Sunday, April 21, 2013
Journal of the Sorcerer Gaumata--How I Began My New Life as a Sorcerer
After killing those two, I left the place and returned in the morning when the crowd was removing her charred remains. The villagers saw me and immediately began to make the sign against the evil eye. Nobody dared accuse me of sorcery aloud, and this made me smile. I’d finally revealed my power. They were helpless against me. I inspired dread!
I left only to return later to eavesdrop on their conversations. Indeed, many of them suddenly remembered incidences where they had been forced to do things when they had been around me. They even accused me of things I’d not done. I felt a surge of power. No longer was I the skinny brat who was beaten and hated. No longer was I simply the grown, pitiful son of the town whore. I wanted to feel the power.
It was the morning of the next day and people congregated near the village well. I approached and stood fearlessly in the midst of them. The same people who had treated me like a dog made way for me and looked at me fearfully, but nobody dared to attack me. They just made the sign against evil and looked away. I wanted more. That night, I killed two cats and threw them into the village well. I imagined the reeking water after a few days. It would have been wonderful, I thought, to know a few spells and curses to increase the power of the evil I had wrought, but I was a mere pup. There was much for me to acquire.
I left that night hungering for knowledge. My mother had accused me of sorcery for my entire life. Now I saw this as a good thing. I wanted to surpass even my father in evil. Finally I was powerful! I had a mission in life and greatness awaited me. The only thing I needed now was a master who could teach me how to bridle this incredible power that came naturally to me. I wondered if my father had known what he was doing when he sired me. Had he longed for a powerful heir? If so, why had he left me alone with no guidance? It seemed that he indeed had a purpose, for he’d stayed with my mother until he was well sure that she was pregnant.
I couldn’t shake the idea that I was a miserable accident—a result only of his base urge to mate. I couldn’t stomach the idea that I was but a product of lust. If I ever found my father, I determined, I would torture and kill him before having to learn the truth. Before meeting him I would be powerful enough to cut the tongue out of his head and feed it to the buzzards in the desert. I elected not to hear the truth. I wanted to think that he had sired me as his heir. I was the culmination of his power! I was a son for which he could be proud. I would surpass him in the skills of sorcery! And then I would put him to death for his insolence!