(Page 1 of 2) Verity by Nila E. White (tmso)
 (2 ratings)
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SUMMARY: For the November Online Flash Fiction Contest, theme: hunger.The last day my master, High-Mage Philip Daridon, lived, turned out to be the last day I hungered. After his death, the gnawing emptiness in my belly simply went away.
I first met him at the ripe age of thirteen. An ill-fated number. The number of the unlucky, the damned. Poor and desperate to feed six other mouths, my mother brought her eldest daughter to the Mage's castle. She brought me.
I remember the dirty, seemingly endless steps up to his private chambers. The cold that seeped from the stone floor into my bones. Tattered tapestries hung on the walls. Large squares of lighter stone marked where better specimens had once hung. As we stood before him, Philip Daridon sat wrapped in a poorly hemmed, black robe. His leather boots, cracked and worn, hung on his feet like two old dogs. He wasn't a High-Mage then, just a Mage. And a poor one at that.
My mother had the sense enough to ask for a high price. Enough to feed her children for six months, maybe more if she was careful. The Mage laughed at her, at me. His mirth touched his dry lips, but not the nest of wrinkles around his eyes. He said the girl before him was succulent enough to eat, but would only provide a passing pleasure. He offered half her asking price. My mother took it.
He didn't bed me that night. Or the next. He allowed my fear of the unknown to grow. Kept me in the dark cellar below the kitchen where I could hear the castle's one servant cook their meager meals.
The night he tore into me, showed me what I was for, my life ended and hell began. He pushed into me many times that night in places and positions I didn't know were possible. Fighting back earned me death, only to be resurrected by his awesome power to quell his insatiable appetite for my flesh, my youth. Or so I thought at the time. Now, I understand he fed more than on my body alone.
A few days later, he discarded me. Body and spirit broken. Down into the cellar I went to heal. On occasion, he brought me out to quench his sexual desires. At each summons, I noticed his private rooms held more luxuries. Rich foods appeared more often, even my meals started to include meat. The Mage's physical strength grew. His skin glowed. Dark hair flowed past his shoulders. New servants appeared – always wary of my presence. They were quick to avert their eyes from my own stares. Didn't they know what he did to me? Would they not help?
They helped. They helped me to and from his chambers. Cleaned my wounds if his appetite was particularly voracious. Aided me when I couldn't bear to bring food to my own lips. Supported me until I eat no more. It didn't matter how much or how rich the food, my insides continued to churn. I hungered. For what? I knew not. Thoughts of escape haunted my waking hours. Fear of his power kept me in check. I did not care for my own life, but the lives of my family he threatened.
After a time, he tired of my body. He said, "Too old." By then, he completely controlled me as well as the town and much of the surrounding country-side. They called him High-Mage now.
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