Please note: I am updating this draft of The Prisoner of Arlunn. The most important change is that the main character's name has been changed from Philip to Rian.
53
The Adherents of Miak.
Human cages in a large cavern. Chains and whips. Humanoid creatures with bug-like eyes and antennae and an extra set of arms. Terrified, he's taken from his cage, beaten when he tries to run.
To the pit.
A cold iron chain around his neck. Chained on an outcropping of rock over the pit. He can't stop shaking.
A hum of wings. Slow, low, rasp of something rising from the pit. Long red wings, black eyes, black jaws. Claws. Hovering above him. Malice incarnate ... from darker places than even the Nethermost Realm.
He struggles but the chain holds. Slowly the creature circles him, drawing closer. The wings beating faster. The air closes in. He can't breathe.
Suddenly it lunges at him, boring into his mind, encircling him with darkness, drawing tighter and tighter. Trying to extinguish him.
Surrounded by hatred, malevolence, animus, rancor.
Fury and wrath.
His life draws to an end.
They only need his body ... not his soul.
* * * * * * * * *
Too many thoughts rushed in on him; his mind was a swirling vortex of memories: pain, guilt, rage. Everything had been uprooted. Nothing in his mind was in a familiar place. Names, places, hopes, desires, dreams, and deeds jumbled together in a tangled mass. He tried to slow it down, make sense of it.
Something from outside tried to force its way in, a mental attack from those who wished to destroy and doom him. He fought back—struck out against his attacker.
Fragments of memory assaulted him: his own or someone else's—he couldn't be sure. They had to be his own.
Horrified, he remembered coldly and dispassionately stabbing his father in the heart; taking the beating heart from his body which lay in a pool of blood—in order to create the magic-spawn, that pale, weak useless freak of a brother who had brought him nothing but trouble. He had murdered his own father—the man who had sung songs to him, taught him to sword fight and read him bedtime stories!
He wasn't the only one. There was murder, after murder, after murder, after murder! He couldn't be this person!
The flood of memories threatened to tear him apart. He felt his mind fracturing into pieces, unable to hold together all the dichotomy of his own identity. He fought against oblivion; being sucked into the nameless void of darkness.
Finally, the hurricane of thought broke, and slowed down somewhat. Some of the thoughts began to clear. And suddenly, he found himself awake in a dungeon, laying on a cold, stone table.
He was weak, sweating and exhausted, chained hand and foot so that he could barely move, and naked from the waist up.
"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted. Overcome by rage, he pulled uselessly at his chains. A young man came into his view, well-dressed, with blond hair.
"Rian, are you all right?" the man asked with concern.
The face was familiar but the name eluded him. Who was this? Shouldn't he know him?
For that matter, what was his own name? Who was he? He tried to dredge the answer up but his confused mind failed to find it. His mind was sluggish, still tinged with dark dreams and evil thoughts.
His head pounded with a painful headache. He moaned. Another rush of anger overwhelmed him. "Let me go!"
But then another taller, older man stepped into view, all dressed in black mage robes.
A shock of fear went through him. "You are Arlunni!" he accused the man, staring at him.
"Yes," admitted the mage. "And who are you?"
Who am I?
No reliable answer came to mind, except the one supplied by the first young man. What had he called him? "Rian," he answered the mage, hoping it was the right answer.
"You are Rian?" asked the mage, not looking convinced.
Distracted, the young man caught the mage's eye and nodded to a third person near the table: this one was just a boy and so pale he looked like a spirit: white hair and grey eyes. Another shock of recognition went though Rian. For just a moment, he thought this boy was him or that he was the boy. The confusion passed. He knew what this creature was: the magic-spawn. His magic-spawn.
He closed his eyes and slipped into the magic-spawn's mind. Yes, the connection was there. All the knowledge was accessible to him—it was his own magic-spawn. Was the Arlunni a fool? Did he not know what the boy was?
Immediately, Rian began to plot. He would kill the mage first, he being the most dangerous—in one blast, if possible, but it might not be that easy. Doubtlessly, the young man was an apprentice or someone of a lesser power. And still, Rian couldn't remember who this person was, or how he knew him, so he'd just stun him; knock him out and question him. Maybe kill him afterward.
Rian had to find out what this place was and how he'd gotten here. He had to escape before the other Arlunni were alerted. He felt only rage and anger at all Arlunni. They were not to be trusted.
"Let me go!" he shouted at the mage, who only watched him with maddening curiosity.
Digging deep, Rian found some power, fueled by his rage. He shouted and snapped the metal chains, freeing his hands and feet. He struggled to sit up but his muscles were exhausted. Who knew how long he had lain in this dungeon? But, fortunately, the few precious seconds that were wasted by his clumsiness were not taken advantage of by the mage or his apprentice. They simply watched him.
Quickly, hoping to salvage the situation, Rian linked to his magic-spawn and mentally gave him an order. The boy turned to the mage, raised his hand and began to draw his life energy out.
This brought an unanticipated attack by the apprentice, who moved to the side and caught both Rian and the magic-spawn in a flurry of ice-darts, breaking both their concentration.
Rian's life-force command failed.
Furious, Rian cast a burst of flame on the apprentice, who fell back with a scream, damaged but not dead. Satisfied at catching him by surprise, Rian failed to see the mage cast a containment spell on the magic-spawn binding his magical energy up so that the boy couldn't cast any spells!
Spontaneously, Rian summoned a phantom blade but the spell was too much for him in his weakened condition. He couldn't hold it. The spell faltered and the blade vanished, giving the mage an opening to try and cast a confusion spell of some kind on Rian—as if he needed it. Already his mind felt confused. But Rian easily countered this, dispelling it before it reached him.
The mage had an amulet around his neck, the likes of which Rian had seen before. It drew its energy from a paravescea, which could be nearby. Rian reached out and drew power from the amulet, surprising the mage. With it, he once again summoned his phantom blade and charged the mage, hoping for a killing blow.
Again the apprentice interfered, hitting him with a gust of wind that unbalanced his attack, nearly knocking him over.
And in that time, the mage cast a containment spell on Rian.
"No!" shouted Rian. He wouldn't lose this easily. He had to escape this place before the Arlunni could complete whatever dark mission they had against him. He tried to dispel the holding spell, but just didn't have enough power.
He cast his mind around, looking for more power. Then he found it—the paravescea. With his mind, he grabbed hold of the energy there and drew it to himself. He easily dispelled the hold, and cast a sphere of shock at the mage and his apprentice. It racked them with pain, sending them reeling to the floor.
Rian looked down on them with satisfaction. Between the magic-spawn and the paravescea, they would not be able to stop him.
A sound to his right alerted him. He turned to see a short, adolescent boy standing alarmingly close to him. The boy touched Rian and muttered a sleep spell.
No! Such a simple spell.
He had no time to resist, though he fought to stay conscious. It was of no use. Soon the mage was on his feet. He came over and cast his confusion spell on Rian. This muddled his thoughts, making it impossible to stay awake. Then the mage cast another confusion spell, and another until Rian's mind sank back into darkness.
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