Vengeance of the Damned by Mark WebsterSUMMARY: the beginning of the story that is the sequel to the flash fiction "And He Rode A Golden Cloud"A spectral horror, I floated in the downtown square of Simadin Royal, the Outer Country's most exquisite city. Vendors squabbled a few paces to the right, children played in the dirt to the left; no one could se me. For that I was glad.
My body, even in ghost form, showed the horrific damage done during my murder. Long, deep gashes stretched all about my frames, my wizard robes torn. My face was a mass of dark purple scars: they were all I had managed to heal before my magic had run out and I had slowly died.
For a long time I had wondered how. How had I not noticed the daemons that killed me? Why was I not killed outright and eaten, as was their way? And why—for the gods' sakes—had they not simply ignored me, daemons being able to sense magic users leagues away. I shuddered as I remembered their bravado: carelessly raking me with iron claws, even wheeling in the sky above afterwards, fearing no repercussions.
That was what I was here to find out. Simadin Royal was a small city, but within its walls one could find riffraff of the largest number anywhere. The only problem was finding the aforementioned riffraff. The Thieves Guild had their headquarters in the sewers, some said. I had laughed at that when I first heard it; Cade, lord of Simadin Royal, had searched the sewers day in and day out with his truncheon-armed forces for almost a month, and nothing had been discovered.
Yet if they were here, where else could they be? In the walls? I walked onwards, glad for once of the limitations that I had even in death. The circumstances of my demise being suspicious, I had not been granted full "ghosthood", which meant that I could float about as a ghost but could not pass through solid objects.
I glanced about: the children were still playing cheerfully, and a red-haired, red-cheeked merchant was gesturing at his wares for the benefit of those who had not noticed the brilliantly glistening diamond apples.
It was a serene scene, one of everyday life; the humdrum monotony that formed these peoples' days was gladly accepted by them. They were in paradise.
Too bad that I was about tear this to place to shreds.
| 
(1 rating)