Silently I suffer from the telltale headache following the excessive magic abuse. Hot needles burn through my skull and sear my eyes. My chest feels bruised still. I woke to wobbling movement and my tail dragging over the stone floor. As if I were floating on a magic rug the ceiling passes by my eyes.
In the distance I hear the screeching grunts of Gharava as he has an intelligible dialogue with an unknown third party. Who he speaks with does not interest me much. I sit up to see my new friend. Alone. Waving his arms. Talking animatedly. Alone.
As I contemplate exactly how crazy my new companion must be, I notice a wetness under me, on my butt, on my hands. It is strange that I’m moving without walking. My throat clenches at the taste of reflux when I see the dried blood and bits and pieces on my hands, and after I look down, I realize a horde of small rat corpses carries me, crawling soundlessly with purple flames burning in their eyes. My whole fur must be drenched in rat feces and gore. The silver lining here must be that I don’t have any noticeable scorch marks from the magical fires.
Gharava notices me getting up.
‘You wake! So good! Must hunger, take rat corpse, very taste.’ He says as I empty out my stomach over the grey stone floors. ‘Not lose water. Dry out.’
---
To give me some time to rest we sit by a wall. Gharava asks me to make a bowl with my magic, very thin with a compartment underneath. Not being in the mood to argue about anything I comply and after some frustrating minutes filled with yelling and insults, I manage to get the right shape and size, a large bowl raised up by a hollow compartment.
To my horror all the dead rats are swept away by some invisible force. Levitating above the impromptu bowl the small body start to press together, crushing the bones, ripping the flesh. By force he wrings out every dead rat in our company, leaving the bowl filled to the brim with blood and gore.
‘So no eat dead rat. Is okay. Very tasty I think, but you princess. Is okay. I have trick. I learn from water mage.’ He starts to explain, his attention on the goulash of life. Holding his hands, one flesh, one bone, above the bowl, slowly the blood starts to shake and lift, congealing in the air. Then he grunts, cramping up his arms to his chest, violently twisting the brown clot, wringing out a clear liquid into the bowl. He laughs. ‘Take blood. Wring out. Now next trick.’ He says as he flings the red brown blob splashing onto a wall and he produces a big purple fire above his palm letting it float into the empty compartment bellow. He smiles triumphantly, nods and enthusiastically throws a bunch of dried-up rats in the fire.
I crawl back at the horrible smell coming from the black smoke emanating from the rat fueled purple fire as I cough through my broken ribs.
‘You pussy to gore!’ I hear from the direction of the fire, followed by shrieking laughter.
---
A few moments later I come back to an extinguished fire and properly boiled water.
‘You are very convenient when you aren’t doing anything insane.’
‘Speaks for self.’
With newfound ease I produce two stone cups and we enjoy a water.
‘It surprises me you know to boil this water before you drink it.’
‘Yes, takes away good taste, but live longer. Good trade.’ He bites into a dead roasted rat which I try not to pay attention to. ‘I learn about body. Hurting and Healing. Travel long time. Before, I leader of tribe. One tribe. Two tribe. Three tribe. All dead. I very old. When travel here I lead clan, Ira stab back. Take when sleep. Throw away to rot for many days. But not rot, ghegheghe, wait, ripen.’
Slowly I sip my warm water, appreciating the peace of a semi normal conversation between two strangers.
‘O wow, where did you travel to?’
‘Many place. I see lizard castle. Is good story. I sneak in. Nobody see. Then I steal cheese. Kill many guards. Best day. Stupid lizards. After, I go to the fourth place. Favorite place. Many plants, soft ground. Very dangerous. I see rat big as castle. We live there. Then lizard come. Many lizard. They hunt us, kill us, probably want cheese back, so we go. Now we here, fifth place. Very boring but is okay. Many old town. Come to talk, you talk very good old talk.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You talk old talk. Word of old. Rats talk growl talk. You talk old talk, capiche?’
‘Uhm, like the language I use?’
‘Yes! Lahn ghuach, very old lahn ghuach. See? Talk word I never talk before. You sound good from mouth. But bit bad grammatical understanding.’
A little bit taken aback I take another sip. It seems this little rat is an interesting find.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
‘So, is it weird that I speak like this?’
‘Very weird! Only mage speak in old lahn ghuach. Spell no work in growl talk. Must be old talk.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! When learn, cut tongue many times.’
‘So, it’s quite special. Well, that’s not so surprising. I am Anite after all, hahahaha.’
‘No do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Have catchphrase with name. Is stupid. Don’t do.’
‘Ah, uhm, oke.’
‘But grey rat special. Is true. Have blessing. Very powerful.’
‘You know, that is the second time I’ve heard that mentioned recently. What does that mean, blessing?’
‘Blessing is power. Connection to God. Very special.’
‘Really? Which one? I only know a few, Ragon, Gloria and Ashe. Oh, and the mud king of course. All the other ones are a bit foggy in my mind.’
‘I not know.’
‘Oh.’
‘But can find out! I strong mage. In prison, I tell I help with dream. When help with dream, also help with blessing. You lay back to wall.’
‘Like this?’
‘No more like this.’
‘Owww!!’
‘Now is good. I bring you sleep with purple flame of death. I burn eyes. I burn mind. I burn soul.’
---
Spring rain drips from dark green leaves as I run in the meadows, cutting through new growth, dodging thick trees. This is where I belong, with my bare feet flattening the grass, breaking sticks, and feeling the earth on my toes. In the sky towers a glittery rainbow, a product of the low sun hitting the last bit of rain falling from the sky.
Here I feel free, and I smile as the thick forest moves around my vision, feeling the cracks and whips of branches and tall grass brushing by my skin like childlike innocence.
It is here, in my green oasis, my refuge, that I meet her for the first time.
She brings me to a halt.
On a thick tree, a bloodied deer hangs by branches, thick wooden spikes protruding from its torso. Its neck cracked several ways, turning its antlers down to the earth. Its stomach exposing a cacophony of red and brown as insides continue to fall and pile up at the roots of the tree.
The heap of gore twitches and shakes as several little green men grasp and claw the insides into their mouths with disgusting grunts of hunger and pleasure. They see me and turn around. Their faces drip with blood as their startled red eyes wrinkle up, they reveal a toothy mockery of a smile and I see the shimmer of steel in the morning light.
This is where I meet her first.
---
I’m back in the basement of the orphanage under the low wooden ceiling with the other children. How I got here I don’t know. My hands are red, nobody looks at me. The father enters from a latch through the floor of the church, and his eyes widen when he sees me. He is a sluggish man with a black robe that fits tight around his big gut. He smells very strongly in a way that burns your nostrils. He flares up as he sees me, throws a bottle against a wall, and grabs me by the arms aggressively to drag me up.
He puts me in front of the sacred eyes of Gloria. To be seen for what I am. There he slaps me hard and rips of my shirt. He takes off the leather belt that tailors his robes around his waist to hit my back repeatedly. I feel the wetness of his spit as he shouts furiously.
‘Do you think this is godly? Do you think this is Gloria’s way? You are a disgrace! I help you when no one wants you, and you continue to be disgusting filth! I threw my whole life away for you kids! It is your faults the church doesn’t want me anymore because you. Are never. Enough!’
The father often spoke of this. We were worthless. Nobody wanted us. We were lucky to be alive. When we’d grow up, we’d become soldiers for the kingdom. We’d bring glory to the land and the father would get what he was owed.
But I am ashamed. The other kids can hear every word. This I knew firsthand. The belt wetly slaps into me and cracks as it cuts into me and delivers pain. Tears run down my face. I know not to make a sound. Father would hit me harder. I look at my red covered hands with blurry vision. Am I drenched in blood?
I force myself to smile.
A little part of me dies.
I whisper that I’m the best.
I think I meet her here as well.
---
Red rain sprays under the moonlight as I run through people and bloody mud. Drenched by violence, the mud grips at my feet as if it doesn’t want me to go on. The cracking of bones and the impact of steel on steel resounds through me like a hollow bell and as an orchestra I whirl through distant foes, steal more steel from fallen friends and run through more people.
I used to love the rain.
Now, I am the rain.
My safe space is on the battlefield. This is where I belong, under the full moon. My whole life has led up to it. Here no one can hurt me. Here everyone knows I am the best. If only for a short time. I am recognized for who I am. Just a second.
I know now that I deliver death, a gift no one can refuse. I see the distorted grimace, the gleeful red eyes of the small green people everywhere. They shine in everyone I meet.
They all die.
So many corpses lie scattered around, piled up so high I can’t even feel the mud anymore. Below me especially, a hill towers, showing me the full scope of death on the battlefield. I’ve seen nothing like it. The smell turns me inside out, but I don’t puke, because I have nothing left.
It is done, so I sit down. From where I sit, I can see some souls walking around aimlessly. Exactly how many people are still alive I don’t know because the corpses stretch to far away for me to tell. Anyway, it is nighttime by now, and I never was good at counting. A serenity comes over me. It is done. I have done my part for the kingdom. I have killed thousands. Relentlessly. Tirelessly. They will honor me for decades. Will I care now that they’ll care about me? Have I made them proud? Have I done this for them?
‘You have done this for me.’ A voice speaks. At first, I think it comes from under me so jump a meter in the sky, but then I see the woman, standing with me on the mount of dead bodies. The most beautiful woman I have seen stands in front of me, eyes closed, a thin white robe that glows in the moonlight. Her lips curl into a smile and gentle tears fall down her cheek.
‘You have done it all for me. Within your soul, I can see it. So much death here, I had to come, to be present. I have not seen such a pure sight in a long time. It is unprecedented and you’re here, at the center of it all, on top of it all. I see within you that you love me, truly love me, more than anyone in existence.’
The woman swirls around in a dance of pleasure, and I can feel the whole world moving with her, collecting into her. My heart sinks with dread and I love it. The moon seems to only hit us two, like she takes it for her own. She looks happy. I cry for her grace.
‘I’ve watched you for some time. You radiate to me. You pulsate with me. You fill me up so deep. It moves me. I’ll make sure you never run dry.’
She walks to me and pushes me on the ground to mount me. In my ear she whispers.
‘You are mine forever.’
---
I wake up.
I am back in the tunnel. The world looks dull, grey and empty. Gharava knows, I can tell, and with devotion he whispers ‘Ashe’s blessing.’ He looks to me with radiant fire in his eyes as I realize who I am.
I am Anite. Former orphan. Knight of the realm. Hero to all. Lover of Death.