All had been planned. Of course it had been. The raven knew all things, and seldom shared much of this knowledge. The southerners had served their part in his plans and where only bothersome at best. Noisome, weak and nowhere near fervent enough to keep his attention, they had fallen far from his mercy, instead only now serving as part of his plans again, to , for one, fool his brute brother and for two test out how far this new asset could go. He was not disappointed in his choice.
Asgeirr awoke in what seemed to be the sanctum at first, brightly illuminated by blue and purple flames that burned with a cold air, that commanded every living being around them to shiver with doubt and shake with knowledge, that was there for one moment and gone in another, tearing holes into the mind, leaving the certainty that naught was made for eternity. There he was again. The cursed seer. It's purple silhouette was nearly not to make out amongst the flames. "You've come a long way, Asgeirr, tool of the four. You have served the masters well, for now at least. But you are hurt...You cannot continue like this now, can you?" as he said this, madness insued. The flames burned higher, screaming like women and children, long dead, hammering on Asgeirr's mind. Asgeirr wanted to finally end this farce, stand up to the demon once, but found himself chained to his throne, and watched with ever greater disbelief, as the weapons of the dead cultists gained a sentience, rattling around, breaking, melting, bending, shaking, forming claws and arms, that reached out for him! The blood that covered him began to boil, melting away his ragged clothes, skin, flesh and muscles, as the pain in his left shoulder became unbearable, sending unbelievable pain through his body, making him tear at his chains, twitching violently, choking upon his own tongue, that seemed like it wanted to fly away. He screamed with madness, while his body was slowly burned away, and his limbs were torn of his body by the metal claws and arms of molten steel, creaking and shrieking with delight, as their master had given them a final use. And as he could feel sinew, muscle and flesh rip, hear the cracking of bones and smell his own blood and burned flesh, he heard the seer.
Sometimes a tool breaks...
YOU ARE READING
THE SAGA OF ASGEIRR
Fantasy"Greetings, stranger, come, have a seat and listen. Let me tell you the Saga of Asgeirr, chosen of the gods! A tool of the gods' will, gifted with suffering and hardship, and other things that the gods seldom give. Interested? Come then, let us see...
