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Cover Revenge


The Power of Words

By Rival Gates

I am writing this right around the 4th of July. It is at times like this that we, as a people, are reminded of the power of the written word. Thomas Paine wrote “Common Sense” and inspired many American Colonists to back the American Revolution. Strong words made the colonist’s point clear in the Declaration of Independence. More thought and ever-stronger language formed the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights. Other nations have similar stories of powerful writings that framed their country. I love public speaking and hold the great speakers in the highest regard. Other that a few famous quotes, though, speeches come and go. The written word is forever. And where do those speeches come from? They were written before a sound was ever heard. In today’s technology laden society, people are looking for instant gratification. They want to hear a song or watch a movie for entertainment. And let’s not forget social media. My own son told me people don’t have time to read words any more. But where do all their forms of entertainment start? That’s right. They all began with written words. They cannot go away because they are the foundation of all media. It is true that many people would rather go see a movie made from a book than actually read one. What gives me pride are the numbers of times I come out of such a movie and hear the patrons say, “The book was better.” I’ll let you in on a little secret. The book is always better! When you read a book, you interpret the setting and characters how you want. The story flows through your mind. At the movies you are seeing someone else’s vision of the story; edited for time. Your imagination will always create more of what you like than a Hollywood stranger. So next time you hear about a movie coming out you want to see, read the book first. Then see how the movie compares. Special effects can’t beat imagination.


The master lost his temper and threw a stool across the room.

He stood by Necromancer shaking from his anger in frustration at

not being able to let it out at the wizard.

“Now,” Mandrean bellowed as he began to circle the albino,

“you didn’t help Grithinshield by any chance, did you?” He paused

and heard nothing in reply. “I didn’t think so,” Mandrean said with

sarcasm. “Because if you had helped Linvin kill me, that would

violate our little arrangement and present serious repercussions for


Necromancer did not speak. He merely looked away. Mandrean

found the silence more infuriating than the rude comments the

servant normally made.

“You do remember the agreement, do you not?” Necromancer

looked at him with a face that acknowledged the absurdity of the

question. That expression alone put his benefactor over the edge.

“You must follow my commands to the letter,” Mandrean

yelled. As if to prove his point, he barked an order.

Water had spilled on the floor from the bath. It made the surface

slippery and dangerous. “I wouldn’t want to slip and hurt myself in

a fall. Dry up all the water on the floor immediately!”

Necromancer rose and smiled knowingly. Then he waved his

hand. The floor turned red as it instantly became superheated. In as

much time as it took Mandrean to scream in pain and leap into the

water, all the liquid on the ground was dried and gone.

Necromancer was unaffected by the sudden change in ground

temperature as he hovered above the floor. He bowed in jest and

said, “As you commanded, Oh, great one, all the water on the floor

was dried up. Do you have any other commands that I may follow

so precisely?”

Mandrean’s feet were burned and throbbed in the water. “Now

you’ve done it, you miserable troll! It says in the Great Concession

that you cannot hurt me, or do you not remember?”

Necromancer smiled and knelt once again by the bath. “I know

the Great Concession better than you ever will, and it says that I

cannot hurt you of my own accord. There is nothing that says you

cannot be harmed while I follow your commands to the letter.

“And as far as remembering things go, here’s a quote you

should remember.” He stood and floated toward the stairs. Then

Necromancer turned and quoted, “You are mine—mine for mine

and nine of mine’s time.” He smiled with a mischievous look that

shivered down Mandrean’s spine. Then he pointed to the burned

emperor and said, “You are Nine.” With that, he turned and was

gone. The doors above slammed behind him.

Mandrean was submerged to his chin in the bath. His anger had

turned to terror so suddenly that he temporarily lost control of his

bodily functions.



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