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I Will Have It


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#1 Laufey

Posted 30 July 2003 - 06:23 AM

I Will Have It

And so it comes back to this, the years having turned around the world in a full circle until we once more stand in this same place, facing one another. So long ago…only bits and fragments remain of those memories, like pieces of broken mirrors lodged in my brain. It has been quite some time since I had any use for mirrors, of course. Circles…the lives of the People are like that, in a sense. They are born, they live their long lives, year upon year as the seasons turn, almost changeless. But not quite eternal, no. They die eventually, passing into Arvanaith, going peacefully. Peacefully. I never could understand that, that passive acceptance. When your spirit burns like a firebrand amongst sedate candles, then acceptance is the last thing you consider. And burn I did, in more than one way. Why settle for the trees, no matter how beautiful, when you know in your heart that you can touch the sky and make the stars dance at your will? And I will. Soon, I will. They cannot stop me now. This time, the fire will be the divine one. This time, there will be no pain.

They. Them. Not we, not us. It has been a long time since I belonged here, among them. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did. Much of my early years are lost to me, I cannot recall for certain. And yet, it would be satisfying to remember how that belonging felt, for a few short moments at least. Perhaps, in this particular place, I can probe the dark well of my heart and pull some of the pale and wriggling things that lurk beneath the surface out into the sunlight.

Sunlight. Yes, there is sunlight, although it is a pure emerald green, filtered as it is through the thick canopy of leaves above. Perfect emerald green – like her eyes. She is watching me, of course. I do not look at her, not now. Not yet. I do not need that distraction to my concentration, not now when I am so close. When I am ready, then I will look at her. It will be most interesting to observe her reaction to my ascension. Will she weep? Plead? Rage? I cannot be certain, and that little uncertainty makes it all the more interesting to consider the possibilities. She will die in those final moments of triumph, I suspect. She is that closely bound to the Tree after all. As I drain its final energies, it is very likely that she will perish.

Ah, yes. The Tree. The Tree deserves a mention of its own, and to be remembered once it is gone. Every tree in the city of Suldanesselar is vast of course; capable of housing numerous elves in its wide branches, letting their shimmering dwellings nestle safely there. But the Tree of Life dwarfs them all, a venerable old giant of a tree, as vast as the city itself, and radiating ancient magic. Some say it was created at the same time that the elves themselves sprang into life, and perhaps that is even true. Elves live for a very long time, but even they have lost those memories. But what is known for certain is that she has a special connection to the Tree, through her sire, Rillifane the Leaflord. It is part of what enables her to rule here, her divine blood and the power that comes with it. Soon, she will regret ever exercising a particular aspect of that power.

We are both standing on a wide branch, as wide as a broad human street. The smooth wood feels warm beneath my feet, and there is a constant vibration in it, accompanied by a persistent electrical humming in the air. Now and then the branch seems to creak beneath me, the Tree groaning its useless protests against what will soon happen. I ignore it, as I ignore the magical explosions I can occasionally hear from the green depths far beneath us, as I ignore the faint echoes of screams from the city. As I ignore the wind whispering in the branches, hissing its spite. Traitor. Murderer. Betrayer. Thief. Non-Elf!

I sigh briefly, quirking my lips beneath the smooth leather mask that completely covers my face. How predictable. Once upon a time I might possibly have cared about those words, have been moved to guilt by them. I remember it was close, the last time. Not so now. The task at hand is what is important, and it has been a long time since the opinions of any others mattered in the slightest to me. Let the accusing voices rant impotently. They are unimportant to me now, and so I ignore them. I know what I want, and I will have it.

The last time, the last time was different. I failed; I fell, the firebrand burning in truth. The connection was broken too soon, the power too much for me to handle in its raw state. I should have died, but it did not happen. The power I had already siphoned off from the Tree, the power that was meant to make me a God, that power sustained me, keeping the burnt and withered husk of my body alive. I lived, only to face her once more. My gracious Queen. Once my lover, now my judge. The golden daughter of Rillifane, the child of the Leaflord, as beautiful as any goddess, as high above her subjects as they were above the ants crawling on the forest floor, or the fat worms wriggling beneath the rotting leaves. Oh yes, she loves her loyal subjects, her bright and loving pets. But they are not her equals, and nor was I, despite my fierce pursuits in the field of wizardry, despite meeting and exceeding anything that was expected of me, despite the endless toil and study. I would always be the pale moon orbiting her sun. As hard as I worked, as brilliantly skilled as I became, all my efforts could never match what she had by simple virtue of birth. Or could I?

The plan came to me gradually, in stages. At first it was a mere amusement, an intellectual exercise. I had no thought of actually doing it. Why, the idea was laughable. But then…a change came over the Queen, much as the first frost touches the leaves in the autumn there was a new coldness and distance in her demeanor. I tried denying it at first, but eventually I had to face the truth. She was losing her interest in me. The moments of closeness between us grew rarer and rarer, the arguments more frequent. And my sister carried whispered words to me, smiling slyly as she told me news of how the Queen’s eyes were turning elsewhere, towards the young Captain of the Royal Guard, Elhan. That is one memory that is still clear, the amusement in Bodhi’s blue eyes as she gleefully described each glance, each smile that had passed between the two. My sister was always fond of cat and mouse games, but she spoke true this time. I could see it myself, the woman I loved turning away from me little by little.

Love. The word echoes strangely in my mind, a hollow whisper in a dark cavern. I know I did love Ellesime – I can remember thinking about it. But I cannot feel it any longer. It has been a long time since even the memory of how it felt to love was eaten away by the curse. It was not I who loved the Queen. That was Joneleth, and the elf whom I was died centuries ago. Joneleth was weak, and so he failed in his quest to ascend, to become a God. He was clever enough to reason out how the draining of the Tree ought to be done, but he was weak. He could not bring himself to take the ultimate step, the once necessary to succeed. Fool that he was, he was still in love. I have no such hidden weakness. I should rejoice, for that is what will make me triumph in the end. But I do not. Joy is an emotion too.

The magic of the Tree is streaming into me, neatly siphoned off by the parasites I have set upon the tree, purified and concentrated through the spells I have put on her. Ellesime’s connection to the Tree, her blood tie with Rillifane, is insulating me, making certain I cannot repeat my mistake and draw more power than I can handle at once. Using her as a living filter of sorts is an eminently logical step to take. I cannot imagine how Joneleth could possibly have decided against it. I would denounce him for a fool, except that his mind is my own, and his intellect was intact, if muddled by whirling emotions, now as confusing to me as a text written in an alien language. You watch the strange letters knowing that they hold some meaning, but to you they are nonsensical gibberish.

Momentarily distracted by this idea, I turn towards the cage of magical energy imprisoning my former Queen. She is down on her knees by now, her head bowed. I hope she will last long enough to witness my success. I have planned this revenge of mine for quite some time, I do not intend to be cheated out of it by her death. But she will not will herself out of existence as she otherwise might, I believe she will cling to life. She knows that should I fail, should I burn again, then the city of Suldanesselar will burn with me, and this time she will not be around to put the flames out. Everybody will suffer. That is part of my revenge of course. That in order to save her little domain, she must aid me. How that must pain her. I shape my lips into another smile beneath the leather mask, ignoring the pain of charred flesh. It is a ghostly gesture. As I said, joy is an emotion too, but I remember that I once did feel joy at the thought of this revenge of mine, and I will have it.

There is an irony to be found here, I think as I proceed to drain the Tree further. Had she slain me outright as I was taken, then she would have been safe now. But no. She wanted something else. Something slower, more lingering. Something more merciful, something to make me regret my actions. Ah…as I think about it I can feel a trace of emotion still. Anger, lingering anger. Nothing like the poisonous wrath I felt immediately after the punishment was meted out of course, I cannot even recall how that felt now. Still, that hot little flickering flame of anger is a treasure to be savored, a curiosity to be studied. I look at Ellesime again, at the traces of white now marring her golden hair. She is withering, as I am, if for a different reason.

Severing my connection to the elven spirit, that was the punishment meted out. Sentenced to die a lowly human, the most humiliating and painful fate my Queen could think of. She was wrong, of course. Humans are also ruled by their emotions, as much or more so than elves. I am nothing like a human. I am less, and more, a pure intellect, unable to feel, disconnected from even the memory of what it was like. No, I am anything but human, and I have no desire to beg forgiveness at Ellesime’s feet. She should have known that after our time together, desire is very much an emotion. The same applies to guilt, regret or compassion. She raises her head and I meet her eyes, unblinking. After a few moments she looks away, Whatever she hoped to see, it is certainly not there. She ought to know that, she removed it herself.

Almost done now, I will very soon be able to drain enough power to finally free myself of this mortal shell and ascend as I should, a butterfly emerging from its twisted chrysalis. Almost…but wait? Something is amiss, the parasites have been tampered with, and now…somebody comes, breaking my concentration. I open my eyes fully, straining to see through the swirling magic around me. No! NO! I can no longer tap into the Tree, the final parasite has been destroyed. “What... who... WHO DARES?”

Of course. It is the one whose stolen soul has allowed me to linger here on this plane long enough to carry out my plan, the one who used to carry a spark of divine essence, the child of the dead god of Murder. The Bhaalspawn. The soul I took from the creature was an imperfect thing, despite the divine essence and energy, but it has served me well enough. That does not allow this Spawn the right to disrupt my plans though. “You,” I say, fixing the Spawn with my coldest stare. “You live yet? You have less than a fraction of your soul and yet somehow you continue to oppose me?” Frustration, a brief spark, one emotion I am still somewhat capable of. “he power... the power of the Tree is gone from me. You have been successful in your little scheme, insect, but now this ends!” I raise my hands, preparing to summon my magic, my eyes sweeping over the hostile faces of the Spawn and its companions. “I will take great pleasure in eradicating such a nuisance as you. And then I shall... re-establish my link, join with the Tree once again... I shall find a way, I shall have the power –“

“No Joneleth. You shall not.” Those carefully cultivated tones, that voice…so familiar. I turn around, and she is free, broken out of the confinement I had woven around her. Ellesime stands before me, barring my way, every inch of her the haughty monarch once more. “Yes, it is I, your Queen,” she says in reply to my unconscious question. “Twice, now, you have attempted this sacrilege and nearly destroyed us all. You will not do this again, Joneleth.”

That name. I will not suffer this. “Do not call me that!” I snap, the anger growing a little. I am not certain why, exactly, even as I try to analyze my reaction. “I lost all right to that name when the Seldarine stripped me of everything that was elven, as you well know!” I am focused on her now, aware of the Spawn and its companions only as dim blurs on the edge of my vision. They are insignificant compared to her, and I am well protected against all attacks.

She straightens up, her eyes spitting green fire. “And what shall I call you instead? 'Irenicus'? 'Shattered One'? Yes... it was a terrible punishment. But you violated everything we hold dear. You nearly destroyed us all! And for what? Power? Is that all that you exist for now, Jon?”

She does not know. She does not understand, still she does not understand. I did it for you. To be a proper match for you at last, my former Queen. To have your full attention at last. And is seems that I got it. “It is all I have now, Ellesime,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest, standing as tall and haughty as she does. I will not bow to her. Not this time. “There is nothing else beyond my revenge. Revenge for what you did to me, what the Seldarine did to me!” Yes. Revenge. I remember that I wanted that, that I wanted it very much. I cannot feel it as I used to, but that memory I still have. I will do what I can to keep it alive.

Her voice turns passionate, and even more commanding than before. “And your revenge has poisoned your heart. The Tree touched you once, long ago. Do you remember nothing of it? Is there nothing in your heart that remembers love?” She shakes her head, as if confused. “Is there nothing within you that remembers our love? What we once shared before this obsession doomed you?”

She is mocking me. She has to be. She cannot possibly be stupid enough not to realize the full extent of her punishment, can she? She must not be! Because if she is…then the love I once felt was a cruel joke, the idol I worshipped built on clay feet. Far better to believe that she mocks me on purpose than that I once felt a weakling fool’s love for a stupid woman. I speak slowly, measuring her reactions, trying to comprehend what is going on.

“I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried to. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory. But it is gone... a hollow, dead thing.” Yes. Experiments, many experiments. All useless, failed. A waste of time, that I could have spent on better things. “For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too.” It was slow. Slow and painful, the gradual deterioration of who I used to be, the frantic attempts to rekindle the dying emotions always failing, my self unraveling little by little. She ordered it, and she does not understand what she did? Then I will make her understand. “I look upon you and I feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others. Once my thirst for power was everything. And now I hunger only for revenge. And... I... WILL... HAVE IT!!” I mean every word of course. Especially about revenge. It is very close now, very close, though Ellesime has no idea of it. She thinks it was all about draining the Tree, that that was all I wanted. How little she knows. But she will learn.

Her eyes are blank, uncomprehending. “Then I pity you,” she finally says, her voice cold. “Would that you had used your stolen mortal years to earn your return to this sacred place. I could have loved you anew, as I loved the man you once were. But I see nothing of him here. You are Irenicus. And all that awaits you now is death.”

I meet her eyes fully, my own as impassive as hers, as devoid of emotion. “We shall see, my former love. We shall see.” I prepare for battle, but I feel the need for a final comment. “You had your revenge, my once Queen, in leaving me alive, in taking away what made me the person I once was. And in taking your revenge, you enabled me to have mine.” I watch her pale as she listens to the screams coming from the city. “Even should I fall here and now, you will always remember that, I think.” I carefully form my ruined lips into the mimicry of a smile; visible even beneath the mask that shelters me. I feel no joy, it is a carefully orchestrated gesture. “But should it pain you too much, then you know the cure. Perhaps in time, you will long to feel nothing.”

As I watch her shoulders sag a little, I nod to myself. Now she knows. Now she understands, at least partially, though full understanding will only come in time, if ever. I still mean to take the Tree, but even should I fail, I have had my revenge, as I promised her. I wish I could feel happy about it.
Rogues do it from behind.




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