Revision, Revision

Ah, the joy of rewriting. Working on some of the earlier chapters in order to clean them up and work through some of my writer's block going forward. If all goes as planned, I'll have the next chapter of Welcome To My Nightmare up by the end of the month.

Must get back to work now.

The Tale of The Exile -- The Third Night: Welcome To My Nightmare (Part 4)

Part 4: One

Trapped.

Trapped in darkness. Five hundred heartbeats spent screaming. A thousand spent clawing at the wall. Two thousand trying to dig at it with the glass shard. The masonry is solid. The mortar is strong. Nothing except a sledgehammer will get me through that.

So I leave it, turn to the other end. At first I'm hopeful. There's a faint, smelly breeze. A tiny hole, in between the heaps of rock. I won't suffocate. But it's cold comfort.

The stones have been wedged too tight. That hole is barely large enough for me to stick a hand through. I have no leverage. If I had...Not helpful. If wishes were lockpicks, all thieves would be be rich. There's no way I'm going to get out of here by myself. I'll be here until I starve.

Naros. I could call on Naros. I'd owe him. I hate the thought, but not more than the thought of my skeleton mouldering away here, unknown for ages.

"Naros! Naros of Miir! I summon you! Please!" Well, there's the call. Now I wait. I count my heartbeats. Sixty. Three hundred. Six hundred. I'm beginning to think he's not going to come. "Naros! By God and The Dragon, Naros, please! I need your help!"

Eight hundred...Twelve hundred...Finally! There's the clink of his silver chain, on the other side of the cave-in. I catch a whiff of rose perfume over the dank sewer air. I scramble up to the hole, peeking through. I can just barely make him out.

"Naros! Please! I'll do whatever you want, just get me out of here!"

There's a liquid chuckle. "Oh, my! Gaven Morren, actually begging me for help. What's the matter, my friend? What can I do for you?"

"Look, I don't care what it costs me, Naros. You win. I'll do whatever you ask, just get me out of this hole!" I grit my teeth.

"No."

It takes a moment to sink in. "What!?"

"You do understand the concept of No, don't you? After all the help I offered, which you rejected? Poor Gaven. You spent so much effort spitting in my face, only to realize now what it was I was protecting you from. Did you really think that a magic maze, a few redcaps, and a band of thugs were the worst the Shadows had to offer? And now you're the victim of forces you cannot understand and cannot fight, bereft of the protection that spared you before. MY protection. My protection, which was freely offered for such a minor favor, the barest hint of compensation for the incredible risk I took on your behalf. How little you valued it! How often you scorned it! And now, right when you need it most, you are without it. Look where it's gotten you."

"Are you done gloating yet?" I say. I try to keep from growling. "You're right, I was wrong. Can we put that behind us and get me out now?"

"I'm sorry, Gaven. Even if I were inclined to do so, I am forbidden from interfering in this. You are in the hands of other Shadows now."

"You FUCK! You spineless git of a three-legged goat! You pox-ridden spawn of a jackal! You bastard sack of dragondung! You can't do this!"

"Goodbye, Gaven. You were an entertaining Exile, but you're finished. And better men than you have 'disappeared' in such a fashion. Perhaps the Saints can help you, but I strongly doubt it. It would be a waste of your time to try. Good luck to you." He walks away.

"No!"

He's gone. Dragon take it all. I curl into a corner and cry.

Time passes. Can't tell how much. There aren't any more tears. Just clarity. I take stock of what I have with me. One shard of jagged glass. Two fireglass gems shaped like eyes. Torn and dirty clothes. My cap. Rocks. No food. No water. No hope. I look over the jagged shard, and wonder if I really have the strength to end it before I die of starvation.

And what else is there? There's no way out of this. You will need to make this decision sooner or later. Wouldn't it be better this way?

I stiffen. I hadn't noticed the fireglass dimming this time, but that voice in my mind was not my own. "You again. Come to gloat?"

I'm here to claim what's mine. What should have been mine when first we met. But this isn't about me. I have what I want. You will die here. We both know this. I can wait. It doesn't matter to me how slowly or quickly I take you, just that you're mine now. So the question then becomes how long do you think you can hold out, until you do what you know you must? You've seen what slow starvation does. The agony of that sort of death, as your own body begins to eat itself and you slowly fall apart. Will you try to face that end out of some misplaced sense of nobility or craven cowardice? Or will you end your troubles now, while your limbs still have the strength?

I twiddle the glass shard in my fingers as I contemplate the shadow's words. Is there really no other way out of this? No hope at all? I study the face in the reflection. There are parts that are familiar, recognizable. But when I try to put the face together, my mind rebels. Is that really my mouth, twisted and bitter? Were my cheeks so gaunt and hollow before? Can I claim that lost, maddened stare as my own?

And why is there a light behind the face in the glass?

I feel a wall against my back, but in the mirror there's a tunnel behind me. No bricks, just an empty pool coated with a layer of ash. My heart leaps. For a moment, there is hope, but which is real? Which is the illusion? I haven't been able to trust my senses all night. This could be another of this thing's tricks, some sort of ruse to get another cruel laugh out of me.

I've been trying to will myself back through this wall for hours, but perhaps it was never there. Maybe it's like that maze from before. The last time that magic maze trapped me, it drove me right into this shadow. Who tried to trap me by making the cobblestones soft like mud.

If I can trick it into doing that again...

I scoop up the fireglass gems, pocketing one and holding the other up. "You want me, shadow? Fine. But I'm not doing your dirty work for you. If you want me, then you'd best come at me. Take me, if you can. But it won't be without a fight."

I hurl the fireglass gem through the opening in the far wall. It skitters out of sight. Darkness falls.

You would fight me? How? I have no form for you to injure, no life for you to end. I am everywhere. You cannot hinder me.

"Then it will be a quick battle for you, won't it? What's the matter? Don't you think you can take me?" I stab wildly at the dark. Come on...

But I don't have to. You aren't going anywhere. And you will provide me nourishment for many nights without me having to do a single thing.

"Or until the Hangman comes for me. Then you have to share your feast with him, don't you? How much nourishment will you lose then?" I have no clue what I'm talking about. I don't know what the Hangman has to do with anything, aside from being another problem for me, but to gamble you gotta roll the dice.

You FOOL! You would call him here? You would summon him to yourself and your doom?

The dice roll sevens...um, great? It occurs to me I might have just summoned that silent figure, got it slouching roughly towards me...

"Well then, you had better take me while you can before he gets here, or he'll have me all to himself."

Agreed. The floor beneath my feet suddenly softens, turns to soup...I lunge for the wall. I sink through..it's like swimming through clay. Then it begins to harden around me. Oh, fuck. I slide through the stone, pushing myself through...my boot sticks. I wiggle...the foot slips out...

And suddenly I find myself in the bottom of an empty pool, my flailing arms forming wings in the bed of ash beneath me. Free! Free! Free!

I sit up and laugh hysterically for a few minutes. Flecks of ash from the volcano rain down like snow. There's a solid wall behind me. Life is so beautiful right now.

The Tale of The Exile -- The Third Night: Welcome To My Nightmare (Part 3)

Part 3: Smoke On The Water

Aelia kneels next to me, cradles me like a child. "All is well, Gaven." She coos softly. "The demon is gone. You are safe. Be still, be calm.” I don't enjoy being mothered like this, but I can't get up the energy to protest. I just curl up with the candlestick and let the tears flow. Eventually, I find my feet. I look at the candlestick. Something nags at my brain.

"Why do I have this?"

Aelia blinks. "You needed something. To fight the demon in the wall. Do you not remember?"

"No, I know that. But why a candlestick? I mean, all the light's I've seen come from the fireglass in the walls. No torches, no braziers...not even a chimney. Why is this here?"

Aelia looks down at the ground. "You needed something to fight the demon you saw. It was the first thing that came to mind to give you."

There's an unpleasant series of goosebumps crawling up my back. "What are you saying?"

"It isn't real. There is no candlestick. See?"

I look at my hand. I'm making a fist, but there's nothing inside it. What in the Boiling Belly? "It was here. I know it was here. I felt it."

"You were seeing something that was not there. You wanted a weapon, so I suggested one, and your mind provided it."

I look around frantically. no no no no. This isn't possible. "The crack! In the wall!" I jab a finger at it. "That's there! That's real!"

Aelia nods. "It was put there by the earthquake. Do you remember the earthquake? When you believed your cell was falling in on you?"

This is insane. This is nuts. That...that can't be right, can it? I didn't dream up that despair monster, did I? Aelia clasps my fist.

"Dreamers are dangerous. They see things that make them act. It is better to give unreal weapons to them to fight their unreal monsters than risk real damage to real people.”

I stare at her. "Do you do this a lot?"

"I...have had the occasion."

"I don't think I like you in my head."

“Believe me, sir, I would prefer not to dwell there forever either. It is a frightening and depressing place. Perhaps you should let me leave.”

I almost say yes. I reconsider. "No. No, I think I should keep you around a bit longer. To keep me from causing real harm to real people."

"As you wish."

I head over to the broken mirror and examine the shards. The person in them is vaguely familiar. He looks a lot like someone I used to know. I pick up a few of the larger, more jagged ones, careful not to cut my hand.

"What are you doing?" Aelia asks.

"Arming myself." I walk to the cracked face in the wall. It IS a face. I wasn't imagining that. A fireglass mosaic, cracked and leering. I take a shard, dig out a few gems. I start with the eyes.

"I am not comfortable with you armed." Aelia says. "You may injure someone."

"Ha! Rather the point. Yes, I think I WILL injure someone."

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"I don't bloody KNOW, alright? Might look for Jereth." I hold up the shard, make a cutting motion.

"If I may suggest? That is a very poor idea, Gaven. A very poor one. You would be killed."

"Got a better one?"

She chews her lip, then nods. "Jereth heads the Physician's guild, but he does not rule the House. Tell your complaint to the Lady of the House. Speak with his mother."

I look at her. "Guh? Geh ha. ha ha ha! You want me to tattle on him to his mom? AHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's brilliant! Get him sent to his room!"

"Jereth will listen to Lady Sylvia, as all men should listen to women. That you do not is a fault of your race. Trust me. He will listen."

I'm still laughing. It may be the drugs, but it actually sounds like a plan. And funny. Oh, so funny. "Let's do it! Take me to his mommy!"

"So tell me about this Lady Sylvia." I say as we walk.

Aelia's the one leading right now. "What is there to say? She is our Godmother."

"An elvish Godmother, eh?" I start, but Aelia gives me a glare that tells me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't finish that quip. EVER.

"Heh, I thought you meant his real mother - funny, 'cos I'd swear he said she was his sister..."

Aelia makes a slight gesture with her slim hand, like a shrug. "She is. But she also gave Jereth life."

My stunned silence has her glancing at me. She chooses her words carefully. "There are few elves in Miir, and we are all one family." Ick. I'm trying very hard not to think about the implications of that. Aelia opens a door, frowns, and mutters, "This door does not lead here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. This door leads to the inner chambers, not the garden."

I look out the door. "It probably shouldn't be snowing, either."

The gardens stretch before us, oblivious to the impossible flakes of snow drifting down on them. It's not even cold. I stick my injured hand out. One of the flakes lands. I rub it around, and it leaves a dark stain. Not snow. Ash.

"Well that's alarming." I say with an odd calm. "Are you seeing this?"

"I'm afraid I must say yes. It is very strange."

"You got that right.”

I step outside. Aelia grabs my arm. "This is unwise!" she insists, but I shake her off and look around. Can't see anything...wait. There. To the west, one of the mountains glows. It's quite a distance away, but I can see trails of flame oozing down the side of the peak. A volcanic eruption. No wonder the ground shook.

Aelia stands next to me, staring at the glow of the volcano. "It is strangely beautiful. Like dawn in the wrong place."

"Are we in danger?"

Again, she makes that hand-shrug. "I cannot say. The eruption is not large. I think it is too far away to do more than rain ash and make the earth shake."

"How often does it blow?"

"About once every twenty or thirty years. The humans call it Mount Morrine and say a dragon lives at its heart."

I'm reminded of the fire in Miir's Belly, so like the descriptions of The Dragon's Belly the priests told us all bad people went after death. Now the Dragon roars...No. Stop it. Miir is bad, but it's not The Dragon's Belly, and I haven't been swallowed yet.

"Where now?" I ask.

She hand-shrugs again. "Across the courtyard. That door there should take us near The Lady's chambers. Assuming, of course, that the door leads where it is supposed to. That fact, I think, is in doubt at this moment."

We wind through the gardens. I see an empty, shallow pool, the bottom dusted with ash. I wonder why it's dry. All the plants are green. Perhaps the House's fortunes aren't so good that they can afford both pool and healthy greenery in Miir's climate. I point it out to Aelia.

"Oh.” she mutters. “It used to lead to the Belly. Then the Gorgeous Gang used it, and fled with many treasures. It was closed to keep other thieves out. "

I marvel at the fire-breathing mountain for a while. If it causes enough chaos, I might be able to use it to escape. Or it could wipe us all out in an instant, burying the city in a thousand tons of flaming ash and rock, entombing us for all time in seconds.

Aelia gently tugs at my sleeve. "We should not linger here. I do not think it is--hrkk!"

I wheel about at her outburst. Oh, fuck!

Aelia's halfway up the wall, jerking and clawing at the braided and waxed rope around her neck. She gurgles as she struggles to draw breath. My eyes follow the rope up. He's there. Black against the sky, muscles rippling as he hauls Aelia inch by inch up the wall to his perch in silence. His mask has no eyes, but I know his grim gaze is on me.

I freeze, not breathing. The rope creaks. He's only feet away. I am the mouse, staring at the owl.

Aelia's gasp breaks the spell, her foot finding a moment's purchase against the wall, lungs grating in half a breath of precious air. A moment: our eyes meet - pleading, pain. The hangman yanks her higher, reaching down.

Run. It's not a conscious thought. Just an order from my brain to my legs. I turn from Aelia as the hangman's great hand closes around her delicate throat.

There is the pool. I see the shimmer of water. I don't question it. I just dive. Dive and swim to the tunnel she said leads to the Belly. The tunnel carries me swiftly into darkness, and it suddenly occurs to me that the pool was dry...suddenly, I'm trying to swim in air.

Ow. The landing is swift and painful, and it's darker than pitch. The air is stale. I catch my breath, and remember the fireglass gems. I pull one out. The light is weak, but I can make out my surroundings.

I'm in a stone tube lined in granite, just tall enough to stand in. Behind me is bricked up masonry. I touch it. It's real, solid. Ahead of me the tunnel is choked with rubble from a collapse. I'm trapped. Worse.

I'm buried alive.

That thought begins to sink in. Buried alive. Somehow I delusioned myself through a solid brick wall, and now I'm stuck forever.

That's when the panic kicks in, and I scream.

The Tale of The Exile --The Third Night: Welcome To My Nightmare (Part 2)

Part 2: Break On Through (To The Other Side)

We twist through the corridors. I have no idea where I'm going, but I'd rather keep moving than stop and let the darkness catch up. The elf girl doesn't speak much. She seems very calm for someone who's been abducted by a drug-crazed nutcase.

"What is your name?" she asks.

"Shouldn't you know this?" I mutter as I jerk a door open. Great. More corridors. By now the fireglass mosaics have all but gone out.

"I know you are a patient, and of interest to Lord Jereth. He did not see fit to bestow your name to me. I am Aelia. You are?"

"Gaven." I grunt. “Aelia, huh? Pretty name.” I open another door. Closet.

"Where are we heading, Gaven?" she asks. "Where are you taking me?"

"I don't know. Somewhere safe from The Shadows. Somewhere your 'Lord' can't get at me, either. A place I can wait out the night." Around us, the fireglass dims.

"Were you to encounter such a place, what fate would befall me?"

"You know, lady..." I begin.

"Aelia." she interjects.

"Aelia. Right. I haven't really thought this through."

"Then perhaps you should release me, and continue on your way. I would not wish to be a burden on your search."

"HA! Nice try, lady."

She hisses. "Aelia. Not lady.”

"Fine. Aelia. Right." I pull open another door. There's a pair of shrieks from the room beyond. "Whoops! Sorry!" Close the door, move on.

"It is uncommonly dark."

"Thank you Nurse Obvious. Doesn't it always get this dark around midnight?"

"No."

"Then it means we're all in danger. Jereth must have royally pissed of The Shadows by bringing me here."

"And The Shadows scare you?"

I stop, and stare at her. "You can't be serious. You're the only person I've met in this place who isn't scared by The Shadows."

"Humans have placed a lot of power into the hands of their superstitions. The Shadows are but ghosts. They cannot harm you unless you let them."

I turn. "Last night I stopped a man from killing himself due to the influence of the shadows. The night before, one tried to eat my soul. Another held a knife to my throat. Yet another crawled into a corpse and got it walking around again. Tell me that again with a straight face."

She looks up at me. For an instant, the dim light reflects in her large eyes, making them shine in the gloom. I feel goosebumps rise.

"Tell me this, Gaven. Did the Shadows cause any of that harm? Or was all of that the results of the people around allowing them to act?"

Those goosebumps prick higher. I can't help but wonder if she's right. Jessamine killed herself before The Other got to her. Eric nearly died, but his was the hand holding my pistol. I almost gave up to Despair. Not even Naros touched me before I attacked him first.

"I suppose..." I grunt. This isn't a comfortable chat.

"The Shadows have only the reality you lend to them, Gaven. They are ghosts and shades. Not demons. Not incarnations of evil."

I'd like to believe that. It would make my life so much easier if it were true. But, deep down, I know that there's something more to them. Naros said it when he was in a deal-making mood. There must be a darkness for them to exist in. Something must be casting these Shadows.

Things cast shadows, but nothing casts darkness. If you walk into the wrong patch of darkness you may never come out.

The cold whisper in my head makes my skin crawl. I've heard it before. I whirl around. The darkness is deeper. There's a figure near the wall.

"Aelia, we're in trouble." I say. She looks at me quizzically. "Run!" I scream. I don't give her the choice. There is laughter in the dark.

What wonderful sport. But you have no light, no weapons, and no saints to stop us. We move faster than you can run. We never tire.

I turn down a crescent-shaped porcelain hall. The dancing figure dim and flicker as the shadow creeps behind us, almost lazily keeping pace. I turn down the hall--Dragon take it! it's ahead of us! The figure runs at us from the opposite direction.

"Dragon take you!" I shake my fist. The figure mocks me by shaking his own fist back. I back away. It imitates me, still laughing. So much laughter! I hate it! I hate it! "Stop that! Stop it now!" I howl, and kick at the figure. My boot meets glass, and the figure shatters...I'm staring at mirror shards.

A face forms from the fireglass in the wall beside me. We had such fun before. Do you really think I'll let you get away again?

"Leave me alone!" I scream at the face in the wall. "Get away! Go back to the darkness!"

That won't work. Unlike your companion the other night you have no power over me. Listen! You can hear him, can't you? Come to end your misspent life...

I hear it. Heavy steps. Thud. Thud. Thud. No...please, no...

He's waited for you for a long time, as he waits for all thieves and wretches. You've known this day would come. He's here for you at last.

The tread of heavy boots is closer...I can hear the creak of rope. He doesn't hurry. Maybe if I don't look he won't exist.

Thud. Thud. Creak.

He must be turning the corner now. I can hear deep breathing...that has to be mine. The Dragon waits to eat the souls too heavy to fly to heaven...

Don't look. Don't think about it...it's not real...the sound is too close. I glance into the darkness. There he is, in his dark robes, measuring his rope. There are no eyeholes in his hood. He has no need for them. He knows where I am, where I've been, where I'll go...

"NO! Keep him away! I haven't...I didn't...I don't deserve the noose!"

Don't you? Don't you, Gaven? And what about when she burned?

"I wasn't there! I wasn't THERE when the Dragon-taken fire began! I couldn't help her!"

Why weren't you there in the first place?

The hangman closes in on me. I couldn't help her because...because...no, oh god no oh god don't do this to me...

Was the trifle worth much?

"I needed...just a little bit...Longshankes would have had my legs for trophies if I...he threatened the baby...you don't understand!"

"Gaven, you are distressing me greatly." A scared voice. Aelia. "Gaven, we should leave here. You are screaming at a wall. There is nothing.”

All your life a thief, Gaven. She tried to change you, but we both know what you are, what you were, will always be.

"It was just one last job! Just one, to pay Longshankes off! I swear!"

Yes. One last job, until things got rough again. Isn't that right?

The hangman measures his rope, begins tying the noose into shape. I feel my knees giving way. It's right. Again. I tried to make it legit, I did...but there was Longshankes, and the baby on the way, and...

And it twists the knife again. What was that you felt, when you saw the fire sweeping over everything? Not sadness, no. Not terror. Relief, wasn't it? When you realized what it meant, that the shop was gone? That now your troubles were all consumed?

I'm crying now. I can't stop it. I'm a worthless speck of dung, to be wiped away...let the hangman come...

Something is shaking me. "Gaven! Gaven, listen! I have something for you. Take this...this candlestick. Fight the demon in the wall, Gaven." Aelia pushes something into my hands. I grip.

No. No, I'm not letting this Dragon-taken thing win. I howl, and strike the face in the wall. The darkness fades as I keep pounding away at it. Fireglass begins to glow again. I can't hear the boots anymore. The wall is cracked.

I fall back to my knees, and finish weeping. "I'm sorry..." I gasp. "I'm so, so sorry..."

The Tale of The Exile --The Third Night: Welcome To My Nightmare (Part 1)

Part 1: White Rabbit

The padded room is a nice touch. Jereth had me tossed here after I threatened to eat his face off. Three burly human guards held me down, forced me into a restraining coat. One of the elvish nurses force-fed me some kind of pill that made my body go numb. I nearly bit her finger off. Then they hauled me here. Clearly, I've moved from "honored guest" status to "dangerous lunatic."

When the numbness wears off off, I toss myself against the door a bit. When that doesn't work, I toss myself against the padded walls. When I tire myself out, I sit down. That's when he returns.

"Hello there, Gaven." His voice comes from a slit in the door. "Are you calmed down yet? I really didn't want to resort to this."

"Go fuck a dragon, you sparkle-faced, limp-wristed butterfly!" I growl. My voice is horse from screaming this last hour.

"Tsk. You'll be calmer in the morning, I'm sure. Really, this is for the best. A nice, soft room, instead of the cold, haunted streets."

"You're the son of a thousand fathers, all whore-spawned jackal-gits like you!" I spit back. The slot closes. I'm alone. Finally.

It takes some painful contortions, and I think I tore a stitch, but I get the restraint coat off. Free! Well, free of that Dragon-taken jacket. But I'm alone, and I can't work that lock from my side. So I sit, and think to pass the time.

I could stay here, I suppose. Figure out what Jereth really wants from me. He's gone to a lot of trouble to keep me safe and convenient. But if he thinks I'm going to roll over and bare my stomach to him like a pampered little kitty, he's delusional.

I had a kitty once, a stray. It followed me around and I fed it scraps when I had them to spare. When I got the loan from Longshankes. I thought, "I can take care of it now.” Then I was late on a payment, and the kitty vanished. Longshankes sent its head to me in a box with a note saying "Don't be late again."

But the shop was failing, and she needed the doctor, on account of the baby, and I thought, "Maybe he won't mind if I miss just this once." Then three bullyboys showed up and worked me over with clubs. So I had to pull a job, but there was the fire and...

I punch the padded wall. My burned hand is still burning. Good. The pain keeps me here, in the now, instead of being swallowed by the past. I stare at my hand. There's a part of me that understands that it's not really on fire, just hurting. That part tells me the flames on my fingers are unreal. That part of me isn't the one in control right now.

I watch the fire turning my skin to ash, flecking away to leave bone behind. I move it around, marveling at the way the sinews tense and make the bones dance, while the flames sputter and curve like The Living Doll around them. It's a ballet of torment, a dance of destruction, crumbling my digits by degrees. Will I ever be able to use this hand again?

What was that?

I feel the world rattle, hear something like a crystal windchime ringing in the distance, and the whole room is moving. It's shrinking! The padded walls shake as they begin to close inwards, a deadly box growing smaller and smaller. I jam myself into a corner. So it was all a trap! I'm going to die, smothered by padding, crushed by a crazy room...there's a crack as the door pops out of its frame...

Run, Gaven! I half slide, half crawl across the pads to the opened door, racing against the shrinking box room. Almost there! Almost there! Success! I wiggle through the door, and I'm rewarded by a discreet little shriek from the nurse on the other side. I stand triumphantly!

The nurse doesn't seem to know what to make of me escaping her lord's trap. She looks at with with those big almond eyes. She looks familiar. "Are...are you alright, sir?" she asks tentatively. "There's been an earthquake and..."

"Ha! LIES!" I shout. "Behold me! I have escaped your lord's insidious murder box, girl! What will his laughing asshole face make of that? I'm free! Free to ruin his dinner!”

`"But..." she stutters.

I grab her arm. "Come on! I have a few words for his ladyship Jereth Dythanus. Consider yourself my hostage."

She gives me a look that screams "Help! Save me from the barking lunatic!" but I ignore it. I haul her down the porcelain corridor. I suddenly notice how dark the corridor ahead is. That's not right. The fireglass mosaics in the wall should shed plenty of light. Uh-oh. Fuck. The fireglass near us is dimming down, only as bright as a candle now. I've seen this before. It's The Shadows. Must be midnight.

The elf in my grip is terrified. She sees it too, which means that probably isn't delirium.

"Change of plans! We go this way." I say, and run.

The Tale of The Exile--The Third Night: Le Cirque d'Aberrations (Part 8)

Part 8: Gallows Pole

"So, who are you, then?" I say, turning to look at the speaker. He's about my height, thin, wiry, shaggy hair, not shaved recently. Looks like he's had a time of it himself. He's got bandages and bruises all over, like me. it's almost like looking in a mirror.

"What were you praying for? Safety?" he shoots at me. "Then run now. Questions later, when we've shaken the Watch. Deal?"

We move through the Bastion. He leads me to a grate. From the smell, this one leads to the waste sewers, not the nice clean water supply.

"Oh, not this again." I mutter, but between the guards and the sewers I'll take getting filthy. We slip down into the darkness, then wait. The guards apparently don't think to check the grate. I hear them stomp by. We wait a few minutes more. The smell is incredible. Don't gag.

“Alright," my companion mutters after a few more minutes, "time to go."

"No. Time for questions, I think. Who are you and why help me?"

He sighs. "Right. Should have known. OK, here's the deal. I'm here because of your prayer to the Saints, because they can't help you now."

That's alarming. "Why not?"

"Because you're an Exile. Exiles are marked by the Shadows, and even the Saints can't aid them directly."

"So my coin last night was wasted then?"

"Not entirely. They can guide your path away from danger, or keep you from catching ill. Or have you there when someone they ARE able to help needs it."

I feel used. "So the Saints used me to protect Eric? Only to utterly fail him?"

My guide looks my way. I get the impression he's glaring at me. "What you said last night was right, you know. About death and redemption. If I had thought that way...never mind. What matters is, you were right, and you tried your best. What happened after? Not your fault."

Doesn't feel that way. "Right. I notice you still haven't answered either question yet."

There's that glare again. "I'm getting to that. I'm here because you sacrificed your light to them. They cannot ignore such a prayer, Shadows or not. And they owed you for last night. So they found a loophole. You've been marked for The Shadows, so they sent one who has your survival in their best interests."

“Oh fuck.” I back away from him, slipping a little. "Oh fuck no. You-you keep away from me! Keep away!" Panicking...not good...must calm down... I can't. The memory of those silent figures with no candles gathered like vultures on the balcony of the cirque is too fresh...too vivid...

"You know, I just said that your survival is in my best interests." He sighs. "Look. I'm not your enemy here. I'm on your side."

I'm not listening. I'm running. The Shadows are the hangmen of the gallows of my Exile, and I'm not trusting one to slack his rope for me. I run for a bit, trying not to slip in the sludge covering the walkways or fall into the sewage running beside me. It's hard with no light. My hand is burning, so I start unwrapping it.

Ah. There. That's better. Now the flames licking my fingers can light my way. Now if only the walls weren't bleeding. Slow sores of sludge ooze like leprosy along the tunnel. The rotting bowels of Miir glisten.

"There you are." the shadow-man says from ahead of me. He got here quick. He walks into my light. He has no eyes, only holes leaking blood.

"I know who you are." I giggle. "You're the ghost of the last Exile, come to lead me to my doom. Well, I won't share your fate! Back, demon!” I wave my burning hand at him, but he doesn't seem impressed.

"Wow. That dreamlily has gotten its hooks deep in you, hasn't it? “ the shadow man sighs. “So you've heard the story of the Exile who was found dead after using his peepers for inkwells. Not surprised. It's a legend, after all. Here's the thing, though. It's older than people think, gone through a dozen tellers over the centuries, twisted into a morality tale. And after all this time, I'm rather sick of it. I want to help you, Gaven. I want to see you survive, because then the story will change. If you manage to survive this week, then people will tell the story of the Exile who survived. I want to be that story. So I'm here to help you. And I'll knock you out and stash you somewhere unpleasant but secure if I have to. Do you understand me?"

"You're crying blood. You might want to look into that." I say, holding my burning hand between us like a shield of pain. I start giggling.

"Look, Gaven. We need to get moving. I can lead you somewhere where you'll be safe, but we must be there before midnight. Understand?"

I lower my hand. "Fine. But if you kill me, I'll be very annoyed." I can see the walls changing color, from stone gray to powder blue. "Ok, so you don't want to be the story of the eyeless Exile, right? Does that mean The Shadows are living stories?"

"Something like that." My guide says as we move. "It's more like the forms we can take are determined by the tales told about us."

"Then what are you, really?"

"I was a man once. Just like you. I was offered a deal, though--become a legend and live forever." He sighs. "There are different types of legends. Most are not pleasant tales of heroism. Many are cautionary tales. I'm a victim for eternity."

Now I don't feel so bad about spitting in Naros's face, if this is the sort of thing he was actually offering me that first night.

We lapse into silence for the rest of our trek. Until my guide stops us. "We're here. Just up that grate is a place you can spend the night. You'll be safe from direct actions of the Shadows, so long as you stay within the grounds. They can still send things after you, though.”

I pull the grate open, and step out into the night air. It's a courtyard, with a nice garden. Some night guards notice me. They shout. Oh, fuck! I turn back to the grate...but he's already closed it.

"You bastard!" I scream. "You lied to me!"

"I said you'd be safe, not that you'd enjoy the stay!" Comes the reply. The guards grab me. I try to struggle out of their grip. Fuck. FUCK! A figure dressed in white approaches. He grins widely.

"Well! What a pleasant surprise! I'm so glad you found your way back to us, Gaven."

It's Jereth. I'm back in Lair Dythanus.