The Scarlet Heron

by Sharilyn Skye

It is because of this that the next day I found her getting ready to ride, clearly wanting some time alone and ended up telling her my entire sordid tale. Well, almost all of it. She was saddling her Guardian when I came over in the afternoon, she said she had spent all day on the internet researching my claims about the Tuatha and her heritage. Again, she told me I was crazy, then she kicked him away, daring me to catch up. Little did she know how accomplished I am at stalking her and that there was no real challenge as her other horse, Imp, was more than motivated to find Tuffy.

  We rode in the comfortable silence. I tried to stay a little behind her so she would not notice that I could not keep my eyes off of her, after months of being at a distance, to finally be able to almost reach and touch her made me speechless. If she caught my expression in those moments she would have likely have found them objectionable at best. She rides like she was born on a horse, like there is constant silent communication, which there could be, but I know there is not as Tuffy has not spoken to her in his life. We rode this way for an hour or so until she began to ask me questions. I could tell she wanted to talk, but was nervous for some reason. Perhaps it was the fact that I had almost killed a human in front of her, perhaps not. She started and stopped half a dozen times before coming right out and asking my age. This devolved into a random explanation of the different types of vampires because she had not yet gotten the guidebook written about us. Somehow we got off our horses and began to talk by a stream and for the first time since my creation, I told another living soul what happened. It is not as if everyone does not know. The tale has been passed around so much that it is almost detailed and horrific enough to be the truth. Almost, but not quite. Maybe in another century or so they will have twisted on on itself enough to be accurate. In telling my tale I realized something. It no longer mattered. The story was so old as to be truly ancient history. Telling it to her and having her hear the horror of it somehow cut the last strings to my past. I came away that night feeling refreshed; even if she does not understand this, it is so. She cleansed the old wound clean and now I hoped it would heal. Do not misunderstand me, should I come across any who were involved in my torture and creation that I am able to end, I will. There is a difference between vengeance for the past and living in it, or so I learned that night.

  We rode home in silence, I could see her shivering in the dark. She had gotten chilled while I prattled on about myself, I sent her inside, taking care of the horses and resolving to find one of those Friesian horses she said she always wanted, little did I know what road that led to. I think of Galahad with a chuckle, he is an opinionated fellow for a Guardian and I can only imagine the conversations he will have with Lara when he can no longer restrain himself.

  Chapter Two

  When I was a boy of little more than Lara’s age now, I was approached by the Goddess of my People. She told me that a great War was coming and that it would take the strength of all her people to survive the tide of change that was coming to our world. She taught me magic like I had never seen and gave me a Guardian of my own. He was a giant, black beast more wild than tame. We did not get along, being both stubborn and strong willed, yet together we were an inexorable force. The Goddess told me that there was great danger on my horizon and that I must tread with care, for I had more enemies than I knew. She spent time with me, teaching, readying and preparing me for what was to come. She taught me the magic of the Gods, I learned to Weave and Unmake among many other things and there was no magic I was taught that I did not take to easily. She is an excellent teacher, sadly that is a skill I did not pick up from her. I have done the best for those in my care, but I am more warrior than teacher, more fighter than professor. I can teach, but the lessons are often quick and harsh and there is no gentleness to it. Not like the Goddess’s way. My children have flourished or not, by my teachings. I have been a kind father, but a task master. I rather think that is a parent’s job.

  The Goddess of our People is different than the Gods of others. She is known to walk and live among us. She appeared to her People often and tried to lead them in the way of a teacher and not in the way of a Queen. She could take any form. She and beings created directly by her hand, were known for their purple aura, but she rarely made these creatures because they were powerful and considered the highest of all blessings. It was not unusual to see her running with a herd of wild horses or flying with a bevy of doves, for she loved her animals. She did not cloister herself and live in solitude. She had lovers and children of her own. This was known by all. Her children lived among us, their identities kept secret, she loved her People the same as her children so there was no jealousy. Her power was unlimited and she nurtured well the land. I do not know what happened to her after my exile from Faerie. Perhaps she diminished as the power of the land wilted. Many Gods became extinct after the One God came and many others lost power and became obsolete. I do not know the fate of my Goddess. I did not speak to her after my punishment, not until I met Lara. She is possibly angered by this.

  At her direction, I trained for this coming war with my Guardian and together we became stronger. He was magical and all knew it. He snorted fire and could travel the planes. It was widely known what he was and from who he came. Other Warriors followed our lead and our army became feared by all, even those from other lands heard our names and avoided our shores because of this. Many thought I would be king. By human standards I was still a child, but history is full of child kings and soon the Queen began to take notice. I should have seen her planning as she made alliances and brokered deals, but I did not. For all my strength and power, I was still an innocent, my edges soft and temper fair. Then I met Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth was a beauty, not an uncommon one, but beautiful all the same. She was slender as a reed and had a quiet, gentle way about her. She did not know what I was in the beginning. She was human and lived in a small village on the other side of Eire. My army was there on the coastline, defending from invading yellow haired vikings and she served ale at the local Inn. We stayed for many weeks, shoring defenses and training the locals to defend themselves in our absence. We went often to the Inn and my eye was drawn to her always. She spoke to me kindly and her touch lingered upon my arm or back as she passed by. I would stay until the pub closed to watch her, I was fascinated by her grace. Over the weeks, we built a relationship and I looked forward to her company. We would walk together and on a rare occasion ride across the countryside under the warm sun.

  She was no virgin when she took me the first time, but I am not one who cares for such things. She took my body into hers and showed me how it was to be made love to by a human woman. I liked it very much. There was a delicateness to it that does not exist when two Fae join. The Fae make love like cats, there is screeching, biting, clawing and pain before there is release. At least that is my perception, but perceptions are shaped by experience so that may not be true.

  She took me upstairs to her room after the pub closed for the night and removed my clothes piece by piece before she dropped her simple shift around her feet, stepping out of it. She did not say a word as she lay me on her bed and took me in the way a woman does when they know what it is they want. She trailed her hands over my body, tracing every plane and curve before guiding me into her and not caring that I hurt her with my size. I was so taken by this that I lay like a virgin and did naught but experience it. She was amazing. She made love with abandon, there was no jockeying or implied power plays, as there often is among the Fae. After that first time, I told her what I was and she said that she did not care. Then I made love to her in every way I knew and had ever practiced. She did not seem to mind that either. We became inseparable.

  I took her back with me when we left the coast. I built us a little cottage and together we lived. I continued to play a part in Fae Court, but I cared only for my time with Elizabeth. We lived a good life. My child grew in her womb for six months before the Queen found her. We had been joined by Handfasting by then and word had spread.
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br />   I led the most powerful army of Fae, I was chosen by the Goddess and taught to perform the highest magics and my power grew daily, but I had bound myself to a human woman and none of those other things mattered to the Queen who had given her word to a favorite cousin that I would be hers to toy with. She called me to her council to discuss the matter. Me being young, did not recognize the ambush when it came. She had me bound by cold iron, hands and feet, arms and legs, before I could mount a defense. It was not honorable what she did. She did not allow me to challenge her or defend myself. She stole my strength and began her punishment while I was powerless. She threw Elizabeth’s broken body at my feet. My child still and unmoving in her womb, which I guess, is a small mercy. They could have taken him alive and that would have been worse. All this fuss for a human, they said. Had I only known my place this could have all been avoided, that was their claim. I did not believe it. Their desire to cull me did not start with Elizabeth, it started when I was a babe and my powers grew. It strengthened when My Guardian and I led too many successful battles and it solidified when the Goddess of our People trained me to protect her land. Elizabeth was an excuse to carry out plans long in motion. I know this now.

  For the first few days, I was raped by any and all who cared to. Male or female, it did not matter. They kept my chains wrapped tightly around me and I could not fight back. I would be taken from behind or forced to orally gratify any who wanted. I was horribly used. They hung my sword above my head where I could not reach it. They mocked me with it and used it against me. My sword is a thing of great power and they found it amusing to bleed me with it. The court watched the beginnings of my torture with glee, for it was a case of the mighty laid low and they did so enjoy that. I was plied with magic and drugs to make me erect and my body was forced to betray my mind. The Queen took me first, using whatever tool she had for her pleasure. She poured her sick magic into me and rode me painfully until she orgasmed and then she would do it again and again, until I would vomit or lose consciousness. She directed others to do the same and there was no rest for weeks, they placed objects in me, ripping me into pieces, before allowing me to heal, so that they could do it again. She laughed when I cried as I climaxed. She cared not. She said lust and desire had brought me to this point and she would use it to further my descent. There was not a Fae or Lesser Fae that was denied a turn with me for their pleasure, creatures of all shapes and size destroyed my body one or twelve at a time, it mattered not. I bled into them as they forced my body beyond its limits and they cared not. How long this lasted I cannot say. I was never allowed to sleep, the chain of abusers was endless and the months dragged into one another.

  When my body was no longer useful for sex, they began the second part of my punishment. The goal here was to see how much pain a High Blood Daoine Sidhe can take before they become unconscious. I thought this game had been played out already, but I was horribly wrong. Any who wanted was allowed to take a slice of my flesh and ingest it, or take a piece for whatever reason they wished. They were not allowed to kill me, but that was the only rule. I was cut to shreds, allowed to heal somewhat, then cut to shreds again. Often I hung in my chains with nothing more than bones to keep me together. The smell of my blood undoubtedly still permeates the Great Fae Hall. They bathed in it. Quite literally. Trying to take in my magic by any means they could, for they knew I was Goddess Blessed. Where she was during this time, I do not know, for I did pray to her for mercy. I begged her to release me from this situation and she did not. The Christian book of laws states that God’s judgments are unsearchable and his ways past finding out. I understand that there are often long games being played, but I begged for my death and her mercy, but received neither. I stopped praying to her after so many went unanswered. There is a point where one mad creature of any type becomes so crazed as to infect others around it, even the most sane and stable. So many allies and friends joined in the Queen’s madness because she was a contagion. It spread through the land, calling others to come join her in her quest for my power. There was no method of inflicting pain that they did not try, for with many minds at work they missed nothing.

  When this tack failed, the beatings began. I was nearly at the end of it now. I was beaten for days on end, whips with iron barbs tore out my flesh. I was no longer allowed to heal and my dreams of being set free by a former compatriot or friend faded. My prayers to the Goddess had brought me no savior. I awaited death and no longer feared it. Death would be a small comfort after all that had failed to kill me. I was beaten to such an extreme that the scars survived my transition to vampirism and cover my flesh to this day. This is unheard of and a testament to the depths and expertise of their torture. I wear my scars with pride for I survived them. I doubt another would have.

  When Aramea, who had taken part in all levels of my punishment and enjoyed very much the rape and torture of my body, for many times she came to me and took me against my will, forced my head back and placed the bottle to my lips, I drank willingly. I do not keep the fact that Aramea has had my body in hers from Lara to protect Aramea, or even Lara, I do it because this is a humiliation that I cannot bear myself. Even to this day. I keep the secret to protect me and no one else. I deserve this one small shred of privacy after all that I suffered at her hands. I can still see the pleasure on her face as she took from me what was mine to give and I know that Lara would think that she wants to know the truth, but no one truly wants to know these things. Even I do not. I have learned to live beyond this time of my life, but it was a near thing. I thought I would die when I drank that potion. Hoped I would die. Never did I dream of the thing that I would become. I would gladly kill Aramea today, but for her granddaughter. She deserves to see where this goes and to make her own choices about her.

  After the blind years, caused by my punishment, of which my memory is dim, I heard that the Milesians had invaded and forced the entirety of Talamh na Sithe underground and that much of the power of the People was lost. I attempted to speed the process of its decay by destroying as many of the remaining Fae as I could. I do not hate the Goddess, I feel abandoned by her, but perhaps she feels abandoned too, for her People are gone. I do not know. I never saw her again to have the chance to ask her.

  Chapter Three

  I was a creature most foul. I know this. No one who has ever heard of me will deny it. There is nothing good to say about what I was then. After Cerridwen’s Tears were poured down my throat, power flowed through me, the cold iron no longer bound me and I broke free of my chains and took up my sword that was still coated in my own blood. I destroyed all who did not run from that chamber. I was mindless, I remember it as if in a haze, which often follows a night filled with too much alcohol or other mind altering substance. It is in fragments and pieces. I have snatches of memory, but not entire threads. Before I could kill them all, a magic I still do not understand, forced me from Talamh na Sithe and I had not been able to enter again until Lara Healed me the night after the Winter Conclave. Since then the doorways have opened to me. That healing of the fracture between vampire and faerie is also what allowed my kidnappers to restrain me, had that fissure not been sealed, cold iron would not have detained me for longer than it would have taken to break the chains by force. I wonder if this was an excellent guess on the part of my betrayers, dumb luck, or inside information. I fear I have been blind to the plots of those closest to me and overconfident in my authority and power.

  In the land of the humans, I murdered, defiled, Turned, tortured and and destroyed any and all with Fae blood that I could find. I destroyed the entire family line of every creature involved in my punishment, even those who only watched. If anyone defended me during my punishment, I do not know. I did not care. I killed them all. They scattered and ran like the sheep they were. Many liked to travel among humans and I would wait. Eternity is a long time and I was patient, waiting for them to cross the boundary into the land of humans, where I would hunt them freely. The smell of their blood led me to them, for as t
hey tortured me, they bled too and the smell of the family line passes from one to the next. Though I lost most of the power I had been born with, I did not lose it all and what I lost, I gained back in the power of the undead. I was Turned into the strongest vampire that has ever been raised. Instantly. I am sure that the Queen had no idea what she would create when she made her plans and Aramea forced that bottle to my lips. If she had, I doubt she would have done it, for I emerged into the supernatural world as something that had no equal, no check and no sanity. I met others of my kind and cut my way through them as well. They avoided me or they died. I hated myself and the world I had been forced into. I became a legend and a fairy tale nightmare. There are tomes written about this creature. I had a name then, that few know now, they called me Duine go Milleann or Milleann for short. I was the Destroyer. And I was. Only the oldest Supernaturals know this and it is the reason I have so few serious challengers now. Only the young and foolish dare.

  I have done all I can to make it right, even though I know that is not possible. I have lived many lifetimes since those dark times and have done many good deeds. I have rebuilt more than I have torn down and saved more than I have taken, but it will never be enough. I understand this and have come to terms with it. There is no excuse for what I did. I have not asked forgiveness of the Goddess for there can be none. I accept that. I have scoured religious texts looking for absolution and found that it is not to be. For I knew what I did and I did it with premeditation. I sinned against my brother many more times than twenty-seven and I was an adult when the Christian Savior was born. So there is no hope for forgiveness and that is acceptable to me. There is however hope for redemption and that is something I have sought century after century because to me redemption is a greater accomplishment than forgiveness. Redemption carries on into deeds of the future while forgiveness lays in deeds of the past. As the dormant seed of love grows and blooms, there lies the true path to redemption. That path led me to Grania and that was the beginning of yet another change in my life.