The Conquest of Mytheyr
Chapter 22

This Dark Elf was… interesting. His appearance wasn’t much, just your average generic Dark Elf, ash-gray skin and white hair, and Semele felt nothing extraordinary emanating from him; however, Semele’s senses were dulled by his venomous magic, and what was obvious to Morgan was trifling to him.

But he was interesting because a knife meant for Morgan had pierced him, wasting precious poison. But then, Morgan exhausted herself trying to heal him. Semele chuckled to himself. He knew his dreams had been working, as a fully capable Morgan would certainly have recognized the poison’s properties as she tried to heal it, and wouldn’t have wasted so much Light magic on such a useless endeavor. Still, it had worked to his advantage. He had both Morgan and a defenseless insight into what she had been doing. Still, he was curious… what made him so special? Why was she with him, of all Dark Elves, he being a faceless nobody?

“Wake up.” Semele demanded.

A strange, terrifying voice invaded Vath’s mind, piercing through the darkness and surrounding him, leaving no possible escape.

“Wake up!” it demanded again and forced him to obey, dragging him out of the blackness with a terrible jolt as everything restarted at once. Vath eyes went wide as dragging air into his lungs became the most painful thing in the world, each breath like thousands of needles pressing into the soft tissue, and his heart beat as if it would explode, thundering against his chest. But the pain was only brief, and after a few seconds he was well enough to jump to his feet and meet eyes with the stranger that had been standing over him.

The first thing that struck Vath was how pale the stranger was. His skin was pale and waxy, his hair white blonde and his eyes had a strange, almost ethereal look to them, as the pale blue seemed to glow slightly.

“Interesting potion, isn’t it?” he said to Vath. “The heart beats only three times a day under its influence, and it keeps its victim in a state alike to death. After a week or so, the victim will die. And, apparently, it’s convincing enough to fool her.”

“Who are you?” Vath growled, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“You do not know? Then your rudeness will be forgiven, but only this time. I am the king of Mytheyr.” he replied haughtily.

Vath made a motion for the knife that resided in his boot, but his fingers found only empty air. Suddenly, before Vath could blink, his back was against the wall, the breath knocked out of him. Semele held Vath by the neck, grinning as if Vath had done exactly what he had hoped he’d do.

“Intending to harm your king? Now, that will not be so soon forgiven. But I can’t kill you just yet. You might still be useful.”

Semele’ eyes darkened into black, and tendrils of pitch black rose from him, twisting and fading like smoke.

“Show me your memories.” he commanded. This was the power gained by studying the Second School of the mind, the manipulation of the minds of others. Those with basic abilities could view the most important memories a person had, and masters in the art could replace and see any memory, even if the subject could not recall it themselves. The dreams Semele used against Morgan where also a part of the Second School, but a very different discipline. Semele hadn’t put as much time into infiltrating memories as he had into invading the consciousness. However, Vath, who did not know how to defend against it, was entirely vulnerable.

Vath was shocked as the dismal cell faded, replaced by the latest image he had of his father, smiling at him.

“I’ll be back, little one.” his father promised him, “And then I’ll teach you how to throw knives, alright?”

The memories raced forward in a colorful blur, and paused at him and Morgan’s first meeting.

“I mean, look at you!” Morgan’s voice rang out clearly. “A Canteior and a Merax. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke… or of a great story.”

It was fast forwarded again, as Semele knew nothing of the meaning of those words, nor did he care, and he rested on another conversation with Morgan.

“That’s exactly what it is. Well, in your eyes, I see someone who had something life changing happen to them, but otherwise, nothing else has happened since. Like you’re waiting for the world to replace you. I think that it probably explains why you wander alone in the desert instead of living in a town with friends and family.”

“Useless.” Semele’s voice muttered. “Why do all your critical memories involve her? Conspiracies. Plans. Do you know nothing?”

“Crossbow, target.” Morgan said, pointing at the tree. “Line up your target with the bottom of this V,” she tapped the metal sight, “then pull the trigger. Don’t aim with one eye closed; it throws off your perspective.” Vath lifted the crossbow. It was heavier then he expected, and his shot landed far left of the place he was aiming for. Semele impatiently moved forward.

“How good are you with magic?”

“I… uh…” Vath blushed and looked down. “I really… can’t do any magic. I’ve tried. But I… just can’t.”

Semele’s laughter shattered through the memory, echoing painfully in Vath’s head, his cruel voice like a knife.

“Can’t perform magic? How utterly pathetic.” he laughed, unable to contain himself. “Perhaps you are useless after all. But, why then, were you with her? What makes her think you’re so special? What are you not showing me?”

Semele went forward again, pausing on the last memory Vath had before he blacked out.

“No…” Morgan sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. “Please work… don’t leave, Vath… please…”

“She seems to have grown attached to you, hasn’t she?” Semele scoffed, interrupting the memory. “Really, her constant proximity to her inferiors is sickening.” Vath’s heart beat was almost gone. Her magic couldn’t heal whatever this poison was. She couldn’t even replace what the poison was attacking.

“Vath… please.” she sobbed, bending over him. Even though her face was damp with sweat and tears, and her eyes were gray with exhaustion, in that moment she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I… I saw the way you looked at me… I want you to know…”

“No…” Semele whispered in shock. “Not you.”

“I was falling in love with you, too.”

Semele shattered through the memory, and Vath was forced back into the cold, gray cell. Semele, with unnatural strength for his stature, flung Vath across the tiny room. A short cry was forced out of his lungs as he hit the other wall, and he fell onto his hands and knees, trying to chase the last traces of Semele’s invasive voice out of his mind.

“She can never love you!” Semele shrieked, his face a violent scarlet. “You, a simple plebian, far beneath her! How… how could she…”

Semele rushed out, flinging the door open and it slammed itself shut behind him. The lock clicked into place as Semele’s heavy footsteps retreated down the hall.