by Conny Conway
Chapter 4
Shiloh was just as breathless at the end of the descent as she had been on the way up.
Her mouth was parched from gasping the dry, dusty air.
Lann and the girl had arrived next to her and Lann gave her a sour stare as she licked her dry lips.
“I would offer you a swallow of water but someone dumped it in the fire.”
He snapped.
“What else should I have done?” she retorted. “Let that nasty fire beast eat us?”
“Ever heard of killing flames with dirt? There was more than enough up on the top of that God forsaken pyramid.”
She grimaced and stuck, as childish at it seemed, her tongue out.
He stared merciless at her.
“Very adult like.”
“Stop!” The little girl demanded with a choked sob.” You said you know what to do to break the spell.”
The two adults peered at the child, guilt written all over their faces.
“Where is your mother?” Shiloh broke the silence finally.
The kid lead them to a woman dressed in faded jeans and a dirty white blouse. Her once beautiful face was also smeared with dirt and soot. Her blond hair greasy and dusty, uncombed it was a nest of lice.
A small breeze stirred Shiloh’s own hair, but the woman’s stayed frozen in time, just like the woman seemed to be a grotesque statue, a stationary disturbance of air next to her left shoulder.
Butterflies drew their circles in Shiloh’s abdomen as she spotted the distortion.
It looked weird, she could see through it, but everything behind it seemed imprecise.
She shook her head over her musings and let go of the girl's hand.
“Now, Sweetling, tell your Mom the truth and swear to her you’ll do your chores and penance as you're told.”
Her heart heaved at the thought of the flames engulfing the child on daily basis, but there was nothing Lann nor she could do.
“And you have to mean it.” Lann added gently.
With huge eyes the child looked from one to another, then turned her gaze to motionless mother.
“Momma,” she pleaded.” forgive me. I am so sorry I lied to you. I will never do it again. From this day on, I swear, I will do my chores, will feed the chickens and do….”
A sob interrupted her oath. She swallowed hard while a huge tear drop fell down onto the dry ground.
“I will do my... Penance, no matter how much it hurts.” She concluded.
Her little shoulders shook under the onslaught of weeping, though she slung her small arms around her mother’s waist, where she buried her face into the folds of the dirty blouse.
Her tears soaked up by the material, thoroughly penetrating the fabric and the salty water wetting her mother’s hip.
The breeze increased and the hair of the woman in the child’s embrace was gently moving in the wind’s wake.
Shiloh starred when the woman’s eyes blinked once, then again and again; the chest started to heave and breathe was sucked in deeply.
The foot, which had been frozen in midair as in walking, touched the ground and the woman came to life.
Her searching eyes found the child.
“Oh, my Baby,” she cried. “What had you done?”
“I’m sorry, Momma.” the girl whimpered.
The woman started to pet the child’s head, which was still leaned against her own body.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“It’s okay now, Baby. You freed us from the curse just as well as you had put it on us. There might be hope for you after all.” she exclaimed, holding back her deep emotions for the child.
Hell was not a place to show your love openly, though a Mother’s love will never be extinguish completely. Her gaze turned to Lann and his companion.
“Thank you.” she whispered. ‘'We owe you.”
Shiloh had not listened to a word she had said, her eyes had been transfixed on the air disturbance, which just like the whole town had come to life. It floated in immense speed around the woman’s top.
Every so often the Mother, still with her child clinging to her, swatted at the whirling air, to no avail. It kept swirling around the head in a circular motion, dragging the hair in its path at times.
Shiloh tried to predict where the disturbance would be in the next second and reached to that spot.
Something hit the palm of her hand with an audible smack, it felt like the scuffle of air was sliding down her hand and then her lower arm.
In this process the distortion took first a pinkish color, meddled with purple and then shape, it solidified more and more and Shiloh breathed an Oh in awe.
On her arm sat a catlike, pink, furry creature with long ears and a bushy tail. The entire fur was interrupted by purple stripes, similar to a tiger’s body, in contrary to the predatory cat it was not earthbound, because it had feathery wings. Its neck was studded with a brown wide leather collar, garnished by one azure gemstone.
As Shiloh starred at the unbelievable sight a bolt of lightning shot out of the gem and hit her in her heard where warmth spread.
The child’s mother gasped.
”No one was ever able to catch a Matagot in mid-flight.” She exclaimed in wonder.
Lann grunted.
“No human living soul had seen Uffern before.” He snorted, as to say there would be nothing that Shiloh would not be able to do.
The winged cat climbed on her shoulder, snuggled up tenderly and licked Shiloh’s face with its rough tongue.
“What does it mean though?” She inquired.
“A Matagot is unseen a pest, similar to gremlins, destructive and mischievous, it is only seen when caught by anyone, then it will bind for life to its master and brings good luck, according to legend Matagots were very wise, but there are not too many left. As I said, they are somewhat a pest.” Lann explained. His gaze had softened as he watched the human stroke the small cathead, whispering sweet nothings in its ears.
Chapter 5
It was late afternoon when they finally said Good Bye to their new found friends in the village of the damned. With directions, how to cross the hot desert safely and best wishes for their journey, they strolled along the street until it ended in sand.
The Matagot perched purring on Shiloh’s shoulder, where she stroked its tiny head and oversized ears.
“I wish you could talk.” She told the pink fur ball.
“It can.” Lann informed her. “It is said that once a Matagot has bonded and it gets its rightful name, it is able to talk. Though I am not certain what it means that you would be richly rewarded in the end, I guess this is just as mystical as the creature itself. “
“Mystical? I don’t think it is mystical. It is a helpless heap of fluffiness.”
She said quietly.
“Then wait until it talks.” Lann smiled.
Shiloh looked puzzled.
“”Some say it talks in riddle like the sphinx, only failure to solve the riddles doesn’t kill you.” he exclaimed. “Though if a Matagot is your familiar, you will be able to master things unthinkable. At least that what folklore says.”
“What do you think is his name?” Shiloh pondered loudly.
“I do no ken.” Lann shrugged his shoulders.
Shiloh contemplated a while, then rattled off all sorts of cat names.
“I bet your name is Kitten.” This earned her a lick in her ear.
“No? Maybe, Caesar? Mitten? Princess? Tabitha?”
And on and on she guessed all sorts of endearments for felines to the avail that the creature stretched its wings and flew next to her side, no further than a yard or two. It started to increase its speed and flew circles and figure eights around Shiloh’s head.
“I see why you are called a pest when you are invisible.” she grunted. Her eyes trying hard to follow the flight line of the little, pink bolt.
” You are about to give me whiplash.”
She wasn’t too far from the truth, her inners w
ere cramping as she tried to follow the fluffy ball once more with her gaze.
”I wouldn’t wonder….” She started, the feline landing on her shoulder.
Then she spoke out loud. “Your name is Whiplash.”
Lann snorted from laughing, though the purring had stopped.
The purple eyes fixated on Shiloh’s deep green glance as the cat sighed audibly.
“Whiplash. I be Whiplash.”
This exclamation halted both on the spot.
“Goodness, it does talk.” she smiled at the winged feline, which started to purr again in response.
“As I said before, nothing you do amazes me, not even that you discovered the Matagot’s right name.” Lann grinned.
She smile and warmth filled him as he looked at the brightness in her face. Lann didn’t know what it was, but something about this human female made him feel almost….giddy. Him, a demigod being giddy… who had ever heard of such a thing.
Shiloh turned her head back to the catlike creature on her shoulder and asked:
“So, Whiplash, will you tell me where you’re from.”
The Matagot glanced mysteriously from one to another
“My home is in the south,
Where the ocean kisses the streams mouth.
But exiled long ago,
I searched in rain and snow,
In company and alone,
A cave, a house or home,
I searched at day and night,
Aware of the eerie light.
Now, Shiloh is my hold,
With her I will grow old.”
“Hm,” she mused.” This sounded more like future and past, but I still don’t know where you are from.”
The feline repeated its rhyme and Shiloh furrowed her brows. She glanced at Lann.
“You weren’t kidding when you said I wouldn’t understand him.”
“You haven’t heard half of it, yet.” He responded.
“Well, I guess in time we will understand his riddles.” she smiled, stroking the little ball of fur, which had started up the satisfied purring again. “Will you at least tell me how old you are?”
“Time rushes,
Time flushes,
1000 times the ground quaked,
That long for home I ached.”
More riddles, she thought. She snickered to herself.
“Can you also predict the future?”
“I may, I might,
Though if I’m right,
The time will tell,
Send me to hell,
Lift me up to skies,
If true or lies,
Tomorrow is not set in stone,
It depends on you and you alone.”
The hot afternoon sun burned merciless on the three wanderers and she could feel her skin being scorched.
“Don’t we have any water?” She inquired as she turned to Lann.
His gaze stern,
“No, you used it all to…”
“I know.” She sighed. “Don’t rub it in. Will we find water?”
“Why don’t you ask fur ball here.” He suggested.
She turned to whiplash, but before she opened the mouth the winged creature answered.
“If rain would fall,
Then maybe yes,
But above it all,
Be wary what you digest”
She frowned.
“I guess, you mean, no?”
The cat kept quiet.
“Maybe it would be a good idea if you would save your energy for walking and not talking, Shiloh. I really have no clue if there is any water close by.” Lann suggested.
She glanced at him a little furious.
“The heat doesn’t seem to bother you.” she exclaimed.
“It doesn’t.” he replied simply, which earned him another grim look from her, as if to say why not. He continued,” I'm made of the fire element.”
“Oh.” With that Shiloh allowed herself the first real intense look at her companion.
She saw the long auburn mane shining in the evening sun, the deep black eyes, which at times annoyed her and then only to calm her with their intensity.
Her hand wanted to stroke the cleft on his five 0 clock bearded chin, which asked to be touched, instead she lifted her hand to stroke Whiplash again, which savored the tenderness.
The longer she watched the winged warrior the more she felt drawn to him, like from invisible ribbons.
He felt her gaze and turned his head.
“That thirsty, mh?”
She felt caught and nodded, it was not that much of a lie. Then curiosity got the better of her.
“Lann, How old are you?”
“I was one of the first born to the Tuatha Dé Danann. This makes me about 15000 years old.” He answered.
She wanted to tease him about how old he was, but she felt too exhausted and decided to keep that thought for a different time.
“Is there a Mrs. Lann? Not that I’m interested, I just wonder how a female creature like you would look like.” She giggled.
He smiled.
“No, there is not. I’m one of a kind.”
As heat overwhelmed her she wasn’t too sure if it was the desert or his gaze.
Her knees buckled slightly.
She gasped for air and choked on the scorching oxygen.
“Can we rest for a minute?”
“Are you okay?” He requested.
“I don’t know, I’m so hot and my skin burns like hell.”
He grimaced, being reminded where they were.
“Sure we can rest, maybe you should nap until dark, and then it might be easier for you to keep on going.”
“It does get dark here?”
“I’m not sure, but I hope so.”
“Oh, God!”
Shiloh curled into a small ball in the sand, trying to hide from whatever that sun of fire was up there, but there was not even a cactus to shelter her from the heat.
Lann moved closer, opened his wing and provided some shade for her.
She gulped for air at the sight of his burning wing, the beauty of it.
She wanted to compliment him on it, but she was too tired and depleted.
Her eyes were red rimmed and burning from the brightness around her, so she closed them gently, because closing them tightly would hurt also.
A small groan escaped as slumber overtook her.
Lann felt helpless, he wanted so badly to aid her, but he didn’t know how. In his despair he turned to the Matagot.
“You’re no big help.” he grimaced.
The cat did not respond.
“Hey, Fur ball, do something. Fly ahead and search of water.”
“Water flows, nature grows,
Anywhere but here.”
“Are you serious? The one time you don’t speak in riddles you have bad news.”
Hours passed, finally the firmament took a deeper shade of blue, the desert sank into twilight, the heat soared up one more time with all its might and then ebbed several degrees.
He folded his wing and stroked her cheek with his hand.
She was burning hot and her lips looked parched.
He hated to wake her, though it was time to get going, away from here, out of this barren region.
Her eyes flattered open and she sucked the air in, deeply, painfully.
Lann helped her up and without one word spoken they started to walk.
Whiplash meowed gently and broke the silence. Shiloh croaked some gentle words to him.
The dusk deepened, their surrounding vanished under a shaded blanket.
“Why don’t we fly?” Shiloh inquired hoarsely. Her voice breaking from the drought on her tongue.
“Remember how I told you the heat doesn’t bother me?” He saw her nodding. “It’s actually even the opposite, it regenerates the fire in my veins. My body temperature rises with it. If I would touch you for a prolonged period of time you would scorch even more as you are right now. I don’t want to take that chance
.”
Again she nodded mutely.
The hike kept overheating her and Lann mused of the frailty of the human body next to him. He was immortal and had never really pondered mortality, but now, with Shiloh at his side, he did and he cursed inwardly that he had taken her into his cave. He should have known that she would be discovered.
It was his fault. She would die of dehydration or exposure and there was no one else to blame but himself.
Or Balor.
He had thrown them into the pit. The God of death could have wiped her memory and everything would have been the same for her. But no, the monstrous ruler of underworlds had to make an example.
Worse, Lann came to the conclusion that Balor knew, he himself felt something, whatever it was, for the human being and tortured him by hurting her and killing her slowly.
“What is that shadow there ahead.”
Her voice was so husky now that Lann had to guess part of her inquiry.
He lifted his head, peering in the direction she was indicating.
His keen sight made out palm trees, heavy with nuts and bushes and greenery.
His brain tripped a step ahead, where there is green there is water.
“It’s an oasis.” He breathed.
“But…” Shiloh lost her train of thought as Lann increased their tempo and she almost ran to keep up with him.
They reached the fertile ground, no longer dust and sand. This was clay dirt. The plants filled the night air with their aroma.
Shiloh could literally smell the water and she dived into the small pond, drinking and refreshing her needs. She felt stronger with every gulp of water. Finally she scampered back to the shore, her shirt almost translucent with wetness, which revealed more than it hid, wet faced and her thirst quenched.
Lann laughed at her, she ran to him, hugged him so happy to be alive and relieved from the torture of being thirsty. He embraced her and swung her through the air like a little child.
”Boy, I am so glad we found this oasis before you died on me.” He laughed, she laughed with him.
A mournful howling interrupted their release.
Startled they looked around, only to discover the howling came from the little Matagot. They rushed to him, in unison they spoke as they query why the little creature was so mournful, if he was hurt and so on.