Red Lineage

by Ozias Goldman

  And then I was floating, weightless, with the visage of a woman holding me centered with a hand to my shoulder. The woman hovering above me was beautiful, radiating energy that was equal parts threatening and protecting. Her hand was still outstretched, in the same position as when I collided with it, and she looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure I had ever seen her before.

  A wave of sadness and longing washed over me as I remembered the other world, missing the freedom, the power. “Why did you take me from that place? It was the most beautiful feeling I’d ever had. I felt strong, powerful in a way I never had my entire life.”

  “You are a fool, boy.” The girl said

  I frowned. Recognition was just at the edge of my consciousness. "Who are you?"

  “Foolish indeed, boy. You ask the wrong questions.”

  I noticed then that I heard her, yet her mouth did not move. “Who are you?” I flailed my arms and legs around, trying to get away from the woman, but could not. I had no footing, no means to propel myself, like a fish out of water. “Am I dead?”

  She let me go, and I heard her continue speaking as I helplessly rotated in a slow circle, despite my best efforts to gain control of my body. “You are not dead, boy. But you should be...”

  My rotating body gave me a glimpse of the small room with black walls that matched the black ceiling, which themselves were a sharp contrast to the dusty, almost chalky white floor, and my memory came back to me: the pale man, the knives, the fire… I would have screamed if my reeling mind hadn't robbed me of my voice.

  “Never, in all my years, have I seen someone survive the rite, let alone make it out with no bodily harm. It, perhaps, gives me a new-found appreciation for the merits of the order’s methods.”

  It was Bezi who spoke; her cadence was immediately recognizable now that I wasn't fooled by what my eyes showed me. Any confirmation I might have needed solidified when my rotating body faced down towards the ground below me, and I saw my own body, bandaged, lying flat on my back while the old shaman knelt at my head, hands on her knees with her head bowed.

  “It is for that reason, and that reason alone, boy, that I have pulled you out.” Her cold hand closed on my shoulder and spun me back around to face her floating form, hovering above me. “There are important things we mu—" Her head cocked to the side, looking off towards the bare wall, appearing to almost see through it. “We must return to the physical realm.”

  With a casual push of her hand, I shot down towards the ground and slammed into my body. My eyes shot open, and I sat up, gasping for air. I turned around just as old Bezi’s head lifted from her chest and her milky eyes opened. “What happened?”

  She didn't answer. Just as my frustration flared, pain throughout my entire body seized me, and I fell back trembling and groaning. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. The wounds to my torso, palms, and shoulder were present, but minor in comparison to the blanket of pain that coated every inch of my body.

  “By all accounts, boy, you should look about as bad as you feel right now. At my age, having seen all of the wonders, and horrors, that I have, I’ve come to relish these rare moments when I am truly speechless.”

  As annoyed as her condescending voice made me, it was a welcome distraction this time, however small. The pain threatened to consume every inch of my mind, so I was thankful for the sliver that focused on hating her voice.

  Something soft and pungent pressed against my face. “Breathe deep, boy. Deep, deep…deep.”

  Breathing was about the most I could do, aside from lying there trembling with pain. In moments my mind clouded, and the trembling stopped. The terrible pain was still there, but it was in the background of my awareness now, and I was able to turn away from it.

  "Thank you, Ms. Bezi," I said as I removed what turned out to be a cloth wrapped bundle of something soft and malleable like clay.

  “Do not take the poultice from your face, boy.”

  My head began to clear as she scolded me, and the slight increase in clarity had allowed the pain to rush back to the front of my consciousness. I didn’t make that mistake again.

  “Keep the herbs over your face.” She said as she climbed to her feet, her knees popping and cracking as she walked across the dusty room to a rotted out wooden bench along the far side of the concrete wall. “At least until the vapor fills the room. Would do us both some good.”

  She opened a creaky drawer and pulled several small cloth bundles out and placed them in a neat row, one right next to the other, in equal spacing. The last item was larger than the rest; she placed it off to the side, near the edge of the desk.

  From the far corner of the desk, she retrieved a sizeable metal canister with an open space at the bottom that housed a charred wick. She held her thumb and forefinger to the cord, paused for a moment, and I could see her delicate hand trembling, then snapped, sparking a small flame that quickly blossomed to life. She blew, gently, stoking the fire brighter, and then opened the round orb at the top.

  She rested the canister on the surface and turned her attention to the cloth bundles she had pulled from the drawer, unwrapping each and spreading the cloth flat to the table. One by one, she pinched a generous amount of the contents of each—most of which looked like nothing more than sand of varying shades—and sprinkled precise amounts into the opening of the orb, the way an artisan chef would meticulously season a pot. Working with quick efficiency, she went down the line, until she reached the last bundle.

  That last bundle held what appeared to be an insect of some type, resembling closest an Egyptian scarab I’d seen on television. It looked stiff, dead, but when she lifted it off the table, an almost imperceptible flash raced across its body, so dim I wasn’t sure it wasn’t my imagination, and then its tiny legs started skittering in the air, long pincer snapping open and close. She tossed it inside and flipped the lid closed with surprising speed, and a muffled hiss filled the air.

  Ms. Bezi lifted the canister and held it out at arm’s distance, unmoving for several seconds, as white smoke billowed from the orb. The white smoke darkened to grey, and then to black, and finally, the hissing quieted. She relaxed, resting the canister back down atop the table.

  She produced a paper fan from a pocket in her thick gown and fanned the thickening smoke still billowing from the now silent orb, spreading it out into the air, quickly filling the tight space.

  She took a deep breath, taking in large amounts of the fumes, then slowly exhaled it. Then another, deeper and slower this time, and then turned around and walked back to me with a notably more mellow demeanor. “When your eyes begin to tingle you can lower the poultice.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  She waved my gratitude away with a disdainful stroke of her arm. “I need you to explain a few things to me.”

  I nodded, and immediately regretted it as my vision swam. If the pain at the edges of my consciousness weren't as extreme as it was, I would have thrown the foul-smelling bundle as far away from me as possible.

  "How did you come across the creature, boy?"

  The creature. The words sent a shiver down my spine. Red being anything more than my sickness would have taken a long time to adjust to in and of itself, but a creature? "Red's been with me most of my life. I didn't even know what he was until tonight." I shook my head. "Hell, I still don't even really know what he is."

  “I’ve told you, boy. The one you call Red is a demon of the nether. But that is an oversimplification, in truth. Their kind has become the things of myth and legend by those such as yourself, who they have chosen to reveal themselves to.”

  “They…” I laughed. “There’s actually more of them.”

  The old woman laughed. "There are many, many more of them than there are us, boy. Most cannot move between the realms."

  “But Red can move between them?”

  "Indeed. He is here in our realm, after all. It is even easier now that he tethered to you."

  “He’s gone now, though. We�
�ve had a bit of a falling out.”

  The old woman cackled again. “You have had much revealed to you this night, boy, but you are still blind.”

  I breathed through another flare of anger. Even through the dulled consciousness provided by her poultice, she still managed to get under my skin with her dismissive tone. "And how exactly are you so sure of this yourself, old woman?"

  “I do not tolerate disrespect, however subtle, boy. Mind your tone.”

  “You’re right, Ms. Bezi. I’m sorry.”

  "Indeed you are, fool boy. And I am ‘so sure' because I can see the tether, clear as the morning sky. You should have seen the tether as well when I pulled you back into the ether. But I am not surprised the link went unnoticed."

  “Seeing yourself floating above your body has a way of occupying your attention.”

  “Indeed, boy. I have traveled so many times that it is hard to remember the wonder I felt the first time I entered the ethereal plane. It would be impossible for the one you call Red to travel freely without you as the link.”

  “So how did he get here the first time, then? If he comes from a different dimension.”

  “Different realm.” Ms. Bezi corrected. “And I said it would be impossible to travel freely, but I never said travel is impossible.”

  “Is he the reason why I can travel to the ethereal realm too?”

  “Our plane overlaps the ethereal. With training, you could learn to travel to the ethereal yourself. Many people do, and have done so for many, many years.”

  “Oh come on.”

  “You westerners call it astral projection.”

  Of course, I'd heard of astral projection. It was the type of thing I'd only ever associated with the crazy crystal meditators and hippie aura sensors.

  "But you did not travel to the ethereal plane, boy. It was I who brought you there when I pulled you from the nether."

  My eyes widened. “That was the nether. The place was beautiful, freeing…” My voice trailed off as I caught the look of slight disapproval on the old woman’s face.

  "That makes twice in one night I see something that I had never before. You are a damn fool, boy. It is a wonder that you survived at all. You have no idea of the dangers of that terrible place. The only reason why I went inside to get you, is because you crossed over in my home, and you being there left a way into our realm, which would have brought whatever entities that might have come through directly into this house. Trust me, do not ever go back there again.”

  My eyes began to tingle, and I slowly lowered the sack from my face, ready to place it back at the first sign of discomfort. Except, discomfort never came. In fact, the pain that was waiting on the edge of my consciousness fled back to the far recesses of my awareness at my first deep inhale.

  I turned my attention back to the old woman. “I didn’t travel there. I don’t even know how I got there.” I thought back to the feeling I had the first time I entered, back inside of the conference room. “Both times I’ve gone there were sudden and uncontrollable.”

  “Well, that answers the second biggest question I had for you. I may be able to help keep you grounded within our plane. Actually, it would serve two purposes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It will not only keep you grounded in our plane until you can sever the connection between you and your creature, Red, but it will also mask you from its awareness.”

  "Would you do that for me?"

  “Indeed, boy. I seek to do far more for you. All I ask is two things.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”

  “I am no swindler, boy. My tribe has a responsibility far greater than you could comprehend. There is nothing that you have worth me exploiting or extorting.”

  I stiffened. "I meant no offense, Ms. Bezi. I grew up with fast-talking hustlers, and now work with even worse."

  “I cannot say I blame you, boy. All these years in America, New York especially, has not dulled my shock about how you all treat one another. It is why I asked for any country but this one.” She sighed. “But that is likely why the tribe felt it necessary to send me here.”

  A faraway look came to her face, and she fell silent. It was the kind of silence that felt out of place for me to interrupt. I gave the old woman the time she needed for her thoughts.

  She blinked, and her white eyes darted back to me. "Anyway. The first thing you must do is be willing to rid yourself of the creature."

  I blinked. "Of course. All I've ever wanted was to be normal my entire life, even when I thought Red was nothing more than a figment of my mind. Please, tell me how."

  “In due time, boy. The second thing is the most important and will require the biggest commitment.”

  I frowned. "What is it?"

  “I am in the twilight of my life, boy, and have been pressured for many a season to train on an apprentice, but the bones have always said no—until now.”

  “Apprentice? I…what would I need to do?”

  “I cannot answer that until I have your answer.”

  “I’m not joining your religion, with all due respect, Ms. Bezi. Faith is something that cann—”

  “I said nothing of religion, boy. I have told you enough, I would like to think. I offer you freedom from your demon, knowledge of arts beyond anything you can imagine, safety from dangers you do not know yet exist, but are involved with nonetheless, and, perhaps most importantly to you at this stage, understanding of what you’ve experienced so far.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  The old woman nodded. “And so you must still choose. Now, for our time grows short, boy.”

  “Okay then.”

  Ms. Bezi smiled.

  “I’ll have to decline the offer.”

  The old woman’s smile melted into a stony scowl. “You are a fool, boy. A damned, fool.”

  “I came here looking for answers. Answers that you seem to have. But I am not willing to take a deal with hidden strings, especially when I’m dealing with unknown forces, as you say, more powerful than anything I can imagine.”

  A smile came to the edges of the old woman’s mouth. “A logical, if not flawed, conclusion. But you will learn, in time, should you live long enough, that sometimes it is better to trust the gut over your head.”

  “I don’t know what my gut is telling me right now.”

  “But even that says much, boy. When offered a choice of grave importance that is above your level of understanding, declining can be every bit as dangerous as accepting. So,” she reached into the folds of her robe, pulled another cloth-wrapped object free, and extended it out to me. “take it, boy. It is given to you freely, without terms.”

  “What is it?” I asked, keeping my arms at my sides.

  She pulled the bundle back towards herself and delicately unwrapped it before holding it in front of me.

  “Is that a…dagger?” I finally reached out and took it in my hand. “the blade is smooth and cylindrical?” I turned it over. “What’s it made out of…wood?”

  “That is both a weapon and a fetish of protection. The blade is the ebon horn of an ox, harvested moments before its life naturally expired. It has no edge because it's for impaling, for rending large wounds into flesh, not slicing. The handle is a section of the same beast’s femur, cut to the precise length of the horn after every bit of its flesh had been eaten and fully passed through the body. Both blade and handle are bound together by fire-hardened clay strong enough to endure the centuries since it was first crafted before it was passed down to my father."

  The dagger seemed to become more substantial after her explanation. I cupped my other hand underneath it. "Would you give this to me?"

  “No. I am lending it to you, boy, for one week, beginning after you’ve left here and are back on your feet. If at any time you change your mind, sleep with the weapon beside your head, under the glow of candlelight. Do this, and I will know you have accepted my offer. If by t
he end of a week's time you still refuse, simply do nothing, and I will come for it. In the meantime, enjoy its protection."

  “What’s with everyone’s obsession with knives. First the pale man, now this.”

  "Do not associate me with that one. Our interests may align when it comes to your demon, but that is where it ends." She sighed. "But time is of the essence. Will you accept this time I have given you to think about my offer?"

  “Alright then. I will think on it.”

  “A wise decision, boy. Now, it is time you be gone from here.” She held a closed fist to me, palm up, and uncurled her knobbed fingers. In her palm laid a small mound of black powder. I barely had a chance to focus on it when she blew the thick cloud into my face.

  I coughed and tried to move out of the oddly sweet smelling dust, but it was already too late. Darkness closed in on the edges of my vision, and instead of standing up like I had tried to do, my body slumped to the side, and I found myself flat on my back fighting to remain conscious.

  My body felt as though it was getting progressively heavier. Before long it was too much of an effort to even lift a limb. Another few panicked breaths later, and I no longer had the strength to open my eyes after blinking. The feeling of the hard ground beneath me went away, and eventually, even my breath became too difficult to force into my lungs.

  That point, feeling my lungs burning and every alarm in my body demanding me to breathe, to fight, to live, but being powerless to obey, even though every ounce of my will wanted nothing more, was the most terrified I'd ever been in my life, beyond learning a demon from another realm possessed me, beyond being staked to the ground by the religious zealot and then burned alive.

  As I laid there, straining with every ounce of my waning strength, it was finally my sense of self that began to fade. My last thought was the irony of how this could be the death of me after all I'd been through, and then my lungs filled with air. I would have been flailing about if I had control over my body, but my limbs were only just regaining sensation. By the time I had the strength to lift an arm the panic had passed and my breathing normalized. The light came last, in reverse of the way it had left—first as a point in the center of my closed lids, and then expanding out to my full field of view. I opened them and gasped as I looked around in a moment of disorientation. I was outside, sitting on a bench.