Red (2005 Bardic)

By: Skye Posted on: October 16, 2005

My sight fails me sometimes… more often than not, everything is a blur, and I rely on memory to aide me in what I am supposed to see. Yet the longer I delve into the inner sanctum of my mind and the things I've locked away, the more I remember, the more this suffering is justified…

---

So many years ago, ten, twenty, I have lost count; I shrouded myself in a veil of blood and a shield of scars. It was in this time, when my heart was frozen dead with the blind desire to serve, to obey the One of whom I called Lord and Master that I cast aside my beliefs of my previous life and bartered body, blood, even mind for services of demons. I enslaved many, and in turn, in a way was a slave to them, learning their secrets, catering to their demands. I trapped them within a void hidden under my home, where nobody might know of my personal quests for knowledge, yet I always heard them whispering, voices for my ears alone to hear.

~We hunger… Mistress…~ ~You would not desire us to starve… would you, Mistress?~ ~Would be a pity… if our desires take control… ~

I bought slaves, regularly for their feeding. Sometimes I butchered them sometimes I did not. Tiny children, four or five at a time… I purchased them cheaply. Money was not a problem. I brought them to the lair beneath the innocent looking structure of my home where my macabre servants lay in wait for their feeding, where my power and arcane symbols were not enough to contain them in their base frenzy.

Perhaps some wondered what more perverse desires I might have had leading them by the hand to my home. It was no secret that many thought me a woman of many vices; I hid my blackening soul behind foolish smiles and wild words. Why I did so, I cannot say, perhaps I was afraid of what I was becoming. I loved children, yet this was only one of the many sacrifices I made, others well, they are a part of my life but not this tale…

---

It happened one month, as I pored over my maps and tomes… I heard them calling again, caressing the back of my mind. They cajoled me, begging for another feeding, their voices a cacophonic union of need on the verge of hysteria. I had confined them too often, starved them too long.

~A girl this time Mistress… A pretty girl…~ ~We lust and ache… the children cannot sate us!~

Without much choice, I made my way to Gack once more. That grotesque face curved into an almost friendly grin. His ‘best customer' he said, no doubt he said that to all his clients. It was then I saw her.

I could not tell if she was Mhun, or Siren, or Tsol… she did not look the least bit human. She was bruised but fair, blood staining her cheek, her half-closed eyes cast down on the ground where she sat, collared, chained in rags that barely retained her modesty. Her hair was the colour of night, and her eyes the deepest red that seemed an antipode to my blue.

She did not look up as I gazed down at her, short as I was, in her crouched position I still somehow towered over her. Neither did she cower like the other slaves, or flinch when I asked how much she would cost. Gack said he would deliver her himself, washed and clean for use. Perhaps I really am a pervert, for everyone to think I took these slaves for… pleasure. I should have known better.

---

He brought her by evening, washed and dressed in a grey dress that must have been worn by countless other slaves. Her eyes were cast down as before. The slaver babbled at me some more, I did not care to listen, neither could I really hear, I could hear *their* voices, almost screaming, a tingle in my spine as they reached out from under the ground. I saw their clawed hands transparent as glass brush across that foolish man's ankles, hoping to pull him down. I shoved the gold into his hands and sent him on his way. There would have been trouble if they had taken him.

There alone with her, I hesitated. They hissed at me again, urging, almost ordering me to hurry. Again and again they pounded at my brain till their desires almost became my own. It hurt, almost horrified me how much I was changing… in that fleeting moment, I had wanted to taste her, ravage her, mutilate her, then tear her throat out and gorge on her blood and flesh…

~KILLherWANTherTEARherLIMBbyLIMBbyLIMB!~

I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her indoors where the wards would mute them somewhat. Inside, she seemed as cool as she had been at the slave market, standing by the doorway and unmoving. We remained that way for some time, unsure of what I should do, I did not want to give her up to those wretches so soon, and she seemingly aloof from the world.

Finally, I beckoned awkwardly her to kitchen with a curt "Come here" marveling at how cold my voice was now. When had I become so detached? She took two steps towards me, pausing, and then another and another, walking right into the table and tripping. Before I realized it, I was kneeling next to her, looking down at her only slightly ruffled expression. She looked up at me and past me, those sanguine eyes unfocused and unchanging. And I understood. That damn slaver had sold me a blind poppet and hoped that I would not realize till it was too late! I tamped down my sudden flared rage.

"So…" I started… "You can't see can you?"

"…No…"

~Give her to us…~

I walked wordlessly out of the house and did not return till the moon was high.

---

That night the demons fed well, harlots were as good as any other woman for them it seemed. Their screams reverberated from below, and I could hear the whores scratching at the doors and the hiss of satisfaction that felt more like bloody furrows in my skull but I affected to not notice as I fed the girl now perched on my kitchen counter. She ate like a mouse; I remember that, nibbles and bites so small as though she found the food distasteful.

"Why are you not afraid?" I demanded after some time.

"I do not think you want to kill me." She replied simply.

My hand encircled her throat easily; regardless of appearances, my dwarven strength would have been enough to crush her neck.

"Do you think I do not dare?"

"You would dare… if the need arises…"

Her fingers drifted up, deftly feeling my features. I willed myself not to flinch.

"What are you…"

"Why are you so sad?"

((Because this is all I have…))

"I am not."

"You grieve… I can feel the tears beneath your mask…"

((For what would I cry? When there is nothing to weep for…))

I hesitated again, my thoughts trapped by steely will to deny weakness. She continued to stroke my face, as though reading every last secret that lay buried within. It was disconcerting, the way she looked at me unseeing, her eyes on my face as her hands worked, yet not focussing. At that moment, I know not why, I took her, and claimed her, and kept her in my own way… perhaps if only to silence her, or drown out the indignant shrieks that echoed in my head when they realized what I had done, what I had deprived them.

"What is your name?" I whispered in the midst of my attentions

"…Lilium…"

Lilium… Lily… it did suit her - her paleness such a stark contrast to my tan, she did resemble the flowers. I hid her like my most secret treasure, where no one might see her or share her. I do not think she realised just how much hold she had on me…without trying, she compelled me to do things. The voices ceased, their hissing, cackling even the mingled sensations settled into a discontented quiet. And I spent my days this way, my cherished blossom by my side…

---

"What does red look like?" she asked me suddenly one day as I tended to a wound from my travels outside. My baalzadeen hovered nearby, numbing the pain. Most cringed at the sight of the beast but she sat next to him as easily as sitting next to a napping kitten.

I paused between cleaning the blood off, pondering a moment.

"I cannot describe it, Lilium, not that way. But…"

I pressed my bloody finger to the tip of her nose. At such proximity she could feel the sticky clamminess of the rapidly cooling liquid and easily smell the coppery scent, mingling with that of the lake outside and ever-present fog. She did not look like she understood, but she asked no further.

---

Infernus… Occulum…

The Lord commanded us to find it. His priests, myself included began the search at once tearing book after book apart in hopes of discovering its identity, or even better yet, its location. I had begun to neglect my flower… the desire to fulfil His wishes overriding all else. Night after night I spent, reading, investigating… till finally that fateful night…

---

I felt fingers brush along my side. I turned to face her, only to find she was still fast asleep between the sheets beside me.

~We know what you seek…*Mistress*…~

My lips curled to a snarl, having almost forgotten those that lurked beneath. I felt their presence rise up once more like a wave, stirring my sanity. They giggled…I giggled… and they crooned in my ear the delicious secrets I had neglected to pry from them, the Occulum… everything…

~We know where it is…~ ~All we want in return is very small…~ ~Won't the Master be pleased if you can bring Him what He wants?~ ~He must be obeyed!~ ~Just think the favours you will reap when you bring it to Him…~ ~Remember the Oath you swore before the tree!~ ~His will be yours and all that He desires you will deliver!~ ~Oh hurry, hurry, Mistress…~ ~He will not wait long!~ ~You must bring…~ ~What we want…~

"…Skye?"

~What He wants…~ ~All we ask…~

I turn. My hand clutching something, it feels… bony…

((…Daegger…))

~Present to Him on bended knee…~ ~Give us this, our tiny plea…~

I feel her palm on my cheek.

~Infernal Eye…~ ~...for…~ ~Your precious…~ ~GIRL!!~

It feels wet… so sticky… Clammy… Liquid so hot… Splattering over me… Why doesn't it stop? It burns like acid on my skin… the colour…

((…What does red look like?…))

The sight burns me blind… Copper… the stench of decay and life-giving water… They giggle again, the laughter escalating to delighted hoots and cheers. Am I laughing too? And then… silence, the feeling gone forever, the wards shattered beyond repair. I did not need to check to know they had fled completely.

My hazy vision clears… the flower vase on the table catching my eye. It drips down the curved petals, staining the white with brilliant… and under me…

((…I've done this before… back then… but he deserved it…))

---

Forgive me; sometimes memory feels more like the present than the past. I never did discover the whereabouts of the Occulum during that time, as history will tell you.

I see hazy red before void black and then to red tinged blurs. I often wonder if this is the Justice that has finally been dispensed upon me for what I had done to *her* or the vestiges of a vengeful curse left behind the demons that had escaped with their deceit. Either way… when I awaken from this dream, this will be but another locked memory, one that touches the present every so often. A fate I know I deserve, even if, when waking, I do not know why.