Unoficially written for the 3 by 3 challenge.
He did his best to lose himself in the press of work, but with no success. (Davis Bunn's Elixir)
They had made a horrible roaring fire in one end of the church. (Barbara Kingslover's The Poisonwood Bible)
They were kept in the basement, near the jars of herbs, permanent impressions of my father's various limbs... (William Kowalski's Eddie's Bastard)
Panis Rahl, Lord of D'hara, made his way down the cobblestone path and into the dwelling of the 5 men and women known as The Sorcerers. Even he, the master of all of D'hara, had no knowledge of their actual birth names or past. But they knew his, and his future as well.
They had made a horrible roaring fire in one end of the church. Yes, they the great Sorcerers had taken a church as their dwelling. They did not however use the church to worship the creator, nor did they use it to serve the keeper. One would think it not a church, but instead a well adorned home.
The raging fire, was not in fact red or orange. It glowed the colors of the rainbow. All of them as the same time. Panis couldn't make sense of it, but that was not why he was here. He had come for their prophecy.
He walked to the fire and stared into it, as he had done before. One of The Sorcerers came to him.
"You worry about your son." she said in an erie voice.
Panis nodded. "He is not at all what I had expected. He cannot be a Rahl."
The woman shook her head, "There is no need for your worry Panis. He will be taken care of in the future."
"How?" he asked dumbfounded by her blunt response.
"Panis Rahl, you will sire another son, who will live to be named the seeker and kill his brother to free D'hara from his wrath." she said
Panis smiled. "I can undo what I have created."
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Little Darken Rahl looked up from his lesson when the big doors to the peoples palace sprung open. "Father!" he cried when Panis walked inside.
Panis glanced at Darken and gave him a nod, before continuing down the hall towards his bedchamber. He had some thinking to do about this prophecy. He laughed to himself. Thinking. He called to his advisor, and told him to bring a concubine. Thinking indeed.
Hours later, as Darken was finishing up his lesson, he saw his father coming towards him. Smiling, Darken ran to his father and hugged him around the knees. He looked up to his father and gave him an innocent smile, that only a seven-year-old could muster. "I missed you Father." he said, still hugging his father's legs. "Did you bring me anything?"
Panis Rahl disentangled his legs from his son's arms, and stepped backwards. "Don't you have fighting lessons soon?" he asked, eager to get Darken away from him.
Litttle Darken wiped his tears as he watched his father leave him. Why doesn't he care about me? Darken sullenly wandered off towards his chambers. He was not going to his fighting lesson today.
Panis opened the door to his son's chamber angrily, his breath heavy with liquor. "Why aren't you at your lesson?" he roared at the boy. Tears ran down Darken's cheeks. "You are such a disappointment. But it doesn't matter. Because I have been told great news."
Darken sniffed and stopped crying. "What kind of news Father?" he asked curiously
"I am going to sire a bastard child, that will grow up to kill you." Panis boasted. "Isn't that wonderful? He's going to be the Seeker of Truth."
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Thirteen-year-old Darken Rahl watched as yet another woman left his father's bed chamber with her face streaked with tears. It had been six years since his father had learned of the prophecy, and yet he continued to have his way with countless innocent women. Darken shook his head miserably. I will never take a woman into my bed unless she invites me to, unless I love her.
Darken walked to his chambers and through the secret passageway that led to the cellar. It was a solitary place that Darken went to in order to be alone, and away from his father and his whores.
Taking out his herbs and potions he set to work experimenting with his magic and making special formulas. The prophecy his father had told him of at such a young age haunted his thoughts, his every waking moment. He did his best to lose himself in the press of work, but with no success. It was impossible. The sound of broken glass shattered his thoughts, and brought him back to reality. Bending down to pick up the remains of the vile, he spotted a curious looking book with black leather bindings. He examined the front cover for a title. Ashkari wa kitabu. He stared at the book, and opened it up, reading the words written inside.
Smiling, Darken unsheathed the dagger and repeated the words in the book as it directed. "Askari, kuchukua mimi makao yako, ili roho yangu ili kuwa wako milele." Then, whe he had finished repeating the words, he plunged the dagger into his heart, and fell to the floor dying. What do you think about me now father?
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Darken finished the spell, and savagely thrust the knife into his victim's stomach, and twisted it around. Behind him, he heard his father's flustered gasp. Smiling he turned around to face his father. It had been nine years since his father had learned of the prophecy, and only three years since he had sold his soul to the Keeper of the Underworld, or Askari, as it was said in High D'haran.
Darken retrieved his knife from the body, and set it aflame. "Yes Father?" he said his voice so calmly, one wouldn't have guessed he had just killed an innocent man in the manner that he had. "Do you need something from me?"
Panis stared at his soon in horror. "I don't need anything from you Darken." he said. "The son that I told you about is to be born soon."
Darken's calm tone retreated as he stabbed his father in the side and then the back savagely. Panis Rahl fell to the floor with a loud thud, blood coming out of his mouth. "That, was your last mistake." Darken said as he twisted the knife. "Good bye, Father." And with that, Darken left the room, ordering the D'haran soldier that stood outside to dispose of his father's body.
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Lord Darken Rahl smiled, if you can call it that, as he sat in the throne he had killed his father for. This was what it was like to be King. He performed his duties with care, and took no whores to his bedchamber. The people respected and liked him. This was the way he liked it. He would not become his father.
Egremont, his loyal advisor and faithful friend, interrupted his thoughts. "My lord, I cannot find the elixirs you asked about. Where would they be?"
"They were kept in the basement, Egremont," he said simply. "near the jars of herbs."
He smiled again as Egremont went of in search of the elixirs. It was good to be King.
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"I would expect you to be my wife in every way." He said, his eyes wandering up and down her body hungrily. "As long as that is understood, I agree to all your terms, Kahlan Amnell."
Kahlan glared at Darken Rahl defiantly before answering. "Then I will be your Queen."
The distasteful words had barely left her mouth before Rahl grabbed her around the waist and took her into his bed chambers. He wasted no time removing her dress from her body and lowering her onto the bed. His greedy hands lifted her underskirt, but before his hands could make it past her knees, he heard her pitiful sobs.
Looking up, Darken Rahl saw tears falling from her eyes and a pained look on her face.
"And what do you know of love, except that you will never feel it, from anyone?"
"I will not be your puppet!"
"You know I will always despise you."
Rahl reached up and restored the underskirt to its proper positionand sat on the bed beside her. Slowly and cautiously, Kahlan opened here eyes and watched him, confused as to the abrupt and sudden change in the situation, and frightened.
"I told you I wouldn't lay a finger on you untill you invited me." he said his voice strangely comforting. "This is not the kind of invitation I meant. I won't take you untill you are ready Kahlan." And with that the lord of D'hara laid down next to her and closed his eyes.
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Thinking he was asleep, Kahlan brought her knees up to her chest and began to weep. "Richard" she sobbed out quietly.
Rahl's eyes snapped open. He sat up and grabbed her sholders tightly, pinning her to the bed so that she could not move and forced he to look at him. Rahl had snapped.
"You will not use his name while you are in my bed." he growled ferociously, soliciting more tears to fall down Kahlan's already tear-stained cheeks. "You will only say mine."
He took her right then and there, no longer listening to her pitiful cries and protests. No longer caring about keeping his word.
Only when he had finished violating her did his mask of rage subside to reason. Darken Rahl was ashamed at what he had done.
He turned to the broken confessor beside him, her tattered underskirt damp with her blood. "Get out." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "GET OUT!"
Kahlan struggled to get out of the bed and scrambled out of the room without so much as bothering to find the remains of her dress, leaving Darken Rahl alone in his bedchambers to reflect upon what he had done.
Darken brought his hands up, and covered his face, thinking about all the other horrible things that he had done in the past years. When did I become the very man that my father was? The man he thought I would never live to be. He wrung his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. "Are you proud of me now, Panis Rahl?" He yelled. "Are you proud of your son?"
A/N: The spells and the name of the book are in Swahili and translate as follows:
The book is called The keeper's book
The spell is Keeper, take me to your dwelling, so that my soul might be yours forever.