Chapter 13
Nightfall has fallen over the sun’s blue sky lapsing it with a clutter of stars and black satin. The mid July air is still baked from the day’s sun earlier preheating. After the wind had abated it brings about the essence of fresh forest aroma. There’s all the familiar sounds of crickets chirping, variety sorts of bugs and animals humming, and it all clasping together in the night’s orchestra.
What a perfect night for a walk.
Behind the mansion, or safe house—whatever it’s really called, I discover three different forest trails. Which, in any case, each must lead to a different destination; I’m really beginning to realize that Troy doesn’t just make something out of a pity whim. In addition, to only telling me half of what is. And what men in general fail to acknowledge is the simple little fact that women will eventually find out everything.
When I came about choosing which trail to hike upon, I settle with the ‘eenie-meanie-miny-mo’ method and got stuck in the middle. Thinking I’ll someway find my way back, I went with the middle. So far it ain’t such a bad choice after all.
The trail’s been cut away from weeds covered over in stone and dirt. Identical shaped rocks align the trail’s edge as a few others are camouflaged to be motioned censored lights. There is even beautiful assortment of plants surrounding the path’s outer border. I bend low plucking one out from the ground. Its frame is fair tiny pink petals that illuminate such a small faint luminosity that it’s barely manageable to notice. Suddenly the veins fade to grey gradually desecrating itself into a pile of withered ash.
My eyes widen as I stare down at my palm now covered in stained ashes. Getting up I swipe it all away not daring to go back and pluck another flower.
Deepening my way down the path the forest itself thickens. Hundreds of trees canopy over, endless amount of plants decorate the forest grounds, flowers all illumine faint assessment of colors; pink, purple, blue, and white. I even catch a few animals that I’ve never even seen before prowl through the bushes.
One stops at the trails edge sniffing its nose at one of the flowers. It looks like a cross between a rabbit and a ferret. Its body is long, with tiny claws, long floppy ears, a short bud tail, and topped with a short pink button nose. Its eyes are the size of a quarter blemished with shades of blue.
When I reach out to touch it, its teeth lash out centimeters away from biting off my fingers. I falter backwards, somewhat surprised. It scurries quickly back into the thicket of creepers.
“Ah Lass, be careful. Those dare are groun’ biters.”
I gasp, stumbling back in mid step.
The man chuckles a low hearty sound that rumbles in the back of his throat. He veers off one of the trees, passing a few, and then stepping onto the trail. His boots are piled with mud, his jeans rubbed with stains, and wearing a shirt that doesn’t look any better.
Ian stands front and center with a Vodka bottle the size of a gallon of milk. There must be about a quarter of it already gone. He swishes the clear liquid around before taking another gulp. I can hear it—it streaming down his throat barely leaving a sting behind. Once he finished there’s only half of it left. My theory is with every gulp he takes it’ll only be a matter of another two for the bottle to be completely empty.
“Wee brah’der hid all the good shoite.”
I blink. “I suppose I can’t imagine why.”
Ian seems to be unfazed taking another swallow as he turns down the trail; apparently somehow less drunken then he was hours ago.
“Wait!” I call out moving in align with his stride. “Where does this trail lead to?”
The forest is growing thicker seemingly endless with trees and creepers.
He spreads a hand through his thick ringlets downing another gulp. His lips plumb from the sweeten burn dawning down his throat. Drops scatter down his chin falling aimlessly on his shirt. Ian moves in long strides as I walk twice as fast to keep up. Before he answers he makes a grunt of dissatisfaction before dropping the glass bottle in the bushes.
“Troy didn’t already show yer?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Wiping his sleeve against his mouth, Ian grumbles. “Not too surprised. Waaat a dumb arse he is.”
My face cringes. “Okay, well—”
“Look,” Ian begins tugging out a cigarette from his pants pocket. He bends it back into shape and spits off a few pieces of dirt, before popping it between his lips. In his back pocket he grabs out a lighter. “Troy over thinks, over analyzes, and over dramatics everything.”
And that’s coming from the guy who gets himself drunk probably on a daily basis.
“You ain’t going to get a thing outta’ him.” He inhales and then lets out a long breath of smoke.
The smell clenches my nostrils. “I kinda’ got that part.” My words are tight clasped by impatience and obvious annoyance from the smell of the smoke. I turn my face away inhaling the sweet air next to me.
Ian chuckles. “You never did like the smell of cigarettes.” He doesn’t even bother to be polite and put it out, but rather continues to mindlessly smoke down the sweet addiction. Another puff of smoke fumes around his face which is crested with layers of cool ease and alleviation.
Ignoring the fact of how he can possibly know that, I ask once again. “Where does this trail lead to?” Ian doesn’t answer but rather concentrates on the sweet inhales and the pleasurable exhales he releases from his cigarette. “You’re not going to answer me are you?”
He smiles as he liberates a puff of wretched fumes.
“You’re a jackass. Why won’t you just tell me?”
Shaking his head, he shrugs his shoulders.
We elude into a lapsing silence of constant crunch, crunch beneath our feet, the singing of the nocturnal specimens, and the slight breeze brushing over the humid air. I cross my arms, bite my lip, and attempt not to say—“Alright, fine. Then how long is this trail?” As much as I love the evening walk, Ian is just ruining it with no resourceful answers to my questions. But even more so with his God awful cigarette.
Tossing the burnt out cigarette off to the side, Ian points a finger up ahead.
Within the near distance, the trees begin to thin fanning around opened premises. The brightly lit moon gazes down shining a soft glow overhead. It ignites a natural emission of light brightening a soft brilliance to what lies ahead.
I gasp.
“Don’t get your panties in all a fuss, lass. Come follow me.” Ian grunts moving along the stoned trail to the entrance door.
Absentmindedly I follow, enthralled with the surroundings. The forest had been panned out in an oval shape along the perimeter of the entire premises. Within it is a naturally illuminated two story greenhouse that’s centered off with a largely built dome glassed roof. The greenhouse’s entirety is octagonal, shaping around the oval perimeter of the outer edges of the forest.
Circling around its exterior area are various plants co-mating in a scenic view of a well groomed garden. Some plants and flowers are familiar originating from the human world while others somehow sync themselves to match. All are sorts of different colors, species, and types. Few exhale and as if alive release tiny winged creatures that go about fluttering around. Others illuminate tiny amounts of light within the veins of the flower—in and out the light fades breathing together simultaneously.
I hear a door slam and notice that Ian had already made it inside. I scurry in following him. The door squeaks open as I pass the threshold.
“Don’t get your panties all in a bunch, Lass.”
I gasp—again.
Ian, sitting comfortably on a wooden stool with his arms folded mindlessly and his legs resting on the floor half bent, lets out a silent sigh. “I need another beer.” I hear him grumble underneath his breath.
In the interior is illuminated by soft floor lights igniting the night’s plantation like an emerald diamond. Vases, pots, and small containers are all placed in rows on wooden tables filled to the brim with exotic plants, flowers, and a few other things I’ve never seen before. There are a few butterfly bushes packed in vastly large pots. Plants have spikes, others have pedals softer than roses, and some are so large they have a single pedal as big as my head. Making my way continuously down the maze of tables, I come across a plant that looks like a flytrap. Nearing it I get stick out a finger ready to touch the small hairs covering over its green body.
“Ah, better not be touchin’ that, lass. Bite your fingers right off.” Ian’s voice sounds way too causal.
A mere inch away the bud itself swiftly turns itself snapping at me with its pronged teeth “Holy shit,” I say jumping back and knocking into a table behind me. “What is that thing? A plant or a man eater?”
Taking out another cigarette he found stuffed in his pants pocket, Ian lights it up. “That there is cuddles. Has a great personality don’t you think?”
The muscles in my face fall advertising the lovely frown plastered all over my face. “Oh—he’s just so snuggly.”
He winks. “See lass, I knew you would get the idea.”
Rolling my eyes, I continue my way around. In the center is a large water fountain decked with lily pads, weeds, and water lilies. I can hear the deep croaking noise of what I think to be a frog. On one of the green lily pads is what appears to be a snake built with four tiny webbed feet underneath its belly. It slithers or rather crawls back into the water.
Plopping on a bench accompanied near the fountain, I gaze up. The moon emits a soft glow of white illumination which brightens the gentle radiance of pots that are filled with exotic pink, blue, red plants, dangling from the ceiling.
“So why does Troy have all of these plants?”
His lengthy figure moves off from the stool and weaves his way around the tables. His darn cigarette blazed with smoke. “Troy had this built for overbearing smartass of a brother Cole. These plants are used for all sorts of remedies, spells, charms and weapons.”
“Weapons? What do you mean by that? How can plants be used as weapons?” Expect will for cuddles.
There’s a pause before Ian responds as if he’s boredom puffed out every last smoke. “Plants like cuddles are meant to be planted underground. When something enters into their territory its venomous bite paralyzes the victim slowly—and rather painfully. Once the victim has been completely paralyzed it eats you alive.”
My eyes are left wide open. “Seriously?”
He perks up a brow and then as if it doesn’t really matter shrugs his vastly large shoulders and continues puffing inhales of that darn cigarette.
Which just reeks.
I turn back to the murky waters of the fountain, eyes weighted with sleep, and hanging onto the exhaustion of Ian’s chafe behavior. “So what are you doing out here at two in the morning, anyways?” I ask nonchalant.
Ian sits lazily on the bench, long legs extended out like two pieces of stringed spaghetti as his head is lagging back like he doesn’t give a hootin’ or a holler. He is the equivalent to a human sloth. “Pretty lass shouldn’t be out in the wee hours of the night thinking she is going to get anywhere.”
“So…you followed me?”
“More like happened to notice you nearly get your fingers chomped off.”
“Ah,” I say folding my arms and slouching back comfortably. “And you actually had the decency to warn me. I wouldn’t have ever guessed with your first impression yesterday.”
Ian shrugs. “It happens.”
Looking to him I analyze his expression: masked over with cool reflectance of genuine repose. The lines in his deeply toned skin are rubbed with a sleek gloss of solid indifference. The cigarette is the only thing that must be faltering any sort of emotion. The silence drags. “I suppose you aren’t going to give up any information as to why you were completely drunk and out of your mind?”
From somewhere underneath the bench, Ian lifts up a canteen of something alcoholic. Unscrewing the cap he takes a short gulp before turning to me for an offer. I give him my saddest delivery of dripping sarcasm.
“Too bad.” He says. “You were always fan of something good.”
“Is that an insult for saying I have a stick up my ass?”
“Smart girl.”
I roll my eyes. “And there goes your second impression.”
He shrugs. “It happens.”
The murky waters of the fountain bend and twist as something underneath weaves its way around. I watch it peculiarly gazing upon the long fin breaking the surface then emerging downward underneath the hidden depths. What could possibly be beneath in there? Swimming aimlessly in the hidden waters? Finding myself gazing down in the murky waters, I see only that of my own reflection staring back.
A lily pad, creamed over from the waters elegy, sits comfortably at the fountains edge. Grazing my finger over the top of it its slimy texture sticks to my fingers. With a single touch, I twirl it around letting water dribble over the edge. Ripples swell through the still waters.
Cause and effect, it’s a simplistic idea where the cause is what births the effect. How—discerning.
“Tell me,” I say. The bench creaks from the turning of my weight. “Tell me.” I’m looking at him now. Ian sits there arms folded casting a look so board, I almost slap him. “You know what I’m referring to. So tell me.” Within my words my tone is beseeching; clasped with an urgent notation of utter impatience. I make the point more unambiguous by formulating every inch of my face into a terrorizing façade of dominance.
It doesn’t work.
Ian lifts a thick brow as if the mere notation of my efforts were to only humor him; rather take on the effect I was hoping it would.
“Really?” I snarl. “You’re seriously gonna’ sit there and look at me like I am a total idiot?”
“I was merely enjoying of what was left of the silence.”
I splash the water back. “Shame.”
A low hearty sound rumbles in the back of his throat. “You can just ask nicely.” In the indents of my face a seething amount of impatience pours out like the blood of an open wound. Ian laughs, taking a sip from his smelly like canteen of alcohol.
“Or you can just stop with the constant drinking for five minutes.”
One of his thick brows rise as a pair of beady eyes stare back at me. Then, as if I’ve said nothing at all, Ian formulates the laziest shrug that any thickly broad shoulders can muster; while continuously intoxicating his happy juice. “Eh, this type of shit won’t affect me. Merely tinge a burn in my throat.”
My face falls. “Yeah, like that’s comforting.”
“There’s still room in here if you want to know what the happy side is like.” He outstretches his hand swishing the canteen around.
I glower. “You would be much more useful if you would just give me a bit of information.”
“Broad question, wouldn’t you think?” There’s a bit of satire in his teeth.
Standing up quickly, I cross my arms. “Well, I don’t know, Ian. Is it? We could you know start with: what the heck is going on? Since, well, everyone else is informed besides me and I seem to be the center of it all.”
There’s a quirk tugging at the upper edges of his lips. “Ah Lass, stop getting your vari panties in all a fuss. It’s not attractive on a girl like you.”
Slightly confused I ask, “Vari panties?”
“You really shouldn’t be stressing yourself out; it will ruin your complexion.”
“Says the guy wasting his life away on alcohol.”
Theatrically placing a hand over his chest Ian chides, “Ach! Lass don’t insult me out of my own immortality.”
Exhaling an impetuous sigh, my voice rises. “Stop being whatever you’re being and tell me something.”
“Are you referring to my enthralling charming self? I do say so myself, I am quite the ladies man.”
The muscles in my face extract my most endeavoring supplement of absolute irritation; before turning around making my way towards the exit.
Before settling my hand on the door knob, Ian calls out, “I’m better at talking on my drunken days.”
I turn to look at him. “And this isn’t a drunken day?”
“Unfortunately.” Those massive shoulders shrug.
Exhaling slowly I bite my tongue forcing out the one simplest word, “Can you please tell me what is going on?”
Ian leans back against the bench, seamlessly pouting languid in every muscle. “Well you might as well sit down for this one, little girl. Things are about to get long and excruciatingly historical.” To temper the disgust and boredom creasing in the tiresome lines of his face, Ian somewhere takes out another large bottle of vodka.
I make my way back towards the bench, examining Ian as he unscrews the bottle. The silence of the night is being interrupted by his swish and swig gulping noises. Plopping at the far end of the bench, I look to Ian and think; this is surly going to be a long night.
“Hundred’s or so years ago the Otherworld was once living in peace. War hadn’t raged for many years; resources were available without the need to be rationed, women and children could walk the streets without the fear of getting killed, and among most of the species there was mutual understanding to let each kind live among their own. The Otherworld was in a state of stability, however, among all worlds there is potential for change.”
I sit on the edge of the bench, enticed with a far too much enthusiasm as Ian spoke.
“In the history of humans there had been an empire known as Rome. Like all great empires they are bound to fall from the rise of too much power. This is similar to the destruction of the Otherworld. The two eldest of the three species, which included the winged-ones, vari, and inx, had for hundreds of years mutually agreed to rule or ‘govern’ the Otherworld. By doing so the Elders combined their gifts into one, which virtually created the ultimate power. Over time, it is believed, that the Elders grew corrupted; each wanting the power for themselves and their kind. Eventually the power among them grew to be too strong. War had broken out among all species, including most of the casts of the demons and halflings.”
“Wait,” I say. Ian scores me a look of irritation. “You’re going a little too fast. Please explain why the casts of demons and the halflings got evolved in a war that from the start weren’t apart of?”
Lifting up the gallon of Vodka, Ian drowns himself in a simmering bliss of human alcohol. In any case, it doesn’t seem to be affecting him, but only to ease the tension in his tiresome face. “In the Otherworld there are low ranking demons that are better off to be nonexistent. The Elders had a mutual agreement to not involve the demon kind in their ways of government rule because of the demons nature. The demons had then been casted off to live among their own ways.”
“But that still doesn’t really explain why the demons got involved. Why would the demons want to get involved in a war?”
Ian lights another cigarette. “Ah, everyone likes a bloody good fight.”
My brows drawl in.
“Alright, alright, alright. Most demon kind is naturally drawn to war for many reasons; resources, land, but preferably they are in for the kills.”
“So they got in for absolutely no reason at all? Because they felt like it?”
“Aren’t you the new Einstein?”
I give him a swap on the arm. “Come on there has to be another reason.”
Ian turns facing me; heaving out a petulant sigh that releases a long exhale of smoke. “It’s rumored that the Elders had threatened a few lower casting demons to extinction because many were killing, stealing, and using resources up.”
“Resources that belonged to the Elders?
Ian nods.
“So what happened next? Who won the war?”
His long lanky fingers rub over his sleep-deprived eyes.“It has been written that the power of the Elders would be over run by their own destruction, leaving war between all species. It’s been rumored, however, that in order to save the power they had the Elders created a child. This child would be born five hundred years after the death of the Elders. It would carry most the unimaginable capabilities and have abilities like no other kind.”
“The Elders created a new kind?”
“It had been prophesized that this child would either bring destruction back to the Otherworld or be a savior the Otherworld has longed for.”
My body tenses, goose bumps forge on my skin, and I can hear the beatings of my heart bump against my chest. I look up at Ian; his cool defiance is glazed with tiresome nights with the pleasure of alcohol and the subtle ease of nicotine. He looks back and the smoke from his cigarette coats the air.
It all makes sense now. The lying, the secrets, and why Troy has kept me so naïve. A sense of relief is lifting off from my shoulders and only thing weighing on me now is how Troy deserves an apology. All he was trying to do was get my attention earlier. He had gone through all this trouble to protect me, to keep me safe, and insure that I am kept alive. In return, I had spat in his face.
But worst of all, I am connected to a centuries old prophecy that I am destined to either become the ultimate destruction of a world I have never known or have the strength to save it.
“Ah, don’t dwindle in your own despair. It’s highly unattractive.”
“I’m not dwindling.”
“Sure you are,” he responds, nonchalantly.
I roll my eyes. “And what makes you say that?”
“You’re thinking too much.”
“And what makes you think that?”
Ian leans back as he slouches his overgrown body to liquefy seamlessly against the bench. “You ask too many questions.”
I grunt. “Yeah, and whenever did curiosity kill the cat?”
He laughs—a sound so inane that the subtle humor in it is desolating. Ian pours another swig of Vodka as he shakes his head while the laughter in his gritty voice fades.
The piercing sound breaks my ears and too fast for me to react I’m on the ground with my hands covering my ears. Ian’s hands push me down shouting out orders to keep down and stay down.
There’s another crash—opposite from my left and just as quickly there’s the sound of glass raining down clattering against the stoned pavement. With it there’s the piercing cry howling, wailing brutal screams. Echoes of multiply cries are screeching. I can feel it the room vibrating as everything around me is ripping into pieces.
I look up witnessing tables of exotic plants being thrown half way against the room smashing into more tables. Plants hanging from the ceiling are being ripped down, smashed, and is thrown leaving a trail of dirt flying in its path. Up above and what’s left with the surrounding glassed walls, the yowl of high pitched screeching vibrates the glass. Again and again, tables ripple across the floor banging into already broken tables. I duck, barely dodging a flower plot.
It’s the melody of their cries that sync together in harmony. Combining the pitches together it multiplies in degrees of pitch layering higher and higher until a complete melody intones completely. The glass inhales and wheezes back out before, together now, the high screeches of wailing demons combusts the glass completely.
Instantaneously slices of broken glass swirl in a combustion raining down shards and filling the room entirely. Beyond somewhere, I can hear Ian shouting, “RUN! Get out of here! GO!” There’s a sound of a wailing shriek and abruptly it stops. “Avala! Look up!”
I do.
“Run!”
I don’t.
The nervous in my body instantly gratify and I’m stone against my fear. There’s nothing imaginable that ever can compare to the twelve foot demon-reptile standing above me. It’s beady, marble eyes are shades of yellow coaxing down on me as its foot long red tongue licks around its extended animal snout. It’s coated in shades of grey scales all seemingly to somehow shimmer in a slight rainbow effect. Talons are the size of oversized bear’s claws, pawed out at its side. Its hind legs are beaten with coats of muscle all trailing up and through its torso and upper body. Its shoulders extend three times the size of a wolverine. Behind it, its tail, averaging five feet in length, whips aimlessly about smashing broken flower pots and pieces of broken wood.
In the background, Ian moves quickly. His brilliantly dark blue wings are pumping out a slight luminosity, as the magic flows through him. Using it, he combines it with a long sword at his side; slicing, plunging, and one by one silencing those wailing bitter cries.
Back above me, I slowly begin to emerge up. My eyes are steady on it and suddenly it’s opening its wide large snout and releasing an excruciating, poignant scream that brings my ears to bleed. At the same time, before I can run, it whips out a talon against my entire upper body.
I can hear my name as I am flinging across the room like a helpless rag doll.
Smashing into a pile of wreckage, I land brutally with every angle of sharp wood jabs at my skin. My head whiplashes against a flower pot, it breaking beneath me. Somewhere, I hear the echo of my own scream. Dust flitters my eyes, my fingers are somehow removing remains of broken glass, wood, and scraping off dirt. The air around me suddenly enhances, within me the pounding of my heart quickens, and in seconds I am completely rejuvenated and on my feet.
Drawling in and out is my long and steady breathes, my fists at my side, and suddenly something else entirely takes over me. I can feel it. That burning rage is pouring out my fingers and seamlessly within it is the power that is jubilates every nerve in my body.
The reptile demon stands ten feet from me—somehow smiling back showing a line of inch long pointed teeth. Over on the other side of the room, Ian is preoccupied. On my own with this one, I take a step forward. It takes a step forward edging me on. I smile and take two steps forward. Licking its line of teeth it takes another step forward and leans into a stance, as if ready to spring forward.
It lifts its snout high screeching yet again before driving forward at full speed. I take my own position ready to—whipping out my fist I drive home into the face of the demon. Failing back it stumbles as if surprised. But soon it regenerates recognition and it comes back at me in full rage.
Whipping out its talons, I dodge most of them fighting back in hyper-motor skills I have no recollection of ever having. It’s as if my body has forged a natural defense for itself. Left, down, right, side punch, a wail, another one of the demon’s whippings flings me back. Up again I don’t stagger clawing out instantly, throwing punches left and right. It takes a blow throwing out its massive talons. I lean back before whipping my leg up in the air hitting its head back causing him to fumble, tumbling back into a pile of wreckage.
I run to stand above picking up a large shard of glass and quickly plunge in through its throat.
“Through the woods, Avala! GO! QUICKLY!”
The blood on my hands drips down and I stand shaking uncontrollably.
“For fuck’s sake, Avala! RUN!”
The shard slips through my fingers and I feel myself running. Running, I go jumping through the broken glass and onto the terrain of the back forest. Creepers, weeds, and branches all block my way cutting my skin as I plunge through, aimlessly running.
In the distance there are still wails of the demons cries hyphening in an intonation of high-pitched screeches. Faster I run, quicker I force my feet to go, and in a minutes time I’m set in the middle of an empty tree-filled forest. Looking about the trees and the moonlights gaze is what’s only surrounding me.
Here I stand shaking as every nerve pumps with absolute nervousness.
I killed.
I fought.
What is happening to me?
The air turns cool and waves of wind brushes over me. In the silence I listen and about a mile out the soft whimpering of the wailing cries slowly begin to cease. In a flood of relief, I sigh letting my shoulders fall back. As Ian instructed, I begin walking folding my arms around my chest protecting myself from the soft airbrushes of the wind.
Seconds turn into slow minutes and the forest thickens as I forge on deeper through the trees. Aimlessly I continue knowing nowhere of my location. The trees are prolonged with darkness hovering over me like a stampede of giants. I feel caged and my battle of freedom is through the exit of a never ending forest.
A sound.
My ears perk up, my body seizes in instant alert, but my own rapid heartbeat betrays me.
A snapping of a twig there, then over here, and closer it comes.
I’m running hard and fast brushing around the trees, jumping over fallen logs, and gaining dozens of scratches in the process. Behind me I can hear it—its coated husky breathing is ravaging behind me. I make a quick turn right dodging it’s a talon about to scorch through my backside.
A bitter harsh wail sounds through the trees; it grows louder, more desperate. Trees behind me are busted and smashed out of the way, the shards of wood flooding the forest floor.
Along the way my foot catches on something and my body is flung forward, then rolling off to the side, and somewhere I am stop.
The wails stop and all I hear is silence.
Serene silence of total bliss.