Natural Selection

August was doing better. He still wasn’t talking much, but neither did he have that far away look in his eyes. Silas and I had discussed his leaving, which I knew had been coming. He had his own companion and children to return to and I had known he wanted to get back to them as quickly as possible.

The three of us had ceased our travels to eat, and too, I think we were both curious to see how August would react around other people. I hoped we did not regret our choice.

A slave had come to serve us, and had chosen August to kneel beside. He, seeing her there, had grabbed her up to kiss. It was a long kiss, one that explores and tastes, a kiss to familiarize himself with a woman he did not know. Eventually though, he had released her and concentrated on his food. At this, Silas stepped over to the inn keep, their conversation held low before he returned.

Within ehns there were several women, approaching our table. Slaves, young girls, a whore, a woman pregnant as well as a dark skinned woman and a very large woman. These women approached August, one lowering to his lap. It was the dark skinned woman, who was immediately pushed away, which was no wonder, if he had any memories of the mamba camp.

The pregnant female was pushed away as well, as was the woman that would have made four of me. A slave begged fro food and he ignored her. One he had chosen and she was pulled to his lap, kissing her. I was trying to figure out what it was Silas was trying to determine.

Silas looked at me an explained that August was sniffing them out, for lack of a better word, as potential mates. He waved me over to August’s side, to see if he would push me away as well. I approached and his eyes lifted up to meet mine and immediately pushed the other girl away. He looked down to his plate, lifting a piece of the bosk and offered it up to me. I lowered down next to him and took it. It was clear that he would share with me.

He pulled me onto his lap without thought and began to kiss me I was trying to shy from him, to gently urge him out of the kiss as to not cause any commotion. The girl that he had been kissing was still trying to get his attention, but he ignored her in favor of our very public display, and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable while he continued to kiss me, undeterred by my trying to remove myself from him.

There was a call from across the room, directed at me, a man rising from his table and stalking towards us, yelling out for all to hear, that if Silas did not collar me, he would for my behavior.

Silas was already trying to get us out of there, rising and shoving at August’s shoulder to get him to stop. The experiment had suddenly turned into something more.

The man repeated his threat, holding up a piece of binding fiber to our guard. August did not seem to take note of what was happening, and Silas gave his excuses to the man, standing up for me.

I was able to distance myself from August’s lap and move behind Silas. I felt so small and vulnerable, my heart hammering out a rapid tattoo.

August eyes lifted when I rose to meet my own, then narrowed when I stepped behind Silas in lieu of protection. The man who had wanted me collared reached out to grab my arm, and then it happened.

August was quick. His fist slammed into the side of the man’s head, knocking him off balance and he wobbled, unprepared. August voiced a word and bared his sharpened teeth at the man. Mine, he said, as if I was little more than a possession already. August grabbed me and jerked me towards his chest. I appeared we would have to work on August’s social skills.

Whore, I heard him call out as we made our way out of the inn, I not daring to look back.

Kiss

We stopped in a small town that was far enough away for us to feel safe, though in retrospect, I didn’t know that I would ever feel safe again. August had fallen into a deep sleep, which neither of us could not rouse him from. It was Silas who came up with the idea to pinch him, but it was me who was supposed to administer it.

Pain is often an opening. Whether or not it would work on him was anyone's guess, but this would be no fragile, matronly pinch, instead, cutting to directly to the quick of things. There was always the danger of retaliation and I knew that. Somewhere in the back of my mind this made sense, but even as thumb and forefinger connected, I hadn't expected the volatile reaction that would follow. August immediately flailed awake, his arm coming down atop my own, trying to knock mine away. I heard the crack of bone, mine, and cried out, immediately pulling my arm back into my chest and cradling it with my other hand. The back of my eyelids burned with hot tears and I whispered to Silas that he was.. receptive.

While Silas wrapped my arm to stabilize it, and our attention turned back to the real patient, who had sat quietly staring, as if in some sort of trance. He had known to strike out at pain, which Silas had concluded rose him notches above infantile. He was in there, somewhere, lost and unable to find his way out. And was it any wonder, after all he had been through?

I lowered in front of him, my hand touching the top of his knee. His gaze dropped to my hand and I realized there must be a shadow of recognition. I took his hand, pressing his palm against my chest, while I leaned in, my mouth at his throat. I could taste the combination of lake water and sweat, as well as something more. Uncertainty.

Much can be said for the primal urges of the body, the ancient telling of temptation and delight. He responded, his eyes flaring as I kissed him. Or rather, as he kissed me.

There was a small sound that came from somewhere deep inside me when I was kissing him, an unconscious effort to draw him out. There was more careful pressure offered his mouth, going as slowly as I could, trying not to frighten him. In some strange way, he was .. virginal and innocent and I wanted to take my time with him. There was little doubt that instinct would take over at some point, or maybe memory.

His hand lifted and fisted in my hair, holding me tightly against him. I had awakened.. something. Lust. Which had quickly culminated into sex. It would take time, but I was certain he was going to be alright.

Fire Realm

My return did not seem welcoming. I had lost the respect I had tried so hard to gain with the villagers. Maybe they saw compassion as a weakness. They were angry that I had taken away their revenge. It didn’t matter that Matthew had not been the cause, just that they wanted him to pay. My trust was wavering. I did not trust Tukuli, had never fully trusted him and now, I could feel the slither of doubt crawl over my skin.

He had bid us to his hut upon return, while venomous whispers surrounded us. He told us that we had found what we had sought, and that now, it was time to leave. I could not have agreed more.

I flinched when he told August that there was more for him to do, but that I would hold him back, because I had awakened something in him. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was true, then with a sigh, decided it probably was. We were to leave in the morning, but first, August would have to attend to the marks, the tattoos he had been given before his time in the sands.

I knew these marks bothered August. Some were fading, while others seemed to hold fast to his flesh. There were parts of August that were changing and neither of us understood it. This ceremony was proposed to make him whole again. We were sent away, until the evening’s.. debauchery began. For our own protection, Tukuli had said, but I knew there was something more.

I was becoming very fond of August. No, it was more than fondness, and that frightened me. I have a habit of diving in too rapidly, of offering too much of myself too quickly. I’m finding that I can’t help it though, it’s just the way I am. I do not give myself in pieces. I never have, and it’s obvious enough that I never will. With me, it seems to be all or nothing.

When at last night befell the village, I had worked myself into a studious calm, praying that the evening would go quickly and that we could leave. I was praying that they would actually allow him to leave. I was of no value to them, but August was revered. There were times I could swear they revered him in God like amour.

With the beating of the drums, we were drawn from the hut. I had looked for August, but I was unable to see his ghost like visage, covered in the heavy tattoos, and then, just like that, he was there in the throng of people, half hidden by their bodies. I felt the perilous beat of my heart at the sight of him and it was all I could do to keep from going to him, even with the hand of Silas on my arm.

There was a savage beauty about him, the bones in his hair gleaming dully beneath twisted dark locks, a man wild and untamable in all his naked glory and for a moment I was awed. If anything, he had a presence about him that few men could carry off.

Tukuli spoke and the villagers cheered. I wanted to get to him, but the sea of people between us made it quite impossible to do. I could not take my eyes off of him though, transfixed no only by his appearance, but the way the villagers held him in such esteem.

Those around me knelt, I however, did not, instead, standing there against the painted glow of the firelight, red curls rippling around my cheeks, staring. Unsmiling. Wary. They had filed his teeth, a barbaric bevel of what had once been a beautiful smile. I had not meant to recoil at the sight, but I had, releasing a startled cry that I quickly quieted by way of forced palm over my mouth. I wanted to cry, to scream, to turn away with revulsion. He looked like one of the .. demons, straight out of the book that I had been studying in the Great Library, a book that few were allowed to view. My viewing had been a gift.

I wanted to bury my face in my hands, to ignore what had been done, but I couldn’t turn away. Then the women began to paw at him, and I found that my hands contracted in to fists, tightly clenching. Neither could I look away from the effects of their touches, which was an obvious delight to all of them.

The chants drummed around me, humming like a thousand bees in my head. It was Silas, by way of drag that had awakened me from my stupor, moving in closer to a companion that was currently coveted by one woman after another. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to feel. Certainly there was an inkling of betrayal and hurt at his fornication, and finally I did look away, unable to watch him.. and them, any longer. I realized what it was, sex, even understood the forces that drove him, and yet, it was something my mind, or perhaps my heart did not wish to accept.

Silas moved away and I was left alone, though no one paid any attention to me, for which I was grateful. One woman after another grunted in animalistic lust and pleasure, the noises unable to force the shadows of the previous scene from my mind.

The chanting ceased and the drums began to thump like the beat of a heart, echoing through the jungle. I could feel the blood in my veins throbbing as well.

I had not been looking at him when he took my arm and drew me in. Instead, my gaze had been on some distant plane, only wishing the night would end, but it did not. Instead, it seemed to go on forever. He had the musky aroma of sex, as if he’d bathed in other women, which really wasn’t so far from the truth. I was resistant with that first pull, put feet gave way to the first step, and then another, and soon I found that I was swaying, gliding back and forth in front of him, before I was drawn into him. I heard, felt the rent of cloth at my shoulder and my body stiffened slightly when I felt his teeth cut into flesh followed by the lash of tongue. It wasn’t so far fetched that I would be a meal before the lar torvis rose, and still, I tipped my head to the side so that it wouldn’t be in the way. My lips parted and my eyes closed, momentarily forgetting all that were around us. When I opened my eyes again, I was dimly aware that my tunic was lying at my feet in shreds and the dye from the fires light was casting a red orange glow over pale flesh. He kissed me and I groaned, from both pain and elation, and my arms wrap around him in a coiling embrace, my breasts pressed against his chest, as if I was trying to become one with him. Or maybe, it was that I wanted to erase those before me, because August wasn’t the only one possessed. It was contagious.

He was pulled away from me, and I instinctively reached out for him, wanting to pull him back. I hadn’t realized the word that they were chanting until I saw the fear in August’s eyes. Fire. They were going to throw him in the fire.

I screamed until my voice was hoarse. I clawed to try and get to him, but nothing I did moved the bodies from my path. I watched with a thrill of horror as they pushed him towards the flames.

I could see the points of spears digging at him, and the blood as it moved down his body, uncomprehending. I looked away, trying to spot Silas in the crowd, and by the time I looked back, the rite of ceremony had turned to chaos. A man fell and women screamed. When I looked for the source of the scream, I saw that one of the women had tripped and landed in the fire herself, her body quickly succumbing to flame, a macabre dark dancing doll that bounced, leeched forward then fell at another man’s feet, he too catching fire as if he’d been dry tinder. I stood transfixed, unable to move while anarchy around me continued. The huts had caught fire and it wasn’t until Silas broke the hold on the woman who held me and pulled me towards the jungle that the full scope of happenings hit me. They had wanted to burn him alive, a gift to the Gods, or a meal for each of the villagers to catch a piece of his soul.

I turned around in the midst of escape, to see him standing on one of the roofs, a glorified figure of malevolence. I couldn’t leave him. I had left him once, and I knew I could not leave him again. I tugged back against the pull of Silas’ arm, trying to free myself, trying to return to a village that was quickly going up in flames, but Silas would not let me go. He promised me we would get him.

I don’t remember reaching the tarn, or climbing up upon its back, or taking to flight. I do remember being up in the air and looking down at the river that lay near the village, lighted by the glow of the village inferno.

Silas maneuvered the tarn, which was quickly gaining on a running August, who was being pursued by mamba survivors. Silas ordered me into the basket, the task he had had me practice over and over. Just as I dropped into the basket, I felt the tarn dive, talons reaching out for companioned prey, before we took to the air again.

I could smell the acrid aroma of smoke and for the first time in my life, I wished others ill. I hoped they would all burn, leaving nothing behind but memories and ashes.

We flew over a small lake and Silas commanded the tarn to drop the limp, burnt body into the water. We landed and I was out of the basket as quickly as possible and wading into the water, searching. It was Silas who found him and carried him to shore with me right behind him.

Death comes in many forms. I have felt it often, experienced the physical pain, had seen life leave the body by the point of steel and the loss of breath. I wanted to fight with him, to fight for him. I wanted him to fight for me. I was making unspoken deals with the Priest Kings, even as Silas was drawing out the needle, which he plunged into August’s chest.

He sputtered and coughed, choked and gagged, and I gave thanks for it all. August had come back. He was alive.

Mission Impossible

I had approached the group of children, who were playing ball, inadvertently asking if any held the name of Jeremy. None did, but the little girl with the doll was pulling on my pant leg. Jeremy was her brother. This, was Celia, or Cici, as her sister, who looked at me suspiciously, called her. Aileen pulled her away from me toward the safety of one of the huts. I followed.

I had found the children. Now all I had to do was get them out, without them kicking and screaming, and me being caught. I wasn’t sure how to get it. Certainly I couldn’t just walk into a home that was not mine and whose owner I did not know. Or .. could I?

The door was open, a semi invitation, and I peeked in, my shoulder pressed against the jam. I told her that I had just been passing by, and wanted to compliment her on how beautiful her children were and that she and her companion must be very proud. I needed more information. Was there a man? And if so, would he be home soon?

She had no companion. That was good. I stepped further inside, much to the woman’s dismay, telling me to leave. I stepped in further, not to be deterred. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. Not the children to be handed over to me of course, and I tried to be sociable, never a strong skill to begin with, which only drew more of the woman’s distrust to me. Cici had started to cry and I instinctively moved towards her, wrapping my arms around her in an effort to comfort, crooning soft words and telling her my name. Meanwhile the woman, with wooden spoon in hand, was coming towards me, in a not so friendly stalk.

I was crouched, turned away from the woman, which offered me perfect opportunity to draw the blow gun from beneath my tunic. All I could think was .. please don’t let the children scream. By the time I turned around, the woman, who was three times my size, was hovering over me menacingly. I blew, then apologized. She teetered, the look of surprise on her face carved like stone. The wooden spoon cracked over the top of my head and she fell forward, deadweight across my legs.

I immediately began to try to roll the woman off, while speaking as calmly as I could to the children, inundating them with an overload of information on who I was and why I had come. I had my work cut out for me, because Jeremy, as I was to find out was quite a pretentious child, who was sure the mamba would kill them.

It was only by the description of his father and the reason they had come that I had convinced him and I was overjoyed at the fact that he, along with his sisters, would come willingly.

I still had darts, and my knife, and Jeremy held his own, refusing to give it up. I could understand his motives, and since there was little time left to argue, I did not. We four made it to the river in silence, while I was trying to figure out how I could get them into the jungle without being seen. One woman, coming out near the water, had been easy. But taking children into the jungle, without being seen, would not.

I had grabbed a bucket when we had left, our reason to go back to the river, handing it to Jeremy. A guard followed us, and I lifted my eyes to the sky, trying to gauge the time. Tehre was no time to lose. I had turned to the guard, dart in hand, but for just an instant, lar torvis had blinded me, something I hadn't taken into account when debating the angle. Their was a soft his and the dart escaped its cylinder suite of refuge, but it would not hit the target of guard, instead, buzzing past his ear, a fact that wasn't known straight away, until I realized that he was drawing his sword and coming towards me.

Aileen and Celia were pushed out of the way, so that they would in no way be harmed by an errant thrust of sword, and Jeremy dropped the bucket in the water, to which a wafting current immediately caught, dragging it slowly downstream. I was fumbling, trying to load another dart, hoping the guard wouldn't call out before I could fell him, if I could fell him at all. I yelled to Jeremy to take his sisters and run towards the tree line. The an's arm lifted, and for just a fraction, the sun was blocked, casting a long wavering shadow over the moving water. A fraction, all that was needed, I sucked in a breath, and blew.

The dart had hit him in the neck, at so close a distance, a target that could nary be missed, but his arm was already up and poised for a strike, that, and it would take a few seconds for the darting to take effect. Two steps, three, and he was looming over me, staggering for his balance, his sword arm suddenly unsure. His expression was one of amazement and his mouth opened, as if he was about to speak, before the mountain of man began to topple, but not before he called out. But this time, it was not pounds of flesh that would find me, but the razor tip sharpness of steel.

Had he been only one step closer, the wound might have found a fatality, but I had instinctively taken a step back and to the right. As it was, the blade had drawn down from shoulder and over the outside of my left arm in a mere graze. I didn't wait to see where he landed, instead, turning and half limping, half running off after the children, who by now had almost reached the tree line.

I was silently praying that there was still enough time to get back to camp.

The closer I got to the jungle, the louder the sound of.. hoof beats became. I turned to see August riding towards me on the largest tharlarion I had ever seen, with Silas behind him. As promised, he had come for me.

By now the call of the first guard had drawn others, but August had divided the children from them. Matthew was there as well, swooping his children up to him, Jeremy and Cici, while Silas snagged Aileen. I wasn’t so lucky, still in the throng of three men, who did not wish to let me go. You have what is mine, August told them, and he would take me and leave now. I expected bloodshed, but it was Matthew who had pleaded with them, and they had at last, relented and we were free to go. All of us.

We said our farewells to Matthew and his children on the beach. Jeremy had given me his knife, saying I needed it more than he did, which brought hoots of laughter. It was endearing. Not funny, but very endearing.

After we had parted ways I had realized that Tukuli had saddled me with what he thought an impossible task. He did not expect me to be successful.

I almost believed him.

Primal Instinct

We were staying, again, but now, it would be different. I was a woman of worth, one to be respected, and one who was being prepared for greater things.

I have an insatiable appetite, for knowledge, something I had found out when I was with Lucian. I have a lust of libraries, a love for learning and I often find myself studying things so that I might understand them better. But all things are not to be found in the pages of a book. There is education to be had all around us. Medicinal herbs for one, which I was finding fascinating.

Thus far, I had successfully evaded the eating of flesh, able to disengage myself from that part of village life, the only part that I really abhorred, but there was to be a ceremony, a celebration of sorts, and Silas and I had had worried all day about the coming.. meal.

I had always known the day would come when I would be expected to participate in all matters, including the consumption of human flesh. It was this that plagued me, that threatened to re-erect the wall that August had so rightfully felled with destroying of cards. I hadn’t wanted to know where it came from, because there were times when knowledge, wasn’t prudent. I pretended it was tarsk. I only had to imbibe in one piece, thankfully, and I kept it down without regurgitation. Raw flesh was not to my liking and I was glad I had not known him.

When morning came, I was allowed to go join a hunting party. But to my dismay I found it was to be to a white man’s village. Apparently this village had stolen children from the mamba, and the mamba wanted them back. Children were much more compliant than the adults in the happenstance of slavery, which didn’t sit well with my jungle compatriots, and when our group neared, close enough to see, August bid me to return and wait for him. A hunting I may go, but I would not be participating in war. I did not challenge.

I could hear, even in my retreat, the battle, the cries and the confusion, but I had not stopped.

It had not taken long for the men to return with more than half the children that had been taken. But too, they had something .. or someone else. A man, a white man, who was doomed to be food. A man yet alive.

Perhaps he had beckoned me because I was ghost like in a throng of darkness. I was something familiar, a woman of his own kind. He begged me for help, told me that he had children. That his companion had perished and he was all that they had left. His wounds, as I was to see, were not life threatening and I felt a cold chill of terror, because I knew, even without divination, what his future would be.

I am not a savage, save for the whole eating of raw human flesh thing. That was rather uncivilized. But I had already decided I would not be eating.. this man, instead, I would try to help him. I just didn’t have a clue.. how.

A child lay dead near him, one that had not been so lucky. Had that been my child, would I have wanted revenge? It was possible, that in my grief, I would want vengeance, even if the one it was doled out upon had not been responsible. No, I chided myself. I could not do that, unless, I was sure.

But had this man done it. He said he had not, which of course was understandable, given what he was facing, but I was sure that he was telling the truth. I touched him, my fingers placed lightly atop of his arm. He was not lying, I would have gambled my life on that, a gamble that I was about to have to prove.

His name was Matthew and he from Bazi, had only been in the village for two days before the mamba had attacked. He had three children, Jeremy, nice, Aileen, four and Celia, who was two. They were fair haired children, like their mother, with eyes the color of mine. Elise, their mother, had died on the ship, the Silvertarn, that had brought them here, and had in fact, been dying for several months. He had heard about the healing sands, and had brought her here, to save her.

I understood what hope could do and the lengths that people would go to attain it. I had been one of those people.

I was estranged from my children. Charm was with her grandmother and showed little sign of wanting to come back home, from the letters I had received when in Ar. Olivia was with her father, she too, lost to me. And yet, I knew that both were safe and well taken care of, would continue to be even if something did happen to me. He did not have such luxury.

I would help. Or, I would try to help, but I could not promise that I would be able to save him. What I did promise him, was that if I could not, I would see his children safely back to his family. It was all I could do.

August had returned with Tukuli by now, his arms folded across his chest. I thought he had come to war with me on my request, delivered by August, to allow the man to live, and he had, in his own way, but he held my opinion in regard as I explained the situation to him. Matthew had been told that all men needed to protect the camp when the mamba had attacked, and though he knew little of battle he had done it to protect his own children.

But to free him, I had to prove his innocence. I was to go into the village, discover the truth and return with it. I had until nightfall, at which point, the man would be killed.

August had said he would go with me, but Tukuli said something in a brash manner in the native tongue that I did not yet understand, and August relented. He had been threatened to not follow me. It was planned that two of the mamba would lead me to the village and wait for me until nightfall. I was to find the children and bring them back with me. If I did not meet my deadline, then it would be assumed that I had been captured. Only then would the man and his offspring be allowed to leave.

I was equipped. A blow tube, poison quills, that I was assured would kill no one, only force them into a deep sleep, a small knife, and the promise that if I did not return, that August would come for me, despite the shaman’s warning.

It was not a small camp, and for this I was grateful. At least I might be able to sneak in, by way of the river, unnoticed. Act like I belong, August had told me. I moved to the water and splashed my face, watching those coming and going, gathering water for cooking and cleaning. There were children near, playing, and for a moment I had hoped, no, prayed they would be the children I sought, but they were not. There was a guard with them, a sentinel standing at the rivers edge, one whose attention had drawn to me, eyes narrowed in speculation. I should not, he said, go to the rive alone again, and that I should go directly into camp, where I would be safe. I released a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I was in.

Ashes to Ashes

We landed, finally, near an abandoned shack and I was released from the holding cell of basket. Neither man spoke to me, instead, moving into the building of eroded memories with axe in hand, where they started to wedge up floorboards with the blade. Beneath, covered in the dusts of time, was box. There was no key, but there was the axe.

Coins spilled free, complementary colors of silver and gold, divided by the men. Here, Jonah would leave us. Three had become two.

Silas was angry with me. So angry, he said he would not take me aback. He told me I was useless, at which point, I now had no choice but to agree. And when he asked me if I would relinquish the cards if August asked, I did not hesitate in my answer. Yes. Perhaps it was because of that single word that I was not left behind, but only if I could give him a reason for taking me. That answer came in the shape of a crossbow, a weapon that could be easily wielded by me.

It was settled, we would both go back. I had been afraid of loosing myself, but the fear of loosing August had liberated me from that.

I practiced aiming and shooting, I practiced climbing from basket to tarn, up and down, and up and down until he was certain I had it right, I an odd acrobat who prayed I wouldn’t fall. It would be different in the air with the wind against me, but it was necessary. Finally, something I was not afraid of. Heights.

We landed in a clearing just as twilight broke the skies. I wanted to think that Silas had a plan, but I do not think he did. I was a woman well armed, with knives strapped to my legs and around my hips, a tube and poison darts tucked in my belt, and of course, the cross bow in my hand.

I have never been a stalking predator. I have never been labeled with saving anyone, and yet, here I was, trying to make my first rescue mission a success. We had made it to the edge of camp, where those within were partaking of what could only be people. August should have been easily spotted with his ghost like skin riddled with tattoos amongst those of darker flesh. I looked, my heart leaping into my throat at not being able to find him. Oh, Kings, what if he was dead? What had I done?

I was so intent on trying to locate that when the hand wrapped around my mouth from behind, I froze, seeing that Silas too, was enduring similar treatment. I only relaxed a little when I realized it was August, who had pulled us away from the jungles edge, asking why we had come back. Had he actually expected we would not?

In his eyes, I had chosen already. I had chosen the cards over him, not something that would be forgiven without consequence. He had the ‘others’ now.

Love and pain. In my dictionary, the words had always been interchangeable, inseparable. He wanted me to go; he was pushing me away because I had betrayed him. Had I really expected anything different? I told him that if he refused to go with me, that I would stay with him. He countered with a question I had not anticipated. He wanted to know if I would die for him. I didn’t even have time to answer before the first command was given. I was to strip and walk into the village, and toss my cards into the flames. I got the feeling that if I hesitated I could, very well be on the menu.

It was a dangerous proposition I was accepting. I could burn them, and he could send me away regardless. Then I would be without August or cards. I would be absolutely and utterly alone.

My clothing was removed with lifeless enthusiasm, and by the time I had fully undressed, Silas had returned with my cards, which had been left in the tarn basket for safe keeping. I felt a small electric current when he handed them over, as if tiny needles were piercing my flesh.

I had chosen, perhaps wisely this time.

Dark bodies parted as I approached, but I looked at none of them, my eyes cast to the ground in front of me. Springy curls of auburn bounced against my cheek, defiant of the length that had been removed. Years ago, my father had taken me to be sold. He had whispered something ruefully in the shell of my ear, just before I had been handed over to the slaver. “They must be destroyed to break the curse.” I had tried, once, after the faire, when Olivia was taken from me. I had tried to burn them within flames of cleansing fire, but instinct, preservation would not allow me to do so, and now, I was attempting to do it again.

One. The card was plucked from the company of others and tossed in the flame, a firelight that painted me in a palette of muted colors against the glow of moons, my skin catching the light with fleeting iridescent glimmers of quicksilver, pink and turquoise. Two. Another card fell and I closed my eyes against the whispers that were growing louder in my ears. The edges curled and burned, before falling into the bitter black state of charcoal. I was sweating, profusely, and despite the warmth of the night, Astraea I shivering with cold.

The fortune of fire seemed to grow higher with every force feeding of card. There was humming, coming from all around me, hums that were meant to purge the ramifications of rence. Three, four, ten.. twelve. The deck was dwindling and the voices were begging that she stop. Twice I hesitated, and twice I continued, each ancient artifact pulled from the deck and dropped without circumstance. When half the deck had been emptied from my hand, I paused, not because of the cards and their cries, or the hum that was now drumming and drowning out rence betrayers, but because I needed to look at August, needed to see if he was watching me. If there was some viable expression in his gaze that would give me hope. Several more cards were caught in the
crimson claw of the flame, no order to the insanity of burnt offerings. Forty, fifty. There was an unsteadiness that needled at me, numbness, tingling, a sensation of skin crawling with insects. I’m sure my own features were held in an expression of pain, physical pain, as flames continued to feast. Every card had been dropped singularly and at last, when the last card was held within cold, damp, pale fingers, I found that I was having trouble in its release. I knew what it was, without having to look. The City of Dust, a card of revelation and release. The card was ripped in
two, half tossed in the flame. The half was ripped again, so that it was quartered, one half of that, too, dropped into the flame for consumption. What was left was a small corner, a piece of the tradition that I had so willing destroyed. This.. piece, was not burned, it was not sent into the heated oblivion. For some ihns I continued to stare at it, before I crumbled the corner in my hand and pushed it into my mouth, chewing and swallowing. Cards, gone, and yet, I would retain a piece in hopes that my.. curse would be broken. I was alive, still standing, still breathing.. and still.. anticipating the worst.

Those around me continued to hum, which sounded like a thousand small buzzing bees. I was praying I wouldn’t be stung, but there was little doubt of the energy that was being generated and directed at me. Even though he still chanted in his native voice, I could understand him, a feat that did not at all seem odd to me. He told me the fire called to me, that I must breathe in its flames, to allow its heat to fill my veins, to allow it to.. consume me.

I had heard, once, of men walking over white hot coals with not so much as a tiny blister. I could not comprehend that, not then, and not now, because that was exactly what he was asking me to do. He went first, his first step causing fire and ash to spark upwards. He walked backwards, his finger curled in towards him in repetitive motion, beckoning me to join him. I knew that I would either be raised, or razed. I really hoped it wasn’t the latter.

I was feeling rather damned for my part in destroying the cards of my ancestors. I hadn’t moved, my body stiff, my heart heavy. The cursed cards were nothing more than charcoal now, as were the whispers that had faded with the onset of villagers hum. It was all I felt I could do to stand upright and not teeter, before I took that first step.

The soles of my bare feet touched the white hot grandeur of coals. There was no flinch, no clutter of thought that would disrupt the baptismal of flames. I didn't burn. I didn't even feel hot, though the sweat from earlier did trickle down over my belly, to drop, sizzling on the coals. One step after another I followed forward his backwards steps, not once taking my eyes off of him for fear the spell.. possession, or whatever this was.. would be broken, and she would be annihilated.

There were no doubts, no needling distrusts that could cause me possible harm if I did not believe. Miko, he called me, dubbing me with the respected name of a female shaman.

When I stepped away from the coals and turned, I could feel the rush of rapture, I could feel the fire so hot that I felt as if I was being singed.

I had danced in the flames, and had survived. I was free.

Tribulation

August was to meet us at the tarn, the birds still there, dark shapes in wait.

Remorse isn’t a pleasant emotion to deal with. But guilt, that is worse. I wouldn't blame August, if he indeed made it back, if he simply dropped me off at the first place they landed. Or.. if he didn't take me back at all. I out at the path expecting him to return on. Expected? Prayed. Hoped. Promises were made, bargains sought, if only he came back.. safely.

Darkness started to wane into a dreary gray, light filtered by most of the leaves that canopied above us. He’d been gone for a long time. Too long, and my fear of his not returning was building.

Finally, the leaves moved and two boys came into our view. Silas snagged my arm and pulled me closer to him while the boys spoke in their native language and pointed to me. Or, rather, my hair. None of us understood, August had always been the interpreter, but when he lifted the pouch that held my cards, I knew.

Red and wild and long, my hair had never been cut. Hair for cards. In her eyes, that was more than a fair trade. I had pointed towards the pouch, then offered August’s name, looking behind them to see if he was perhaps on his way. He was not. Silas released my arm from the hold he taken when the boys had approached, but with my pull, he freed me, then handed me the knife. Dark hands dipped inside the pouch, one card retrieved, then dropped on the ground in front of me.

The hair was twisted and looped around my hand and pulled forward. I bent my head, took the knife in my opposite hand and began to saw it at the base of my neck. I could feel the weight lessen with every cut until finally I held the long red pony tail out for the boys to take. With no fuss at all, the hair was traded for cards and Silas immediately got his knife back.

Still no August. I had expected to find a note inside the pouch that had been dropped on the ground as soon as my hair had been handed over. There was nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, one card was missing. The Four of Wands, the card of his future.

I was beginning to panic. Silas said that he had chosen not to come back, or that he was dead. I did not, could not believe that. The card removed .. disconnection. That was me. It had not been him at all. And now I had sent him into the mouth of madness and for what?

I told him that there would be a failure to meet the deadline. It wasn't a deadline of his finding a cure. That's what he thought I meant and that's why he was so.. angry at me. But that wasn't it at all. Problems and flaws come to the surface. This was definitely a problem. A big problem, and I knew we had to go and get him. Somewhere in the labyrinth of jumbled thinking I thought I might be able to trade myself for him, but Tukuli had never wanted me, and he had always wanted August.

And I had delivered him.

It was the longest tarn ride of my life. I did not want to leave him, but I knew I could not waste precious time arguing. They had would prepare and go back for him, because despite what I had done, they would never leave him. They had been with him through too much.

I knew he was alive. How would he have removed the card otherwise? Only he would have known to take that particular card, would have known its meaning.

It was quiet in the air. Too quiet, with only the occasional sound coming from one of the birds. With the lid latched and locked, I couldn't even peek out, not that either guard probably wanted to look at me right now, not the woman who had betrayed the employer they were so fond of. Not the cropped hair, another sign of treachery, or the small squares of rence that were now, laying in my lap, wrapped in leather. Ahns passed, and with each tick of time, I grew more fretful. Would they allow me to go back with them when they tried to rescue him? I wasn’t sure, I wasn’t trusted.

I had done this.. to him and he'd probably never want me again. Cramped from staying so long in one position, I crawled to the wall of the basket, trying to look out between the weaves to see if we were close to population. The red curls, which were now actual.. curls instead of the normalcy of frizzy mane, bobbed around my cheeks. "I'm sorry August." Whispered to nothing save the
wind.

Oracle

Being away from my cards for so long now, was having its own connotations. I was starting to get nose bleeds. I was starting to get headaches. My emotions were on edge and I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should. I could think if nothing but retrieving those significant squares that had always been there for me, that had been caressed by the hands of my ancestors. I was a woman possessed, and in want of only one thing. The cards, for I would surely die without them, or worse, be driven insane by the whispers.

We had left the anarchy of camp behind us, each of the children that August had saved placed with a relative. They would rebuild.. and stay, refusing to leave their homes. The next time I’m sure they thought they would be more prepared. I wondered how many times they’d thought that.

We were on our way back to the tarn. Back to the sanctity of civilization where people were not considered a delicacy. And I was breaking down, apart, the product of legends and lore was going to come to an end, and I was to be the last sacrifice, my cards having been left in Tukuli’s camp with our escape.

I am not normally a selfish woman. In fact, it is usually to the opposite extreme, giving too much of myself to those I care for.

I have never been able to explain the connection of cards, with their frayed edges and faded pictures, the emotion that burns through me when I touch them. I had always thought I was born for them and that we would never be separated, but here I was, stranded without their whispers, and faced with insanity at the sounds of their screams.

How could I possibly make him understand.

But I was not the only one who was fighting for those slender, silken threads of reality. He was alive. He was awake. I might not have tokens of my ancestors, but I did have him. I had agreed to continue with them. A small voice in my head repeated that it was only paper, but another incessantly argued that I had been responsible for taking care of them. That I was to never leave them. Generations. Ties.. bonds. Bond that could not even be broken by former.. possessors.

Today, however, my selfishness would override everything, my terror at what I would become without them would prevail and August would relent. Even though I asked him not to go. I knew the risk. But I also knew that if anyone could do it, he could. But at what price? He called me a martyr and took off through the jungle, with me following him as best I could, calling out to him, pleading that he not take the chance, but it was too late, and soon he had disappeared into the foliage. I had guilted him to get what I wanted. I knew it, I was sorry for it, and I hoped he would come back with them.

I was not a popular woman with Silas and Jonah and I was told if August did not return, that I would be delivered with garnish back to the mamba, which I knew was no less than I deserved.

Dinner Bell

I think they thought me dead. Maybe I should have been. I heard one of the men tell him they needed to see if I was alright. August answered by rising, with me still in his arms, and backing further into the water, growling at them, unwilling to concede what was his. Though he could harm me as he liked, he was, in essence, protecting me from harm from others. I know this because when Jonah darted him, August turned so that I would not be harmed.

I don’t know how many darts it took to tame him. I was carried to the beach, as well as August, both of us laid out on the sands. We three had entered onto this island with no weapons, and yet, Silas and Jonah had found one. It seemed that Silas had stepped on a thorn and had been.. tamed a good half an ahn. No wonder they hadn’t found me sooner.

Silas asked me if August had attacked me, or had.. sex with me. I didn’t want to answer, not totally, so I told them I was attacked by a wild beast. Not so far from the truth.

My cards. They were still back at Tukuli’s camp. It’s hard to try and put into words my.. relationship with them. They are an extension of me, no more or less than my hand or my foot. To go on without them was a blasphemy that I could not, would not do. For the majority of my life they have been a part of me and I had become a part of them. I had been taught from a young age that should I ever desert them, I would die. That they would chose the time and place of separation, not I. This had been forced into me over and over again, until my faith in them was such, that I believe it. I have always heard them. Voices that whisper. I have been told before that it was not the cards, that they were only a tool of divination, that the true power laid with me. This was never something I accepted as truth. It couldn’t be true, for it went against everything I had been taught, everything I knew as fact. My father was of high caste, a quiet Scribe who loved my mother dearly, a women of the Tuchuks, who held with her own superstitions. Superstitions that she had passed down to her daughters, legends that held the history of our ancestors. It was because of my mother’s superstitions that she had insisted I sold in my nineteenth year. If not, she was certain that I would not make it to my twentieth.

Men have tried to come between me and the cards before, and had always lost. I have never chosen anyone over what I have always perceived to be my destiny. Those ancient, faded squares of rence have always defined me, and to be separated from them for any length of time, would destroy me.

I had hoped they would understand, but they did not. I was told we would not go back for them, that we would continue on our way and head back home. I can not explain my fear at hearing this. I would have rather taken my chances at being.. soup.

August awoke, not at all happy about being darted, but he didn’t retaliate. Instead, he started walking, and I, with the help of Jonah and Silas, half carried by both of them, followed him.

They were talking to me about August, about his unconscious state when we’d brought him to the island. But August corrected them in their conclusion. He’d not been unconscious, but paralyzed, which meant he had known, felt, saw, heard and experienced every horror since we had come here. How could one every be normal after that?

We were led to the water and August waded in. Seemed we were going.. for a swim. I took turns hanging on from one guard, then another, until we felt the pull of a tow, which to my amazement, floated us into an opposite shore. Jonah congratulated him on his brilliance. This was proof that somewhere, my August was still in there.

Undaunted and unneeded of rest, he continued, leading us to civilization. Well, if one could call a small town on the outskirts of the jungle.. civilization. Living quarters were as crude, or near so, as the village of Tukuli, but we were granted a hut. August procured a pair of pants, that were too short, and though he would not grant me clothes, I was afforded a blanket to cover myself with.

August brought us food. Or.. saw to it that we were brought food. I wasn’t hungry but I forced myself to eat. The men were talking between themselves, but that abruptly stopped with the return of August, who now had two girls accompanying him, one on each arm. He was.. kissing them each in turn.

I wasn’t ready for the surge of emotions that flashed through me. Hurt.. and jealousy. Mostly jealousy. I was surprised by my own response, by the passion that was forcing my blood to boil. I actually had to look away. I’ve never really had to put a cap on my feelings before, not like this. But then, I’ve never truly been companioned before either. I have been experiencing many.. firsts.

He tasted each or them before tossing them in turn to his men. He had seen to their comforts, and now that he was free, I would be seeing to his. Amongst the guttural grunts and groans of the hut, he ate. He had a boy bring wine. He commanded me to kneel in front of him, drank from the bottle, then leaned down to kiss me, spraying the unswallowed liquid into my mouth. It burned going down.

With the obscenities that filled the hut and the lusty response from coming from the currently enraptured, he unlaced his pants. I, still too sore do be the dutifully good companion, pleased him in another way, my past relationships truly exterminated. And though he was not rough with me and I did not feel at any time he meant to hurt me, I knew my.. August had changed.

Hadn’t we all.

My being marked as his was now complete, and in some .. odd way, I was reborn. Though one can never be completely innocent again, it was as close as I would ever come to knowing no one but him. I would not miss my past or those who had betrayed me.

Only when I had gathered my wits was I aware of the commotion going on outside. There were screams and cries and sounds of upheaval, unparallel to anything I have ever heard before. The village was being attacked, raided by the men of Tukuli, and it wasn’t the prize of slaves they hoped to gather, but human cattle. The natives were restless. And hungry.

He pulled me to my feet, kissed the corner of my mouth, then jerked me out the door towards safety. Jonah and Silas were somewhere behind us, heard but not seen. He was pushing me up into a tree, where I would not only be concealed and free from danger, but I would have a perfect vantage point to watch from.

It was chaos. People were running in all directions, trying to get away. Some were cut down immediately, but most, I believe, were taken alive. Then there was the child.

She came from one of the huts, a little girl now amongst the madness. . August had seen her and had wasted no time in going after her. I had thought, for just a heartbeat, that he might get out without being seen, but this was not to be. I felt panic. For him, for the child that I had thought he was trying to save. I say.. thought, because when he was hemmed in by the natives, he growled and bit into the child’s shoulder. It was proof enough that he was one of them, he with the symbols that that had inflicted upon him and they gave him no quarrel. She was hoisted up into the tree with Silas for safety.

He did this over and over again, pulling out children, swiping them beneath the noses of natives, posing as one of them. In many ways, he was one of them, and I silently wondered where the line would be drawn. When all was over and done, he had saved a total of nine. In that instant, I knew that I had forgiven him for his previous night’s treatment of me.

I also knew that my respect for him was growing. Too, was my affection.

Malignant Moonlight

I don’t think, even had I been given a handbook on what to expect, that I would have.. expected what I was about to bear witness to.

Night had fallen on the jungle, and I can not reiterate what a surreal place it is at night. Its far different than it is during the day, for at night, anything seems plausible. I had been led into one of the huts, while I stood quietly while the other women.. decorated me in paint. When I was finished, they attended to themselves. I hoped this was a sign that I was not to be.. soup.

There was a large fire blazing and cracking and hissing, and dark bodies surrounding it, all painted with various streaks of paint, which gave them a horrific, skeletal appearance.

I wondered if I looked that like and for a moment, I’d wished I had a mirror so that I could see my reflection.

I caught glimpse of Silas and Jonah, painted, who were on the opposite side of the fire. We had all been invited to be a part of it.. whatever .. it .. was.

When Tukuli appeared, all fell silent. He spoke, and sometimes his words were repeated. I tried to follow along because I did not want anyone to think I was being disrespectful. I was always a few motions behind, though.

Then I saw him. August.

His head had been shaved and the entirety of his body had been covered in symbols. I thought, for a moment, that he had been painted as well, but when I neared him, I realized that it was not paint, but tattoos. Four men carried him on a stretcher to Tukuli. I had said August’s name beneath my breath, and had been slapped on the arm for it by the woman next to me.

There is a certain mysticism in a chant, and though I did not understand the words, the ceremony was certainly having in impact on those around me, including Silas and Jonah. With the haunting beat of drums, voices rang forth and arms were raised towards the sky. It was as if .. something was taking possession of them. I felt as if I was seeing things, and I wondered if someone had slipped something into my food. Now, I was being the practical one. August might have been proud of me.

There was dancing and the eerie chanting continued. I don’t know how much time elapsed, I only know, that when it was over, I was sweating profusely and the energy seemed to have been sucked from me.

But it wasn’t over. Not even in the silence the followed, was there an ending.

We tracked through the jungles and towards the water. Villagers touched him. Silas had as well, but his purpose was more prudent. He nicked him. August bled. Still.. alive. This small favor brought me joy.

A boat awaited him and August was put upon it. Only one of our party was allowed to accompany him on his journey. I was glad it was Silas. The ceremony had come to a close.

I walked behind Jonah and Tukuli, quietly listening as Jonah asked questions. August had been taken to a place.. where the dead could become the living. His words chilled me. August was to be buried alive in the sands. It was the one thing he made us all promise not to do.. bury him alive. I turned and ran back to the water, screaming his name. The boat was gone, with August on it. We had.. murdered him.

Silas had returned the next morning and explained what had taken place. They had buried August in the sand.. red quicksand that had held the blood of those before him, his wrist tied on to a rope, the rope tied to an overhanging tree. Then they had.. lowered him and he had been left. Left to die.. or live, as the gods would have it.

For three days I worked and toiled, trying to assuage my guilt. And at night, I was forced to share the furs with Tukuli. I did so with the mechanics of an unemotional woman, offering no more of myself than I had to give to survive. Three days of an emotional heartbreak that I had not experienced since the death of my son.

It seemed like the eve of that third night would never come, when we would all be allowed to go back to the island to see what August’s fate had been. I was praying, that if he was to be like the man I saw in the village, that he would indeed be dead.. and stay that way.

The three of us, Silas, Jonah and I, were loaded into the boat and poled across the water to the mysterious island that I had only heard about. We were soon caught in the thrall of a thick whirling mist, and despite the sultriness of the night, I shivered. I was feeling nauseated from worry and grief.

We drifted in this miasmic fog slowly, until finally, we felt the lurch of land beneath the boat. We were there, one step closer to a knowledge that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Though the foliage on the island was thick, the path was relatively cleared. How many had traveled this same route? And how many had come to a bitter end by doing so? The further we moved into the center of the island, the more the mist seemed to clear, until finally we were there, at the tree, the rope still hanging solemnly from the tree branch above.

One of the natives hooked a pole around it and pulled on the rope. I wasn’t breathing. I think even, at this point, my heart had ceased to beat, and I was surely as dead as the man who we would find on the opposite end of the rope. Despite the fact that I do not pray, I was praying hard.

The end of the rope came up empty. It had been untied. Silas moved forward to examine the rope, and when we turned, the natives were gone. They had left us, disappeared like wraiths into the womb of night, either to our doom, or to our glory, none of us were certain.

Now we had to find him. Tukuli had told us they always go towards the water, but under the intense blanket of fog we had arrived in, and the blackness of night, I’m not sure any of us knew exactly which way the water was. So we walked and eventually arrived at a beach.

It wasn’t the beach we had arrived at. Nothing was familiar. Silas and Jonah had moved onward, bidding me to stay near the fringes of the jungle until they checked things out. I obeyed accordingly.

I heard something behind me and was about to turn to see what it was, but before I could, I felt the wrap of arms around my body and a hand clamped over my mouth as I was pulled back into the cover of jungle. I twisted, but freedom was impossible, escape only an illusion. When my captor thought we were a safe distance from the men who had been protecting me, he pushed me to the ground, and straddled me, holding my wrists crisscrossed over my chest. Markings. It was August.

His hair had grown, long and wild and full of dried red sand. He leaned over me, his nose pressed to my throat.. and sniffed. I wasn’t sure if thought me.. food, and would simply rip me to shreds. This went on for several ehns, before he grabbed the dark braid I had woven into my hair. His scent. He knew that I.. somehow, belonged to him. I reiterated this with words of my own. Yours, I had told him, hoping he understood me. I was trying my best to communicate with the beast.

His face moved downwards, over my stomach, smelling. Even though I had taken careful pains to scrub Tukuli off of me every morning, August could still smell him on me. He grabbed my arms and jerked me upwards, enraged. I had been tainted. His possession.. had been.. defiled, and now it was his job to.. correct things.

He had bedded me only once, the night of our companionship, and that had been cut short because of pressing dangers. But what was to come was not a sexual consenting of two adults. I have, in the past, been taken against my will. But what was to come was nothing that I have ever experienced.

He drove into me without clemency, over and over again. I tried to push him, I tried to gain leverage against his assault, but there was no contest of strengths that would never be matched. I was his, to do with as he pleased, and this.. seemed to please him.

I felt wetness the wetness between my legs and knew that it was blood. I tried to surrender my body as best that I could, hoping to ease both pain and damage as he continued his savage invasion. I remember screaming, over and over, and I thought that it was over, but he had merely stalled to turn me, seeking his revenge in an alternate position, and a new agony, that try as I might, I could not crawl away from.

I begged for an oblivion that refused to give me sanctuary.

Nails raked over my neck leaving clawed red ribbons in his wake. I could feel him licking at the blood that pooled through the scratches, but even that did not seem to satisfy him. Several times he nipped and broke skin, then lapped at the essence he had freed. And somewhere, deep inside me, something else was released. Through the magnified pain of rape, were twinges of pleasure incurred by the possessive bites.

If he was trying to purge the shadowed demons of the men before him, he had succeeded.

I don’t remember being picked up and carried to water, but he had me, or at least conscious threads of me, draped against him. I thought for a moment that he was simply going to drown me. I would not have fought against him, merely succumbed to the sea, but he held me secure. He was actually holding me tenderly and his cheek was nuzzling mine as he rocked me back and forth in the water.

Silas and Jonah must have heard my screams, because they found us there, August refusing to relinquish his hold on me. I was his, not to be given over to another, even if it was for medical treatment. With so many wounds, I would not heal quickly. I didn’t matter now. I had been.. purified.

Yes, they always go to water. Tukuli had been right.

Tukuli

We left immediately. August was strapped to one of the men’s back, while I endured the basket. I busied myself, weaving the lengths of August’s earlier sawed off hair in a long braid, which I weaved into my own hair. It was busy work, so that I wouldn’t have to sit and stare, but too, it forced him to be close to me. I don’t even know if I understood what I was doing at the time, just that I needed to do.. something, and this was the best I could come up with.

We were headed into the jungle, where none of us knew what would happen. When we finally arrived, the birds were set down in a clearing. My sense of direction, was off from being in the basket and I wasn’t sure in which direction we’d be going. That wouldn’t be a problem though, because instead of us finding a man named Tukuli, the natives would find us.

I’ve been to Schendi. It’s where Charm was born. I’ve walked in its sands and met the locals. None of that.. was like this. These men were primal, not that far up the food chain from an animal. I’d heard talk of cannibalism, but I never thought that I would meet it face to face.

Jonah was the first to try and make nice. I had taken a step back, only to find that I had traded one type of confinement for another. One dark skinned man pulled me back, while another lifted the a bright red strand of auburn to study it. Then they started to strip me, not only me, but when I looked up, Silas and Jonah were in s similar state of undress. I tried to hide myself with the aid of hands and hair. I was starting to realize that this was becoming less of an adventure, and more of a fight for me life.

Finally, someone had gotten the man’s name who we’d come to see right and we were jerked up and on our way, I hoped, to meet him. August was carried between two of the natives, the only one left of us who was still clothed.

The village consisted of grass huts, which I had expected. The villagers, were all black skinned or dark brown. There were no lighter colored people in the village that I could see, save us. The women all wore grass skirts and there hair was cropped short. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb, with my too white skin and bright red hair was an understatement.

Children ran around the village, naked, and the men wore loin cloths and they looked every hort the savages that I had heard about. Their hair was fashioned into snakelike coils and their bodies had dark markings on them, which I could only assume boosted of their achievements.

We were tethered to thick posts at one side of the camp, while this.. Tukuli.. was sent for. I was the albino bosk of our little party. I was prodded and poked, my hair pulled, and several strands were actually pulled from my head by the women who were inspecting me, then held up for the others to see, signifying their prize. Even as I write this, days later, my hand shakes. It was a terrifying experience.

When the elder arrived, August was the first of his he moved to. There was something taped to my companion’s chest, an idol that he had found in his travels, and one that he had hoped to barter his life against. The man circled him before pulling off August’s blindfold. Too, the tape was removed in such a fashion, he took several of his eyelashes with it when he pulled. August’s eyes open, and I found that I was holding my breath.

He drew a scratch down his cheek with his ring, and to my relief, it bled. He was still alive.

The idol was taken from his chest and fixed atop the staff he held. Back in its rightful place, one long ago stolen. I silently prayed it would be enough.

Only then did Silas speak, asking if he could heal August. Tukuli laughed I knew he understood. He spoke our language.

His accent was thick and rumbled with disuse. The way he worded his sentences with the added emphasis on the wrong syllable, or sometimes the wrong word altogether made it sound like he was speaking a completely different language then what we spoke. His message, however, could not have been clearer. August was dying, and Tukuli did not seem to want to help him. We were non believers in his eyes. No, not we. I.. believed.

And just like that, as if he’d heard my thoughts, he turned to me, wanting to know if I was a gift. It was made clear to him by one of the guards that I was the mate of the man near death, and this man, this dark skinned man that boosted of beads and power, leaned in to sniff me. “Then I should wake him.” I think my heart skipped a beat… or three.

Tukuli said that a man who dies.. and returns, is not the same as the man who died. I could see the logic in this. How could one ever be the same after such a significant happening?

In the end, it was the return of the idol that had swayed the village elder to help him. August was lifted and carried off. We three were allowed to remain in the village. I use the word allowed here liberally, because I’m not sure any of his would have been given our leave, should we have wanted it. He told me in his rough dialogue that my hair was beautiful.. and yet, offensive, and that he wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to keep it, or if he would shave it off. I kept my silence.

We were given clothing and expected to work. Frankly, I was glad for any reason to not think about what was to come. I was given one of the grass skirts that the native women wore and it constantly itched, though I did not dare to complain. The men were given loin cloths. I worked as hard as any of the natives. I grinding grain and cleaning tarsk pens. I did whatever was bid of me. And when the work day was over, I was given food that I dare not eat, unless it was fruit that I could identify.

A boy had drawn my attention to a man, one who.. was alive, but not. Files buzzed about his head and he stood staring at a post. He was emaciated, as if he was slowly starving to death. I didn’t know if it was a lack of will to survive, or something else completely. This, if I understood the child well enough, could be August.

It wouldn’t be long before we found out.

House of Cards

Usually, readings are not filled with an overabundance of emotion for me or the other party, but this was one of the most emotional, no, it was the most emotional reading I have ever given.

We had stopped in Argentum, where August could consult with a doctor, and where I was looking forward to sleeping in a soft bed.

I told him I should read for him. I was curious to know what lay ahead and I thought the cards might offer some direction. I should have known better though, for where they are concerned, things never go quite as planned. He indulged me.

We arrived at the room at the inn. The first thing on my mind was a hot bath, but instead we proceeded with the reading first. I pulled a low table over and sat on its opposite side, facing him. The first card was not in good favor, the second, benign as well. But the third card, the card of his future, was something altogether different. And I didn’t want to tell him what it was. He had tried to stop me earlier, but I had continued. Now, I was more than willing to .. quit.

I shuffled the cards back into a stack and started to rise, hoping he would forget the whole thing. He had no intention of doing that. Forgetting.

August has not been an emotional person since I’ve met him. Everything is always calculated out to the very last detail. And now, he wanted to know.

He nudged the table towards me, in an effort to get me to talk. The cards were screaming in my head because the last one had not been detailed to he who turned it. I told him what it had said. There would be disconnection, a delay in a journey, interruption and detainment in the perfection of work. Something was not reliable. Had I only known then what I know now. There would be failure to meet a deadline, an unrealized purpose. I didn’t, however see death. I should have told him that, but it didn’t even occur to me to do so. I tell what I see, not what I don’t see.

He didn’t seem to believe any of the reading, and yet, he became angered at it anyway. He tried to rationalize it, explain and all the while I felt like he was trying to convince himself, instead of me, a woman who does not work with facts. His anger seemed to grow with every word, and soon the guards had come in, wanting to know what was going on. His hands hit the wood on the table and I heard .. bones crack.

I wasn’t sure if he was angry at me, or his situation, or both. I came to the conclusion quickly that it was probably both and that I would do well to not mention the cards again. I had hit a nerve.

Silas and Jonah were quick when August went down to the floor in a heap. I had brought this on, with my reading. I had compounded the vein to throb at his temple, impelled his anger and now, I had caused him to bleed because he’d hit the corner of the table when he fell.

I wasn’t being quite the help that I had anticipated on this journey.

I was trying to sneak out of the room, into the bathroom, figuring I had caused enough trouble, when I was bid to get a cloth.. and a knife. In my past, those two things are seldom a good combination.

Silas pulled out a boot knife and handed it to August, where he proceeded to pull his hair back into a pony tail.. and saw with the blade. It was done so that the guards could tell where the blood was coming from. Turned out, it was coming from his ear. I traded the cloth that I had gotten him for the length of hair, hair that I had no intention of tossing it out, so instead I tied it off with a ribbon and put it in my pack.

First, he had lost his sight. Now, I was afraid he was going to lose his hearing. Time was ticking by far more quickly than I wanted it to. He made us promise, Jonah, Silas and me, that if we thought him dead, that we were to wait four days before we buried him. If he was truly dead by then, his body would start to decay. If not.. we would be burying him alive. A sobering thought.

I had turned, back towards the bath, then paused, turned, and invited him to come as well. I was trying to make up for the reading, of upsetting him so badly. He refused me.

The guards left and I went back to him. My comfort of bath was forsaken for him. I felt the need to show him that I really was there for him. I sat beside him for a long while in quiet, before my hand lifted to lay on his arm. Instinct was driving me closer to him. There would be no more consulting the cards where he was concerned.

He left me and moved into the bathroom, having decided I could wait, that I could bathe after he was done. I supposed I could.

Earlier, when we had been walking through the streets towards the inn, I had seen a ring in one of the storefront windows when we passed, and promised myself, that if time allowed, I would go back and get it for August. I wanted him to have.. something from me, to remind him, that even if we were apart, a piece of me would always be with him.

I had told Silas that I was leaving, and was immediately waved off by Jonah. He told me I was always.. leaving. I’d only done it once before, and that was to see Olivia. So, I decided to pass on the ring and sat on the couch, awaiting my turn in the bathroom. It wouldn’t come.

There was a crash and I jumped up, afraid that August had fallen again. Jonah and Silas were right behind me. This time.. it wasn’t a fall, it was much worse.

August was now comatose.

Till Death do us Part

His Only.

I was trying to understand what he meant. His only friend? I know he doesn’t have many. He’s a loner, like me, like most of the people I choose to be friends with.

We had left AR and begun our journey to Schendi. It was evening and we had stopped to camp, to give the birds a rest and to eat. I was about to say something to him in reply, when he stood, swayed, dropped the plate he was holding, and fell down to one knee in a tragic teeter. There was blood oozing from his eyes, his ears. I moved to his side immediately, but I didn’t know what to do for him.

His guards too were there, but he commanded them away so that he could speak to me without them hearing. He tugged me down to his level, pulling my face to his, bidding me to listen to what he had to say. He told me he didn’t think he was going to make it. That.. brought form a panic from me, words I did not wan to hear. He had told the men whom he hired that he was an entertainer, but truly, he was a Scribe. He had no family. He had.. no one, except me, his only.

His hand tightened in my hair, he wanted me to take what was his, to.. inherit what he had, after the guards pay. To do that, I was to companion him.

After several days of knowing me, he was willing to take me as his companion and leave to me all that he owned. If I denied him, he would send me away.

I have never been companioned. Not legally, not truly. Castor, once, had gone through the motions, but then he had told me later that it hadn’t been legal. He had allowed me to believe that we were, and then had pulled the rug out from beneath me with his lie. That had hurt me in ways I never let him know, even more than the fact he could never be faithful to me. I was never.. enough. I was never.. his only.

Lucian, he had said he would not deny me, if I asked him for companionship. I never asked though, it just wasn’t something I could .. do. He too had promised me things but at the first sign of difficulty, he had left me alone and taken our daughter. He did not even try to talk to me, to work it out, had simply ended it. Now I realize that he never cared for me, not the way I cared for him. I promised myself .. after, that I would not so easily fall again. Trust, it’s a hard thing to gain, but an even harder thing to hold.

And now, here was a man who was asking me, no, insisting that I be his companion. Not because he loved me, but because he wanted me to have what was his. Why? Because I had chosen to come with him and asked for nothing.

We drank the wine with the guards as witness.

I didn’t agree because of any material wealth he had to give me, if he did indeed.. die. In truth, I didn’t want anything from him, I .. just wanted to be with him. That sounds strange, as I write this now, days later, for if I would have opened my eyes and only looked, I think I would have seen things much differently.

One of the guards insisted that the companionship must be consummated, so August sent them away under the pretense that it would be. I don’t think he really had any intention of fulfilling that part of our obligation, but a kiss had escalated into something neither of us could deny. And of course there was no doubt of it when we were caught in the act, having to break camp in a hurry because of the wild tharlarions that were headed our way.

He promised that if he survived, he would not hold me to contract. I promised him until death do us part.

August had lost his sight that night, but he was not the only one there who could not see, for never in my life have I been.. so blind.

The Five of Swords

He was the last person I would have expected to see in Schendi, the man of few words and even fewer expressions, but see him I did. It would seem everyone, sooner or later, has business here.

I found him at the inn, a break taken between packing Charm and my things, and trying to keep my daughter entertained. Neither or which affords me an easy task.

Set in a room of strange snippets of conversation, he reminded me that the card he had given me had tonight’s date on it. Could I really have forgotten that? Or was he.. misrepresenting the truth to get his way. I would not know immediately, the card already packed away amongst my things. Not that it mattered in the slightest, for I never turn down a reading. I can not, for the cards are too eager.

We left the inn, the three of us, I having not had time to procure someone to watch over Charm. I do not take her to readings with me, for obvious reasons, but tonight she would join us on the path to .. enlightenment.

We seated ourselves in the sand, and to my surprise, he offered to hold my daughter.. to free my hands. Not that I really needed my hands free after the initial shuffling, but he seemed to think that he would be helping, only I believe he was helping himself more then he was me.

I hesitated, but in the end, logic won out. Despite the fact that I am a seer of worlds that are invisible to others, I tend to be a rational person. Odd, that.

Charm took to him immediately and I am not certain how that makes me feel. With Quinn, it was different. He seemed to know what my child wanted, but this man, he was completely without clues, stumbling on how to even hold her. Lucky for the both of us, Charm is a good child and she would break him in quickly.

The cards were laid out by his hand, a pattern of reading concluded. The Five of Swords had come up again, the card of defeat, the card was following him.

The Six of Swords, the card of travel, of recovery.. depression. Though he had picked up the pieces of his life and was moving on, the place he was moving towards was not a positive one.

He wanted to know how long it would last, but that of course, was up to him.

Charm seemed quite content, having found a new toy in the locks of Lucian. She is not like me in the respect that she knows no strangers. I’m not sure if this is a baby thing, if all children possess it, or if she will grow out of it as she ages.

His look to me was accusatory, he perhaps thinking that I, in some malignant way, had an actual hand in his fate. A normal reaction for those that don’t understand. I was not offended. I understood more of how he was feeling then he did. It is human nature to want to place blame. Who better to blame then the bizarre woman who can see and hear what no one else can.

The Four of Coins. The card of possessiveness and control. The cards do not lie, but neither do they tell all. Information comes in sporadic whispers and flashing images. There are times I do not comprehend their meanings, am nothing more than a simple tool to relate messages. But this time the cards were clear in their explanations. Perhaps they sought to warn him. Or me.

“Now yours.”

Little did he realize I could not refuse his request, even if I had wanted to. A reading may never be turned down. I have no say on who I read for. The cards often choose, but to deny them could be .. disastrous. There curse, is my curse.

Shuffled and cut, my deck was set in front of me. I did not deem to look at the cards, even as I turned them over. I already knew what they would say. The spoke to me loudly, mocking me, taunting me, all the while knowing I must share their whispers.

The Ubara of Coins is a mothering card. A card of perception. A card of trust. A card of benevolent and submissive tendencies.

The Warrior of Wands. A somewhat unbalanced personality. A solitary card. Being devoured by past fears. My insides were quivering, too much being revealed too quickly.

Charm became antsy and I offered to take her, but he refused. He pulled the pink blanket over her head, to which she responded by pulling it off and trying to cover his face. Her first game of peek a boo, taught by a man who hadn’t even realized he’d done so.

As much as I would have liked to bury the remaining card in the sand, such was not to be. The Seven of Wands, reversed as was the Warrior. Passiveness. A card of waiting, of holding back, of letting go. "This card is about taking a stand, but in its twisted state, it decrees the exact opposite. I am a woman that hides in the light, one that loses her nerve easily, one that is often afraid to take action, one who bows down to the others, always looking for ways to compromise. Many disapprove of me, and I often feel as if I am in great physical harm. My life is laced with doubt and confusion. Obstacles."

The closed book of my past was now flayed open for him to see, and though secrets still hid within the pages of my life, the words were written in a strong hand, easily read. In the few ahns that we had spent together, he knew me almost as well as Kain, even if he didn’t understand me.

I think he actually tried to console me, brief as it was. Something I was sure he wasn’t used to.

“Approval is highly over rated, but I suppose some do need it.”

"I do not seek approval. I am what I am, though few understand me. I do not hide behind a tea cup or set myself above others and I do not gossip, but neither do I wish to be the topic of unkind conversation."

Again, more than I wished to say, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. The words were pushed past my lips before I could control them. This would be a sign of things to come.

“And she will be the same, or no?”

He was talking of Charm, who even now, wiggled to release herself from his hold.

Yes. I answered him that and more. On her nineteenth turning she would, like her mother, be enslaved. I hadn’t meant to tell him so much about her, about me.

By the end of the evening, I had agreed to work for him, spending one week in AR, for the grand opening of his new school, all expenses paid.

As brief as my stay in AR might be, I am going.. home.