Must be strong.
Fire, screams. Taunting him.
Must be strong.
His parents. Trapped.
Must be strong.
His sister. Dead.
Must be strong. Must be strong.
"Must be strong!"
All of them. Lost forever.
Clang.
Echoing through the forest. An unnatural sound in such a peaceful place.
Clang.
Zelgadis ignored it. He swung with his sword.
Clang.
The sound was on top of him. Again he attacked the air in front of him.
Clang!
His sword flew down in a perfect arc, imbedding its blade deep in a fallen tree trunk. Zelgadis released the hilt. He turned around to stare into his grandfather's face. His grandfather stared back through unseeing eyes. Blind at birth, but watching like a hawk. Rezo, the Red Priest, a well- known holy icon in the world today.
"Grieving like this won't help." Rezo spoke. His closed eyes stared straight ahead of him, not seeing Zelgadis. "But if it is strength you want." He turned his head to face his grandson, "I can make you strong. But in return you must help me."
Must be strong.
Always taunting him.
He must be strong!
Zelgadis looked back up at Rezo. He was family, and a powerful member at that. If he could help him, then why not return the favor?
"Well?" Rezo asked, "Do you accept."
A feeble answer. "Yes," Then a stronger more determined approval. "Yes!"
"Good." Rezo lifted his staff, and struck the ground once more.
Clang!
He pointed the rounded end at Zelgadis.
Zelgadis didn't know what to expect.
But not this.
Not the pain.
Not the twisting of bones in his body. Not the agony in his head. Not the deformity of his soul.
He screamed. It was the only thing he knew to do. A scream wrenched from the depths of his lungs, driven on by the pain and agony. It went on for all eternity.
Then it stopped.
His suspended body dropped to the ground like a rag doll. Zelgadis could feel the gravel of the ground rub against the rock. The rock of his skin.
He stared at his hands. Not flesh, but the cold-gray blue of stone. He felt his face. Small stones protruded the surface in a number of areas. His hair was stiff and twanged like wire. His body was deformed.
Slowly Zelgadis became aware of Rezo. His grandfather was still standing there, admiring his handy work. "It will take some time to get used to," He said in such and uncaring tone, "but you will." The blind man smiled.
"Don't be late for dinner."
Fire, screams. Taunting him.
Must be strong.
His parents. Trapped.
Must be strong.
His sister. Dead.
Must be strong. Must be strong.
"Must be strong!"
All of them. Lost forever.
Clang.
Echoing through the forest. An unnatural sound in such a peaceful place.
Clang.
Zelgadis ignored it. He swung with his sword.
Clang.
The sound was on top of him. Again he attacked the air in front of him.
Clang!
His sword flew down in a perfect arc, imbedding its blade deep in a fallen tree trunk. Zelgadis released the hilt. He turned around to stare into his grandfather's face. His grandfather stared back through unseeing eyes. Blind at birth, but watching like a hawk. Rezo, the Red Priest, a well- known holy icon in the world today.
"Grieving like this won't help." Rezo spoke. His closed eyes stared straight ahead of him, not seeing Zelgadis. "But if it is strength you want." He turned his head to face his grandson, "I can make you strong. But in return you must help me."
Must be strong.
Always taunting him.
He must be strong!
Zelgadis looked back up at Rezo. He was family, and a powerful member at that. If he could help him, then why not return the favor?
"Well?" Rezo asked, "Do you accept."
A feeble answer. "Yes," Then a stronger more determined approval. "Yes!"
"Good." Rezo lifted his staff, and struck the ground once more.
Clang!
He pointed the rounded end at Zelgadis.
Zelgadis didn't know what to expect.
But not this.
Not the pain.
Not the twisting of bones in his body. Not the agony in his head. Not the deformity of his soul.
He screamed. It was the only thing he knew to do. A scream wrenched from the depths of his lungs, driven on by the pain and agony. It went on for all eternity.
Then it stopped.
His suspended body dropped to the ground like a rag doll. Zelgadis could feel the gravel of the ground rub against the rock. The rock of his skin.
He stared at his hands. Not flesh, but the cold-gray blue of stone. He felt his face. Small stones protruded the surface in a number of areas. His hair was stiff and twanged like wire. His body was deformed.
Slowly Zelgadis became aware of Rezo. His grandfather was still standing there, admiring his handy work. "It will take some time to get used to," He said in such and uncaring tone, "but you will." The blind man smiled.
"Don't be late for dinner."