History
The Story
10th of Summer 508AV
He was coming near. Zelohaad had been running from the man for hours. But he was running out of places to hide. He stood against the cold brick wall panting, and trying to prepare himself for the next stage of his flight. It was only a matter of time before his master caught him. Zelohaad did not know these streets, where as his master knew them like the back of his hand. He would be found and then his story would be ended.
His breath had started to calm when Zelohaad heard the growling of dogs. When he turned to run he saw his master. There was nowhere to run. So with a growl filled with terror he launched himself upon his master. He was met with a cold stare, the man waved his hand dismissively and walked away. Then a pain was felt in the back of his head. He started to fade into blackness, the world around him going dark. But at the same time he was being lifted as if out of something, as if he were under water and being rescued. Fear gripped the mind of Zelohaad once again, he was being pulled out of reality.
Then he woke…
Sitting bolt upright from his sleep, Zelohaad was in a deep sweat. He could not tell if this reality was truly where he was, or if he was in another dream. If this was indeed reality the same dream had occurred to Zelohaad every night for a week. It was beginning to wreak havoc on the mind of the Benshiran guard. He was a loyal servant of a low ranking member of the house of the North Winds. He had served faithfully for years, and yet these dreams seemed to indicate that they did not hold the same loyalty towards him. Indeed it pointed towards the opposite, which was not something that Zelohaad could accept. He had served the house faithfully, even to the extent of accomplishing deeds that were kept under the carpet so to speak. They certainly wouldn’t choose to betray him after such services.
However much he tried to deny the growing dread it grew consistently. So much so that with every passing glance he saw hatred. He became filled with a sort of paranoia, always looking behind him when he entered a room. He started avoiding his masters, keeping a distance between himself and them. When they questioned him all he could see was hate in their demeanor. His dreams were fast becoming his reality.
14th of Summer 508AV
A life filled with terror and the feeling of betrayal is not a pleasant one. Zelohaad had spent the last few days rushing through his duties so that he could go back to the safety of his room. Where he found solace from the betrayal of his masters, only to be met with the terrors of sleep and with sleep dreams.
The dreams did not fade with time, rather they grew more vivid. Every time he slept his conditions grew worse. He was now on the brink of madness, seeing hate and lies in everything. He had taken to muttering in corners, and staring from dark sleepless eyes at any who dared look his direction. He was becoming a phantom of his previous self, for he had ceased going to meals with any group. Instead he chose to scrounge whatever food he could while on duty. The men who had called themselves his friends had began to desert him, not wanting to be caught as the friend of a madman. However Zelohaad could see none of this. He could only accept that his friends knew of the betrayal and were distancing themselves from him to avoid a similar punishment.
After another sleepless night he decided that betrayal must be met with betrayal. He could no longer stand by in fear as his masters plotted his doom. No, he would catch them before they had a chance to pounce.
He spent the next few night plotting. It would soon be his turn to guard the door of the eldest son of the family. That was when he would strike. He would open the door, draw his knife, and plunge it into the heart of the boy. His demented mind ran over this one sequence over and over throughout the day. He told himself over and over of their treachery, convincing his conscience that life and revenge must be greater than death and loyalty.
When it came time to guard his master’s door Zelohaad’s mind became still. It was as if the very gods willed this to plan to come into fruition. He stood on duty as he had done for many years, although his mind was in a different place entirely. He waited impatiently for the house to sleep. It was near three in the morning when the house was still enough to convince Zelohaad that it was time to strike. So he cautiously pushed back the hangings that lay before his master’s room. He walked slowly, painfully slowly towards the side of the bed. He paused often and stood attempting to discern if anyone was watching him. When he finally came to his master’s side a single tear fell down his cheek, but it fell in time with the blade of his dagger. Both landed on the bed of the Eypharian youth, both left a mark of moisture.
16th of Summer 508AV
He had been running for the last two days, he had started the moment his dagger had pierced the heart of his late master. He ran with the speed of terror, he must not be caught doing this. However this terror was mingled with both a fierce pride born of his successful murder, and a feeling of release. He had finally accomplished what the dreams had shown him was necessary.
However there was one feeling that dwarfed all others, the need for water. The desert is not and never will be a friendly place for a fugitive. He had no food and no water. His survival now depended on the how long Zelohaad could keep a cool head, unfortunately his cool had already vanished. He was having wild hallucinations again, but this time they were varied and brought on by the heat of the desert sun.
In this dream he saw a man, he was terrible but beautiful to behold. His hand beckoned Zelohaad to come to him, he held a jug of water in his hand. His heart rising in his chest Zelohaad rushed towards the stranger stumbling dehydration. When he reached the benevolent stranger, he was handed the water jug. As he began to drink Zelohaad wondered at the texture of the water, it felt thick in his mouth. As he drank deeper it began to choke him and he fell to the ground writhing, but the jug seemed as if it had attached itself to the benshiran’s throat. There was no escape.
The strangers eyes burned into his, tearing out every deed that Zelohaad had ever committed. He could feel his very soul under the scrutiny of the man. Then came the touch, he bent down and touched his finger to Zelohaad’s shoulder. It seared like a burning iron and Zelohaad screamed out as he was suddenly free from the water. The pain grew in intensity, growing so strong that Zelohaad’s eyes began to see spots of black the pain continued for what seemed like an eternity. Zelohaad began to pray for death rather than to continue feeling this torture. But just when it seemed like death would take him, everything stopped. The whole world seemed to stand still, and a wave of pleasure swept over the Benshiran quickly bringing him into a much needed rest.
Upon waking the Zelohaad found himself in a tent. He could hear the sounds of his native tongue, he had been rescued by a member of his own people. He had been through the horrors of the desert and had escaped at the end of his rope unscathed, or so he thought. Upon his right shoulder lay a fresh scar…. |
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