The fire is warm, but I’m cold. It is late at night, chill, and damp, but I’m feverish and sweating. I’m kneeling before the fire, watching it. I hear the sound of scales on stone then dirt as Snake moves from the door of the lair to beside me. I realize his serpentine forms smell differently than his human form. “You’re pushing yourself too far again. Pull yourself together. Pick a world and ground yourself in it.” He wipes sweat from my brow. I want to answer him, but not enough of me is here to do anything other than watch the fire.
The coffee is cooling in the mug. It has not been touched since Jill set it on the table before me. She looked at me strangely when she first brought it. When I gave no response, she bowed slightly and closed the privacy curtain to my booth in the Cafe on Main. She has returned twice to check up on me, only disturbing the curtain enough to quickly glance at me. Both times I can tell she is unsettled by my still silence. Both times I am unable to refute her concern.
The mud is dirtying my knees. Around me large alligators move with deceptive slowness. The transition from land-mud to swampwater is a short one and only inches away from me. Spanish moss point to breezes sneaking through the cypress trees. Algae on the water betray lazy currents. I think I know where I am. I think I’ve been here before. I want to look down the bank. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a building. However, I am unable to move, and am at the mercy of the increasing number of gators.
I am on my knees in the Dark Hall. The troll hide is my cloak reformed is the same color as the greedy black on my skin, which is the same color as the black of the floor, which is the same color as the form standing behind the throne of the bright queen. The only colors here are the black, white, and red. Nothing is moving, not even dust in the air.
The compacted ash cradles my knees in the Boneyard. I am kneeling before a particular pyre and surrounded by mounds of bones. Ravens are perched above me, watching without comment. My deathmask is lying face up over my clasped hands in my lap, featureless except for a red spot on the lips. I watch the flames without moving. More ravens gather. One alights on my exposed shoulders. It begins to tear into my shoulders, ripping apart the scabbed wound anew.
“They are asserting their claim.” The Bright Queen sits motionless on her throne. If she spoke by force or by will, I do not know. My vision is fixed on the floor under her feet. The material of her throne is black, like all else in the Dark Hall, but it is polished to such a degree it appears to glow and reflects a silver sheen. The flesh on my shoulders loudly rip open. Hot blood flows down my arms, and is lapped up by the cold black that embraces me.
Before the lair’s fire, I start shuddering. From fever or chill, I do not know. I am heated as if engulfed in fire. I am chilled as if encased in ice. Snake touches my shoulders. “You are bleeding again. The scars have reopened.” I feel him covering my shoulders with cloth. “Did you think the Ravens would let you play at this for long?”
I do not know when Jill slid into the booth, closing the privacy curtain behind her. I do not know when she took my hands in hers. I do not know when she moved the coffee to the side. I only know she was staring me in the eyes, but I was not what she was observing.
“You have served well, Scarlet Wolf. You have fulfilled your tasks, and paid the debt you believed incurred for invading my hall. But tell me, why should I release such an obedient servant?” I could feel her smiling. “You have enjoyed yourself under my banner.”
More ravens attack my body in the Boneyard. But for all their assault, I do not fall over. I remain upright, pushing back when their mass threatens to upset me. I remain kneeling as they rip open recently healed wounds and add two more gouges to the number on each shoulder. For all the loud cries and the beats of wings and the blood flowing down my arm, I am not in distress. I am in pain, but I am not concerned. I attribute this to the number of concurrent splits in my awareness. I am in too many places at once to fully engage with any one of them.
Snake removes the cloth from my shoulders. It is bloodsoaked. He throws it into the fire and strips my to my waist. He wraps something around my arms and explores my chest and back with his hands. I do not know what he is looking for.
“Forgive my intrusion into your personal space. I must monitor you.” Jill releases my hands and tugs on my shirt. It transforms under her hand into a front buttoned blouse. She opens it and runs her hand over my chest in the same way Snake is doing at the lair.
“What if I were to keep you? You wear my colors so well.” I did not answer the Bright Queen.
The ravens stopped tearing into my flesh and retreat back into silent observation.
Snake stopped his inspection and held his hand to my back.
Jill flattened her hand over my sternum.
I start to shudder violently in the swamp. I feel the tremblings that warn of a greater seizure.
A large raven lands on the deathmask I am holding. It caws loudly in my face.
“I know why you came to me, Keri. Why you risked me instead of Esse. I know why you have these self-destructive compulsions. I know why you have [a mythic] as your warden. I know why the Ravens worked quickly to claim you once you became available. I know [certain other things]. As much as I enjoy your… attention, I know you will destroy yourself if I keep you for much longer.” The Bright Queen never moved, never gestured, never shifted from her position upon the throne, but I knew she had commanded me to approach her. And I knew how I was to do so.
In the swamp, I heard heavy footsteps moving quickly through the brackish water. Some of the gators began to move away from the incoming creature. Some remained and turned to face the intruder warily.
The raven continued standing in my lap. Continued watching me with silent intensity.
Snake placed his other hands into position to catch me as I started trembling there as well.
Jill kept her hand on my sternum, but pushed me against the back of the booth, pinning me in place. I could not see if she was staring into my eyes, for not only was I trembling there as well, but my eyes had rolled back into my head.
Still keeping my vision fixed low, I crawled on my knees to the lap of the Bright Queen and laid my head on her knees. She reached down, her first movement, and lifted my head with both hands. Her skin, her robes, her lips, were white. So white and bright, it hurt my eyes to look at her. Her hands and nails were white. Her crown was made of twisted light and jeweled with drops of piercing radiance.
“This is not how you came to me, Scarlet Wolf. Draw your sword. Grasp your shield.” I did as commanded. I was nothing but a shadow before her. An echo of someone that once had been and would never be again. I felt the greedy black seeping into my eyes. My vision began to fade.
I started to fall backwards in the swamp. Something grabbed my shirt and pulled me forward and up. I was deadweight in the intruder’s hand. I heard no more footsteps but I heard something sloshing around like in a bucket or bottle.
The raven that was watching me suddenly bent down and viciously began pecking and prying at the red dot on the lip of the mask.
At the lair I heard screaming. Someone was leaning back into Snake’s ready arms and screaming as if greatly wounded. But I felt no pain.
Jill’s hand was at my jaw, holding my head up. I started seizing in the booth.
The Bright Queen pulled my blinded face close to hers. Her lips touched mine. I felt something lift of my lips. I felt other things pull away from my flesh. It felt like my skin was being ripped off of me, but I knew it wasn’t my skin. It was something I had taken comfort in, something I had wanted to hold on to, something that was a parasite to me but I had become drunk off its toxins. I wanted to scream but she held me bound.
She held all of me.
I had forgotten who she is.
She reminded me.
Another name floated to the surface of my pain-addled consciousness. And the fear of it almost destroyed me.
I could feel her smile. I knew then what fear is.
I will destroy you if you ever come to me unbidden again. I will destroy you, and not even the memory of your name will remain.
In the swamp I heard the sloshing sound increase. The grip pulls me higher. A harsh liquid is suddenly sprayed into my face.
In the cafe, I jerk violently. Jill’s hand closes on nothing as my awareness, and my form, dissolves from the Cafe on Main.
In the swamp, I hear a man proclaiming loudly in a language I do not recognize. He inhales sharply, the liquid sloshes again, and I am sprayed with the stinging liquid once more.
I’m lying in Snake’s arms beside the fire. My eyes are open but I can not see. I mutter a word, but Snake does not hear me and asks me to say it again. “Rum. RUM! … It’s rum.” He chuckles and tells me to follow the rum. My awareness and my form dissolve from the lair.
She held my head as one would hold a large pomegranate to offer, or being offered. She held me out at arm’s length. The blood still dripped from the wounds on my shoulder. My eyes were open but I could not see. But I could feel her smile. I will always feel her smile.
The liquid sloshes once more. The spray covers me once more. The man makes one last proclamation and violently pulls me forward. His intention is clear, his aim is true. He throws me into the gator infested waters of the swamp. I sink quickly. Something reaches up from the mud and grasps me. It pulls me into the mud of the bottom of the swamp, overwhelming me physically and mentally until even my awareness is destroyed.
My body dissolves from the Dark Hall. Starting with my extremities, it feels as if I am evaporating into the still dead air. It occurs swiftly until only my head remains in the Bright Queen’s grip. She keeps it for a moment, then opens her hand, releasing me. My flesh, and my awareness, dissolves completely from the Dark Hall.
I fall over in the Boneyard. The mound of bones I collide with clatter with hollow notes as I am unable to protect myself. My body trembles. My shoulders sting. I scream without purpose or knowledge. I move aimlessly and wind up lying on my back.
A large raven lands on my chest. Seeing it with my unified awareness brings my screaming to a halt. I looked around and recognized where I was. I wanted to whimper in fear. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum because I realized I had been masterfully played. I wanted to refute some of the things the Bright Queen said. I wanted to challenge the notion that Snake is my warden. I wanted to find something to focus on other than the massive coils of hate that I held for myself for being weak and giving in to what I knew was the Wrong Thing To Do.
The raven flies off to join the others watching me silently from the surrounding mounds. I sit up and find my deathmask. The red dot that had been on the lip was gone. It was featureless once again. My shoulders had more wounds inflicted upon it. I wondered if the notion that it was a representation of rank was just bullshit to make me feel better about being branded. You mark what you own, after all.
I slipped the mask over my face to hide the tears I could not hold back. I was greatly conflicted. I didn’t know what was truth or what was bullshit meant to keep me complacent. I didn’t know who I could trust, or who was just keeping a dangerous weapon in a safe place. The only thing I could hold as true, is once ‘Keri’ dies, then all this bullshit dies with her. Weaver will then remember what incarnation hides, and some shit will get settled.
But first, I have to finish this life.
How the hell am I supposed to do that with any kind of peace, if I can’t trust anyone to tell me the god damn truth!
“How was your fix? Was it good? How long until another shot?” I didn’t take the mask off, just looked over my shoulder at the speaker.
“It was good. Good for those that took advantage of it. And that avenue has been sealed off to me. Ravenwoman.”
She clambered to the mound opposite of me and sat so we were eye to eye. “I tried to purge that from you, you know. Your love of violence. You should have let me.”
“You tried to keep me your private servant.”
“You enjoyed it. Do not sit there and lie to me. I know your heart.”
“As many times as you ripped it apart and charbroiled it, you should. There’s a lot of things that are enjoyable yet should be avoided.”
“Like addictions.”
“Yes. Like addictions.”
“You have so many of them. And so few are able to satisfy them all in one serving like that. You often wind up choosing which to feed and which to starve.” She turned her crow-masked head in a distinctly corvid tilt. “You are not choosing carefully.” She was enjoying making me uncomfortable.
I stared at her. I realized the game and I was tired of it. I lifted the mask, allowing her to see the streaks of tears in the ash on my face. “Everyone is making the choice for me. Including you. Why do I have free will, when I am surrounded by those that would trample it? Information is withheld from me until it is too late and I wind up…” I gestured at my shoulders. “Property.”
“Because you like that.” If it wasn’t for the directive preventing bones being used as weapons, I would have hurled a few dozen skulls towards hers.
“Bitch. I chafe at every leash. You know that, first hand as well.”
She laughed a harsh cackle. “All living things have addictions. What your ‘society’ calls addictions are just those that are more inconvenient than others. You are addicted to food, to breathing, and to sleep. Sex to a lesser extent. Emotional comfort to an even lesser. Physical comfort is really not needed if you are exhausted enough. Everything else is just add-ons to facilitate the primary three addictions of food, breathing, and sleep. Are you going to tell me you don’t chase after all three? Hold your breath and tell me after you expire.”
“What do you want, other than to make me fucking uncomfortable with my own skin, and to pour poison down an already chafed throat.?”
She stood up and regarded me silently. When she spoke, it was with uncharacteristic straightforwardness. “Some of your addictions come with living. But some of your addictions are learned. That you are trying to master yourself so your addictions don’t master you is good. But don’t trade one addiction for another, lest you have twice as many to deal with than before. You want to know why you are so easily used? Because your addictions control you far better than leash, collar, or threats.”
She left without further taunts. Many of the ravens left with her. The pain in my shoulders made moving almost unbearable. I forced myself to leave the mound, but could not progress more than a few steps on the compacted ash. I fell and found myself unwilling to rise. I cried, but in silence, lest anyone else hear me and add to my misery.
The ravens watched from the peaks of the surrounding mounds, with silent intensity.