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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Fantasy · #933987
The prologue to my fantasy novel. Working title is "Tragic."
Darkness filled his soul, and his heart was decayed by his punishment for what he had done. Now the consequences of his actions would be eternally worse. He had crossed Her.

His silver eyes stared at the dark cobbled stone. Cold water dripped down from small holes where the ceiling and the wall of stone met. He sat upon a stone table, which he also was forced to use as a bed. This table was situated in the center of the small cell. A torch on either side of his cell door provided the only light in this decrepit room.

Facing in the opposite direction of the cell door, he sat upon the table staring at the water slowly dripping from the ceiling, flowing down the wall and splashing into ever-so-small puddles once colliding into the ground.

His current thoughts consisted of what he had done and his capture by Her soldiers. He was jarred from his thoughts when a loud voiced boomed through the door. “It’s time to see the Lady.”

The sound of a key entering the keyhole and turning to unlock the cell door echoed throughout the room. He listened as the guard repeated that six more times. They certainly did not take any chances with him. Once the door creaked open, a guard entered. He did not see the man, for he was still facing the other way.

“Stand and raise up your hands over your head,” the guard commanded. The prisoner stood and rose up his chained hands. The guard who spoke did a quick body search while another guard stood watch.

“He’s clean,” said the guard. “Now let’s go. Her Ladyship does not take kindly to being forced to wait.”

He led the prisoner out of the cell and into the cellblock. The other guard followed behind with his sword drawn.

As he passed each cell he looked upon the inhabitants. The prisoners were all peering through the bars to catch a glimpse at their hero. They looked upon him with honor. He was the one who defied Her. They knew all he had done and now could only imagine the worst damnation for his punishment. Some yelled out words of respect and admiration but were quickly silenced by the looks of wrathful guards.

“Funny how a state official’s only friends are filthy, violent criminals,” spoke the guard behind the prisoner. Both of the guards laughed.

At the end of the cellblock hallway, they came upon a corridor. There a path went straight. To the left were stairs going down and just the opposite was to his right. “Up,” said the guard who led him. He pushed him ahead and drew his sword. The prisoner walked up the spiral staircase with the two guards following closely behind him. Two hundred steps led them to a hallway. At the end of the hallway were large wooden double doors guarded by two soldiers. They nodded when the three approached and opened the doors.

The two guards leading the prisoner came up on either side of him and led him into the throne room. Before them was a red colored carpet that led them towards the end of the room where two people stood and one sat upon a large throne made of black bone. They passed golden treasures and beautiful tapestries that filled the room on their way to the prisoner’s destiny.

The pathway stopped five yards before the throne. The two guards let go of the prisoner and stood behind him with swords drawn.

To the left of the Lady stood General Deniel Hartigan, of the Desolate Army. He was just inches over six feet, had black hair and was slightly unshaven. He was wearing a black uniform and had a holster holding a firearm. To the left of the Lady stood the most beautiful girl the prisoner’s eyes had ever seen. Her hair was long and golden and flowed down to the middle of her back. Her eyes the shiny green of emeralds and her dress was as azure as a cloudless summer sky. Her face was delicate and pure. Upon her back were white wings and over her head was a shimmering golden halo. The Lady’s angel stood, gazing upon the prisoner and smiled. It warmed his heart and made him forget about his impeding doom for that very short moment.

And in the middle sat the Lady Jezebel, known to anarchists and those who just plain don’t like her as Lady Deceit. She had long black hair that matched her black eyes. She wore a long black dress and her face was veiled. No one outside of those of high rank had ever seen her actual face.

“Bow down!” Commanded one of the guards. The prisoner continued to stand. A look of anger appeared on the guard’s face. “Do you dare defy her Grace?”

“Yes I do,” the prisoner spoke.

The smile upon the angel’s face receded into a frown. One of the guards kicked him on the back of the legs and he collapsed to the ground in pain.

“Here he is your Grace,” said one of the guards.

“Leave us please,” She spoke. The two guards bowed and turned, walked to the door, opened them, and walked out closing it behind them.

“I finally have the pleasure to meet the famous Alistair Seeker,” Lady Jezebel said, smiling. “After what you have done, it is hard to believe that you were the head of the Arkha Plane Order. Actually working for me. What happened to you?”

He remained silent.

“Then you and your little whore create that damned Shadowed Star Key. That alone would be a cause for death. Nevertheless, you continued to defy my will by using it to open every existing plane gateway in our land, spewing forth, unknown abominations, and leaving a door to my land open for those damned gods. Thanks to you, many Arkha soldiers have lost their lives fighting creatures your little prank had set upon my land. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The prisoner spit. “I am nothing short of proud for what I have done to you, Lady Deceit!”

“I am sure you will be delighted to know how exhilarating it was to personally torture that little harlot of yours. Her will broke quite easily.”

His face got red with anger. And he made to stand but the angel lifted her hand and held it at the halting position and his body froze back in place.

“What you did is too great to deserve death. I cannot let you off with such easy of a punishment. No, I’m sending you and your whore to a nice little prison I created just for political criminals such as yourself. But to make it even more enjoyable for you, I erased the girl’s memory. Even if you find her in the massive prison, she will never know who you are. She will be lost to you for all eternity.”

The Lady looked at the angel and she nodded. She pressed a round black button imbedded in the wall behind her. The whirring of machinery was heard and two small, round poles slowly came down from the ceiling and two came up from the ground, connecting to create a circle. Electrical power surged through the poles and the circular space began to shimmer.

“Isabella,” the Lady said, “Would you please escort Alistair to his new home?” She nodded and walked down to where the prisoner was. He stood, and she took his hand and led him to the portal.

Alistair turned to the Lady. “Jezebel of Deceit, I will make it my life’s work to find you. I will make you suffer for your existence.”

The Lady smiled, “Then I wish you good luck.”

Alistair stepped through the portal.

“Isabella, I want you to go as well and keep an eye on him. He is different from any lawbreakers I have encountered. Make sure he does not see you. I want weekly reports and I also want you to make sure he never finds the gateway back.”

“As you wish, your Grace,” Isabella spoke. She turned and stepped through the portal.

The Lady stood up and walked to the black button and pushed it. The electrical charge desisted and the poles receded back to their hiding place.

“Give me the Shadowed Star Key,” she said to General Hartigan. He retrieved the key from his pocket and handed it to Jezebel. “You are now excused to enforce my Sabbath hour.”

“Yes your Grace,” he bowed and then exited.

Lady Jezebel twirled the key around her fingers. “See you soon, Alistair. For you shall bow and worship me if you wish for me to cease the torment I shall wreak upon you.”
© Copyright 2005 Anamnesis (anamnesis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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