by Martha Woods
He considered me for another moment, took a deep breath, and at last cut to the chase. “I do not see in you what my brother sees. I don't profess to be clairvoyant, but I recognize in you part of the same spirit I once had in myself. I do not judge you for your actions. But I can see the remorse in you. The need to atone, whether what you did in the past was right or wrong. That part is not mine to say. Only that I see how you're feeling right now, because I know that feeling all too well. You would not defend your past as adamantly as my brother condemns it, if you believed your hands to be as clean as you say they are.”
I wanted to snap at him the way I'd snapped at Nol. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. To piss off and never to bother me again with his moralizing. But I knew that his words were true. That it wasn't his judgment I was now feeling, as I had felt Nol's. But rather, it was my own, and now I desperately needed to hear more from him. For him to tell me what to do. How I could alleviate this burden, which had been with me for so long that it was practically now a part of me. Which had, indeed, taken over more of me, swallowed up whatever else might ever have been there before.
Seeming again to read my thoughts like a book, Ynder continued, “What if there was a way to atone for the past? A way to undo the damage? The damage I see, as plain as day, whenever I look into your eyes...”
He was starting to freak me out, as well as irritate me, with the accuracy of his observations. I quickly cast my eyes to the ground, staring at my feet, my pulse pounding in my ears as I considered the grace being offered me– if, indeed, you wished to call it that.
“What do you want?” I asked, wishing he would just get to the point, instead of stringing me along like this, trying to wear me down and make me pliable.
“The Dark Ones,” he said, at last getting down to it, “are defeated, for now. But they remain far from destroyed. After Ryl's defeat, many of his men scattered, fleeing the land, and heading out west. From there they went in disparate directions, disorganized, and lacking in cohesion. They are, for the time being, a shadow of their former selves. It is comforting to think that cutting off the head of the beast will have proven sufficient to destroy it altogether. And it would be every bit as naive to truly believe that this is the case...”
I nodded at this, still on my guard, but having shared this same concern myself since Ryl's fall from power.
“Ryl had a number of zealous followers,” I said, “Some of them almost as bad as him, and all of them, I think, long having burned with a desire to run the show themselves whoever he was around. There was Muzo the Fire Lord, for instance. Tyrius the Mighty. Mordeos the Powerful. Nozoss, the Taker of Life...”
Ynder was smiling suddenly, and in spite of myself, I couldn't help but smile back at him.
“Say what you will about them, the Dark Ones really do know how to go all out when it comes to naming themselves...”
“That they do,” I said. “And I see why you would be worried about them. Ryl, as powerful as he was an individual, was largely as successful as he was due to his circle of followers. And if men such as these were to conspire together again, and attempt to take back the kingdom...”
I trailed off, because Ynder was now shaking his head. “Not all of them together. Not yet, anyway. Right now, we believe there are only pockets of resistance. Disparate, disconnected, which is how we prefer them to remain for as long as possible, until we have the chance to quash them. Fortunately, as passionate as all those men were to serve under Ryl, each one in his turn seems to have been passionate to take over the kingdom for themselves. In other words, now that Ryl is out of the way, they all want to take over his role for themselves, not realizing that their only possible recourse for overthrowing the Protectors would be to reunite their collective forces.”
“Yeah... Yeah that's probably true,” I said.
“That being said, I have to imagine, in time, that they will be forced to this conclusion, whether they like it or not. And in the meantime, though I strongly doubt that the kingdom might be overthrown by the Dark Ones' factions in their present state, there is still very much the potential for them to wreak unspeakable havoc upon the Protectors. And in our own vulnerability at this time, a terrified citizenry is about the last thing we need to achieve stability. That, I am hoping, is where you come into all of this.”
I gave the King a puzzled look, and he extended a hand out to me, clutching in it a folded-up sleeve of parchment.
“What is this?” I asked, taking it from him.
“This is a map,” said Ynder. “Nearby territories. Places our intelligence has gathered some of the remaining Dark Ones to have been spotted at, and some at which they've predicted them to seek refuge in the near to immediate future.”
“And... What is it you expect me to do with this?” I asked, staring at the circled locations in red ink, then lifting my eyes up to Ynder's again. The sudden seriousness of his gaze unnerved me, and I knew what he was going to ask me before the words even escaped his lips.
“Find the Dark Ones. Infiltrate them. Make them believe that you are on their side, as you made them believe for decades prior to Ryl's fall from power.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, staring at him. “They saw me fighting with you the day you overthrew him! They know I switched to your side!”
“Yes, which will make your defection all the more useful to them. You'll be able to share information with them. To let them know about the inner workings of the kingdom, it's weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Places where they can strike, and carry out their plans...”
I opened my mouth, stammered nonsensically for a moment, thinking this sounded a lot like a suicide mission. Finally I got out, “Do you seriously think that will work? Do you really think that they'll believe me?”
“They'll be desperate to believe you,” said Ynder. “Weak and scattered as they are, they'll be hungry for whatever help they can get, particularly if that help comes to them from the inside of the Kingdom itself. And anyway, you played your role well enough under Ryl for so long– a fact that you consider to be a weakness, a flaw in your character. And yet it is why I cannot judge you. Because in this case, that very same flaw could prove to be our greatest asset, in helping us to wipe out the tyranny of the Dark Ones once and for all. You can convince them that this was your plan all along. That once you knew Ryl was to be overthrown, you pretended to switch sides. To realign your loyalties. All in the service of gathering information, in order to strike back against us once the tide had settled, and our Kingdom's defenses were low once again.”
It felt like insanity. I shook my head at Ynder, staring at him with imploring eyes. Certain that there was no way this could work, and that even if it could, I was about the last person in the world to carry out the job.
“Man, you're asking an awful lot right now...”
“I am,” said Ynder, nodding. “And though I'm asking it for myself, and for the Kingdom at large, I'm asking a lot of you, for your own sake, Iammarth. You seek redemption for your past. Desperately you seek it. But redemption is not mine to give, nor is it anyone's. It is your own choice. And of course, you are more than free to refuse the task at hand. Though you would far and away be the best man for the job, I could nevertheless find someone else to take on the task, should you decide that this is not the path you wish your redemption to take.
“But I implore you, Iammarth, to consider this opportunity. I know, as well as anyone, what it's like. Not to be able to live with yourself. Not to be able to sleep at night. And then, at last, to turn it all around. To atone for the mistakes of your pasts, or at least to begin to. And I know, I know, that taking that first step can seem the most impossible thing in the world at the time. But for me, anyway, there simply came a time when I no longer had a choice. When the decision not to act, became as no decision at all to me. And indeed the choice to do what was right, to do what I needed to do, was one that very nearly destroyed me. And yet not a day goes by that I regret having taken that first step. I d
aresay that the same will be true for you. But only you can know. Only you can take that first step. Please, Iammarth. Fight for your kingdom. Reclaim the peace that has been lost to you for so long. It's never going to be easy. The most we can ever do is try...
I stared at him for a long time. Temples pounding. My throat burning. My emotions running high.
I turned away from him, hands curled into fists, praying he wasn't aware of the hot tears brimming in my eyes.
“I'll think about it,” I said, suddenly wanting him gone. To be back up in the treetops, furiously doing sit-ups until the muscles in my stomach had dissolved into gelatin.
“That's all I ask,” I heard him say patiently, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps. “But please. Let me know of your decision as soon as you possibly can. Time is of the utmost essence in this matter, and we cannot afford to delay.”
There were no goodbyes. Just the crunching of leaves becoming more and more distant, then vanishing altogether.
I stood there in the clearing, feeling hollow. At once relieved, yet wholly drained, wholly empty at his departure. I'd had to pretend like I wasn't fully interested. Like I might really say no, and that it would take me a few days or so to arrive at a decision.
But that wasn't really true.
Deep down, I knew I'd made my decision the moment the question was asked. Hell, before that– the moment the three brothers had approached through the woods. Or, honestly, further back still.
I think deep down I knew that this would come, and I knew what I would say, as far back as the day when I first raised a hand in resistance to Ryl and the Dark Ones, and my scales had lost their inky blackness, replaced by a long-lost golden gleam that had never felt earned, not to this very day.
Only by turning them black again could I ever hope to deserve this golden armor. Only by reclaiming the moniker of a Dark One, could I truly earn the name of the Protectors, which felt borrowed, stolen, up until now.
I only hoped that I was still strong enough to survive my attempt at redemption...
Keya
I'd always liked it out here. In the forest, I mean. There were, of course, so many reasons to begrudge the human race for what they'd all done to us. For what they'd been doing to us, for so many years. Driving us out of their presence. Forcing us into isolation, into obscurity, banishing us from society at the risk of death. It was not at all appropriate, I didn't think, to feel quite thankful for this subservience.
And yet, on some level, as deeply, as earnestly as I despised our oppressors, it was hard not to be grateful to them, at least on some very small, fundamental level. Left to our own devices, the society of dragon kind would invariably have ended up in much the same situation as the humans were. Holed up in concrete fortresses. Doing their best, and failing miserably, to live among the loud, constant insanity of everyday life. Life in overcrowded cities, populations strung out on drugs, turning everything they touched to shit.
Scarcely could I even begin to imagine myself in such a life. And yet, how could I deny, were it not for the humans, for the foes which I resisted every day of my life, with every fiber of my being, that would surely have been exactly where I ended up. They had taken plenty from me over the years, to be sure. From me, and from everyone I knew. I could never forgive them for what they'd taken from me. And yet for this one small gift, for liberation from the very insanity that drove them to their genocidal actions, I could not help but harbor some sense of deep, abiding gratitude. Gratitude for the gift itself, even if said gratitude could by no means be extended to its giver...
Calmly I sat upon the sun-dappled undergrowth. Bare, uncovered. Eyes closed. Letting the warm rays gently kiss my breasts as they rose and fell, washing me in a quiet, gentle calm. Washing away all the cares, the concerns that had so lately enveloped me. My concerns for the future, and the question of what future, if any, might still exist for me, provided the unfolding of recent events.
Washing away? No. That wasn't accurate.
The concerns were still there. I could feel them beneath the spirit. Bubbling up inside me. Threatening to spill over, to engulf me, the moment my concentration faltered. The moment the reality of the forest was once again overpowered by the far more convoluted fact of my existence, bringing me to a state that was nothing short of downright panic.
And so I did my best to hold such anxieties at bay. I doubled down my absorption of the woods and the renewing powers of distraction they held over me.
I closed my eyes a little bit tighter.
I took in a deep breath, then held it.
I listened to the steady hammering of my heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I listened to the sounds of the forest.
The gentle breeze, rustling the canopy of the trees overhead.
The crackling of leaves and of the forest floor all around me.
The scurrying and scampering of tiny woodland life. The fluttering of wings.
All the little animals in pursuit of such simpler existences than my own. Or, at least, they seemed to me simpler, in my present state of worry, even if it might be argued that their true realities were every bit as stressful, every bit as hazardous as my own.
But for the moment, that was enough.
Gradually, the corners of my mouth began to press upward in spite of themselves. Against all odds, I was smiling, I was free– within the confines of my own head, at least, if not quite in reality.
A warmth spread over me, a renewed certainty that somehow, I might still get through all of this with my heart and soul intact.
And then, all at once, the sound of a human scream rent the air, and the illusion of my serenity shattered.
Of course, I reminded myself. Such illusory peace of mind had never been, and could never truly be, for the likes of someone such as myself.
I shot up from the ground, my steadily thumping heart now racing like a bat out of hell. I thought I knew the source of the yells before I'd even come into close proximity to them, though I prayed, for once, that I might be mistaken.
It took several minutes of hurrying through the tangled woods before I emerged onto the scene. I stepped into a clearing, absently pulling the brambles from my streaked brown hair, and stood aghast, yet far from wholly surprised, at the sight of three massive, snarling black dragons, jerking their heads through the air, snapping their jaws, and tossing what very much appeared to be a ragdoll between the three of them. The ragdoll, I quickly inferred, was the source of the screaming. And though I had largely been expecting such a scene the moment I began to hear his yells echoing through the forest, I nevertheless found myself aghast, indignant at the cruelty I now saw before me.
“Mordeos!” I shouted, largely unintimidated by the three snarling beasts before me. “What is the meaning of this?” I addressed the largest of the three black dragons, though for a moment he took no notice of me, but continued to thrash his head around, tearing the human in his grip through the air, crimson spurts of blood occasionally flecking the undergrowth beneath him. “Mordeos!” I repeated more sternly, and he froze, like a dog that had just been caught in the unrepentant act of tearing up human furniture.
I leered up at him, my blue eyes gleaming with such contempt that I hoped it came across as more intimidating than the visage of a snarling black dragon. Whether he was truly intimidated by me or not (I doubted it,) he did at last spit the bloody man from his dripping, reddened jaws, letting him fall several feet through the air to the ground below. The man landed with a sickening thump, and immediately squeezed his limbs into a huddle in order to mitigate the risk of further attack, shivering pathetically in the undergrowth.
The black dragon advanced toward me, a low, mean growl emanating from the depths of his throat– moodiness, grumpiness, I knew, but no real threat to my being. I kept my eyes sternly on him, and slowly he transformed down, his black, reptilian body shrinking. The spikes and scales and wings all retreating into smooth, pale flesh. A head of flowing black hair settling gently
over his broad, bare shoulders, spilling over the inky black twists of tattoos across his chest and back. The only thing that seemed to remain constant about him were his glowing red eyes– eyes whose allure I had never been able to resist, but whose visage were beginning to annoy me more and more with each passing day spent in their company.
“Hey baby. Me and the guys were just having a little fun,” he said casually, a tone of annoyance to his voice directed at me, for the sin of having interrupted said fun. I looked over his shoulder, and saw that his two friends, Uzyss and Koa, still in their dragon forms, had stooped their heads to reclaim the poor bastard from the ground. One of them had him by the arm, and one by the leg, and they were pulling hard on him, as though endeavoring to tear him in half. I knew, or suspected, at least, that they would stop just short of doing so– knowing them as I did, they would be much too keen on prolonging their fun, and his suffering, for as long as they possibly could. Casually biting off a hand or a foot, on the other hand...
“Mordeos, what the hell?! Let him go, this instant!”
Mordeos raised an eyebrow at me, as though what I was now asking him was patently absurd.
“And why the hell should we do that? Let human scum like him roam through the forest freely, trespassing on the meager allotment of space his king has so graciously allowed us to exist on? He's trespassing on our land! What do you think he would do if the situation was reversed, hm? You know exactly what he would do! Or, perhaps, have you somehow forgotten what it was they did to– “
“We aren't them!” I thundered, hands curled into fists.
At this, he gave me his most incredulous look yet.
“Excuse me? I shudder to speak this my love, and surely I must be mistaken. But you are beginning to sound an awful lot like a Wrecker at the moment... Speaking of the rights of humans, the preservation of their dignity. When you know damn well that they would just as soon exterminate us should conditions allow them the possibility of doing so. If I didn't know better, my love, I would think that the events of the recent months had softened you to our cause...”
