Story #91 - Ashkar The Blind

Ashkar The Blind

“All things come with a price, son,” his father said, raising the white-hot poker.

“I know, father,” Ashkar steeled himself but nothing could prepare him for the sensation of double-pronged fire sliding into his eyes, tearing their delicate coverings and boiling the liquid inside. Pain and heat collided within him and he screamed, the bonds on the table holding him securely in place as he writhed.

A steep price indeed.

***

Ashkar Aldebri pulled his blue cloak tighter around him as the wind picked up, and spurred his horse to a trot. Their journey had already taken twice as long as it should have thanks to the weather, and his powers were too valuable to waste on things like drying out muddy roads or diverting the winds so they would provide a pocket of calm air.

In truth, he lacked the ability to do many of the things his companions were asking for, but it was better to let them think such actions were beneath his stature than give them the idea that the Blind One in their midst was nothing but smoke and mirrors. He was powerful, in many ways more so than others of his kind, but he was bound by certain laws, condemned to operate in certain ways, that made the scope of his abilities limited.

Another group was approaching them on the road; more peasants, from the look of them. For the last week, the traffic coming toward them had been growing, but they saw no one else on the road headed the same direction as they were. The peasants were right to flee; if his suspicious about what were happening in the Upper Mire were correct, there would be nothing anyone but he or one of his brothers could do.

Even at this distance, Ashkar could see this group was far worse off than the last. Three of their number were being carried in litters and at their head was a young man who looked no older than Ashkar had been when his own responsibilities were thrust upon him. The second sight gave him superior vision despite the black bandage across his eyes, something that often frightened those in his employ. Once again, fear worked to his advantage, as many of his mercenaries believed that he could see directly into their hearts and would stop their beating with a thought if they chose to betray him.

In fact, he could probably pull that off, but it would be more mess than it was worth.

“Captain!” He called out, and the leader of his crew dropped back to meet him. “Stop them on the road,” he said, pointing at the approaching group, “I wish to speak with them.” The unshaven man nodded; he was a good solider and a veteran of three kingdom wars, and stayed bought once he was paid for. He also didn't argue, which was something lacking in most of the entitled mercenary bands he had contacted. Ashkar needed information from those on the road, and the Captain didn't ask why, or when, or what he should do – he just did it.

Ashkar reined in his horse for a moment while the Captain and two of his men went to speak with the peasants. There were a number of arms raised and gestures made, and finally he saw the Captain's sword come part way out of its sheath. He had not approved any killings, but mercenaries often took the most direct approach to a problem, something he could respect.

He rode his mount in slowly, giving the young leader of the peasant group time to see him coming, and the man was visibly trembling by the time he arrived at the small knot of horses in the middle of the road.

“Good man,” he began, “I mean no harm to you or your kind, but I must ask you questions, and you must answer truthfully. Do you understand?” It was good to clear up any confusion at the outset; he was bound by the words he spoke, and wanted to ensure that the other man knew his intentions. He could murder the lot of them, but that would serve no purpose. Knowledge was needed, not blood.

“I...I understand, My Lord.” The man swallowed hard; he was healthy enough for a peasant, with clean features and a stocky frame. He would have done well in his village had their group not been forced to leave, and even now the others with him looked to him for leadership. Ashkar allowed himself a moment of self-pity – it had been something he had no control over that decided his fate, an accident of birth that had set him on this path. Men followed him out of fear, not choice, and he sometimes wished it could be otherwise.

“Why are you running?” He had suspicions, but if the injured in this group were any indication, their leader could provide him proof.

“A monster!” Came the reply, “My Lord, it was twice as tall as any of the buildings in the village and came on us without warning. It was fire and shadow, something we couldn't see to hit, let alone kill.” The man swallowed hard. “We're all that's left, just twenty, twenty out of five hundred. It murdered the rest.”

Ashkar sucked in a sharp breath. He had expected a creature of the elemental plane, but this was excessive, something he believed not even the Dark would call on.

“Make camp, Captain,” he said, and the mercenary withdrew with his men to begin preparations. “You will remain here for the night, leader. You are lucky to have escaped with your life, but the creature you saw will continue to ravage the land until it is stopped. I have need of your knowledge.”

“Of course, my Lord,” the peasant was unhappy at the prospect of staying any longer than he had to anywhere near the beast, but he had no choice in the matter. “Can...can you tell me what it was? What destroyed my village?”

“Count yourself fortunate, leader,” he replied “you're one of the few to have seen a Pardok and lived to tell the tale.”

The leader's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide; had Ashkar's still possessed that capability, they would have done so as well. Serious magic was afoot.

- D