Nael

Nael - Chapter 1

Nael's blood boiled. His aching wrists had, once again, begun to rub raw against the cold steel of his manacles. He was restrained in such a way that the full weight of his body pulled against his arms and shoulders as they were shackled behind his back. Another thick length of chain secured connected his elbows, keeping them wedged tight against one another. The pain was constant but meant nothing to him. He would be free of this prison; Nael would find a way.

Nael's pumpkin-colored pupils, yellowed irises, and bloodshot corneas shot murderous looks at the imperforated darkness of his cage. His nightmare-inspiring visage and unnaturally-colored, crimson skin were testaments to the evolution and potency of his magic. He was quite powerful; his dedication to his craft was superseded only by his skill. Despite his depth of power, his ability to cast offensive magic was only possible while his body was in contact with God Stone, of course, and he had none of the divinely-blessed material in his possession.

Sorcerers, wizards, and witches made highly-valued jewelry and other artifacts of power from the sacred stone as part of their elevation requirements to be considered a full master of their craft. Nael's God Stone ring had been stolen from him.

His mind churned on this, poking and prodding at it like a rancid pot of stew. An increasing sense of defeat and futility threatened to swallow him whole, a vast leviathan of the sea breaking its fast upon a lone row-boat. Is this how I die, then? His head drooped as he sagged against his bonds. What was he really going to do? How had been so stupid? He was trussed like a hog awaiting roasting. His magic simmered and popped inside him, but it remained ineffectual in altering his current circumstances without a God Stone conduit.

His people would simply think him defeated; they would not come looking for him. To make matters worse, he had no idea where he had awoken to after the unexpected amputation of his left hand that cursed night.

He had been betrayed: brought low by the hands of unwisely-trusted 'companions.' Jayna and Red. Even thinking their names left a foul, fetid taste creeping down his parched throat. The twins—self-proclaimed 'warriors of great renown'—had shown up during a heated battle Nael had been fighting against a cabal of hedge wizards and had helped to turn the tide in Nael's favor. He had accepted their offer to return to with him to his fortress, and so the beautiful and deadly twin siblings had joined him on the week-long return trek. They had camped at several inns along the route and it was one such inn, with the journey just two days from completion, where they had made their move.

Jayna had been making none-too-subtle advances towards Nael in the days—and nights—leading up to that fateful evening. At first, he had been oblivious to the double meanings behind many of the things she said to him. Eventually though, with enough effort and conspicuousness on her part to seduce a crowded tavern, he had finally become aware of her intentions. Amazed the huntress had apparently been willing to look past his horrendous appearance and desired a more...intimate...knowledge of who he was and blinded by her uncommon beauty, he had allowed himself to be seduced. Jayna's piercing lavender eyes, heart-shaped face, and soft, full lips had promised Nael an unforgettable evening as he had followed her through the crowded tavern's common room and on up to one of the two rooms their party of three had leased for the evening. Inside, they had drunk several cups of a sweet, southern red wine. He had failed to detect the taste of the drugs his cups had been laced with.

After the wine, she had then invited him to the bed with her where she had kissed him deeply, all cinnamon and raspberry, and invited his hands upon her body's curves. She had then removed his tunic, revealing his lightly-muscled chest; his smooth, red-tinted skin gleaming in the candlelight like a freshly-plucked apple. She pushed gently on his shoulders until his back was flat against the straw mattress, and then climbed atop him...and then...began tying his limbs to the bedposts. He had a moment of fear and doubt but this was quickly replaced by even more excitement—if that was possible. She really knows what she's about! He had told himself with a wide grin. Much to his dismay, however, she had then unsaddled him and called out to someone—someone else—and Red had entered the room along with several other black-cloaked men. By that point, the drugs had finally begun taking effect.

Nael was in an addle-minded stupor and tethered to the bed; he could offer little in the way of defense. Within seconds of them surrounding the bed, one of the men had stepped forward wielding an ax (not the kind used for cutting wood, either) and he had shut his eyes against the incredible burst of pain. He screamed and tried to curl over onto his side as he opened his eyes. They slowly lost focus as they started at the growing puddle of fresh blood surrounding his unattached appendage —as it lay prone on the wooden floor—the fingers curled back to point at him as if in accusation.