally, “Where am I?” Her blinding headache amplified the lightless dark. She was stripped of her gear, but had they found the…No! She slid the dagger out of her boot. “Where…am…I…?” she asked the darkness in hopeless confusion.
“Why, you are here, my dear!” a startling voice responded.
“Who’s there?!” she demanded.
“It is only I, child, a prisoner like yourself,” the voice replied.
“Prisoner?” she thought, “The men that pursued me were faction soldiers, they take no prisoners, why was I spared?” Her eyes were adjusting and she used her hands to find the source of her bleeding, and possibly how to relieve her pain. The voices told her, “Murder, murder, murder…”
“Who are you?” she asked the voice in the darkness.
“I have forgotten my name, child, having been a prisoner for so long. You may call me Tinker, that’s what those blue robed buffoons call me. They come in and drag me out, I make their traps, and then they throw me back in here. I’m still alive, so that’s good.”
“Tinker, how many come to take you to your work?” she asked.
“But child, what is your name? And where are you? My blind eyes can not find the face to match that pretty voice.”
“My name is of no concern, Tinker, and if you speak to me in that way again, I’ll cut out your tongue. How many?”
“Three…” he said, with a long pitiful sigh.
“You are blind, but are you strong?” She demanded.
“Yes, I am not too old yet, I can still hold my own. You cannot escape child, we are buried deep within the temple.”
“Do not question my abilities. Have you anything with which to arm yourself?” The voices were getting louder, “Murder, murder, murder…” “There must be a god,” she thought, “and that god is cursing me.” The blood was coming from a sword wound to her head, her thoughts raced, “That boy, that wretched begging boy, he had the god’s favor, and they plague me for delivering him to them.”
“No…” he replied, jolting her from the memory.
“Then your weapon will be your words. Tell them I lay dying, my wounds are too great and my breaths grow weaker by the moment.” Slowly she lay down, smearing the trickle of blood across the whole of her face. “We will catch them off guard.”
The sounds of their footsteps echoed through the hallway. The echoic clatter pounded in unison with the unrelenting voices, “Murder, murder, murder…” “Soon” she thought, “Very soon indeed.”
“Here they come!” he said in an excited whisper, giddiness and happiness are so nauseatingly useless, but at least this one serves a purpose.
Two guards bumbled their way to the doors of the cell and shouted.
“Awaken Tinker! Your services are required!”
“As you wish, mi’lord, but I fear this young woman will soon perish. She has not moved and her breathing is slow and weak and she is covered in blood.”
"You're alive because you've sold your soul Tinker," she thought, trying to remain still.
“Never you mind, Tinker. I will send for a mage to examine her in detail, your only concern need be for your traps.” With whip in hand, they dragged him out by his thin gray hair.
“Pitiful Tinker..." but her thoughts quickly shifted, "A mage... it has been too long since I last battled one… They're fun... I hope he's not alone.”
She felt the presence of another person but heard no sound. Slowly she lifted one eyelid and gazed through the thick darkness to see the illuminated figure of a young woman. She was thin, and weak, but strong of mind, and strong of heart as she opened the cell door to enter unaccompanied.
“Murder, murder, murder…” her thoughts continued…
“Yes!” she answered aloud and sprang on the mage. Hand over mouth and dagger into throat. The mage's pleading eyes did nothing but ease the voices. Arteries sprayed and the only sound to be heard were the final drips of blood as they fell from the mages still open eyes.
The body fell limp, and the voices fell silent.
“Now, I know my curse and the cure…and I welcome both!”
She wiped her dagger clean, and silently walked out…