Missing
By The Last Dragonologist
Main Page Summary: "Isn't something missing? Isn't someone missing me?" Numair is being held prisoner by the crazy Masadans. No-one will help him. Daine doesn't love him. Not now. And he hadn't done anything wrong. He is a sacrifice for the Gods. Just for having magic.
First thing I must mention has nothing to do with this story. I have a few apologies to make. I am really sorry if any of my reviews seem to be flames. I do not mean it. I know I have said some not nice things to people but a special apology to Narm's Briton 44- The Scientist. This is back when I was the girl who success forgot but you didn't like some of the things in the review coz you wrote to me. And CrazyHorseGirl88 most your stories that are sad I say some pretty nasty stuff but know that I don't mean it. I just get very upset if anything happens to Numair. And Ed- sorry about the review in Summer Rain and for neglecting your stories lately. The internet has crashed so I go on my daddy's laptop but I only get enough time to upload stuff. I know that I have said mean things in reviews to a lot of you and I am really sorry. I'll attempt to refrain from it in future.
Second: Thank you so much to all the people who read my stories. You don't get enough recognition.
Now, I got Evanescence's new CD Anywhere but Home as a Christmas gift. I have two new favourite songs. Breathe No More and my first Evanescence song fiction Missing. This story works best if you are listening to song no 14 on the CD (Missing) so if you don't have it race out to Sanity and buy it, then put it on repeat (no pirating. It's bad to do that.) And did Evanescence release a CD before Fallen? What was it? I want it.
Sorry if the lyrics are a little incorrect. But I changed some anyway to make this better.
Enjoy.This does not line up with the books..
Missing
Please, please forgive me
Four weak rays of the sunset came through the barred window. The three iron bars separated the light into parallel beams.
A bony hand grasped the outer bar, and a once handsome face, now gaunt and sorrow filled, was resting on another, staring at the sunset; his gentle eyes were full of trouble and despair, but hope refused to leave them.
How had he gotten into this mess? He had been stuck in this small cell for just under three months. How did he get here?
He rubbed his stubbled face with a sigh. Moping did nothing but stop him dying of boredom. It did nothing to help. But then again, nothing would help. Not even his Gift.
Two copper plated iron rings sat around his thin wrists. They would have fallen off the living skeleton if not for his abnormally large hands. He looked at the rings in disgust. Those two pieces of metal blocked all his magic. It hurt.
Hunger and heartbreak gnawed and rested heavily on him. The frigid air made him ache from the cold, for icy winds whipped through the clothes that could best be described as rags. What had he done to get in a place like this?
He didn't know what had gone wrong between them but he did know that it had led to his arrest.
It had started with infidelity. Not his own, at least, not at first. It was his lover that had betrayed him.
Years ago he had believed that their love was unbreakable. He had thought it would never waver, never fall to powers. But obviously, he was wrong; her love for him had faded. But she hadn't woken up, as they put it.
He had been walking idly back from teaching a class, cheerful. The pages had done so well today that he was able to dismiss them early. They were learning about focuses and he knew allot about them. They were all impressed at his of Daine. He reached the door to his suite of rooms and beamed at the two nameplates on the door. He wished that Veralidaine Sarrasri said Veralidaine Salmalín.
He entered the room. That was when it all started to go downhill.
He stepped inside to find a robe on the floor. He picked it up. It wasn't his or Daine's; neither of them liked red. But as he looked around he saw clothes that had been thrown to the floor. Some of these clothes were Daines. The garments led to his bedchamber door. He heard Daine giggle inside and muffled speech.
That spurred questions: How long had it been since he had heard her laugh, seen her smile at him?
He tentatively pushed the door open. And found his worst nightmare on the bed.
On the bed was Daine beneath a large man. They wore nothing but a bed sheet and an anti-pregnancy charm.
He felt weak. His knees trembled and his ears roared. He felt empty. Surely that wasn't Daine. Mithros willing, not Daine.
But then she looked up and he knew his hope was false. It was Daine. Her big eyes widened.
"Numair, you're early."
All he could do was gape. But he finally managed a croak "How long has this been going on?"
The man had climbed off Daine and now Numair saw that he was at least ten years older than Numair himself. What had gone wrong?
"Six months." The man answered his Carthakian accent thick.
Numair flew. He spun on heel and ran from the room, his black winter cloak fluttering behind him like black wings. He didn't know where he was running but all he could do was run and run. He had to get away. Finally he had to stop. He fell to his knees, gasping. His spun but there were no tears in his eyes. He looked around, dazed. It was the Undine's pool. This was where they usually ran.
He hurt. His heart, oh his heart, it felt broken. It ached in his chest, causing him pain, pain that no mortal should ever be made to suffer, ain that could end lives.
What had he done wrong? What had he done to deserve this kind of torture?
He needed someone, to confide in them. This wound was something that solicitude or time could heal. So, regaining his composure, Numair slowly made his way into town. He knew the way to The Lonely Minstrel like the back of his large hand. Inside was full for that time of the day but straight away he could see his friend in the throng of men. Celaine, his first friend in Tortall, was walking around, serving cheap wine and ale to the men. She winked and smiled at the men as she passed; that was the other half of her job. In return for food and board she gave anyone with a spare gold coin enjoyment in bed.
Her clothes were typically that of a prostitute for her shirt had a low neckline and emphasised her large chest and her skirt was much shorter than necessary.
She looked up and raised a hand so she could see who it was. The room was dingy and the light outside blinded her. She saw that it was her friend and smiled a genuine smile. But then she saw that he was pale and indicated for him to sit at a table in the corner.
She cleared her tray of wine before going to sit beside him.
"What's up Numair?" she asked
"I, I caught Daine, in, in bed with, another man." He whispered and as he completed the sentence a few small tears leaked out of his eyes. He wiped them impatiently and as he told her what had been happening over the last year he realised that Daine had not been very loving in a long time. She stayed away and rarely responded to his kisses and signs of affection.
When he finished his tale the call girl gave him a sympathetic hug.
"Oh Numair, That's awful! I'm always here if you ever need someone to talk to." She paused and looked into his deep eyes. Her green eyes were so mesmerising. "Or to love," she finished with a whisper. And she slowly leant forward and their lips touched for a second.
Numair had always thought that Celaine never liked him as a lover. But there was something was released in him that Daine's kisses never had. He supposed that she had never wanted to intrude on the relationship he and Daine had.
Celaine pulled away but felt two hands on the nape of her neck, pulling her back. They kissed gently until they heard a choked sob. He spun, nearly hitting Celaine.
There was Daine, fully clad, running out of the inn.
He ran out after her "Daine! Daine wait!"
She stopped running as she reached a small fountain. She collapsed in tears against it. He knelt beside her.
"How could you do that? How could you get so upset and then run to that whore?!"
Over the next half hour there was heated debating but it ended as Daine threw her arms around his neck.
They had forgiven each other.
But this had lasted only a few weeks. The reason- Daine's prostitution
The man he'd seen her with was one of her clients. So, once again he ran to Celaine. That ended his love with Daine. Daine saw him talking to his friend and she cried to Alanna, claiming that he had been cheating on her.
So by then, Numair had lost his lover, who also took his home, and all his friends but Celaine and Harailt. He pleaded for clemency, but received none. Thankfully, he got to keep his job, for his magic was still the best in Tortall.
When his majesty (the king would not allow him to call him 'Jon' anymore) sent a delegation to Masada, Numair went with.
But, like his once ardent love, Masada was going to the wolves.
They all screamed that magic had to be destroyed. So, Numair had helped everyone out of the country, but was captured himself and was thrown in a cell, just big enough that he could lie down.
He knew he was doomed.
But I won't be home again
He would never return to Tortall. Each day was torture.
He rolled onto his side and winced as he felt the pain in his back. He had been whipped last week.
The insane Masadans believed that the more tortured the sacrifice was, the happier the Gods would be with them.
But, Numair had to be alive during the sacrifice. The winter solstice was three days away. Three days left of life. But could he really call this life?
Numair had almost given up hope of an escape attempt. No-one cared enough for him to risk their own lives to save his. And Celaine was incapable of rescuing him.
Maybe one day you'll look up
And barely conscious
You'll say to know one.
"Isn't something missing?"
He knew he shouldn't damn anyone, but Daine had put him through more pain than anything a man or woman who loved another should have to suffer.
He wanted her hurt. He wanted her to look back in years to come and miss him and her heart aching as his was now. He wanted her to be alone.
She had ceased loving him years ago. All he wanted was for his life to end. He hated Daine but, gods, he loved her. She had been the lagging one who had got him captured.
But love like that didn't end suddenly. He had loved her for so long, since she was a meagre teenager. He had dreamed of having children and raising a family with her. He had dreamed of growing old with her. They had seemed so in tune that he had thought they would die simultaneously.
He always had known when she was terrified, or when she was having a bad dream, even when she was on a mission.
He would lie awake until he was sure she was fine. Then he would send a speaking sell to double check.
How did love like that just end?
You won't cry for my absence, I know
You forgot me long ago
She wouldn't miss him. He would be surprised if she shed a single tear for his absence. She had stopped caring for him. But he hadn't.
She was an always-there presence in his mind. Little things reminded him of the corpse of their love.
A week ago a young woman with brown curls had been dragged out, screaming for her lover. He had followed, like a silent skeleton.
They had not returned. That should have been him and Daine; dying together.
The couple's trial had been before his. They had sat there together, in each others arms the whole waiting time. That was the way love should be.
Am I that unimportant?
Am I so insignificant?
No-one had been to his cold stone almost tomb for a week. His existence hadn't been acknowledged since his lashings.
Could it be that he was forgotten? He hadn't been fed or given water. Was he so unimportant? Was he really that insignificant?
Isn't something missing?
Daine sat on the window seat, staring out at the moon, sipping a cheap wine.
It was three days until the winter solstice. She should have been with friends or family. Instead she felt emptiness in her soul, like a part of her was missing. The moon cast an eerie glow over the snow-covered grounds. One beam of light landed on the bed. It was abnormally large and extremely comfortable.
Who had this room once belonged to? Numa? No, Numiar? No, Numair. That was it.
What had happened to that bastard? Was he alive? Was he looking at the same moon?
Isn't someone missing me?
Numair gazed up at the moon, its celestial beauty awing him. He wondered if Daine was looking up at the same moon.
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me, not now
Though I'd die to know you love me
I'm all alone
So now Numair was a sacrifice, destined to die at midnight on Midwinter. He wasn't sure how he would be killed but he was terrified.
He kept telling himself he was dying for Daine and Celaine and Tortall. But it did him no good. He didn't deserve this.
He was going to die without Daine in his arms. He would die alone.
Isn't someone missing me?
Please, please forgive me
But I won't be home again
I know what you do to yourself
Numair couldn't believe what Daine was doing to herself.
She was a prostitute. Not that he had anything against them (His best friend was one) but for years she used to burst into tears every time someone said and Numair were in bed together. She stopped after a few years, but those memories of her doing so lived on in his mind.
What had driven her to this? Why was she subjecting herself to this?
He knew he should've hated her. But he loved her through thick and thin.
Gods, he wanted her back so much.
I breathe deep and cry out loud
"Isn't something missing?
"Isn't someone missing me?"
Even though I'm the sacrifice
Numair curled up tighter but suddenly jerked up, ignoring the jolts of pain running through his body.
A… thing inside him broke free and suddenly he was screaming, crying out. When he finally stopped he became aware that cold tears were flowing down his bloody, grimy face.
The salty emotion ran into his cuts, make them sting nd practically sizzle.
Would anyone remember him? Would Daine care about he fact he was dead? Would she miss him? Or was he just to be remembered as one of the many sacrifices of the Masadans?
You won't try for me
Not now
Though I'd die to know you love me
I'm all alone
Isn't someone missing me?
Two days later, the door to his cell opened. He looked up, dazed.
It was no rescue attempt, but two butch women.
They yanked him to his feet, but he stumbled from weakness, so he was half dragged up three floors.
They reached a large oak dor and threw him inside the room, behind it. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain.
He looked up and found himself thrown into a lukewarm bath and ointment being rubbed onto him, to clean and cure the wounds that plagued his body. He was dressed in a long white robe that was tied at the waist. He was fed a meal of warmish soup, only slightly stale bread and clean water.
Then he was put in a bed, not a comfortable one albeit, but a warm one and a bed at that. But Numair did not sleep. He closed his eyes and dozed uncomfortably; he was wary of what was happening and was thinking and contemplating his life.
When he opened them he saw that the sunset was evanescent. The door opened and he was this time taken by two priests.
The priests were joined by seven guards, all men. They began a long walk up the mountain on which Masada was built. Once they reached the summit it was nearly midnight. It was nearly time.
And if I bleed,
I'll bleed
Numair was roughly placed on a stone altar in the centre of the mountains summit. He was laid on his, now numb, back.
His arms were spread and the copper rings on his wrist dissolved into a copper patch where they melted together.
His feet were also tied.
The robe he was wearing was loosened so his chest and abdomen were left in the icy air.
It was queer up on that mountain. Ten feet away winds and snow raged in a ferocious blizzard. But on the top was completely still and silent, like a protective bubble had been placed over it.
He heard the clock chime and the guards began to walk down the mountain. It was a quarter to midnight. The priests started chanting. They were using magic! Numair was missing something. Either that or they told everyone that they didn't.
Numair smelt blood. The tang filled his head and gave him nausea. He looked at the priests and saw magic surrounding them as they chanted. It floated up towards the heavens. The taller priest stepped forward, out of the trance they were in. He had a ruby encrusted dagger in his hand. The emotionless face loomed over his. He tried to shut his eyes, to shut out the pain he knew he would feel. He tried but found he could not close them for more than a second.
The knife neared his body and he felt a ripping pain in his stomach. He whimpered
Knowing you don't care
And if I die for you
The knife slowly drew a shallow cut across to the other side of his stomach. It stabbed again.
He gasped, whispering "Daine, Daine, oh gods magelet, help me. Please help me. Please save me,"
But no animals sounded or came. She didn't care. Not for him.
Just to dream of you
I'll be without you there
I his mind he saw her. Tears began to flow from his eyes. He clasped the remnants of his focus and wept silently as he felt the knife draw three shallow cuts along his arms.
Though it made no sense what he was saying he whispered "Daine, Daine, I love you. But, but I hate you. Gods, don't forget me. Don't ever forget me,"
They were his last words.
Isn't something missing?
Isn't something…?
Daine sat up in her bed. She felt in her heart that Numair was on the brink of death. In her mind she heard his voice whisper 'Daine, Daine, I love you. But, but I hate you. Gods, don't forget me. Don't ever forget me,'
He, he loved her. Could it be that she loved him too? Could he be the thing that had been missing from her life? Ever since she had left him, she'd been empty. Could he be her last piece.
"I won't love." She whispered into the gloom "I'll never forget you,"
She knew how much she loved him.
But she had lost him.
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me
He felt the knife slice a Masadan cross into his cheeks, his forehead and throat, just enough to draw blood.
Numair barely gasped. What was the point? He was lost. He had nothing. He had lost the two things in his life that had kept him alive: Daine and Hope
Not now
Though I died to know you loved me
The copper irons on his wrists flowed away from his wrists. His Gift flooded back.
It HURT! He wondered why the priests were doing that when he remembered that he was being sacrificed for his magic.
I'm all alone
Just then, the clock began to strike midnight. The knife was lowered closer and closer to his chest.
It was thrust into his heart, the slim blade sliding with ease between his ribs. He screamed.
Isn't something missing?
By the final chime, Numair Salmalín was dead.
Isn't
someone
missing
me?