Eilzair listened closely, quietly to the story, unable to look away from Teyne as she spoke it. There was hurt in those words, glistening in those eyes. She was telling him something very private. Eilzair was surprised, what opening up just a little had done. With Iseth, there had been no bridge, no chasm. Anything and everything which happened during the day had been shared with Iseth, no matter how mundane or confusing. Iseth was the only person Eilzair had had that with.
He found himself nodding, unable to look away from her. He had entirely forgotten about her hand, not noticing the motion it made, though it subconsciously comforted him, in a way. Eilzair did not know what to say. It had been the act of helping another which enslaved her. Eilzair did not have such a story, with good intentions behind it. At the time, there had been no intentions other than power, other than peace. Running away from the elves, Eilzair had managed to find Iseth, the city of Rineva. He begged Iseth to take him in, the only time Eilzair had ever supplicated himself to another person. At the time, Eilzair had seen Iseth as a golden winged angel.
“It was after a long day of practicing. Both of us were tired, had spent ourselves magically, physically. That is when they attacked….” Eilzair’s fingers threaded through the long, green strands of grass, tangling there. It was all replaying in his mind. His tongue was unwilling but spoke anyway. Iseth would not approved of him trying to remain so anonymous, so shrouded by shadow. He had to speak. “Iseth ordered me to run, said he would distract them. I disobeyed him. I took my sword and tried to fight them, to keep them away from Iseth. It was my fault he died. He leapt in front of a blow meant for me…”
A grouping of five magic missiles slammed into Iseth’s chest, dead on. They had been locked on Eilzair. The cult did not care about the fledgling dragon disciple, wingless, powerless. But, they killed Iseth in that attack. He had already been injured, was staggering with every step. And then the magic hit him. Iseth was useless dead, so they left him there, upon the charred ground in the library, taking Eilzair instead. He still could not remember what happened just after the missiles hit Iseth. It was all black, until he woke up in a cage, deep underground.
“When I woke up, they started torturing me.” Eilzair swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat. He was trembling all over. He had never told anyone this. He tried not to think about it himself. There was no chance for that anymore. No running away. Iseth was listening. “They would cut me, and burn me, and then when I could take no more, they threw me into a pit with these beasts and make me fight. I spent an entire year down there… I sprouted my wings down there, and escaped while they were in chaos.”
His voice still had those hollow tones, but there was the edge of fear behind each word. Eilzair could still remember it too clearly. It was not that long ago.
