Mortag

A story I began writing in middle school for a friend.

Mortag sat in his chambers at the dark wooden table. He sneered at the dampness of the waste of this lowland, The air was muggy and hot. The ground boy barren and scored with ruts and things displaced, stuck in the mud. He hated the hot unmerciful sun, the treacherous ball of light. For it had betrayed him. once it was warm and caressed his features now he was driven back like wolves from a flame. 

Also he hated that traitor Fernando, The Supposed King har. Oh he said that I was the traitor That I should be the one to be shamed. Yet it was him who had turned. He who had betrayed. Yet the townsmen listened to him, and I was thrown into this filth. All because of his charm and his silver tongue. 

For Mortag used neither tongue nor per to express this but only spoke to himself in his thoughts. Mortag hated and for good cause to his reasoning. Mortag hated greatly many things and was never fully without anger. 

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He brough out a creased parchment from a hidden alcove in his wall. It was remarkable this wall. Only a knowing hand or a sharp wit would have notice the walls fakery. and discover the treasures inside for this deceit mortag was expressly pleased. Mortage uncreased the many creasees of his fortune until presense was while. It was a Map, not any map mind you, but a map of great abe whotold its story throughout the years to his family. For morgrag was a descendent of great proportion of the fablemed mapmaker, the great Zombco. FOr Zombco begat the father of his father's father's father. Which in turn begat the father of his father father who begat his father at last mortag was begatted. The great zombco was also a wizard of all magic both dark and light. He enchanted the map with his sorcery. Of this mortag took great pride. Many had falleen under its power a slave to it forever. Mortag was Zombco's Descendent and was not ensnared by the allure of it's pwer and in did not partake of his distruction. For mortag's magic was the same as his father and his father before him. And there were not tainted of the maps wicked ways. The map, showed the owener secrets they wished to perciece of. It showed them the way to what they desired most. THe secrets and Desired lacked? their wealth in the world for there were only images for the soul. they requeired the human spirit to make the creased in ones fate. For every Journey Mortag pertook he would conjure the map to determine if he shuld test his fate and life. If his life or fate woul be forsaked mortag would seek to know. Mortag sat in his chambers and begange to chant " Zanto, Zanbe Ancient Magic/ Come to me conjure up the things sought  Aboxan mU Adoxan yu, Only Sought out by the few. Gurum Aplum Oniwiks Zaporini Longtinks/ Stir the blood in the ink"

As Mortag whispered the dark saying the parchment awoke. The creases were lost and words appeared. Swirling mist wrapped around them both. The images showed his journey. The everturning of a the carriage wheel was shown every horse step was heard. Every breath felt, every word said,. Everything of his Journey was recorded and everything  that has to happen felt. Slowly the mist stopped swirling the images fading to almost nothing and the creases where faintly there. and as mortag whispered the dark saying as before the paper grew old, It's creases where creased strongly and as the wind blew through the chambers the parchement creased itself back into its original form and with a sigh the wind stopped. Mortag took the map of the Great Zombca into the deceitful wall and looked at the treacuros sun glaring at him as is if no time had passed. 

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The Shadows had lengthened after middate. After Mortag had rested he wsa waiting for his carriage to be readed and his horses groomed and fed. Three Times had the su, with it's Angry Rays, had set before Mortag had since the Map was sought and the sun would set 4 times before his journey began as the shadows turned to dusk. Mortag prepared for his nightly rest as he was dressing, He heard a small knock on his door. As the door had little thickness, Mortag Still Yelled. 

"Who dare knock upon my chamber door while I am dressing for my Nightly Rest"

"Pardon Me Master, For I am but a Messenger"

"and what message is that lowly Servant"

"Oh Master, The carriage has been readied and Provision made. The horses have been watered and fed. You may began tommarow"

"and what lowly servant who haf not position and is valued by none may decide for me what I may do"

"Humblest apoligies my gerat master, pardon me greatly"

"I should have you shipped ignorant worm but Perhaps I shall not"

"Oh thank you master"

"DO NOT TALK, if yo tell of the reaston that you had failed to tell of the time and it is in reason, I shall spare yo, if you not you shall have 20 lashings."

"Master, May I begin"

" Yes, You Fool"

"I had spoken badly to the chief cook and he had punished me by making me do all the kitchen servants tasks, for after I had washed all your eateries and had swept you great kitchen floor and all the many kirchenly dutys the shadows ahad lengthened and I had gotten the message from the head servant to tell to you for when I had arrived you where dressing for your nightly rest in your chambers, Oh master"

" Lowly Servent, what is your name?"

"Matthew, oh Master"

"Well, Lowly Servent Matthews you are pardoned, if you want to be a messenger and not provoke my anger it would be wise not to speak bad to the cooks or the leader of servants. Now fetch the had servant and depart from my presence."

"Yes, Oh Master I shall Depart"

Morrag finished dressing and lit his candle. He pulled a tattered leather journel front his chest and took his quill and Ink and marked the year, day, and hour and wrote:

XXXX 31 7th Hour

It is the 4th dy since I sought ou my father's father's fathers's fathers's father, the Great Zombco's Map. I has deemed the journey sage. After I have a proper feast I shall began my journey, I can't write why I am going or where for there are secrets only I must eep. I can write when, Tomarrow on the first around middat I expet to stop in a town called bandberBlight, about a half-days Carraige ride. If all is proceeding in the map we should reach it before Nightfall. 

Mortag heard a loud knock on his hamber door. Morrag said in a loud voice. 

"Is it the head servent who knowks on my chamber door while I write of my life

"Yes, it is I oh master, your humble servent. May be blessed with your presens and pass though you threshold."

"no, Brainless one, even the smalles servents child knows the master cannot be seen in his night robe. I have made you supior over the sevents and yet you do not know this!"

"My Pardons, Master I had no knowlage of your outfit for I sent the servent boy matthews to help with you feast."

"You are pardoned head servent. Go to the chief cook and ask about about Matthews. also my bath has not been drawn"

"your bath shall be drawn and I shall go down to your great kitchen Farewell Master"

After the headservent had gone down the long corridors of mortags fortress. Mortag took his Quill and ink and Wrote:

I met a lowly slave who had a loose tongue, HI name was matthews. According to him he cleaned all my eaterie and swempt the fllor of my great kitchen in one day. If he didi well he might be a useful servent. I have little ink left in my ink pot. I will stop this writing for now. 

Mortag had finished his writing and locked the journel in his chest. He hid the key where was a secret only known by him. His bath had been drawn and he had bathed and after he had dressed in to his nightly gown he finally rested. 

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Servent Matthews knocked softly on his master's chamber door for he heard the sounds of awaking. 

"Oh great master have you awakened"

"Could I speak if I was in slumber"

"No Master, You are right, for you are wiser than I 

"No Lowly Servant for you have no wisdom at all"

"Why have you called upon me"

"your feast awaits you o' master"

"Farewell Messenger partake of your way"

MOrtag arised form his bed and went to his dressing room. There Mortag took off his nightly gown and put on his dayly attire. He had put togetherhis traveling things. Mortag went back to his chambers he picked up his trunk and cane. Mortag was fond of his can, a brown switch, finely carved. He could Use the cane for many things, or a journey it would be wise to carry it along.

Mortag open up his chamber door and stepped out into the light from the archers slots marked Mortags way down the stone corridors he turned upon the corner and lay his eyes upon a small thin boy with brown hari and sick eyes. "YOu, servent take my trunk and cane to my carraige, you know the way?" 

" Y-Yes M-M-Master"

the boy stuttered took his things and hurried off. Mortag went to the dining room, sat at the head of the dining table and his feast began. 

The feast was fall of grander, one that the king stomach would be filled with. "King", Mortag was not but even the lowest pauper will eat the fine bread or rich meat if fate tempts him. Mortag sat at the head of the great table. One would laugh as if one laugh at the court fools of the sight that befell his eyes. Mortag the dark and powerful lord sitting in a fine and slippered feet sitting alone among the emptiedroom. For he was the only royalty among them. For married he had not and no child was born unto him. For when death knocked on his threshold. he would have no legacy. First as in all great feasts came the soup. The soup was served in a silver tureen. Once which the candelabra shown the light in many ways. it was a rich both one where the stewbone was snatched before the mongreal as he siezed before his prize. The potatoes and parsnips where boiled long and simmered through and the rich meat floated in chunks with the fat flinted in and out of the air...