Son of Sorrow, Murder's child has come... Options

[Colonel Mustard]

Seeing as every time I set out to write a story set in Tamriel I end up doing something that threatens to tear the structure of the nation apart, I though that perhaps I should maybe right something where that didn't happen. Then I thought, Oh sod it.

Son of Sorrow

Prologue

It is said that Mephala is without mercy, compassion or kindness. It is said that she relishes in the death of every living thing, and takes great joy in the despair of others.

This is not true.

Or at least, it isn’t fully true.

When the Ayleid people were destroyed, Mephala had revelled in the genocide that had ensued. Yet when the exterminations carried out by the newly formed ended and the elves were eventually accepted by society again, Mephala was angered, yet she knew that she could do nothing without angering the other Daedric princes.

So Mephala waited.

And then, after the Ayleid had been driven out, and replaced by the high elves, Mephala discovered that, contrary to imperial beliefs, one member of the Ayleid royal family lived. Barely out of infanthood, the young boy had been adopted by a pair of highly born High Elves. In a brutal attack on the house, Mephala sent her daedric minions to retrieve the child. When the watch arrived, the family had been slaughtered and the house burned to the ground.

So Mephala cared for and bought up the child the best she could, her blackened heart showing some semblance of mercy. She trained the child, enhanced and strengthened his body and skills through magic where training alone would not suffice. She sent him on missions, to hunt down and kill the most important members of society to wreak havoc and fear upon the world.

Mephala’s chosen assassin is able to strike in any place at any time, able to infiltrate any stronghold and eliminate the target with deadly speed.

He is the perfect assassin, the perfect killer.

He is the Son of Sorrow.

Marius took a deep swig of the brandy, allowing the strong alcohol to warm his cold body, before passing it to Gegran. The redguard accepted the flask gratefully, glad that he could finally warm himself after the long cold night shift at Anvil Castle.

“That’s good stuff,” he said. “Why didn’t you get it earlier?”

“Make it better when we have it,” Marius replied. “Come on, the night shift isn’t that bad. It’s a bit cold and boring but there are worse jobs we could be doing.”

Gegran had to agree. At least with the watch he could get good pay, three hot meals every day and a bed to sleep in.

There was a clink behind them, causing both watchmen to spin around.

The wall was empty.

Gegran laughed.

“Look at us,” he said. “Jumping at shadows. It was probably a rat.”

“Maybe we should go and take a look,” Marius said, looking nervous. “If someone got in on our watch the captain would have our hides.”

Gegran shrugged and drew his sword.

“If it makes you happy.”

The two men advanced towards the only entranceway to the castle on the roof, a thick wooden door. Gegran rattled the handle.

“Nothing here,” he said, sounding rather smug. “I told it would be…”

He was cut out by a whoosh and chink noise, then a scream.

Gegran span to see what the noise was and saw Marius clutching a stump where his arm had been. Dark red blood dribbled through his fingers. Gegran rushed over to his companion in a panic, but was stopped half way through by something speeding past him unnaturally fast. He slowed, suddenly unable to feel his legs, and he collapsed to his knees. He glanced down to see that somebody had somehow sliced a cut across his stomach, and blood was pouring freely through the cut in his chainmail.

Gegran collapsed forwards, his eyes wide with shock, unable to breath. A wracking cough caused his body to convulse, and blood dripped from his mouth as his eyes glazed.

Without ever seeing his killer, Gegran died.

Marius screamed as he saw his friend die. He frantically looked to the shadows in an attempt to locate the mysterious attacker, desperately trying to ignore the pain in his arm.

“Behind you,” someone whispered in his ears. Marius span, to see only empty wall.

“Missed me, I’m afraid,” came the same voice. Marius twisted to see a face, the lower half of it covered with a bandanna. It was that of a young man with scruffy blond hair that stuck out at all angles, and piercing blue eyes. Marius stared into them and couldn’t see any hint of mercy or remorse in them.

“Who are you?” he murmured, tears running down his face.

“Poor little thing,” his attacker crooned. “Why does it cry?”

He gently ran his hand along the side of Marius’ head.

“Is it sad?” he continued. “Is it hurt?”

“Get off me,” Marius cried, his vision beginning to blur. “Get off me, you madman.”

“I’m not mad,” the other man said, his tone offended. “Just very, very cruel. And you’re not. So that’s why we’re in this position now. Perhaps if you’d have been a bit crueller, a bit more ruthless, you might not be here right now, but could be sleeping safely now. It’s all your fault that you’re here now, and it’s my fault I’m here where I am. Because I am cruel, and so I’ll always be better than you.”

Marius tried to struggle away, but found his limbs leaden and heavy.

“You’re dying,” his attacker said. “Does it hurt? I’m glad I’ll never find out. You can’t kill me. No-one can. And you know what, it hurts to die, apparently. Please, tell me if it hurts.”

Marius could only nod.

“Good.”

Marius felt his keys be taken from him, and as his vision darkened he saw a figure walk away from him and unlock the door, all the while whistling a jaunty drinking song.

Alone and cold on the rooftop of the castle, Marius died.

This post has been edited by The Bean: Sep 18 2008, 09:16 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

Look, I don't want to sound bitter or anything, but I've posted up three parts and had no comments whatsoever, which is quite annoying as this is probably the best thing I've ever written. I've plunged my muse into depths of literature which it has never explored, and it has surfaced with the stuff that I personally think that a comment or two would be nice. I konw its a bit of moral blackmail, but please!

Part 5

As always, the wind screamed along the cobweb strewn tundra. As always, it stole away the warmth in Ainis’ body, but he ignored the discomfort. He simply needed to get to his home.

He pushed aside the curtain that served as a door to his cave and slung the girl he was carrying onto his bedroll. He crouched down on the stone floor next to her, removing his cloak and gently placed it over her.

His own behaviour puzzled him. Never before had he tried to help someone. Never before had he done something that could even be vaguely compassionate. Yet here he was, taking this girl in, caring for her, instead of leaving her to live a pointless and painful life back the real world.

Why?

Why now? Why her? What was he even thinking?

He couldn’t think of an answer.

Did he love her? No. He couldn’t love. All capability of being kind had been wrung out of him long ago. What was love? Nothing. It was empty, a lie people told themselves to give themselves a reason to live their lives. Love only happened in stories, and why should somebody believe stories that were not true?

People only knew fear and hate, and lied to themselves about love, in a pathetic attempt to make themselves feel secure. He hadn’t lied to himself about it. He had accepted the truth, accepted himself as a monster, and he never needed to lie to himself.

So why was he doing this?

He sighed, unable to find the answer, and crouched down next to her, examining the girl who fascinated him so much. He didn’t even know her, but he had taken her to a place where her wounds would heal without threat of infection, where she wouldn’t know sickness or hunger. He was one of a few granted such a privilege, and he never thought he would share it. He didn’t even know the girl’s name.

Throwing wood onto the fire, Ainis settled down to think.

#

Denya woke and instinctively tried to open her eyes, which seemed to be burning with pain. She couldn’t open them, however, and confused and disorientated she reached up to the lids.

A strong hand grabbed her arm, and an all too familiar voice spoke.

“Don’t touch them,” it ordered, and Denya remembered the last night in the chapel. She yelled as she recognised the voice and tried to struggle away. She thrashed her free arm in wild sweeps at her jailer, but it was grabbed by another strong hand.

“Get off me,” she shouted, beginning to panic. “What do you want from me?”

Her arms were released and she immediately fled away from the voice, first crawling on her hands and knees before scrambling to her feet and stumbling onwards, before slamming face first into the cave wall. If she hadn’t been so afraid she may have found it comical, but she simply tried to escape in the opposite direction, before someone grabbed her.

“Careful,” he hissed. “You nearly ran into the fire. Calm down.”

Denya struggled against the man’s grip, still yelling, but her sudden exertions had exhausted her. She had lost a fair amount of blood after her eyes had been removed, and she was beginning to get dizzy.

“Sit down,” the voice ordered, and Denya complied. She felt someone shift to sit down next to her, and she weakly attempted to push him away.

“You calmed down yet?” the voice asked. Denya nodded quietly.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe,” the voice answered. “My name is Ainis.”

“Why have you taken me here?” she continued. “Where is here?”

“Somewhere safe,” Ainis answered again.

“Where is this somewhere?” Denya asked, panic rising on her voice. “Tell me!”

Sensing that she was upset, Ainis decided to tell her the truth.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “But you won’t like it.”

Denya said nothing, just took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down.

“You know the planes of Oblivion,” Ainis said.

Denya nodded, beginning to fear that he was some kind of Oblivion cultist.

“You are in one now,” Ainis continued.

Denya gasped in surprise, and once again tried to scramble away from her jailer.

“For goodness sake,” Ainis cursed. “Just stay still. You’ll hurt yourself and I don’t want to tie you up!”

“What do you want with me?” Denya asked. “Why have you taken me to Oblivion?”

“Because you’ll be safe here,” Ainis said. “No Daedra will dare intrude into my home, and your wounds will heal without danger of infection or disease. You can’t die here, you won’t age, and you won’t need medicine.”

“Why am I here?” Denya asked again.

“I don’t know,” Ainis answered. “I usually kill anyone I come across on a mission, but not you. I don’t know why.”

“Why did you take my eyes then, if you weren’t going to kill me?” Denya asked, still agitated by her strange new companion. “Why did you do that?!”

“Because you were there,” Ainis said. “Because that was how I was brought up.”

“Who is your mother?” Denya asked.

“My mother?” Ainis asked. “She’s a Daedra. Not just any Daedra either. I was raised by Mephala. She told me to do things like that, what else could I do?”

Denya heard him say that, and suddenly saw through the psychotic that inhabited Ainis’ mind and discovered a frightened child, one screaming at the world in pure terror and lashing out at anything that came close. She remembered the chapel had once taken in a child who had been abused by her parents, who had been practically sold into prostitution by them. She hadn’t trusted anyone, had spent over two weeks hiding away from the world. But eventually, Denya had gained her trust, had helped her through the nightmares that invaded her sleep every night and helped her work into a normal life. Before she was kidnapped by Ainis, Denya had kept contact with the girl, had discovered that she was going to be married.

But she knew what she had to do.

She would have to reach this child in Ainis, help him to be a normal person. Perhaps she could awake some spark of goodness in him, maybe convince him to let her go back to her own world.

It could be hard, he had been driven to the brink of insanity many times, but Denya knew she had to try. Whatever it took, Denya would get herself out of this place and back home. All she needed to do now was find his weak point.