Fear and Motivation

I love getting right in the middle of a chapter and blasting out tons of brilliant work and then seeing lightning right outside the window. If only I wrote horror stories, I would say that those moments perfectly precipitate the precise emotion that I shoot for.

However, I am working on an epic fantasy. So, terror is not my goal. Not really. But I have decided that my main antagonist should have just the right amount of creepy sprinkled in. As for characterization, here is an excerpt from my book due out this summer.

Aportus was usually grateful for the soft leather pads at the bottoms of his servant shoes. They allowed him to come and go silently while fulfilling his master's demands. At this particular time, he experienced an unfortunate byproduct of that trained silence. Obedient to the end, however, he simply smoothed his black jerkin and inspected sleeves closely as he patiently waited. He dared not make a noise. His master was known to sometimes ignore a waiting servant for over a candle-mark while he worked through some issue or another.

Lesser servants would attempt to politely clear their throats or even speak their presence, but not Aportus. He would never dream of insulting his master so. That is why he had outlived many of his master's servants. Not that he didn't have ambition. Quite the contrary. He was perhaps the most ambitious of all of the servants in the house. Maybe even the world. Aportus knew the secrets of being the best servant possible. All of his lessons boiled down to one simple maxim: know your master better than you know yourself.

And Aportus knew his master. He knew that his master was a creature of extreme habit. He knew that his master was ludicrously powerful. He knew every taste that his master craved and every smell that he loved. He could tell his master's mood before his master moved or said anything. He had known for some time that his master may one day rule the known world. He knew that to interrupt even his master's thoughts was worthy of death. But what he did not know was what his master looked like.

He had never seen his master's face. Or his hands. Or any other part of his master's flesh. During every encounter with him, Aportus only saw him in shadow and only covered head to toe with black silks or black leather.

Aportus had almost always considered himself to be the very best servant that anyone could find in all the empires of the world. His lot had not always been as spectacular as it was now. Shortly after his tutelage finished, he was forced to settle for a house of an almost unacceptably low station. The matriarch was petty and spiteful. The patriarch was a slovenly ingrate. Even their children learned to complain before they learned to walk. They considered him one of the common slaves of the home, even though he was technically free to come and go as he desired. When he was paid, it was usually much less than the pittance they had agreed upon. For years this went on. Aportus hated his life. Then, everything changed. His future master had come to his chambers in the dead of night and offered him wealth beyond measure for his servitude. Aportus quickly agreed. Anything would be better than the insulting conditions that he was forced to endure day in and day out. And so, he laughed to himself as he packed his things, listening to the death cries of his former employers.

And so he found himself standing patiently and silently waiting to learn the orders that his master would have for him. He would wait like this for as long as his master deemed necessary. He did not wait because his master paid him precisely on time as arranged. Nor did he wait because the amount that he was paid made him in fact more wealthy than most lords and ladies of the land. Not even out of fear did he wait. No, he waited because he respected his master, and to respect one's master meant that you simply did what was asked of you no matter how difficult.

“Ah, I see you are here. Good,” his master said, not even turning to face Aportus. “I would like for you to prepare and deliver a message for me. I want every member of our little council to arrive at the circle of stones at Pecua in precisely three weeks. We have much to discuss. Be sure to impress upon them the importance of punctuality for this meeting. I do so hate having to wait.”

Aportus nodded. He turned and took several steps toward the door.

“Oh, and have someone come and clean this mess.”

Aportus turned and noticed the speckles of glass glinting on the floor where the master's mirror had been.

“Yes sir.”

“I would hate for anyone to get... hurt.”

Let me know what you think in the comments below.