*The Fire Dying*
He fought with all he knew but he didn't know enough.
They claimed immortality and they claimed Longnight -
that the sun would shine for but a few hours each day,
and then they would reign, unchecked.
Cyran believed them. He was the last man standing.
Cyran stood naked before the assembly, the red blood of a lashing and
the black ink of his marking both stark against the pale flesh of his back.
He was too weak to cover himself, too weak to keep his eyes open to the
mages who sat before him on high seats in the shadowed room. Fear gave way
long ago to emptiness.
"Will you join us or not?" Bodris, their leader, sounded bored.
He had killed or ruined every mage who had joined him. "The power
of the dark can be yours. You can train just as you had -
on the magics of the night."
His men were brought in now, chained. They grunted to
conceal the pain of their bondage. Cyran heard a lash fall against
Ladvic and hid his cringe.
"If that is your answer?" Bodris did not let him respond. He
turned to the other mages. "Death for this one as well? And the
"Kill me and spare me your evil," Cyran mumbled, but they heard
Thursday, August 07, 2008
This came a little late, but I thought I'd post it anyway and see if you would like to add comments:
Posted by Sherryl Clark at Thursday, August 07, 2008