14. The death of a child by Thayne
thayne
It was a glorious morning. The bright sun cast distinct shadows across the white limestone of the Palace, disturbed only by the faintest of breezes. The wind coaxed the leaves of the tropical plants to dance in rhythm to the melodious tunes that the garrulously colorful birds sang to their mates. The sun kissed every color of the rainbow, on leaves and petals and feathers, as life bloomed anew. Early spring was announcing its triumphant return by bringing brief afternoon showers and abundant vibrant energy to all that inhabited Fayre Isle.
The Lord of Haven had a tedious morning in meetings. At daybreak he had seen the go-between to the svirfneblin kingdom deep in the Dragon Spine Mountains. The clerical council was next; the stone monoliths that were being cut were nearly complete. Soon they will be ready to be transported for the enchantment process to begin. Pashen had gone to visit the knoll once more. She had ventured in and out of the red mist without incident a couple of times, each voyage put Thayne on edge. Thankfully, she only went when it was absolutely necessary, not wanting the Scion to suddenly object to her presence within the mist. She had to go alone; anyone else that went with her was subject to attack.
Sick of conferences, he made his way down the corridors of the castle and out into the wilderness. Perhaps he could find some meditation time before the kids showed up for Lunch.
About to call up the name of his Goddess, he paused and took a deep cleansing breath. But as he exhaled, he suddenly felt his stomach cramp up with supreme sorrow. His blood chilled and dread possessed his heart. It was radiating from Pashen. Without another thought he reached out to her, <
Across the sea, within the red mist that possessed Haven Valley, the process was reversed. Air burst outward, displaced and at the same moment swallowed by light, tinted red by the blood in the air. As the light dissipated, Thayne found his wife trembling. Her back was to him; drips of bloody moisture fell from the ends of her damp spirals. Rivulets trickled down the leather of her leggings and along the flesh of her ribcage where her favored armor left her body bare. She had been within the crimson vapor for hours, and it had soaked her through.
She was holding both arms up, away from her, almost like she was surrendering to something unseen. Her head was tipped down, and he could hear a strange sound coming from her that he had never heard before. From quivering lips she emitted a pitiful whimper.
Alarm clutched Thayne’s heart. Not only could he feel the emotions from his wife, but the mist had its own personality too. The evil maliciousness of the Scion engulfed the pair. Praying that he would not be attacked, he rushed around her, taking her shoulders within his strong hands. About to yell out a curse to the one that controlled the Scion, his eyes landed upon his wife. What he saw, took his breath away.
Her eyes were downcast to the tiny brown life form attached to the ample swell of one breast. The miniature creature had found its way to the oval of flesh revealed by the armor. A bat, one wing broken in multiple places and the leathery flesh of the other torn with hundreds of holes, had attached itself to his wife. Thayne could just make out a few ribs of the small mammal poking through the once soft fur that covered its body. It was undead. A zombie of the Scion.
There were no words to describe the look on Pashen’s face. She didn’t know what to do, how to respond or how to act. This was one of her offspring, dead and reborn into a monster. The bat drank blood from tiny holes on her breast, which in turn dripped into the mist and fed the Scion. Forever hungry, these undead tried to feed only to have their hard earned meals ripped from their mouths, evaporated into the horrible vapor that kept them animate.
Thayne’s heart tightened, he had looked upon hundreds of dead animals in his life. He was a ranger, and part of being a ranger was understanding the cycle of life. But this was different, this was HIS child and it was not part of that circle. This was unnatural and a curse upon the planet and everything living. “Sweet Angharradh.” He whispered to his Goddess. Fingers carefully engulfed the tiny zombie, and with no warning to his stunned wife, he yanked the creature free. He quickly turned, he couldn’t look at his wife as he did what had to be done. Not only that, he didn’t want her to see or have a second to rise a protest. The batling writhed in his hands hunger fueling its ferocity. Thayne’s eyes lit up with a white light and flames erupted in his hands. Within an instant, it was over; only ash stained his hands, the final remains of their child. At least she would not be used any more.
To Pashen, the pain of ripping the dead offspring away to destroy it wasn’t enough, as soon as Thayne turned; she felt another pair of lips close over the miniscule punctures. Still in a state of despair, disbelief swelled within her. She couldn’t see him but knew he was there, could feel the soft lap of an invisible tongue as intimate as any lover’s caress. Her arms pulled back further away from her body while she whispered a sound of disgust tainted with dismay. Suddenly she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, hoping the contact would dispel the only being capable of pulling such sensations from her breast.
Thayne opened his hands and let the ashes fall from his fingertips. If there was a breeze, it would have swept them away. But within the mist, nothing stirred, not even the wind. “Tis done.” He turned around again, expecting to see his wife to be in a state of mourning. He was surprised to discover otherwise, “What is it?”
The pressure of his caressing tongue and fevered lips remained even with her arms folded tightly. She could feel a hand clutch her ass fiercely and other fingers begin to sensually slide free a buckle. His arrogance and boldness was supreme. The hot rush of fear seared through her, feeding the unnatural spawn and infuriating his amusement. When Thayne spoke, it pulled a possessive growl from the mist that was felt rather than heard. It was enough of a sound to give Pashen the boost she needed to cry out, “Take me from here!”
Thayne’s gaze darted around the mist, fury possessing him. He could feel the brat and in that instant all he wanted was to destroy that bastard once and for all. Hands fisted over the hilts of both blades. His beloved wife had other plans. Before the blades could be freed from their scabbards, she was in front of him, pleading with her eyes. She looked so vulnerable, and it was like a slap across his face, pulling Thayne back to reality. Two forward steps later, he found his hands falling from the swords to embrace her instead.
Even as the white light surrounded the pair, laughter echoed in their ears. It was a hauntingly evil laughter that seemed to course through the entire crimson mist.
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(to be continued … someplace else. )
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Thurs, Apr 24th – 3:06PM