|
• The House of Voivode •
part four: a fiery fall
by Neishai
Abstract Destiny • Biosynth 04 • Biosynth 05 • Hatching 04 • Hatching 05
Ignatius had perched himself upon one of the upper peaks of a church among the gargoyles and brooding storm clouds. They seemed good company this day, though he was probably one of the less likely in his clan to have such dark and sullen thoughts as to find comfort in them. Quicksilver tears fell from the sky, hissing and sizzling as they burned across his skin. He looked skyward, a melancholy tilt to his feline eyes and brow, feeling rejection even from the heavens. He sighed finally, shivering a little and hunkering down into his long coat, turning up the collar to cover his neck.
He navigated the rooftops barefooted, the tough padding of his anthropomorphic feet protecting against the wet, grime, and coarseness of stone and metal. Storeys below he heard the menacing voices of villagers condemning the Devil and his minions, namely, innocent victims of the Church's totalitarian rule. Those who would dare exercise their free will and creativity of thought were often persecuted, and if found to be of no use to the Church, flogged, inquisitioned, crucified, and even burned alive. The latter would be the main event of today, and Ignatius had had enough of it all.
He had traveled north and east with his clan brother, a Japanese fox spirit who called himself Inari, to tour Europe. Inari had always been a soul ruled by wanderlust - a love of his brethren but a desperate need to travel. Ignatius had himself come to a point in his life where he needed to do some soul searching. He too had become restless, feeling both powerful and powerless, one who has accomplished much…but to what end? And so, their Patriarch Voivode himself had released them to wander this continent until a time when they could return. The vampire had time - all the time in the world - to wait for his knights' return.
Ignatius smiled briefly to himself as he moved closer to the front of the church and the town square. Not only had Voivode so much time, but creatures like Inari and himself had time as well…hundreds if not thousands of years to straighten themselves out. And while Inari had no need of a soul-searching escapade, he was more than happy to accompany an old friend like Ignatius. And he would be somewhere nearby, most certainly.
Also nearby would be their escort, a small dragon whose allergy to sunlight kept her dormant during the day. This strange condition was what had attracted her to Voivode in the first place. What better servant to a vampire than a nocturnal dragon? She was, in general, a good-natured sort, with a wild streak that often made her dangerous, though to her credit, far more dangerous to her foes than her friends. She was small and whip-like in the air, strong for her size and most importantly intelligent and level-headed even when she was in trouble. Voivode doted on her and the others had long ago stopped harassing her. She was now most certainly one of the family. And her name, though born Vaumeth, had evolved into Warum, pronounced vah-room, which oddly enough, meant "why" or "wherefore", or simply VaRoom, for more obvious reasons.
Ignatius crossed one final ridge on the large church, perhaps closer in size to a cathedral, and the jeering, yelling and cursing tripled in volume. He made his way up to a spire and held on just to keep his balance as a wave of vertigo and disgust slammed into his chest and stomach. How could humans treat one another so terribly? He could understand the violent treatment directed upon one such as himself, who, if his illusionary spells had been lowered, would appear hellacious indeed. But the small group below him would be very human - perhaps a little too ugly, or too tall, too beautiful, or simply too smart or not devout enough.
He swallowed the bile and inched his way forward as a bishop began to announce their crimes. Tied to four large poles were several detainees, including a couple past their prime (probably around forty for their expected lifespan these days), a very old woman (mid fifties to early sixties), and a young woman. All four individuals appeared harmless, though perhaps the girl knew how to pick pockets or something. He rolled his eyes and wonder what excuse the Church had thought up.
Unfortunately, the only excuse the Church needed was that they were all witches, and at high noon they would all be burned at the stake. He watched as they built a huge bonfire that would suffice to burn four bodies alive, four large poles to tie them to. He watched in horror and dismay, realizing suddenly the time as the large clock tower began to ring the hour. Twelve chimes later the torches were lit and several men walked around the pile, lighting sticks and tar as they passed. The prisoners were screaming in terror, beseeching the bishop and their peers. Surely they knew that they were harmless and meant no ill will toward anyone.
"Have mercy," they cried.
And the reply, "May God have mercy on your souls."
The crowd was in an uproar. As each victim cried out, someone threw a piece of rotten fruit or meat at them, kicked dirt or animal feces from the street at them. Their condemning replies were even offending to the spectator. Ignatius was ashamed for them. They seemed torn between a desire to rush the growing flames to attack the so-called witches and continuing their antics. They were enjoying themselves, grins spreading across their zealous faces into almost demonic smiles. Had they any idea? Where was that bishop in all of this?
Ignatius felt the anger burn deep within. Rage rippled up and down his spine, over his skin. A hot wind seemed to capture his hair and toss it around his head as he rose from his crouch, his fists and tail curling into tight balls of fury. The air around him also began to curl and ripple like water or--
Suddenly a firm hand had clapped him on the shoulder, breaking his train of thought and surprising him beyond words. He did not even jump, simply frozen for a moment before swinging around at the waist, eyes staring in shock and mouth hanging open. His wide, lake-blue, feline eyes met with a pair of slanted vulpine eyes. They too were blue, but several shades lighter like the ocean on a clear day, or the same sky at its apex. As always they almost seemed to smile back at him, though that was simply a trick of the kitsune's facial structure.
Index finger pressed to his lips, Inari advised silence and caution without uttering a word. His beauty and grace was completely foreign to the feline world. As always it both fascinated and commanded obedience. Unfortunately, even as Ignatius nodded, still gripped by shock, the first screams of pain tore through the air, ruining any chance of Inari simply walking away with him. Ignatius snarled and spun around, but not before Inari could grab him by the arm, just above the elbow.
"Let me go!"
"I will not," Inari said calmly. "This is not our fight."
Once again, the air around Ignatius had begun to swirl and heat up noticeably, from chilly to balmy. One could see it ripple and flicker with a nearly invisible tongue of flame here and there. Now, whatever stray raindrops that might fall upon his skin hissed, fizzling as they were eradicated by his awesome heat. Inari's hand began to burn.
"How can you have traveled so many centuries among humans and not be moved by such a scene? Doesn't it disturb you deeply? Doesn't it make you want to make things right? Or are you so dead inside?"
Inari frowned, not exactly offended, but hurt all the same. "Of course I feel it. I am saddened that humanity has not improved in the millennia I have lived. But you must realize we cannot save everyone. If you try, the times you fail will tear you up inside."
"I can save them!" Ignatius was suddenly nose-to-nose with Inari, hissing with such ferocity that the kitsune was forced a step back. When his grip wavered, his companion ripped free, small gashes from his claws tearing into his arms, and he faulted off of the church's roof.
"No! Don't do this!" Inari cried, knowing it was a futile expenditure of breath. On hands and the balls of his feet he crouched, hawk-like wings providing a sort of canopy above his head. To anyone below he simply appeared not to be. He sighed, resigned that Ignatius may very well need their help in this… Vaumeth, please… if you are nearby come meet me on the church roof. We may need to leave this area quickly.
The reply was clipped and slightly annoyed. The time of day was very inopportune for her, though he assured her the sun was hidden behind some of the thickest, blackest clouds he had seen in weeks. Grudgingly, she replied that she would come, knowing that by the urgency in his voice, she would need to hurry.
Inari sighed once more, both relieved and apprehensive as he turned his attention to the scene unfolding below. Ignatius' wings had broken his fall, though he had been completely engulfed in flames in his rage, head to tail, wingtip to wingtip. To the spectators in the crowd, it appeared as if a man had fallen to his death from the church roof after being set ablaze. Their attentions had been ripped from the burning witches to the single burning man, who was at this very moment rising from his crouch, glaring with baleful determination at the crowd. He walked with deadly grace, wings spread out behind him and curving in beautiful flaming arches. He looked like an angel of Hell, his anthropomorphic legs, feline ears and long tail completing the look.
Several women screamed, dragging their children away from him. His lip curled in disgust as they retreated. Who brings their kids to watch an execution? Pretty much everyone. He screamed an unholy inhuman sound that silenced even the pagan non-believers behind the wall of sticks and flames. "Out of my way, you wretches, or I will burn you where you stand!"
The crowd parted, giving him ample room to the point of ridiculousness. Many fled, unwilling to face this satanic force in their midst. There was no telling what corruption he might spread just by being there. Others watched in silent horror or terror, some whimpered, and some had fallen to their knees to pray under their breath. Some had forgotten their prayers and simply sobbed. On one level, Ignatius took some measure of comfort in his relative safety, though he had no idea how long this would last. Mostly however, he had eyes only for the wall of flames before him.
He passed through the fire with no trouble. They tickled his fur and skin like feathers though he ignored the pleasant feeling. There was nothing pleasant about what he beheld. The four individuals were in various states. The couple had been tied closer to the edge of the flames and were currently burning alive. Screams and sobs tore from their constricted chests as they reached for one another in one last vain attempt to embrace. The other two were in better condition, though the girl's legs were being licked by the flames. The old woman stared at him with wild-eyed terror but was otherwise unharmed.
Ignatius went for the girl first, and as he did smelling searing flesh and outhouse swirling through the air mixed in with the burnt-wood and noxious tar odors. Sneezing slightly, he knelt before her and untied her restraints. He expertly lowered the heat of his own flames to save her the pain of even more burns. The scars trailing up her legs would be bad enough.
When she was finally free, she collapsed against his chest sobbing and voicing her undying gratefulness. All she could see was a beautiful young man come to her rescue. There was no firecat with wings of flame holding her shoulders. Or…perhaps she simply did not care.
He left her safely near the old woman and began to untie her. The girl sat, legs curled around her, shock having set in and allowing her a moment of respite from the pain. The woman meanwhile shook her head and began to mutter frantically. "No, no," she muttered over and over again, resisting his efforts.
"I won't hurt you, please trust me," he told her, over and over again. But there was little he could do, for as the final restraint came free, she broke away and ran straight into the fire, dancing around and laughing insanely. She babbled incoherently about salvation and Heaven, repentance and regret for turning away from the Path of Righteousness. When she broke free of the bonfire, she was completely engulfed in flames, running through the streets, half laughing half screaming until she finally collapsed. She screamed and screamed until the flames finally claimed her.
Ignatius' pain was incredible. The couple had long since died. He had been unable to even give them a moment together before their deaths. One survival out of four? He looked down at the girl, who looked back at him with awe and adoration, and felt nothing but grief. "Come on," he said, his scratchy voice thick with despair, as he scooped her up almost effortlessly and leapt into the air, the air currents from the bonfire lifting him high above even the church. He noticed Inari take flight a moment later, and with him the near-white form of their draconic escort Vaumeth. He felt the weight of the girl's head against his chest and found it comforting, strangely enough.
• • •
The sun began to peek through the clouds, hours and tens of miles away, impelling Vaumeth to lead them into a thick patch of forest. Already her delicate hide was darkening with sunburn. Moaning her irritation, the small albino dragon glared squinty red eyes down at Inari. I hope you're happy; Voivode shall tan your hide for this.
"It couldn't be helped," Inari said simply, finding a container of fragrant ointment and applying it to the inflamed areas at once. He did not blame Ignatius verbally or silently; the firecat had done what he felt he must, and he had responded in kind. Who knew what could have happened without the dragon's presence. After a few moments, he said, "You realize she can never go back to her normal life. What the villagers saw..." He trailed off purposefully.
"I know." Ignatius was studying the girl he held in his arms; her burns were extensive but not life-threatening. Surely she would be scarred, at least mildly, for the rest of her life. "We don't know anything about her though. How can we possibly just take her with us?"
"What do you propose we do?"
Vaumeth watched the pair discuss the girl's future without comment, thoroughly enjoying the careful administrations of the winged fox, his feathered wings breathing a soft breeze across her tingling hide. When Inari was finished, she continued to lie in a fuzzy, contented afterglow for a few moments. Finally: Why not ask her what she wants?
Cat and fox looked up at her as Inari handed the salve over to Ignatius. The order of treatment was completely natural for them. Though Vaumeth's "injuries" were far more inconsequential than the girl's, she would have made a greater fuss than the suffering, now-unconscious human.
Ignatius carefully began to administer the salve to the girl's blistered skin, slathering more than was necessary rather than risk rubbing damaged skin away as it was wont to do. Her clothes were charred, falling to ash in places. He sighed softly to himself as she shuddered in pain and moaned piteously.
Inari also sighed just to look upon the scene. He hated to see his friend ache with such sympathy. "Well, we have time to find out, don't we. I'll go find something to eat." He glanced up at Vaumeth.
Don't worry about me. I ate only recently. The pale dragon chuckled softly, hot breath teasing his long forelock of auburn hair. Though if you should happen to find a stray deer, I won't be opposed to a little venison.
"I'm sure you wouldn't."
• • •
As he crouched, he fanned the last dying coals with his blood-tipped wings, watching the breeze they created bring them to life. The air around him smelled of charred flesh; the lonely skeletons of the wooden stakes reached up forlornly to the murky sky as in the bed of coal blackened bones shivered and crumpled in the heat. Marrow and bone popped, and the kitsune's ears twitched spasmodically. He forced back tears of rage; this was one of many things he hated most about man, and no, he did not feel nothing for these poor souls.
In fact, he felt far more than nothing, and he was not about to let their deaths go unpunished.
Behind him across the church square was the sound of dozens of voices raised up in song. Did they really believe their praises would be heard in heaven? The hollowness of their words will echo, if their voices reach that far. But I'll be sure their screams reach their destination, and their souls Fall where they should.
As far as he was concerned, every last person in that church was guilty. Every last soul inside was dark with bloodstains and soot. Every last villager had watched as these people burned alive, and not one had moved to stop their murders. None of the victims would currently rest, and no one was left and willing to bring them to justice.
Except him. Ignatius was busy. Vaumeth was injured. Their new charge was the only survivor and worse off than their dragon-friend.
With a soft jeer and bitter smile, the kitsune rose to his feet, bringing with him a fistful of hot coal. Its acrid burn not only heated his hand but also stung his eyes. This made the already present tears overflow and spill down his cheeks in a single stream.
He took to the air with strong wingbeats, rising high above the ground. As he rose, the crackling coals rocked and shimmered in the off light then began to follow him upward. What was left of the stakes shook from their foundations and shot up after him. They sailed over the church before the stakes veered off and angled their way toward the doors and the stained glass window above the altar. They crashed inward almost simultaneously, the stakes at each door barring it shut, the one at the window shattering the mosaic rainbow, falling to the floor like a cascade of deadly hail.
Inari hovered over the steeple, eyes closed in grim concentration. Coals swirled slowly about him, flaring to life. In amongst them were the darkened bones of the "witches". What bitter irony that the victims would soon be instruments in their own vengeance.
The charged particles of flame and gore flowed down through the gaping window and in their wake an amazing surge of screams and shouts. In his mind's eye Inari watched the fragments catch on clothing and hair, drapery, rugs, and with patience, wood. The groans of horror became pain-flecked, agony-riddled, blood-filled. Char-broiled. The smell of cooking meat wafted up anew, only intensifying with efforts to escape through windows and stake-barred doors.
Inari did not laugh nor did he smile with satisfaction. He merely flew away with a deep sigh as the inferno rose above the roof. Let any survivors try to escape; if any did, perhaps they had learned a lesson about their evil ways.
On his way back the kitsune found some rabbits. There were no deer for Vaumeth, but there was an extra rabbit should she take a fancy.
• • •
Terah's stoof follows. @.x;
• • •
The return home was short-lived for the quartet. Terah's rehabilitation was cut short with near-miraculous herbs and medicines, though her pain would be suffered for quite some time. Nevertheless, she opted to follow Ignatius wherever he went that was not too dangerous for a non-combatant.
The dragons bonded at the Ring of Fire were both varied and useful. Another locale had even more varied dragons and like creatures, with different abilities, such as death, dark, and earth magicks. "I want you to go there, and see what you can find out," Voivode said. "Sponsor or bond, there are always new dragons out there, so don't be afraid to be picky."
Ignatius chuckled. "Afraid."
Picky, Vaumeth chortled.
"And don't be angry if you do bond," Kamali added, eyeing both Ignatius and Inari in turn. "The dragon chooses you."
The kitsune eyed the mouse-boy thoughtfully. Perhaps he could simply watch. He preferred to live alone.
"Well, the more the merrier I always say," Ignatius shrugged with a little grin, loving the snug feeling of home and family.
Vaumeth shrugged. Any bond of mine better dote on me, that's all I have to say. Otherwise, I'd rather live with Voivode unbonded. She turned her weird red eyes upon the vampire gazing at him adoringly.
"Like I said..." Kamali shrugged and wandered off down a castle hallway, his piece spoken. He had other things to do. The albino dragon's snickers followed him partway.
"I will do what I can." Terah, the girl Ignatius had saved, shivered slightly with a zinger of pain.
"Do not feel obliged to go," Voivode said gently. "You should rest still; that no amount of healing and drugs can replace."
"I know...but I will try." She smiled up at Ignatius feeling utterly safe because of him. Certainly she did not feel somehow immortal, now..?
"I'll make sure she is careful."
"All right. Come back safe and bristling with new draconic soldiers."
The trio of humanoids climbed atop Vaumeth and took flight, hovering for a moment or two before she disappeared into thin air. They reappeared in a metal box, a vast room inside a space station orbiting around a planet, though all they could see outside were many stars.
• • •
Only Vaumeth had really gotten used to their new environment in the short time during their stay on the Abstract Destiny. She was, after all, a Light Court dragon - a term which meant very little to her companions. She assured them however, that their current position put them among the stars, looking down upon those whom might look up at the heavens with wonder.
The constant thrumming of engines was a strange comfort to Ignatius, who was himself a cat. In a way, it also reminded him of a womb-like prenatal environment he could almost remember, a time when everything was molten and glowing-hot though here everything was cool and sterile.
Inari was ill at ease. Nothing was natural except for the raw metals used to construct the ship - no more natural than a sword or piece of armor, admittedly. He often found himself tracing his fingers along bare walls and walking barefoot down the halls when at all possible. The time or two they visited the hatching bays in a tour, he had been astounded to find that the floor covering was carpet-like ... moss! That time the "smile" on his face had been genuine.
Terah wore tight wraps around her burns to help them heal. Though she was in near-constant pain, she found that movement helped to get her mind off of it. She tried to follow Ignatius whenever he left their rooms, and even ventured off to visit Vaumeth who needed slightly larger lodgings than they. Sometimes she even wandered the halls for no better reason than to walk, on which occasions Inari often accompanied her. Then, sometimes, they looked out at the depthlessness of Space, or the planet below (or Star City itself!) with quiet awe and spoke in hushed tones that befit the mood.
continued
• • •
The Abstract Destiny, the inhabitants residing therein and its adoptable dragon and cyborbot images © Phe aka Xenoqueen.
Clan Taratus and its members and familiars are solely mine. Their unauthorized use risks my wrath.
• • •
|