My essence steamed and flaked off. With each step, her scream grew louder. She had been screaming for so long, and the twisted forces inside sustained her at a note human voices couldn’t reach. It was a wet finger on a glass, but the finger and the glass and the concept of water were going to break. I pressed through the smoke in the doorway. Where my body pushed the smoke, it stayed. I fanned—scooped—it out of my way.
The smoke had been frozen, but behind it stretched a chaotic tableau: dirty light and smells unknown on any plane exploded from the hearth. There, tendrils twisted and oil belched. Shapes, creatures, burst from the primordial mass. They managed a squawk or mewl before they dissipated into gas or incomprehensible words, making way for new things. It was formless to me, but I narrowed my eyes and saw it as she did: cephalopodic, ancient, unknown and unknowing. Within the roiling force, a great eye stared unblinking into hers. I could only look for a moment before I retreated into my nature. What was that essence doing to her eyes?
I stepped toward her. She knelt in the middle of the room on the threadbare rug. Her body was limp, but she hung as though suspended from the top of her head. Her scream now mingled with the whispers and dark muttering from the hearth. A dripping tentacle snaked out from the hearth. I tried to step between them, but it passed through me.
It slammed me into mortal senses, and I saw nothing there where I knew it was. Just a woman, a girl, hanging impossibly. Two cots, a bench that was seat and table and workspace. Her father—Syed—sat groggy to one side against the wall. He had a book gripped white-knuckled in his hands.
“It’s banished!” he said. I glanced between him and his daughter. Her mouth hung open, but I couldn’t hear her. She stared, but I couldn’t see.
“You did this?” Blood ran off of me in rivulets, though I was almost whole. Syed stared at me. He grimaced defiance. He was irreverent. Mad. Feral.
“We have nothing,” he said. “No, no prospects, no coin. We used to have—so much. And they. I could live without servants, without the court. But they waited until she was old enough to understand. Old enough to miss it every day.”
Syed gestured to his daughter after he rose to his knees. “She never said she did. But I knew. And then you, with your—your coins of leaves and your grace. You promise her what she once had, and so much more. But she stays. For me. For me. They ruined something wonderful, and they don’t know. They will. I have been promised—such great things. Power. Wealth. Those fawning courtiers and—tyrants—will lose everything. Their kingdom. Their minds!” When I turned to assist his daughter, Syed brandished the book at me.
“I summoned it,” he said. “I banished it. It’s never been that strong, before! And—you, invader. I can banish you.” I reeled on him. I pulled his stinking face to mine.
“You’ve done this before? Called out to this?” Syed nodded; triumph gleamed in his eyes. Only his pact with me kept him safe. But there is more than one way to suffer. “You did nothing but hurt something wonderful,” I said.
"She wasn’t supposed to be here! I wasn’t ready, and—she came in, and—but it’s gone! I can control this. I can fix her.” I clenched my fingers in his skin.
“You aren’t even a pawn, because there is no game but losing.” I should have turned him into a beetle long ago. Something that would be crushed under that book before he could ever lift it. Now I scored the flesh under one of his eyebrows with my thumb, hard, leaving an inflamed line. Despite his grunts and struggles, I held him and did likewise to the other. I dropped him to the floor. I burst back into my real senses, and I broke him free of his own.
Now Syed saw as I did; his cry of horror blended with that constant note from his daughter. By now, the creature had seeped out from the hearth and over half the room. It congealed around her like tainted pig fat. It had oozed over her face. Syed heaved himself to his feet. Then, he simply heaved. He turned to run, and he dropped that irksome book when he did. Let him run. Let him rave to his fellows, or run forever and a day. Summer’s grip reached almost as far as his own madness.
The smoke had been frozen, but behind it stretched a chaotic tableau: dirty light and smells unknown on any plane exploded from the hearth. There, tendrils twisted and oil belched. Shapes, creatures, burst from the primordial mass. They managed a squawk or mewl before they dissipated into gas or incomprehensible words, making way for new things. It was formless to me, but I narrowed my eyes and saw it as she did: cephalopodic, ancient, unknown and unknowing. Within the roiling force, a great eye stared unblinking into hers. I could only look for a moment before I retreated into my nature. What was that essence doing to her eyes?
I stepped toward her. She knelt in the middle of the room on the threadbare rug. Her body was limp, but she hung as though suspended from the top of her head. Her scream now mingled with the whispers and dark muttering from the hearth. A dripping tentacle snaked out from the hearth. I tried to step between them, but it passed through me.
It slammed me into mortal senses, and I saw nothing there where I knew it was. Just a woman, a girl, hanging impossibly. Two cots, a bench that was seat and table and workspace. Her father—Syed—sat groggy to one side against the wall. He had a book gripped white-knuckled in his hands.
“It’s banished!” he said. I glanced between him and his daughter. Her mouth hung open, but I couldn’t hear her. She stared, but I couldn’t see.
“You did this?” Blood ran off of me in rivulets, though I was almost whole. Syed stared at me. He grimaced defiance. He was irreverent. Mad. Feral.
“We have nothing,” he said. “No, no prospects, no coin. We used to have—so much. And they. I could live without servants, without the court. But they waited until she was old enough to understand. Old enough to miss it every day.”
Syed gestured to his daughter after he rose to his knees. “She never said she did. But I knew. And then you, with your—your coins of leaves and your grace. You promise her what she once had, and so much more. But she stays. For me. For me. They ruined something wonderful, and they don’t know. They will. I have been promised—such great things. Power. Wealth. Those fawning courtiers and—tyrants—will lose everything. Their kingdom. Their minds!” When I turned to assist his daughter, Syed brandished the book at me.
“I summoned it,” he said. “I banished it. It’s never been that strong, before! And—you, invader. I can banish you.” I reeled on him. I pulled his stinking face to mine.
“You’ve done this before? Called out to this?” Syed nodded; triumph gleamed in his eyes. Only his pact with me kept him safe. But there is more than one way to suffer. “You did nothing but hurt something wonderful,” I said.
"She wasn’t supposed to be here! I wasn’t ready, and—she came in, and—but it’s gone! I can control this. I can fix her.” I clenched my fingers in his skin.
“You aren’t even a pawn, because there is no game but losing.” I should have turned him into a beetle long ago. Something that would be crushed under that book before he could ever lift it. Now I scored the flesh under one of his eyebrows with my thumb, hard, leaving an inflamed line. Despite his grunts and struggles, I held him and did likewise to the other. I dropped him to the floor. I burst back into my real senses, and I broke him free of his own.
Now Syed saw as I did; his cry of horror blended with that constant note from his daughter. By now, the creature had seeped out from the hearth and over half the room. It congealed around her like tainted pig fat. It had oozed over her face. Syed heaved himself to his feet. Then, he simply heaved. He turned to run, and he dropped that irksome book when he did. Let him run. Let him rave to his fellows, or run forever and a day. Summer’s grip reached almost as far as his own madness.
You do an excellent job at describing what should be undescribable. That's impressive.
ReplyDeleteIf I had any complaint, it would be that breaking this into two pieces interrupted the flow a bit. But it might have been too long for the blog otherwise, right? At least it was broken up at the perfect spot if it had to be broken up at all.