Murderous Mage

TW: swearing, necromancy and rhyming couplets.

A mage took a stroll in a deep dark hood.

A drunk saw the mage, and the mage looked good.

“Why do you wander, cute little mage?

Why twist your face with such awful rage?”

“A man killed my friend mister drunk, it’s true.

A man killed my friend, and I know it was you.”

He had rotten teeth, in his rotten jaw.

And the drunk gave the mage a hearty guffaw.

He had gnawed nails on his twisted fingers,

A vomitous reek that so often lingers.

“Killed your friend, no mage, not I.

I know of your kind, and I know I would die.”

“You’re a liar, and villain, today is your last.

If you’ve any last words, you’d best say them fast.”

With tears in her eyes and death in her heart,

She cast a spell that would rip him apart.

Sleek black hair flickered in a sudden gust,

Seeing her rage, the drunk man went for bust.

“I never killed your friend, little mage, oh no.

But I saw who did, and I’ll tell you so.”

Agony grew as the cruel spell began,

But, doubting herself, she spared the man.

“Tell me who killed her. I might let you live.

But don’t lie to me, that I cannot forgive.”

Grateful the witch had not torn him asunder,

The drunk told a lie, and so doing, a blunder.

“I saw your mage friend take a shot to the thigh,

From a man with a crossbow, and that’s no lie.

The man wore a helmet with a feather atop.

The killer struck twice, only then did he stop.

His garments were black with a golden eye.

Please, mage, have mercy, I don’t want to die.”

The mage simply smiled with teeth that shone bright.

Her rage was a fire that lit up the night.

She heard the man and thought him a liar.

Within grew passionate, vengeful desire.

Lightning struck him as he fell to his knees.

The smell of his burning was spread by the breeze.

“Hateful witch, you murdered Old Miller.

He was a drunk and a fool, but never a killer.

You stand there now with his blood on your hands.

Be gone, witch. You’re a scourge on these lands.”

The mage threw her hair back and roared to the crowd.

The mage’s eyes glowed, her voice magically loud.

She roared a warning “observe and hear thee,

Liars will rue the day that they fucked with me.

So Miller is innocent? Let none call me unjust.”

She waved her hands, and up the corpse thrust.

Groaning and screaming, he was then reborn.

Miller’s face twisted, his soul was forlorn.

His eyes were a  requiem for blissful dreams.

His sanity picked apart, frayed at the seams.

“Curse you, hag. I did nothing wrong.

Perhaps the evil was you all along.”

He pointed a finger, crooked and shaking,

Calling down doom for a grudge in the making.

“Forgiveness I beg thee for the harm done.

I seek only revenge for a murdered dear one.

She was a great witch of kindness and grace.

Now stabbed in the back, and cut in the face.

Her name was Imelda, mine is Claire.

Please, there must be one here who was there?

For help I will bless you with a healing.

Cure all the aches and pains you are feeling.”

Up shot the hand of a boy just knee high.

The boy had one brown and one sapphire eye.

His hair was bedraggled and matted with mud,

His clothes the colour of a newly dug spud.

With an earnest face and hands worn from work,

He was clearly a lad who did not shirk.

“Speak to me lad, tell all and tell me true.

My magic holds a just reward for you.”

“I saw a man in black, gold eye on his cloak.

He came from nothing and he vanished in smoke.”

He walked forwards in fear to tell the rest.

Whispering in her ear the boy confessed.

“I know his face, he is one of your own.

One among you but he’s always alone.

He's always grinning but never feels joy.

His kindness is fake and his smile a ploy.”

He knows the word ploy, who is this boy?

She wondered at the child called Elroy.

“I know him, young man. And now for your boon.

I’ll heal all wounds and find you again soon.”

Her hands wove strength around his bones,

And vanished scars on Elroy Jones.

“I name you apprentice and say it now,

You will be great and I’ll show you how.”

The diamond polished showed her glittering teeth,

And flexed new muscles that tensed beneath,

His glowing skin was speckled and tanned.

She knew the young man would be in demand.

Off up to the castle the young witch did roam.

North over cobbles and back to her home.

The night grew dark and the dark grew deep

The assassin tossed and turned in his sleep

With a sudden awareness, the killer awoke

With a hand on his throat, he started to choke

There above him stood the witch Claire

Ready for murder, too angry to care.

“You killed my friend Angus Muchty, why?

A good night to you, and a great night to die.”

“Kind young Imelda is dead? My gods no.

I’d never hurt her. How could you think so?

Her death to us mages is a terrible blow.

If you want me gone, Claire, then I will go.

But I am no traitor, that will not be said.

If you think so, you’ve gone soft in the head.”

Moving her hand he sat up in his bed.

Removing his covers with hands not turned red.

For a moment the witch’s heart flickered with doubt

If it was not that man, who haunted about,

Who killed Imelda with a knife in the back?

Why hurt a kind soul in a deadly attack?

“The blade in her back was not held by me.

Check if I’m lying and Claire you will see,

In this I am honestly innocent please,

Heed the words of a man on his knees.”

He knelt before her, head bowed, shaking.

She wondered the toll fear of her was taking.

“The sun has not set, her soul may remain.

Bring her back, Claire, do not wallow in pain.

We have the power to raise the dead.

Let’s do it now, to hell with what’s said.”

“I tried to, Mason, you know what I got?

Her soul is gone forever, that’s what.

Sweet Imelda has been taken away

Never again will her smile light the day.

Her eyes were a summer sky’s sapphire blue.

Ochre hair flicked when she danced past you.

Teeth white as snow gleamed in her wide smile.

Whenever I looked I was lost for a while.”

Up looked Angus, from his knees on the floor.

As a silent shadow slipped through the door.

Unseen by the duo, up rose a knife,

Ready and hoping to take away life.

From his knees, Angus greeted his fellow.

He smiled and then to Elroy said, “hello.”

Claire turned, as the knife stabbed towards her heart.

Seeing the boy, the truth tore her apart.

“Behold the third greatest mage in the land,”

Said Angus, “he will be my right hand.

Imelda was the greatest mage of all

That sealed her fate, meaning she had to fall

I must be the best, it’s all I can do.

I cannot be second to her or to you.”

Claire fell, dying with a knife in her chest.

But by her last breath she denied the best

Casting a spell, Claire tore Angus apart.

Then she dropped dead with a blade in her heart.

“With Angus, Claire and Imelda at rest,

Now I, Elroy Jones, will be known as the best.”

His hands on their hearts, he drank up their souls.

With bloody fingers, he’d achieved all his goals.

A flick of his hand turned their bodies to ashes.

He wiped off the blood and fluttered his lashes.

The boy from the slums felt great magic within.

He laughed, and he sighed, and he started to grin.