9 Tales Told in the Dark 23

by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

  As if summoned, such a wail was heard on the wind and both princess and fairy glanced in the direction of the ghost like groan.

  “Like a father who hugs their dead boy’s body I held my wings in my hands as a hundred horrors hacked away at me.” Bave continued, “Staring at them my hands seemed sapped of all strength and that made me remember your father’s hands. How he brought the entire army to silence with just a wave of his hand. How he dismissed me from his sight with just his hand. How he ordered his men to burn the fields and harm the helpless of my homeland with just his hands. He had taken from me the very things that gave me prestige in the first place and so I will take away from him what gives him such power. I will take away his hands, the same way he took my wings from me. I ate my ala to save my blood if he wants to do the same than he will eat his hands before me.”

  He looked back to the princess, not to torment, but because she was trembling, not just with fear but with fury. Anger aiming her gaze on the lock of leaves that bound her hands. She struggled, perhaps as strongly as she ever had. However there was no human alive strong enough to break such bondage. Yet she struggled on so severely her wrists were about to snap. Before they broke, she stopped, breath booming out of her like a beast.

  “A whole arm….” she began but the sentence was slain before it was fully birthed. Because it was false, her father wouldn’t come with a whole army, not because he wouldn’t want to save her but because he wouldn’t want a whole army to starve searching for her. The fangs of frost liked the taste of human flesh as much as fairy flesh. Not to mention there was no food to forage. This Bave clearly knew the terrain well, he could use its wrath to wipe out whatever force her father could field. He knew how to hide in it, more importantly, he knew how to hide her within it. She knew then, like one knows a knife is stuck in their stomach, how perfect his plan was, how neither strength or sharp words would change her circumstance. So she simply stared into the fire, hoping the heat would burn the bad thoughts away.

  Bave stared for several seconds but she would not look at him, even when he said, “I am sorry Princess, I never wanted to get you involved in this. But I never wanted to see my lands being ravaged, my own blackened wings in my hands, my people perish. Just like I never wanted your father to break his word. What I want and what I must do, rarely have been one and the same. I will make sure the fire burns brightly until morning, until your father arrives.” To this the princess said nothing, she did nothing but stare at the flames. She had heard his words, in the same way one hears the wind through the grass, more important things were grasping her attention now.

  Bave stood and she still didn’t look at him and somehow it felt wrong to be lurking over her and so Bave left the chasm. He didn’t go far, just far enough that his shadow wouldn’t be swallowing her, but close enough that he could see the flames. He dropped down into the 448th chasm and collapsed there, sucking out the poison had sapped his strength. He hadn’t lied to her, he didn’t want any of this, it was a terrible thing he had done and it was a terrible thing he was going to force the king to do. But a terrible thing had happened to him and his people, he couldn’t forget that. He hated harming others, he hated the sight of blood, but hatred was all he had left.

  Before morning came Bave only returned to the 447th chasm once, when the wall of fire had begun to fall and the cold had begun to claim the chasm. Yet another thing Bave hated was claiming timber from the few trees, what little warmth they could provide was for his people, those few who remained in this winter wasteland. But the princess would perish without such warmth and he had no desire to see her die. His hatred was forged by her father, the king alone would suffer.

  The princess had succumbed to slumber before Bave had returned to the chasm, once the fire was forged, he only stared for a few seconds, wondering if the woman was dreaming of better days. He knew every time he slumbered in this place, his dreams were filled with nothing but visions of better days. Each time he would wake, he would suffer in the seconds it took to realize it was just a dream. Those seconds soon had become specters to him, taunting him with everything he had lost.

  By the time the sun slithered from the horizon, the heat remained in the chasm but the flames were finished, their smoke being sucked up by the whirling winds. With the sun now up there would be enough warmth to keep the princess alive. Yet it would be cold enough for the king to devour his hands without dying, his blood would freeze, much in the same way Bave’s blood froze when he was carried to this corpse of a country. Bave didn’t want the king dead, he wanted the king to have to live as he had without the pieces of himself that gave him so much prestige and power.

  Bave soon stood where the road met the mountain, the chasms stretching out in all directions behind him. He had heard the wind whistling, carrying not the wails of his kind, but the galloping of great horses. Someone was heading towards him. It was the first and only time since coming to this place that he wanted to see the human king again. The ghost-glass of the red sphere had reached its destination the night before and the king himself was coming. The king knew it would be a waste to wield and army here in this hell of winter and wind. The cold would kill them off better than Bave ever could, the king had known that long before he had exiled Bave and his brethren to this barren.

  It was that thought that both ravaged and reinvigorated Bave as the sounds of galloping hooves were joined by the sight of galloping horses. The king was amongst the riders and though he had been helpless in choosing to come here, he had come prepared. He indeed hadn’t brought an army with him, but four men, the tallest men Bave had ever seen. They towered upon their horses, armor as thick as bricks, swords as long as lances, their faces hidden by fortified helmets. These were the same kind of men who the king had brought with him the second time he had come to Bave’s homeland. Men strong enough to wield steel thick enough to cut through a fairy’s face. The king, positioned in the center of these four brutes looked small compared to them, like they were pillars holding up the sky above him, keeping him safe from being crushed by the clouds. The king wore similar armor to the men who escorted him, save for the precious stones that sealed his armor and the great crown that conquered his brow. Bave could not see the king’s face, nor could he see his hands, they were hidden by gloves, solid shining steel protected them from the cold. But not the steel on his hands or the 4 towering men would save him today.

  When the king and his men began to slow Bave knew they could see him, but he did not speak, he didn’t even move. The past’s poison was beginning to paralyze him. The king and his men, who had undoubtedly seen the abandoned carriage of the princess further down the road, crept rather than rushed forward as now there was nothing between them and Bave but a patch of road.

  “That’s far enough!” Bave forced out, his call cascading all through out each chasm, like ripples in a wave. If the king and his men weren’t staring right at Bave, they would have no idea where such sounds started. Even if the princess awoke and began calling out, the endless echo of the chasms would offer no clue to her whereabouts, Bave had planned well indeed.

  The king stopped his horse and rose his right hand, just as he had done all those ago and just like all those years ago, his men followed his command and stopped. It was enough to heat the hatred inside of Bave giving him strength to move slowly, closer to the king and his men. Even still the past’s poison was potent and as Bave moved the mist from the horses nostrils seemed slithering, like a cloud was beginning to conceal the king and his men. While the past poisoned him, it also powered him and Bave kept walking until he reached a distance identical to the distance that he had last spoken to the king. He didn’t concern himself with the four giant knights, even though the four of them were far more formidable than the 6 he had killed the night prior. He concerned himself only with the king, the king with cruel hands and worthless words. Each second felt sluggish as if stretched by some kind of sorcery. Bave had waited for this moment for far too long to the point thoughts l
urked in his mouth and mind, but none were expressed. The king’s eyes were still strong, like sapphires and even with the helmet hiding his face, his eyes shone as strong as the sun. Bave felt so small then, so sapped of strength, sitting on his horse the king looked like he was sitting on a throne, the same portable throne he had sat on and watched as Bave bit into his own wings.

  “King Bave,” the king said, his voice sap like. It was more withered since the last time Bave had heard it, but no less strong.

  “Gendell,” Bave replied bitterly, it was a small step forward in summoning strength, the small victory loosening the lips of the past for he refused to call this man king. Gendell didn’t seem to grieve the lack of respect, but simply stared waiting for Bave to speak. Yet he did not, all words seemed sucked from his mouth, he had wanted to say so many things to Gendell, things that would fill the human king with fear, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His hand moved to his waist and as he had hoped the king watched as Bave brushed his fingers across the black paddles that fell from his waist. They were once his wings, when they turned black and broke away from his back, he couldn’t abandoned them, even if they would never flutter again. The king seemed to recognize what they were as remembrance ravaged him.

  As the king’s eyes rose they shone like steel rather than sapphires. “Where is my daughter?” the king asked, half-pleading, half-demanding. While his speech was strong, his words were the weakest Bave had ever heard from him.

  “Somewhere safe for now,” Bave answered, his gritted teeth making his words a growl. Gendell glanced away, his sapphire eyes searching the winter wasteland, hoping none of the chasms would be his daughter’s coffin. His eyes were slow in their search but quick in staring back at Bave.

  “Tell me where she is King Bave and you have my word that you will not be harmed.”

  Bave then breathed, harder than he ever had, his teeth clenching down so hard on each other they began creaking. But his breaths boomed the loudest, lurking out of his mouth like hungry wolves out of the woods. His whole body bristled, every muscle moving like a constrictor as his eyes burned brighter than the sun.

  “Your word!” Bave snarled and all five horses took a step back. “Your word!” he repeated, his words like hurricane wind. His head then lowered in the same way a wolf’s did when it had finally found food. “You dare offer this to me a second time?” he asked, his fists forming like the heads of flails. “You didn’t keep your word to me! The only thing this land you forsook my kind and I to had was freedom from humans. Yet they come, they come where they don’t belong, just like you once came to where you didn’t belong!” the muscles in his legs tightened, straightening and sending strength into the ground like a spear into a stomach. Even the snow fell away from his feet as if it too was afraid of his anger.

  Remembrance raided all other thought from his mind as he stared at Gendell’s eyes, memory molded his vision and he could see past the face plate, to the king’s face, the same face of the man whose eyes descended upon him when he destroyed his wings on that dark day. In that moment he wanted to gore Gendell, gut him from groin to grin.

  “You…broke…your…word…to…me!” Bave bellowed and the scream he summoned was a slaughtering symphony that stampeded across the snow, the sky, and everything in between. The ground shook, the chasms trembled as the horses tried to heave their riders from their backs. He didn’t just sound like a monster now, he was a monster, one the whole world feared. His scream then went silent before Bave began to breathe again, the inhales and exhales so intense that snow actually rose from the ground, trapped in the typhoon of his breath before falling again likes waves upon a shore.

  Somehow, Gendell and his guards had managed to keep their horses from hurrying away, but now they each trembled, their gazes trapped onto his. It was revenge and revenge alone that had restored Bave to some sense of himself. Gendell didn’t deserve to be gutted, that would kill him too quickly. He had to live a long languid life, just as Bave had to.

  “Remove your gauntlets Gendell!” Bave growled, the decimals the deadliest thing the king had ever heard. “Do it!” Bave demanded. “Or I will gut your only girl and bathe in her blood!” The beast Bave had become wouldn’t be tamed and now Bave’s blood felt ready to explode. Gendell said nothing as he quickly undid the latches on his gauntlet, the cold air making it sound like breaking bones. Waves of snow continued to rise and fall as Gendell removed the gauntlet and when steel no longer covered his hand the sea of snow calmed, as Bave’s breathing vanished.

  Bave stared at the hand as if it was the sun, narrowing his eyes as the sight stung him. The hand Gendell had revealed was incomplete, most of the first finger and a fourth of the third was missing. Mauled off, bitten by something that had turned the missing pieces pitch black. Bave was sure of it, he had stared at his own frost bitten wings long enough to know what had cut the missing pieces from Gendell’s fingers.

  Bave now felt frozen, his boiling blood gone cold as he watched Gendell get down from his horse. It was strange, almost as strange as the missing fingers, for Gendell’s descent wasn’t graceful, his whole body shook as if struggling to find the strength to get out of the saddle. When his feet touched the ground Gendell paused, leaning on his horse as if the small descent had done him harm. Gendell then stepped until there was only several feet between him and Bave.

  Bave remained breathless bewildered by Gendell’s blizzard bit hand. Bave’s bewilderment only burned brighter as Gendell removed his helmet, revealing his face. Remnants of remembrance could be seen, but only Remnants. Only Gendell’s eyes had remained the same, the rest of him had changed. His once strong jaw line had shriveled. His high cheeks descended in droops, his dark hair, formerly brown and brilliant was now like iron, faded and forgotten. Youth was nothing to Gendell now but a memory as clear as mist. With his hatred harnessed, Bave thought clearer and counted the years since he had yielded to this human, the realization that he had been in this waste for 5 decaying decades was hard to handle.

  The fairy king felt faint and senseless at such a sight. Bave could only look away from Gendell’s eyes as the human king rose his frost bitten fingers. “I never broke my word to you King Bave,” Gendell said with a soft slowness. “Not even when my castle became so cold, my fingers turned black.” Bave continued looking at Gendell’s hand, even though he did not doubt why the fingers were missing, accepting such a sight still wasn’t easy.

  Bave finally focused on Gendell’s eyes again, the eyes were the same, the voice wasn’t all too different either. But Gendell’s body was broken and blemished, like rust on a cage, though the prisoner inside seemed the same.

  “Your people come to this land and cut down trees,” Bave stated without strength, bewilderment beating him.

  “Not with my blessing or my word they didn’t.” Bave searched the sapphires Gendell saw through, he could see many things within their shine, but a lie couldn’t be counted amongst them. “The cold is a greater killer than a king could ever be,” Gendell stated, still keeping his hand raised like a sign nailed into the ground. “That is a truth I learned long ago. The King’s command is only good when people are pleased by it. When they aren’t, they defy it. We like to believe that the hierarchy writes history, but it doesn’t, those who want to read it write history and they only ever want to read what pleases them, the truth can be a thorn in one’s side, so most simply remove the thorn instead of suffer its sting.”

  Like a bush bristling against his leg, Bave felt the memory of the Princess’ book, the one that claimed fairies were tiny and tinkering.

  “I never wanted to invade your lands King Bave,” Gendell continued. “But the people wanted new lands to settle in.”

  “They wouldn’t have wanted that unless you drove them from their own lands in the first place,” Bave battled back.

  “My people are the ones who drove me into those lands in the first place and those who owned those lands fell into the fold and became a part of the kingdom,�
� Gendell replied, barely blinking.

  “When my father ruled, life for my people was fair, just fair, not full of fortunes. But at least people didn’t starve under his rule, the sick were medicated, people lived longer, long enough to see their grandchildren become adults. But that created a whole new problem, a pulse in population and a place to put everyone. No one wanted to have to wander from town to town looking for a barn to use as a bed, they wanted their own beds, their own roofs. They wanted my father to go to war to increase his territory. My father refused, not wanting to see his people killed in these attempts and so because of his refusal he was killed.”

  Bave blinked, slow enough for Gendell to know his words were wearing on the Fairy King. “That is never mentioned in their history books, but it is the truth. Because my father defied the will of his people, he perished. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I had to keep them satisfied.”