When I say snippets I mean, I really have cut this from my novel. Book five of my series Tales of Destiny is actually a prequel. It explores the lives of Arianna and Clay long before Mara was ever born. Centuries kind of long. I have written little bits of history about this character and that--over the years and have found ways to place most of them in the novel. But I have more material than I really need so sadly, this fine gem has been cut. But hey it's a bonus story for you!
Traps and Treason
Morvayne sat in his study, his hair tied back in a single ponytail. On the table, his journal sat open on a random page from the past. Oh, the plans he had made! Within his journals tales of his desires and tortures and plans of demise were penned, and sketched, and formulated.
How he hated mankind. Humans were the bane of his existence to rid the world of them was his desire, and yet he knew that would not be right. He fought within his very being over how much would be enough . . . to clear Europe? Bah! Not enough by half! No . . . two thirds of the entire world's population . . . yes. Oh yes, that sounded just right.
Over the centuries he had dabbled in death. Visiting dreams he inspired such thoughts as how to create weapons of war, in ever more deadly degrees. Explosives, guns . . . bombs. Yes, he took credit for all modern advances. Pity none, but his closest sycophantic followers knew of his brilliant plays in the destruction of Humanity.
Oh, how he yearned to rule all the world . . . soon. So very soon all would be right in the world. He would be king over all the nations, races and beings. Ridding the world of Fairies would not bother him one bit. His rich laughter startled his servant standing outside the door as Morvayne burst out in merry mirth.
Ah, Morvayne thou art a treasure to be sure.” Morvayne closed the book and carefully returned it to his shelf, ensuring it was placed in the correct year. Raising his voice he called his servant into the room, “Come.”
Morvayne studied the beautiful male Fairy as if studying a bug. He was upsized to his full five foot five, as opposed to his natural five point five inches. His wispy red hair was closer to blond, cropped fairly short and yet falling softly over his ears. His grey eyes were a marvel to behold. Morvayne collected beautiful items and saw no reason why he should not also be surrounded by the most beautiful of servants.
It truly saddened him that he could not always keep such beauty around him. Yet . . . is not one flower just as lovely as the next?
Kuya stood calmly allowing his Master to admire his beauty, indeed he was very aware and keenly proud of his looks. Looks which enabled him to gain the prestigious assignment of working for Lord Morvayne.
And yet there was a tension marring his beauty. Morvayne studied him a moment longer until he verified that, yes, he was clenching his jaw ever so slightly. Surely a sign of guilt. Kuya had been looking below Morvayne’s eyes, a sign of deference to the magnificence of Elves over Fairies. Yet he raised them now sensing Morvayne’s request.
‘Kuya, would you bring me my tea out on the veranda? I do believe today will be a glorious day after all.”
Kuya looked into the face of his Master; that gloriously beautiful face: pale, but not porcelain. Hair more faded brown than truly blond and eyes like the clouds forming within his own soul. Kuya knew that Morvayne knew. He knew that Morvayne was not pleased; and this only increased his anxiety. But what to do? Bowing he replied, “Of course, my lord.”
Morvayne kept his mirth inside and prepared his trap. It was experimental, not yet tested on a single being . . . fitting that Kuya should be his test subject. Before doing anything else Morvayne created a barrier over the compound . . . an invisible shield preventing entry and escape. The shield was created in such a way that should escape be attempted a tell tale wave of energy would resonate back to Morvayne, much like the strands of a web tells the spider that dinner has landed.
Morvayne chuckled as he recalled his school lessons in which he had transformed into a wolf spider and stayed that way for a week, so thrilling to be connected to nature that way . . . to know when your meal has landed within your trap. But today the trap was different. Kuya should not have snooped among the journals, it was none of his affair to know what plans Morvayne had set into play.
Energized to get underway, Morvayne went outside to await his tea. His fear as far as this experiment was concerned was based on the fact that Morvayne had sworn an oath of goodness in order to gain his greater powers. Under this oath he was unable to outright kill anyone or any truly sentient being, with magic. He had already learned that he could kill and delightfully so while having been transformed into a Vampire. . . but that was not going to help decrease the population swiftly enough, nor would it help him with his goal of getting rid of the Queen of All the Realms. Her power was vast.
Morvayne’s mood was light as Kuya set the tea before him, indeed, his eyes sparkled brightly, sending spasms of fear through Kuya . . . the Elf truly is mad! Insane . . . not right. Kuya opened a magical window to escape and found it blocked.
Nostrils flaring he scanned the yard and saw no place to hide.
Smiling lazily Morvayne said, “Kuya do not fear; this will not hurt at all.”
Then he raised his two hands nearly to his chin and blew Dust from them, directing the breeze to where Kuya stood. The combination of Fairy Dust that Morvayne used consisted of a scented ambrosial variety which was quite rare and, when combined with Morvayne’s own Dust, the effect was such that the magical being breathing it in felt stunned momentarily and then sleepy.
Morvayne caught the Fairy before he fell to the paved patio. Swiftly, before Kuya awoke, Morvayne manipulated the properties of Kuya, shrinking him back down to his normal Fairy proportions of five and a half inches and then he placed him within the prepared trap.
A magical, or scientifically, created box depending on one’s knowledge. Based off of the theory that Morvayne had discussed once with Erwin Schrödinger. Morvayne had been working fifty years to perfect it, mathematically adjusting spells to work upon the Fair. Now he was ready to try the thought experiment for real. What made it all the more unique was the fact that once a Fair One was placed within the box, the being was responsible for their own demise, or not.
Schrödinger’s experiment involved placing a cat within a box which was rigged to expose the cat to radiation and/or explosives or not. The theory being that the cat is both dead and alive until the box is opened to either destroy or not. Morvayne’s box worked within the 11th dimension which all the Fair Ones have access to, generally called the Land of Dreams. Kuya, having been placed in the box was then trapped until he himself made the choice of which of the many splintered lives to claim as his true existence. In other words, Kuya was to experience every possible path his life could have taken based on minor and major actions, both of his own and all the rest of the world . . . the number of lives is truly staggering to contemplate.
Kuya found himself in his Dream state. It was true that it had not been painful. He realized he had lived, and could recall, every possible choice . . . ah the glory that was his in so many of those lives! The loss he felt for loved ones never known . . . his wives and children; he missed them more than he could verbalize. And yet having sampled all, he knew the choice was clear: he would die young having never met the loves that were only months away from entering his life.
Morvayne was excited to open the box it was like Christmas, not knowing what would be inside and not knowing which result would make him happier. His elegant hand cradled the small wooden box a moment as he felt the essence of life within. Then in one graceful motion he opened it to find Kuya still living.
As the Fairy stepped out, fluttering his orange wings tentatively, Morvayne asked softly, “Why?”
Kuya looked up at his master and replied, “That I may serve.”
Movayne in his pride and joy at triumph failed to note the deception, Kuya meant to serve his Queen.