Burden moi
Chapter 1
"Give us your belongings and I will spare your life", the oldest threat of all. A promise of exchange. Self, for a sacrifice. As empty as the stomachs of those who surround, hungry and outcast.
"Surely, a lost traveler like you knows the price of crossing these lands. Your belongings NOW!", the escalation of threat. Most barbaric. But what choice do they have? These creatures are shaped by their circumstances, poor as they are. All violence and base hunger.
"It is true that I am lost. But what I am not, is helpless." Surprise. Voice still works. Grates like sand on parched throat, but my voice nonetheless.
Should not have come to this. Path was to be deserted. No distractions. So close, it hurts. But path blocked. Will exert energy needed elsewhere. But to give up what I carry? Not optimal. Needed elsewhere. Needed more there, than here.
"Last warning, old man. You die, one way or another."
Heh. Old man. Show them what experience and steel can do to youth and flesh. Show them now.
Not as much energy as estimated. Enemy weak and hungry. Gone, like chaff before wind.
Much is lost in this world. Like me. But some things not easily lost. Like darkness. Or her. She follows, sniffing at footsteps, always ready to strike at weakest moment. But funny. She, who follows one who is lost, is not lost. For my steps are her steps and he, who is lost, guides her. Most funny.
Keep moving. Clean blade. Taste smell of victory. Recoil from stink. Bad blood. Sad blood. Old blood now. Mixed with sand and dirt.
Chapter 2
Bare ground breeds simple beings. Of feeding and shelter. Abundance corrupts. Rituals of dominance and decadence. Man with water wishes for wine. A thirsty man is easily satisfied. But a man in an oasis is never sated. Always reaches for more. Man in village is satisfied being strong over a few dozen. Kings always fight. Always insecure. All fight each other over petty baubles they can neither eat nor drink.
Farmers satisfied with rain for crop. Priest dissatisfied with unending tithe. Gods fight for power. Poor only seek scraps. Easy to control the oppressed.
Kings and clowns alike know the above. Use poverty as weapon. Give them morsels and make them grateful, while coffers overflow with taxes.
Trundle onward. Destination neither far nor near. Exactly where it needs be. Not useful for me. But burden needs delivering. Deliverance always heavy load. Thought of lives lost because of slow step or steep incline. Bothers me. Itches beneath skin. Unscratched. Adjust load, take one more step. All I can do.
The sun sinks beneath red clouds. Not good omen. For someone. I only know the next step. I feel safe. For now.
She follows.
Good.
Farmers satisfied with rain for crop. Priest dissatisfied with unending tithe. Gods fight for power. Poor only seek scraps. Easy to control the oppressed.
Kings and clowns alike know the above. Use poverty as weapon. Give them morsels and make them grateful, while coffers overflow with taxes.
Trundle onward. Destination neither far nor near. Exactly where it needs be. Not useful for me. But burden needs delivering. Deliverance always heavy load. Thought of lives lost because of slow step or steep incline. Bothers me. Itches beneath skin. Unscratched. Adjust load, take one more step. All I can do.
The sun sinks beneath red clouds. Not good omen. For someone. I only know the next step. I feel safe. For now.
She follows.
Good.
Chapter 3
Road stretches on. No distractions. Mind wanders. Old fable.
Mule part of 5th Supply Company of the 2nd Imperial Army, marching on the Sand kingdoms. Distant war. Geas laid upon mule by mage to carry provisions. No escape. Whispered in ear and anchored to soul. Mule trundles on, behind army. Dutiful animal.
As they approach battlefield, fox litter found near oasis. Kids and cubs. All butchered for meat and skin. Skin stretched on mule's back for curing and left.
Army finds army. Violence begets violence. Raiders fall upon supply company. Mule runs to safety. Geas allows seeking of personal safety.
Reaches oasis. Drinks deeply. Interrupted by eyes in the dark. Slinking shape, close to ground. Fox mother returned to death of children. Skin hanging from mule.
Clever mother, but foolish father. Charges mule in anger. Mule crushes skull. Mother stays and watches. Follows mule, when leaves.
End of story? Moral? Unknown. She still stalks. She follows. Fable as old as words drying upon scroll, freshly written.
I am the mule. Soldiers killed children, added geas to carry burden to destination. Defeated sand king surrendered, but attacked on sight of children's scalps hanging from hand. Had to defend self. Geas does not allow death after all. Not peaceful, at least. No interest in becoming shambling mule, chasing life and death, like chasing sun and moon. Defend self well. Crush King's skull. Lucky. Queen only stares. Knows.
She waits then. Accepts and surrenders kingdom. Left to rule in name only. Puppet dancing on chains. But clever Queen. Sacrifices remaining handmaidens and guards to dark powers. Seeks power over man who carries scalps and skulls. Bargain made. Only to have strength over me at one given point of time. Time unclear. Of her choosing or my weakness.
She follows. Adds a little speed to my steps. Fear? Yes. Of her? No. Burden must be delivered. No distractions.
Tighten straps. Keep moving. One step at a time.
Mule part of 5th Supply Company of the 2nd Imperial Army, marching on the Sand kingdoms. Distant war. Geas laid upon mule by mage to carry provisions. No escape. Whispered in ear and anchored to soul. Mule trundles on, behind army. Dutiful animal.
As they approach battlefield, fox litter found near oasis. Kids and cubs. All butchered for meat and skin. Skin stretched on mule's back for curing and left.
Army finds army. Violence begets violence. Raiders fall upon supply company. Mule runs to safety. Geas allows seeking of personal safety.
Reaches oasis. Drinks deeply. Interrupted by eyes in the dark. Slinking shape, close to ground. Fox mother returned to death of children. Skin hanging from mule.
Clever mother, but foolish father. Charges mule in anger. Mule crushes skull. Mother stays and watches. Follows mule, when leaves.
End of story? Moral? Unknown. She still stalks. She follows. Fable as old as words drying upon scroll, freshly written.
I am the mule. Soldiers killed children, added geas to carry burden to destination. Defeated sand king surrendered, but attacked on sight of children's scalps hanging from hand. Had to defend self. Geas does not allow death after all. Not peaceful, at least. No interest in becoming shambling mule, chasing life and death, like chasing sun and moon. Defend self well. Crush King's skull. Lucky. Queen only stares. Knows.
She waits then. Accepts and surrenders kingdom. Left to rule in name only. Puppet dancing on chains. But clever Queen. Sacrifices remaining handmaidens and guards to dark powers. Seeks power over man who carries scalps and skulls. Bargain made. Only to have strength over me at one given point of time. Time unclear. Of her choosing or my weakness.
She follows. Adds a little speed to my steps. Fear? Yes. Of her? No. Burden must be delivered. No distractions.
Tighten straps. Keep moving. One step at a time.
Chapter 4
Destiny. Each man claims his own. Valid? Impossible to check. Many names for it. Purpose, goal, path etc. But destiny is what is chosen for you. Purpose is what you choose to do.
Geas is neither. Geas is purpose laid upon you and made your only goal. Darkest kind of magic, to impose will upon others. Impossible, unless strong willed or willing victim. Many impose will through sacrifice. Always burns the soul Little at a time. Clever man hoards soul, rations use. Foolish mage burn away the intangible for tangible things.
Geas laid upon me willingly. Love makes man weak. And losing that love makes man desperate. Do anything, give anything up for love's breath. Gave up love itself and rest of life for a little favor. Gave up enough of self to make it worth a mage's time to save love's life.
Mage laid geas to follow orders. Not assassin or thug. Mere courier. Cruel joke by mage.
Left life and love behind. Walked into sunset. Thought self to be sincere. Foolish, I think now. But regret? Bled enough to leave that man behind. Became geas, had purpose. Walked. Each step a desperate plea to outrun the sorrow that follows behind.
She still stalks, free from the shadow of desperation. Her geas is clear, no ambiguity. Sad clarity. My final step will end her purpose. Vengeance served, now whom will she serve? Return to?
Caress scalps of children maybe. Live a year or two before lack of purpose drives to grave. Hard ground around here. Difficult to dig grave for self. Difficult anywhere, I suppose.
Only escape is if I end it. Enjoy the company. The fear of geas left unfulfilled. She may walk behind me now. Feel the thrill of the hunt upon the wind.
Road goes on. I must go left from crossroad. Sudden thought. What will I do, when geas is lifted?
Meaning of terror made clear.
Geas is neither. Geas is purpose laid upon you and made your only goal. Darkest kind of magic, to impose will upon others. Impossible, unless strong willed or willing victim. Many impose will through sacrifice. Always burns the soul Little at a time. Clever man hoards soul, rations use. Foolish mage burn away the intangible for tangible things.
Geas laid upon me willingly. Love makes man weak. And losing that love makes man desperate. Do anything, give anything up for love's breath. Gave up love itself and rest of life for a little favor. Gave up enough of self to make it worth a mage's time to save love's life.
Mage laid geas to follow orders. Not assassin or thug. Mere courier. Cruel joke by mage.
Left life and love behind. Walked into sunset. Thought self to be sincere. Foolish, I think now. But regret? Bled enough to leave that man behind. Became geas, had purpose. Walked. Each step a desperate plea to outrun the sorrow that follows behind.
She still stalks, free from the shadow of desperation. Her geas is clear, no ambiguity. Sad clarity. My final step will end her purpose. Vengeance served, now whom will she serve? Return to?
Caress scalps of children maybe. Live a year or two before lack of purpose drives to grave. Hard ground around here. Difficult to dig grave for self. Difficult anywhere, I suppose.
Only escape is if I end it. Enjoy the company. The fear of geas left unfulfilled. She may walk behind me now. Feel the thrill of the hunt upon the wind.
Road goes on. I must go left from crossroad. Sudden thought. What will I do, when geas is lifted?
Meaning of terror made clear.
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