My back itched. The first sign that Esse was using the doll to call me. My mouth was filled with the taste of hot iron. He was pulling me quite hard. I closed my hand and the black iron axe became a black iron war-glaive that fit perfectly in my grip. I began to involuntarily chuckle.
My animal companion tilted its head as it recognized something was Not Quite Right with me. It wasn’t the Flaming Skeletal Pitbull ghost that I had placed to final rest, and it wasn’t some ancient mythic creature making itself small to accompany me. It was an apex predator of its realm and one I should by all rights be fleeing terrified from.
Instead, this otherworldly feral… thing… changed form to a stout bulldog and placed a paw on my leg. It had adopted me as friend a long time ago, and I had finally given it a piece of me so it could accompany me on my adventures. We had marked each other in trust. And right now, it was displaying concern.
I couldn’t speak. Esse’s pull was silencing me. Once the chuckle fades, if I’m still bucking him, next will come the unreasonable aggression towards anyone, or anything, showing concern. I looked at the pied dog and realized I had to choose between willful surrender to Esse, or the possibility of attacking my companion.
My rage at this dilemma placed me more under Esse’s control, but not entirely so. I still had a choice of where to direct my lashing out. I will not assault my companion, and by doing so, break the trust between us. And I will not willfully surrender to Esse, either. Esse said he was keeping the doll to prevent me from attacking him, a means of protecting himself from me and my berserker rage.
But what is protecting the doll?
For him to pull on me this hard means he has to have it in hand this instant.
The bulldog sat down patiently at my feet. Its body language spoke of being alert, but no longer being concerned.
I refused the summons. I tried to laugh at the bulldog, but only a series of low grunts emerged. The bulldog responded by barking brightly and wagging its tail vigorously in a sign of play. Esse pulled harder, stoking my rage even more.
I waited until the rage nearly blinded me. With a shout I raised the war-glaive and rushed forward as I brought it down. In mid-movement, I blinked to Esse’s presence with the head of the weapon in mid-strike.
The blade moved between hand and doll, knocking it away from him and scraping the palm of his leather glove. Still more in berserker rage than willful action, I remain focused on my target and recovered the doll in mid-fall during the microsecond of surprise that stunned him.
At once, my head was clear. In my tight grip was the current evolution of the doll that Esse had tricked me into giving him so many years ago. It looked like a miniature jointed version of myself, complete with a clouded eye and a strangely textured right arm.
“Give it back.” His voice was not loud as one would expect from a commander. But it was deep and rattled my bones just the same. “You are not ready to take responsibility for yourself, yet.” He held his stung hand open with expectation of receiving the doll.
“Fuck you, bitch.” I tightened my grip on the doll until the joints were pressing into my palm.
“That you have succeeded in touching it is commendable. Evidence of how far you have advanced since I first saw you mewling on Loki’s leash. But you have not control over yourself, nor are you aware of the danger you are to yourself. Return it, for your own safety.”
The marks on my left arm brightened suddenly. The pitbull was searching for me. The mutual marks of trust meant that without Esse smothering my awareness with the doll, the apex predator could sense when I was in trouble and use the marks to arrive quickly to my side. Esse coldly read the marks and furrowed his brow.
“I’m a fucking adult, Esse. Even the one entity that persists in calling me a girl acknowledges that. I am not the broken spirit that Loki toyed with. I am not trembling at the sight of what I am or what I can do, anymore. My hands are ever darkened, and it is by my will they have become so. I may be a danger to myself, but you are not the benevolent dictator you would have me think you are. I know not your game, nor all the deeds you have had me complete as your Hound. I know I am your Hound, no longer, and as of this moment, I am free of you and your obligations pressed upon me.”
I was tempted to put the doll in the satchel, but that meant releasing my grip before closing the bag, and Esse is quicker than I will ever be. I will never be able to repeat that moment of surprise again, and I am sure it is only the promise of retribution by the apex predator as shown by the glowing marks that is keeping Esse’s hand (and Hands) off of me. The longer I remain here for grandiose speeches, the faster I lose any advantage, real or imagined. I did not speak any farewells, threats, or gloats. I did not make any gestures, kind or otherwise. I merely willed to leave, and in doing so, I left.
Back at my lair, the apex predator was still in the form of a pitbull. It leaped and ran in happy circles at my successful “hunt”. It greedily took in the scents upon the doll before confirming that I was still me by smelling me all over and under. I wished Snake could be witness to my triumph over his nemesis.
Celebration aside, I had no idea what to do with it. The doll was originally made as a trojan gift from the Little Ones, who feared what I could do to them and sought to nullify my power if necessary. Once I proved myself trustworthy to them, they gave me the doll as evidence of their trust. Within days, Esse had tricked me into giving it to him, “for safekeeping”.
I suppose I could put the doll with the rest of my treasures in secure vaults. But would Esse try to retrieve it? A master warmonger would never have anything to fear from my assault. For all I have learned of the art of beating the shit out of something, he could still defeat me by a flick of his pinky. What did he lose when the doll left his hands? He lost control over what Weaver could do. Esse’s Hound was an asset to him and Esse doesn’t tolerate the loss of any asset willingly.
The doll will never be safe in any realm he can reach.
Time to find one he can’t.
I asked the apex predator to accompany me to [a certain location]. A place Esse could not invade, not personally nor by proxy, even if he were to try, the consequences would not be worth anything he could gain. Sadly, the entity I was hoping to obtain an audience with was not present, though the place itself was not indifferent to my concern. The air around me thickened as if the place was squeezing in on itself, and by doing so, squeezing me. It forced me to turn my attention inward, to the [other fire] that had taken up residence within my body. Weaver’s heartflame was assimilated by [the other fire] and I was granted the perspective of Those Before.
The doll had to be destroyed, and by a method from which there is no recovery.
The place relaxed and shifted around me. I found myself at an empty crucible. I understood. Placing the doll within the heat tinted container, I was worried that damage to the doll would be reflected as damage to myself. I had to remind myself that the doll is not me, only a representation of me. And for all the times that Weaver slept in the pyres of the Boneyard, what is another flame on my ass?
I took a deep breath and blew unnatural flames into the crucible. The doll resisted for a moment, then the clothes caught. Once it began to burn, it flared quickly and was soon a handful of ashes.
I took the crucible and asked the place what to do with the ashes. A door opened behind me and I heard the sound of moving water. A short spiralling descent later, I found myself at a bank of an underground river. I started to pour out the ashes into the water but [the other fire] within asserted itself and I found myself mixing water in the crucible with the ashes instead.
If I make anything with this mud, I’ll risk making another doll to influence me with. So following the lead, I added more water to make a thin slurry and quickly drank it before I could talk myself out of it. Two more crucibles of water later, and all the ash had been consumed.
I returned to the entry point of that place and was reunited with the pitbull. It had been waiting patiently for me. I thanked the place for its help, and left a note for the entity that resides here to let it know I had been here.
As we began the journey back to my lair, I questioned if Esse would interact with me again after the ultimate rejection of his authority. I reasoned that if his friendship was built on how well he could control me, then I was better off being his enemy forever than his slave for any length of time. I have removed another leash from my neck, and taken on another responsibility for myself.
My berserker mode is Weaver’s Hound, now. Let’s see how long I will remain so.