Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor)

by Lenore, Lani

  “Very well,” Rifter said with resolve in his eye. “Leave the imposter to me.”

  2

  The white-haired demon in human skin flew in through the open window of the Bloody Mary’s cabin. Being a mere imposter, he’d not been able to summon up an important element – the dark ship Desdemona, which had disappeared into the volcano years ago – but he had explained his way around that obstacle. He had done such a good job with the aid of Rifter’s forgotten memories that no one had seemed to notice his ruse. But many were so bloodthirsty that they were willing to follow him even if the pieces did not all fit.

  The war was coming, and there was not a tongue that didn’t salivate for it.

  The demon needed to be swift now. It had left its former costume and now needed to assemble a new one, for it was time to bring this war about. Once the Scourge appeared before his followers to announce that Rifter was alive and assembling his own, his plans would come to fruition, and even the slight discrepancies as to how it played out would not amount to much. While the demon enjoyed the constant conflict, it needed one thing greater: comfort. Even before this war began, the demon knew how it would end. A wicked smile formed at the thought.

  A golden light rushed into the room behind the tanned boy who was riffling through the captain’s drawers. The wisp was going on about something – something about not waiting for her before he’d left the ocean cave, he expected, or about why he had let Wren escape. He was in no mood to listen. She had not been present for the confrontation, and he was glad of that. His secret was safe for now. Whisper was one element that he could not afford to lose just yet.

  The false Rifter simply continued to dig through the drawers, tossing out clothing. He did not even turn to the wisp.

  “I don’t have time for your complaints,” he said dismissively. “I need you to help me get dressed. Find some bandages.”

  While he hadn’t expected to fool this fairy companion of Rifter’s, he’d found that she was more susceptible to the darkness than he’d imagined. She had been separated from Rifter, desperate for his approval and she had been drawn to him naturally. She had gone along with every one of his plans and still he had her under his thumb.

  When the demon had spoken to her through the darkness so long ago, suggesting that she should go into the other world and find Wren, the fairy had listened, but she had misinterpreted the message. She’d thought he’d meant for her to kill the girl, but the demon had always had something else in mind for her.

  Something that will be nothing less than utter genius.

  The two worked on, disarranging the entire chamber in their rush, but in this hurry, both failed to see the third figure that looked in on them. As the demon dressed its borrowed body, Whisper began to rapidly wind clean bandages around his head – until a short clicking sound caused them to stop.

  Glowing eyes rose toward the sound, loose bandages hanging over his face. He found himself looking at a much shorter, stouter man with tattoos running down his large arms – images of skulls and buxom mermaids. The man was getting old, but he could see well enough to know that the one who stood before him was not the Scourge. In his shaky hands, he held a cocked pistol.

  “I seen you. Ye’r the Rifter! So this is your plan, is it?” the old pirate grumbled. “To masquerade as the captain and twist e’rything round? Well it ain’t gonna to be so simple!”

  The demon didn’t remember his name, and he doubted the infamous Scourge would have either – judging by what he had seen in the memories behind the door, which he’d used to learn everything he could about the man.

  “What is it, you old fool?” the demon asked in the deep voice of the Scourge.

  “I am not fooled by you, boy!” the man cried.

  The weathered pirate had not stopped to consider the truth behind what he had stumbled upon.

  The one he had confused for Rifter – as so many others had done – seemed more amused than angry now. He gave up his search and turned fully toward the gun barrel, a light chuckle on his lips. Whisper hovered on the far side of the room, giving him space.

  “Listen to me, old fool,” the demon threatened. He could see the shadow of fear pass over the pirate’s face as a wide smile passed across his own. “You have no idea what you are dealing with. Can you imagine something worse than the Scourge? Well, I’m it. But I will be reasonable. You have one last chance to be rational and put down that gun – before I rip out your throat.”

  The shorter man, very loyal to his captain, seemed to not know what to do. He was seeing the Rifter before him, yet he was unsure about holding the gun. The demon could read his thoughts. What would the man choose? The demon was anxious to find out.

  The sound of the shot resounded, carrying across the sea outside the open window. The round bullet collided squarely with the white-haired boy’s forehead, leaving a hole that passed through to the other side, but as before, there was no blood. This body had died long ago, and not even a head wound could stop him. The boy continued to stand there, and he continued to smile.

  “Mistake,” he emphasized.

  The demon was upon him before the pirate could turn to run, gripping his tuff of hair and twisting up his throat. The fanged teeth sank deep into that old neck, splitting the flesh and crushing the windpipe before the other had a chance to scream. Then, like a rabid animal, the demon ripped the man’s throat to shreds, just as he’d promised. Thick red liquid poured over his mouth and splashed down onto the floor. He let the dying body fall, choking on the boards below.

  The demon dabbed a finger at the small hole in its forehead, sighing disgustedly. There was no physical pleasure in being shot, only a brief satisfaction that it could not be stopped in this manner, but soon that had gone away and the demon was left with a dry wound. Soon, however, it would not matter how many blows he took.

  The false Rifter did not bother to wipe his mouth as he turned to Whisper. She was for once without words as she stared at him. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his face taken by a bloody grin.

  “Let’s get on with it,” he told her. “I have an address to make.”

  Whether it was good enough for her, one would never know, but she went about her business of helping him dress as the Scourge, covering all the discrepancies in his appearance so that no one would know. He was quite late by now but within minutes, he was assembled hastily in bandages, coat, wig and hat to hide the obviousness of the costume. Finally, he was prepared to move out amidst his followers and speak of his plans.

  The Scourge stepped out of the cabin, a river of dark blood flowing closely behind his boots.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  1

  Though there had been a battle amidst the ruined structures of the former Tribal settlement, and the bodies of pirates were littering the ground with their blood feeding the soil, there was still suitable room to make fire. There had been far too much attention lavished on this place today, but all that had passed. Now it was quiet. Away from all the death, the Wolf Pack made their camp.

  They had been here before. Years ago, it was the last place they had slept before the end.

  There was a stream down the hill that had allowed them all to clean themselves of blood and dirt – of the events of the day. It was only mild refreshment, but it was still much appreciated by all. Treading back and searching through fallen, half burnt tents produced a few skins and woven blankets that they were all grateful for. Scattered about the camp, they had arranged places for themselves to sleep comfortably within the renewed shelters of makeshift tents, but for now, they all gathered around the fire.

  The seven renegades of the corruption huddled together, eating strips of dried meat, and having very little else to say that had not been previously addressed. This was not a time for accusations or quarrels, or even for stories of tactics and survival. This time was for silent reflection and rest.

  Finn was patching small nicks in his suit of Tikilin, and he’d offered to do so for the others as
well. The precious mineral made everything stronger, but the suits that held it were difficult to work with.

  Mach had been polishing his gun for a long time in a distracted fashion. Being a young man with such an untamed tongue, one may have thought that nothing would disturb him enough to take silence as refuge, but he kept his thoughts to himself, and he did not even look into the faces of his companions.

  Beside him, Toss was very different. His small black eyes kept peering around at the faces of those around him, though very few of them lifted their eyes to look back at him. He hated the silence, and wished one of them would break into this space that he thought was so awkward, but he dared not do so himself. Though he normally could hold a great deal of food, he hardly ate, peeling the meat into tiny portions.

  Sly had his face directed toward the fire, though where his attention truly was, no one knew. Calico sat beside him, looking at him regularly as if he would speak, but he sat still and quiet as if he was not aware of her presence at all. Even so, she looked as if she wished to say something to him, but couldn’t bring herself to.

  Rifter was going through the many weapons that he had with him, cleaning and sharpening them all one by one. By the look of things, it was going to be a very long job indeed. It was strange how, when one of them did glance his way, he was certainly not Nix in their minds any longer. He was Rifter, as if he had never ceased to be called by that name. He’d been Rifter all along, steering them and guiding them as always, even without meaning to. Now, he hardly regarded his followers as he sat, not needing their attention or their constant admiration as he once had. He’d grown now. He’d learned a few things, and he’d become better for it.

  Wren was sitting beside him, staring at the flames. She shifted just a bit, and he sent his seeing eye to her. Her arms wrapped around her knees, and when she saw his gaze, she looked at him. There were heaping mounds of thought behind her eyes – he could tell that – but what exactly she thought about, he did not know. She, however, did not break her gaze away from him, and eventually he understood.

  “Perhaps it’s time we all tried to sleep,” he proposed, gathering his belongings.

  The rest of them raised their heads when he broke their long-standing silence, but perhaps some of them had been thinking the same thing.

  “Yes,” Sly said quietly, coming out of a trance. “I have a feeling that none of us will get much rest tomorrow.”

  None of them asked him to elaborate. Sly rose from the fireside first, moving away without saying another word to any of them. Calico watched him go, looking a bit concerned, but she did not follow immediately. Finn continued with his work, but Mach gave up on his, hardly regarding them as he rose. He blew out a sigh and headed off to the place he’d made for himself to sleep, out of sight of the fire, like all the others. They’d thought it was best to scatter out over the plateau, not only for peace and solitude for the night, but in case danger did return here they would not be grouped all together as easy targets.

  After several moments, Calico could no longer sit still, rising up to go in the direction Sly had gone. Once Rifter had gathered his things, he and a weary-looking Wren also left the circle.

  Toss looked over at Finn, wanting some sort of consoling discussion over coming events, but Finn could not offer his brother that. He did not know what was going to happen any more than the rest of them.

  “We will see what tomorrow brings,” he said simply as the fire’s light flickered across his face, making the line of his frown even grimmer.

  2

  Sly wandered away through the village ruins, easily avoiding all obstacles despite the darkness and his absent eyes. Now was not time for sleep, but for meditation. There were many things to think of – to look into – and he needed to do it in the quiet, still night with only the earth around him. It would help him to see. The wind would whisper secrets to him, and tomorrow, he would know what to do.

  He’d been aware of the footsteps before they were directly behind him, and the touch of a hand resting gently on his shoulder urged him to stop in his trek. He didn’t turn back, but someone had stepped around to face him, overtaking him with a soft kiss.

  He’d known she had followed him, but if he hadn’t, the feel of her lips was so familiar that he couldn’t have mistaken it. Calico’s hands cupped the ears that were high on the sides of his head, urging him deeper into her kiss. The sensation was so pleasant to the whole of his being that he gave in to it completely, unfailing to return every kiss back to her lips. When her mouth broke from his, he couldn’t say he’d wanted it to, but he knew kisses didn’t last forever. Nothing did.

  “You need to know that I love you,” Calico said quietly, pressing her forehead against his.

  “I do know that,” he assured her.

  His clawed hands slipped to her back, holding her close, and when she breathed, he could feel a shudder within her.

  “You’re afraid,” he said, as if it were some great revelation. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “You did not say: ‘You don’t have to be afraid’.”

  He smiled at the sound of her observation. She was right.

  “Many things could happen in the next while, and many other things can alter those things. It can be complicated, but everything will turn out as it should.”

  The girl was silent in considering this. He knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing she had been concerned about since she’d heard it.

  “If there’s a chance that she will hurt you, I will kill her.”

  Calico was talking about Wren. Sly wanted to assure her once again that she need not be bothered with that possibility, but his mind somehow managed to wander elsewhere. Why did she feel such a strong need to result straight to violence against Wren if it was a question of his life? He knew the answer, and it saddened him.

  “If I did not have these powers…” But then he stopped. How had those words gotten out of his mouth, slipping past a trained tongue?

  He could not see the look on her face, but he glimpsed it just the same. She was hurt and confused, looking toward his covered eyes.

  “What are you saying?”

  He shook his head, unwilling to go further with this. Perhaps he’d already gone too far, damaging her feelings and breaking her resolve to defend this love of theirs. He had to admit, she’d been loyal to him. She’d gone out of her way to please him – risking her life to retrieve Wren for him. He could see what she’d endured during that endeavor, but he did not want to look. She’d been captured by pirates, tortured, abused – more than abused. It hurt his heart to think of it. But that did not change the fact that she’d only gone through those things for the island and not for him.

  After several moments of her stillness, he felt her throw her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly, and he was grateful for her action of forgiveness.

  “It is important,” she said, “what you can do if you are allowed to. I have to make sure that happens. It’s true that I know the value of your powers, but I would never want death to come between us. Even so, I would rather die for you than be left without you.”

  She pulled back and examined the delicate shape of his face, and her fingers slid upward from his chest to his neck, continuing on across his cheeks until they had slid beneath the strip of cloth that covered his sightless eyes. He did not stop her from lifting it, and she was left staring at the scarred flesh where his eyes had once been.

  There were no longer holes there, only disfigured flesh. How only his eyes had been touched and the rest of his flesh had not, he did not know. He could only assume that it came from the secret gift that the sun had given him. There were black symbols burnt into the already dead flesh of his eyes. Calico’s people had put them there. When they’d found him, burned and broken on the ground, they’d used every magic they knew to restore him. They’d bound his soul back into his body by these markings, and what they had done with their earth magic – coupled with the sun’s power – had
turned Sly into what he was.

  His ears and tails had grown gradually. For a while, he’d had a difficult time of it all, with painful visions and sleepless nights, and it had been during some of those nights that Calico had fallen in love with him. She’d watched him secretly – he’d known it – and she’d seen him down by the lake past her people’s camp. He’d spent hours there at night, engulfed in darkness, practicing fighting alone, moving as gracefully as a limber feline. There had also been times when he’d simply sat on the ground, or would wade out into the water. That was when she’d first seen what he could do.

  He made the grass grow, the water pure, and the air cool. He knew, ultimately, that it was his power that had drawn her to him. They’d spent time together, talking of ways that they could rid this world of evil. They’d shared languages and taught each other many things. They had come to need each other’s company.

  The first time she’d urged him to touch her, he knew he would never desire anyone else.

  Even if she had cared about someone else first.

  With the burned flesh of his eyes exposed, she kissed him again, and in return, his arms enveloped her.

  There are thoughts to be had, Sly tried to remind himself, but it did little to fight against her insistent touch.

  The human side of him knew that it was no time to think of anything but the pending war, but the animal side of him could not think without having her first. He peeled away her clothes efficiently – carefully – pulling her warm body against his. She was blind in this moment as well, closing her eyes to concentrate fully on his perfect caresses.

  They made love on the barren ground, with the soil, wind, and sky coming to life around them. Calico stretched out her hands to dig into the hard earth, but her fists instead gripped lush tufts of grass.