Chapter 8.3: The sacrifice of innocence - Part III.
THIS IS A MATURE VERSION!
What can you expect from a mature version: More detailed descriptions of dark, possibly violent acts, places, and concepts; More blood, sometimes gore; Better character development; Other mature things unrelated to sex. I won't be doing detailed sex, if any at all.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
The cell smelled like hopelessness.
I lay there on the ground, my motionless form blending in with rotting hay and moss-covered stone. I knew it wasn’t the best place to lay, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My head hurt like all hell, and yet still the physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt.
Another whimper echoed around the hollow room. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was me. My mind was detached from my mortal shell, wandering in places that I’ve been forced to visit.
“Paul…”
The ground and hay beneath my face were soaking wet.
Something touched my shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“I am here,” a voice echoed.
“I’m sorry…” I whimpered in reply.
“I know,” he soothed as he kneeled near me.
The memories, or at least I thought those were memories, felt almost too alien to be real. They still lingered vividly behind my closed eyes, repeating in an infinite loop of terrifying scenes. And with each scene, the headache became worse, until finally the pain drained all my remaining strength and I fell into blissful unconsciousness once again.
Find me.
That’s what it said, whatever it was; it did something, too. My head hurt as if I’ve been hit, but when I located the spot at the back of my head, there was nothing. No lump, no dried blood, nothing.
I also noticed something peculiar. The cell looked almost exactly like the one in my… first dream. There was the hay, the mildew and the bars. Except that they weren’t wide enough to let me squeeze through them.
Also, Paul was with me in the cell. Right now, he was sound asleep on a pile of hay near where I was sleeping just a moment ago.
In front of the cell, there were two bowls filled with something, and two mugs filled with a dark liquid. In one corner there was a bucket; the floor was littered with hay, but that was all there was.
So I went to pick up the bowls and mugs, just small enough to squeeze through the bars, and threw them in the bucket. I’ve read enough books to know that the “water” and “food” were filled with a bazillion types of poison.
My stomach didn’t approve with the wasting of something that it could use, but there wasn’t much choice. It rumbled loudly and fiercely, letting me know just how much it hated me.
Keep on dreaming, stomach, keep on dreaming.
Maybe the food and drink wasn’t poisoned after all, maybe it was just me being paranoid. But was I willing to risk that? The answer already lay at the bottom of that rusty bucket.
Now that my body wouldn’t be overburdened by necessary nutrients, I had time to think some more. Not that there was much point. My head was on fire with pain and with my malnourishment I just didn’t have the mood to do much.
In the fire of a torch that hung from the wall opposite of our cell, I could see Paul as he was now. Just like in the dream, he looked older and he was missing his left wing. My heart tensed in my chest at the sight of that damn lump protruding where his wing used to be. Visible, clear as day, and yet he didn’t seem too concerned to hide it.
He looked so vulnerable, so innocent. But if what I’ve seen in my, for lack of a better word, dream was real, then he wasn’t so innocent anymore. He wasn’t the young gryphon full of life that threw away everything that he had, and joined me on my journey.
No, he got a taste of the real world beyond the borders of his home, and knowledge has the funny side effect of destroying innocence.
There was a sharp pang of pain and I clutched my head with both hands. There was something missing there. I felt like I lost something, like I’ve aged a lot in the blink of an eye.
Could it truly be? Did I really lose my memory? The last thing I remember was… I don’t even know. The only clear thing I could recall was me and Paul hitting the road.
Another pang of pain, this time it was even worse. An involuntary scream escaped me as the pang turned into a full-blown storm that brought me to my knees. I started thrashing around, not caring for anything but making the pain stop.
Then the pain just ceased. After a minute of being sure that I wouldn’t get another stroke of whatever the hell was happening, I looked up to where Paul should have been. Should have been because he wasn’t there. No, instead I was in the same cell, but the bars were once again wide enough for me to squeeze through.
What was happening? What was going on?
I was so confused, I couldn’t even tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. I also noticed that there wasn’t a wound at the back of my head.
“Make it stop,” I whimpered as I made my way to the bars of my prison and this time made it through without a hitch.
I can’t.
That voice again. What was that?
“Who are you?” I asked out loud while going to where I knew Paul was.
“What’s going on? What are you talking about?” My patience was running thin as the walls of this… prison, be it real or not, gnawed at my sanity.
“Answer me, God dammit!”
Silence was the only answer I got.
“You want me to help you? Then start talking! I’ve had enough of this mysterious bullshit!”
My own voice echoed through the empty prison where Paul should’ve been, but wasn’t.
“Dammit, not now!”
Suddenly, something fleeting and black passed through my peripheral vision. I immediately looked to my left, where the hall continued up a stairwell. An unnatural darkness had befallen the rest of the hall, and where once my prison was, nothing but darkness reigned now.
“Would be creepy if not for the part where I know that this isn’t real, ya hear me? This isn’t real… right?”
My anger turned into uncertainty as I followed the stairwell. With every step, the darkness behind me grew until I couldn’t see what was behind me anymore. Now, there was only the great ascend toward a pinpoint of light way up yonder.
Then, like a flash of lightning, I wasn’t standing on the stairway anymore. Instead I was somewhere on a featureless plane and the only thing before me was a figure clad in a simple dark blue robe. His skin was white and his hair dark and long, all of which somehow hinted toward how angels would probably look like if they were real.
He was a young, handsome man; easily in his prime age from what I could tell by the half of his face that wasn’t obscured by darkness. He wasn’t far away, so I could see his eyes stricken with sorrow. He turned toward me, fear wrinkling his face and making him older by at least ten years.
A whisper escaped his lips, unnaturally loud and echoing.
Don’t let them take me.
Then, he was gone, and I was standing at the stairway once again.
“What? Who wants to take you?” I called out, alas it was in vain.
Free yourself.
“I don’t know what you want!” I practically yelled, my throat becoming more hoarse with each word screamed.
Pain.
His words were followed by a trainwreck of a headache that began forming at the side of my head. I was unconscious before I could hit the ground.
“It’s ok, it’s ok!” Something heavy held me down as I tried to break free.
“No, it’s ok!” the same voice repeated, and it took me a while to attach that voice to a name. I slowly opened my eyes just to see Paul standing over me, his talons holding my hands down.
When he was sure that I was awake, he let me go. I abruptly sat up and my stomach immediately cramped.
Oh yeah, this was definitely the “real” world.
“We must get out,” I said suddenly, finding the words in Universal at the tip of my tongue as if I’ve always known how to speak that infernal language.
Paul just nodded, before asking: ”How?”
As if on cue (thank you, universe!), there was a sound as someone entered through the doors into the hall that led to our prison. I immediately turned to Paul. “Sorry,” I said.
And slapped him.
He yelped. “Why?”
In answer, I tried to slap him once again, but he was already tackling by the time I raised my hand. “Stop! What’s pntaěš with you?!” I wiggled, trying to break free and slap him again.
And that‘s when the doors to our prison opened, and in rushed a pony that charged the gryphon. This guy had to be new or something, because this ruse was as old as time and yet… it seemed to work.
When he was fully focused on the gryphon, he turned his back to me. A huge mistake. Me, being double his size, jumped onto his back and locked my arms around him in a choke-hold position.
Now, contrary to most of what you can read in books or see in movies, a well placed choke can have someone unconscious in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Before the pony knew what was happening, he lay unconscious at my feet.
The only problem with strangulation is that it makes the body automatically release… toxic waste.
Paul almost let out a saber as he looked at what I’d done and what followed. I admit, it was disgusting, but we had better things to do. I moved my hand to beckon to him, before walking to the bar doors. The keychain was still in the lock.
Paul didn’t hesitate much to leave this hellhole, and soon enough he and I were outside, while the unconscious pony was locked inside.
They say that normally, a victim of strangulation wakes up shortly after falling unconscious, and if he doesn’t, there’s something wrong. Perhaps brain damage? Can’t say I would mourn the bastard much. That is, if he had something to do with it. For all I knew, he was only some guardsman or something. But not like it mattered now.
I motioned with my head to my left, where the hall ended a few meters away from us in an old oaken door reinforced with iron platings.
Suddenly, pain flashed behind my eyes and at the back of my head. For a second, I was back at that strange hall with the figure standing a meter in front of me.
Hurry. It whispered in an urgent voice.
“Peter!” I felt woozy and I’d probably fall if it weren’t for Paul rushing to my side.
“Thanks,” I breathed out as my head stopped spinning. After being sure that nothing would impede my walking skills again, I pointed toward the door at the far end of the hall.
“We need to get, you know, of here.” Damn the language barrier. But at least I wasn’t so clueless anymore.
“Ryčp?” he asked. Hopefully “ryčp” means out, or away, or something, because that’s how I am gonna be using it.
“Yeah, we need to get out of here,” I corrected myself. Paul nodded in agreement. Not like there was anything to discuss.
So, we hurried to the door, looking into the cells while we ran. Most of the cells were empty, except for few that were occupied by ponies of all kinds. Paul stopped at one such cell, before taking the keychain from me and throwing it into the cell.
The pony in question looked up from his sleeping spot, first at Paul and me, then at the keychain. Paul just said something like, “Sobovďyv others.” Then we ran on.
When we reached the door, we could already hear the fumbling of keys behind us. Paul raised his paw before I could even touch the door. Then he pressed his ear to the oaken monster of a door, before nodding and motioning with his talon toward the massive ring that was where a knob would be in my world.
It took a lot of strength to open the door just enough for me to poke my head through. Surprise, surprise, another hall. But this one was more like a cavern than anything. Actually, it was a cavern. There were even small… what did you call those things hanging from the ceiling? Stalactites? Stalagmites? Could never remember which one it was. Not like it mattered.
There were also more infinitely burning torches, courtesy of magic I’d guess, by both sides of the cavernous hall. The hall was rather narrow and sloped down a little before ending in another door.
We silently made our way to the door as Paul did the same while I stayed a few steps behind him. He listened for a second before slowly shaking his head at me. Someone was behind the door. With one talon he beckoned me and with the other he pointed at the door.
I quickly made my way to the door and pressed an ear against it. I couldn’t hear much, but there was some kind of hum and a low chanting. That could mean several things, but the most probable cause was yet more damn magic.
Our only chance to get out of here would be stealth, because once we were exposed, we couldn’t do jack shit against spells.
I nodded at Paul and silently pushed the door open and took a look inside.
The room was circular and big. The ceiling reached far up ahead, where in the middle hanged a great chandelier with skulls acting as light sources. In the middle of the room was a large round table with some kind of large bowl set into its middle. Above the bowl, a small bracelet floated and rotated.
The walls were beset with countless shelves full of things, like jars, herbs, what one could presume were alchemical ingredients, trinkets, and even weapons.
Another door stood right across the room. We would have to get past a unicorn standing sideways to me and looking straight at the bracelet while chanting in a hushed voice. He was pastel blue with a long dark brown mane.
Stealth would not be an option.
I slowly retreated from the door and looked back at Paul. He tilted his head in question, but I just shook my head. Then I bumped the fist of my right hand against the palm of my left, hopefully making it clear that we would have to fight.
Paul nodded determinedly. So I raised my right hand and on the count of three, we barged in. Too late did I realize that the chanting had stopped.
The unicorn awaited us at the other side, his horn glowing, a smirk plastered across his ugly horse face. He hissed and let the spell loose.
There was a tingling at the back of my scalp, and a sound as if someone dropped something heavy. I looked beside me at Paul, who went into some kind of trance and fell onto the floor, eyes open and distant.
Then I looked back at the unicorn, who was clearly surprised that it didn’t work for me.
Free yourself. That’s what the voice must’ve meant. The unicorn probably had us under some kind of spell or something. It didn’t matter now. I took the opportunity and while he was shocked and confused, I gave him a hardass haymaker across his horse face. Which wasn’t easy, considering he was only half my height.
Surprisingly, that didn’t knock him out. It did, however, knock him off his legs.
“Fuck!” I yelled as pain engulfed my entire right hand. “God dammit!”
I could see that the unicorn was not much better off, hissing and probably swearing like a sailor while trying to get up. His horn started to glow quickly, so I crossed the rest of the distance between us and kicked the living lights out of him.
That brought him down for the time being.
“Bastard,” I spat in his direction and then went to look at Paul.
Take me.
A chill went up my spine, as the whisper, as if carried on wind, echoed around the room accompanied by more whispers that were, however, too many and too silent to be understood.
Wear me once again.
The source of the voice came from the middle of the room. But there was nothing but a few runes around the bowl filled with some dark read liquid, above which the bracelet was floating and spinning slowly; strangely alluring.
As if on instinct I raised my left hand toward it, willing it to come to me.
And it did.
The bracelet slowly floated to my outstretched hand, where it stayed floating and spinning above the palm. It was plain, perhaps made from iron, and looked like three small metal bars that were interwoven together into a small circle.
All shall be revealed.
The whispering grew stronger and more honey-laden. I knew it was a trap of some kind; I knew that whatever this was, it was nothing good.
And yet, it felt as if I was reuniting with an old friend. There was just something alluringly familiar about it.
It beckoned me with its captivating motions. Don’t do it, Peter. You know the drill. Don’t do it.
Ever wondered what would happen if the good guys decided to take on the villains offer and become… well, evil? Ever wondered what power truly lay behind the promising words? I did. I still do.
But that wasn’t it. It was something different. I felt as if the bracelet and I… as if we belonged. It was meant to be worn, and I was to wear it. The feeling couldn’t be described properly. Imagine having a sister, or anyone else really, that you loved above all else, and imagine reuniting with her after a decade of separation. You wouldn’t think about it. You would just run to her and hug her, telling her how much you’ve missed her. It was the same with this jewel and me.
I gently picked the floating bracelet in the fingers of my left hand, before slowly fitting it through my right hand, all the while the whispers grew louder and more excited.
Then, the deed was done, and the bracelet now rested comfortably on my right hand. It looked really pretty, almost a perfect fit. Not too big, and not too small. It actually tightened a little bit, so it wouldn’t be traveling up and down the length of my forearm.
And I wouldn’t be able to take it off.
I greet you once again, my host, an echo of a strong and deep, yet soothing voice filled my mind. It was not unfamiliar, as it was the same voice that broke me free from the unicorn’s spell.
“Who are you?”
The voice remained silent for a few seconds. You do not remember?
For a second, I doubted if I should answer truthfully, or not.
“I don’t.”
Then the damage is worse than I thought. Forgive me, my host.
I looked around the room. It was strange to hear the voice within my head, yet be unable to pinpoint its location in the… real world. My eyes rested on Paul, still in trance on the floor, drool escaping his open beak.
Wait, were birds even capable of producing saliva?
“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.
It’s quite complicated. In short, I was trying to protect your mind from damage the warlock was causing. I was able to retain a few of your memories, and some knowledge of your time in this world. However, there was only so much I could do before he discovered my presence. Once he did, he tried to bend me to his will, just like he tried to bend you.
I was now kneeling in front of Paul.
“All I heard is a bunch of words put together to form a sentence. Wait, how do you even speak English? No, wait, we can continue this later, now we need to get out of here. How do I snap him out of hit?”
Very well. Slap him.
“What?” I asked dryly.
Slap him. That should bring him out of his trance now that the warlock is unconscious.
I slapped him. Hard. Nothing happened.
It seems he is still under his spell.
“Dammit,” I snarled and stood up, looking at the unconscious pony a meter or two away from me. Before you complain, I know that I am jumping between metric and imperial system, but sometimes one is more convenient in certain situations that the other. I blame all the books I’d read.
“Well? How do I get him out of it, then?”
Kill the warlock.
My throat clutched in anxiety as the words were spoken, or rather “echoed”, but that’s just a minor detail.
“Is there no other way?”
The voice chuckled. You could convince him to release your friend.
Yeah, as if that was going to happen. My head started to hurt again as I looked around the room, looking for… something.
I noticed that there were a few things at the far side of the table that stuck out. I went to the other side of the room to take a better look. On and beneath the table were various things, from bags, trinkets and weapons, to pieces of armor. Among it, I noticed my mace, the handle now crooked slightly, while the head was scratched, chipped, and sometimes dented from being used frequently.
I picked it up, a feeling of nostalgia coursing through me as I gave it a few swings.
With determination, I crossed back over to the unicorn, still laying on the floor, a few droplets of blood running down his nose and mouth now and then.
Paul would do the same for me.
He wouldn’t even hesitate.
Adrenaline surged through me, and my heart sped up. The dull pain deafened me as my face heated up with sudden rage. I drew the mace above my head, hands trembling slightly in both uncertainty and excitement.
Paul’d do the same for me.
Then I brought down the mace upon its head with a scream of outrage. Some blood and bits of unidentifiable matter splashed across my face, my hands and my chest. He was dead with the first blow. But I was in full psycho mode now, and I continued my relentless assault until a silent call of my name brought me out of my rage.
“Peter?”
Breathing heavily and grimacing I looked at Paul who was now crouching and looking at me. He flinched as my eyes met his.
I dropped the mace before spitting some of the unicorn’s blood that got into my mouth back at the mangled corpse.
“Are you-”
“Don’t,” I interrupted him as I smeared the bits and blood off my face.
Finally after a few more seconds of heavy breathing, I said, “Our things,” and pointed at the bits of equipment laying on the table and the floor on the other side of the room.
Paul looked a little uncertainly at me, before nodding slightly and heading to our, and possibly the other prisoners’, equipment.
Now, talk and explain, I thought.
Very well. First, let me introduce myself once again.
Alright.
Throughout history, many have called me: The angel of darkness.
I snorted, which startled Paul a little. I just brought my hand up to him and shook my head, gesturing that everything was fine. He went back to rummaging through the pile of stuff.
Angel of darkness? Are you kidding me?
What would you have me called, then?
How about… Dufus.
The voice sighed. It’s like old times already.
