Transcending Limitations

by Brian Wilkerson

  “Swallow one of these every night and the disease shall vanish in a fortnight.”

  “Thankee kindly, lady priestess,” the old man replied. “Thy presence has been a blessing to this poor village, made poorer by Muags the Hoarder.”

  Annala cocked her head. “Muags the Hoarder?”

  “Aye. The newest warlord and the greediest yet. With every turn of the sun, he demands everything from food to clothing to children. At this pace, we shall be lucky to starve in winter.”

  Annala turned to Eric and said, “Belco, we must help them, but we shall do so in accordance with the Way of Chaos. We shall only help so that they may help themselves and no longer need our help. I shall strengthen their minds and souls with chaotic wisdom and thou shall strengthen their bodies with Kasan discipline.”

  Eric didn’t say anything in reply. He was supposed to recite some lines about the warrior way, the taking of life, the process of growing strong, and how this all tied back into what Annala just said. However, he forgot all that. After a beat, he just nodded and walked off stage. The elven members of the audience laughed at his expense.

  Mist rushed in and this made them laugh harder. It looked as if it were covering Eric’s retreat! A second set of lights illuminated the muses standing on the edge of the stage and their hands were over their mouths. Before they began the next set of exposition, they needed a moment to compose themselves.

  “Stories of their exploits reached far and wide. From merchant to mucker and from soldier to slave, their renown spread. The people cheered them as heroes, but when their fame reached Muags the Hoarder, he only heard of a guarded jewel.”

  One snorted and this set the others off. Eric pounded his head against a wall backstage.

  A pair of giggling mages hanging above the stage blew away the smoke to reveal the next set, the throne room of Muags. Black dirt was replaced by grey stone and homes were replaced by pillars decorated in relief. Torches hung from the walls and cast shadows into corners of this lair of wretched villainy. The only thing higher than the throne were the piles of loot. Sitting there was the villain himself.

  For this role, Ralm shifted into an eight-foot-tall human with scaly skin and slit eyes. He wore elaborate silks made by his neighbor and was covered from head to toe in fake jewels.

  “A dragon of such horrible greed, he was exiled from his mountainous homeland,” the muses continued. “Even his fellow dragons were disgusted by his unrivaled avarice. As punishment for raiding their hoards, they sealed him within the form of a human and banished him. For years, he wandered alone and friendless until he pressed an army into service and built himself an empire.”

  An elf in the guise of a human peasant was pushed onstage by elves acting as human guards, one of them Nilo. Ralm stood up and towered over all three. With one hand, he heaved the peasant over his head and shook him upside down until everything from gold to a wooden carving dropped to the floor. Satisfied, Ralm took one more thing by pretending to dash his fellow actor’s head on the ground. On cue, his thugs dragged the body away.

  “In all of Muags’ vast hoard, there was one thing he lacked,” the muses proclaimed. “Though his wives could fill a village, he deemed none of them worthy of the title ‘Queen.’ It vexed him out of his mind and drove him to the ends of his empire in a search to sate his desire.”

  A shifty character appeared from stage right and slipped next to Ralm. They whispered in his ear and the greedy ruler’s eyes lit up.

  “Then he heard of a certain maiden, one not only skilled in medicine and gentle as the spring sun but surpassing in beauty. Best of all, she was a holy maiden who never aged; a treasure that would never rust. Once the tale was in his mind, it would not leave and a desire to possess the maiden as his own overcame all other lusts.”

  Smoke rose again to conceal the muses. Another wind spell blew it away, but not all of it disappeared. One area of the stage remained obscured and the sound of rushing water (from a backstage faucet) could be heard. Outside the smoke was a pool of water surrounded by stones, a patch of grass, and a crowd. These extras used cosmetics to look human.

  “Muags is a mighty warrior, but so is everyone here,” Annala said. “No one is born strong; strength must be developed through work and dedication. Thus the power of chaos can be wielded by anyone.”

  She raised her hand and this cued the SFX department. Typically, this sort of thing would be done by the actress herself, but in Annala’s case, it had to be someone else. This elf conjured a lightball and sent it to Annala’s outstretched palm. The actress took aim and the SFX mage fired it at a rock, which blew up.

  “I shall teach thee and thou shalt ascend to the first level of chaotic enlightenment.”

  “Then shall Muags be smote?” one villager asked.

  “No mortal can withstand the power of chaos unless they themselves wield this power for the source of all power is Lady Chaos. If you make contact with her essence and learn to use it, then nothing in all of Creation will stop you.”

  “You’re not speaking old-timey enough,” a second villager said.

  “What?” Annala said.

  The first villager smacked the second one.

  “Verily the wisdom of chaos has altered the patterns of thy speech,” this villager said, “and thus it is that—”

  A scream cut him off.

  Backstage, three elves clanged swords together and then a trio of the village’s soldiers back-pedaled, fighting two soldiers each. Their swords were enchanted to create sparks and “clang” when they struck each other, and in this way, they struggled all the way back to the pool. All three fell dead at Annala’s feet. In a fury, she stood up and shouted, “Curse you!”

  More SFX mages created a screen of light bolts and fired them upon the enemy soldiers. They all pratfell to their deaths. Then Annala knelt at the three allied soldiers and the SFX mages created a light show to signify resurrection. They rose to their knees and said, “Thank ye, lady priestess, for thy mercy and compassion.”

  “Tis nothing at all. Return to your homes and your families.”

  They did, and as soon as they were gone, five members of the crowd jumped Annala. Pinning her to the ground, they stuffed her mouth with a rag and bound her hands. Typically, they would also attach a fake slave collar, but in this case, the fox fur muffler was removed.

  “Thou art a fine jewel, lady priestess,” said a sixth villager. “Lord Muags shall reward our service in adding thee to his collection.”

  Eric dashed on stage and ran this one through. Actually, he slipped his sword in between the actor’s chest and arms, but the guy fell limp all the same. Then he fell on the other five.

  “Snakes!” he declared. “Infiltrators!”

  Three of them engaged him while the other two pulled Annala off stage. Though he succeeded in slaying all three, his precious maiden was gone. The warrior fell to his knees and howled his despair. The smoke of the pool rushed forwards and consumed the stage.

  “Release me, brute!” Annala screamed. “Thou shall not deny me liberty!”

  The smoke parted and Muags’ throne room reappeared. The tyrant watched smugly as his latest prize was dragged in. Though she wore the tiara of a queen, she also wore the fetters of a slave. Her dress looked the same as before, but it was actually a “battle damaged” version.

  “In good conscience, I cannot do that.” Ralm stood up leisurely and circled her with the air of an appraiser. “Delicate flowers belong in gardens where they can be protected and admired. Weeds are in the wild and these vile things stop at nothing in choking beauty.”

  Annala’s ex-boyfriend cupped her cheek and ran his fingers from the slave collar on her neck to her bare shoulder, then back again.

  “Your beautiful snowy skin is already tarnished with the dust and sun of travel; an ugly shade of brown. It would harm my sense of honor to allow a princess like yourself to live like a vagabond. If I picked you, then someone else might. Someone cruel and,” he licked his lips, “l
echerous. You shall be my wife today and mother of my heir tomorrow.”

  Annala bit his hand. She was supposed to merely gum it, but bitterness slipped in.

  “I will be a corpse before I am either of those!” she shouted with such passion Remho shed a tear. “Tyrant! My guardian carries a sword for three reasons: defending my life, his own, and ending the lives of those who threaten others! With three strikes, you will die!”

  She winced as he backhanded her. Normally, Arin’s actress would swing her head to the side while Muags’ actor motioned and someone backstage slapped a prop, but Remho changed the script this year. A genuine strike created a lovely bruise on his human star’s cheek and brought forth genuine tears.

  “You are a fool, maiden! You are to me as that statue; if it displeases me, then I may have it dismembered and beheaded. It is also within my power to keep it polished. I could have these ropes removed, exotic food brought out, spacious rooms prepared, dresses of elegant nature made. Every luxury this world has to offer me, I can offer you.”

  “You lie!” Annala declared, bravely staring him in the eyes. “There is only one thing in this world I desire and you cannot offer it. You may conquer a thousand nations and possess a thousand treasure hoards, but you can never conquer my heart nor buy my love!”

  “I shall have it!” Ralm roared.

  His passion made more than a few people murmur. Nilo, standing nearby, frowned.

  “I am Muags the Hoarder! If you will not give yourself willingly, then will I take you!” He grabbed her shoulders and she defiantly held his gaze. “Those eyes...so fiery...I will put them out with tears and I can think of no greater source than the blood of your so-called guardian.”

  The same actor who was killed by Ralm earlier ran out dressed as a soldier. He kowtowed and said, “My liege lord, Hoarder most supreme, Warlord who builds his throne with the bones of his enemies, I bring the greatest news for both you and your future bride.”

  Ralm waved his hand.

  “The warrior Belco approaches the palace gates with every member of the latest village of conquest flanking him! This man fights like no human I have ever seen! Every warrior accompanying him is like a wave of chaos! If your greatness will allow your servant to offer a loyal word of advice, perhaps the path of wisdom lies in returning—”

  Ralm kicked him; a cracking sound was made backstage and the actor pratfell.

  “Fool! Muags hoards! Let this above-average human come; I am more than human!”

  With a snap of his fingers, Annala was dragged to a pillar and bound to it. Her protests acted as Eric’s cue and he ran onstage with sword and shield drawn.

  Both were smeared with red dye. He left his cloak backstage and put on a second tunic that was artistically shredded to reveal his chest and the scars such as a veteran warrior would have. Remho the Director was inspired to make this addition after seeing Eric and Ralm’s duel and how much their girlfriends liked it. Judging by the increased attention in the female half of the audience, it was a good decision.

  “Tyrant! I have come for my heart! Return her and I may yet spare you-ye!”

  Ralm snapped. The two actors-playing-soldiers charged together but were dispatched by Eric’s shield and skillfully dropped to the ground.

  “For one soaked in blood, I now see the source; thine own heart! It already bleeds from within!” Ralm taunted. Claws grew on his fingers and a dragon’s tail sprouted from his rear. “Now I shall make it bleed from without and then both hearts will belong solely to me!”

  Ralm charged with claws raised. Eric stepped to the side and swung down on the wrist lunging for him. The resulting clash sounded like a metal blade on ring mail because that was what happened backstage. A brief duel commenced, choreographed, of course, by Remho. It involved much spinning and jumping and a number of other flashy moves for dramatic effect, but then Ralm dug his claws into Eric’s stomach.

  Caught unaware, Eric took it full force and screamed in pain. His blood stained his costume and then dripped to the stage floor. Ralm followed the gouge up with a headbutt strong enough to knock him out.

  Annala gaped in horror. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

  “I will do much worse before I am through!” Ralm declared and, with a theatrical gesture, he shouted, “Bring the cauldron!” The two actors Eric knocked out jumped up and ran off stage.

  Annala squirmed in her bonds. “This isn’t how we rehearsed!”

  “Rehearsed?” Ralm laughed evilly. “Did one of my minions hit you on the head?”

  “Remho! What’s going on!?”

  The director entered from stage right, across from Annala’s pillar, and floated towards the center. The actor playing the villain of his production ignored him. The other two actors returned, also from stage right, carrying a large pot painted gold. They pretended to ignore him so they wouldn’t bump into him. When Remho reached the center edge, he spread his arms and said, “Don’t worry, this is all part of the show.”

  “No, it’s not!” Annala shouted, squirming more frantically. “Master Eric’s in dan—” Remho snapped his fingers and a rag was pulled between her teeth. “—ger! Wmmg? MMMMRR!” She tossed her head in panic as it was knotted behind her head.

  “I assure you,” Remho said, “all you are seeing is in the script I prepared.”

  Annala thrashed, but the ropes held fast. She watched as the cauldron was placed at the center of the stage by the two guards. One dipped buckets of water into it and another placed pieces of wood underneath it.

  Eric lay motionless as his blood pooled around him. The drip and splash pattern drove Annala into a frenzy. She twisted and pulled until her delicate wrists were bleeding as well. Ralm lit the cauldron’s fire with authentic dragon breath. There could be no mistake; she could feel the heat from her prison!

  “Nmmmm! Plemmmm dmmmt!”

  She sobbed, the gag making her sound all the more pitiful.

  “Does someone need help?”

  Annala squeaked in surprise. Tasio appeared behind her pillar and curled to the front. She mewed beseechingly at him and jerked her head at Eric’s peril. He did nothing.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t understand you. You’ll have to speak up, young lady.”

  The two actors lifted Eric into the boiling cauldron. Annala bucked uselessly at the ropes and pushed on the gag, knowing neither would budge. Breaking down into unrestrained bawling, the audience was moved to sympathy by her authentic acting.

  “You’d better hurry. Muags is about to have himself a human stew.”

  Wriggling was all she could do. As a human, she could not hope to break the ropes. Even if she did, she could not hope to save Eric from his enemies. Even if she did all that, his injuries were too severe for non-magical remedies. It was a hopeless situation for them both.

  “By midnight, you’ll be Muags’ slave. What do you think about that?”

  Annala bristled. It was intolerable. She was Eric’s slave and Eric’s slave alone. Even if it were hopeless, she had to take action. The love in her heart inspired her to, and the collar on her neck compelled her to. She simply had to figure out a way to free herself.

  A long time ago, she remembered reading about escape artists. It had been a passing fancy, but perhaps it would work here. Focusing on the knowledge she retained, she remembered the context she framed it in: personal freedom. The concept stunned her. Why would a slave contemplate personal freedom?

  The thought triggered another memory. She was in such a situation months back, struggling with restraints put on her by a man who wished to enslave her. Even further back was another man, and this one she served much like Master Eric. He too restrained her and sought to abuse her. The thoughts repulsed her as much as the thought of this man enslaving her. Another question slithered into her mind: Why did she love being Eric’s slave if she hated being their slave?

  Love; she served him because she loved him, not the others. She wanted to be his slave. The words of the Priestess came back t
o her: “You are a slave by choice.” It truly was her choice to be his slave.

  The realization rattled her to her core. Eric did not choose her to be his slave. She chose him to be her master. It was her will that retained this aspect of their relationship, against the will of her supposed master. Initiative belonged to her, not him.

  The Breaker of Chains grinned as he watched the gears click in her mind.

  “Is there any way I can help?”

  Annala considered the floating and smiling trickster. The collar made her suspicious of him, and he validated these suspicions by refusing to save Eric on his own. It told her not to accept any “help” he offered, as it would only drive her to madness. It would cause her pain and misery. Yet, it also compelled her to save Eric. It could not allow her to become anyone else’s slave but Eric’s, and she could not be his slave if he were dead. This resulted in a paradox. Her mind blanked until it was resolved: if unsure, ask the master. If the master is unavailable, consider what the master would do.

  She nodded.

  “How so?”

  If he wouldn’t help directly, then he would help indirectly. For immediate results, she’d have to do it herself and, for that, she needed to escape the ropes. Combine the two and the solution was obvious.

  “Pmorr! Hmmp mmm bme ann elfmmm!”

  “Powder hemp eaf?”

  Annala shook her head and tried again. While Tasio repeatedly misunderstood her in comical fashion, Ralm added seasonings to his cauldron. As a last resort, Annala chewed the gag, and to her great surprise, it fell in three pieces.

  “I need your help to become an elf!”

  The Joyful Encourager smirked at her suddenly longer and sharper teeth. The collar released a trickle of her chaotic power to shapeshift them. It was compelled to do so because of the circumstances. A slave must do whatever is in their power to serve and protect their master; any circumstance where they may refuse to do either could lead to a philosophical rebellion. Slaves were not allowed metacognition for this reason and yet the circumstances required it for that same reason. A second paradox in as many minutes was shorting the collar out.