Arctic Blog

Daily updates on what the fork I'm up to and also the news I see fit to report.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Probably crap, but a page from the book I'm trying to write...

It's fantasy obviously. This is an excerpt. The character, Zephyr, because of his greed, gained incredible power and knowledge in magic, that was not meant for him. He is forced to atone by being a powerful battlemage, but he hates war and killing more then anything else. Thus this makes it a proper punishment... He fights on the same side as my protagonists.

I was the linchpin in this battle, the one who might be able to turn it in our favor with my magic. I realized that any victory we may pull out of this would be pyrrhic in nature, but it would keep some of us alive, for another day anyway.
I drew deeply on Zelas, the magic of sky and air, let it fill me to the verge of being torn apart, by the raw wild magic of the wind. I wove the Flows before me into a hideous tapestry. A tapestry that, when I cut the Ties that Bind, could bring nothing but pain and death to those who stood in its path. I pressed the weave out in front of me until its Ties to me grew taught. I was overwhelmed with sadness and regret, as I mentally created the psychic knife that would sever the Ties that Bind. This was the price I had to pay for seeking power and lore that I was never meant to have. This anguish was my atonement for my greed, as I was forced to kill again, and yet again.
I cut the weave free, and closed my eyes for what good that did me, because I still saw it all with my mind's eye. This is what I saw. The weave surged forwards, like a hunting Kaoran desert cat chasing down its prey. It had started small, but in seconds had expanded to the width of the horizon. An enemy mage sensing the attack threw up a magical barrier. My weave struck the barrier and tore through it like so much paper. It struck the first rank of the enemy soldiers.
This was the part I dreaded the most, and I could not hide the sight from myself. My weave broke over them, like a tidal wave, only less merciful. As it washed over the first ranks, they were engulfed in a total void. All the air rushed away from them. The bodies, I can not think of them as people and still maintain my sanity, exploded into so much flesh, bone, and blood. The sound was hideous. They did not scream, no the one mercy of this magic is, that death is almost instant. It was more like a squishy popping sound. Which made it all the harder to bare. In my mind I could see it all.
The enemy soldiers had outnumbered us three to one, but with my one attack I had decimated nearly a quarter of their number. I staggered on my feet, and silently beseeched the goddesses to take consciousness from me. No such mercy was to come to me however.
The battlefield was strangely quiet. Neither side had yet engaged when I unleashed death, I can think of it no other way, upon our enemies. With that thought the silence was shattered by the winding of a horn. On that sound the remaining enemy ranks woke, as if from a trance, and charged towards us.
I had hoped against hope, that they would retreat, fall back, or even just hesitate, in the face of the magic I had just used. If I could only be so fortunate. It did not happen. I was dizzy and disoriented. However much to my own sorrow, I knew the I still was able to shape a second weaving.
Once again I drew upon Zelas, emptying my being for it to fill. This time was different though. Suddenly, instead of being filled with power, I felt gales and torrents rip through my body. In a tiny corner of my mind, the part that was still thinking intellectually and not hell bent on survival, I realized I had finally been granted my wish. I had drawn in far more power then my body could contain, and thankfully I would finally be allowed to die.
The goddesses are not that merciful. The animal instinct in me, striving ever to survive, took control. I unleashed in front of me, all of the torrents of power, that were contained within my body.
This time however, I did not have to witness what my power did. The blessed darkness of oblivion, fell upon me. I knew no more.


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