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Chapter 31
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I pack up Butcher's two airdrop sacks in the faint morning light. The den smells of gore and decaying tissues—in the corner lies our enemy with fangs still unleashed. Her menacing, contorted mouth bares open, hungering for Graduate blood. Taking her in, I'm seized by violent tremors. Carnivore gnats buzz all around.
Butcher flays off the Fynx's swarthy coat and afterwards hacks off bulky, pink pieces of her. Sweat borne of exertion slides off the warrior's gritty skin and paints the packed dirt. He keeps his back to me and coldness sharpens his spine. I fear things have gone back to normal. Old habits die hard.
You would never know he nearly gave up the ghost last night. He hides his pain so well, letting only his breath hitch here and there when the agony must become unbearable. Watching him, I want to cry and I don't know why. Blood still streams from ugly wounds. The growing pallor of his skin reveals that the loss is too much.
Stop! I want to scream. Just stop!
If he asked me what I wanted him to stop I wouldn't know exactly what. But something...there's something I just can't take anymore of.
When firmer light butters a pale, snowy blanket we leave the den and trudge into harshness and snow. It's too dangerous to stay—other Fynxs may come to avenge their fallen one.
To give us provisions for the trip, Butcher stows hunks of the Fynx meat in a sack and carries it slung across his back along with his weaponry. He gives the flayed Fynx fur to me and I encase my shivering frame in its warmth. The miserable cold makes my qualms with touching dead flesh disappear. My bare feet press into the unbearable frost. After ten minutes I connect with them no longer—for all I know they may not even be apart of me anymore. I lose them to frostbite?
The wounded warrior strides forward, skin naked to the winds, lengthy, matted hair blowing wildly in the freezing gusts. His tunic is as thin as mine but there are no goosebumps on his skin.
We've waded a few yards from the bloody burrow when I stop. My breath wafts before me in great clouds. Staring into the fog a face grows and comes alive. I see her! I see my friend. Blue eyes materialize from the landscape of white. A mouth edged with laughter; a perky, alert nose; warm, open hands. Jewel.
"Have you forgotten me?" I almost hear her saying.
No! Never!
"Then where are you? Where are you dear friend?"
I am lost. I am trapped. He, he...
"Find me. It's almost over.."
No! No!
I stare at Butcher's back. My teeth grit down until I could swear they chip away and turn to dust. This is my chance, my time to be a lone wolf once more. I have the courage and the opposition is at its weakest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? And hasn't Butcher changed, at least somewhat? There are chinks in that heart of iron. Everything isn't absolute.
Jewel.
What kind of friend have I been? I think of my friendship with Kerry and feel like dying.
"We're heading east." Butcher speaks for the first time since last night. He must wonder why I've stopped. The husky growl of his voice sounds tired, as if it's nearing the end of its lifespan. Hearing it I can't stop the shivers that come, the terrible memories of when it cried my name in the dark.
"We'll stop after we bypass the mountains."
The snowy peaks loom in the far distance.
"I'm going west." My fists clench resolutely, though my trembling lip unveils my secret fears.
Butcher's back stiffens. He turns to me slowly. My feet itch to run before our eyes clash. I hold my ground only because I'm hesitant to barge off into the snow empty-handed. I pray he'll be generous with the provisions we've gathered. If not, I don't know where I'll find food in this snow laden desert.
"West?" he smiles. Something selfish flares in his gaze. I take a tentative step back. "You're deserting me?"
"I'm going my own way. That's all."
The smile dissipates and a scorching fire flares in his rippling form. It's clear now, the unwillingness to let me go. I should have just run and hoped he didn't catch me. Selfish desire builds into his aura and I realize with agony that the death soldier hasn't retreated. He reaches for me. I stumble back, so fast I barely escape falling over my feet.
Butcher still secures hold of my upper arm.
"I'm sorry." When his eyes fill with regret it almost seems as if he means it. "But I can't let you go."
"What? I'm a prisoner! You would make me your prisoner?"
"If you think of it that way!" he snaps back.
"What you did to me...? Everything! And I—! Last night, did it mean nothing? I forgave you! You must let me go, if only for that! A life for forgiveness!"
I didn't forgive him, but he couldn't know.
"That's why I can't," he growls, boring his eyes into my soul. "I can't let the first with a heart deep enough to forgive me to just, disappear. You don't understand, you are the first who hasn't hated me. I want to—"
"So I must be your prisoner then? Because you can't deal with yourself—you, who made yourself! How selfish! How utterly selfish—how despicable!"
He smiles again. It's a smile I know all too well. The kind you make when everything is screaming inside.
"I'm a selfish man, Princess."
I shudder. He touches my cheek, staring past my face to whatever lies beyond my back. Vomit begins to dance and every hair on my skin revolts from the connection. Something in his stance forces me to stay. It's an unspoken command.
"Don't worry." He sounds like a broken wind-up toy. "I will no longer take what you don't offer. There will be no more sin."
Despite the fear banging away, I roll my eyes and scoff. I'd deserve whatever came for me if I believed him—this liar, this man who can't speak a single truth.
He lets his hand fall and swallows.
"I swear, Princess. There will be no warmth, no notions of alliance, of romantic love. I expect nothing from you. If you want, you can go back to hating me."
The calmness in his eyes and lackluster voice strike hard. My eyes widen and I come to the conclusion that he's entirely serious. Many would take me for a fool for believing him this time. But I've begun to recognize there are moments for Butcher when a moral fabric does exist—like last night. He's showing me a piece of this cloth now.
"Forgive me. I just want something that reminds me I'm human. Something that offers acceptance, even if it's because of force. Forgive me."
The blood drains. I can't look him in the eyes anymore.
"It's never been this way. I've never hoped for—."
He swallows with difficulty. I watch as he fights for control—control of himself.
"Just, stay! Understand?"
"No," I growl. "No, I don't!"
"I'm a selfish man, Princess," he warns.
"Already!" I fall into high-pitched, frightened laughter. It quickly turns to sobering hate. "Already, you show your colors! I won't stay! I'll kill myself to get away from you! You might have me for now, but watch your back Butcher!"
"My colors?" he frowns. He gives a trembling grin. "You're right. You don't understand. I won't hurt you, but I'll do anything to be human. I will do anything."
That's all he says.
All he says.
Once you've shown your cards you've lost the game. That's what I did last night—I showed my heart. It's a tantalizing apple to someone who's never been fed, never had a beating heart unlocked to make room for them.
Never had the chance to become human.
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Jewel, I am coming for you.
I promise you.
Hold on.
Hold on till I make it to you.
He won't let me go yet, but I'll find a way. Somehow.
Okay.
Where are you?
In a world of pain.
Though the heavens fall,
We will stand tall,
And wait till morning come,
From that place where angels once sung.
Though the heavens fall,
We will stand tall,
And wait till morning come,
From that place where angels once sung.
Though the—heavens fall,
We will tall,
And till come,
From where angels once
Though heavens
We
Till come
Angels
I wait for you...
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The mountains come closer, rising higher and higher to broken skies. Foamy clouds hide the bright afternoon sun and bleed snow faster and faster. I cannot feel anything anymore. The cold reached my bones and made my fingers swell to an ugly purple hue. The only place that forces me to continue is the memory where Jewel's face shines. Where she rests there is warmth and a lazy sun channels life into all.
I give a rattling cough. My lungs creak against the other, shaking in a cage of ribs. Pain flares in the throat but I simply swallow it back. Inhaling allows coldness to flood, making me all the icier and dead. My skin is like Kerry's as he lay on the wasteland, bleak and shriveling away.
Oh, I loved him!
It's too late now, I know. But I did. I loved him.
My coughing brings Butcher's attention. He stops to observe.
"You're still unwell."
"It will go away."
I hack into a quivering hand. Blood splatters onto my palm. I smile at the crimson as tears well up in my eyes. I am so young, and yet, I have learned so much of life's bitterness. I know what it's like to die slowly, to have a draining hourglass arbitrarily deciding how much longer you can go.
Butcher and I both know my frequent fevers were unnatural. I haven't spoken of them much because they consumed most of my time in that terrible cave—at least when Butcher wasn't. I barely remember them, except for the all-consuming pain and quivering agony in my stomach. There was always a presence nearby too, pouring water on my dry lips, keeping my grip on this world steady.
I peer at Butcher.
My hourglass must last—I must find Jewel. I promised. Even if it means by the time I get to her I'm dying in her arms.
Butcher crosses his arms. I sense those cold abysses called eyes scrutinizing me.
"Your fever should have left days ago."
"Well it hasn't." Bitterness spills in waterfalls.
He takes my wrist in his calloused palm. A long finger brushes the tracker shoved deep into my flesh. Looking at it, he frowns.
"Why are they trying to kill you?"
Pausing mid-cough, I stare at Butcher. Shock forces my eyes to bulge. My breaths drop to faint whispers.
"Do you know why they want you dead?"
Darkness clouds my vision. Lightning strikes a thousand times behind my lids. Skeletal fingers dangle me over an abyss from which cries of sorrow escape. Butcher is the focal point on which I focus to remain grounded, without him a nightmare will suck me from where I stand.
Don't listen to him.
He's a killer, how can you trust him?
These voices aren't mine. They come from shadowy regions of my subconscious. I fight to silence them, and even when I do they hum in the void.
"What?" I give a strangled gasp.
"How long have they tried?"
He's a monster.
"I don't know."
Run! It's a trap!
"Do you know why?" he repeats.
"It's Xaro isn't it?" I suddenly grasp this foreign creature, this man without morals. "It's them?"
Our faces are inches apart. For once, I don't recoil. He smiles.
"You have so much power and you don't even know who you are."
"Wh-who am I?"
A rumble curdles up in his chest and bursts out as bitter laughter. Searching my eyes, he cackles even harder, standing back into stinging wind thick with snow. The downpour thickens to a curtain. It's through this crowded, white sheet that I reach out and dig desperate fingers into the Raider's hot skin growing cold.
"Who am I?" I beg. "Tell me!"
Suddenly the mask fills with terrifying emotion—danger—the closest this Raider will ever come to human fear. He takes my chin firmly. I quake as he speaks his next words.
"You don't understand," he smirks. "As we speak, they listen. They close in (he thumps the side of my head) and wait for a chance to strike. You can never know who you are. The moment you do, death will no longer be a taunt. They have a thousand hells just waiting for you if you ever awake."
The profound disturbia closing in on Butcher's expression makes everything real.
"Why? Why me?"
"What you encountered last night, what I struggled with, was not a Fynx. What Fynx speaks? Tell me that? She spoke to you, I heard. She was going to hang you from the stars. They're coming for you princess, you just don't realize how hard."
I can't breathe.
"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood."
The words are foreign but they feel like a blow. I'm stumbling in a world that kills, that lies. Nothing is to be trusted, nothing is real.
"But against principalities."
"Please stop."
I can't bear it anymore.
"You can't see it. Knowing the truth requires pain you've ever known. You can only hear them creeping. But this is your truth," he thumps where my heart beats. "This, princess."
I stumble back. This darkness, this enemy, I cannot face them. I don't know them. They clutch me in sharpened claws prepared to slice me open. They prevent me from ever discovering my reality. I cannot continue to crawl blindly, bumping heads with dragons meant to kill. I need a guide, I need a guide familiar with revealing pain.... Only pain will find the truth. Only pain can win.
Xaro forced me on purpose. Perhaps, they imagined it all along.
Eventually, I would need a born killer.
My grip on Butcher tightens. He goes to shake me off but the wild look in my eyes must make him pause.
"I need you."
His eyes expand. All is shaken. All is out of control, nature skids off course. The Raider stares my humanity head on like a deer in headlights. He's probably never been so thrown, so taken off guard. And just by words—words that treat him as human.
"What?" is all he manages.
"Someone sent me you," I think hard, peering into those glass eyes. "My allies—Dana? To show me the truth—the truth of what I am?"
"They'll kill you for this."
My tracker begins to beep red. Butcher looks at the traitorous grey square evenly, understanding that nothing is by happenstance.
"They're here," he chuckles like he's friends with death. "They're here."
Though the heavens fall,
Blood floods my eyes.
We will stand tall,
Searing pain grips my head, gouging into my crying brain.
And wait till morning come,
My lungs implode, my chest dips in and shapes a bowl. I feel myself slipping into the heart of shadows.
From that place where angels once sung.
"Butcher," I frown, staring at rivers of blood running from my neck wounds. "Why do you call me Princess?"
"Run to me," is all he says.
Is all he says.
I tremble violently and sink into the snow. Before consciousness once again rescinds me into a foreign hell, Butcher grasps my arm to keep me from falling. He takes me to his side where his lungs expands and sink with every one of his mighty breaths.
Run to me.
I close my eyes.
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There's a voice.
It's soft at first, but it quickly rises to a visceral scream.
Princess of Lacona! Princess of Lacona! You were born to die! You were born to kill!
The voice rattles my very core and my brain nearly bursts from the vibrations. I cover my ears and cry into the black. It's then the voice moves into my head. The howl is worse than that of wolves, of a dozen Fynxs.
You were meant to die! And you will.
Drip.
Patter.
Plop.
The sounds of sorrow.
A handkerchief drowning in tears comes to mind.
You owe Xaro your life. You are their sacrifice. It's only fair.
You are born to die.
Born to die.
Xaro has come. You must answer, you must surrender! We've played long enough. It's time.
A chopping block arises in the terrible dream. An axe swings out of the dark and plants securely into the stone.
Pay your people's due.
I cannot breathe or think. The hand of the end is coming. I cling to the shards of my disintegrating world as I float in awful darkness. The pale hand of death clutches my heel.
Die Princess of Lacona!
Die!