My legs trembled and my arms shook in fear, ten years old as I was. I was in the hands of the evil Grolims of Torak, and they were trying to find my father and mother, as well. I hoped Father and Mother would escape, but I wasn't sure. These evil Grolims of Torak could do almost anything, since Torak had given them enough power to be evil as they were. What would they do to Mother and Father if they caught them?
I paced up and down in the small room that resembled a cell. There was a hard cot there, but the rest of the room was bare. The door was thick and sturdy, and locked. The window was not barred, but it was so small that even I could not squeeze through it. I was trapped here, and they could do anything they wanted to with me. They could torture me or kill me or... even my active imagination could not conjure up suitable horrors, but the mere thought of a nameless horror, something no one could even speak up, was enough to make my chest seize up.
I hoped my Mother and Father would never be caught. I hoped they could use their deadly swords to fend off those evil minions of Torak. Maybe they would have a glorious battle and triumph and then come back to rescue me! Maybe they would smash down the walls of this horrible prison I had found myself in, and we would flee into the darkness of the forest, our feet as swift as eagles. Maybe they would kill the evil priests of Torak that they had fought for so long!
I felt a bursting pride swell up in me when I thought of Father, so silent and unobtrusive, but holding a deadly secret, another identity, a belief so strong he would go against his god for it, underneath that quiet exterior. It was just like the stories Mother had told me, of great heroes. She had told me that one day I would be great, and I would go out and triumph over evil and conquer bad and bring peace to the world. And I would! As soon as they rescued me, I would learn how to swordfight better and I would go with them and help them rescue more Thulls and more sacrificial victims! I thought of Mother, so beautiful and courageous, to follow Father even throughout the most dangerous part of the choice he had made: to ignore the evil or to fight it. I loved Mother, and Father was Father, the man I wanted to be like when I was older. And Maid...
My thoughts of glory jerked up abruptly as I remembered Maid, the sneering look on her face as she had shoved me toward the Malloreans who had tossed me in this prison that I was now in. Hot rage welled up inside of me, and flung myself at the cot, ripping at its straw with my fingers, red spots rising in front of my eyes. I yelled at the cot, it suddenly becoming the object of all my hatred, and started to tear it apart.
A harsh, rasping voice came from the doorway, "Don't do that, boy."
I spun, and saw the scarred Grolim standing there, his eyes burning as he looked at me.
"Well?" he asked as I stared at him.
"Go away," I spat at him, wishing my fingers were strong enough to strangle him.
"I don't think so." His black robes rustling, he entered, the door shutting with a clang behind him. I caught a glimpse of red Mallorean armor outside. "You have power, boy. Torak has commanded that all those with power be brought to him to be trained as his Grolims, to perform the worship services and convert the world to the Dragon God. And what Torak has commanded, shall be done. You will go to Torak, and give your power to him, and he will make you a Grolim."
I jerked myself away from his mesmerizing eyes. "I won't!" I shouted.
He looked startled, and angry. "Torak has commanded, boy. You will obey him."
"I won't!" I shouted again, white-hot fury bursting free again. "Grolims are evil! They kill innocent men for the pleasure of a demented god! Torak is crazy! Torak is evil! I wish I wasn't an Angarak! I wish he wasn't the god! My father fought Torak's will and saved the people YOU tried to kill, and I will too! I'll NEVER become a Grolim! NEVER! NEVER!"
Rage flashed across his face, and he grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my wrist harshly. "You're wrong, boy. You WILL obey. Or else..." He trailed off, then added, "We have something to show you."
I struggled, but he was too strong, and he dragged me out, into the corridor, and the Mallorean fell into step behind us. We marched down what seemed endless corridors and passages, sometimes passing other black-robed Grolims, but finally we came up behind a long line of marching Grolims, moving with a strange rhythmical pace, their hands clasped. They were chanting in deep tones, their cowls casting shadows over their scarred faces. For the first time I realized the reek of some foul odor was in the air, some burning smell. Suddenly a chill of foreboding struck me, shivering down my body to end in a horrible sick feeling in my stomach.
The Grolim's iron grip on my shoulder tightened, and we moved along the chanting line of Grolims, the Mallorean silent behind us. The chanting was growing louder, and the stench in the air stronger, penetrating the air like an inky blackness. Suddenly a shrill shriek split the air, and I stopped dead. The Grolim yanked at my arm and dragged me on as my insides congealed.
An arched doorway loomed ahead, and suddenly I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, with the dread that had suddenly turned me to ice. Another shriek echoed, a shriek of animal-like pain. Suddenly the most horrible thing I could think of was going through that doorway. I tried to tear away, to stop, my eyes wide in terror, to die before I would have to enter that doorway. Fear exploded through my brain, and I lashed out at the Grolim, trying to break free.
The chant grew louder, and then we passed through the arch of the doorway. It was a huge, dark room, so big that I couldn't see the ceiling, so far above. If it weren't for the wall opposite me, I would have thought I had stepped into a black void of emptiness. In the wall was dug an alcove, and in the throne was seated the most beautiful-and cruel-man I had ever seen. His presence filled the room with a dark, rank odor that told the lie to his beautiful appearance. It was tangible power, wrapping around the hearts of every Grolim in the room, and reaching out for more and more.
Suddenly the eyes in that beautiful face turned, and I was staring into the eyes of Torak, god of Angarak.
I was frozen, mesmerized by those terrible eyes, that power that had me fixed to the spot. I couldn't breathe or move, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to bow down before the god of Angarak and worship him, and offer him my power.
"He is very cruel, and egotistical. He demands sacrifices, and many Angaraks are slaughtered for our God." My mother's words echoed through my head, and I tore myself away from those mesmerizing eyes.
And then my gaze fell on the altar.
Fresh blood streaked its black surface, and the brazier beside it glowed, waiting eagerly for the next sacrifice. The red blood was mixed with the crusted black of dried blood, and the slimy color of internal organs. I felt the contents of my stomach come up into my throat. Were they going to execute me? My entire body tingled with fear? Were they going to sacrifice me and cut out my heart?
Suddenly my gaze focused on the Grolim who approached the altar, his hood down. In his hands he carried a blood-red pillow, and on it was a knife. A long, cruel, gleaming knife.
He held it up as an offering to the Dragon God who sat in the alcove. "Behold the instrument of thy will, Dragon God of Angarak, and behold him whose heart is to be offered unto thee."
And then they dragged Father up to the altar.
My vision swam before my eyes, but I couldn't move. Father was thrown roughly on the altar as he shouted something out defiantly at the Dragon God.
And then, with a cruel smile on his face, the Grolim cut out my father's heart. He screamed once, and then was silent. The Grolim lifted up the heart to Torak, and the body was dashed into the fire pit as the heart was lowered to Torak.
A great silence descended on me, and I watched in a daze, as if this was some dream I'd stumbled into. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
But then Mother was dragged out. Her eyes flickered across the watchers, and she saw me, and reached out a hand toward me, but they grabbed her and flung her onto the altar.
And they cut out her heart.
I could hear someone screaming in the distance, screaming again and again, and only when I had to draw breath did I realize it was me. Screaming and screaming and screaming...