Kidnapped

I remember how exhaused I was before going to sleep. Only to awake far away in a cold, black room filled with terrible fear. My first image was of a cell within my own mind, the back-flash of one of my spells. I had been reading some heavy duty tomes, perhaps beyond my magical abilities but one has to grow somehow. I was in no way prepared for the truth.1

I knew I had three spells remembered and ready for use but I wanted to make sure I used them to my best advantage so I searched out the room only using my ordinary senses. My eyes, useless in the total dark, I kept closed to keep my vision safe if I hit something. Listening carefully I could hear only the pounding of my excited heart and my own breathing. No other sound came into my little cell. I could smell damp cold stone and my own acidic perspiration, the true odor of fear. 2

My three spells on hand were light, flaming arrow, and defensive shock but before I could use any of them I had to relax and remember the incantations. Lying on the cold stone I began to deep breathe, drawing air into the furthest corners of my lungs, becoming relaxed of mind as I thought only of the air moving in and out of my body. Once relaxed I would light my space to see if escape was one of my options.3

But relaxation did not come, instead I began to feel a warmth radiating from the floor beneath me. Then the very air itself scorched and began to sear as I breathed. Scrambling on my hands and knees I sought a cooler spot but none were to be found. Images of the hottest deserts invaded my mind as the sweat ran freely off my body. Any thoughts of the heat killing me as it burned my lungs were soon replaced as the pounding began.4

At first I thought I had died. It was as though I had been caught in a mighty explosion, the force of the blow hitting me from all sides in an attempt to crush me into the smallest possible shape. On and on it continued until the room suddenly went icy cold and I could not breath, my lungs frozen in an instant. Then again the heat and the cycle continued on and on. I could only hope I died before my mind snapped from the constant pain. Searing burning heat, pounding agony, and icy cold, over and over again until I felt I had been sent beyond my breaking limits. 5

Then finally, silence. In my mind I could only be pleased with the lack of torture. It did not matter what I was now or how much of my life I had lost. All that mattered was that the abuse had stopped. Despite my lack of senses, inwardly I smiled.6

The merchant's hood was pulled low over his face as he spoke, "Yes M'Lord, it is the finest of magical blades. I hand forged it myself. Not only is it of the best steel and light but it comes with three magical spells; light, flaming arrows, and defensive shock. The cost is one hundred gold pieces and no haggling."7

Since the disappearance of his son there was no doubt about the need for the blade. With a swiftness of hand belying his age he passed over the gold. Why would he disappear now when I need him the most? Damn magicians.8