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sparkindarknessOk, this is rather angsty, definitely not shiny happy... I've really got to sort out whether I hate Camaalis or not... they're not making it easy.
Gah, there must be some way to fix this...
There was sound, a surprising amount really, but still the silence managed to echo. The wind blew hollowly over us, managing to pick up a few loose leaves, a few scattered debris and send them spinning off. The air blew through my hair, bud didn't do much. My hair wasn’t long enough. Darren’s hair always streamed in the wind, flying silk that danced wildly in the air.
Mia had offered to sing something. Something to mark the occasion. I asked if she had any song, knew of any music or had anywhere near the power necessary to even remotely mark this occasion in song. She hadn’t. No-one did. Only silence would play its dirge today.
“Rick...” Zara was cut off. I didn’t turn to see who had silenced her. Didn't even pause to think what she was about to say. I didn’t want to think what the medium could offer me, didn’t, couldn’t face that. I wouldn’t. Silence. I needed silence, precious silence. Silence of words, silence of the world. Silence of thought. If I didn’t think it, it wouldn’t be true. It isn’t true.
The spot was barren and cold. I wondered vaguely if the cold was out of season. I couldn’t remember what time of year it was. Was it supposed to be cold? No, I think it should be warm. I don’t think it will ever be truly warm again. It wasn’t barren either. Not totally. The earth was still raw, but there was a tree. The only marker for the spot, a tree. A thing of life and growth, a marker for the future... I think he would have liked that.
I wondered if I should call the spirits. I wondered if I should walk the paths that you should during such dark times, if I should pay the right homage, pay the right price, go through the proper forms. A shaman should always remember the spirit world, should always maintain chimminage, should never give offence. I didn’t think I could though. Here and now, I didn’t think I was a shaman. Was I even a person? I didn’t feel like one. Persons are supposed to have stuff inside them, right? Stuff like emotions? And thoughts, proper thoughts. I mean, thoughts are more than words aren’t they? They’re like full body pictures and mean loads of things. They’re not just empty words... they mean stuff. I’m sure they do. Or did. I didn’t remember... Memory, that was it as well, persons are supposed to have more memories, or clearer memories. And aren’t memories supposed to mean something? Isn’t everything supposed to mean something? I didn’t seem too worried about it though... should I be worried? I thought a human would be... but then I wasn’t sure if I was even thinking anymore.
“Rick?” Another voice. I recognised it. Kind of. It was all too hazy. English. Male. Educated. A face, yes, I remembered a face. Long black hair, smooth and silk like Darren’s. Not quite as long. I wondered if it would stream in the wind like Darren’s? I thought it would. I wanted to turn round to see. The wind was still blowing. But I didn’t seem to move. Eyes. Yes, the face had eyes. Deep, dark blue eyes. Drowning pools. Just like Darren’s. water at midnight in the deepest cave. Yes, his sister had the same eyes. I wondered if the face’s eyes were as deep. I remember them as being as deep. But could anything be as deep as Darren’s eyes were?
I remembered something else. Wood. A table leg. A long table leg. A strange thing. In some hands. Hands that belonged to the face... Liam. The face was Liam, with the face of the corsair and Darren’s eyes and Darren’s hair... And Darren’s table leg. The table leg was Darren’s?
No, the table leg went through Darren... Something moved. Not out there, it was still barren, but inside... Table leg in his hands through Darren. I thought he screamed... Did he scream? Another movement, something twisting, inside. Yes, it... hurt... I thought it hurt. Yes, he did scream... The table leg in his heart and the shine in his eyes died... those beautiful deep dark eyes. Just like his sister’s. Just like his cousin’s. Just like Liam’s. The wood through his heart, the shine that died, and Darren’s eyes, and Darren’s hair, holding the wood...
Something gave.
“Away.” Was that my voice? I couldn’t remember my voice, but I didn't think it sounded like that. My voice was warmer. It didn’t have edges. It was liquid and warm, not all hard and steel. Wasn’t it?
“Rick...”
Something broke.
“Away!” The voice hurt. Or was it full of hurt... it hurt. Yes, it hurt... more and more it hurt... I could feel it building, terrible pain... and, something else... anger?
“Please, Rick...”
Something shattered. It hurt more than anything I could remember - no, it was the remembering that hurt, the whole wash of it coming back to my broken mind. I knew what other was one - not anger, this was hate. Someone was going to fucking die for this.
“Away, Camaalis!” I was standing, I didn’t remember standing; it didn’t matter. It was the hate that mattered. Hate and the murderer who stood before me...
“I...” He had no chance to finish, my hate was too lost, too far gone. He started moving before it began, I thought it was that alone that saved him from utter destruction. The air tore. I felt it, knew what it was, the wall between the world and the spirit world was split, torn, gashed by hate and anger and pain. Oh fuck, so much pain... Spirits raged about, screaming in agony I could not contain, burning with fury that seemed endless... endless starving fury that seared and consumed and hungered.
Liam was gone, the knife he was carrying had fallen to the ground. The others had fled, nothing could survive the roiling turmoil of the colliding realms. It wasn’t it enough - it could never be enough! Fuck, I could crush all the realms together and it would never be enough, never reflect the pain! Never ease the hate!
I understood, oh fuck I understood him! I understood what it was to be hate and pain and death, to have nothing in you that wasn’t darkness. To be utterly consumed by it! I understood what Darren fought for so long...
Fuck them all! I wasn’t fighting this, they didn’t deserve me fighting it!
I grabbed the knife. Darren’s knife. I could see the silver ward wound round it that showed his wards had been repaired. I laughed then. Well, almost. What came out tore at my throat like claws, burning and scraping. I heard choked sobs as they wrenched themselves from my lips. Too late, just a few seconds more and he would have been saved. We would have been saved.
I looked at the tree. The only symbol to mark his rest. A thing of life, of magic and the earth. I thought it appropriate. It was. Camaalis revered life. Camaalis were the stewards of the world. Camaalis held the world’s magic. Camaalis were the avatars of power. Camaalis returned simply to nature and required only nature to hold them and see their passing. Darren was a Camaalis... it was fitting.
I plunged the knife into the tree. It stuck. Sap ran down from the deep wound. The flow quickene3d and darkened. the sap thinned and rippled, a thick, warm red. Blood gushed from the wounded tree, deep, dark, heart wood.
He was a Camaalis, but he was more than that. He was a creature of the darkness, who knew more about pain than the whole clan had learned over thousands of years. And that wasn't enough for them! They couldn’t stop it there! No, they hounded him, drove him, tortured him... and destroyed him.
I screamed, screamed in the middle of the maelstrom of raging spirits and torn worlds. “Look at this Camaalis! Look at it you fucked up bastards! Look at this knife in your fucking tree! Let everyone see it and see the pain and suffering! Let them know the truth about you! Let them see the blood and know that you killed one of your own! Let them see this shattered place and see what is behind Camaalis magic! I hope you look and suffer at least a tenth what we have! Do you hear me?! SUFFER YOU BASTARDS!”
I screamed the last as a curse, through as many spirits as I could behind it. It failed, collapsed pathetically, spent before it even began. They’d never suffer. They'd never pay, never. Bastards. They needed to suffer! They had to. Fuck, they had to. Please.
I screamed again, but it was a pitiful thing, wracked with sobbing and grief. I ran, ran to the only place I truly knew anymore. I passed through the ragged hole in wall between worlds and threw myself blindly into the realms of spirit.
******************************************************************************
I lay back in satisfaction, drawing my deep sapphire eyes away from the crystal and returning to the room. “A little dramatic, but he seems the excitable sort.”
Prisa’s eyes remained unfocused, but the gaze of the ancient was often directed far beyond the walls that most people saw. She nodded her aged head, a strange smile on her lips. “It was a good curse he called. Undisciplined, but powerful. Pointless of course, but I have to acknowledge the talent.”
Ieuan snorted, his unusual fiery ruby hair ran with sequined reflections as he leaned forwards. “If nothing else then, at least this whole debacle has shown that true power does still exist outside of Camaalis. Perhaps there is still hope, right Doyle?”
I tapped my lips as if in thought, one my more normal covering gestures. It would never do to let another know what I was really thinking. “While we live, there is hope. We are Camaalis - hope for the world will last as long as we do. When we die, the last hope of the world dies with us.” Everyone in the room nodded at this simple truth.
“Liam should be commended,” Ieuan said after a thought filled pause. “He achieved where too many have failed.”
Donald shifted angrily, shooting Ieuan an angry, but silent look. It was Prisa who answered, deep from her reverie. “He will not welcome it. The vengeance for his lost Triumvirate will be enough.”
There was another pause as everyone raised their glasses in silent toast to Liam’s terrible loss and in memory of the brave Camaalis who had fallen to end another threat to the world.
“Would that we had time to celebrate another threat removed, but sadly there is never enough time. The world calls, and ever, as always, Camaalis will answer. To protect, guide, and serve - Camaalis will answer.”
“Camaalis will answer,” they chanted as one simple conviction making their voices ring more than any passionate speech ever could.
Slowly the council dispersed, Ieuan pausing to help Prisa rise and guide her from the room. I turned my thoughts to the next challenge that faced my talents. The next problem that only a Camaalis could meet. It would be difficult... I lost myself in planning, the issue of the Sorcerer already forgotten and consigned to history.
Gah, there must be some way to fix this...
There was sound, a surprising amount really, but still the silence managed to echo. The wind blew hollowly over us, managing to pick up a few loose leaves, a few scattered debris and send them spinning off. The air blew through my hair, bud didn't do much. My hair wasn’t long enough. Darren’s hair always streamed in the wind, flying silk that danced wildly in the air.
Mia had offered to sing something. Something to mark the occasion. I asked if she had any song, knew of any music or had anywhere near the power necessary to even remotely mark this occasion in song. She hadn’t. No-one did. Only silence would play its dirge today.
“Rick...” Zara was cut off. I didn’t turn to see who had silenced her. Didn't even pause to think what she was about to say. I didn’t want to think what the medium could offer me, didn’t, couldn’t face that. I wouldn’t. Silence. I needed silence, precious silence. Silence of words, silence of the world. Silence of thought. If I didn’t think it, it wouldn’t be true. It isn’t true.
The spot was barren and cold. I wondered vaguely if the cold was out of season. I couldn’t remember what time of year it was. Was it supposed to be cold? No, I think it should be warm. I don’t think it will ever be truly warm again. It wasn’t barren either. Not totally. The earth was still raw, but there was a tree. The only marker for the spot, a tree. A thing of life and growth, a marker for the future... I think he would have liked that.
I wondered if I should call the spirits. I wondered if I should walk the paths that you should during such dark times, if I should pay the right homage, pay the right price, go through the proper forms. A shaman should always remember the spirit world, should always maintain chimminage, should never give offence. I didn’t think I could though. Here and now, I didn’t think I was a shaman. Was I even a person? I didn’t feel like one. Persons are supposed to have stuff inside them, right? Stuff like emotions? And thoughts, proper thoughts. I mean, thoughts are more than words aren’t they? They’re like full body pictures and mean loads of things. They’re not just empty words... they mean stuff. I’m sure they do. Or did. I didn’t remember... Memory, that was it as well, persons are supposed to have more memories, or clearer memories. And aren’t memories supposed to mean something? Isn’t everything supposed to mean something? I didn’t seem too worried about it though... should I be worried? I thought a human would be... but then I wasn’t sure if I was even thinking anymore.
“Rick?” Another voice. I recognised it. Kind of. It was all too hazy. English. Male. Educated. A face, yes, I remembered a face. Long black hair, smooth and silk like Darren’s. Not quite as long. I wondered if it would stream in the wind like Darren’s? I thought it would. I wanted to turn round to see. The wind was still blowing. But I didn’t seem to move. Eyes. Yes, the face had eyes. Deep, dark blue eyes. Drowning pools. Just like Darren’s. water at midnight in the deepest cave. Yes, his sister had the same eyes. I wondered if the face’s eyes were as deep. I remember them as being as deep. But could anything be as deep as Darren’s eyes were?
I remembered something else. Wood. A table leg. A long table leg. A strange thing. In some hands. Hands that belonged to the face... Liam. The face was Liam, with the face of the corsair and Darren’s eyes and Darren’s hair... And Darren’s table leg. The table leg was Darren’s?
No, the table leg went through Darren... Something moved. Not out there, it was still barren, but inside... Table leg in his hands through Darren. I thought he screamed... Did he scream? Another movement, something twisting, inside. Yes, it... hurt... I thought it hurt. Yes, he did scream... The table leg in his heart and the shine in his eyes died... those beautiful deep dark eyes. Just like his sister’s. Just like his cousin’s. Just like Liam’s. The wood through his heart, the shine that died, and Darren’s eyes, and Darren’s hair, holding the wood...
Something gave.
“Away.” Was that my voice? I couldn’t remember my voice, but I didn't think it sounded like that. My voice was warmer. It didn’t have edges. It was liquid and warm, not all hard and steel. Wasn’t it?
“Rick...”
Something broke.
“Away!” The voice hurt. Or was it full of hurt... it hurt. Yes, it hurt... more and more it hurt... I could feel it building, terrible pain... and, something else... anger?
“Please, Rick...”
Something shattered. It hurt more than anything I could remember - no, it was the remembering that hurt, the whole wash of it coming back to my broken mind. I knew what other was one - not anger, this was hate. Someone was going to fucking die for this.
“Away, Camaalis!” I was standing, I didn’t remember standing; it didn’t matter. It was the hate that mattered. Hate and the murderer who stood before me...
“I...” He had no chance to finish, my hate was too lost, too far gone. He started moving before it began, I thought it was that alone that saved him from utter destruction. The air tore. I felt it, knew what it was, the wall between the world and the spirit world was split, torn, gashed by hate and anger and pain. Oh fuck, so much pain... Spirits raged about, screaming in agony I could not contain, burning with fury that seemed endless... endless starving fury that seared and consumed and hungered.
Liam was gone, the knife he was carrying had fallen to the ground. The others had fled, nothing could survive the roiling turmoil of the colliding realms. It wasn’t it enough - it could never be enough! Fuck, I could crush all the realms together and it would never be enough, never reflect the pain! Never ease the hate!
I understood, oh fuck I understood him! I understood what it was to be hate and pain and death, to have nothing in you that wasn’t darkness. To be utterly consumed by it! I understood what Darren fought for so long...
Fuck them all! I wasn’t fighting this, they didn’t deserve me fighting it!
I grabbed the knife. Darren’s knife. I could see the silver ward wound round it that showed his wards had been repaired. I laughed then. Well, almost. What came out tore at my throat like claws, burning and scraping. I heard choked sobs as they wrenched themselves from my lips. Too late, just a few seconds more and he would have been saved. We would have been saved.
I looked at the tree. The only symbol to mark his rest. A thing of life, of magic and the earth. I thought it appropriate. It was. Camaalis revered life. Camaalis were the stewards of the world. Camaalis held the world’s magic. Camaalis were the avatars of power. Camaalis returned simply to nature and required only nature to hold them and see their passing. Darren was a Camaalis... it was fitting.
I plunged the knife into the tree. It stuck. Sap ran down from the deep wound. The flow quickene3d and darkened. the sap thinned and rippled, a thick, warm red. Blood gushed from the wounded tree, deep, dark, heart wood.
He was a Camaalis, but he was more than that. He was a creature of the darkness, who knew more about pain than the whole clan had learned over thousands of years. And that wasn't enough for them! They couldn’t stop it there! No, they hounded him, drove him, tortured him... and destroyed him.
I screamed, screamed in the middle of the maelstrom of raging spirits and torn worlds. “Look at this Camaalis! Look at it you fucked up bastards! Look at this knife in your fucking tree! Let everyone see it and see the pain and suffering! Let them know the truth about you! Let them see the blood and know that you killed one of your own! Let them see this shattered place and see what is behind Camaalis magic! I hope you look and suffer at least a tenth what we have! Do you hear me?! SUFFER YOU BASTARDS!”
I screamed the last as a curse, through as many spirits as I could behind it. It failed, collapsed pathetically, spent before it even began. They’d never suffer. They'd never pay, never. Bastards. They needed to suffer! They had to. Fuck, they had to. Please.
I screamed again, but it was a pitiful thing, wracked with sobbing and grief. I ran, ran to the only place I truly knew anymore. I passed through the ragged hole in wall between worlds and threw myself blindly into the realms of spirit.
******************************************************************************
I lay back in satisfaction, drawing my deep sapphire eyes away from the crystal and returning to the room. “A little dramatic, but he seems the excitable sort.”
Prisa’s eyes remained unfocused, but the gaze of the ancient was often directed far beyond the walls that most people saw. She nodded her aged head, a strange smile on her lips. “It was a good curse he called. Undisciplined, but powerful. Pointless of course, but I have to acknowledge the talent.”
Ieuan snorted, his unusual fiery ruby hair ran with sequined reflections as he leaned forwards. “If nothing else then, at least this whole debacle has shown that true power does still exist outside of Camaalis. Perhaps there is still hope, right Doyle?”
I tapped my lips as if in thought, one my more normal covering gestures. It would never do to let another know what I was really thinking. “While we live, there is hope. We are Camaalis - hope for the world will last as long as we do. When we die, the last hope of the world dies with us.” Everyone in the room nodded at this simple truth.
“Liam should be commended,” Ieuan said after a thought filled pause. “He achieved where too many have failed.”
Donald shifted angrily, shooting Ieuan an angry, but silent look. It was Prisa who answered, deep from her reverie. “He will not welcome it. The vengeance for his lost Triumvirate will be enough.”
There was another pause as everyone raised their glasses in silent toast to Liam’s terrible loss and in memory of the brave Camaalis who had fallen to end another threat to the world.
“Would that we had time to celebrate another threat removed, but sadly there is never enough time. The world calls, and ever, as always, Camaalis will answer. To protect, guide, and serve - Camaalis will answer.”
“Camaalis will answer,” they chanted as one simple conviction making their voices ring more than any passionate speech ever could.
Slowly the council dispersed, Ieuan pausing to help Prisa rise and guide her from the room. I turned my thoughts to the next challenge that faced my talents. The next problem that only a Camaalis could meet. It would be difficult... I lost myself in planning, the issue of the Sorcerer already forgotten and consigned to history.
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Re: *wince*
Date: 2004-08-26 03:20 pm (UTC)