by Shawn Mackey
The pain caused me to finally lose consciousness. Sometime later, Torgos’s voice roused me from the short slumber. I told him everything that had happened. The moment I mentioned going to the island, he slung me over his shoulder and commanded the others to meet him halfway with their fastest horse. Torgos dashed with incredible speed down the riverside in the direction of the island. As he ordered, one of the steeds caught up to us, and within moments we were at the lake’s shore.
Torgos demanded a ship to the island, briefly explaining the situation to the posted guard. He stopped one of the ships about to leave port. My belly had expanded and seemed about to burst. The fiery pain had become something sharper and increasingly pulsating.
The moment we reached the shore, Torgos called out for Vargrim. He arrived shortly, baffled and irritated by my presence. The situation was once again explained. Vargrim laughed heartily and told one of his fellow soldiers to forbid Lefnir from coming to this side of the island. He also begged Torgos to leave, promising to return me tomorrow. The king reluctantly agreed.
Vargrim ordered the soldiers to watch from a distance and to slaughter anything that crossed their boundary, whether it was ally or enemy. He hovered close and clasped my hand, then started to shower me with kisses and mumble all sorts of affectionate promises. As my belly grew to an enormous bubble, I let out a scream and squeezed his hand so tightly it caused him to wince.
My stomach burst open. Though I could not see the monster emerge from my open belly, I heard a thousand voices that did not speak in sync. The unbearable pain was merciful enough to grant me unconsciousness. I was awoken briefly from the force of being heaved into the air. I landed just past the line where the soldiers were forbidden to cross.
I drifted in and out of consciousness as a pair of hands probed my wound. I could scarcely hear a voice above the cheering soldiers and the ensuing battle. A medic screeched various orders, demanding a hot knife and wet rags. At some point, I felt the familiar sting of a stitching needle. When the pain subsided to a bearable point, I wearily listened to the chaos surrounding me.
Judging by the sound, Vagrim was subduing the monster. Lefnir jeered him from my side. He also remarked that the head had been meant as a trophy, which should have been hung from our wall, and not the component of some savage ritual. I did not have the strength to harangue him. Breathing was difficult. Words were unthinkable.
Vagrim killed the beast by severing its final head. The soldiers chanted his name for hours. Lefnir carried me to an area that was less noisy. He explained that he understood the monster’s language and asked if I wished to know it. I refused to reply and inquired about my wound instead. He described it as a poor stitching job, and that one of my entrails hung from the gaping wound like a beast’s tongue. I felt fresh pain as he fixed the stitches with his fingers, even rougher than the medic. When he finished, though, it did not hurt as badly.
Lefnir carried me back toward the shore. Before returning to the other soldiers, he mentioning something about coming back to Yod soon and then handed me to Vargrim. My brother proceeded to shout an endless string of praises, which may have flattered me in other circumstances. On the boat ride back home, he clenched my hand as he described the battle in minute detail.
I had given him the greatest gift imaginable. He swore to grant my every desire in return. I told him to stop slaughtering my creations. He buckled with laughter and explained that there would be no need, and that if the island were ever to stop spawning monstrosities, it would be mine to populate with whatever I saw fit.
This promise, along with Vagrim’s gratitude, was quickly forgotten. When he returned, Lefnir told him he was on even terms with the monster. Vargrim protested, pointing to its remains as proof that he was superior. Lefnir reminded him of his previous loss, and once again reminded him that they were even. Vargrim cursed me in his brooding, and the only positive thing to come from the whole affair was the whopping punch to Lefnir’s head that sent him hurdling to the other side of the island.
It took weeks for me to recover. I did not see Jariah during that period and only received apologies whenever I inquired his health. A month later, when I was once again able to walk, no longer hampered by pain, Torgos visited my home. He told me I was to reside in the woods, and that Jariah and the maids were to be executed for treason.
No amount of convincing could exonerate Jariah. Torgos explained that burning the head without his permission was a strict violation of the highest law, and that the punishment would be more severe than death. Jariah, as well as all of Delisius’s pupils and household, were hung in a massive cage over a fire. The flame was fueled by their libraries.
The grief was far more unbearable than the recent birth pains. The man who had looked after me from childhood was being wholly annihilated. The annals he studied and contributed to were reduced to ashes. There was talk of me being returned to the Kay, since Delisius was to be my husband, and even mentioning his name became forbidden.
The next rumor spread like wildfire. I was to be Vargrim’s bride. I tried to keep the thought out of my mind and focused on my Sap. The day finally came when Torgos ordered me to stand, and it was announced that Lefnir and I were to be wed upon his return. Vargrim’s ancestors and the Kay were once a single race, and our mingling would be seen as a dangerous regression to the Yod.
When I awoke in the woods to the smell of death, I knew Vargrim had returned. The only meal that night was a magnificent feast. Lefnir and Vargrim sat at the king’s sides, and I sat next to the former and Dezzy by the latter. My future husband remarked that her fragrance was more tantalizing than the entire feast combined.
Though I could not see Dezzy in her current glory, I remembered her beauty fondly. We had been close companions in our early youth. Delisius once remarked that my emerald eyes and her golden locks were a daily reminder that his profession was futile endeavor. There was no beauty in the cosmos, despite what the poets sang. Only misery lay beyond the surface.
Dezzy’s vanity would not allow her to venture into the woods. This caused our friendship to eventually wane, but not wither. I did not think of her often, though I know she always held onto a shred of devotion toward me. She was utterly fascinated by the Kay, to the point of worship, and made me swear to bring her to my homeland if I were ever to return.
We rekindled our old friendship after the feast. The woman spoke in reverent tones that bordered on childish. When we were alone, her talk became increasingly intimate. A week ago, she had considered suicide after finding out she was to wed Lefnir. She loved Vagrim deeply, as she always had, and became embittered at the thought of him marrying me. Judging by her constant expressions of gratitude, I think she assumed I had rearranged the wedding by some trickery.
We walked through the woods that night. The constant howls and other distant noises nearly brought her to tears. When I told her this land was much like the Kay’s, she became calm, then proudly proclaimed that from there on, she would be content to serve Vargrim. She was not suited to leave Yod unless he willed it.
My monstrous husband-to-be watched this all from a distance. I expected some mischief at every turn, whether animal dung tossed into Dezzy’s hair or outright violence. Before our marriage had begun, I had already grown tired of his unpredictable nature.
I escorted Dezzy back to her home. Vargrim smoked a pipe outside the door. He erupted into a fit of joyous laughter at the sight of us, then took hold of Dezzy’s hand and thanked me with an unnatural sense of grace. She thanked me, as well, and hoped we would see each other in the morning.
When I returned to the woods, I heard the clacking of Lefnir’s talons as he lurched toward me. I was seized by the arms and playfully pinned against a tree. He demanded that our child be conceived while the passion currently seized him, since he may be too inebriated after our wedding. I lay down and waited for his embrace. Soon after, I heard a loud crack, then his body collapse by my side. I jumped and called out his name. The woods were silent and e
mpty. I felt all over Lefnir’s body, dead still and unbreathing. His hands were wrapped around his head, chin past his shoulder. I rubbed his twisted neck, fondling the taut skin and broken bones.
His sudden death did not shock me as much as he probably intended. My task was clear, and though it made me ill, the thought of him leaving this life without a farewell greatly saddened me. Like the many-headed beast, I was to devour the poor little cretin. I started with the eyes, taking no pleasure in the futile retribution. They were quite juicy and tasty enough. I went on to the hands, the flesh scant but a bit tough around the knuckles. I used a rock to break the bones and separate the fingers. His long nails proved to be an adequate utensil. I skinned him into thin layers, then gorged myself on his belly. His wet innards ran down my chin and chest. I made sure to lick every last drop, leaving only the bones. I burned these over a fire, mixed the ashes with Sap, and swallowed it down. With my task complete, I leaned against a tree and rubbed my full belly. As I started to doze off, I felt another hand over it. To ensure I was not hallucinating or dreaming, I reached out and grabbed Lefnir’s wrist.
I finally understood my husband. Vargrim was somewhat wrong when he claimed Lefnir immortal. Even though it was said in jest, I had no doubt he killed the wretch several times already. The island spawn did not fear Lefnir because of his ferocity or strength. They may have only understood it on a primitive level, but they knew what I now knew: they were only a part of a greater life-form, which found fuller expression in Lefnir. My mother’s mistake over the remnants of Nemesis had just been repeated. She mixed Sap with the combined ashes of our ancestors, creating a concoction from the essence of life and the essence of death, thinking it would somehow resurrect her dead kin. Instead, it turned sentient and slithered away. Matralina snatched the monstrosity and managed to swallow it, at the cost of corrupting her body. This only delayed the inevitable spread of the corrupted Sap, which I believe later matured into Lefnir.
However, I was much younger and at the height of fertility. Rather than impregnate Matralina, the black slime was likely digested and spread through her Sap, which flourished life across Lakustria. This included the island. If my theory was correct, then Delisius was wrong. The island spawn started with a deposit of Sap into the cave. Whether it was done intentionally was irrelevant. A tiny droplet infused with the remains of Nemesis created a terror to come that would likely outlast us all.
But that tiny drop would take eons to amass such an outpouring of monstrosities. Something needed to speed up the process. I was left wondering what lay in the heart of that cave.
I had plenty of time to ponder the nature of my husband and the island’s spawn while I lay around with a bloated belly. Anything can grow in a Kay’s womb, for it was almost as fertile as the very essence of life. Though this is undoubtedly an exaggeration, I did not remain pregnant for long. That month, I did not leave the woods. I refused nurses and handmaidens. Only Dezzy insisted that I not face this alone, for she was too naïve to understand what incubated inside me.
Lefnir held me during the birth. The pain was much worse than the previous, in a different way. Utter coldness, like some kind of liquid frost, dripped between my thighs. My chattering teeth sunk into Lefnir’s arm, relishing in the warmth of his blood like a bitter mother’s milk. I had gone utterly mad, consumed by what I was convinced was an incoming death.
A cold puddle lay at my trembling feet. It bubbled and popped, as if to prove it had some sentience. Lefnir cackled as he caressed my frozen brow. Delirious and on the verge of unconsciousness, I begged him to describe our son. I cannot recall his response, for I lapsed into a deep sleep. I dreamt of floating through a black void, incredibly vast and utterly empty. I was wholly conscious, yet unable to move. For a moment, I thought I was awake and under paralysis, for it was as dark as my sight. As though to dispel this fear and add a greater one, the void pulsated.
I awoke with a shriek. Lefnir sat by my side, whittling at a piece of wood with his claws. He put the wooden figure in my hands and left. Though it was extremely detailed, I could not make out its shape, despite fumbling it between my fingers for hours. When Dezzy and Vargrim came to visit, I showed it to them. Vargrim recalled seeing the image’s face carved on a large rock during his first visit to the island, so he assumed it had been created by Lefnir.
They were eager to see my child. Dezzy tactlessly asked if it resembled the mother or father. I reminded her that I was blind, and that Lefnir had taken our son temporarily. Before they left, Dezzy insisted I feel her pregnant belly, for the touch of a Kay was good luck. She giggled as it kicked fiercely. I was eager to meet the son of Vargrim one day, but for the meantime, I needed time to rest in solitude and asked that they refrain from visiting.
My Sap ceased until a week after the birth, and then become so potent I feared the woods would be overrun by my creations. Lefnir remarked that they had become increasingly ugly and tasted bland. I retorted that it didn’t stop him from picking the bones clean. He broke into a fit of laughter and said that those had not been eaten by him.
Like Lefnir, I was constantly aware of my son’s presence. The similarities between the two ended there. I had a vague idea of Lefnir’s intentions, whether spying or plotting. I could not begin to comprehend this puddle of cold muck. It lapped up my creations, innards and all, leaving the bones intact, always spread out in some pattern.
I was not present for Dezzy’s birth, though I believe I may have heard it. Her screams were so intense, it caused several of the nurses’ and maidens’ ears to bleed. Vargrim chuckled at this and remarked that Dezzy’s womb must be lined with iron, else it would not bear the birth of their son. Moments after this jest left his lips, the doctor announced the baby was a girl.
Vargrim’s wrath awoke me that night. I usually slept through his slaughter, but this time, he let out thunderous curses. Afraid he would frighten my son, I sought to stop him. He launched at me with sword in hand, only to stop the blade mid swing. Vargrim growled and tried to move his sword again, the tip rattling an inch away from the bridge of my nose. Something with immense strength was holding him in place. Within seconds, I heard Vargrim howl in fear for the first time. A wave of steam emitted from his body as my son’s frozen gelatinous form had engulfed him from head to foot. As quickly as he was swallowed, he was spat back out. The puddle slithered back into the darkness, leaving Vargrim in a shivering heap.
I was by his side when he awoke. Though he was much calmer than the previous night, he demanded to know what had assaulted him. I saw no reason to lie, and explained my son as best I could. He merely shuttered, then sunk his head in shame. His actions had shamed his wife and daughter, and nearly led to my death. From behind us, Lefnir laughed mockingly and said that only Vargrim would have died if pitted against his son.
As long as the island spat out creatures, he would not find peace in Yod. He decided to leave at the month’s end, and Lefnir volunteered to join him. At that moment, I realized the prospect of living in the woods, alone with my child, frightened me to the core.
Sometime later, Dezzy ran through my woods in a frantic stupor. A plague had spread through Yod—some sort of sleeping sickness—and it was suspected I was the cause. My seclusion and the rumors of my monstrous son had cemented their paranoia and given me the reputation of malevolent recluse.
The early symptoms for this sickness were night terrors and indescribable nightmares. The sleepers were left comatose shortly after, breathing normally but unflinching to outside stimulus. The victims’ lips sometimes moved, though the words formed were indecipherable. Torgos mentioned that Delisius spoke of the disease, and that the first outbreak started shortly after their war with the island’s spawn. Yod still had some of Vargrim’s ancestors, who interacted with the a few stray Kay during wartime. Only after they were completely separated did the disease cease spreading.
I could not fathom the precise reason for the outbreak. My mere presence in Yod could not be the cause, for I had lived the
re for far too long. My first conclusion was their exposure to the Sap. I did not understand the substance, nor did Delisius, though his notes may have shed light on the matter. Perhaps there had even been some kind of chronicle of the first outbreak.
I immediately told Dezzy to ask Torgos to search every inch of the kingdom for any remnants of Delisius’s writings. She shook her head rapidly and told me a mob was headed for the woods and would arrive at any moment. They intended to kill me. I begged Dezzy to leave, but she refused, insisting the writings would be useless if I were not alive to decipher their meaning.
I heard their chanting and felt the heat from their torches. Dezzy threw herself on top of me and dared them to strike. The men murmured to one another, fearful of accidently striking the wife of Vargrim. Torgos let out a curse and pried Dezzy off of me, pushing her to the side haphazardly. Deprived of my shield, the army charged without hesitance.
Lefnir, donned in his battle gear, leapt in front of me. Every man let out a simultaneous cry as he plunged into their crude formations, effortlessly rending them to pieces. Not a single soldier raised his weapon to the blood-frenzied Lefnir. He mocked their cowardice with each blow, claiming Torgos lacked the courage to raise his hand to defy the island’s greatest spawn.
Torgos’s hand firmly clasped Lefnir’s throat. He had seized his antagonist with blinding speed that left everyone present in awe. Lefnir manage to slash Torgos’s face before being slammed into the ground and knocked unconscious. With surprising calm, Torgos asked that I surrender and apologized for the brazen violence. I breathed a sigh of relief, and complied, as long as my home was evacuated and Lefnir left unharmed.