"Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, --Othello V. ii
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one that loved not wisely but too well."
"Sir? The Abscido has arrived."
The Councilman nodded. "Show her in."
A tall, cloaked female figure entered. Despite the heaviness of the cloak, her steps appeared effortless and she moved without sound. The Councilman wondered idly if the same trick that told his eyes he was looking at a woman was also telling him he wasn't hearing any footsteps.
"Councilman," greeted the new arrival. Even her voice was light. Had he not trained himself earlier to try and see past some of the illusions, he could almost be fooled into thinking he was in the room alone with nothing more than a ghost.
"Thank you for coming. The Council is most grateful for the assistance of the Abscido."
"Your case interests me," she replied, simply. "I do not yet believe it."
"Then let me show you," he offered. Holding out a hand, he bid her to exit and follow him.
He led her down a set of stone steps that descended down to where the only light available was the source currently glowing in his hand.
They reached the heavily marked door that he opened with a gesture. Three sharp clangs resounded from within as the sigils shifted and realigned to allow access. Inside, the room was small and quiet. It was dimly, but better lit than the stairs leading to it by four additional illuminated orbs that sat on the floor.
A woman lay in the center, her hands and feet tied by sashes decorated with golden markings. The two guards who flanked her on either side seemed unnecessary, considering the state their prisoner was in.
The Councilman stepped to one side to allow his companion to observe the bound figure. The tangled hair, perhaps once red was nearly grey from the dust that caked every follicle. It hid most of the woman's face, though a small gleam of bright green could be seen from underneath the scraggly mess. She was awake. Whether or not she was alert was another matter. Streaks of blood caked her gray dress and protruding bones could be seen through the thin material.
The Abscido gazed at the huddled figure. "Show me," she instructed.
The Councilman nodded to one of the two guards, who took hold of the prisoner's arm, pulling her to her feet. She rose up like a rag doll, being held up by a string. The guard unsheathed a sharp knife from his belt and without a moment's pause, plunged the weapon into the woman's heart.
A muffled grunt came from the woman. When she was let go, she slid back to the ground, the knife's hilt now protruding from her chest. She landed on her side, but rolled onto her back. Her face now exposed, the Abscido could see the green eyes blinking. She continued to breathe.
Reaching down the guard pulled out the knife. As soon as the blade was out, the hole left in its wake sealed off. Other than the fresh blood stains on her dress, one would never think a wound had ever been there.
The woman began to laugh. Rather than sounding triumphant, she sounded frantic. As if she was nearly insane with desperation to find the humor in the situation.
While the Councilman inwardly winced at the horrifying noise, the Abscido circled the laughing figure. "You say a sorcerer has done this?"
The Councilman nodded. "He is being held in the South Tower."
"His magic holds onto her. It binds her to life," mused the Abscido. "I shall have that," she said to the guard, who still held the dripping blade that had failed to kill. He wordlessly passed it over. The Abscido held it up, watching the thick red liquid gather and slide off the end. "Such determination."
"Can this be undone?" asked the Councilman. "We have tried every means of destroying her and yet, nothing works. This abomination cannot remain."
"Of course," she replied, absently, turning her eyes on the woman's whose laughter soon faded into nearly inaudible sobs. The Abscido recalled the last time she had seen the woman, who at one point in the past been powerful enough to be granted an audience with the Abscido. She had been greatly favored back then.
Kneeling down by the quivering body, she addressed her. "You have been wronged, Lady Winifred," she said, not unkindly. "And I am not happy for it. Is there anything you wish for?" she asked, ignoring the apprehension she could feel coming off in waves from the Councilman standing behind her. She knew he had brought her in for only one thing, but there were old ties that the Abscido still wished to honor.
The woman stilled at the question. Silence hung for several moments before being interrupted by a thin, rasping voice. "Please…please, I wish to die. I wish to die."
The Abscido was given a short tour of where the Council had found them. The isolated cottage was small and perhaps tidy at one point. Now, the broken furniture and smashed pottery lined the floors. The sorcerer's workroom was the only place that seemed to remain untouched. Several tomes were stacked inside and scraps of parchment lined the walls. Her eyes wandered over the symbols. The parchments that covered the entire room were pieces all dedicated to just one spell. And the last he would ever cast. At times her gaze stilled over a few scrawls, in turns surprised and annoyed that a sorcerer could stun her with his calculations. While the spell lacked a few essential components that would allow for complete success, it was as close as a human had ever gotten.
Reaching out, she ripped down a few symbols, studying them. "Elegant," she murmured. She let them drop to the floor as she exited the cottage.
"Burn it down," she instructed to the waiting guards.
Gaining entrance to the sorcerer's prison was a longer process. After a set of stairs, now going upwards, the Councilman had led her through a series of chambers, all locked and sealed by sigils that had to be shifted and realigned with a focused staff than a gesture. The sounds of gears and locks clanged through the hallways as they approached closer and closer to the final door.
Behind it was a man.
Heavily decorated manacles encircled his wrists. A short, thick chain connected the twin iron bracelets to the floor, where a circle of sigils surrounded the kneeling figure. A blue sash, also marked with symbols was wrapped three times around the sorcerer's lips, rendering him mute.
Standing at the edges of the sigils, the Councilman's righteous fury just about masked the underlying fear behind the disdainful expression.
The pale eyes seemed relatively unmoved by the presence of the officious Councilman, though they did look minutely uneasy as they regarded the cloaked woman. When she approached him, her face remained impassive, though for the first time since his capture, he felt his heart speed up a fraction.
"I have seen the result of your magic," she said. "Despite the power behind it, the spell you cast was incomplete. The soul you pulled back into the corpse of your lover should never have returned. She feels the agony of a half-life. You damned her to a hell that has driven her mad."
She thought she saw remorse of some kind. But something else flickered within the blue eyes and it made her smile humorlessly. "Your obsession for her has made you cruel, Hrothbert of Bainbridge. She begged you to let her die and yet, even in the face of her suffering, you cannot bear to let her go. It is your magic that holds her here, forever keeping her with you."
She could see the truth of her words reflected in the sorcerer's face. Even with the knowledge of his own selfishness, his heart that had ruled the casting of that one spell, could not be prevailed upon to let go of the one he could not bear to be apart from.
But perhaps his arrogance had told him that with a little more time, he would have found a way to return her to her rightful mind. It did not matter now. There was no more time.
The Abscido moved behind the kneeling prisoner, tucking her hand into the folds of her sleeve. She glanced up at the Councilman, who gave her an affirming nod.
"Hrothbert of Bainbridge," stated the Councilman. "You have been found guilty of practicing the darkest of magic. The Council has sentenced you. The Abscido will see the punishment carried out."
From her sleeve, the Abscido drew out a small axe. It carried one sigil on the flat of its blade. Pulling back, she swung the weapon and made contact with the back of the sorcerer's skull.
Before re-entering the small square prison, she handed the guard's knife that had earlier failed to kill the immortal woman to the waiting Councilman. The blade was still stained with blood.
"Boil this along with his bones," she instructed. When the flesh has gone from the skull, bring it to me."
The Councilman gave a grim nod. "A punishment to fit his crime."
"His crime to her," she said, before going through the prison door.
By her instruction, the two guards were removed and she stood alone with the remaining prisoner.
"The one who has done this to you is gone, Lady Winifred," spoke the Abscido. "He is dead."
Already the magic that had been so tightly coiled around the mad woman, refusing to let her die no matter what the mortal injury, began to drain away.
"His magic can no longer keep you here. Do you still wish to die?"
The green eyes stared up at her. And for the first time, it seemed there was the spark of comprehension.
"He is…dead?" she whispered.
"The Council has sentenced him."
She turned her face away and it could not be determined if it was to hide fresh tears or a satisfied smile.
"Do you still wish to die?" the Abscido repeated.
"Yes," spoke the woman, her voice betraying the utter relief at the option.
Nodding, the Abscido stretched out a hand and thus Lady Winifred died for the second time.
The skull was smooth and seemingly unblemished, save for the hole left over from the cause of death.
The Abscido held it, gazing at the ivory contours. Even in death, the mixing of the once immortal blood with the bones of the man who made it so, gave the skull a pulsating energy. Lifting a hand, she pressed one fingernail to the top of skull and began to carve.
Be imprisoned in your skull, Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Be eternal. Let your soul remain here, weighed down by your sins. And be bound by the blood of whom you loved too well.
THE END