Slave King Chapter 2 redone

[Damiynn]

Chapter 2

Doral swept the outer chambers of the hall of war wizards with the straw broom, his eyes lowered. He knew from past experience. Beatings had taught him long ago not to make eye contact with the masters in their rune-marked black and silver robes. His deformed foot dragged behind him as he did this same task that he had been doing every day since he had been a small child.

The two masters had made derogatory statements about his own master keeping him. Scathing remarks about how he should be killed for his deformity. Sharp tongued comments that Doral knew they would not dare utter in his master’s presence. If not for his master the other war wizards would have killed him off long time ago.

Their derisive and scornful sneers proved how the Elvynn believed. Perfect in every way, thought Doral, schooling his face to remain calm although bile filled the back of his throat. Humans and other lesser races were beneath them and one with a deformity, he glanced down at his foot, worthless.

My master, he thought balefully, is the only reason I’m still alive.

Maybe, Doral thought continuing his sweeping, this year, he might heal my leg.” Bone mending spells weren’t that difficult. He couldn’t work the magic on himself, he had tried several times.

No one but Loriass knew about his abilities. Doral doubted there was another human in Talathandria who could work creational magic. Early in his childhood he had started doing the things he watched his master do in the privacy of his chambers.

Loriass had explained once that the ability probably had been forced into him by all of the magic that had been wielded at his time of conception. Refusing though to send him away, the supreme mage had instead kept him close. Saying, “You are my reminder of what unrelenting pride and shame can lead to.”

The Highmage had made him swear oaths that he would never reveal what he could do or that he had taught him some. Teaching a slave, especially a human slave, the more superior forms of creational magic was a penalty punishable by death.

Looking down at his hands holding the broom, and thinking about what he had been practicing earlier Doral knew. He was capable of a lot more magic than his master realized.

Growing up here in the war wizards Tower of Talathandria, he had learned early on where the Elvynn were concerned, never reveal how much power you have unless you are in the ruling family, or it could be used against you. But when it came to displaying magical prowess, all of the Tua-latin took exorbitant amounts of pride in their achievements. He had watched and he had learned how to do all of their displays. He had grown up in the chambers of the most powerful war wizard on the planet and Loraiss had made him constantly study his every move and every action both magically and physically every day for as long as he could remember.

Despite his cruelness and icy nature, Loriass was the closest thing that he had to a family or father. Unlike the other war wizards of the Tua-latin Loriass believed, Use everything and practice with everything. He practiced almost as much with weapons as he did with magic and, in spite of his bad leg and twisted foot, Doral had grown over the years to be proficient at both.

As Highmage of the Elvynn in Talathandria, Loriass had a difficult time finding adequate training partners. Doral had watched him kill all of them so that they could not reveal his skills or weaknesses to any other war wizards seeking his post.

Finally, he had trained Doral to be his fighting partner. Despite his twisted leg and bent foot Doral managed at times to hold his own against his master.

Turning a corner in the mages’ tower, his broom moving across the silver and black marble floor, he saw a new addition. Eyes fixating on her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. She was elegant in form but the sight of her face caused his eyes to widen. Jagged whip scars covered both of her cheeks. Her dark eyed gaze caught him looking and she started to turn away, but he stopped her with a quick smile. Seeing that there were no masters about she returned it.

Adjusting his sweeping, Doral angled in her direction. Slaves were not permitted to fraternize except during times of respite, early morning or in the late afternoon. Talking during working hours bought a harsh punishment that could vary depending on how severe the master was or in his case, who the master was.

Using hand signs, something that the masters in their arrogance hadn’t figured out, Doral asked her name. Using the same mode of speech that could almost work as well as any spoken language and had been developed over the course of thousands of years in chains the pretty slave responded, Bethany and that she was owned by Iindra Nye.

Iindra Nye was a name Doral knew. She was an up and coming war wizard, one of the Tua-latin from a lesser house who his master spoke of showing much promise. When Doral told Bethany his master’s name, her eyes went wide and she dropped the figurine she was cleaning. It shattered into fragments and the blood fled from her face as she stared down at the mess, cringing at the sound of the breaking statue.

Seeing the distress on her face and the look of fear Doral did the one thing he never was allowed to do. Hastily throwing a look about the hall and seeing no masters, he quickly sought out the lines of power and gathered his magic.

Using a small trickle of creational power, he hurriedly reformed the small shattered statue into a solid piece and bonded it back together with a holding spell.

The female slave’s eyes went even wider than earlier and looked like they were going to drop out of their sockets. Then rubbing a hand across her face, she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor as if she was being spoken to by one of the masters, gasping in a soft voice, “You can work magic?”

Doral gaped, not sure what had come over him. Fear coursed through his veins like ice in a frozen river. He couldn’t believe what he had done, especially not in front of someone. If Loriass found out he would kill him.

Quickly, before any masters appeared he anxiously hissed, “I can only do that much. Please don’t tell.”

“You did it to protect me,” she said softly, trying to ease his fears, and still trying to shield her face from his view. “I’ve heard that some humans in the Du’artha slave mines could work magic but I didn’t believe it. My mistress said that they were all killed for doing so while revolting.”

Now Doral’s eyes bulged. “A revolt? Du’artha? Where’s that? I’ve never heard of such.”

A small, hard smile curved the edge of her lips. “Your master keeps you safe and protected, sheltered in his chambers. Dwelven, dwarves and humans in the slave mines tried to launch a rebellion. The humans tried learning the dwelven’s magic to overcome the masters, some did but most failed and they were put to death. Hung on chains throughout the tunnels above the heads of the rest of the slaves to serve as learning lessons.”

“How do you know all of this, how is it possible that you have heard this and I have heard nothing of it when my master is who he is?” asked Doral, astounded.

“My mistress, Iindra Nye, she rules over the slave mines and is reporting to the Queen about this revolt. Your master is probably learning of it in the Highchambers right now.”

Doral shook his head. This would put his master in a foul mood. Staring down at his deformed leg and foot, he knew he would have to live with it a little longer.
* * *
“You seem distracted?” hissed Loriass.

Doral tore his eyes off of the broom propped up against the side of the chamber wall and his thoughts of the girl. Valiantly, he tried making an effort to avoid what was coming but Loriass was quicker. His staff snaked inside of Doral’s defensives and before he could stop it he was slapped hard in rapid succession. Both sides of his ribs, which caused him to be put off balance and then the staff was between his legs. Surprisingly enough the blow that he thought he would have received didn’t come and instead Doral found his feet knocked out from underneath him.

He landed hard on the tiled floor, air exploding out of his lungs and his own staff flew out of his hands. Before he could gather his senses enough to move he felt the tip of Loriass’ staff hitting him in the throat.

“Just because today is your named day doesn’t mean that you can allow yourself to become distracted when we fight. If you were anyone else right now I would kill you for such disrespect. I understand why you are distracted though.”

For a moment fear filled Doral, how could his master know, he had only just met her a few hours ago.

“Your leg. You are thinking about it again and whether or not I will heal you this year, right?”

Hiding his sudden rush of relief behind a downcast face, Doral quickly answered, “Yes master, I have been thinking about it, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fail you.”

The robed figure strode into the room and all of the slaves besides Bethany sucked in their breath and fell back a few steps. Iindra Nye pushed back the cowl of her black and silver hood and the face that it revealed under its shadow was that out of a nightmare. The mistress of the prisons face was a gruesome mask that looked as if it had been melted and molded by some sort of hideous fire. The eyes burning in the sockets of that mask lit with a feverish light as they fell upon the female slave. Bethany saw a faint suggestion of a smile play on the edges of her mistress’s twisted mouth.

The Elvynn woman spoke and her words came out in a soft whisper that barely rose above a hiss as if that was all the noise that she could manage.

“You met his slave today, pretty Bethany?”

“Yes mistress,” answered Bethany, keeping her head low and her eyes lowered. “We talked for a few moments in the hallway outside of his master’s rooms.

“Good,” hissed Iindra, flicking a tongue out, licking her scarred lips. “Now all you have to do is find a way for him to take you inside his master’s chambers. He must do that! Once you are in there, you can lay the seeds for his master’s destruction, the groundwork that will lead to his defeat and allow my own move into his seat of power.” Iindra’s hand shot out in a blur of speed, her long nails seizing Bethany by the face, digging into the scars on her cheeks, causing the female slave to cringe from the pain. “You must not fail in this,” she hissed, “if you do, your life will become forfeit and you will be cast back into the mines I pulled you from. Do you understand me human!”

[ctg]

A bit repetitious but you are getting better with the art. Red mark for deletion and blue ones are my edits.

Originally Posted by Damiynn

Chapter 2

Doral swept the outer chambers of the hall of war wizards with the straw broom, his eyes lowered. He knew from past experience. Beatings had taught him long ago not to make eye contact with the masters in their rune-marked black and silver robes. His deformed foot dragged behind him as he did this same task that he had been doing for almost all his life.

The two masters had made derogatory statements about his own master keeping him. Scathing remarks about how he should be killed for his deformity. Sharp tongued comments that Doral knew they would not dare utter in his master’s presence. If not for his master, the other war wizards would have killed him off long time ago.

Their derisive and scornful sneers proved how the Elvynn believed. Perfect in every way, thought Doral, schooling his face to remain calm although bile filled the back of his throat. Humans and other lesser races were beneath them and one with a deformity, he glanced down at his foot, worthless.

My master, he thought balefully, is the only reason I’m still alive.

Maybe, Doral thought continuing his sweeping, this year, he might heal my leg.” Bone mending spells weren’t that difficult. He couldn’t work the magic on himself, he had tried several times.

No one but Loriass knew about his abilities. Doral doubted there was another human in Talathandria who could work creational magics. Early in his childhood he had started mimicking things he watched his master practiced in the privacy of his chambers.

Loriass had explained once that the ability probably had been forced into him by all of the magic that had been wielded at his time of conception. Refusing though to send him away, the supreme mage had instead kept him close. He even said, Saying, “You are my reminder of what unrelenting pride and shame can lead to.”

The Highmage had made him swear oaths that he would never reveal what he could do or that he had taught him some. Teaching a slave, especially a human slave, the more superior forms of creational magic was a penalty punishable by death.

Looking down at his hands holding the broom, and thinking about what he had been practicing earlier Doral knew he was capable of a lot more powerful magic than his master realized.

Growing up here in the war wizards Tower of Talathandria, he had learned early on where the Elvynn were concerned, never reveal how much power you have unless you are in the ruling family, or it could be used against you. But when it came to displaying magical prowess, all of the Tua-latin took exorbitant amounts of pride in their achievements. He had watched and he had learned how to do all of their displays. He had grown up in the chambers of the most powerful war wizard on the planet and Loraiss had made him constantly study his every move and every action both magically and physically every day for as long as he could remember.

Despite his cruelness and icy nature, Loriass was the closest thing that he had to a family or father, and under his guidance he practiced everything, even weapons. Unlike the other war wizards of the Tua-latin Loriass believed, Use everything and practice with everything. He practiced almost as much with weapons as he did with magic and, in spite of his bad leg and twisted foot, Doral had grown over the years to be proficient at both.

As Highmage of the Elvynn in Talathandria, Loriass had a difficult time finding adequate training partners. Maybe it was because Loriass killed them all of them so that they wouldn't could not reveal his skills or weaknesses to any other war wizards seeking his post.

Finally, he had trained Doral to be his fighting partner. Despite his twisted leg and bent foot Doral managed at times to hold his own against his master.

Turning a corner in the mages’ tower, his broom moving across the silver and black marble floor, he saw a new addition. Eyes fixating on her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. She was elegant in form but the sight of her face caused his eyes to widen. Jagged whip scars covered both of her cheeks. Her dark eyed gaze caught him looking and she started to turn away, but he stopped her with a quick smile. Seeing that there were no masters about she returned it.

Adjusting his sweeping, Doral angled in her direction. Slaves were not permitted to fraternize except during times of respite, early morning or in the late afternoon. Talking during working hours bought a harsh punishment that could vary depending on how severe the master was or in his case, who the master was.

Using hand signs, something that the masters in their arrogance hadn’t figured out, Doral asked her name. Using the same model of speech that could almost work as well as any spoken language and had been developed over the course of thousands of years in chains the pretty slave responded, Bethany and that she was owned by Iindra Nye.

Iindra Nye was a name Doral knew. She was an up and coming war wizard, one of the Tua-latin from a lesser house who his master spoke of showing much promise. When Doral told Bethany his master’s name, her eyes went wide and she dropped the figurine she was cleaning. It shattered into fragments and the blood fled from her face as she stared down at the mess, cringing at the sound of the breaking statue.

Seeing the distress on her face and the look of fear Doral did the one thing he never was allowed to do. Hastily throwing a look about the hall and seeing no masters, he quickly sought out the lines of power and gathered his magic.

Using a small trickle of creational power, he hurriedly reformed the small shattered statue into a solid piece and bonded it back together with a holding spell.

The female slave’s eyes went even wider than earlier and looked like they were going to drop out of their sockets. Then rubbing a hand across her face, Then she quickly dropped her gaze and to the floor as if she was being spoken to by one of the masters, gasped in a soft voice, “You can work magic?”

Doral gaped, not sure what had come over him. Fear coursed through his veins like ice in a frozen river. He couldn’t believe what he had done, especially not in front of someone. If Loriass found out he would kill him.

Quickly, before any masters appeared he anxiously hissed, “I can only do that much. Please don’t tell.”

“You did it to protect me,” she said softly, trying to ease his fears, and still trying to shield her face from his view. “I’ve heard that some humans in the Du’artha slave mines could work magic but I didn’t believe it. My mistress said that they were all killed for doing so while revolting.”

Now Doral’s eyes bulged. “A revolt? Du’artha? Where’s that? I’ve never heard of such.”

A small, hard smile curved the edge of her lips. “Your master keeps you safe and protected, sheltered in his chambers. Dwelven, dwarves and humans in the slave mines tried to launch a rebellion. The humans tried learning the dwelven’s magic to overcome the masters, some did but most failed and they were put to death. Hung on chains throughout the tunnels above the heads of the rest of the slaves to serve as learning lessons.”

“How do you know all of this, how is it possible that you have heard this and I have heard nothing of it when my master is who he is?” asked Doral, astounded.

“My mistress, Iindra Nye, she rules over the slave mines and is reporting to the Queen about this revolt. Your master is probably learning of it in the Highchambers right now.”

Doral shook his head. This would put his master in a foul mood. Staring down at his deformed leg and foot, he knew he would have to live with it a little longer.

* * *

“You seem distracted?” hissed Loriass.

Doral tore his eyes off of the broom propped up against the side of the chamber wall and his thoughts of the girl. Valiantly, he tried making an effort to avoid what was coming but Loriass was quicker. His staff snaked inside of Doral’s defensives and before he could stop it he was slapped hard in rapid succession. Both sides of his ribs, which caused him to be put off balance and then the staff was between his legs. Surprisingly enough the blow that he thought he would have received didn’t come and instead Doral found his feet knocked out from underneath him.

He landed hard on the tiled floor, air exploding out of his lungs and his own staff flew out of his hands. Before he could gather his senses enough to move he felt the tip of Loriass’ staff hitting him in the throat.

“Just because today is your named day doesn’t mean that you can allow yourself to become distracted when we fight. If you were anyone else right now I would kill you for such disrespect. I understand why you are distracted though.”

For a moment fear filled Doral, how could his master know, he had only just met her a few hours ago.

“Your leg. You are thinking about it again and whether or not I will heal you this year, right?”

Hiding his sudden rush of relief behind a downcast face, Doral quickly answered, “Yes master, I have been thinking about it, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fail you.”

The robed figure strode into the room and all of the slaves besides Bethany sucked in their breath and fell back a few steps. Iindra Nye pushed back the cowl to reveal a face that was close to a of her black and silver hood and the face that it revealed under its shadow was that out of a nightmare. The mistress of the prisons face It was a gruesome mask that looked as if it had been melted and molded by some sort of hideous fire. Her eyes burned in the sockets of that mask lit with a feverish light as they fell upon the female slave. Bethany saw a faint suggestion of a smile play on the edges of her mistress’s twisted mouth.

The Elvynn woman spoke and her words came out in a soft whisper that barely rose above a hiss as if that was all the noise that she could manage.

“You met his slave today, pretty Bethany?”

“Yes mistress,” answered Bethany, keeping her head low and her eyes lowered. “We talked for a few moments in the hallway outside of his master’s rooms.

“Good,” hissed Iindra, flicking a tongue out, licking her scarred lips. “Now all you have to do is find a way for him to take you inside his master’s chambers. He must do that! Once you are in there, you can lay the seeds for his master’s destruction, the groundwork that will lead to his defeat and allow my own move into his seat of power.” Iindra’s hand shot out in a blur of speed, her long nails seizing Bethany by the face, digging into the scars on her cheeks, causing the female slave to cringe from the pain. “You must not fail in this,” she hissed, “if you do, your life will become forfeit and you will be cast back into the mines I pulled you from. Do you understand me human!”

[Damiynn]

Thanks ct, I took into advisement what you stated and made some of the corrections you mentioned, almost all. Some though I have to keep due to the fact they will be reminders later on and that is the only reference until a certain event happens. Thanks for the critique I need all I can get.