Shorty & the Beast: Part Five (special preview)

The beginning of the story, after all this time, finally starts here. While it may be towards the end, it’s coming right when it should. Around the height of Kyairil’s power and influence, he had been on the right hand of the drow queen, in the area now known as Charbagne. He was a powerful draconic magician, and she enjoyed the power he exuded. She also enjoyed his visage, his beauty, so she made him her lover as well.

Being young and tempestuous, Kyairil rollicked gleefully in all this attention and power. As the queen’s lover he had all sorts of freedoms and allowances. He always bragged he could get away with murder, which would come back to bite him in the ass. He grew to love his Queen, saw her in a way some people might call worshipping. But then, she got sick.

It happened slowly, almost unnoticeable. Things about her behaviour changed as she started taking medicine to ease the pain she was in. Her mind and body were affected, making her lash out with horribly unpredictable mood swings. She was becoming miserable in her slow decline and inflicting misery onto others. She still clung to Kyairil, in fact, she relied on him more and more as her sickness progressed. But it was Kyairil’s vanity, not affection, that kept him by her side. He didn’t want to give up his luxury and comfort that he had grown so dependent upon. But he also had a hard time being around his queen now.

It came to pass that the queen couldn’t leave her bed. She struggled daily with things that used to come so naturally to her. Every day Kyairil heard the death battle from her room, and though she called for him he refused to enter. He was afraid, but he wouldn’t admit that to himself. He feared what she had become, what could easily happen to him. He feared losing her if only for the fact he’d lose what he thought meant most to him. He wasn’t ready to look at himself beyond his own reflection.

Then, the day the story began arrived. He was forced into the queen’s chambers upon her command. She lay in bed, shriveled, unrecognizable and barely breathing. She looked up at Kyairil and raised her hand to touch his face. He wanted to recoil, but he stayed still, letting her bony hand with sagging skin caress him. She smiled at him, reliving fond memories that they had shared together.

“My magician,” she wheezed. “I need you now more than ever.”

Kyairil took her hand and moved it away from his face. He clutched it, holding it away from him so she wouldn’t try to touch again. “I am here now, my queen. Ask of me anything and I will give it to you.”

Her breath rattled again. “Long ago you told me of a potion that allowed for a beautiful death.”

His body grew tense and he nodded. “It’s very hard to come by, even more difficult to make.”

“Good. I don’t want it. I’m not beautiful anymore.” She had to take long breaks to breathe between her words. “But I do want something that will end me all the same. The others won’t let me, but you-” she smiled again. “You will let me die, won’t you?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “My queen, you could get better.”

“I’ll feel better when I’m dead, you piece of shit.” She grabbed hold of his collar when his defenses were down and yanked on him with a strength he wasn’t prepared for me. “You were a good fuck, a pretty face. You saw me that way too.” She coughed in his face. “You owe me for all I did for you. Your dick wasn’t enough. No matter what you think,” she croaked out a laugh.

He yanked back away from her, fixing his shirt back although a button was missing. “Fine,” he huffed. “You caught me. So what is it you want? How do you want to die? In your sleep? Shitting yourself. Perhaps I should make a lever that will send you to hell.”

She cackled. “Wrong lever. I’m already in hell.”

He glared down at her. “So tell me, what way do you want to die?”

She smacked her mouth a few times. “I want to go in battle.”

That was unexpected. Kyaril stared down at her, brow furrowed and lips parted. “You want to fight to the death?”