by Shawn Mackey
Few grieved the passing of Delisius, and I knew he would not be missed by most. His unending quest for knowledge perturbed more than interested. It had very little practical use, and proved more aspects of life wrong rather than right, and offered nothing to alleviate those wrongs. Yet, he was one of the oldest of Yod, which deserved a certain amount of respect.
I cared deeply for Delisius. My very nature evoked disgust and abhorrence, yet he cared for me as though I was his own child. If I had learned one lesson from my keeper, it was that everything existed on their own terms, and by understanding these terms, one could find themselves a friend in the most barbaric of places.
I chose to befriend Lefnir. I felt a strange connection to the creature that was not purely mental or psychical—some kind of bond forged out of something not wholly affection. He had already crawled back from the island. I could feel his presence in the woods. Whether he lamented or jeered the distant pyre, I could not tell, but set off to find out.
He waited at our usual spot, poised in a crouch, as though he intended to pounce. I sat on a log and invited him to join me. We started a fire, and until morning, we told each other stories of our lives. I did not have much to say, for I left the Kay at an early age, so I added a few myths learned from Delisius. My few stories were still much more than Lefnir had to contribute.
His earliest memory was emerging from a dark cave into the moonlight. Its glow burned his eyes and awakened some nameless dread. Before this, he saw only vague shapes and experienced a never ending cycle of hunger and satiating that hunger. This new place was strange and alien, and any memories faded like dreams.
He had lived amongst the island’s inhabitants. While they may have hunted each other for food, they always ignored Lefnir. He mentioned the Sap sent by my people, and how it tasted much better than anything the island had to offer. He wanted to find out where the substance came from. Traveling across the lake was impossible because of the Yod’s presence. They were constantly sending men to kill the larger inhabitants.
Lefnir eventually decided to stop hiding and attack the soldiers. After dispatching a small army with ease, he fended off every attack from then until the coming of Vargrim. Their battle ended in a stalemate, though Vargrim says otherwise. Bored with his life on the island, Lefnir joined his new friend to live with the Yod.
I knew Lefnir did not lie to me, but I was certain he omitted much from the story. I doubted his memory was as foggy as he claimed. I wanted to know why he differed from the island’s spawn. He may not have known himself.
From that day on, I spent more time with Lefnir than any other. Rumors spread immediately. According to the gossip, I had Lefnir kill Delsius to put a stop to our marriage, and I had sinister intentions toward Torgos and his throne. The Kay were not to be trusted. I barely remembered my kin at this point and found myself chuckling at most of these accusations.
Lefnir was fascinated by the Sap. He would run his leathery tongue across my palm and suck my fingers for hours in a rapturous stupor. I thought this somewhat strange, but allowed him to do so because it pleased him. Whenever I made Sap after his suckling, it would secrete copiously and potently, springing more chimeric creatures from the ooze.
I was spending more time with Lefnir than Vargrim, who had become more and more morose. On many occasions, I would arrive in the woods at morning and find a few of my creations with cut throats or open bellies. Vargrim did this not out of spite, but to curb a savage impulse that only the elder Yod understood.
He and Lefnir often fought over the pettiest arguments. These bouts were near cataclysmic and resulted in the death of numerous bystanders. Vargrim was beyond punishment, for his great power would be needed when the island’s spawn returned. I almost felt bad for the creatures who would feel his wrath on that day.
As my Sap grew richer, so did the wood’s population. Vagrim kept this under control. I did not like to see my creations disemboweled, feasting on festering carrion, but it was better than my brother diverting his wrath towards the Yod. I understood the importance of his strength and his presence on the Yod’s morale.
The maids often whispered words of pity regarding Vargrim. They said deep inside him was something ancient, far more powerful than all the Yod’s soldiers combined. While many saw it as an immeasurable amount of strength, these women saw it as a sickness.
And then one morning, I arrived to find the entire population of my woods in ruins. Insects were all that remained, gorging themselves on the dead. Wracked with despair, I worked hard to repopulate the woods. The next day, not even the flies were spared. I continued this with iron resolve in the hopes that I would surpass his capacity for slaughter.
We ate heartily on those days. My creations filled the Yod’s bellies with an array of feasts and allowed the land’s natural population to flourish. With such an assortment of food, Torgos proudly announced there would be two more meals a day, breakfast and lunch. The kingdom grew fatter and more content with life.
As time passed, Lefnir’s speech became less coarse, though far from elegant. His wit turned more biting and pranks less harmful and more distressing. He was becoming more covetous and would steal a few of my creations each night to take as pets. Since I rarely saw them more than once or twice after, I doubt they lived long.
He stashed a handful of jewels under a dead trunk. I scolded him; since this was my territory and because they were mostly woman’s jewelry, I would likely be blamed. He merely snickered and tore the emerald from my neck. I chased him around the woods for hours, eventually giving up and deciding to let him keep it. He clearly valued it far more than I did, and it only brought back painful memories of my early days with Delisius.
Later that day, as he suckled my fingers, he stared at me in an especially strange way. In those bulbous black eyes, I saw a sense of longing. Seeing such a monstrous creature stricken with desire made my heart flutter and my hands pulse. My cheeks flushed a bright pink as his cold hands caressed my face.
Before I could grasp what was happening, sharp pangs of agony seized my entire head. Pain shot down my eye sockets, and though the lids were open, I could not see. I felt warm blood drench my face just before it went entirely numb. I clutched at the two gaping holes in my face, utterly blind, screaming as I comprehended what had occurred.
The nurses said if his claws had dug an inch deeper, they would have pierced my brain and left me dead. They tended to my wounds for days, and one of Delisius’s pupils watched over me at all times. His name was Jariah, and we had spent much time together as children. He told me many soothing stories of those days as he stitched my eyelids shut.
Nothing is more despairing than waking up blind. I dreamed so vividly, and as the memories of those shapes faded, there was only darkness. For the first few weeks, I often screamed until my voice gave out.
Vargrim came often and acted as though he were visiting casually; he waited nearly a month to acknowledge my blindness. He had spoken to Jariah about using one of his wolves as a way to guide me around. The beast was highly intelligent and understood our language. From merely speaking a location, he would guide me there in the shortest way possible and was strong enough to protect me from any danger.
Speaking of danger, I often sensed Lefnir peering through my window at night. Sometimes, I think I heard him chuckling. Whenever I would demand him to step out of the shadows, he leapt away. I asked Vargrim about him, but was never given an answer.
Jariah took care of my Sap. He had accompanied Delisius during his studies. He attempted to continue it, but lacked the expertise of his master and thought it futile, even dangerous. He agreed to allow me to use one of Vargrim’s wolves. Though my eyesight would never return, it was possible to adjust to the blindness.
He fastened a leash around my wrist and attached to the wolf’s collar. Vagrim did not overstate the beast’s intelligence. I merely spoke of where I wanted to go, and the leash pulled me in the most efficient direction. When I felt the leash slacken, I knew we
had reached the location. Jariah suggested I not wholly rely on the beast’s guidance; he said I should count the number of steps required from one place to another. I also took special notice of familiar smells and surfaces. For instance, I could recall the smooth surface of the tree stump I often rested at, and the certain rocky indentations where I had poured my Sap.
Adjusting to this new lifestyle took an immense amount of time and patience as I refined my weaker senses. In the past, I could have easily recalled only a few smells, such as certain meals and some plants. I soon found that everything had its own unique scent, no matter how subtle the differences.
Even when I did finally adjust, and returned to my normal routine, I dreadfully missed my eyesight. I longed to see many things again, as well as many I longed to see for the first time. It made me despair knowing that I could never look in the eyes of the fiercely loyal beast who guided my every step and never left my side. I came to love him more than my own kin.
The Yod were sympathetic to my plight, and often cursed Lefnir, who no longer appeared in daylight or in any of the populated areas. He spent a majority of his time at the edge of the woods, close enough that I could hear the clicking of his twisted talons and smell his fetid breath. I still challenged him to speak, but the wretch continued to flee.
When a certain amount of time passed, I was able to return to the Yod’s hall, and because of my age, I was granted a seat closer to the front of the table. My condition, along with the mystery surrounding my people and the Sap, garnered an immense amount of respect in the elder Yod. In jest, one the king’s sons closed his eyes and attempted to walk around the hall. His brother extended his foot and sent the other sprawling. The hall erupted with laughter. I joined in, though some of the whispers after the merriment left me perturbed. Many of the lesser Yod still held an intense hatred for the Kay and took pleasure in directing this hatred onto me.
These were the only times my faithful wolf left my side. He was given generous amounts to eat outside of the dining hall. Torgos complimented the beast, asking Vargrim if there were more like him; he was one of the pups from his former companion’s litter, and they were all reserved for war time. Wolves were scarce, and Torgos remarked that the kingdom would be stronger if their kind were to flourish.
The next day, as I was making Sap, my wolf let out a bark. There was no sense of danger, which its call usually meant, but urgency. Out from the pool of ooze crawled half a dozen puppies. The wolf barked and leapt excitedly and licked the little creatures clean. I told Vargrim that night, who took all but one of the animals in his care. The remaining wolf would be a mate to my guide.
Like all my other creations, these beasts did not live long. Fortunately, their spawn aged a bit slower and went on to successfully breed. My wolf’s pups followed their father around at all times, which earned me the nickname Wolf Mother. I found pleasure in accompanying the pack of wolves, but when they reached a certain age, Vargrim took them.
I spoke less and less with the Yod as time went on. Gossip spread faster and more frequently than usual. I was often the target. Whenever the weather was poor, it was my fault. Whenever two friends disagreed, I had bewitched them. Whenever an animal ate from a crop, it was one of my gluttonous spawn. Yet, these same people regarded me in reverence at the dining hall. I found sincerity in this sentiment, despite their petty rumors. I reminded them too much of the island—and the hideous creatures it produced.
Lefnir was rarely acknowledged. His name was considered blasphemous if spoken higher than a whisper. Rumor was that some had met with him in private, only to fall for one of his petty tricks. Some thought these were mere fables, and that Lefnir had either returned to the island or died. This was not true, for he met with Vargrim nearly every day. Lefnir’s old friend refused to acknowledge him publicly.
My woods were still a hunting ground; I often felt the entrails of a deer between my toes or slipped in a pool of blood. Though Vargrim had rewarded me with one of his wolves and general kindness, I grew tired of his wanton violence. The thin line between hunt and slaughter had been crossed on the day he befriended Lefnir. The wretched creature fed on their carrion and often spelt out messages addressed to me with their innards.
When he finally approached me, my wolf did not bark. Lefnir gently caressed its head and said that all of his kind obeyed him, and that it was only right the Wolf Mother should do the same. When I failed to respond, he severed the leash with a flick of a claw. The wolf ran off, and I never saw my friend again. Lefnir remarked that he was twice as strong and thrice as loyal as the wolf, if only I would accept his company.
The bond he formed with Vargrim had been forged in battle. This made it far stronger than blood ties. Because of this, Lefnir was untouchable. Despite mutilating my eyes and his endless pestering, I did not fear him. On the contrary, I sensed a strain in his breathing. No matter how confident his words, I knew he was afraid of my rejection.
I offered him a palm full of Sap. He eagerly lapped it up. Like my poor wolf, I caressed the leathery flesh around behind his ears. It was tough as a reptile’s, yet tiny patches of fur spread around his body. Like the twisted chimeras born from Sap, I felt a small, yet unshakable affection for this monstrosity. I knew for certain that this was not spurned from pity or admiration, nor was it maternal. Why did I crave Lefnir’s companionship?
The next day, a dark cloud spread over the kingdom of Yod, and thunderous cracks of lightning split trees and sent the children clutching their mother’s skirts. When I was blamed by the whispering commoners, I did not react indignantly, for it reflected my mood all too well.
Then came the day Vygore, the guardian between Kay and Yod territory, announced the return of the island’s spawn. He barged through the dining hall and claimed to have seen movement from the cave. While an army was assembled, Vagrim gathered Lefnir and set out to the island. Lefnir donned his wolf’s head and Vagrim wore the armor of his ancestors.
They lived on that island for a year. Soldiers often returned with grand stories of the pair’s valor. In an especially fierce battle, one of the creatures, a many-faced monstrosity that spoke a thousand different tongues, nearly slew Vargrim. Lefnir’s last-second intervention saved his partner and crippled the abomination. It had cowered in fear, uttering a thousand different screams at the sight of his foe. Lefnir chased it into the cave and returned with one of its heads.
The morbid memento was shipped to me as a gift. Its visage had shocked one of the older maids into an instant death. I sealed it away, grateful for the first time that I lacked the ability to see such a thing. Jariah managed the courage to peer into the box and did not speak for the rest of the day. The next morning, he muttered something about incineration. When I asked if I may touch it, he raised his voice to me for the first time and told me it was still alive.
I did not need to feign horror at the prospect, though it was dwarfed by my curiosity. Jariah stashed the box in the basement, where I had not been since my childhood. I defied him at the first opportunity and went down there while he was away. I moved around carefully, for there were all sorts of odd scents and tiny rumblings.
Lefnir had carved my name into the box. This had made it possible to discern from all the others. I tore the binding with my teeth and opened it up. At the risk of losing a few fingers, I held my breath and braced myself for an intense pain as I reached inside. No doubt something described by so many as hideous was equally dangerous.
The flesh was smooth and remarkably soft. I carefully felt what I assumed was the top. I did not apply much pressure, since it might disturb the creature. Judging by the hot breath that warmed my wrist, it was alive. I gently rolled my fingers downward and felt an even softer spot. The breathing increased, and I’m fairly certain I heard a faint grunt. I lifted my fingers away from the area so that they wouldn’t get nipped. There was a small indentation around to the left, and another at the exact place on the right. I assumed these two little holes were the ears, and the giant gelatinous b
all in the center was an eye.
A little below was an equally soft area, though moist and of a different substance. It fused with a much harder material, which caused me to draw my hand back once again. This had been wise. I heard it click its teeth together and let out some kind of gurgle. If I had gone an inch lower, it would have likely snipped off a finger.
I closed the box with a shudder. Later that night, Jariah told me he planned to dispose of the creature and that he knew I had tampered with the box. I joked that it had nearly cost me a hand. As I walked up the hill on my way home from dinner, I heard bloodcurdling cries from the house. The sound, combined with an acrid scent that overpowered my senses, caused me to collapse on my knees. I crawled back to my feet and continued to climb the hill. A pair of tiny hands seized me by the shoulders. One of the maids begged me to wait outside. I knew the source of the noise and pinched my nostrils to suppress the smell.
Jariah came running down the hill, babbling nonsense about doom. With some soothing words, I managed to get an explanation before he reached an entirely incoherent state. The head had been reduced to ashes. The screams were coming from the smoke.
I broke free of the maid’s grasp and ran for the house. I cannot explain why I knew how to get rid of the disembodied howling. It was more of a feeling than a coherent idea, turned to some sense of duty. The smoke would spread and meld with the sky, and its boundless pain would rain black nightmares like an endless storm. The smell had become so intense, my body was not only struggling to breathe, but seemed to need to stop breathing.
Fortunately, the hot furnace was open, the fire already extinguished. The acrid smoke still seared my flesh as I reached both hands inside. Sap poured from my palms and mingled with the ashes. The anguished screams halted, leaving my ears ringing from the sudden silence. I scooped every drop of the burning mush and held it in my hands. I felt the gelatinous goo wiggle around my palms, and before it could escape, I shoveled every drop of the scalding jelly down my throat and swallowed. I was seized by excruciating pain as it slid into my stomach. By some miracle, I crawled out of the house and back down the hill. A few of the maids still remained, and one rushed to my side. Jariah had seemed to calm after the screaming ceased and proceeded to ask countless questions to no one in particular. I told him the matter had been dealt with, and I needed to be taken to the island at once. The maids chattered to one another, forcing me to raise my voice with a tone of authority I always despised.
