Chaos


"What drives the universe?"

The boy's master looked up, his eyes peering out from beneath bushy brows like two hostile animals in their caves. He grunted and turned his eyes back to the heavy leather-bound books before him. To his left, a red candle flickered and dripped was like blood. "You should know the answer to that, boy," the master replied. "It's part of your training. Haven't you been paying attention? Love, Light and Order drive the universe." He shook his craggy head, long white hair gleaming dully in the candlelight. "A fine priest you'll make if you don't know that by now," he muttered with disdain. He gestured with one withered hand, and the boy fetched another stack of ancient texts and placed them on the dark wooden desk. The boy paused for a moment, his slim fingers nimbly tracing the cavorting figures of fauns and nymphs that were inlaid at the edges of the old desk, his eyes thoughtful and hidden. His master spared him a cursory glance, no more. Of all the boys he had trained in the White Arts over the years, this one was probably the most impudent. And the oddest.

"Master," the boy began as an unbidden smile played with the corner of his mouth and a mischievous glee danced playfully behind his violet eyes. "How could that possibly be all? What of Chaos? Does it not drive the world as well?"

His master snorted, dismissing the idea. "Don't ask stupid questions, boy. Chaos is a thing for devils."

"Do not devils tempt us as angels do? Why should one rule our destiny more than the other?"

The old man regarded his pupil coldly for a moment as the shadows cast by the wavering candles chased each other across the angles and planes of the room. Then he pointed one bony and crooked finger at the young man before him, mouth set in a determined snarl. "Cease your dangerous questions. It is not wise that you have these thoughts, as they lead only to trouble. You are here to learn the way of the righteous. Only pain and suffering await if you choose the shadowed path."

"Pain and suffering, yes," the boy replied, unable to hide the dark humour and curiosity that lurked in his soul despite his best intentions. "But for me... or others?"

The old man was on his feet more rapidly than the boy would have thought possible, his hand lashing out like a stray dog. The sound of the callused hand striking pale young flesh was as shocking as the scream of rape in the night. The boy stood, his head rocked to one side, blood trickling from one side of his mouth, and the old man remained still as well. The candles flickered from the rush of air caused in the wake of the sudden violence, but all else was motionless.

"Blasphemer," the old man hissed. "To question that which we hold as truth is both foolish and dangerous! If you have any brains rattling around in that head of yours you will leave off wondering about the nature of Chaos and be content with Love, Light and Order. Ask no more questions."

"What of the force behind Chaos?" the boy persisted. "The Lord of N - " His master struck him again, rocking the boy's head against his other shoulder.

"Do not speak that name here. You would do well boy, to never mention her name again. Now go and do penance for your sinful thoughts, and if I lay eyes on you once more this night I shall beat you within an inch of your miserable life. Understood?"

The boy was about to talk back, but held his tongue with some effort. The monastery had an extensive library, and it would be prudent for him simply to smile and nod until he could do some research on his own. Acting was a useful talent, it would seem.

"Of course master," the boy replied humbly. "I apologize for my thoughts and deeds." His master grunted once more, dismissing him brusquely. The boy padded out into the dark stone hallway, wiping the blood from his mouth as he did so. He would not forget this little incident.

The boy did one-day return to the monastery, years later. By this time he had learned the nature of Chaos and told his old master as much. When the old man asked what this nature was, the boy-who was no longer really a boy at all-had replied that it was a secret. The old man died choking on his own blood before he could ask any further questions, alas. The boy who wasn't really a boy any longer continued on his merry way, travelling the age-old roads that twined throughout the lands and spreading chaos in his own unique way. When asked his motives, he would only smile and state that 'that was a secret' and move on. Eventually he went on to become one of the most feared and powerful beings of the age; but that of course, is another story and a secret as well.


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