Chapter Twenty-two
A/N:
Spoiler
So....It's been quite a long while, sorry about that. This chapter includes some more back-ground and because of this it's a little longer than my normal chapters (but since I keep going over my normal chapter lengths, I suppose that doesn't mean much any more :L). What happened last with Kieran: He and Aliessye were attacked by some harpies. They went into the catacombs to escape them and Kieran got separated from Aliessye. He then came across a talking harpy, but it was killed before it could say very much. This chapter picks up from there.
Kieran raised his eyes to the shadow standing over the dead harpy. It wasn’t one he recognised—there was something off, something different about the silhouette. The broad, powerful shoulders indicated that the attacker was a man, but their slumped stature suggested that this guy was hurt somehow. He didn’t know if he should trust this person or expect them to come after him next.
“Why did you do that?” Kieran asked shakily. Once the initial shock began to wear off, he felt rage begin to take its place. “That harpy—it was talking. It was telling me things. It was-” It was going to tell me about the master.
“All harpies must be killed on sight.”
Kieran’s mouth fell open. He recognised the voice, but it was all wrong: it didn’t match the black shadow it was coming from. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about this guy that made him unrecognisable.
Kieran lifted the torch away from the harpy’s corpse and held it closer to the stranger. Rhogan’s tattooed face came into view, and Kieran understood why he looked so different. His once long and flowing hair had been shaved from his head.
“W-what happened?” Kieran stammered.
“The harpies have invaded. One followed you down into the catacombs-”
“No, I meant your hair.”
Rhogan’s jaw slumped and he looked as surprised as if Kieran had just lunged forwards and punched him between the eyes. “W-what? You-you’re asking after…”
“It suits you,” Kieran started to say, not quite sure why he was still talking about the lack of Rhogan’s hair when there was a dead harpy at his feet and apparently a secret or two to do with the master and this place. “Makes you look…”—he struggled for a way to say ‘less like a little girl’ without making Rhogan want to hit him—“…tougher.”
Rhogan stared blankly at Kieran. The blood pooling from the harpy’s body reached Kieran’s bare feet.
“He does not know of our traditions.” Kieran jumped as the cool, clear voice rang out, breaking the silence that had settled over them. He turned and saw Aliessye moving down the tunnel toward them. The flaming torch she held was only half an arm’s length from her face. With her careful, slow steps and the black shadows showing each wrinkle sharply, she was starting to look her age.
“Lady Aliessye,” Rhogan gasped, ducking his head in a hasty bow. “You should not be here but in the safe room.”
“I saw Kieran was no longer with me.”
Took you a while, Kieran wanted to grumble, but he kept his mouth shut. If he’d have kept up with her he’d never have discovered that not only did the harpies talk, but they knew secrets.
“Kieran?” Rhogan said. Kieran realised that he only knew him as ‘stranger’.
“Hey.” He gave a quick wave, wondering if they really should be exchanging ‘how do you do’s while the harpy’s warm blood lapped at his toes.
“We must go,” Aliessye said. “It will not be long before the water covers the city and Kieran will hear Jerhal’s voice. We must get to the safe room and block it out before it strikes madness in him.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Kieran murmured. “I already think I’m halfway to the nut house as it is.”
Rhogan bent over the harpy and began to drag it to the side of the tunnel, out of the way of anyone who might want to get past. As he moved it, more blood spilt from the hole in its belly and to the sandy floor.
“I heard it talk,” Kieran said suddenly. In the corner of his eye, he saw Aliessye freeze. “It spoke to me and I understood what it was saying.”
“You can make sense of any language,” Aliessye reminded him in a faint voice. “That the harpy would share any words with you is what is more surprising.”
“It saw my tattoo.” Kieran locked his eyes on Aliessye’s widening ones. “It knew about me—about the gang I belonged to back at home. How would it know that?”
Despite the orange light thrown onto her face from the flames, Aliessye looked paler. “Your tattoo—may I see it?”
“Sure.” Kieran handed his torch to Rhogan, who’d been watching the two with narrowed eyes, and began to peel the sleeve of his white robe from his wrist. Soon, the black, curled limbs and torso of the dragon were revealed.
Aliessye dropped her torch and the light went out immediately, the flames doused by the harpy’s blood.
“The Black Dragon,” she hissed.
“That’s what the harpy said!” Kieran stepped eagerly towards her. “You know, don’t you? You know what the harpy was talking about. She knew about the master. She called me part of the Legion. And you know what she means!”
Aliessye began to back away from Kieran, fear showing in her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. “You have the Black Dragon flowing in your veins.”
Kieran still followed her, feeling his chest tighten as panic started to well up inside him. He realised too late that what he said to her was bad. Being part of the Legion and having the tattoo on his wrist was not a good thing on this planet. She wasn’t going to tell him anything, she was too busy trying to keep him from getting too close to her.
“Aliessye—”
“You have the mark of the Legion. You are considered among their ranks!”
“But who—”
“Lady Aliessye,” Rhogan stepped forward. “We must get to the safe room. The stranger,” he paused, “Kieran does not know of the Black Dragon or any of that myth. He may have been tricked into servitude for all we know.”
Kieran glanced back at Rhogan, surprised to have his backing. He still got the feeling Rhogan wasn’t one hundred per cent crazy over him, but here he was, defending Kieran to Aliessye. Completely ignoring him while doing so, but defending him all the same.
“Lady Aliessye, please.” Rhogan pushed past Kieran to carefully place a comforting hand on Aliessye’s shoulder. From his awkwardness, Kieran got the feeling Rhogan wasn’t usually the touchy-feely type.
Aliessye shot one last hard look at Kieran before she allowed Rhogan to guide her in the direction she’d come from before. Kieran frowned, torn between feeling guilty and feeling pissed off. Part of him felt he’d been keeping something huge from Aliessye, something which might have seemed like nothing to him but, to her, completely rocked her world. Another part felt that he’d had no clue a freaking tattoo would be this much of her business, so there was no reason why he should feel guilty. But dwarfing these was the strange feeling of hurt. Hurt that yesterday she’d been so kind to him yet now wouldn’t even look him straight in the eye.
After a pause, he trailed after Rhogan and Aliessye, feeling like the unwanted poltergeist who had nowhere better to go. He needed answers. No matter how much Aliessye clearly didn’t want him around her right now, he needed to know what was so bad. The master, this world, the stones, the messenger god, the tattoo and the harpies...they were all linked somehow. Kieran was linked to them somehow. But…how?
* * *
Kieran sat on an old, dusty bed watching Aliessye pace back and forth and Rhogan fiddle with the sword attached to his belt anxiously. Kieran had expected the ‘safe room’ to be a larger version of one of the tunnels, with the rough, notched rock showing and more skulls placed in the walls. He’d expected soldiers to be standing guard at every entrance, holding huge guns and wearing uniforms more impressive than the glorified bathrobe he and Rhogan were wandering about in. Aliessye should have her own throne, with intricate patterns carved into the gleaming gold.
What he got instead was an old bedroom.
Kieran coughed and glanced around. The walls were smooth and all the colours of the rainbow gleamed on its strange, silvery surface. The bed was like one of those over the top, princess-like affairs you imagined only kings to have. Bits of soft, frail fabric drifted from the beams above the bed in the breeze Aliessye created whenever she walked past. Odd remnants of furniture were dotted about the room. Broken and splintering, they were clearly only good enough for a bonfire, but they were still recognisable. One was a desk, split into two pieces. Another was a chair, with cushions that had the stuffing pulled from it and a leg that looked like someone had tried to saw it in half.
Aliessye heaved a sigh and lifted a hand to rub at her temples. Kieran watched her for a moment, and then went back to examining the room. There was something about it that made him feel sad. He felt as though he’d been invited to someone’s house and while trying to find the bathroom had discovered an empty nursery for a lost baby.
“Will you tell him about the Black Dragon, Lady Aliessye?” Surprisingly it was Rhogan who was first to get fed up with Aliessye’s pacing. Rhogan looked like his nerves were stretching to their breaking point; clearly he felt the same way about this room as Kieran did.
Kieran felt himself leaning forward despite himself, feeling his heart pick up the pace in his chest. Aliessye turned and glanced at him quickly before looking away. She bit her lip and forced herself to turn back to Kieran and take a step closer to him.
“You asked me,” Aliessye said to Kieran roughly, “what the gods had done to make Authority suspicious of them forevermore. Zao, Goddess of the dead, and Jerhal, God of voice, created an army, which they called the Legion, to rebel against Authority. That mark in your skin—that tattoo—is the image of the beast they created to devour Authority. For you to be brandished with it means that the army is not defeated. It means you are part of a plot to destroy Authority.”
* * *
Kieran sat back. “Whoa, okay. What? I...” He tugged the sleeve of his robe back so he could study the tattoo. It looked ordinary enough, not at all like the marker of doom Aliessye seemed to think it was. “Are you being serious?”
“Do you think I jest?” she hissed, turning from him again so she could continue pacing. “By Authority’s law I should have you disembowelled, quartered and beheaded. To not do so would risk the wrath of the gods. Yet you are the first World Jumper to come to Brunelle in one hundred and fifty years. And you…you are not…” She cleared her throat. “You are not…”
“Evil,” interjected Rhogan. “In our time of need, you helped me and my men.”
“You came back for me when the harpies attacked,” Aliessye said.
“Your very presence has given the people of Junella hope and faith. Something our city has long been without.”
Aliessye looked back at Kieran. “But it is not all just about how you have affected us. You told me of one in your world who waits for you. For her sake you cannot be dealt with so harshly.”
“…So, I should be thanking you for not gutting me and slicing me up like some fish destined to be sushi?” Kieran pushed himself to his feet. Suddenly he needed to get some air. The walls of the bedroom seemed to be moving, pressing in on him. “I, ah…”
“No, sit back down.” Aliessye moved over to him and, although she hesitated, pressed her hands against his shoulders and forced him back down. “You have forgotten you are injured and have lost much blood. Sit. Please.”
Kieran let her, but only because her contact stopped his heart from launching itself out of his throat. With her long, soft hair and gentle touch, she reminded him so much of Emily.
That was who she’d been talking about when she’d said someone was waiting for him. There was no one else back home who’d cared if he’d been executed by these people. He had no family, his best friend had been murdered and the gang he’d been with practically all his life wanted him dead. Things weren’t looking great back on Earth.
“What will you do with me?”
Aliessye sighed and bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Will you tell me more about the…Black Dragon?” Kieran asked carefully. “It could just be a coincidence that our gang tattoo is of a dragon. It might have nothing to do with gods and everything.”
“No,” said Aliessye. “That is the mark. You wish to know more of the Black Dragon? How it came about?” She slipped into her slower, story-telling tone of voice. “Jerhal became frustrated with the limitations of his power. He wanted for creatures to take their communication further. He imagined worlds where words did not even have to be spoken and all the lands would be encased in silence. He imagined worlds where the opposite would happen and everything—every blade of grass, every animal’s hair—had the presence of mind and ability to communicate with everything and anything. Authority did not like the idea of such consciousness and supremacy given to all developing life-forms or even those that were not and, would never be, considered a life-form. He forbid Jerhal from developing communication between creatures further.
“Enraged, Jerhal began to question Authority’s motives. He was tyrannous and oppressive, Jerhal concluded, and in the way of progress. So he visited Zao, Goddess of the dead, and sought her help to help deal with Authority. However, he knew she would never go so far as to rise against Authority and destroy him, so he tricked her.”
“How?” Kieran asked when Aliessye paused. She sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. Standing by the wall that they’d entered through, Rhogan began to fiddle with his sword again. Kieran could tell from the way he cocked his head that he was listening, though.
“He asked her to speak with him next to the Light so Authority-”
“The Light?”
Aliessye’s face softened as she gazed into the space in front of her. “It is where Zao guides the dead to. Our thoughts, memories, fears and hopes…that is what makes us conscious, separates us from inanimate objects and low creatures. When we die, we leave behind our bodies and all that was taken from the ground. We are taken to the place of white Light, the place where the gods are said to meet and Zao, the goddess herself, guides us into the Light.”
“What happens after that?” Kieran asked, marvelling at how calm and serene she looked.
“No one knows for sure,” she sighed. “And it’s better that way, don’t you think? For if every little detail about life—and death—was to be known would it not drive you mad waiting for that certainty to come? At least if we do not know we can provide ourselves with some sort of comfort.” Aliessye glanced back at Kieran, looking anxious for him to agree.
Rhogan cleared his throat. “You were telling him of Jerhal’s plan, Lady Aliessye?”
“Ah, yes.” She looked back at Rhogan, who refused to meet any of their gazes. He raised a hand to his shaven head, and Kieran realised they still hadn’t told him why he’d chopped off his brown locks. Aliessye had said something about traditions, and from Rhogan’s look of utter shock, it was clear that asking about someone’s latest haircut violated some sort of unspoken code.
Aliessye began to speak again. “Jerhal was afraid of Authority overhearing his treacherous deceit, so he used the confusion of the Light to hide his discussion with Zao. However, she refused to give him council without the presence of her companions—and servants—the harpies.”
“The-the harpies? As in the same stinking, bird-women who like to tear out throats that we have here?”
Aliessye nodded. “The same. The very same. Those who plague our city here were those who listened to what Jerhal had to say to Zao.” Aliessye continued with the story, “He told her that he was worried that some of the other gods may be planning a rebellion. He also convinced her that they must keep future conversations between themselves for fear of a traitorous god overhearing. Zao was shocked by Jerhal’s accusations and planned to tell Authority right away, but Jerhal was cunning. He had her believe that to do so would be dangerous for all involved and that they must handle this delicately. He proposed creating a creature which would ensure Authority’s safety and at the same time deal with the traitorous gods. They will stop at nothing, Jerhal said to her, to usurp Authority and take from him his power.
“So just like Jerhal knew she would, Zao set to work using her power over death, decay and all rot of the mind to bring together this creature which she believed would save Authority. It did not take long for it to be sculpted—they took inspiration from the form of the snake, known for its cleverness, and from the TarKapol, the ideal predator, and from all the cruelty Zao had seen in the souls of those who’d passed into the Light—but it took years for both Jerhal and Zao to figure out a way to animate the beast. Jerhal took one of Zao’s harpies and tried to take its life-essence from it and place it in the beast. Horrified at the treatment of one of her servants, Zao stopped him, and the harpies have hated Jerhal ever since. So Jerhal did what the messenger god would soon do: he took energy from his own being and gave it to the creature. It worked, and so the Black Dragon came into being.
“Zao removed the beast from the Light and entrusted it to Jerhal. Despite being in charge of its creation, up until then she’d had no idea of its malice and roaring desire to engulf all and increase its strength. Its very presence poisoned her harpies. Once beautiful and loving like Zao herself, they saw the ugliness of life, its loneliness and bitterness, embodied in this creature and they became as you see them now. Distressed, Zao instructed Jerhal to take the creature far away.
“However, she had come to doubt Jerhal’s intentions, so she sent one of her harpies to trail him and see what he would do with the creature. So the harpy saw Jerhal rallying together a developing life-form. Us humans. He planned to infect us all with the creature and use its poisonous hate to bend our minds to his will. He called this proposed army ‘the legion’. How he would destroy Authority was never known, for the harpy went straight back to Zao and told her what she had seen. Although she feared it greatly, Zao knew she must warn Authority of what she and Jerhal had created.” Aliessye paused and bit her lip. “Authority destroyed Zao for all she had done.”
“Destroyed?” Kieran interrupted. “Isn’t that a little harsh of him? She didn’t know what Jerhal was doing. She was tricked.”
“She had created a dangerous enemy. Any lesser punishment would almost be an encouragement for such actions to be repeated.”
“He made an example of her.”
“Yes. He had to. Chaos had suddenly been unleashed on the worlds and all Authority had created. He needed to restore order and cut back the traitorous thoughts of others.”
“What happened to Jerhal?”
“He knew he’d lost the advantage of a surprise attack. He took the Black Dragon back to the light and hid it in there. Jerhal must’ve thought he could hide and come back for the creature. However, Authority found him and imprisoned him here: on this world, in this city’s water. We take his energy to heal our wounded, we use his hate of the harpies to protect ourselves from them and every feature from this world uses his power to communicate with our hidden thoughts and desires. Jerhal’s punishment was slavery and inability to do anything he wanted—the whole reason he chose to rebel against Authority in the first place.”
“So Zao got destroyed and he got put in the water supply?” Kieran said after a pause. “Isn’t that a little unfair on Zao?”
Aliessye smiled to herself and swept a chunk of dark hair behind an ear. “So you see death as the worst punishment,” she mused, half to herself.
Kieran scowled. “Isn’t it?” As Aliessye opened her mouth to reply, Kieran said instead, “Never mind. What happened to the dragon?”
“The Black Dragon,” she corrected. “Since it is only Zao who may enter the Light, Authority was unable to go after it. It may still be there.” Aliessye glanced down at the tattoo on Kieran’s wrist and said with a curled, upper-lip, “Although, with the mark on your arm, I very much doubt that. Part of it is here—inside you. Someone has access to the creature and someone is controlling it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Someone put part of it inside you.”
Self-consciously, Kieran drew his sleeve down to cover his wrist. His mind was spinning from all that he’d heard from her. He couldn’t grasp what his gang in England had to do with gods and god-devouring creatures.
Rhogan spoke for the first time in a long while. “Who was it who gave you that tattoo?” he asked, his dark eyes locked on Kieran.
Kieran felt dread lock its iron grip around his heart. Icy shivers fled down his spine and he swallowed. He knew then just what his gang had to do with all this as surely as he knew who’d given him his gang tattoo.
The master.
