Nezzar

Part Two: The King Is Not Mad

You should kill the guard before you take your wife.

Along with the voice's suggestion was a rise of boiling indignation and a drive to destroy all within Nezzar's path. This should be his thought at all times. I hold all the power. I destroy all that stands before me. And those visions of Amytis dead. Those visions no longer terrified him. There was something he must do to her.

"Since you would not come to me, I will go to you," Nezzar said.

Bounding forward with a snarl, Nezzar's aim was the guard.

The guard snatched Amytis by the arm and dashed forward.

Their retreat only fuelled Nezzar's desire to chase. As he rushed after them, exhilaration rushed through his veins, and fierce determination drummed in his heart. His wife possessed something the voice wanted. He must get it at all costs.

They took a sharp bend. Nezzar stumbled to a fall and crashed into a wall. Snarling, he sprung to his feet immediately and resumed the chase with firmer determination. Soon, he covered the distance.

Amytis was too slow. She had always been weak, that one. Caught up in the thrill of the chase, he dashed this way and that, snapping at her heel and swiping at her back. Enjoying the sound of her terrified sobbing.

You shouldn't play with your food.

I should not. It was time to end this.

Amytis spared a backward glance when Nezzar moved to slash at her middle. At the sight of her weeping face and terrified eyes, something within him faltered, causing him to hesitate for a fraction of a moment. And in that moment of foolishness, the guard threw himself before Amytis.

Nezzar's claws ripped through the flesh of the guard's arm. When he aimed another strike at him, Nezzar felt a dull pain on his arm. He looked at the spot and blinked at the small dagger jutting from his arm.

Raising his eyes to meet Amytis, Nezzar smiled. "I thought I told you where to aim to cause damage. Do not tell me you wish to preserve my life." Ripping out the dagger, he flung it aside. "How weak."

When the bleeding guard grabbed Amytis to resume their run, Nezzar reached out and snatched her by the hair.

"Who permitted you to leave?"

Nezzar flung her against the wall, effectively silencing her irritating scream.

Do it now. Kill the child she carries. Give it to me.

Clawed fingers twitching, Nezzar stepped forward and raised his hand to strike. Someone crashed into him, slamming him to the ground before delivering a heavy blow to the side of his head. Before he could recover, another blow descended and rocked his brain within his skull.

This guard. His strength almost seemed supernatural.

When Nezzar went for another swipe, the guard struck him at the side of the head with a third blow. The force of the strike was so heavy that Nezzar was rendered dizzy.

Nezzar's vision turned clear. What was happening? Blinking hard, he forced his eyes to focus on the scene around him.

"Princess," the guard yelled as he ripped off Nezzar.

Frowning, Nezzar struggled to think. Why was he in the hallway of his palace? He could hear music in the background and the voices of merrymaking guests. Something was not right. Just now, he had been with Amytis, and they had been talking. A still form caught his attention—that dress.

Why was Amytis lying on the ground? His heart sank. Was that blood on her face?

Though Nezzar wished to speak, he found he was unable to. As he stood there contemplating, a terrifying possibility began creeping in at the same pace red resumed eating at his vision.