There was a time when I was a great leader. I was powerful, respected, perhaps a might ruthless, but fear and respect are frequent bedfellows. I almost united the whole of this land, and I would have had I not been fooled.
My one mistake has cost me five hundred years trapped inside this tome; a prison of parchment and wood, leather and cloth, metal and jewel. The wizards presented it to me as a gift, a gesture of their respect and loyalty, and I was too presumptuous of my own power to see it for what it was: a trap!
I have spent my time imprisoned thinking, plotting, planning, while the rest of the world has spent their time forgetting that I even exist. To listen to some of my guards talk, it seems that I have become nothing more threatening than a tale told to children to scare them. This suits me fine.
My prison is kept in a locked, magically shielded wood and glass case in the basement of the royal mage's academy. I am in a section that was once restricted only to elder mages. There was a time when there would be an attendant here at all times to “keep watch” over the library's valuable contents. Of course they were really meant to keep watch over me; for of all the tomes in this library, mine is the only one sealed by a lock with no keyhole.
Times have changed out there though. The library is no longer kept by the wise and powerful, but frequently by the young who show the most potential. They have grown complacent about me, and while they have done so, the magic keeping me in here has grown weak.
Alas, the magic keeping me imprisoned is not so weak as to allow me to escape myself; I could use all of my will and still barely be able to ruffle a quill or ripple the contents of an ink pot. Still, there are other things I can do.
They have brought me a new captor; a second year Initiate called Wilhelm. Artemus Flatbrush, the Grand Master of the academy himself, brought the lad down. I have history with the Flatbrush family, as Artemus' father was one of the mages who imprisoned me. He is one of the few people who still know of my abilities, but even he does not view me as the danger that he once did.
“You show great promise, Initiate Wilhelm,” the aged elf tells the boy, “and as such you are to be given access to the academy's restricted collection. You may read from any of the books here except for one.”
Flatbrush points to me, I can see him through the glass of my case, “There is one rule that all who enter this library must obey, one going back to before my own birth: thou shalt not disturb that book. That is easily the most powerful and dangerous item here; possibly in all the world.”
Flatbrush goes on that way for awhile, I find it tiresome, but the child watches him with wide eyes. Of course he does, to him I am nothing but a faerie story; a bogeyman hiding under the bed. I can see it in his eyes though; there is more than fear and awe there, there is curiosity.
Eventually the old elf leaves young Wilhelm and I alone. The boy starts looking at the tomes on the shelf, but his eyes keep coming back to me. I exploit this and call to him. I do not call to him clearly; I make him think it is his own idea.
This is not a process to be completed in a single day; the boy is a strong magic user, but his mind is weak. He is certainly weaker than Flatbrush and his mages realize, but not that weak. If his mind could be toyed with that easily he would not be here, but it still weak enough to exploit.
It takes days, weeks, months, but the more he comes here, the more his fear of me lessens and his curiosity grows. It has already been five centuries since I walked the Earth, and I will be free even if it takes five hundred more; I have nothing but time.
I sometimes have difficulty keeping track of time here; I cannot see the sun or the stars to keep track of the days, and even if I could I would not be able to mark the passage of time such as I am, but I would say it has now been at least two months since Wilhelm became my guardian. The only thing that has kept him from giving in to his curiosity this long is his training, but I believe I have finally broken through that.
Flatbrush worries that something is changing about the Initiate, but the other mages are confident that it is just a product of the knowledge that the lad has acquired in his time down here. They are not completely wrong about that, but it doesn't matter because the Grand Master does not even suspect that I am involved in these changes.
It is good for me that he does not suspect me, or else he may pay more attention to my prison and see that its hold grows ever weaker. Weak enough for me to reach out, and weak enough for a second year initiate with the right knowledge to free me; which he is about to do.
After being sure that we are alone down here, Wilhelm sets to work on the case's lock. Even weakened, the spell is still strong, and it takes a lot of effort. A grin of satisfaction spreads across the boy's face as he finally lifts the lid, and the for the first time in centuries fresh air blows across the cover of my personal dungeon.
The lock on the book itself is even more difficult, and sweat pours from the lad's brow as he focuses all his will on it. His power is strong, and it glows like a bonfire, and I add what I can to it; channeling my own knowledge and skill into this young vessel is easier without that cursed box around me. Together we will defeat this last barrier between me and my freedom.
This will attract someone's attention; it is a minor miracle that no one has come to see what young Wilhelm is doing before now. Perhaps I still have some of my old luck after all. Perhaps-
Ah, but I speak too soon. I can feel Flatbrush approaching. Come along, child, finish!
I see Flatbrush enter the room, and stop, “What are you doing, Initiate?”, he cries, and rushes forward, but it is too late. The lock is open, and I will be free!
Lights, movement; the world spins around me. Yes, I remember this feeling from five hundred years ago when I was first captured. A feeling like flight, and it is an appropriate feeling since I am now free to soar again.
Now this is a different point of view. I am the right height again, and no longer at the level of everyone's waists. I stretch, working stiffness out of my neck and arms, and then I look at Wilhelm and Flatbrush.
The old elf has never seen me save for in pictures, but I can see that he recognizes me.
“No,” he gasps, “This cannot be!”
He throws a fireball at me, but he might as well have thrown one his few remaining teeth. I bat the spell aside, setting a bookshelf of rare and valuable knowledge aflame with it. Any other time and the elf would soil his drawers over the damage, but I rather expect that his clothes are already tainted by my mere presence.
I cast a spell freezing the Initiate and the Grand Master where they stand. The stupid look on Flatbrush's face makes me want to punch him. I shall restrain myself for the moment, but he does look so much like his father.
“Hello, Artemus Flatbrush, son of Mordwin Flatbrush, Grand Master of the mage's academy. I would introduce myself, but I can see that you know me already.”
“And to you, Initiate Wilhelm, thank you for your assistance. I am Malifar; once the ruler of this land, and soon to be again. You are a powerful magic user; far more powerful than your teachers know. I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but you are too powerful to be allowed to live. Please, go to the next world knowing that you have altered the course of history, and I shall see to it that your name becomes a part of it.”
With but a gesture from me, Wilhelm's head snaps around. The last thing the boy undoubtedly sees is the look of terror on his master's face. I release him, and the Initiate drops to the floor.
I move to Wilhelm's body, kneel down, and extract the wand from up his sleeve. I have not needed a wand since I was a child myself, but this wand was crafted by the Grand Master himself, and it has been a long time since I have cast a proper spell; it will not hurt to have an extra bit of focus.
Wand in hand, I step towards Flatbrush's unmoving body. There is much work to do to put things right again, but first I shall have a little revenge.
This is going to be messy.