Insomnia

Mithil stared at the rough hewn mine ceiling.  She had to fall asleep to recover her spells but sleep simply would not come.   It didn’t help that Fluteria was not speaking to her.

Why was she here?  How had her life brought her to these dank surroundings?  Water dripped from a ceiling nearby making a new stalactite if it was left undisturbed for a few thousand years.

Her empathetic link to her friend throbbed with cold hurt.  She sighed and looked over at the ranger who guarded them.  He was a cipher.  

Her mind played back over the spells she had cast.  Her feelings were conflicted.  She loved the raw power which left her slight form.  She could feel it being collected from every part of her and pouring out at her command.  It was intoxicating!!  Paradoxically, the more power she pulled from her lithe body, the stronger she became.

But she could remember the pain she had caused.  Such pain!  These were living beings she had burned, electrocuted, and pummeled to death.  She knew there was no choice but she did not have to enjoy the pain it caused.

A thought tremored through her bond, “at least you still understand that” and then fell into stony silence.

She flashed angrily through the bond at her familiar.  The one fireball she had cast had burned five sentient beings to death.  Their deaths had occurred in a mere six seconds but what must that have felt like to be burned alive!  Six seconds must have felt like an eternity.

She hoped the deaths she caused by electrocution were less painful.  Maybe that kind of death stopped the heart first?  Maybe she would ask Hilvin which spell caused less pain.  Surely he would know?  If only she could put them all into a deep slumber.  If only she could put herself into a slumber now!

The drip drip of the water continued and she could tell her friend had gone to sleep with something like satisfaction.  

Why am I here?  There are more competent wizards.  She knew this.  How did the fate of so many come to balance on the actions of so few?  Her mind went round in unproductive circles.

How was she going to keep her promise to Fluteria?  She rejected out of hand what she had been taught.  Fluteria was not merely an extension of herself.  She had too much personality and love.   If Flute was made from a piece of herself, that piece had taken on life and evolved into something more.  If Flute was made from my soul, she was made from the very best parts.

Why had she eaten that apple?  Why had she taken cards from that deck?  Did she want to die?  Deep down, did she feel she did not deserve a good life?  That good life could have been had in any number of places other than this mine.  She was not unattractive and many possible mates had sought her out.  Why, then, for the love of all holy things, was she in this stupid stupid mine with her one friend not speaking to her?

She turned her back to the other so her tears would not be seen, even by the sharp eyed ranger.  What was his name?   She never could remember.  Ael’Sooleo?  Suleo?  Ael’Sooleo’Palen’Lotsmorenonsensewordsdividedbyapostrophies?   Why do Elves always have names with ten syllables?  She bet when they were alone they had single syllabic names.  The unpronounceable names were probable jokes they played on non-elves.

On and on her mind circled on and on until almost two hours later, sleep finally came to her.