by Shawn Mackey
Vargrim and Delisius always spoke of the island’s inhabitants. The latter explained the best ways to kill them, and the former put these ways to use. Vargrim would report back with any new discoveries, as well as gifts from the area near my homeland. When he gave me a pink flower that brought back fond memories of my youth, the last of my fears faded. Vargrim was a savage and uncouth, but from that day forth, he was my beloved brother.
I gave him a jar of Sap as a gift, warning him repeatedly not to tell Delisius. He certainly heeded my warning, though he seemed puzzled by the present—not so much by the object itself as the actual giving. Since he could not eat or slay it, he almost seemed angered by the jar. Grudgingly, he told me he would keep it safe.
Vargrim returned some time later in an excited state. He explained that the Sap formed into a toad, which died in a matter of days. He understood the transformation because of Delisius. Its sudden death had shocked him; the prospect of life ending from something other than a blade was an alien concept. I shared his fear and, ready to accept punishment, we went to Delisius. His eyes went wide, but instead of a scolding, I was bombarded by questions. None of these pertained to my trespass, rather my knowledge of the Sap.
He always disposed of the substance right before the transformation, unless he planned to surgically inspect one of the creatures. They had not been kept alive long enough to age. Delisius obsessed over this for days and begged King Torgos for a chance to visit the island to study its inhabitants further. He had little use for further knowledge of the creatures, even mocked Delisius for showing fear toward such an inferior life-form. To die without being killed seemed absurd and laughable.
Vargrim continued to visit and bring gifts. Delisius gradually calmed despite his craving to study those creatures in their natural habitat. He forbade me to go into the basement. He didn’t need to tell me that the Sap spawn were down there.
And then one day, everything changed. One of the island’s creatures stood out from the rest. This one walked on two legs and spoke our language. It had the strength of one hundred soldiers and an unparalleled bestial vigor. Armies were left stationed outside the island, unable to decide what to do about the creature. Vargrim volunteered to fight it alone.
He rowed to the island with his wolf and eagle and returned the following night with a new friend. Vargrim announced his blood pact with the creature he called Lefnir. It wore the wolf’s head as a hat and the eagle’s talon around its neck, yet walked side by side with their former owner. Many thought Vargrim had been bewitched by Lefnir. Delisius confirmed that he was in control of his faculties.
I was one of the first to be introduced to Lefnir. Though I was far from a child at this point, I certainly cowered like one. His appearance seemed to encompass the very definition of the word monster. He removed the wolf’s head to reveal large bulging eyes and rows of thin fangs. His forked tongue rattled every time he talked in his strange manner of speech. It thoroughly disturbed me.
Lefnir noticed my fear and did everything in his power to agitate it. He ran one of his black claws gently across my shoulder in a way that visibly infuriated Delisius. The monster was my height and postured awkwardly. This made me feel safe, since it was two heads shorter than Vargrim, who spoke so proudly of his new friend that I would have been excited to meet him if not for his hideous appearance.
Delisius asked many questions concerning Lefnir, though they were always directed towards Vargrim. He hated the creatures on sight, even trembled a bit. Vargrim described their battle with remarkable detail. It had been so devastating that the entire island had been left barren. The creatures would soon return, but for the meantime, the Yod would know peace.
Shortly after all of this, I was finally permitted to leave the household and mingle with my peers. Sadly, they were cold and even resentful. I heard many whispers mocking me and my Sap. Not all were cruel, and I managed to rekindle a few of my old friendships. King Torgos seemed to take a liking to me and invited me to dine in his household.
The city surrounding the king’s estate was unlike anything I had ever seen. Delisius lived in the outskirts, and I soon understood his preference to seclusion. The population vastly exceeded the Kay’s. The lively atmosphere was dizzying to my senses. Many of the structures seemed far too large, even considering the amount of Yod. Every door and gateway was large enough for a behemoth.
This especially went for the king’s estate. The exterior was ancient, almost crumbling, yet the interior had been beautifully furnished. The countless rooms had been constructed in many styles, decorated with a vast array of artwork, from uncanny sculptures to paintings of strange landscapes. I was given a full tour of the library by Delisius and allowed entry at any time. I did not intend to take advantage of this privilege.
The dining hall was massive to the point of ludicrousness. At the time, I was awestruck, even a bit intimidated. The room was almost like visiting another world. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover the ceiling touched the clouds.
I was asked questions to the point of exhaustion. Torgos and his family were very kind, especially his wife, Enyet. She complimented my green eyes and gave me a necklace adorned with a beautiful emerald as a gift in honor of my first time in their estate. They wanted to know about my homeland, the Sap, and my life with Delisius. He watched nervously as I told them about the Sap, which seemed to amuse them to no end. We spoke of perhaps bringing more Kay to Yod in the hopes of finding more about the substance and strengthening the pact between both races. The idea of seeing a few of my kin initially excited me. Unfortunately, it was little more than wishful thinking. I explained the importance of providing the Sap to the island, and that it was best for the Kay to guard the forest. There was a strong chance of the inhabitants leaving their land and potentially invading new territories. Torgos merely shrugged at my response and commented that it was best left as the same, and that my presence was enough. This pleased me greatly.
I continued to deposit my Sap into jars. I kept one in my pocket at all times and was quick to return it to Delisius. I designated a wooded area that was rarely traveled as my private spot. The secrecy was embarrassing, and led to countless rumors, but it was better than making Sap in front of outsiders.
One day, as I was finishing up, I heard rustling leaves and a rough panting. I spun around in shock, and in my negligence a drop seeped into the dirt. I let out a shout and finished up. Lefnir’s hideous cackle echoed around me. He appeared behind me like an apparition and peered over my shoulder, his forked tongue dangling from his fanged maw in some sort of stupor. I clasped the jar and stepped away, but the wretch tripped me. I screeched as the Sap spilled all over my dress.
What came next left me frozen in such horror that I scarcely remember the event. Lefnir’s slithery tongue lapped up every drop of the Sap. His slaver drenched my flesh and left behind a stomach-turning stench. He seized my wrists and pinned me to the ground. I closed my eyes as his lips curled into a gruesome grin.
Within seconds, he was pulled off me. I opened my eyes to see Vargrim heave the beast over his shoulder, a scowl etched across his countenance. He tossed Lefnir onto the ground and uttered a dozen apologies. The monster licked its hands and cackled. According to Vargrim, he was not accustomed to our ways and meant no lasting harm.
I was afraid, but not hurt, so I accepted Vargrim’s apology and scolded Lefnir for his brutish behavior. The monster apologized in a sincere tone, remarking that my necklace had been what initially attracted him. Its glitter had a strange effect on his kind. It was a fair enough explanation, and the two left me to clean up any of the remaining Sap.
As I sealed the jar, something slimy tickled my feet and slipped between my toes. I watched a gray worm-like creature slide up my ankle and calf all the way up to my knee, where it curled into a ball. I watched in awe as the thing, which I immediately nicknamed Bug, lay still and snug. It had obviously spawned from the initial drop of Sap I spilled. Careful not to frighten the creature, I stroked
it with the tip of my pinky. It unrolled and wrapped itself around the finger, then slithered around my hand and rested in my palm.
I decided to keep Bug a secret from Delisius. I absolutely adored it, but my keeper would have most likely forbid me from keeping a pet. I thought Bug needed a companion, so I used another drop of Sap to make Pest. The two instantly became friends, entwining around each other for hours on end. Pest was smaller than Bug, so I pegged her as the female.
Lefnir caught me playing with my new friends and asked for one of his own. I complied, since he would have undoubtedly tattled on me. He gleefully skipped through the forest with his new pet, which he named Bug Junior. It pleased me that he found joy in something I had created.
At dinner that night, Delisius suddenly spat out a mouthful of soup. It was the first time I had ever heard him utter a curse. It was justified. A worm slithered down his chin and under his shirt. With a burst of uncharacteristic vigor, he flew from his chair and smacked around his chest, cursing with each strike. The worm fell from under his shirt and soon met the bottom of his heel.
Everyone present laughed heartily at his expense. Delisius shot me a glare that chilled me to the core. I knew he was going to suspend all of my privileges. Fear quickly turned to anger. It would be better to live in the woods than with one who would deprive me of Sap. I silently swore never to put the substance in one of those jars again.
When dinner was over, Delisius had either completely calmed or knew how to deal with me. He proposed that I keep a portion of the Sap, that the creatures spawned did not live long and were not harmful to the Yod. His only request was that I never let them leave the premises. It seemed fair, and I figured, with time, I would be able to do as I saw fit with my new friends.
One morning I woke to find Bug next to my pillow. He was utterly still, even when I poked him. Later that day, I found Pest on the floor. The poor thing would barely budge whenever I placed it on my palm. I woke the next day to find it as dead as Bug. I grieved for my friends the entire day and kept a little more Sap than usual to console myself. When I arrived home to prepare for dinner, I found Delisius pacing back and forth with his arms in the air.
He was angry again, and had no qualms lashing out. The house had been infested with hundreds of worms. In only a few days, Bug and Pest had made a nest under one of the floorboards. Their children grew to the size of their parents in a matter of hours and proceeded to devour the furniture and drive off the maids.
Vargrim poked his head out the doorway and shouted a bunch of inane nonsense. Delisius mentioned that if he had not been there to curb the horde’s growth, the house would have likely been reduced to nothing by now. Lefnir was there as well. Vargrim later commended him for sniffing out every nook and cranny the creatures had inhabited.
I could tell I was beginning to burden Delisius. He confessed his displeasure of our upcoming marriage, and I commended his honesty. Delisius wanted a child of his race. I knew for certain that even though he did care for me somewhat, he held a deep-seated disgust. My Sap and general nature was contemptible to him; the Kay were not too dissimilar from the island spawn in his eyes.
After the incident, many of my friends treated me with cold indifference. My Sap no longer amazed Torgos and his kin, leaving me mostly ignored at the dinner table. This did not matter for long; I found companionship in my creations. I named each and cared for them equally. In the little woods outside the Yod’s castle, I was queen of my own kingdom.
And I liked to think I was a fair ruler. I forbade reproduction by natural means. To enforce this law, I gave the transgressors to Lefnir as a snack. It kept him from tattling and taught my children a strict lesson. Unfortunately, this did not stop the worms from breeding with flies, and worse, toads breeding with snakes.
This method proved to be less fertile, so I allowed it, mostly out of sheer curiosity. There were rarely more than two or three eggs at a time. Most of the creatures that hatched died shortly. A winged worm tried to fly away, only to be eaten midflight by a hopping snake. These abominations, as Lefnir dubbed them, were a way to keep the population at a manageable level. They loved to eat.
Vargrim loathed all of my creations. In a fit of disgust, he once crushed a mouse in his palm. As the two of us grew, he had become less boorish and more phlegmatic, though beneath that cool exterior, I saw a raging storm. He longed for the day when the island would spawn more monsters. I almost wished for it, since it pained me to see him distressed.
One of the snakes hatched a rabbit with the fangs of a viper. I decided to give it to Vargrim as a pet, hopeful to see a bit of his old cheer. As the rabbit leapt toward him, he unsheathed his sword and cleaved it in two. His eyes were wide, almost maddened. He pursed his lips, and I expected either a growl or a chuckle. He merely sheathed his sword with a sigh.
Lefnir cooked the rabbit and joined us during dinner for the first time. The entire table refused to eat an animal, for it had been forbidden longer than the days of Yod. Their diet consisted of plain bread and bland-tasting green leaves. When Vargrim bit off a piece, he smiled and remarked that there was no shame in eating like wolves. Others joined in, and soon the entire table had their share. Lefnir made his presence desirable and ended a law that had existed for so long, no one remembered the reason for its creation.
Lefnir would prepare heaping amounts of meat once a week. These meals were prepared with delicious spices that stirred new tastes to those who dined in Yod’s hall. It became a staple of our diet and was soon eaten daily. Lefnir never revealed the secret of his preparation, though I saw him pick many of the herbs he used, even tasted a few. Like my Sap, it was our secret.
His cooking prowess made him a welcome addition to Yod’s table. He and Vargrim frequently made jests regarding his hideous appearance, which certainly helped the more sensitive adapt to his grotesqueness. I must admit, watching his waddling gait had become more humorous than dreadful. His grim humor and Vargrim’s adoration established Lefnir more of the Yod than the island’s spawn.
We had feasted on every animal, from pig to bear, fish to whale. Dinner had become more than a social gathering. The indulgence made many of us fat and content; the troubles of war and other petty squabbles were a distant memory. The Yod looked more inward and relished the present, rather than their past or future.
One day, Lefnir asked me to help him bring several flanks of meat too heavy to carry on his own. I thought it was strange, since he was much stronger than me, and the pieces were actually very light. It smelled tasty enough, so I complied. When we reached the hall, I realized I had forgotten to get changed and was quite dirty from traveling the woods. Lefnir preferred me this way and added that I would be late if I went all the way back home to change.
We all ate the meal in silence; our vigorous consumption was a testament to the delicious meat. I ate as ravenous as a wolf, my hair unkept and fingernails blackened by filth. This did not stop me from licking them clean to devour any last remnant of the food. When it was gone, our silent gaze demanded more of Lefnir. He shrugged and lamented that it was the only one of its kind. Torgos remarked that he wished Delisius were at dinner, though he did not like to indulge as much as the rest. Lefnir told him that Delisius was in fact there, just inside our bellies.
The entire hall erupted in screaming and weeping. Torgos stood, towering over the chuckling Lefnir, and seized the monster by the throat. He dragged him out of the hall, and once outside, tossed him so far that he landed back on his island. When Torgos returned, he sat back in his seat and commanded the hall’s silence.
A discussion regarding Lefnir’s punishment commenced. Before Torgos disposed of Lefnir, the creature confessed to the deed, but mentioned he had not killed Delisius. This meant that he had not committed murder, so exile was a possibility. Some were in favor of this, while others claimed the kingdom had become too soft if an outsider were permitted to dismember one of their own. Vargrim stood and announced that he would be the one to slay Lefnir if it were to be s
o. This seemed to seal the wretch’s fate.
I could not allow this to happen. The loss of Delisius had already left me devastated. Lefnir’s death would be too much. I explained to the audience that this was not a murder, nor was it even a jest. Lefnir and his kin were a species alien to us, as we were to him. Serving us Delisius was a gesture of exaltation. To punish such an act would be severely unjust. I explained the Kay’s practice of justice: a victim may enact justice only if she were to inflict equal punishment on herself as the wrongdoer. To punish a wrongdoer for an accidental wrong was a curse that lasted through generations.
I would have told the story of one of these curses, but judging the stares of my audience, they believed me. Sap, which they referred to as my magic, was real. This meant that our curses were, as well, which was enough to sway the voters to spare Lefnir. Torgos decided to allow him to stay, but forbade him from dining with us, deeming him little more than a highly intelligent animal.
Then we had to deal with the matter of Delisius. Torgos accompanied me back to the house to check on his condition. From miles away, we heard his painful cries with the utmost clarity. I wept at the noise, and wished I could turn back. The sight of my keeper was more frightening than his yelping. His head lie on his pillow, mouth wide and eyes agape, screaming loud enough to deafen. The sheets covering his body were soaked in blood, leaving the imprint of a skeletal frame.
Communication was impossible. Torgos tried to ask him of the pain, but Delisius responded with howling. Torgos procured a dagger from his inner pocket, inhaled a deep breath and mouthed an apology, then plunged the blade into the right eye of Delisius. The screams abruptly ceased. The dead head’s tongue dangled limply from its slack jaw.
Torgos took the remains and told me to prepare for the funeral. I wept as the maids cleaned me up and dressed me in the proper attire: a black dress and veil. All the way to the pyre on the hilltop, just outside the woods where I spent so much of my time, tears poured endlessly down my cheeks. One of the maids held a bucket under my chin because Kay tears were said to be a panacea.
