Reapers of Magic and War

    "This one will betray you, Master,” Seeker offered.

Baelidor thought about that comment for only a moment.

   “No, I think not. Betrayal requires trust, and I have none for him. He will serve me, as he himself has forced thousands of souls to do.

   “And what if I don’t?” Cyris asked contemptuously.

   “Watch,” was all Baelidor said as he pointed towards rise below them, just inside the river of molten stone that surrounded the keep.

   Cyris turned to look, and had to take hold of the battlements, in shock. His saw that his brother, Hodnon Scept, was stripped nude and heavily laden down with chains. The staff he normally carried now black as pitch as he no longer carried it, the staffs sister, a golden vorpal sword, had also dimmed. Cyris watched in silence as both the base of the staff and tip of the sword were driven into the ground as they came to a stop, a soldier laughed as he sat Hodnon’s golden help atop the sword’s hilt. Even atop the battlements Cyris could hear the taunts and insults that his captors were hurling at Hodnon, with nothing being said by his brother. It was unlike him, not to respond.

   In anger, Cyris used his magic and slipped through space, arriving directly in front of his brother. In the brief moment before he felt violent blows from his brother’s captors, he wailed in horror as what had been done to him. Falling to the ground, in shock and pain, he was unable to form even his own inherent magic within his thoughts to defend himself, or escape. But his thoughts were now confused at what he saw, having come to believe Lavalor and that each of the Elfaheen were immortal, as long as they held onto their magic. Calling those beliefs fables and lies, his will suddenly collapsed, realizing the danger that Baelidor posed to them all.

   His brothers eyes had been put out, burned out to be exact, so as to ensure he could not see where he was going to cast his magic of creation. His mouth had been sewn shut and the leather threading pulled tight, ensuring he couldn’t manifest his creations with his words, and finally his fingers were severed from his hands so that he couldn’t hold his staff, or vorpal sword of light.

  The captors beat Cyris until he was unconscious while others readied themselves to enjoy the remainder of Hodnon’s punishment.