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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1868791-Xuander-1
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by AF Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #1868791
The first chapter of a young man named Xuander in his struggle for freedom.
Screams, loud and clear, rang through the air. Begging for mercy and forgiveness, those horrible screams rang through the ice covered mountains, the tormented voice was heard everywhere. the sound of it seemed to mute the soft chirping of the cardinals and the croaking of the frogs that sat in a small, stagnant pond. But where did those screams come from? What poor tormented soul could possibly have voiced such a tormented sound?

The answer lies in a castle on the top of the white tipped mountains in a throne room. The throne room, built from white marble, contained gold in the pillars that branched onto the ceiling like roots connecting to each other at random places. At the bases of the magnificent pillars were golden bases, decorated with carvings of animals and hunters. On the walls were stain-glass windows that showed pictures of all of the kings that had sat in this throne room in the ages before. A high-backed oak wood throne placed on a platform of white marble sat at the far end of the room. Beautifully carved, it sat on the platform and looked as if it came straight from heaven.

But one sight, in the middle of the floor, ruined all of the beauty that filled this magical palace. this gory, cruel spectical was the origin of the horrible scream. Kneeling in the middle of the floor was a young man, an iron collar around his neck and chains on his wrists and ankles. The young man was sobbing; his shackled hands covered his face as he begged his tormentor for mercy. His tormentor, a tall thin muscular man in all black with a black cape donned his shoulder. In his hands, was a whip that had small rocks attached to the ends to cause more pain. The slave, which he obviously was because of the iron collar, had lash marks all over his backs. It was the horrible pain of the whip that had caused the scream to escape from the pitiful creature. Now, the master stood over the sobbing bondsman with a horrible grin, thinking about the man his slave used to be. A strong-minded man, a will harder than steel, and a glint in the eyes that said “I will kill you”; these things described him. But now, he was a pitiful slave, whose very thought were controlled by the man who now punished him so cruelly.

Suddenly the slave spoke, “Master, please…I never meant to…to...” he faltered as his meaningless words caught in his throat.

“You never meant to do what, Xuander?” the master spoke smoothly, right before he brought the whip down once more on Xuander's back. Another scream escaped the slave.

“Please… have mercy, master… I never meant to anger you. I’m so sorry…please… mercy,” Xuander sobbed, crawling over to his master and placing his head on his eloquent black boots, trembling in fear and pain.

“Get off of me!” the master screamed and kicked the slave in the face. “You will take your punishment, the more you resist the more you will suffer!” To this, Xuander simply bowed his head. Not another scream escaped him as he submitted to the whip of this master. This bloody punishment went on until the master was red in the face. Then he stopped and went to the oak throne and sat. Xuander still knelt, his arms wrapped around his bloodied torso. His entire body had grown numb soon after he had tried to beg for mercy.

The master saw Xuander's pain and barked an order at him. “Get off of the floor, slave. Come sit by me.” Xuander nodded and walked over to the throne and knelt beside it. The chains on him jangled as he did so. The master smiled as he sat his slave's absolute submission. A soft chuckle escaped his lips,now parched. “Get me some wine,” the master commanded. Xuander stood slowly and stumbled to a bowl of fine wine, then slowly came back to the master and held the bowl to his lips, which then sighed and sat back.

Moments later he sat up straight, one hand held to his throat and the other gripping the arm of the throne. His eyes widened and a droplet of blood came from his open mouth. His breath came in short gasps and fell to the floor, his shallow breaths ceased. Xuander stood there, looking down at the man who had enslaved him. There was no pity in his eyes. This man was not as broken as the master had believed.For this man, the pitiful slave recently flogged within half an inch of his life, was the one who brought death to a wicked tyrant king in his own palace.

Xuander stood and walked over to the doors that lead out of the throne room and turned one last time to look at his former master, dead on the ground. That was the last thing he saw before a guard who had been cowering in the corner the entire time knocked him unconscious.

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