DAUGHTER OF SORROWS
Posted: Fri Sep 16, 2005 4:31 pm
“It is almost time.”
“Please spare me a just few moments more.”
“Very well, Lord Silverwright, but the sun will soon be down”
“I am quite aware of the hour, Sergeant…please indulge me in this. She is my only daughter.”
“As you will, Lord Silverwright.” Motioning curtly to his men, Sergeant Merkan marched crisply from the darkened room. Pausing as he closed the door he warned, “We shall be returning before Lathander’s face dips below the horizon. Please be ready.”
Kneeling beside his daughter’s deathbed, her cold, pale hand clutched between his trembling palms, Vastan Silverwright had no words with which to answer the Sergeant. How does one answer a man tasked by the Hurlorn himself to burn the body of your daughter to ash before the fall of night? Furiously he rubbed her tiny hands in the vain hope of restoring warmth to them.
Maya had disappeared from the Silverwright manse months ago. At the time Vastan believed that no sorrow could surpass the uncertainty. He hired mercenaries and bounty hunters by the dozen but the best they could provide him with were rumors and excuses. He bore witness to his wife’s descent into madness as her grief first ate away at her soul and then devoured her mind, as the months dragged on with no news of their daughter. Then their little boy was taken, stolen from his bed in the dark of night. Vastan watched helplessly as his wife’s mind fled completely from reality leaving him alone to endure the pain. Only the slim hope that his children yet lived allowed him to continue. Then the knock on his door had come.
Vastan had thought himself numb to any further hurts, but the sight of his precious angel resting upon her deathbed proved to be too much. Rising to his feet he looked down upon her supine form, her perfection marred only by the wooden stake jutting from her chest. Perhaps, thought Vastan, she was not dead but merely ensorcelled. That would certainly explain the odd behavior of Larris and Miradorn the night before and their resistance to his request to take possession of Maya’s body. It would also explain their insistence that he not under any circumstances remove the stake or hinder Sergeant Merkan in the performance of his duty. It was all clear now. From the beginning Miradorn and Larris had been behind the disappearances. It was all part of some fiendish plot against the House of Silverwright. The black velvet drapes attached to the windows served to only dim the lights and conceal their crimes, there was never any danger of the sunlight damaging the body. Taking a firm hold upon the wooden stake he pulled it from Maya’s chest and was rewarded by what sounded like a slight sigh issuing from her supposedly dead lips. Encouraged, a mad light danced within his eyes. Clutching the wooden stake with all his might he awaited the return of the sergeant.
He was ready.
He would not allow them to take his daughter from him again.
“Please spare me a just few moments more.”
“Very well, Lord Silverwright, but the sun will soon be down”
“I am quite aware of the hour, Sergeant…please indulge me in this. She is my only daughter.”
“As you will, Lord Silverwright.” Motioning curtly to his men, Sergeant Merkan marched crisply from the darkened room. Pausing as he closed the door he warned, “We shall be returning before Lathander’s face dips below the horizon. Please be ready.”
Kneeling beside his daughter’s deathbed, her cold, pale hand clutched between his trembling palms, Vastan Silverwright had no words with which to answer the Sergeant. How does one answer a man tasked by the Hurlorn himself to burn the body of your daughter to ash before the fall of night? Furiously he rubbed her tiny hands in the vain hope of restoring warmth to them.
Maya had disappeared from the Silverwright manse months ago. At the time Vastan believed that no sorrow could surpass the uncertainty. He hired mercenaries and bounty hunters by the dozen but the best they could provide him with were rumors and excuses. He bore witness to his wife’s descent into madness as her grief first ate away at her soul and then devoured her mind, as the months dragged on with no news of their daughter. Then their little boy was taken, stolen from his bed in the dark of night. Vastan watched helplessly as his wife’s mind fled completely from reality leaving him alone to endure the pain. Only the slim hope that his children yet lived allowed him to continue. Then the knock on his door had come.
Vastan had thought himself numb to any further hurts, but the sight of his precious angel resting upon her deathbed proved to be too much. Rising to his feet he looked down upon her supine form, her perfection marred only by the wooden stake jutting from her chest. Perhaps, thought Vastan, she was not dead but merely ensorcelled. That would certainly explain the odd behavior of Larris and Miradorn the night before and their resistance to his request to take possession of Maya’s body. It would also explain their insistence that he not under any circumstances remove the stake or hinder Sergeant Merkan in the performance of his duty. It was all clear now. From the beginning Miradorn and Larris had been behind the disappearances. It was all part of some fiendish plot against the House of Silverwright. The black velvet drapes attached to the windows served to only dim the lights and conceal their crimes, there was never any danger of the sunlight damaging the body. Taking a firm hold upon the wooden stake he pulled it from Maya’s chest and was rewarded by what sounded like a slight sigh issuing from her supposedly dead lips. Encouraged, a mad light danced within his eyes. Clutching the wooden stake with all his might he awaited the return of the sergeant.
He was ready.
He would not allow them to take his daughter from him again.
