Destructor

The man who was called Usef looked down from his high perch. In the valley below, the streets of Marodan were still filled with revelers. Marodan, capital city of the land of Tarithan where temperatures never rose above freezing. This night, Usef’s beard glittered with ice crystals but he did not feel the cold. In truth, his skin felt hot, as if it would be seared off if he stood there any longer. At length, with a final glance backwards, he departed.

Usef went north and west, all the while his mind turning events over and over. How ironic that Tarithan should escape the ravages of Morithal only to nearly destroy itself due to one power hungry man. A warmonger who spent the land’s precious resources with abandon. Who first forged a unified country and then tore its people asunder. His name had been Racivan and he was called the Destroyer.

Though his reign had lasted a hundred lifetimes, Racivan ruled no more. It had been ended by one on a dead man’s errand. Usef was that man.

All through the night he pressed on, reaching the foot of a great range of mountains as the first light of dawn crept across the horizon. Before him the notorious Mines of Darvakhan spread out. How many thousands had died here? Beneath the harsh whip of Racivan’s soldiers? Too many. There were no people around today. Neither guards nor slaves either. With Racivan’s end, the slaves had risen up and cast off their bonds and the guards, those who were not captured and torn apart, fled. Now all that remained was the eerie quiet of abandonment.

Usef recalled this place and the years he had spent here. Pressed into slavery by Racivan, like so many of his brethren, and forced to mine the crystals for which Tarithan was famous. Crystals that Racivan turned into tools of destruction.

It was in those days, when Usef had been forced to toil sometimes as long as sixteen hours a day, that he first saw Racivan. The tyrant had come to inspect his arcalilyte mines. He was without compassion and when a slave had stumbled across his path, daring to touch Racivan, the despot had ordered the man flogged until he died. No one thought to help, no one dared. To Usef, indeed to the entire country, Racivan had seemed an immortal, invincible presence.

Now Usef had returned to the mines. This time of his own choosing. Today would be his last visit. Finally, with a sigh, he stepped onto a platform and began slowly turning the crank, lowering himself into the shaft. A tremor ran through him as the darkness of the mine swallowed him.

Usef had not been the first man to attempt to kill Racivan. The first, at least the first Usef knew of, had been another slave. How many times had Usef heard that man whispering to himself, over and over. “Immortal but not indestructible. Immortal but not indestructible.” He hadn’t known what to make of it then, but after Tarik had fashioned his arcalilyte arrow and fired it at Racivan, Usef knew.

That arrow nearly killed the tyrant, penetrating magical barriers that protected Racivan with ease and driving home through his chest. A thumbs-breath to the right and Tarik would have been the hero. It would have been a fitting end, to be killed by the very thing he killed so many to acquire. But he had not died, instead it was Tarik who died and in doing so, kindled Racivan’s wrath.

That a slave had sought to kill him, and nearly succeeded, made life for the others infinitely worse. Conditions that had already been terrible became unbearable. Hundreds died as Racivan sought his vengeance. It was too much and Usef could not suffer it to continue. And so Usef had purposed to finish the task of dead Tarik. And finish it he had, bringing an end to Racivan so that Tarithan might live on.

Usef delivered a powerful blow to the crystal spar before him. These crystals were hardy, but with the right tools and knowledge, easily extracted. Years of slavery had given Usef that knowledge. Again Usef struck. And again. With a final grunt of effort, he lifted his pickaxe over his head and sheared the crystal away from the spar. It was heavy, but he was strong. Hours passed like this as Usef mined the crystals he would use. Finally, when he was finished, Usef carried the crystals out of the mines.

As he exited the crystal caverns for what would be the last time, he felt himself grow melancholy. He would forge these crystals into his own armor and weapons and then he would be done with this place. He was leaving Tarithan.

Usef would not return.