Defiant Revival

by Defiant Revival [Dreamspinner MM] (retail) (epub)

  “The fock I am not!”

  “Well, then you should see the six-and-a-half-foot reason walking over to us as we speak.”

  “Oh, that old noise? Is that really why you’ve been all clammed up? Was’nae you sayin’ ‘Shemmy I love ya’ and ‘Shemmy is so smart an’ pretty’? What of all that shite, you pathetic arse? You know nothing of love. You know only of lyin’ like a brat to get your way.” She spat in his face while jumping off her horse.

  Their faces were inches apart as they hissed their venom at each other. My brother was perfectly vulnerable and jilted. Shemmy was adequately invested in him and stubborn. From this, their egos created something of a perfect storm as they thrashed against each other. Neither had hated the other nor was even directly angry, but as they spoke a violent rage warred between them.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Billiam called over to them. Micah dismounted and walked over as well, holding his hand.

  “Oi, here’s the man of the hour. Go ahead, Zan. Tell him how hurt the poor faelock is. So enamored, although you cannae even admit you like cock. Sure that’s true fockin’ love!”

  “Not everyone is as comfortable being a disgusting sexual deviant as you are!”

  “Ezzackly my point, Zan! How can you love him if ya find the way you feel about him revoltin’? Give it up, ya self-loathin’ piece o’ shite! You ain’t in love. You deserve not a shred of that man’s attention. Yer obsessed, dangerously and deviantly obsessed. I dun care what kinda creature you be; love is never sumfin’ as ugly as what you have!” She was screaming and belligerent, shaking her arms wildly, and yet she wasn’t trying to hurt him.

  Zan was biding his energy, desperately trying to not grab his sword. He looked at Billiam instead of Shemmy, something he probably shouldn’t have done. “But… I do love you!” he screamed, forcing himself to fall to his knees so he wouldn’t run over to him.

  Billiam was shocked and terribly confused. There had been no warning of this dispute brewing. There was tension, yes, but no more than usual. He grabbed the prince, holding him closely in front of him. He felt as long as Micah was between them, my brother would do nothing drastic.

  “Zan, what has happened? Why are you distraught so suddenly? And Shemmy, why are you in such a fit with him about it?” He spoke earnestly. He was both heartfelt and concerned.

  “Please…. Do not speak kindly to me, Billiam. I cannot bear it.” Zan was pathetic, crying with his face in the snow.

  “Whatever you two are arguing about, any pitiful feelings you think you have for my lover, it does not matter. Zan, just continue walking paces ahead of us. We shan’t speak to you, as you are in no state. We must continue, understood?” Micah was commanding, his voice sounding quite masculine despite the lovely pink gown it emerged from. He was ready to resume traveling immediately.

  “I dun wanna fockin’ see him, make him walk behind us. We can tie his neck to one of the horses,” Shemmy grunted out.

  “I don’t care what either of you want. I care only that we make it to City of Alafor swiftly. Reclaiming Casperland is what matters, not your feelings, not even my own. Stop acting like children and stifle your emotions at once. Zan, can you continue, or must I kill you now?”

  “No, I can’t.” My brother was still forcing his head in the slush, clenching his fists.

  “You owe me a finger for that. Now get the hell off the ground!”

  “Get me off it, you stupid shit!” Zan rose to his knees, frantically screaming at Micah.

  As soon as Billiam heard an insult slung at his prince, he ran to smash his fists against my brother. This is what he wanted, to have Billiam touch him, to be near him. He wanted to make him feel better, give him pleasure, even if it was by letting himself get beaten to a pulp.

  He reached up his intact hand, letting his index finger collide with the plummeting fist. The pitiful appendage snapped back, flying toward his face. Billiam was able to reach his jaw, even with the interruption. His brain jostled in his head, like it was vibrating within his skull, but the real feeling was in his heart. It was bursting; he felt so joyous to make Billiam happy.

  Zan was brimming with pride as he lifted up his hand to show everyone. The finger was flung against the back of his hand, gruesome and contorted, but still clinging on. “Billiam, will you take it?”

  Micah was disgusted. Zan had taken his own game and used it to get close to Billiam, albeit in the most masochistic way imaginable.

  “No! My rules, my fingers!” Micah screamed while running the few yards over to them and landing against my brother with all his force. Zan barely moved but was effectively stunned.

  “Micah, please, you shouldn’t act violently. Let me do this unsavory business,” Billiam implored him.

  “Billiam, you truly don’t get it? He wants you to touch him, to get pleasure from hurting him. He is using me to use you, so please, stop letting him look at you. I appreciate your concern, but I will do this.” Micah looked at him sweetly, making a pushing motion to bid him to leave. He then ripped off Zan’s broken finger easily, chucking it into the woods.

  My brother groaned but stayed transfixed on Billiam. Do you love when I am punished? You treat me so kindly, Billiam…. Those were some of the sick thoughts in my brother’s deranged head. He was always obsessive and pathological, but he was obviously getting much worse. Everything about this journey was driving him to the edge; certainly he would soon fall off it and likely be laughing.

  “That was for the lie. You also made Billiam touch you, which went against my second rule. How boring would it be for both rules of the game to have the same prize? I have always loved the color violet!” Micah squealed gleefully as he plunged two fingers into Zan’s eye socket, ripping out his lavender-iris clad eyeball. The thing slipped in his fingers, making a deceptively silly sound as blood spurted from my brother’s skull.

  Zan was cackling and Micah laughed with him. Billiam was, of course, vomiting. Shemmy watched the prince’s face closely, but his eyes never turned black. She ran over to him anyway, dragging him to their horses. He thrashed in her arms, getting blood on both of them and throwing the eye down during their struggle. She didn’t care about that; she knew they needed to get going, to be away from there. They were quite literally tearing each other apart in the woods for no reason.

  “Does this make you happy, Billiam? Does my pain please you? I hope it does, your pain pleased me before. I’d like for us to be even.” Zan was still laughing; he had lost it. He no longer wanted to die. He felt happy, and this was how he could show his love. He surprised them all by jumping to his feet as if he felt just fine.

  “Zan, shut your filthy mouth!” Micah screamed at him, thrashing about as Shemmy held his arms. He had been overcome, but his eyes stayed blue. Was violence not the trigger? She was wracking her brain, amidst kicking herself for making things worse.

  As Zan walked over to the horses, he passed by Billiam with a kind smile, his one eye sparkling. It confused him, as he never truly hated Zan, regardless of what they had been through. We had all grown up together, and despite my brother’s constant façade, he knew him well. Before the last year, they had been the best of friends. They could never be more than that, but Billiam never expected they would become this. He thought Zan’s feelings would fade with the prince brought back; instead they just became desperately distorted.

  “I don’t think we should stay in an inn as we had planned. I am not something the public should see in this state.” Zan was grinning and speaking calmly as he lifted a lit match to his finger stub. It went out. He lit another, and must’ve held it to his eye socket, though no one dared to look.

  “Fine. You two can watch us, then. I don’t care anymore,” Micah said with an ugly scoff. His hands were finally free, and he grabbed the rope reins off of his horse. Uncurled, it was actually quite a long cord. “Bring me your wrists, Zan.”

  My brother obeyed and walked over to the prince cheerfully with his arms held out. He saw Micah wa
s none too pleased and spun himself, connecting his wounded hands behind his back. He tied them up quickly with an impressive knot and had enough length to attach it to his horse’s bridle.

  “Stay behind us, faelock. I have come to agree with Shemmy. Now Billiam, get over here already,” Micah commanded, sweet but stern.

  Billiam woke from his shock at last and ran over to them, keeping his gaze away from Zan. He grabbed Micah, whispering, “Are you okay, Prince?”

  “I will be tomorrow. I need him to at least confess his sins to his fiancée, and then I might cut this short. It is not safe for us to be around him, especially you.”

  He kissed the prince for reassurance and picked him up, setting him atop his horse. Despite the effort, Billiam felt entirely unsoothed. In all their years together, he had never seen Micah behave violently. The young prince even contested the murder of spiders within the palace, requiring the servants to relocate them instead. Knowing of the defective stitch, seeing the torture he endured at the hand of the cardinal, empathizing with his desire for revenge, all of this had made it possible for Billiam to rationalize Micah’s behavior thus far. The escalating brutality and pathetic state of his victim were making it painful to do so. He would mention nothing of these feelings, however. He swore undying loyalty to his king, and madness wouldn’t budge that, not yet at least.

  “I can take care of myself, Micah. Do not worry,” he whispered up.

  “Of course, Billiam, but I’d like to care for you too. I can notice things you do not, and you do the same for me. We are partners, and everything we do, we do together. I’ll love you forever, as always.”

  Billiam repeated the phrase, albeit with a heavier heart than usual. They still walked hand in hand the rest of the day’s trek.

  Shemmy not only refrained from speaking the entire walk, she hadn’t even giggled or taken a single wee break. Body slamming, finger ripping, eye gouging, those were all extremely violent acts, and yet he was the prince the whole time. What had triggered the defect before? It didn’t seem to be violence, and it couldn’t have simply been arousal, or else he would be a black-eyed cannibal half the time he was even near Billiam.

  The camp they picked was on a whim, like the ones they had chosen prior to the attempted abduction. No one wanted to speak to Zan to hear his opinion on where to retire. He didn’t care; he was blissfully content.

  The first thing Micah did was tie my brother to a tree, yards away from where they set camp but within eyesight. He cared little whether he attempted to flee or not. After, he sat with Billiam at the fire he had struck up for them.

  Shemmy ruined their silent, cozy snuggling by suddenly commanding, “Micah, I need to examine you.” She was already lifting him up by the arm.

  “Ack! Fine, but do anything pervy and I might have a child’s tantrum.”

  “Should I supervise?” queried Billiam.

  “No, Dandy. I ain’t doin’ nuffin strange. I just wanna make sure the enchantment is holdin’ up fine.”

  Micah gave him a reassuring wave before disappearing behind a cluster of barren, frosty trees. “What’s this all of a sudden?”

  “Oi, first, uh…. Micah, I’d apologize ’bout what I said but….”

  “There’s no point if you aren’t sorry,” he said dismissively but didn’t look particularly offended. He appreciated her honesty; she was shamelessly true to herself, even at the expense of her own king.

  “Right, good, you understand.” She was grinning as Micah scoffed. Appreciative of it or not, he wasn’t really liking it at the moment. “’Kay, let’s get started. Can I have you in your skivvies, den?”

  “My whats? Are you really examining me? I thought you just wanted to talk about Zan or something.”

  “Your underfings, love. And a hearty hell no to that! He deserves neither of our attention no more.” She was helping Micah to remove his pretty clothes, gingerly placing them on a clean-looking rock nearby. She did not want to see Billiam’s reaction should they be ripped or sullied.

  “Do you even know how to check the enchantment? I thought this was all experimental?” He grimaced as she traced along his body with her needles.

  “I know, but I ’ave to try and see if I can help ya, so I’m winging it. I can check the strength of other revived materials, so why not wif you? Imma make sure that physically yer all recovered, as dat’s important; however, what I really wanna check is the repair of your soul. I dun fink I can fix anyfing, but it might help me narrow down the trigger.”

  “So we’ve decided it’s not violence?” He couldn’t help gasping as he saw the needles fly into his chest and sit there, even though he felt nothing but warmth, just like before. Shemmy stared forward hard. He felt as if he were with a physician and she was burning her eyes through his record of health.

  “No, cannae be. I suppose that’s all you. Yer prolly borrowin’ strength from the defect, but other than that, I am quite sure the rage and intent are yers.”

  Micah’s face fell. He was dearly hoping it wasn’t all him. Learning of the defect made him feel far less monstrous for his treatment of Zan. He did not regret it; he simply worried for the safety of the soul she was probing. “Thank you for taking care of me, Shemmy. Anything?”

  Shemmy didn’t look angry at all anymore, not at my brother or anything else. She was concerned and loving once again. “I cannae tell anyfing. T’all seems fine, in the practical sense. I really wanted to ’elp.” She pushed her needles in her dress before turning to get Micah’s clothes. “I just wan’ ya to be yer perfect little self. I’m sorry, Micah.”

  “Shemmy, you are so kind. I do appreciate it!” Micah reached out to hug her and placed his hand on her waist. “I have to stop it.”

  That voice was not Micah’s. It was deep, it was cold, and it was inhuman. Shemmy thought she had learned nothing from this examination, yet to her surprise, a pair of completely black eyes stared at her. “Who are you, then?”

  “There is evil in you. I need to get it out. I must remove the rot. You will understand.” The voice was calm, and Micah’s face was not moving, yet his hands viciously grabbed at her midsection. The air grew incredibly thick, choking in her throat, as Micah moved faster than she could think.

  “Fockin’ hell!” She screamed as Micah’s fingernails broke her flesh. She grabbed out her needles and parted the snow-covered dirt from below the prince’s feet by dashing them across each other in a downward motion. The earth hollowed, piling itself all around him. He thrashed and almost managed to get out, yet Shemmy forced the evicted soil back atop him.

  Billiam heard the sounds of struggle and ran over. By the time he arrived, Micah was buried three feet in dirt. His eyes were normal again, and he was terribly frightened. Shemmy dropped to the ground, panting and holding Micah’s dress, which had become filthy.

  “Why are you buried?” he screamed, while fervently digging up his lover. “What in the world is going on, Shemmy?”

  “What did I do? I don’t remember! I was about to give her a hug, then I was in the ground!” The crying fit had started up, just like before. Billiam had him pulled up quickly and was brushing off the dirt with his hands.

  “You were talkin’ ta me. Well I guess it was’nae you, but yeah, the black eyes and such ’appened. It started when ya touched my waist. Yer voice was all diff’rent, scary-like.” She was extremely shaken and quite unwilling to get up off the ground.

  “What did I say?” Micah implored amongst the tears. He remembered the soft touch of Shemmy’s flesh as he hugged her, and holding his hands together, he felt it again. He looked in horror at his short dirty nails, seeing the tiny bits of skin he had ripped from her. From that soft feeling until this moment, the only thing he could recall was the overwhelming smell of moist earth. As his crying fit carried on, he was able to think despite it. He remembered how terribly hungry he was before they came over for his exam; he now felt entirely sated.

  “It did’nae make no sense.” She shook her head as she allowed Bi
lliam to help her up, handing him the dress, ashamed at its condition. “You said you was gonna stop it, evil an’ rot wos in me an’ you’d get ’em out. Then you started scratchin’ me up.”

  “What? Why?”

  “How the hell should I know?” She watched as Billiam worked quickly, simultaneously dressing the prince and wiping up all tears with his sleeve. “The rot out… what is rotten….” She was thinking hard, for that word was resonating with her. Surely she had used it plenty as a euphemism for shit or a term for garbage, but there had to be a deeper meaning.

  “So none of it means a thing to you?” Billiam asked, sitting on the stone that had housed Micah’s clothes. He held the dressed prince against his lap and stroked his cheek. It looked as if every speck of dirt had been miraculously erased.

  “I feel like the term rot, as in someone having it, is something I recall from my childhood. I cannae remember why, though.”

  “Well, what could be in you that Micah would want to get out?”

  “Hey!” objected the prince. “I don’t want anything out of her. It wasn’t me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Micah. It’s a bit of a strange thing to know how to speak about. You haven’t anything embedded in you for enchanting, right? Or something from birth due to being the family heir?”

  “Nuffin’ embedded in me. Where ya get such an idea?” she asked with a laugh.

  Billiam grinned at her and ran his finger over his eyebrows.

  “Oh, I suppose I’m a bit modified den, ain’t I? Never knew you had such wild imaginings ’bout me, Dandy! As far as the DuBois thing, the heir is chosen if you are born wif the sister’s shroud, which I was, obviously. But it was an apparition on the face, not inside me, and it was cleaned off afta birth. I do have this stupid doll called Chammerline’s soul, supposed to house the first one’s in it. I have cut it up before, though. Ain’t nuffin but straw and mites inside. Zan’s holdin’ it anyways, so Bad Micah could’nae have gotten it.”