Sae Wesren, Dead to the World
My name is Sae Wesren and I am dead to the world. My parents believe I was hung for my crimes, the courtiers believe I fell from a cliff, and the magic users believe I was killed by the monster they set on my tail. I died none of these deaths. Only one besides myself knows of my survival and he cannot speak any verbal tongues. His name is Jansibal and he was my savior.
This is how it was.
I was imprisoned in the dungeons of Miren for my crimes against the crown. I was in for life, or at least until they decided to kill me. I was stashed down deep, in the part of the dungeons people seldom visit, not even friends and family. I was locked in one of the death cells, where no one could doubt my fate. The guards came twice a day with food, but otherwise kept clear of the place. Some inmates were possessed of dark magic and kept secured with a multitude of spells. Others were so savage, that they would attempt to attack anything that moved. Where did I fit in? Well, I had MindSpeech with anything nonhuman. I guess they didn’t want me to be able to receive help. Not that they blocked my mind off, no one except an expert magic user could ever do that. And, for the record, there were two or three of those in Miren at that time, but they had better things to do than block a prisoner’s MindSpeech.
One day, as I scanned for any free intelligent friendly nonhumans, more from boredom than any real hope, a magic user descended to my part of the dungeons. He was looking for a test subject and he chose me. The guards dragged me along, as I fought to be free of their grasp. The user had me brought to his study and strapped to the table on the raised center of the room. Once I was secured, he dismissed the guards. As he prepared his spells, another figure entered the room. When I saw the person, I flinched, for it wasn’t a person at all, but a darkling. Its face was as impassive as stone and it deferred to the magic user. I was frightened of it, but still reached out with my mind to enter its thoughts. I hit a wall surrounding its mind. Someone had taught the darkling shielding.
Just then the magic user finished preparing his spells, all he needed now was blood to seal off the spells. Users with good morals use their own blood, not him; he took a knife and sliced the darkling’s arm. He collected the blood in a vial, and then poured across the runes. He didn’t pause to bind up the darkling’s arm as is proper to do for a donor. Unless, of course, it wasn’t a donor, but a Bound Creature. I guessed the latter.
The magic user started chanting, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything, like a blindfold had been dropped over my eyes. He had blinded me. I lost consciousness and woke up back in my cell.
I sank into a deep depression alone in the dark; I didn’t eat and became weaker by the day. No one cared. In fact, they all, guards and inmates, wanted me to die.
Then I heard a voice in my head, one that sounded familiar, but I was sure I had never heard before. At first I ignored it, wanting to be left alone to die. It wanted me to get up, walk around, and eat. So I ignored it until it got frustrated and went away. Alone in the dark and quiet, I realized that I missed the voice. When it came back, I listened to it and did what it told me to do. I got stronger, to the disappointment of the other inmates and guards.
One day I realized what the voice belonged to; the darkling. But I wasn’t afraid of it any longer, we were friends and we were going to escape together. The next night we pulled it off and escaped into the wilderness. We’ve lived together ever since. He is my eyes, and I am his voice. Two parts of a whole, and dead to the world.