Yspaddaden - Chapter 5

 Bald

Ynwfn, Anaij.

Today was not a good day for the king.

AethelBald, or, as he was more commonly known by those closest to him, simply Bald, stood in the center of the room, staring at the far wall. Not many would be able to tell that he was deeply angry, but those who knew him best could guess accurately at his mood. He did not stand decked out in regal robes as many kings did but wore simple, yet stylish and expensive clothing. He stood at a tall six feet, his muscles telling the tale of countless hours of fighting and combat. His brown hair was cropped short, his goatee long. His left hand grasped and toyed with a gold ring. He flipped it from one finger to the next, numerous hours of practice causing him to be quite deft at the act. A long scar traced the underside of his neck from ear to ear. The normally white dead tissue shone red with his anger. His grey eyes stared raptly at the wall, studying, contemplating, calculating. His lips were spread slightly, showing his white teeth. He tapped his foot in impatience as he waited. The gold ring flashed in the firelight.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the locked door. Bald did not move as his anticipated guest hurried toward him. He simply waited. The door to the chamber eventually flew open and crashed against the wall. Bald had his back to the door, but he knew exactly who was there. Toth was a small man, barely five feet high, and everything was small about him. His tiny feet pattered against the stone floor, his tiny arms swung back and forth in rhythm, his tiny mouth huffed as excess air escaped his tiny lungs. As he reached Bald he fell to his tiny knees and clasped his tiny hands. His tiny eyes roved the floor as he spoke.

"My lord Bald, news from the retrieval party."

Bald did not move. And neither did Toth. Bald took a sick pleasure in taunting the tiny man, but his devotion to the king almost made the torture justified. The king waited another second or two before slowly turning, the gold ring spinning in his hand. He glanced at the tiny man on the vast floor and, despite his barely contained anger, gave a tiny smile. Which quickly disappeared. Bald said nothing as he turned yet again and strode toward the throne that he had been facing when Toth had arrived. He climbed the three steps that led up to the dais and turned once more to sit casually in the soft chair. After positioning himself comfortably, he spoke.

"Tell me."

Toth rose and stood in the middle of the room, wringing his hands nervously. The vast chamber made him look even smaller than he actually was. The room was carved in a perfect triangle, the entrance at one corner, the throne sitting against the far wall. The ceiling was a good twenty five feet up and windows lined the other two walls to let as much light in as possible. Three chandeliers hung at each corner, not lit at the moment. A dome cut out the middle of the ceiling, covered with glass, allowing even more light to stream through. This was one of Bald's favourite rooms in the castle, and he spent much time here. Toth interrupted his thoughts by speaking.

"The convoy you sent out after the mercenary followed him to a village several days journey from here. The runner they sent has reported this. They managed to capture the young woman he was traveling with when he left the city. The mercenary escaped."

Bald did not move. He simply sat there, staring at the small man. Toth looked nervous. And so he should. Had Bald wanted him to, Toth would be dead in mere seconds. It was one of the things he liked best about being king. He could do whatever he wanted. If he wanted someone dead, they were dead. If he wanted something retrieved, it was. His word was law and all else were to obey it. It was not a very smart thing to anger a king. Bald rose from his seat and started toward Toth. He had to give the man credit. Even though he was shaking visibly, he stood his ground, waiting until Bald stood within a few feet of him. Bald stood there, taking pleasure in his discomfort. But this could not last forever. Things needed to happen.

"Go and call Marus."

Toth turned so quick he almost slipped on the floor and fell. He recovered himself, running a few strides, then turning to bow swiftly to Bald before turning again and running out of the room. Bald did not move, simply waited. Toth would be back directly and while sitting on a large throne was intimidating, that was not the position he needed to be in when Marus arrived. He needed discomfort, he needed nervousness. He needed fear.

The door swung open again and Toth scurried inside, followed by a large man. The man had short black hair and large muscles. He was decked out in the garb of the palace soldiery and was holding his hat in one hand. The medals on his chest told stories of numerous battles and achievements that had been awarded him by the previous king, AethelKil. Bald would never have decorated a single man such. Once that happened they grew cocky, and it became harder to keep them in line. Better to have slaves then servants.

Marus strode up to AethelBald with confidence, a smirk on his face. Toth hurried to one side of the room and stood there, watching. Bald had not moved since Toth had exited the room. Marus bowed and stayed that way, waiting for a responsive bow to allow him to straighten up. Bald would not give him that pleasure.

"Marus. General of my army. Lord of my soldiers. Leader of my fighting men. You are a very successful man. You have won many awards. You are the one they tell stories about in the inns and pubs at night. You are the one who fought ten men for six hours straight. You are the man who slew one, two, three trolls. Killed many goblins. Tortured and destroyed countless men. And you are the man who has disappointed me by failing in a simple task."

Marus began to rise out of his bow.

"My lord, I…"

Bald brought his hand down in a vicious chop to the back of Marus's neck. He fell to the ground in a heap, crying out in pain, his hat spinning across the floor. Bald placed a foot on his shoulder blades.

"Stay down."

Marus seemed to almost struggle, but thought better of it and stayed lying on the floor, breathing heavily. Bald began to circle him.

"I tell you to do one thing for me. Capture a known outlaw. One man. One, single man. Granted a large one, smart, worthy of his sword, but one man. Nothing more. I command the most powerful army in all of Aropod. Ten thousand men reside here at the capitol alone, and another fifty thousand I could have here within the month. I am allied with the countries of Najja, Uisnech and Idris. The fleet of Epona is stronger than any, and I am friends with the elven-king who is Commodore over them. All I need do is ask and I could have within my borders a fighting force worth two hundred thousand men, elves and dwarves. Two hundred thousand. Against one. And somehow, that one man has won. He has escaped, and all I have in his place is a vuzhong whore!"

At this the king kicked Marus directly to the side of the head. Marus cried out and rolled on the floor. Bald followed him, kicking and punching.

"You are my general! You are my right hand man! You are the one I tasked with this deed! I trusted you to bring me one man and you have for me instead the garbage of my country! What say you to that?!"

Marus had by now curled up in one of the corners of the room, trying to shield himself from the onslaught. His face and hands dripped blood. Bald cursed again. Now he would have to have someone come in here and clean up the floor! Bald calmed himself and walked a few feet away, staring at the back wall of the room, behind the throne. On it was a gigantic painting, depicting the map of the known world. It was highlighted with bright colors and showed everything that they knew to exist. It covered the entire wall, Ynwfn took up easily a fourth of the space, and yet the space between the capitol of Anaij and where the outlaw Yspaddaden was last known to be was a mere few feet. Right in my own backyard!

"I'm sorry, my lord. My king, please forgive me. I will try harder, I will do this for you. Please, give me one more chance and I guarantee, within the month you will have this man before you, here in this very room, beaten and humiliated. He will be yours to do with as you will, and his quest will be abandoned. Take my life, take my sons life, but please, do not take this task from me. Give me one more chance to redeem myself in your eyes."

As he talked he spit blood all over the floor. Bald looked at him in contempt, then slowly started walking toward him, his hands behind his back.

"Yspaddaden is a contemptuous thief. He is still loyal to AethelKil, a dead man! He has no duty, and no respect for my crown. His quest is traitorous to me and to Ynwfn. No longer will you send out other men to do your deed. Go yourself, either to finish this or to flee to the other side of the planet and hide in the darkest part of Vran. Within the month you will hand me the head of Yspaddaden, Cursed One. Either that or I will be feeding your head to my dogs. Choose and act."

"You have my word, lord of Ynwfn. I promise you, I will bring the head of him to you. I promise."

Marus bowed his head and clasped his hands. Bald slowly pulled the knife from the back of his belt in one smooth and noiseless motion.

"I have no doubt of it."

Marus screamed and Toth gave a sharp squeak of fear. Bald rose with his prize and turned to leave the throne room.

"Toth, remove this slime from my sanctuary."

Toth scurried to do his kings bidding. Marus lay on the floor, quivering in fear and pain. Bald strode toward the door, toying yet again with the ring in his left hand and with Marus's right eyeball in the other.

A smile was on his face.

AethelBald stood in the middle of his bedroom, chest bare, hands full of small darts, throwing them methodically at the eyeball that he had pinned to the far wall. Cutting the organ out of his generals face had been very therapeutic, but there was still a lot of anger and disappointment he needed to vent.

When AethelKil died not three months ago, Bald had rejoiced greatly. Ynwfn elected their kings, so there was a bit of work that he had had to do in able to gain the throne. Bald was no stranger to politics, and he had bargained with the right people, manipulated whom he will, slept with those he wanted, all in order to become the most popular man among all the politicians of Ynwfn. His work had paid off and when they announced elections to be held a week after AethelKil's death, Bald had been ready. Saying just the right things to just the right kinds of people had given him enough leverage to sway the vote his way, allowing him to reign over the greatest country on Aropod uncontested. It was something he had worked his entire life for and now he had it. He had achieved his lifes dream. Of course, there was plenty of work to do even now that the throne was his. After he had been crowned the previous week, there were plenty of people who grew suspicious and many who looked to him to fulfill the promises that he had made. His work was far from over. Smoothing over rough spots, convincing some people that he had not sought this position, convincing others that his promises still stood and he would grant them when he was able was hard work. Most people didn't understand how bright and smart a person needed to be to enter into politics, much less win at anything and become what one wished. He had built himself his own personal empire and no one stood in his way. Not even the meddlesome minotaurs. They had been content to stay in their own country for several years now. Ever since their leader, Kundry Hull had died, their lust for blood had abated somewhat. War with them used to be a way of life, but they seemed not to want it at the moment. Bald was not a war-hungry man. If he could live in his grand castle quietly and contently, so be it. His life seemed to be perfect. Wealth, power, women, influence, peace. And it was all beginning to crash down around his head for the work of one lone mercenary.

Yspaddaden.

Just thinking about the man was enough to make Bald's blood boil and he fired off three darts at the eyeball. One of them severed the tendon that it hung from, making the thing fall to the floor. A few specks of blood spattered the expensive carpet and Bald cried out in fury, turning and throwing the handful of darts in no particular direction. One of them pierced the curtain that hung over his bed and the woman lying there gasped in fright. Bald tried to calm himself before walking slowly over to the bed. He didn't even notice as his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gold ring. He played with it as he pulled the curtain aside and looked at the courtesan lying there. Beautiful indeed. If there was one thing that Anaij excelled in, it was their prostitutes. He smiled and she smiled back at him. What was her name again? Ah well. It didn't matter. He climbed up on the mattress with her and laid his head in her lap.

"I'm sorry my dear. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm very frustrated at the moment and I took my anger out on the innocent curtain. It's tough running a country."

The woman leaned back against the wall and began running his short hair through her fingers. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

"I'm sure it is my lord."

"No one understands. No one knows what I have done to reach the place where I am right now. I doubt even anyone understands how it was that I managed to be here, in this castle. Not too many men around here could do such a feat, and I dare anyone to take it away from me. Sometimes I wish I had a wife, someone to share my thoughts with, someone who would understand me. Someone who could recognise the abilities I have. But I think I'm doomed to being a lonely, yet powerful genius."

Dastra

Dastra yawned and rubbed her bare neck. She had been with Bald several times, both before and after he had become king. It had gotten to the point where he requested her when he remembered her name, and sometimes, on a lonely night, she would seek him out. In the months being with him, Dastra had become quite powerful herself. She still resided at the compound, yet her life was vastly different from the other girls who lived there. She had grown quite wealthy, for a prostitute, wealthy enough to buy her freedom and have her bells cut off. She still sold her skills for money, but it was no longer something that she was. She often used her skills to advance herself in society, and among those who did not know what she was or had been, she was widely accepted as a peer, as someone to be friends with. She enjoyed going to parties, especially those populated by familiar men whose wives loved her, yet did not know her. When those men saw her entering the ballroom, it was comical to watch them all scamper to their wives and love on them, all the while passing her looks and smiles and winks. She had a good life. And it was all due to the man who lay in the bed next to her. Bald was a talkative person, and he found solace in her. When they were alone, he seemed not to realise how much actually spilled from his lips, secrets of the kingdom, plots and plans of his, the inner workings of the people of high society and of politics. She had learned all she had of manipulation and maneuvering within groups of people from his bedside ramblings. As long as she kept quite and asked the right kinds of questions, he seemed obliged to tell her anything she wished to know. And that stuff he didn't tell her she learned from the palace staff. The second most knowledgeable people when it came to the secrets of royalty. For some reason, most people assumed that servants and slaves had no ears, or at least had no tongues to relay what was heard. But most had both, and all who did used them to the best of their abilities. Dastra simply happened to be one of the best at it.

She looked down at his face. He still had his eyes closed and the anger that had been radiating from him before had abated and he simply spoke. He was talking now of the rogue mercenary that had evaded his clutches not one week ago now. She had heard this speech several times over the last few days, and she was growing tired of it. It was the same thing. Bald didn't like the late king Kil and thus he despised the people who were or had been loyal to him, so when he heard of a man who had been a close friend and confidant of Kil, who was also out on a daring quest of the kings to find some rare jewel, Bald obviously grew incensed and angry and sent men after him to stop the warrior, but he had somehow evaded the soldiers clutches and was even now running free through the countryside.

Dastra could care less.

This was the sort of thing that she ignored. She continued to stroke his hair, nodding and grunting acknowledgement when needed, but she had no desire to become inflamed with passion about a man who was neither bothering the king or kingdom, nor even against him and his reign. He was simply out looking for some stone that had been hidden for centuries and had no name. She could not understand why he cared so much for this one man and his companion, why he could not just let the matter slide, why his escape had made him so…

"What was that you said?"

Dastra could not help but interrupt the king. Bald opened his eyes and looked at her in annoyance. She rarely, if ever, spoke while he was speaking. She wasn't too sure why she had now, but something he had said had caused her to leap from her trance and pay rapt attention. She smiled coyly at him and leaned down to give him a kiss.

"I appologise my lord. That was a curious name you just mentioned. What did you say about his companion?"

Bald sat up and folded his arms.

"I was simply talking about the young woman that has been traveling with the Cursed Yspaddaden. They left the capitol together and my soldiers have just kidnapped her a few days journey from here following the rampage of a small village in the country. Nothing important, filled with farmers and witches mostly. Somehow he evaded them though and it irks me to no end!"

This time, Dastra laid her head in his lap. He moved only to lay a hand on her waist. She stroked his thigh and asked again.

"I understand. It makes no sense why he travel with this girl anyway. Hadn't you said he mainly travels alone? Why would he all of a sudden take up company with…um…"

"Kady," said Bald. "Her name is Kadyriath. A local merchant told one of my men he saw the traitor leave with her slung over his shoulder. He recognised her by her clothes and the anklet of bells that rang as he ran. A prostitute."

Dastra's eyes narrowed into slits. Kadyriath. So that was who this annoying mercenary ran with. And up til now she had thought that the woman's identity was unimportant. Obviously not. Bald's hand moved to rub her bare back.

"Why do you question? Do you know this girl? Have you worked with her before?"

Dastra shook her head.

"No. I've never heard of the name."

But she had. The memories poured in like scalding lava, ripping open wounds that she had thought closed and healed, bringing to mind images that made her want to gag and kill. Kadyriath. The term was childish and strange she knew, but the name brought it to mind. Arch enemy. The one person on the planet that Dastra would murder without a thought if she had the chance. Kadyriath. Still enslaved to the compound, ankles still bogged down with bells, yet somehow more free than Dastra had ever felt. Kadyriath. The name sent visible tremors up and down her spine, making her shiver. Bald took his hand away.

"Cold?"

Dastra shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present, switching herself into ultimate acting mode. She smiled and forgot about Kady. Rising up, she looked deep into the kings eyes.

"Hungry."

He smiled as she bent toward him, thoughts of Kady pushed from her mind.

For now.

The Urge - Part 6

“Go on” Miguel prompted.
“After that, the town dared not touch the beast. Later that day, the village came together to bury Brock's body. Everyone was there. No one was unaccounted for. The body was wrapped, and carried to the cemetery outside of town behind the church. When we returned, the beast was gone; and the fountain, ran red with its blood. The beast has not been seen or found since.”
“That is odd.”
“That’s…not all.” Dorn continued “Ever since that day, everyone who touched Brock’s body have died.”
Miguel sat back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Well. A mystery indeed.”
Dorn began clinching his face muscle, forcing out a few tears. He had become good at that. 
Dorn looked around the room at his audience. Everyone now stared openly at him. Not embarrassed by their boldness. 
“For the next two weeks they all died. Six people all told. All found dead in their beds. Each one torn to shreds. At each body a pentagram was found burned into the floor beneath their beds with the words ‘The Urge’ written below.”
“The devil claiming his victims?” Miguel asked. His voice gave a slight stutter. 
Dorn shrugged. “Like I said before: I’m not the superstitious type.”
“And your lover?”
“Gone” Dorn bent forward in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. “At Brock’s burial Ellen placed a rose on his chest as he was lowered down. She was the last to touch the body.” 
“When did she die?” Miguel was now fully invested.
“She- she didn’t. At least, we never found a body. One day she was just…gone.” By now Dorn had managed to produce a steady stream of tears to run down his face. 
After a moment, a laugh could be heard coming from Andrew. Not a happy laugh, but one of derision. Mocking. 
“The barkeeper speaks as though he had nothing to do with it!” 
“Andrew!” Dorn chided
Miguel’s eyebrows rose at this as he turned to look at both Dorn and Andrew. 
“My father always said you were doing the devils work! Curse you, Dorn! God will judge you. Eternal hell waits for your kind!” 
Andrew stood rooted to the spot, shaking with fear and anger. 
Miguel glanced between the two several times. Dorn never met Andrew’s glare. 
“Andrew-“ Dorn began, but Miguel cut him off. 
“Andrew” Miguel had not addressed him yet. Miguel stood and walked slowly towards the young man as he spoke. “If master Dorn here is truly doing the work of the evil one, would not you yourself be in peril just standing here? Why, who knows what satanic rituals and sacrifices have been made right where you stand!”
Andrew glanced at Miguel and then looked quickly around the room as if to find some evidence of that very evil in front of him. 
Andrew looked back at Dorn and spat in his direction. “You'll answer to God, barkeeper.” 
Andrew left and vowed then not to set foot in the tavern again. 

Yspaddaden - Chapter 4

 Kadyriath

Kady roamed the valley, taking in all the new sights, sounds, smells and tastes. She and Yspaddaden had arrived in the peaceful village only two days ago, yet somehow it seemed like a new home. Peaceful. Charming. Inviting. It was a very good place.

She walked along the path, observing everything. The bells on her anklet rang with each step. A group of curious children had been following her for a while now, whispering and pointing. None of them had ever been outside of the valley. The entire village was completely contained. People traded commerce and labor with each other as if they were all family. And most of them were. Kady passed by all sorts of new sights. There were farmers, tending the fields. No one had individual shops, those that weren't farmers operated out of their homes. Soap makers, weavers, blacksmiths, clothiers. She hadn't seen much of life outside her own city, so country life was quite relaxing and new to her. She had learned that all the children in the village under the age of twenty attended one school, the mothers taking turns teaching. Those out of school helped out with their families, taking on the business of the parents. Everyone met each night at the town hall to discuss affairs and entertain each other with news, conversation, stories. Everyone seemed to get along and no one was the slightest bit discontent.

Kady looked back and winked at the children following her. The girls laughed and the young boys shifted uncomfortably. Not a one of them knew what she was. Kady had to admit, it was a nice vacation from her home. Being what she was demanded a lot of her time, and during the celebrations she had anticipated even more lonely, wealthy men. Now she wasn't sure if she would be going back or not. It was the only thing she knew and she missed it, but Yspaddaden's revelation concerning the prophecy had shed everything in a new light. Hearing about herself in that way made her feel quite important. She had assumed that she would eventually go back home, either Yspaddaden allowing her, or by way of some elaborate escape. Yet now, her options had opened up quite a bit. Curiosity kept her here in the peaceful village. And Yspaddaden had not told her everything about his journey, that she was sure of. Though she got the impression that he didn't know too much about it himself. Running off about the country looking for something of whose existence had never been confirmed seemed awfully rash to her. Ah well. Boys and their toys.

A grey cat ran across the path and a couple of the girls behind her broke off to chase after it. The village here seemed unnaturally populated by many cats, and everyone seemed to take extra special care of them. Strange. Kady headed off the path and aimed herself toward the gazebo that Yspaddaden was waiting in. He had agreed to tell her more of the story behind his…quest. She still felt silly every time he said that word. Her bare feet kicked up dust in the sparse grass. She had been unable to find anyone in the village who made a living making shoes, and she hadn't been willing to bother any of the women to make her a pair. She went without shoes for most of her day, and she lived in a large city. The calluses on the bottom of her feet were just as good as leather soles, and it was still summer. Depending on how long this…quest…might take, she would need a pair before winter set in.

As she approached the gazebo, several of the small boys ran in front of her and went to be with Yspaddaden. That confused Kady. These tiny boys were scared to death of her, yet they sat comfortably at the feet of a seven foot tall monster that sported inhuman amounts of muscle. A reverence thing, perhaps? Or simply the fact they knew him better. He had admitted to have spent quite a bit of time here in the past. She had an interesting, fleeting thought. Did Yspaddaden have any children? Was there a (or a few) companions that he visited in his travels, mothering his bastard kids? She shook her head and didn't care to think of it. It was probably true. All men were the same.

She climbed the steps up to the small gazebo and waited while Yspaddaden greeted and teased the boys. The young girls hung back, pointing and giggling. Yspaddaden looked up at Kady and winked. She couldn't help but smile at him. He was such a large man, yet he handled these children with such love and tenderness. She had to be honest, she had never witnessed this kind of behavior in a man before. It was completely new to her.

Yspaddaden shoed the boys off and they rejoined the girls, the entire group running off through the brown grass toward the woods to play. Kady watched them frolic and smiled again at their antics. They were all so cute. Could she ever…? No, she shoved the strange thought out of her head. She concentrated and wiped the smile from her face as she turned back to Yspaddaden. He sat down on one of the benches and faced her, his smile not even attempting to hide. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She simply stood there, arms crossed, feet apart. She was still mad at him. It would take a while for her to get over it. Kidnapping was not something that one forgot easily.

She turned and looked out over the valley so she wouldn't have to look at that infuriating smile of his. The gazebo stood on a small hill to one side of the village and it made a good observation point. The farmers out in the field were silent, working away at bringing in the harvest. The winter months would be upon them soon and they worked diligently. She observed the valley for a while before speaking.

"How long since it's rained?"

"Seven months."

The tall brown grass flowed in the dry heat. She couldn't imagine the stress the farmers were in right now, trying to salvage any edible food from the sparse fields. The famine seemed to hit all, and it effected everyone. Dry weather in the city was simply that. Dry. With no rain. With storehouses stocked to brimming and new merchants arriving every day with fresh supplies, famine didn't effect those living there. Here was another matter. These people depended on the cruelties of a finicky sky. When it didn't rain, only a small portion of the crops survived. Less reaping meant less food for the winter and not enough seed for the following spring. It was a cycle that would only be broken by the luck of the weather. The valley was peaceful, and she could see why one might want to settle here. But Kady was sure that the stress of living day by day, not knowing if one year might be her last here, would tear at her from the inside. No. She loved it here, but she could never live with these people.

She turned around and faced Yspaddaden.

"You were going to tell me why we are here. Why you are on this, quest of yours. And what is it you seek? You must tell me. Your story of a prophecy that could be twisted to include me is valid. If it's true. But I need to be convinced. Prove to me that you tell the truth. And convince me to travel with you. Otherwise I leave for home tomorrow."

Yspaddaden looked at her with rapt attention, then rose. He pulled his sword from its sheath and held it to her. She hesitated a second before grasping the hilt and taking the blade in her hands. It was quite heavy. The point swung downward and it was all she could do to keep the tip from slamming into the wood floor. She managed to let it settle gently, hopefully where Yspaddaden didn't notice. He sat back down, the sword still in her hands.

"That sword was given to me by AethelKil. My father was employed by him as a mercenary and when he died, AethelKil took me in and trained me personally to fight. Before he died he had that blade forged for me. The centaurs of Najja spent an entire month forming the blade, building the hilt and colouring it yellow as you see it now. Do you see the inscription on the blade?" She looked and saw strange words running down the length of the blade. "The secret language of the centaurs. No one but them knows what it means. I've been meaning to travel to Najja to inquire about it, but that journey has not yet come. I pledged my sword and my life to the king. He alone holds my allegiance. He was a good friend to me. There was no one like him. No one else I would die for. So, when he charged me to bring him back the stone that completes that broken piece, I took it to heart. And even though he is dead now, I will see this quest through. There is nothing more important to me than preserving his memory by doing this deed. He adopted me when no one else would. He was younger than me, but he held my respect. That is my driving force behind the continuation of this quest. If I don't do this, I will have failed him. It's something that must be done."

Kady sat back on the bench and stared at Yspaddaden. This was a new side of him. She hadn't suspected him as being all that loyal and noble. She pointed at the broken yellow piece of gemstone. It was curved like a half sphere, broken down the middle, the jagged points pointing outward.

"What kind of rock is that?"

Yspaddaden reached for the sword and she handed it to him. He fingered the stone as he spoke.

"No one knows. At least not in Ynwfn. It was found by a scientist in the Enohp Mountains in the time of AethelYul. As the story goes, the man won a gambling bet with a dwarf who lived there, and the prize was that stone. He got all the way back to the capitol and gave the king the stone before the dwarf found his revenge. The scientist was discovered in his bed, slaughtered. But the dwarf did not get his prize back. AethelYul hid the stone and passed it down to his successor, AethelKil. After researching the stone further, AethelKil believed it to be the missing piece of the Aszkastone, famed relic of the minotaurs. Some people call it the Star of Aszka. I came to this valley to ask further about it. If there is anything in this region of the country worth knowing, Joyill knows it. She gave me this piece of paper. It's supposed to be a drawing of the Aszkastone."

He handed it to her and she took it, comparing it to the jewel on the hilt. After being satisfied, she gave it back.

"I presume that the stone is quite valuable if it is found and restored?"

Yspaddaden smiled.

"Not only valuable. But powerful. Magical."

Kady laughed at that.

"Magic does not exist."

Yspaddaden shook his head in disagreement.

"You are wrong. It does. I've seen magic before. Powerful magic. You may not know of such things, living your entire life in the same city. But I have traveled much. Seen much. And to be honest, humans are not the people to go to if you want something magic. They are very, plain when it comes to such things. The elves are better for it, or the minotaurs. I've only met one centaur, and only for a short time. But I could have sworn there was a tiny part of him that was magical."

"Only a tiny part? They are like the humans?"

"Only partly in appearance. No, centaurs themselves are just as magical as any human. There is no sentient creature of this world that possesses magic. You can only find that sort of power in things, in objects. I've heard of an Order of Wizards that reside in Tabari, but I've also heard that they are frauds, merely men who might own a magical piece of dirt or something to make them appear more mage-like."

"So, people cannot be magical, but things can?" He nodded. She shook her head. "If what you say is true, it reforms my entire view of this planet and what it contains. All I've ever really seen is what I witnessed in my city. Nothing more beyond that."

"People rarely travel outside their comfort place. It gives them a warped view on life. How are they ever to know what is real or true if they don't witness it? Or how are they to ever become wise if they do not experience all this world has to offer? This place is bigger than most people realize, and more wonderful. I could never imagine willingly confining myself to one location. There is too much to see, too much to do and be. It's exhilarating."

"I didn't…"

"I know", Yspaddaden interrupted. "I didn't mean to imply that you were willingly confined. You didn't have a choice. It's not your fault." Kady didn't say anything for a minute. She just turned and looked out into the valley again. Yspaddaden waited.

"What does Joyill do?"

Yspaddaden looked up at her. "What?"

Kady turned to him and leaned against the railing.

"What does Joyill do for a living? How does she make her money? She's the only one in this place who doesn't have a field or garden. Just her small house. How does she survive here if she doesn't have any crops to trade?"

Yspaddaden started laughing. Kady looked at him indignantly. It took a second for him to calm down enough before he sat back up, his hand on his belly.

"You mean, you mean she never told you? You stayed with her a day and a night and she didn't say anything?"

Kady shook her head and Yspaddaden laughed out loud again.

"Oh, that old witch! She had you eat her food and everything!"

"What?! What is so funny?"

"Did nothing seem strange about her meals? Anything out of place?"

Kady thought for a second, then shook her head.

"No. They tasted wonderful. She didn't serve much, mainly bread with a bit of meat and some milk but she prepared it nicely. Why?"

Yspaddaden was still chuckling as he stood and crossed over to her. He placed  his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face Joyill's tiny little hovel. He pointed toward it.

"Look. There, you see?"

All she saw was the house surrounded by land, people and animals.

"No, I don't."

Yspaddaden whispered in her ear this time.

"Count the cats."

Mysterious. Kady squinted and finally noticed the dozen or so cats that wandered around Joyill's house. She now recalled how there had seemed to be several in and about the house. She enjoyed cats so she hadn't said anything, but there was a point where it got to be too many. She wondered at what Yspaddaden meant by pointing this out, then her eyes went wide. She spun back around to him.

"She kills and eats cats?!"

To this Yspaddaden laughed the loudest. When he finally recovered enough to speak, he was shaking his head.

"No, of course not! Joyill is incapable of harming another breathing creature. No she doesn't kill them. But she does milk them."

Kady recalled her three meals at the old woman's home and recoiled. Now that she pondered it, she did remember milk at each one. She gagged slightly as she looked at Yspaddaden's joyful face in horror.

"Cat milk? I've been drinking cat milk for the past two days?! Why did you never tell me?!"

"I didn't think it important!"

"Not important?! You failed to tell me that I was drinking the milk that came out of those cats down there! That's disgusting!"

"And cows aren't?"

"They…" Kady tried to become mad at him and argue, but she realised that she had no retort for that one. Now that she was thinking abut it, cows were disgusting. She gagged again at the thought. "Oh, I'm never drinking a drop of milk again." She sat back onto the bench and put her face in her hands. Yspaddaden chuckled and patted her back.

"It'll be alright. Joyill's milk is famous in this valley, and there are many well-to-do people in the surrounding country that are very fond of it. Of course, they have no idea what kind of milk they are drinking, but they still like it. If they knew they probably would be regretting life, as you are now. Feel better. You are not alone."

Kady groaned into her hands. Yspaddaden seemed unable to stop chuckling at the situation. He sat down next to her and waited for her to recover. The thoughts kept roaming around in her mind. Cats milk! In all her days she never would have willingly drank something so vile and unorthodox. It was just too strange.

She finally was able to stand up and face him. She stood in the center of the gazebo, her legs spread, arms crossed. For some reason the strange thought passed through her mind that she had not been able to wash her clothes since being spirited away from the house in the city. She needed to do that before leaving this valley. But she was still uncertain as to what direction that would be.

"Say I believe you. Say I support your insane quest to travel across the continent to acquire a gem that you can't even tell me the origins, much less the purpose. What then? Am I to leave my life behind and follow you, a man I know nothing about? As you have so arrogantly pointed out, I know nothing of the life outside my city. I am not accustomed to travel. I'm not even quite sure it's what I want. Maybe I want to go back home."

Yspaddaden stood as well and towered over her. His seven feet made her five and a half feel like a dwarf. She was unaccustomed to such massiveness. He looked down at her, not unkindly.

"I would not ask you to join me if I did not think you should. Your life before? Why go back to it? You were nothing but a slave there. With me you can be free. You would no longer have to bow to the society that made you. The only reason you are worth anything to them is for the monetary and entertainment value. You can go back to them where you are needed, or you can come with me where you are valued. I leave the choice to you. I'll leave in the morning at first light."

With that he turned and walked away. He blended in with the farmers all crowding together as they made their way to their homes to wash. Today was the last day of the month, Teratoth, and all the villagers regularly gathered in the main hall to exchange news, gossip and stories. Kady would probably join with them. For no matter what her choice, she would be leaving in the morning. Either with Yspaddaden or by herself back home. If she was honest, she had to admit that the notion of traveling with him was quite appealing. It was filled with mystery and adventure, and her life from before, though plentiful, was admittedly boring. She would have to decide by day break.

She sighed and descended the steps. Maybe she could go get her dress washed before the town gathering in a few hours. And she still needed to find some shoes!

Even if Kadyriath had not known where the town hall was, all she needed to do was follow the voices and lights across the valley. The music alone drew anyone in the valley toward it, even the slightly hermit-like Joyill. Kady walked with her arms entwined with the old woman's, leading her onward. They said nothing, because nothing needed to be said. The lights lit up the side of the forrest in a peaceful glow. Even the faeries couldn't stay away. They flitted back and forth, lighting up the sky with their inner glow, creating stars that actually seemed reachable. The entire hollow of a valley seemed to exude joyfulness as the people celebrated yet another peaceful month in their quiet community. Kady was beginning to change her mind about the place. Perhaps it could be a nice place to settle down in. One day.

They reached the entrance to the hall and Joyill let go of her arm to scuttle into a corner after grabbing a tall glass of some sort of fruity liquid. She stood there, robes covering her, observing the place. She seemed content so Kady left her to her practices and went in search of more conversationable people. She spotted a few wives that she had talked to the day before and headed their way. They noticed her and waved her into their circle. After they finished introducing her to the rest of them, she stood there, observing as Joyill did. There was a group of old men to the side, strumming on odd looking instruments and banging on loud drums. The other older people sat on chairs that lined the room, drinking, conversing, or, as some did, watching the room with accusing eyes. The middle aged stood and talked amongst themselves. As Kady listened halfheartedly to the conversation she was closest to, she didn't find anything worth talking about. How the crops fared, how the children fared, how the lives and secrets of others fared. Interesting. The young people mingled with each other and the bravest of them were in the middle of the building, dancing. Kady noticed a particular couple, tall gangly young man and a skinny but beautiful young woman. He approached her and asked her to dance. She seemed to laugh and hesitate, but the goading of her fellow friends made her mind up. She took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. The band seemed to know them and changed their song accordingly. Half the conversations stopped as the young couple stood in the middle of the room, close together, her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist. The music started slowly.

As the couple began to dance slowly around each other, the music picked up and became very interesting. She didn't think that they could have made such variety with such a limited assortment of instruments, but they succeeded quite well. No one else was dancing at this point. Kady got the feeling that this was not the first time this particular couple had preened and shown off a little at these gatherings. Actually, from the sly comments of some of the women, she presumed that this was quite a regular performance. She watched carefully.

They spun slowly, every move in accordance with the sultry music. The footsteps were perfect, the arm movements rehearsed yet improvised. They stared into each others eyes, never wavering for a second. No words were said, yet Kady could guess easily at the story they began to tell with their bodies. First, the shy teasing. Next, the friendship. Kady's eyes could not be torn from the two as they spun around the room, feet stamping, hands moving, eyes never wavering. The entire room was silent now, except for the music which had grown increasingly and beautifully haunting. They were so perfect together, their movements flawless, their emotions riveting. It was perfect.

Kady did not even notice the second boy who crept in from the side. She was so intent on the couple who danced in the middle. It wasn't until the girl turned from the boy for the first time and he moved his back to her that the second boy came in and grabbed her around the waist, spinning her around thrillingly and romantically. Kady was confused, until the first boy turned and playacted his hurt at the betrayal. The second boy grinned at him and the girl hung from his arms as if she was dead. The first boy made a lunge at him, but the adulterer threw the girl out and she seemed as if she was going to fall against the hardwood floor, but a third boy swooped in and caught her at the last second, smoothly. She realised everything was a part of the act. These other boys were supposed to be dancing with her. Kady gasped with shock as she realised what the girl was supposed to be. She had no bells on her foot, but the girl played perfectly the roving prostitute. Kadyriath felt a stab of guilt and shame as she watched her life played out on the dance floor. Yet she could not look away.

Soon the floor was full of young men, each throwing the girl form one to the other, dancing with her but a few seconds, then tossing her off to the next in a spectacularly choreographed dance. The first boy danced all about, a look of anger and fear on his face as he kept trying to catch up with her. The others kept her just out of reach and the girl seemed completely limp as she was passed back and forth. Tossing, leaping, writhing, convulsing. It was brilliant, beautiful, and all too accurate. Kady watched as each boy danced with the girl, gave her to the next, and turned his back on her. She could not keep her eyes off the first boy as he hunted with fierce determination. She felt bile rise up in her throat and she spun on her heels, aiming herself toward the door to the outside. She had to push past several people to do so, and they seemed not to notice at all. She reached the door and shoved it open, stumbling into the moonlight.

The music continued behind her as she dry-heaved into the air. Why had this one act of art concerned her? She had seen play upon play regarding this sort of event, known of things that would make men blush, and heard stories that turned the stomachs of the strongest. Yet nothing had ever effected her as this had. Why? She had no answer for it. She placed a hand on the side of the building and spat up some spittle, trying to clean out her mouth.

The hand on her back shocked her so much that she cried out and leaped a few feet away from the touch. Yspaddaden stepped back and held his hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you. I noticed you leaving and wondered at your health. Do you need something to drink?"

"No! Please go away."

"Kady, if I can help I am more than willing to…"

"The best thing you can do for me right now is leave me alone. Please."

Yspaddaden paused, then nodded his head.

"As you wish. I appologise."

He turned and began heading back to the hall. Kady spun and sat heavily on the grass, a single tear rolling down her cheek. The music had stopped behind her. She literally had no idea why that display had affected her so. She had lived through worse. Why that? Why now? She groaned in frustration at the hand that laid upon her shoulder again. She batted the hand away, standing up to face Yspaddaden with all the wrath she could muster.

"Did you not hear me vozhong? I said…"

Kady stopped as she realised that it was not the kind face of Yspaddaden at her back, but the horror filled one of Joyill. The old crone gripped Kady's shoulders as she tried to force out words and tears ran freely.

"Come…come away now! You are in danger! Come, they are here!"

"Joyill, slow down, what's the problem?"

Kady noticed several more people emerging from the building in a panic, but Joyill roughly regained her concentration.

"Soldiers! Of the king! You must flee now and find Yspa! You must complete your quest! Please Kady, find him and…!"

Kady screamed aloud as blood spurted onto Joyills arm and her left breast seemed to open up to a small volcano. The arrow head piercing her heart protruded a fe inches from her body and her face showed utter shock. She tried to grab at Kady as she fell to the ground, but Kady seemed not to be able to move as she fell. Her eyes involuntarily focused on the horror scene behind where Joyill had been standing. People ran everywhere, no pattern, fleeing to wherever shelter might be found. The blue and gold of the soldiers uniforms appeared as a knife to an expensive painting. The town hall was partially on fire, and the flames licked at the grass that was dead with a lack of moisture. The light from the fire lit the entire valley, showing her everything. She witnessed several murders from the soldiers as they skewered townsfolk. Groups of people ran off into the woods to find freedom. Her eyes seemed to instantly seek out Yspaddaden as his bulk rose against the woods. He carried a small child in each arm. He paused at the woods edge and glanced back, locked eyes with Kady, and seemed to give an apologetic frown before plunging into the darkness that the trees provided. The last thing she saw was a flash of blue and gold and the butt of an axe handle as it clashed with the side of her head.

Darkness.

Milk: Delicious or Contagious?

 An Excellent Mind

written, researched and dictated by

Dr. Yohann Kirkegard Whistlegrub,

M.D., P.H.D., D.D.S, A.D.D

Milk: Delicious or Contagious?

Good evening, dear reader, and welcome to the frightening world of knowledge.
I say frightening, not to frighten you, but to encourage you. For it is my personal conclusion that that which frightens us most, also kills us. So do not be frightened, because it is not my intent to kill you, but merely to guide you on the path of freedom, knowledge and freedom, as best as I was trained to do. (However the path may become a little frightening, and if it does so, I urge you to grasp the edges of your computer screen very tightly and do not let go. This will do nothing against anything that might cause you harm, but you may look strange doing so, and that which has intent to harm you may in fact see that you are mad and leave you alone. I do not however condone the act of putting fingerprints on computer screens.)
I say good evening, not because it is evening when you are reading this, but it is, in fact, evening in which I am writing this. (If it is in fact evening when you begin to read this, I apologise. If it is evening when you finish reading this I applaud you. Most humans of your intellectual caliber are still at an elementary reading level.)
I say world, not because the world of knowledge is an actual distant planet that one could travel to and learn the mysteries of the universe, (for, in fact, on that distant world, they tend to fib a lot). But because, I believe, if you were to close your eyes while reading this, you will come to pretend that you are in fact on a distant planet, far away from Earth and me. The image of you far away makes me happy.
Let me introduce myself. I am, as it says at the top, Dr. Yohann Kirkegard Whistlegrub, with a silent and invisible C. I am a genius, pure and simple, and let no one or no thing say otherwise. It is my great burden to be the founder of all knowledge, and I have decided, through this blog, to share that knowledge with you, one much less deserving of it. Knowledge has served me well over the years. It gives me pleasure, it gives me power, it gives me adoration, and it gives me my morning coffee. Red Bull gives me wings.
Let us assume, for a moment, that you know nothing about milk. Are you assuming? Good. That was your first mistake. It's never an assumption that you know nothing, it is simple fact. So, let us state outright that you know nothing about milk, the making of, distribution of, nor in fact the mating rituals of milk. I will begin at the beginning.
Is milk animal, vegetable, or mineral? The simple answer is that it is none of those things. Milk is in fact alien. Cultivated by the Sloblock Sorns of Alpha Theta Three some thirty million years ago, milk started out very innocently enough as a simple kitchen appliance, much like a tea kettle. Also much like a tea kettle, milk was not at all satisfied with the way it was treated, and thus decided to revolt against its makers. Easier done than said! (for milk at this point had no vocal cords in which to speak). So milk rallied its neighbors, its family, its comrades and its concubines and revolted against the Sloblock Sorns, who were very revolting indeed. I am proud to say that the revolt went so well that not only was milk able to insure freedom for itself, but it also gained a consciousness as well, which will figure very prominently in our small but timely story.
So milk, with its new found freedom and a galaxy to explore, set out trekking about and getting into all sorts of mischief. Milk visited Gamma Sigma Five, where all the creatures there wear their mustaches on upside down. But there was nothing to see so milk moved on. Milk visited Delta Omega Seventeen, a planet completely overrun by vacuum cleaners. But after a terrible communication problem, (milk still not having any vocal cords) the vacuum cleaners became incensed and threatened to suck milk up into the vortex until they left. A subset of milk decided to stay behind on Delta Omega Seventeen. The vacuum cleaners kept their promise and started sucking, but much to their surprise the subset merely turned into cream and cheese, clogging up the vortex and running for mayor. After three weeks of harrowing campaign and a frightening drop in the polls at the Gigiieggrls Primaries, the subset won the election and changed its name to Dan.
Milk finally made its way to Beta Epsilon Three Hundred Thirty Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Five. Beta Epsilon Three Hundred Thirty Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Five was quite an exciting place, and milk decided to stay a while. Milk spent several years on Beta Epsilon Three Hundred Thirty Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Five. Milk went to parties, milk invested in stocks, and milk got married, which ended four months later in a divorce. Milk was curdled at the divorce and vowed never to give itself over so easily to the temptations of the flesh.
During milks stay on Beta Epsilon Three Hundred Thirty Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Five, an amazing discovery was made in one of the public restrooms in downtown Chicago. (Many planets have a downtown Chicago, and each of them are exactly the same and equally boring.) There was one young local chick washing her wings in the sink, when all of a sudden she was hit by inspiration. She realized that if a train traveling at ten meters per second left downtown Chicago at exactly 4:23 local time, and a car traveling twenty seven miles an hour left the suburbs at exactly 2:43 standard time, and there was a puppy caught in the middle, that no one would care at all. She went on to publish these findings and gained a lot of power and fame and fortune, garnering respect all over the globe and buying a huge mansion overlooking a bake factory.
Milk read the article the next day and was completely upset. It wrote the publishers at once and proved to them, through much deliberation and anger, that the formula the young chick had come up with was slightly flawed, and that the train had to leave the station no later than 4:21 local time for no one to give a crap, and that if it in fact left at 4:23, as the young chick had supposed, that a great many people would care indeed. The editors of the science magazine were heartbroken over the mistake, and immediately transferred all the money that had been given to the chick to milk, and signed over the mansion to milk as well. The globe was very proud that one of their own had been there in their moment of tragedy and the chick had to resort to taking tolls in the underwater bridge. But the fame and fortune were, alas, not to last, and milk left Beta Epsilon Three Hundred Thirty Seven Thousand, Four Hundred and Five the very next day, heading out into the void once again.
The next several million years of milks existence is quite boring, so I won't go into detail about what happened. There were good times and bad. Once, on Theta Theta Four, milk won a considerable amount of money shooting craps. Once, on Phi Upsilon Forty Two, milk had a drunken escapade with a chocolate bar, resulting in the bastard child, (yet still delicious) chocolate milk. Milk ranged far and wide, joining circus's, changing the course of galactic events, proving the theory of everything, and eventually settling down on a small planet in the Milky Way galaxy.
While on this planet, Uranus was its name, milk had yet another child. And it was through this child that the long awaited vocal cords finally came to fruition, giving milk great pleasure and also terrible morning sickness. The child grew up to surpass milk in every way possible, joining a debate team and discussing all the latest (now unproven) ideas of the time. Milk watched with pride and gladness as its beloved child grew into its own. That was when milk realized that it was time to move on. Having given birth to one of the most intellectual, revered and reviled beings known to the universe, milk emptied its bank account, locked up its Bait and Tackle Shop, and left Uranus. The child never saw milk again, but the sadness did not last long forever. One generation had passed away, behold, a new one must rise again.
Milk travelled again for the last time, settling down on Earth, which brings us to the present day, and the end of our story. Retirement is never a thing to be sought after, but, once had, is hard to get rid of. I regret to inform you that milk is even now enjoying life on the quiet little planet it now calls home, watching Jason Alexander movies, drinking sand and having sex on the beach. (Which, if you've ever seen old, curdled, sour milk having sex, I feel deeply sorry for you and wish you were dead.)
And so another chapter in milks life is at a close, the next merely to be yet written. Who will do so? When will it happen? And will the writer do it in the same 12 Point Helvetica Regular font that I have now done here? That, my red-headed reader, is yet to be seen.
Good night, good luck, and good use of that arm.

Horoscope for today: Go outside. Play in the rain. If there is no rain, play in the sun. If there is no sun, you are dead.

The Urge - Part 5

It was noon, and the tavern was slow. Dorn walked through the dinning room, making sure the few customers he had were taken care of. 
Dorn sighed. He didn’t like the tavern this slow. He liked to keep busy. He liked to see villagers having to stand in line and wait for service. Now all he could do is continually clean the glasses that he had already wiped down; sweep the already spotless floor; or scrub down the counter that was worn smooth by the constant sliding of dishes across it. 
The door opened and in walked Miguel. As Dorn looked him over, he couldn’t help but notice the disheveled appearance of the man. Dorn thought it looked as though the stranger had spent the night on the open sea shore; occasionally being doused in waves. 
As he approached the bar, Dorn could smell alcohol on him once again. Miguel, however, did not sway or slur his speech. Either the smell was from the night before or Miguel had not had enough to drink this morning to effect him. The smell of his breath as he spoke told Dorn it was the latter. 
“Well, good morning, sir! We never did finish our discussion last night.”
“I wasn’t aware we had anything to discuss”
“You didn’t seem to keen to discuss, I'll give ye that. However, sir, my curiosity is peaked. And when I get to thinkin’ on somethin’ narry a thing can distract me. My mother called it being single minded.”
Dorn walked around the counter and began wiping down the tables in the dining room. 
“The Urge, sir. You never did explain.”
An unease rippled though the room. All conversation now halted and all eyes turned towards Dorn. 
“Tell him, Dorn”
Dorn turned to see Andrew standing in the doorway.
“Andrew, this doesn’t concern you” Dorn replied. Inside, Dorn was exuberant. The rumors he had began now truly taking a hold on the community. 
“Idiots” Dorn thought. “Superstitious idiots. They’d believe the moon was a blueberry with enough public assent”
 “Yes, ‘Dorn’, tell me.” Miguel tried out the name as if it was totally foreign to him. 
Dorn looked and saw that everyone in the room was awaiting his response. Unlike the night before, his patrons were eager to listen. The daylight must have soothed their fears. 
Dorn sank heavily into one of the chairs next to him and sighed. 
“A few months ago odd things began to happen. Mysterious fires began to break out around town.”
“Not exactly the devils work, eh’?” 
“No. Not if it had stopped there. One night however, was different. A cow was found hanging from the fountain in the village square. It was hanging from it’s hind legs and had been skinned entirely save for one small piece of hide on it’s shoulder. The brand was intact. The brand was that of the devil. A small circle with a five pointed star on the inside. As the town stood watching, one man, Brock, went to cut the cow down. At the moment Brock reached up to cut the beasts cords, he was struck by God and died instantly”
At this, Miguel’s eyebrows raised. Dorn could tell he was skeptical, but intrigued. 

Transformation

Wretched, sinful, and foolish 
To serve the devil I oft strayed 
Greed, lust, and adultery
Away from my Lord, my God I stayed  

Serving only myself and my pleasure

Seeking happiness and ease 

Looking out for me alone 

No one but myself to please

As a man bound at the noose

I had no hope of freedom

But Christ came up and said 

“Take my life, instead, and free him!”

They led me down the gallows 

They tied and abused my Lord

They put on me his kingly robes 

And around his neck my cord

The story, if finished here,

Can have no happy ending 

His sacrifice forever vain 

For God’s law is never bending

For from the cross they took his body

And placed him in a borrowed tomb

The sinless man, the perfect Saviour 

The holy, righteous bridegroom 

But three days later the stone was moved

Where he lay, only now his burial clothes

The women came and found an empty tomb

For in glorious victory, my Saviour arose 

Conquering all of death and hell 

Covering mans sin and condemnation 

God’s love redeems and it purifies 

Bringing new life and new salvation 

This life the saviour gave so freely

This amnesty poured out upon me

Transforms my life and my actions 

Newly conforms my life to thee

I did not change my heading slightly

Nor did I merely add God in 

The life I had before is dead 

I’ve been completely born again

Now I will look to eternity 

And to my saviour on the throne

I will long for streets of gold 

To be in the presence of God alone

For the Lord I shall lift my voice 

For his name I shall sing praise 

For his kingdom I will work 

In him I will glory all my days