Dryad Eyes #52
2,394 words.
I haven't much to say right now. I'm very tired because I shunned sleep in order to knuckle down and finish this entry. woo...
The carpet beneath his feet was thick with dust, and equally thick, white spider webs wove through the edges of his torchlight. Haron had seen the same scene since turning his feet from the well-worn paths and beginning his journey to this place. His only concern was with not being overheard. After all, consorting with a demon was not something anyone did in a well-lit corridor.
“Erek!” Haron cried.
His voice did not echo. It traveled only as far as the dark, muted silence that lay just beyond the light, and there it died a quiet death. That did not matter. Supposedly, his intent would carry much, much further than the sound of his voice ever could. A demonic being like the one he beckoned would be sensitive to it. He simply had to be patient, and persistent.
“Erek!”
The dancing shadows all around him became even more erratic as the flame of his torch bent as if before a breeze that did not, could not actually exist in that stuffy, musty place. The darkness became heavier, darker, and more tangible, while the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Were he as sensible now as he had been when he was a child, Haron would have bolted and run all the way home to cry to his mother. That, of course, was no longer an option. He was a grown man, a soldier, and so he forced himself to stand still even when a strong hand, with fingers that were tipped with needle-sharp claws, closed on his shoulder.
“Have you ever witnessed patricide, Haron?” Erek’s voice, soft and sibilant, filled Haron’s left ear like a viscous liquid. “I was about to, seven times over. You had better have a good reason for this interruption.”
Deliberately, carefully, with a professionalism that had made him one of the most effective officers Keeper’s Gateway had ever seen, Haron shuffled the revulsion he felt to the back of his mind. Then he allowed himself to relax. He had gained his audience. Mission accomplished. Now, he thought, for the Second Act. “I’m almost ready to move against Alga. I need but one last thing from you before I do.”
“You need something extra from me?” Erek hissed, his voice a little too close, a little too intimate for the other’s liking. “Oh, but I don’t recall that being a part of our arrangement, Haron. The terms were very clear, were they not?”
“You were very specific, yes.” Haron answered agreeably. “But I am still going to ask.”
Silence. That, and a subtle tightening of the clawed grip on his shoulders, were Erek’s only reaction. For far too long a moment, Haron went back and forth in his own mind, at once assuring himself that there was still some hope for success and then lamenting the failure that had yet to happen. Progressively more certain that what came next would involve some sort of violence, be it in the form of hard knuckles or sharp claws or both, Haron squeezed shut his eyes when the demon released its hold on him. For several heartbeats, he stood completely still, hardly daring to breath. Then, finally, he began to feel a bit foolish. Was Erek even still present? Opening his eyes, Haron turned around to face the demon.
He… no, Haron corrected himself… it was present. Nude but for the black lines of power that had been carved into its flesh following its death, Erek gave the soldier a sharp-toothed grin and spread his hands expectantly. “Well, then? Ask away.”
Haron cleared his throat. “Where is Charis?”
“My plaything? She is never far from my side.” With the slightest inclination of his head, the thing called Erek cast its gaze over Haron’s shoulder. Taking the hint, the soldier followed the direction with his own eyes. There she was. In the shadows, just beyond the edge of the light, she sat on the floor with her back to the wall. Her arms were wrapped about her knees and her head, beneath a mop of greasy and limp hair, was bowed. The exposed skin at her arms and legs was filthy. Never had Haron seen her in such a state, and he did not like it.
“I want her,” Haron stated plainly. His eyes never left that huddled form in the shadows. “Give me tonight with her, and I will kill Alga within an hour of sunrise.”
Erek chortled. “That’s rich! Poor, desperate Haron…”
“Do no mock me.”
“Oh, shut up. I’ve already excused you overstepping your bounds once tonight. I’ll not do so again.” Beneath the demon’s apparently unabated mirth, Haron could see the hot flash of anger in its eyes. “You have it bad for her, don’t you? To want her in even in her present state.”
“I have always wanted her,” Haron responded evenly. “I still do. But I know that, in your company, she will soon be too damaged to be of any real value to me. That is why I am asking now. I want one last turn at her before that happens.”
“And to that end, you are holding the culmination of your part in our agreement hostage.”
“Yes.”
Erek’s mirth overtook him at last. This was no chortle. He threw back his head and laughed outright. It was long, loud, and so all intrusive that Haron began to wonder about his chosen location. Would that sound, so loud and boisterous and possessed by a dark and discordant tone that invoked feelings of such intense unease, carry to ears that did not mean to pry? Haron had not expected such volume. It hurt his ears. Not until he was ready to cover his ears and shy away from the source of the overpowering noise did the demon finally gain control of itself.
“Alright,” the demon answered happily. Its chest still convulsed as if laughter were sill trying to violently claw free from its chest. “Honestly, I should just kill you for being so damn cocky, but alright. You can have her. Do… whatever you like. The more depraved the better. I don’t really care, as long as she still lives when you’re done.”
“My thanks.”
Again, Erek found Haron’s words and behavior to be impossibly funny. Its uncontained laughter was no less derisive or intrusive than it had been the first time. Finally, the demon made a dismissive gesture and turned away. The sound of its amusement followed it into the darkness that lay just beyond the light, just beyond Charis, and there it faded away as quickly as did he.
Haron was alone with Charis. He was victorious.
“Come on then,” Haron growled. There was no time to waste, and so he strode forward to grab Charis by the arm and haul her to her feet. She made but one startled exclamation, and then said nothing. She would not even look at him, and who could blame her? Her spirit seemed broken, but there was nothing wrong with her ears. She had heard what he had said to Erek.
Choosing a room was a simple process. He laid eyes on a door, approached it, and tried the handle. The first was locked. The second, but a few steps away, was not. Charis complied easily, without so much as dragging her feet as he guided her inside. She did balk, for the briefest of moments, when Haron pushed her to sit down on the bed. Even that bit of resistance was a relief to him. Leaving her there, sitting still and looking as forlorn as any living creature ever had, he returned to the door.
A quick glance outside told him that the hallway remained empty. Pulling the door shut, Haron retrieved a small piece of charcoal from a small pocket on his person and etched a three-lined design just above the latch. Then, reaching into yet another pocket inside the leather vest he wore over a dark green winter shirt, he retrieved a piece of pale blue crystal. He raised this curious item to his lips and breathed warm air upon it. As if it contained some small flame that could be fanned to life, it warmed with a faint red glow that emanated from deep within it. Satisfied, he returned his attention to Charis.
“Haron the rapist,” she croaked in a small, tired, and thoroughly disgusted voice. There was a brave set to her jaw that he had not dared hope to see. “Even at your worst I thought better of you.”
“I may yet surprise you, Charis.” Kneeling before her, he took her limp and clammy hands in his own. “I swear on the graves of my mother, my people, and my recently departed friend, Thanik, that my words were but a ruse. I will never force myself on you in that manner. No in this, or any lifetime.”
“Then… what?” Disbelief and genuine confusion lived within her gaze as she continued to glare at him.
“An ally of mine is dealing with the demon for the moment. The mark on the door should keep it from realizing that anything is happening in here apart from what it expects.” The nervous glance Haron tossed over his shoulder as he mentioned his little piece of artwork suggested that he was more hopeful than confident in what he was saying. “We haven’t much time. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”
“What are you saying, Haron?” Somewhere, beneath the hurt and darkness that had been heaped upon her, hope began to blossom. He could see it in her eyes, and regretted it immensely. “Are you rescuing me?”
“No.”
“Wh-what?” Her face was wet, then, and she shook her head. “Then what… I don’t understand.”
“Tell me this.” Haron held her gaze with an intensity she had not expected of him. “Was what Erek said true? Did you allow yourself to fall into his clutches in hopes of having an opportunity to strike at him from close range?”
At first, Charis could not reply. The words escaped her. Then, as shamed welled up within her, her face went red and twisted into a wretched, sorry picture of itself. More tears welled within her eyes, and fell more freely than before. “Yes,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know… I couldn’t keep him out. Nothing works. I tried… no thought of Geran, or Fyrendi, or any other thing I ever found strength in. Nothing will do.”
“Gods, Charis. You’ve spent so much time with that… with Geran that you’ve forgotten that you’re not like him. Nobody is.” It was a begrudging admission on Haron’s part. In spite of his personal feelings concerning her lover, their King, even he would describe the man as a walking, talking force of nature. Geran was the sort of man who would move mountains by the sheer force of his will, and that was what had, one way or another, guaranteed him a place in the history books.
“You and I are human, Charis. Sometimes we have to cheat.” Once more his hand dipped into his vest, and returned with a curious item. This one was a small medallion on a delicate chain, gleaming as it reflected the torch light. Its polished surface was marred by a series of scratches that, while certainly different, were not entirely unlike the little symbol Haron had drawn on the door moments ago. “This will give you the opportunity you were looking for--”
“What? Haron, I-I can’t!” Charis stared wild-eyed at the trinket in his hand as if it were a lethal viper and began to stammer. “What… how can you… I can’t do this! What were you thinking?! Erek… he will know. He always knows. You can’t… I can’t… there is no hiding anything from him. He’s probably already here, already--”
SMACK!! As Charis reached her crescendo, working herself into a full-fledged panic, Haron’s big, open hand lashed out and struck her across the face. This was no gentle slap. While nowhere near the size of Geran, Haron was a big man and his hand easily covered half of her face. The impact left her staring at him instead of the talisman he had offered, slowly bringing the fingertips of her left hand up to gently touch her own bruised cheek.
“Listen to me,” Haron growled at her. “You put yourself in this position. As much as I would like to relieve you of this burden, I cannot. If I help you run, I lose what shot I have at taking Erek down. So, you have a choice. You can regrow your damn spine and help me, or I can cut your throat here and now. It may piss him off that I disobeyed his mandate, but I have a better chance of coming back from that than I do should you find yourself unable to keep your mouth shut.”
“But… Haron.” Charis protested. “I wouldn’t… I won’t betray you.”
With a harshness that even he did not quite expect, Haron snapped his response at her. “Do you expect me to believe that? You’ve already betrayed me once, when you chose Dryad bastard over me. And you just finished telling me that you haven’t even the slightest chance of resisting Erek’s influence on your own. If I let you return to him as if nothing at all happened, I’ll be dead within the hour.” Drawing a large, wickedly curved knife from his belt, the soldier laid it across his knee. “We haven’t much time left. What will it be? The talisman or the knife?”
With her eyes downcast, Charis had but one answer for him. “I don’t want to die.”
“And I don’t want to kill you.” Haron answered. “But I will do what I must.”
He waited. Though only moments passed, it seemed to each of them as if long minutes passed while they searched each other’s eyes. Charis was seeing something in him that was unexpected. Steel. Devotion. She had spent so many months vilifying Haron in her mind that she had forgotten that he was one of the heroes of the Battle for Keeper’s Gateway. That stirred something within her. Something powerful. He saw that, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“So,” Charis said as her hand snaked out to snatch the talisman from his steady, waiting hand. “How does it work?”
I haven't much to say right now. I'm very tired because I shunned sleep in order to knuckle down and finish this entry. woo...
The carpet beneath his feet was thick with dust, and equally thick, white spider webs wove through the edges of his torchlight. Haron had seen the same scene since turning his feet from the well-worn paths and beginning his journey to this place. His only concern was with not being overheard. After all, consorting with a demon was not something anyone did in a well-lit corridor.
“Erek!” Haron cried.
His voice did not echo. It traveled only as far as the dark, muted silence that lay just beyond the light, and there it died a quiet death. That did not matter. Supposedly, his intent would carry much, much further than the sound of his voice ever could. A demonic being like the one he beckoned would be sensitive to it. He simply had to be patient, and persistent.
“Erek!”
The dancing shadows all around him became even more erratic as the flame of his torch bent as if before a breeze that did not, could not actually exist in that stuffy, musty place. The darkness became heavier, darker, and more tangible, while the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Were he as sensible now as he had been when he was a child, Haron would have bolted and run all the way home to cry to his mother. That, of course, was no longer an option. He was a grown man, a soldier, and so he forced himself to stand still even when a strong hand, with fingers that were tipped with needle-sharp claws, closed on his shoulder.
“Have you ever witnessed patricide, Haron?” Erek’s voice, soft and sibilant, filled Haron’s left ear like a viscous liquid. “I was about to, seven times over. You had better have a good reason for this interruption.”
Deliberately, carefully, with a professionalism that had made him one of the most effective officers Keeper’s Gateway had ever seen, Haron shuffled the revulsion he felt to the back of his mind. Then he allowed himself to relax. He had gained his audience. Mission accomplished. Now, he thought, for the Second Act. “I’m almost ready to move against Alga. I need but one last thing from you before I do.”
“You need something extra from me?” Erek hissed, his voice a little too close, a little too intimate for the other’s liking. “Oh, but I don’t recall that being a part of our arrangement, Haron. The terms were very clear, were they not?”
“You were very specific, yes.” Haron answered agreeably. “But I am still going to ask.”
Silence. That, and a subtle tightening of the clawed grip on his shoulders, were Erek’s only reaction. For far too long a moment, Haron went back and forth in his own mind, at once assuring himself that there was still some hope for success and then lamenting the failure that had yet to happen. Progressively more certain that what came next would involve some sort of violence, be it in the form of hard knuckles or sharp claws or both, Haron squeezed shut his eyes when the demon released its hold on him. For several heartbeats, he stood completely still, hardly daring to breath. Then, finally, he began to feel a bit foolish. Was Erek even still present? Opening his eyes, Haron turned around to face the demon.
He… no, Haron corrected himself… it was present. Nude but for the black lines of power that had been carved into its flesh following its death, Erek gave the soldier a sharp-toothed grin and spread his hands expectantly. “Well, then? Ask away.”
Haron cleared his throat. “Where is Charis?”
“My plaything? She is never far from my side.” With the slightest inclination of his head, the thing called Erek cast its gaze over Haron’s shoulder. Taking the hint, the soldier followed the direction with his own eyes. There she was. In the shadows, just beyond the edge of the light, she sat on the floor with her back to the wall. Her arms were wrapped about her knees and her head, beneath a mop of greasy and limp hair, was bowed. The exposed skin at her arms and legs was filthy. Never had Haron seen her in such a state, and he did not like it.
“I want her,” Haron stated plainly. His eyes never left that huddled form in the shadows. “Give me tonight with her, and I will kill Alga within an hour of sunrise.”
Erek chortled. “That’s rich! Poor, desperate Haron…”
“Do no mock me.”
“Oh, shut up. I’ve already excused you overstepping your bounds once tonight. I’ll not do so again.” Beneath the demon’s apparently unabated mirth, Haron could see the hot flash of anger in its eyes. “You have it bad for her, don’t you? To want her in even in her present state.”
“I have always wanted her,” Haron responded evenly. “I still do. But I know that, in your company, she will soon be too damaged to be of any real value to me. That is why I am asking now. I want one last turn at her before that happens.”
“And to that end, you are holding the culmination of your part in our agreement hostage.”
“Yes.”
Erek’s mirth overtook him at last. This was no chortle. He threw back his head and laughed outright. It was long, loud, and so all intrusive that Haron began to wonder about his chosen location. Would that sound, so loud and boisterous and possessed by a dark and discordant tone that invoked feelings of such intense unease, carry to ears that did not mean to pry? Haron had not expected such volume. It hurt his ears. Not until he was ready to cover his ears and shy away from the source of the overpowering noise did the demon finally gain control of itself.
“Alright,” the demon answered happily. Its chest still convulsed as if laughter were sill trying to violently claw free from its chest. “Honestly, I should just kill you for being so damn cocky, but alright. You can have her. Do… whatever you like. The more depraved the better. I don’t really care, as long as she still lives when you’re done.”
“My thanks.”
Again, Erek found Haron’s words and behavior to be impossibly funny. Its uncontained laughter was no less derisive or intrusive than it had been the first time. Finally, the demon made a dismissive gesture and turned away. The sound of its amusement followed it into the darkness that lay just beyond the light, just beyond Charis, and there it faded away as quickly as did he.
Haron was alone with Charis. He was victorious.
“Come on then,” Haron growled. There was no time to waste, and so he strode forward to grab Charis by the arm and haul her to her feet. She made but one startled exclamation, and then said nothing. She would not even look at him, and who could blame her? Her spirit seemed broken, but there was nothing wrong with her ears. She had heard what he had said to Erek.
Choosing a room was a simple process. He laid eyes on a door, approached it, and tried the handle. The first was locked. The second, but a few steps away, was not. Charis complied easily, without so much as dragging her feet as he guided her inside. She did balk, for the briefest of moments, when Haron pushed her to sit down on the bed. Even that bit of resistance was a relief to him. Leaving her there, sitting still and looking as forlorn as any living creature ever had, he returned to the door.
A quick glance outside told him that the hallway remained empty. Pulling the door shut, Haron retrieved a small piece of charcoal from a small pocket on his person and etched a three-lined design just above the latch. Then, reaching into yet another pocket inside the leather vest he wore over a dark green winter shirt, he retrieved a piece of pale blue crystal. He raised this curious item to his lips and breathed warm air upon it. As if it contained some small flame that could be fanned to life, it warmed with a faint red glow that emanated from deep within it. Satisfied, he returned his attention to Charis.
“Haron the rapist,” she croaked in a small, tired, and thoroughly disgusted voice. There was a brave set to her jaw that he had not dared hope to see. “Even at your worst I thought better of you.”
“I may yet surprise you, Charis.” Kneeling before her, he took her limp and clammy hands in his own. “I swear on the graves of my mother, my people, and my recently departed friend, Thanik, that my words were but a ruse. I will never force myself on you in that manner. No in this, or any lifetime.”
“Then… what?” Disbelief and genuine confusion lived within her gaze as she continued to glare at him.
“An ally of mine is dealing with the demon for the moment. The mark on the door should keep it from realizing that anything is happening in here apart from what it expects.” The nervous glance Haron tossed over his shoulder as he mentioned his little piece of artwork suggested that he was more hopeful than confident in what he was saying. “We haven’t much time. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”
“What are you saying, Haron?” Somewhere, beneath the hurt and darkness that had been heaped upon her, hope began to blossom. He could see it in her eyes, and regretted it immensely. “Are you rescuing me?”
“No.”
“Wh-what?” Her face was wet, then, and she shook her head. “Then what… I don’t understand.”
“Tell me this.” Haron held her gaze with an intensity she had not expected of him. “Was what Erek said true? Did you allow yourself to fall into his clutches in hopes of having an opportunity to strike at him from close range?”
At first, Charis could not reply. The words escaped her. Then, as shamed welled up within her, her face went red and twisted into a wretched, sorry picture of itself. More tears welled within her eyes, and fell more freely than before. “Yes,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know… I couldn’t keep him out. Nothing works. I tried… no thought of Geran, or Fyrendi, or any other thing I ever found strength in. Nothing will do.”
“Gods, Charis. You’ve spent so much time with that… with Geran that you’ve forgotten that you’re not like him. Nobody is.” It was a begrudging admission on Haron’s part. In spite of his personal feelings concerning her lover, their King, even he would describe the man as a walking, talking force of nature. Geran was the sort of man who would move mountains by the sheer force of his will, and that was what had, one way or another, guaranteed him a place in the history books.
“You and I are human, Charis. Sometimes we have to cheat.” Once more his hand dipped into his vest, and returned with a curious item. This one was a small medallion on a delicate chain, gleaming as it reflected the torch light. Its polished surface was marred by a series of scratches that, while certainly different, were not entirely unlike the little symbol Haron had drawn on the door moments ago. “This will give you the opportunity you were looking for--”
“What? Haron, I-I can’t!” Charis stared wild-eyed at the trinket in his hand as if it were a lethal viper and began to stammer. “What… how can you… I can’t do this! What were you thinking?! Erek… he will know. He always knows. You can’t… I can’t… there is no hiding anything from him. He’s probably already here, already--”
SMACK!! As Charis reached her crescendo, working herself into a full-fledged panic, Haron’s big, open hand lashed out and struck her across the face. This was no gentle slap. While nowhere near the size of Geran, Haron was a big man and his hand easily covered half of her face. The impact left her staring at him instead of the talisman he had offered, slowly bringing the fingertips of her left hand up to gently touch her own bruised cheek.
“Listen to me,” Haron growled at her. “You put yourself in this position. As much as I would like to relieve you of this burden, I cannot. If I help you run, I lose what shot I have at taking Erek down. So, you have a choice. You can regrow your damn spine and help me, or I can cut your throat here and now. It may piss him off that I disobeyed his mandate, but I have a better chance of coming back from that than I do should you find yourself unable to keep your mouth shut.”
“But… Haron.” Charis protested. “I wouldn’t… I won’t betray you.”
With a harshness that even he did not quite expect, Haron snapped his response at her. “Do you expect me to believe that? You’ve already betrayed me once, when you chose Dryad bastard over me. And you just finished telling me that you haven’t even the slightest chance of resisting Erek’s influence on your own. If I let you return to him as if nothing at all happened, I’ll be dead within the hour.” Drawing a large, wickedly curved knife from his belt, the soldier laid it across his knee. “We haven’t much time left. What will it be? The talisman or the knife?”
With her eyes downcast, Charis had but one answer for him. “I don’t want to die.”
“And I don’t want to kill you.” Haron answered. “But I will do what I must.”
He waited. Though only moments passed, it seemed to each of them as if long minutes passed while they searched each other’s eyes. Charis was seeing something in him that was unexpected. Steel. Devotion. She had spent so many months vilifying Haron in her mind that she had forgotten that he was one of the heroes of the Battle for Keeper’s Gateway. That stirred something within her. Something powerful. He saw that, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“So,” Charis said as her hand snaked out to snatch the talisman from his steady, waiting hand. “How does it work?”