This week’s Work-In-Progress is from a short story that I’ve been working on here and there between working on my novella When All Else Fails for the Open Novella Contest. It’s from Enlil’s Royal, a short story that will be going into a collection I’m planning to release next year.
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ENLIL ROSE INTO the sky, the sparks dancing around him and the winds picking up. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream of triumph, spread his arms and unleashed the storm inside. They thought they could beat him down? They thought that because he was of a lower class than they were that they could treat him like scum? Well, they’d learn. Because this so-called slave was their downfall, the perfect storm to bring reform. The princess was his, and they had denied him to her simply because he didn’t look like the one they thought she was pledged to.
Lightning arced out of his fingertips, and the thunderheads blew from his mouth as he howled his victory. Below, houses went up in flames, and torrents of rain washed away whatever the flames didn’t touch. Then the rain put out the flames in the other areas too, and everything was enveloped in a maelstrom of wind, rain, and lightning with the thunder booming over it to provide the final beat on the drum that announced that death had come.
He stretched his arms out further, tipped his head back and laughed into the sky. This was power. This was freedom. They would learn, and they would suffer just as everyone they had touched with their corruption had. Just as he had. This storm, he himself, were only the beginning. The beginning of devastation.
Only his betrothed would escape. But if she scorned him? His fingers twitched, shooting off more sparks and another bolt of lightning. If she scorned him, he would make her suffer more than all of her subjects. She had no right to refuse destiny, no right to look down on him because fate hadn’t chosen a more worthy object for her affection. So, if she thought him unworthy, he would show her how wrong she was. The vessel that housed him might be a slave, but he was no slave. He was far more ancient and powerful than any of them. He was storm. He was thunder. And he was destruction incarnate. He would have his way.
They would hear him thunder, and they would regret awakening his wrath. The gate to the castle grated upward, and Enlil paused in meting out his anger on the village. He squinted at the rising grate and watched a tiny figure exit. He waited, trying to make out who the figure was. In the gloom of the storm, he could only see that it was a girl with a slender build and a sword strapped to her waist. She made her way straight for him, so he crossed his arms and waited for her to reach him. Was it Ashurina, the girl he’d started this over?
She drew closer, and he waited with bated breath. Finally, she stood before him, and the painful wait was over. It was the girl he’d been dreaming of and waiting for. She was here, all grown up and ready for him. Only, she wasn’t ready because her family hadn’t prepared her and had then refused him his due. They knew who she was, but still they denied him to her. Rage boiled in his veins, and lightning sparked at the tips of his fingers. He’d blow them to pieces. That would teach the people around here not to go back on their word to their gods. He’d tested them, and they’d failed. He’d given them a chance, and they hadn’t taken it.
“Princess.” He smiled at her.
She shivered, but her grip remained firm on her sword, and she didn’t give any other visible sign of distress. “Who are you?”
“Enlil. The destroyer.”
She bit her lip and tightened her grip on her sword. “Why are you here?”
“To repay them for the vow they broke.”
She shook her head. “You can’t destroy them.”
He took a step closer and grabbed her wrist. “I can do whatever I please, particularly with you, Princess.”
Another tiny shake of her head. “You can’t.”
He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if she’d really just said he couldn’t. “I’m capable enough, I assure you.”
A shudder traversed through her body, and she looked near tears. Yet, somehow, he didn’t want to relent. He wanted to punish her. They had denied him what was his. Someone had to pay. Killing them would be one way to exact the price, but would it send the message he wanted? He released Ashurina and crossed his arms with a frown. Maybe not. Perhaps it would be better if he made sure her parents knew she was suffering for their crimes. Perhaps he would only kill the king and leave the queen to bear the guilt of what she and her husband had done to their daughter. Their only baby girl. He grinned and took another step forward so that his chest almost brushed Ashurina’s. Making her pay sounded good. He’d make her see reality, and he would crush her in retribution.
She was his, and her presence here sealed the deal. He wouldn’t leave without her. She was his Chosen, and she would remain by his side, lending him the strength only a Chosen could give, until she passed from this realm to the afterlife. A strange sense of exhilaration sang inside, the prospect of shaping her into the perfect instrument for his revenge and the perfect vessel for his use driving the sensation to a peak. Yes, undoubtedly, she was his, and there would be no escape for her.
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That’s it for this week’s work-in-progress Wednesday. What are you guys up to this week? Working on anything new for your own work-in-progress or reading anything interesting? Feel free to share!
