Speak With

Clouds

2007-09-26T07:50:15Z

Rahab had no idea what possessed him to “keep” Makai. He obviously couldn’t simply let him go, if he was indeed sent to kill Heruseki. And he couldn’t bring himself to kill Makai, either. It didn’t seem fair to cause more mindless bloodshed in the name of the Speak With.
Whatever her real name was.

At that point, Makai Asare was a prisoner of war. Because, as far as Rahab was concerned, this was war.

It had been cloudy for several days now. Barakiel’s birthday was tomorrow. Rahab had never done anything for Heruseki’s…eighteenth birthday? Barakiel was going to be seventeen. Maybe, he thought, he could do a double-birthday party. He wasn’t sure how to go about making it a surprise, however, as the group was basically forced to stay uncomfortably close-knit.

“Raziel, do you think you could possibly take the reigns today?” Rahab approached his brother with a face that now grotesquely matched his eyes.
“Sure, I can take care of it, no worries. Did you become…ill last night?”
He didn’t need to answer. Raziel took him by the shoulders and steered him to the mattress laid out in the carriage. “Just lie down, maybe have a nap.”

He laid his brother out and Arariel carefully tucked him into bed and promised to stay with him while Raziel sat in front and steered.
“Is there anything you need? Do you think you’re going to be sick?”
“…No,” Rahab smiled faintly and felt his eyes grow heavy. “Just sit here with me, please.” His voice had lost the thunderous quality it carried while he was in good health, and now it had a soft hoarseness to it.
Arariel smiled and leaned against the carriage walls.
“You have a very pretty name, Arariel. Where did your parents come up with that?”

“I guess…it was a town. Or is a town, actually, it…didn’t stop being a town.” She was not entirely sure what to say to him. They seldom talked, and she felt herself stumbling through conversation.
“Ah. Interesting, did they ever take you to visit this town growing up?”
Arariel gave a nervous laugh. “No, actually, they have never been to it themselves. Well, I know my mother hasn’t. My father…well he is a different story.” She said this last sentence with such spite in her voice that Rahab decided against asking about her father. He understood, all too well, about “daddy issues.”

“So…they named you after a town…they’ve never been to? Is it a town they had always hoped to see?” Rahab was hoping the subject wasn’t terribly soft.

“I have no idea. I didn’t really keep asking questions after my mother told me she basically picked a random place on a map to name me after. Or at least that’s how she made it sound.”

Rahab went quiet.

“…I’m sorry, if that sounded snappy, I don’t mind if you ask questions. I know I ask you things all the time.”

“No, you have every right to be…what’s a good word…persnickety.”

Arariel giggled at this.

There was a clear tension between them, even with Rahab lying groggy. Heruseki lay napping in a corner and they both looked over to her periodically.

“I think she’s pretty out.” Rahab whispered, not fully sure of himself. Barakiel sat in the front to keep Raziel company. The awkwardness loomed.

“Arariel,” Rahab made a pitiful attempt at sitting up, “I’m tired of fucking around like this.”

Arariel was taken aback at his sudden blatancy. “Excuse me?”

He did his best to keep his tones hushed. “All of this relationship drama…it’s just one giant loop. I…” he paused at the feeling of an oncoming sneeze. It decided not to come. “I can’t remember what I was saying now.”

“It was nonsense whatever it was.” Arariel replied, hoping he would change the subject.

“I know how you felt about me during high school. I think everyone else did too.”

Arariel’s face changed shades. “Rahab, please don’t strain yourself over this now, that’s all dead anyway. I decided to move on from that because…well, it wasn’t right. You were with Heru. And I had a boyfriend anyway.”

“No, Arariel, listen,” he looked over to Heruseki again. “I just wanted you to know, that I felt the same way.”

If it were possible for a face to melt, Arariel’s would have been a puddle on the floor now.

“But I didn’t say anything for the same reason. I had a girlfriend, you had a boyfriend…and besides,” he stopped to cough, hoping and praying to Raziel’s luck god that Heruseki would stay lost in her dreams, “I really did love her.”

Arariel offered a half smile. “I’m glad.”

And she really was glad. Love was always a good thing in her book, even if she was a little sad that they weren’t together now, because she seemed it a waste for no one at all to be lucky enough… And there was some regret at never having known what could have been.

Rahab had wanted to add “And I still do,” but he didn’t feel any need to further sicken himself.

“I’m just so tired of all of this, Arariel."

“Don’t worry about it. It’s over now. Mine was just a silly high school crush anyway; honestly, I barely knew you outside of choir.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m just now realizing how very monotonous life is. And it always has been.”

“…Rahab, we’re on this big epic quest to fight some huge terrible demon, what do you want from life?”

He sighed. “I’ve just wasted so much of it living in Crayola shades…so phony and over-used. That’s what I am. Phony and over-used.”

“I don’t know about over-used, but you are definitely one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. Rahab, I have met some phony people. I’m not sure you’re capable of acting fake.”

Rahab rolled over and pushed his face against his pillow. He squeezed the pillow tightly and let the tears soak in. She doesn’t know me at all, then. But she really does care. And that’s more than Heru would give…
He didn’t know if the illness was talking or if he was speaking freely at this point, and he honestly didn’t care.

“Is it still cloudy outside?” he asked through his pillow.

“Yes. Why?”

“…No reason.”

“It’s strange…I’ve never seen such black clouds.”

I feel like I’ll be attending my funeral soon.

“Are those run-off from our storm, do you think?”

Her mother named her after a town that is probably blanketed in rolling black clouds. My father named me after the very first fallen angel. Why do people do things like this to their children?

“Do you think we’re getting close?”

Rahab felt a white hot burn on his hand and knew exactly which ring it was.

I think we are getting close.

Shock

2007-02-11T22:52:32Z

The next day, Heruseki awoke to the smell of muffins being carried into the hotel. She instantly sat up and her ears perked. “Muffin?”
Barakiel walked by her bed and dropped one on her lap.
“Fuck yeah, muffin!” she sunk her teeth into it, completely disregarding the paper wrapper. After the muffin was devoured and Heruseki vaguely acknowledged that she had just eaten paper, she turned to look at Orobas. A sudden flood of memories flowed through her mind and her eyes lit up.
“Oro-chan,” Heruseki said, standing up.
Orobas silently acknowledged Heruseki. She felt a sudden, tight grip as Heruseki threw her arms around Orobas, a small, high-pitched sigh escaping her.
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, “for taking care of me.”
Though Heruseki was an inch taller than Orobas (in her human form), and much older looking, she felt as though a small child were hugging her. It was in Heruseki’s voice, and in the way that she dug her cheekbone into Orobas’ shoulder; there was something very childlike in Heruseki that Orobas had overlooked before. And why had she attached “chan” to the end of Orobas’ name…?
Heruseki pulled back, a coy smile on her lips. Orobas was surprised to find that although she often looked dead, she actually exuded an immense warmth upon contact. Her eyes shown vividly against her ashen-grey face, and instantly, she was gone, off to do who knows what.
Orobas stood stunned, unsure of how to respond. Barakiel laughed at the puzzled look on her face and asked her if she’d never had a hug before.
“That was just…the last thing I was expecting.”
“Yeah, she never hugs,” Arariel added, wiping the frame of her lyre with a soft cloth, her deep eyes downcast and thoughtful. She glanced over at Rahab and fought a smile at the expression on his face. He stood just off-center of the doorway, his shoulders sagged, his knees somewhat bent, and his arms slack at his sides as his fingers just barely grasped at a small black ring. His lips were parted a small space, and his eyes seemed to search invisible text that lie just below eye level for an explanation of what the hell just happened. He suddenly became aware of the ring in his hands and fumbled it, stuffing it into his front pants pocket. He took his usual long, fast strides and stopped in front of Orobas, looking at least as puzzled as she.
“What just happened?”
“Uh…” Orobas was taken aback; it was as foggy to her as it was to him. “Heruseki…thanked me for…keeping her away from that guy…I guess…?”
Rahab’s jaw tightened. His fingers danced absentmindedly on the pocket where the ring resided, and Orobas raised an eyebrow at him. He then realized he was in uncomfortably close proximity of her and he nearly jumped back. His fingers made their way from his off-center widow’s peak to the base of his neck, sending his hair askew.
“What’s that in your pocket, Rahab?” Barakiel instantly twitched and choked at the realization of what she had just said. “I meant what did you put in your pocket?” She added quickly at Rahab’s reproving scowl.
Orobas, seeing that Rahab was uncomfortable, asked him instead “What does ‘chan’ mean, Rahab?” and then regretted it, seeing that this question did not alleviate his discomfort.
“It’s… it’s like a term of endearment, I guess. That’s the best explanation I can offer.” He lowered his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, and Orobas had gathered that this was an expression of embarrassment for him. He offered Orobas a sheepish smile and then abruptly turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Orobas made a relatively mechanical movement to the bed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “What just happened, Barakiel?!”
Barakiel snickered and sat down next to the profoundly confused Orobas. She scratched at the hair that fell above her ear, amused at the realization that it was the same length as Rahab’s, and her other brother had hair longer than both of them. “You just poned Rahab without even realizing it, and his giant ego is beating him over the head right now.”
Orobas hyperventilated quietly at her own failure to grasp Barakiel’s explanation, and thereby heightening her confusion.
“He’s jealous, or dejected, or something. You’re nearly a perfect stranger to Heruseki by comparison, and you have more of her affection than he does, to put it simply.”
Orobas’ confusion turned to annoyance. “That idiot! She was just thanking me; it’s nothing to feel threatened about!”
There was a brief pause. “Yeah,” Barakiel said a moment later. “I could tell he was feeling a bit ashamed of it. Rahab’s lousy at masking his emotion. It’s on his face, in his voice, even in his hand gestures. Body language…he’s pretty fucking emotive about life. I think the skill of subtlety was passed mostly to Raziel.”
Orobas reclined on the bed, resting her head in her laced fingers. “He has very intense feelings,” she observed. “Not that Raziel doesn’t, but he has more self-control than Rahab. He’s very…quick to react, without thinking.”
Barakiel lit a cigar, earning a look of pure disgust from Orobas. “He’s the kind of guy who lives through feeling first and thought second. He’s always been that way. Raziel’s the opposite.”
“He’s like a child.” Orobas almost snarled, and yet a smile flickered on her face and there was amusement in her voice.
“He’s a nineteen-year-old guy. That being said…eh, he’s my brother. And I guess he’s alright.”

Upon exiting the hotel Rahab stumbled across Makai, who was sitting lonely on the hotel stoop. This guy, Rahab had decided, was flat-out odd. What exactly does he want? Is he going to kill Heru? Will he try to run away? Is he still communicating with the Speak With? Does he have…the same mark from her?
“Yeah.”
Rahab snapped from his thoughts at Makai’s voice. Yeah? It was as if Makai could read his thoughts. Rahab grew paranoid. Can he? If he can…can he read all of his thoughts? All of the time? Right now? What had he responded “yeah” to?
But Makai was silent now, and Rahab felt his heart pounding in his throat. His muscles went tense and he knew he was overreacting. Makai had probably just been acknowledging his presence.
“That Heruseki,” Rahab was shocked to hear his voice again, “thinks I’m familiar. What do you think?”
Rahab stood in silence. He had no idea how to respond to that.
And then suddenly, he collided with the sense of being very much awake.
“How long have you been following us?”
Makai’s eyes hardened.
“Since the demon town? Were you the light that Heru saw when she was being mugged?”
“Mr. Nephilim, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Y…you don’t make any sense!”
Yes, that was dumb. He had no idea how to explain what he was thinking or how he knew that was Makai. But he could see a light in Makai’s eyes that struck him as something familiar.
Makai looked up at him and smiled. “The demon town. Sälvinjasdéilek, you mean? I was there, yes. The same time your party was. Yes, you and Miss Kagirinai are correct. That was me.”
Rahab lifted Makai by the shoulders. “What are you? What are you that you could scare all of those demons away from Heru?”
Suddenly a wicked smile spread across Makai’s face. His teeth were long and pointed, and he looked up at Rahab from behind his stringy hair as he lowered his head. “I’m just like you, Rahab. I’m one of Speak With’s.”

Affliction

2007-02-11T22:48:44Z

This newcomer, Makai, seemed initially unsure that these were the people that the Speak With meant. He found that Heruseki was not in the least the ominous demon he had been expecting. Rather, she was childlike and relatively quiet. The Speak With had made her out to be brutally strong, intensely fast, and monstrously violent. His observations indicated that she was physically weaker than most of the group, had a loose, awkward gait due to her gangly stature, and had no will to annihilate anything--or do anything, for that matter.
However, Makai was absolutely certain that this man was the right one. Rahab Nephilim, and he thought he heard that white-haired man call the dark-haired man “Rahab.” How many people are named Rahab, honestly? The rings on his fingers, his red coat, and his pointed ears told Makai that this was Rahab. He would be accompanied by her--the barrier, along with four others. A druid, a bard, a cleric, and The Prophet: a key player in her game. And when the pieces fall into place, then he could initialize the orders The Speak With gave him.
“Poor thing’s all tuckered out.” Barakiel smiled at the sleeping Heruseki, who was limp on the bed and breathing deeply. “Went right to sleep.”
“We should do something for her birthday.” Rahab said, his eyes cast on Heruseki as well, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “As a sort of…late celebration.” He felt at the money in his cloak pocket, wondering what he could get for her. He remembered Barakiel’s birthday was this month. It was difficult having birthdays so close together. Makai sneezed and Rahab remembered he was there. “What do I do with you?”
Makai shrugged hesitantly, averting his eyes from Rahab’s stare.
“What had you planned to do once you caught Heru?”
Makai’s eyes seemed to glaze over, his pupils widening from slits into actual circles. Rahab could see in his eyes exactly what he had planned.
“Why would the Speak With want that?” Rahab was barely audible.
“She didn’t tell me why, she just told me to do it.”
Rahab’s brow furrowed. “Did she pay you?” He saw Makai squirm in his seat, his fingers playing at his long black jacket clumsily.
“No,” he mumbled. “She didn’t pay me.”
Rahab pulled a chair up in front of Makai, knowing that this may take a while.
“She… I had to do it as payment to her. She helped me.”
Suddenly the color drained from Rahab’s face, and he looked as though he would be sick at any moment. He felt a tightening in his chest; he wasn’t sure if his heart rate had quickened or slowed. His fingers inched to his hip, but stopped again, instead occupying themselves with his hair. “She helped you.” his voice was dry. Suddenly his stare softened, his mood was generally warmer and more sympathetic. “She helped you,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that…I’m really, really sorry.”
Makai gave him a disbelieving, almost awed expression. How did Rahab know that it hadn’t turned out as he had hoped? That he had been cheated? Makai remembered that the Speak With had spoken of Rahab as though he were someone very familiar, maybe a dear old friend. Rahab didn’t seem to feel the same.
“So you were sent to kill Heru?”
Makai nodded sadly, lowering his head. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
“Kill me,” he said finally.
Rahab raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “If I don’t, will you kill Heru?”
Makai looked at Heruseki desperately, lying peaceful on the bed. “I… I don’t know. My debt remains until I kill her. If you were to just bump me off right here, then I wouldn’t have to pay her back…” he stopped short at the look on Rahab’s face.
“What would happen if you never paid her back?”
Makai’s eyes widened and he felt the skin on his face grow tight and uncomfortable. “I’d rather not think about it. She wouldn’t have the mercy to kill me, I know.”
Rahab’s eyes narrowed at Makai, who thought perhaps he was in trouble. Rahab grabbed Makai by the fabric of his shoulder and lifted him to his feet.
“That woman,” he snarled, “That…snake…” He seemed at a loss for words.
Orobas stirred now, watching Rahab’s anger rise. She knew from the moment that she entered the hospital room of the Speak With that there was something in this woman that was wicked and deceitful. The Speak With was immensely powerful, and the power rolled off of her like smoke. And like smoke, it was choking and foul and foggy. She carried a surface innocence that fooled many, and probably once fooled Rahab. But Orobas saw her clearly as she was, and she knew that becoming ensnared in the traps of this sorceress was a deadly mistake. She had a youthful face that dared one to drop their guard. If only Rahab had never chosen to become involved. If only he hadn’t sought her help at whatever point he had. If only…
“That witch has already begun her damage on me, and now she’s trying to finish it. But you…” Rahab and Makai exchange a mutual somber stare. “She isn’t going to hurt you…anymore.”

Prowlers

2007-02-11T22:45:12Z

While Rahab sulked at the hotel, the rest of the party sat in a lounge, located in the basement of an insanely popular restaurant named Scribble. What sort of food was served at Scribble, they had no idea-- they had only come to drink the coffee (or in Arariel’s case, the tea) and make use of the leather sofas. Besides, Scribble’s upstairs restaurant required reservations a month ahead of time.

What they did know about Scribble was that the walls were actually plasma screens that featured the artwork of local artists. Also, the chairs were shaped like tulips with petals that folded out to form a seat, and the toilets were giant diamond eggs that opened in half across the center. Mildly put, it was bizarre.

Heruseki listened to the thunder as though it were a very old friend reminiscing life to her.
“It feels strange drinking without Rahab,” Raziel said quietly, holding a dry martini.
“I tried to get him to come, but he was being a brat.” Barakiel said this flatly, and it was known by everyone that while she said this, she was very disappointed that he wouldn’t come along. Rahab, Barakiel believed, was far from perfect, but at least he never tried to be any more than he was. And that was all that was necessary.
It was her favorite thing about her brother. She wondered what had curbed his initial enthusiasm about moving up in the first place.
Orobas fidgeted nervously, and they all remembered that she was a horse first and a girl second. The hectic atmosphere must have been absolute torture. No one dared offer her coffee for fear of how she might react to it.
Arariel had never cared for coffee; it was not the taste that bothered her, it was the nauseated feeling she was left with afterwards. Coffee simply couldn’t get along with her stomach.
“I think we’d best get you out of here.” Raziel stood and faced Orobas, who looked up at him with a startled gaze.
It was a chore getting Orobas to try the stairs again; she simply would not use the elevator, and even though she now stood on two legs, she as terrified of the stairs. Raziel held her hand and patiently led her up, ignoring the stares of strangers in the café.
“That wasn’t so painfully horrible, was it?”
“I’m just glad it’s over.”
Raziel continuously looked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, and his uneasiness spread to Orobas.
“Everyone, don’t panic, but we’re being followed.”
Arariel began to look back and thought better of it. Best not let this person know that we know. But she wondered who was following them.
“It’s a cat-eared man.” Raziel seemed to read her mind. “Probably my age.”
Arariel had to wonder why a nineteen year old cat-eared man had decided to follow them; she had seen him in the restaurant but hadn’t thought much of it. He walked a good distance behind them and Arariel wouldn’t have noticed they were being followed at all. She wondered if Raziel was sure that he meant to stalk them.
In spite of the diversity of the city, Heruseki was surprised to find another cat-eared person. He was not the first she’d seen (Caym also had cat features), but it was not a common occurrence. His eyes were similar to hers, only instead of red and yellow, they were a light shade of grey. Same cat ears, same whiskers, same physique of long arms, legs, feet, fingers, face…. Even his hair was similar to hers, reaching to his chin just as hers did. His was a light, almost sandy shade of brown. Half of his face was hidden behind his hair, and he wore glasses that lacked the arms to hook around the ears (which would have been very awkward for him, given his ear shape and placement). Instead, they stayed in place with spring pressure on his nose. His face was sullen like Heruseki’s, and the peculiar resemblances between them gave her the chills.
Raziel whispered to Orobas in Elven that he was going to put Heruseki on her back, and she was to run (and be careful of the pedestrians).
Heruseki was walking without really looking when Raziel swept her up and hastily positioned her on Orobas’ back, shouting “Hold on!”
Orobas ran just fast enough to lose the pursuer, who’s ears backed and burst into a sprint. He ran faster than Orobas had anticipated, and she hastened her speed as she weaved through the crowd, who shouted and panicked at the large mustang that galloped past them. Her black tail and mane whipped behind her and her eyes began to flash from darkness to a burning red. Heruseki wanted to tell her that she’d better not set fire. Too bad she didn’t know Elven.
Raziel, Barakiel, and Arariel held back. “I knew it.” Raziel had said under his breath.
“Knew what?” Barakiel and Arariel asked in unison.
Raziel pulled a hair tie from off his wrist and pulled his shoulder-length silver hair into a ponytail. “He’s after Heru. Maybe it’s because of her cat ears. I think we should get Rahab.”

c c c

Raziel slipped his card into the hotel door’s slot and opened it. “Rahab--” he gasped, loose strands of silver falling into his face.
Rahab was not in the room. Instead a small note rested on his bed, and Raziel snatched it up urgently.
Went out. Back at midnight.
Love, Rahab.
“Dammit!” Raziel let the note float to the floor. “I should have just brought my phone with me--I always forget it when I really need it!” He rushed to the window at searched for Orobas. She couldn’t possibly be that difficult to find, as long as she stayed in horse form. He only hoped that she would not get herself into serious trouble…if it was possible to avoid such a thing. He fumbled through luggage for his cell phone, hastily dialing Rahab’s phone number.
“You both have that phone?! I hate you guys!” Barakiel examined the phone model Raziel held.
“Could you not think about electronics for a few minutes? I know doing the druid thing’s left you deprived, but we need to stay focused--” he cut himself short when Rahab’s voicemail answered.
“Fucker,” Raziel mouthed, throwing his phone against the pillow. He turned and bolted for the stairs, shouting “Come on!” to the girls. He did not bother with the actual steps, instead sliding down the railing, not caring what the woman at the front desk said. The girls followed suit, knowing that they were in enough trouble as it was, and sliding down the railing was a petty concern.
“This city is huge, Raziel! Where are we supposed to look for him?” Arariel called to Raziel.
“I think I know where he is!” Raziel shouted back.
Sure enough, the nearest bar contained a lone Rahab sitting on a stool. Even from behind, Raziel knew absolutely that it was him. Upon confronting him, Raziel found him entirely sober, an empty glass with remnant traces of Coca Cola resting at the bottom, and a cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth.
“Rahab!”
His reaction time was unusually slow, and Raziel had to shake him by the shoulder. He lifted the glass and smelled it to check for evidence of rum that may have been mixed in, as Rahab was known to do this. He sipped what was left of it and tasted no alcohol.
“Have you been drinking?”
Rahab shook his head sluggishly, still looking ahead rather than at his brother. His eyes were foggy and Raziel couldn’t believe he hadn’t been drinking. “If you’re sober, you need to help us find Orobas! She’s--”
Before he needed to explain, they felt a draft as Orobas bolted passed the open doorway of the bar, Heruseki still clinging to her back.
“There!” Raziel pointed behind him. Rahab waved lethargically at Orobas’ passing figure, the ash on his cigarette moving up.
“Never mind!” Raziel could see that Rahab wouldn’t be much use to them in this…whatever this state was. Instead he moved after Orobas, who was still being pursued by the mystery cat man. He found it difficult to keep up with this guy; he was certainly faster than a human. Well, he’s a demon. Go figure.
Raziel threw himself against the man, knocking him to the ground. The two toppled over each other and wrestled on the ground, causing an uproar amongst the passer-bys. Raziel pinned him at his shoulders. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The man panted, looking up at Raziel. He scowled and kept quiet. Barakiel came to his assistance and helped him drag the man to his feet. Orobas stopped and turned around, snorting and struggling to regain her normal breathing. The hair on Heruseki’s neck stood on end, and her eyes were wide as her nails dug into Orobas’ back and her legs squeezed her sides unconsciously. Arariel helped her off Orobas and held her arms as she recovered her balance. Her black hair stuck out every which way, and she panted, as though she had forgotten to breath. Had she had any color to her skin to begin with, it would be drained now.
Raziel violently slammed the man against a building wall, growling “You’ve caused us a great deal of trouble. Now why were you following Heru so determinedly?”
The man looked down, hiding from Raziel. “I’m not at liberty to say.” he said quietly. His voice was soft and hollow and seemed to echo in his chest cavity.
“Who are you?” Raziel asked again, growing impatient.
“I’m not at liberty to say.” he repeated.
Raziel jerked him and shoved him into the wall again, causing him to cough violently.
“Easy, Raziel!” Barakiel had never seen Raziel become violent, and she was sure she didn’t like it.
Raziel pulled the man’s wrists together behind his back and walked him forward, apparently in the direction of their hotel.
“You’re gonna give me some answers, kid.” Raziel stated flatly, forcing the man to walk.
They walked right passed the bar and Rahab heard Raziel shout “Come on, Rahab” from the doorway. Rahab wondered who the new guy was that Raziel was manhandling, and decided to force himself off of his barstool.
“Just send me to jail,” the man mumbled, hanging his head as he was sat in a chair at the hotel.
“You think we can talk to the authorities after the scene we made?” Raziel screamed, forcing his cat ears to back as he flinched. He began to search the man for some form of I.D., but there was none.
“Raziel, just take a deep breath. Let’s be reasonable,” Arariel said insistently. The man looked curiously to Rahab, who returned his gaze with indifference.
“This guy hassling you, Heru?” Rahab asked.
Heruseki nodded as she collapsed on a bed, groaning. Rahab stood and approached the man, a nonchalant expression on his face. The man suddenly grew nervous.
“What’s your name?” He asked point-blankly.
“I’m not at liberty to say.” It seemed this was an automatic recording that he gave mechanically to anyone who asked anything.
He gasped in pain as Rahab grabbed his wrist and twisted. His ears jerked back and he inhaled sharply, staying quiet.
“I’m going to break your wrist if you don’t answer me.”
“Makai!” he breathed at last. “Makai Asare!”
Rahab released him, still wearing a sterile expression. Now that Makai knew what Rahab would readily do to him, he would give answers.
“My name is Makai,” he blurted. “I was sent by the Speak With.”

Inner Voices

2007-02-10T23:02:29Z

That night there was a terrible thunderstorm. Rahab gave a shudder and thought of the storm they were moving towards and wondered if this was the runoff.

What is this storm? Is the storm the demon itself, or a result of the demon?

More importantly, what was the demon?

Part of Rahab was relieved to get his mind off of his recent worries. Bigger than his relationship problems, bigger than the hurricane, was the state of the country. Rahab decided that neutral political stance was the best political stance. Yes, there would be plenty who disagreed. But places like Switzerland seemed to being doing just peachy keeping absolutely out of other country’s businesses. And then there was this country. So prideful, so patriotic, and so ready to get involved where its not wanted. Intentions were certainly in the best place, but a good fifty percent of the country was kidding itself, sitting comfortably in a state of denial. The other fifty percent was throwing out good plans that lacked effective execution. Of course, those fifty percents were not perfect: there was a small percentage of people who just didn’t care, because as far as they were concerned, the whole damn country was wrong.

The new town they entered was more of a city, and a large one at that. Everyone was out on the town, while Rahab stayed at their hotel, doing silly things like contemplating the state of the nation, and life, and love, and how very lonely he was feeling, and other ridiculous things like that. He could have had a good time on a Saturday night, but being a brooding jerk felt better that night.

When did things start to fall apart? He tried very hard to remember; had it been his fault? Hers? Probably a combination, as it usually is a joint effort that ruins things.

But it all started at that hurricane. Not only did it ruin the lives of others by taking everything, but it seemed to suck the vitality, the very soul from Heruseki, and she was never quite the same. She became something strange and fake to Rahab, as though she no longer felt genuine feelings the way she once did. Her open honesty turned to a stone cold silence in his presence and what else could Rahab do but feel responsible? He was always being tested by her, and where he once felt that the two of them very well may have been joined at the hip, he began to feel that all he felt with her was empty. How could a hurricane do that? He knew her better, he knew that when a hurricane broke everything else, it wouldn’t break her. And how would it change the way she felt about him?

It was a strange thing, the time they spent together. They were not the couple you would find publicly spooning and whatnot. But everywhere they went one could find them walking, fingers laced, just acting as if they were taking a pleasant stroll completely alone, hardly aware of each other. It was a curious thing, the way they would walk completely in unison, finishing each other’s sentences, and fighting like little kids at diners over who got to use the orange crayon to connect the dots on their paper placemat. They would take turns, Rahab had remembered, carrying each other on their shoulders. This was an extremely difficult feat for the feeble-backed Heru, especially giving Rahab‘s muscle mass; while he has never been powerfully built, it was certainly more than Heruseki.

Perhaps, Rahab reflected, they had been too close. They began to assimilate, and a loss of identity is a frightening thing. He had never really noticed, and was definitely not bothered, but was this what pushed her away? It slowly turned into the sort of relationship where one would give and the other would take, and those relationships were always destined to sink. Rahab had been the giver, yet Heru was the one who ended it. Rahab hadn’t wanted it to end, but if it had to, he regretted not being the one to end it. He was left feeling used, and quite frankly, cheated.

The most painful part was that he was aware of it and he allowed it. Heru had meant everything, and for quite some time, that was returned to him.

Had she become bored? The two spent enough time together to the point where they could easily mirror each other without any effort. Were things becoming frighteningly predictable? Rahab had appreciated the security.

Then she just left. Left to the Northern Territory, and Rahab had felt this coming. He knew she would not stay because she could not stay. He had a desperate fear that their life spent together would end abruptly. He had asked her “Will you take me, too?” Her final words for him were “Don’t follow me.”

And that had been it. There was no affection, no hugs, not even an awkward handshake; just a simple “Don’t follow me” and she was gone. There had been no tears, no signs of feeling on either side. Rahab went home and curled up in bed, doing absolutely nothing for the remainder of the day. He stared at the ceiling and didn’t so much as think.

Rahab looked out the window as the rain beat against the glass, and he was glad for it. The rain seemed to carry all of the loneliness and regret down with it, but Rahab felt it was about time to start facing his problems. He drew a pillow to his chest and hoped they hadn’t done something stupid out there to get into trouble. He wondered if Barakiel was feeling alright; she hadn’t been the same since her initiation. He wondered how Orobas was adjusting to life in a large city. He wondered if Heru was happy that he hadn’t come into town with them, or if she even spared him a thought.

His grip on the pillow tightened and he thought of how he was trying, very hard, to bury the hard feelings left between them. It was him that should be holding the grudge, for he felt himself to be the victim of the situation. And yet it was he who was trying to mend the bruise she had left him with.

He knew the saying went as “And this too shall pass.” He was trying his best to believe it.

Will it pass? I’m trying very hard to keep moving. I don’t know what to do to break the wall she built between us.

The fear that perhaps she didn’t want the wall to come down troubled him, and he wished the group would come back. He wanted to hear Barakiel’s insane ravings, to hear Raziel’s soothing words, to see the comforting faces of Orobas and Arariel. He wanted to talk to Heru, because there was a sudden urgency to prove to himself that this damage was repairable.

Rahab hated being alone. Being alone meant having only himself to talk to, and he usually told himself very ugly, painful things.

A Lonely Nightingale

2007-02-10T22:50:30Z

A strange disconnection hung over the druid community, which Rahab learned was called Esseben. A rather oxymoronic name, seeing as it translated to “Without Name.” European custom was spoiling the preservation of druidism. Ereba, Rahab had noticed, was wearing makeup when they met. Initially he proposed to himself that she had worn that solely for her wedding day. But no, she wore this every day. Interesting that while Barakiel couldn’t partake in things as unnatural as videogames, Ereba could wear makeup. What is the point of wearing makeup, anyway? As far as Rahab was concerned, changing the color of parts of your face seemed unnecessary, like hiding behind a mask.

Rahab’s mind then wandered to other things, like why having small holes in your socks was a big deal. No one ever really sees your socks but you; only an idiot would wear open toe shoes with socks, as far as he was concerned. So what if they have an occasional hole? So long as they’re serving their purpose and keeping your feet warm, what should you care? Or odder still: buying little sofa pillows. They’re never very comfortable and no one actually ever uses them. You don’t sit on them; that’s what the cushions already on the couch are for, and they only end up on the floor anyway.

Humans, Rahab concluded (and elves too, for that matter) just have their meaningless societal rules and customs that they must be allowed.

These customs are even more pointless than humanity itself. Maybe pointless is a bad word. But honestly, everyone wants so badly to know what they’re here for that they create lifestyles based on explaining and discovering that reason for being. Rahab discerned that people are here in order to find out why they’re here, and that’s why they haven’t figured it out yet. If they would stop wondering and wasting their time, maybe they could get something useful accomplished, like spending their money on things that aren’t makeup or couch pillows.

“Rahab, did you say you had been riding your Vespa on the way up to us?” Arariel asked, interrupting Rahab’s wandering thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“What made you decide to ride Orobas instead?”

“I accidentally crashed the Vespa.”

“Oh.” She came and sat by him on the bed. “Was it that yellow one you had before?”

“Yep, same one.”

“Why’d you decide to get a yellow one?”

“My, but you are an inquisitive girl!” He hooked her around the shoulders with his arm and drew her in, ruffling her hair playfully. Today, she wore a lacy, off-white tunic over a red satin dress with a hem that skimmed just past her knees.

“You always look so cute, Arariel. Like a doll, except you don’t give me nightmares.” He tapped the tip of her nose in a way that would suggest that perhaps she was a rabbit.

“Oh.” Arariel said in a diminutive voice. She was unsure whether or not she should laugh.

“Well, when I told my friend Caym I was going to buy a Vespa, he told me that there was no point in buying a Vespa if it wasn’t yellow.”

“…Oh.” This explanation didn’t help Arariel very much, but she supposed if that was reason enough for Rahab, then it was reason enough. “There’s nothing wrong with yellow, I suppose. I was just asking. I always thought if you were going to get something in a bright color, you would get red or green…since you seem to like those a lot.”

“Yeah. Dark brown is actually my favorite color, but that wouldn’t make a very interesting Vespa.”

“I suppose not.”

Rahab turned his head to the window. “I wonder how Barakiel’s ritual is going…”

Barakiel stood robed, standing in a circle with other robed people looking completely indistinguishable. Nothing was too surprising or unexpected until Barakiel heard some mention of a sacrifice. Had they said sacrifice, just now? It was, after all, spoken in druidic, and Barakiel was only beginning to understand the language’s intricacies. But she was almost certain that she caught the word sacrifice, and became nauseous with fear. Sacrifice? Sacrifice what, exactly? She stopped to clear her head, for this may have been an assumption made in haste. Sacrifice didn’t automatically mean someone was going to die. But as Barakiel saw another robed and hooded figure being walked to the dolmen, beads of sweat formed on her cloaked face. This persons hands were bound by rope, though she didn’t struggle to break free, and walked entirely of her own will. Barakiel’s eyes widened as the girl was led to a roaring, leaping fire that beckoned to be fed. The two that led the girl to the fire proceeded to tie her to a pole so that she would remain firmly in one place once they had speared the pole’s pointed end into the ground. Every muscle in Barakiel’s legs tightened nervously, and as they rose her into the air to be placed in the fire, she sprinted forward out of some internal compulsion.

She lurched forward, only to spring back at the pull of her wrist by The Adabeleg.

Her stomach turned and she opened her mouth, about to protest loudly, when she was silenced by yet another internal drive. She instead looked at The Adabeleg, waiting for an explanation. He gave none.

“This wasn’t mentioned in the explanation you gave me!” She continued to attempt to wriggle free, realizing that his hand was a Chinese finger trap, only getting tighter on her wrist as she struggled against him. So instead she yielded and backed into her place in the circle, and The Adabeleg loosened his hold on her.

“Don’t interfere; this was a voluntary sacrifice.”

Barakiel couldn’t quite wrap her mind around anyone who would volunteer themselves as a sacrifice, but she remained quiet for the remainder of the ceremony. The smell of burning flesh caught in her throat, and she swallowed it bitterly, trying not to gag. Not once did the girl scream, and Barakiel was not sure of how to feel about this. While screaming would have made this experience that much more unbearable, it seemed frightening and unnatural that the woman would not scream as she was burned alive. Barakiel couldn’t imagine a more painful way to die, and whoever this woman was, hers was a strong will indeed.

Countless times Barakiel had wanted, almost needed, to turn her head away. But she felt that watching this procedure must have been something significant to the overall initiation, and henceforth, her eyes remained painfully fixed on the flames. Though no one could see it, her face greened behind its masking, horrified and permanently damaged by the sight of flesh blackening and falling off the bone. Her own eyes burned from the smell and the smoke and the sight.

At the guesthouse, Rahab and Raziel had set up a small congratulatory table for Barakiel: Raziel bought fresh coffee beans and ground them and brewed them, filling the house with a calming coffee smell. Barakiel would be very surprised to know that Rahab actually cooked something, and for her no less. Rahab was a good cook, if you could convince him to actually make the effort. Also waiting for her on the table (to Raziel’s dislike) was a bowl of fine imported cigars Rahab had been saving.

Barakiel rushed into the house, slamming the door loudly behind her. Sitting at the table was a propped-up note reading “Congrats, You’re A Druid!” and Barakiel knew it instantly to be the handwriting of her brothers. She sat down and immediately lit one of the cigars, trying to calm her nerves and ease her stomach. Rahab and Raziel both knew that she absolutely did not like parties where she is the center of attention. In spite of her favorite food sitting at the table (fish and chips), she could not bring herself to eat. She sipped at the steaming cup of coffee, recognizing it as being genuinely fresh. Odd as they were, the two boys were good brothers.

Raziel and Rahab found Barakiel at the table. “How was the ceremony?” Raziel asked, noting Barakiel’s shaken demeanor.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A flicker of concern passed her brothers’ faces. “Did something go wrong?”

“No,” she shook her head, her voice filled with heaviness. “Everything went on exactly as it was supposed to. I’m a druid, and it’s all settled. We can shove off tomorrow.”

The next day, as the party packed to leave again, Rahab saw The Adabeleg wiping dirt from his hands and decided to approach him.

“Adabeleg!” He waved him down. “Did the ceremony go alright yesterday? For Barakiel, I mean.”

“Yes, didn’t she tell you?” he asked innocently.

“She seemed ill when she got home, and she refused to eat.”

The Adabeleg’s lips tightened, and Rahab looked down at the soiled cloth in The Adabeleg’s hands.

“Were you digging or something?”

“Oh, this?” The Adabeleg smiled sadly. “I had to perform a burial just now.”

“Oh?” Rahab raised his eyebrows. “Someone in Esseben passed away?”

“I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”

“Who was it, if I may ask?”

“Her name was Ereba Fir, born Ereba Dúlin. She was a very dedicated follower of druidism.”

Rahab’s jaw slackened. “Ereba died? When?”

“Just yesterday,” The Adabeleg said in a very final tone, and Rahab knew there would be no more discussion on the matter. “Today you’ll be leaving?”

“Yes,” Rahab answered, preoccupied with the shock of having seen Ereba on the same day that she died.

“Mr. Nephilim, I must say that it has been a delight having your party in Esseben.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rahab shook The Adabeleg’s hand; he wish he could have said the same about Esseben.

Ereba Fir…lonely mortal. Born Ereba Dúlin, lonely nightingale.

Rahab gave an exhale heavy with lament. He had a good idea of what had become of Ereba, and he knew that druids were not supposed to be this way.

Lonely Nightingale.

All of these people…I wonder what will become of druids, and of people.

No One

2007-02-10T22:46:24Z

One by one, the party left the carriage. Upon his feet touching the ground, Rahab saw a happy couple walking hand-in-hand down the main path that stretched along the houses. They were dressed in animal pelts and decorated with feathers. What Rahab found curious, however, was that they were walking out of what he deemed to be stone slabs precariously stacked atop each other to form a sort of squared arch. He watched the couple pensively, snapping back to reality at Orobas’ uneasy stamps and whickers. She shifted into her human shape, knowing that, to a druid, this would be a normal occurrence.

Not knowing where to go, Rahab lead the group up to the peculiar arches. “Excuse me,” he called to a girl--the same girl, in fact, that had been walking with a man only moments ago--who was nudging at the uncooked white rice that was scattered on the ground with her foot. She looked up at Rahab, out from the long auburn hair that fell into her light brown eyes. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, Rahab had figured.

“Yes?” she said shyly, refusing to look directly at Rahab or his friends.

“My name’s Rahab,” he smiled good-naturedly, holding out his hand.

“I’m Ereba,” she took his hand gingerly and shook it lightly. “What brings you travelers here?”

“We were passing through, and my sister Barakiel was hoping to find a druid to learn under.”

Ereba folded her hands in front of her and looked down at the ground. “Well, The Adabeleg will probably be able to help you,” and with that she made a hasty leave, her feet padding lightly against the ground.

“Hey, did you just get married?” Rahab called after her.

Ereba stopped abruptly and turned her head ever so slightly. “Yes.”

“Congratulations!” he called again, and caught the faintest smile from her rather sickly pale face before she continued on her hurried way.

“Good luck is more like it,” Barakiel said with a roll of her eyes.

“Barakiel!” Rahab turned on her, “Shut up!”

“I’m just saying…probably a bad life choice.”

“That’s none of your business.” He turned and looked around. “She didn’t happen to mention where to find this Adabeleg.”

He found Orobas darting her eyes, turning her head, shifting uneasily. He nudged his shoulder against hers and asked “What’s got you so uneasy?” in a hushed tone.

Orobas’ eyes followed the people who walked through the village. “This doesn’t feel like other druid communities. I’m getting a bad feeling from this place; it’s no better than where we just came from.”

“A bad feeling,” Rahab rubbed his neck out of nervous habit.

“It’s not like the demon town. I don’t feel like we’re not welcome. It’s more like…the people here…have a hollow feeling about them. Not like a druid should. I think they are falling out of touch with their ancestors. Losing the druid spirit.”

“She’s right,” Barakiel couldn’t help but pick up Orobas’ ill-at-ease words. “These people may be pure elves, but they certainly aren’t pure druids.”

“You’re saying they’re corrupt?” Rahab tried to keep the discussion quiet, so as not to draw attention or worry the rest of the party.

“Not corrupt, just…distant.”

“That’s a shrewd observation.”

The three turned in shock, for an elderly man’s voice had suddenly entered their conversation. While he was dressed just like the rest of the village, he carried with him a walking stick adorned with bones, feathers, and crystals, as well as an air of authority. Surely, this man was The Adabeleg that they sought.

He approached Barakiel carefully. “You have the ability to read auras?”

Barakiel looked at him incredulously. “Do what?”

He smiled in a very calming manner; perhaps Barakiel could read auras. She picked up on the nature of those she met before she even spoke to them, and her sense of judgment in this respect was astoundingly in tune. “I’m hear to pursue druidism.”

“You mean, you wish to be a druid?”

“Yes.” Barakiel nodded.

The Adabeleg smiled again. “Follow me.”

“So, why are these people so out of touch?” Barakiel asked The Adabeleg as they sat in his home. On the outside, it was no different than any of the other houses. On the inside, there were paintings and small clay figures of Celtic gods such as Epona and Morrigan strewn about the house. Scrolls and other writings hung on the walls, and an incense cone burned at the table.

“Roman Catholic influence is largely to blame,” The Adabeleg folded his hands in front of him, his dark eyes burning into Barakiel’s pale ones. “Since the invasion, it is very rare to see a pure druid community. Ours is one of the most well-preserved you will find. But beyond Catholicism, I suppose the biggest culprit is cultural and societal evolution. Put simply, times change. More importantly,” he leaned forward slightly, “you have come to learn the ways of the druid. This is a weighty commitment to take on, so you must earnestly wish it.”

Barakiel’s face hardened in thought. Do I wish it? Really? I mean, this is what I want, right?

“You must have no doubt.”

She thought of the demon, the storm, the fire in the grass. Finally, she nodded solemnly. “Yes. This is what I absolutely want.”

The Adabeleg met her with a smile once again.

A week had passed, and already Barakiel was beginning to lose her mind. Druidism had meant she could only wear certain things and partake in certain things. Her Gameboy was excluded.

“I think I’m gonna break out in a rash.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Barakiel, it’s not all bad.” Raziel said.

“Yes it is! I can’t play old school Nintendo, and I’m starting to hallucinate because of it!”

“It’s only until this demon is gone.”

“Well, who knows how long that will take! It’s already been over two months! Why did I have to be next? I’ll bet Heru doesn’t have to do anything this drastic, why couldn’t it have been her?”

“Because it was you, alright?!” Rahab snapped, causing an abrupt silence. “I’m sick of the fucking noise; aren’t druids supposed to be peaceful?”

Barakiel bit her tongue and stared at the wall for the duration of the night.

“This is it.” Barakiel said with anticipation. “I’ve learned the rituals and the chants! Tomorrow night’s my ceremony and I’ll be accepted into the druid community!”

“Of course, that doesn’t mean you won’t have to continue the practice,” Raziel said from the corner of the room. The Adabeleg had kindly allowed them a guest house for their stay.

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“Tomorrow’s your ceremony? That’s Halloween. Isn’t that something special for druids?”

“Yeah, but they know it as Samhain. I guess it’s like their new year. It starts in the evening, and there’s a ceremony to ward off spirits said to walk the earth that night. They also have this bonfire thing to honor their deities.”

“Heru, isn’t your birthday on Halloween?” Arariel asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

Rahab’s ears perked. That’s right. It is. It’s on October 31st, in the evening.

“We should do something to celebrate that!” Arariel smiled.

And if the people here find that out…

“No.” Rahab said shortly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think it would be better to wait.”

“What’s the big deal, Rahab?”

“I just don’t think this is a safe area.”

“Rahab, you don’t think anywhere is a safe area,” Barakiel laughed. “Well, I’m gonna get some shuteye, in any case. Tomorrow’s a big day for me.”

“Do we get to come and watch that?” Raziel asked.

“Actually, it’s something I’m supposed to go to alone, for some reason. No spectators allowed.” She shrugged. “Well, goodnight, all!”

What You Are... Really

2007-02-10T22:39:34Z

“Rahab, do you know… that just matching our hands through the glass…or just seeing you’re reflection in the rear-view mirror distorted by clouds… or finding you at the other end of the cemetery, when I thought I was walking alone… do you know… what that’s like…?”

“Heru, if you have something to say, then just say it. I can’t decipher your riddle-talk.”

I remember your face so clearly today… It was like all of your life and color was stolen. I remember you lying there, on my stomach, just smiling.

“I guess I don’t really have anything to say.”

I remember singing.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night…
Take these broken wings, and learn to fly.
All your life…
You were only waiting for this moment to arrive.”

I remember singing that to you every night. I remember…

“Take these sunken eyes, and learn to see.”

I remember, you were my little blackbird.

“Rahab… Rahab… Rahab, wake up…”

“Rahab, wake up.”

Rahab jerked from his heavy sleep, gasping lightly.

“I think you were sleep-humming.” Arariel poked at him. She looked down at him, following the shadows on his face, pushing at his mussed hairline.

“Blackbird,” he whispered inaudibly.

“What?”

His eyes rolled in his head, resting wistfully on a fire that cracked cheerfully from the hearth.

“Good morning,” he ran his fingers down her fine white hair. “Here comes the sun,” he noted, as the sun glared through the window at him, and he hid his eyes in the crook of his arm.

Wine-induced dreaming.

This time Rahab sat in the cab as Heruseki napped on his lap. He subconsciously scratched behind her ear, his eyes forward, unfocused.

Barakiel stepped back to visit them. “Aaw, she’s so cute when she’s not tearing things up.”

“Huh?” Rahab said stupidly, then realizing what she had said. “Oh. Yeah.”

He had been sliding his thumb along the tin tube he was holding, and Barakiel tried not to let him know she remembered it. Barakiel set her hands on the knees of her black pants as she sat cross-legged beside him, looking instead at the trunks holding everyone’s things.

Rahab’s lips tightened with his grip on the tube, and his eyes carefully made their way to it. His thumbnail teased the leather cap, daring to open it.

Could I…?

Yes. You could do it and she would be ready. She could see. But don’t let her wake up.

Rahab’s heart lurched as he traced the thin black line that reached from the corner of Heruseki’s eye to the sharp angle of her jaw. His eyes then turned cold on Heruseki, and Barakiel heard the faintest words, “Do you want to see?”

Barakiel jerked her head to Rahab, wondering what exactly he meant by that.

“This,” he held the tube up, “Do you want to see?”

Her face softened and she nodded, mesmerized by the very plain tube. He popped off the leather lid with his thumb, and the tube hissed like a carbonated liquid being released from a tightly sealed container. He took out not a liquid, but a weathered, nearly translucent sheet of parchment. It unrolled to reveal lines upon lines of Elven writing in several different colors. Barakiel’s eyes scanned it, taking it in, fear reflecting in the watery green of her eyes.

“It’s Poe. It’s all Poe. These are all excerpts from his works. Why were you keeping this a secret?”

Barakiel saw his Adam’s apple move and knew something was very wrong.

“The Speak With gave this to me.” Barakiel saw his hand make for his hip, and then decide against it.

“This first line…this green one, here…this is what Oro burnt into the ground.” Her eyes began to study the paper, and Rahab pulled it back.

“I wasn’t done looking!”

“I think that’s enough.” Rahab rolled the paper back into the tube and fastened the lid.

“Why did she give that to you?”

“It’s a bit of a… schedule, or a timeline. I think the less you see, the better.” He cringed as a burning sensation shot up his right hip.

“Is it supposed to schedule our trip?”

“Sort of--”

That’s enough. It’s almost her time and that’s why she can see it. You know who’s next, right?

A sinister laugh echoed through the chasms of Rahab’s mind.

I never meant for this. All I wanted… All I ever wanted…

“That’s quite the attire!” Orobas commented, taking in the black and white silk and satin robes Raziel wore, accented by the occasional red.

“I can’t believe it’s already been two months since we left home,” Raziel reminisced. “And I’m still technically ‘in training.’ Ah well, at least we didn’t have to stay at the temple for me to become a full-fledged cleric…whatever that means.”

“Raziel, you have the party college of deities,” Heruseki commented conclusively.

He laughed. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, a very sober, serious deity of war or something would be like Yale University, and the God of Luck and Chaos is pretty much the Party-Time God.”

“Or the God of Pimpdom,” Barakiel added.

“Hey, are you gonna let them talk that way about your deity, Raziel?” Rahab called from the front.

“Where are we headed to next?” Arariel asked. “Raziel’s class practically took licensing; is everyone else’s going to be that hard?”

“Hell no, I mean, look at you! Seeing you back in that demon town, I’d say you’ve pwned this bard thing,” Barakiel answered.

Arariel and Rahab both looked at Barakiel. “Poned?” they asked in unison.

“…Never mind. I forgot you two weren’t computer savvy.”

“I think,” Rahab went on, pretending she hadn’t spoken, “that the next village to the northeast will have a druid community. It’s in a better area than that… Sälvinjasdéilek place. I wonder what that’s supposed to mean, anyway.”

“It means Hell’s Bells,” Heruseki said.

“It takes all of that to say Hell’s Bells?” Barakiel said disbelievingly.

“ ‘Sälvin’ translates to ‘hell,’ ‘déi’ translates to ‘bell,’ ‘lek’ makes it plural, and ‘jas’ is a possessive particle. Sälvinjasdéilek. Hell’s Bells.”

“Curious name for a town,” Rahab breathed.

The village they approached was lined with small wooden houses and not much else. It was surrounded by lush green plant life, with several forms of ivy growing up the sides of the humble houses. Orobas reared and screeched at the sight of an enormous wolf padding casually across their path.

“Putta, gwen!” Rahab pleaded. Someone called to the wolf, and he ran off the path as the carriage sped by.

They screeched to a stop, the entire party panting from panic.

“Well,” Rahab breathed, holding his heart, “I think that went very nicely.”

The Laughing God

2007-02-10T22:30:43Z

Heruseki groaned loudly, tossing back and forth on the bed.

“Shut up, you’re not going outside,” Rahab snapped. “I don’t want you getting hurt again. The people here are obviously screwed up.”

Heruseki proceeded to meow in a melancholy fashion. “But I’ll go mad if I can’t go outside!” she whimpered.

“Go mad…?” Rahab muttered through his teeth, and Heruseki kicked him behind the knee, causing him to fall backwards onto her shins. “Don’t worry; we’ll be out of this nightmare land soon enough.”

And Rahab was fairly certain of this. They had, after all, been there for nearly a month now, and their collective savings would soon be enough to sustain a voyage.

Heruseki’s mismatched eyes grazed the dingy ceiling; she watched a tiny spider promenade across it, freezing because it knew that Heruseki knew it was there.

I’ll bet that spider wants out of here, too. The thoughts of freedom danced in Heruseki’s head, in perfect sync with the spider’s dance.

“Finally, we’re out of there!” Heruseki fell into a lifeless heap on a haystack in the cab of the carriage.

“You know what, Heru? You didn’t miss much by being cooped up in the room. I had a hell of a time fixing Orobas up for the shows,” Raziel said in an attempt to console Heruseki.

“Oh yeah, you guys did horse shows. But if that was you and Orobas, then what was Rahab bitching about?”

“I made him help me out.”

“I had no idea there was so much fucking work involved in horse shows! There were points where I had to weave ribbons into braids in Orobas’ mane and tail.”

“Yeah, I’ve given up on her name entirely, and just call her Oro,” Barakiel commented, her eyes once again glazed over with the hypnosis of videogames.

Orobas snorted from the front.

“She knows we’re talking about her,” Raziel mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

“Whoa,” Rahab jerked lightly at the reigns. “Orobas, stop sign! Orobas--!” Rahab shouted some Elven gibberish, and Orobas halted to a stop.

“So she gets Elven in horse form, but not English!” Rahab gesticulated wildly with his left hand.

Barakiel blinked at the ludicrous hand gesture Rahab just composed. “So that’s where I picked up those crazy gestures. It’s your fault people think I’m crazy.”

“People have far better reasons for believing you’re crazy, love,” Rahab simpered in his most irritatingly sweet voice.

Rahab flinched and clenched his teeth as Barakiel’s boot slammed into his.

“Ah, sibling love,” Heruseki mused, propping her narrow chin on her palm.

Barakiel scowled and tossed a coin into the back of the cab. Heruseki instantly pounced back to the coin, and they heard her squeal “shiny!” and several small crashes followed.

Rahab pursed his lips, slowly turning his head to his sister. “Barakiel, what did we establish about playing with the cat in the cab?”

Barakiel’s eyes were downcast. “Don’t do it…”

“That’s right,” Rahab said, turning back to the road. “Let’s try to maintain that. It keeps things from breaking.”

“You’re just miffed because she likes me better than you,” Barakiel sniffed.

“Don’t start this,” Rahab warned.

“Fine.” Barakiel feigned a sneeze. “Jealous!”

“Don’t make me turn this carriage around!” he barked.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Oh, where are we now?” Arariel yawned blearily, as she had just woken from an extended nap.

“We’re exactly where we need to be,” Rahab said softly, pulling to a stop. “This is the temple where we’ll get Raziel ordained.”

“Hopefully,” Raziel said, earning a deadpan glare from Rahab.

The temple was large and ornate, embellished with rubies and diamonds and constructed from black marble. Above the main entrance hung the two prominent drama masks that had come to epitomize theatre.

“It doesn’t look very…religious,” commented Barakiel, as they walked down the red carpet that led to an opulent shrine. Bizarre painting decorated the walls, and everything seemed to be dripping with precious metals and stones.

“Hot damn, what kind of god are you praying to, Raziel? The God of Pimpdom?”

“No, Barakiel. It’s actually…the God of Luck and Chaos.”
Rahab whistled shrilly, hooking his thumbs into his pockets as he admired the ceiling that was painted with thieves. He reached out to fiddle with a rather intricate gadget when he was hissed at by what must have been a priest. A rather unorthodox, clad-in-black priest wearing a white porcelain mask.

Rahab’s fingers quickly recoiled and shoved themselves into his pocket. “Ah, good. Someone who works here. We’re here to ask about ordainment.”

The priest was probably staring through the mask.

“My brother’s a fan of your god.” He playfully punched Raziel in the shoulder to indicate who he was referring to, causing Raziel to stumbled slightly.

“A fan…?” the man’s voice carried suspicion.

“Rahab,” Raziel hissed at his brother, “you obviously know nothing about religion, so maybe you should step back and let me handle this.” He stepped forward to address the masked man. “I’m sorry, my brother’s rather religiously ignorant. So you’ll have to excuse his ineloquent comments.”

Rahab shifted his weight to his right leg, burying his face in his high collar so that he resembled a rather shifty, brooding turtle. He sauntered around the room, admiring its beauties, earning further distrust from the masked priest.

“I humbly…very humbly,” Raziel dropped to his knees, “ask to be taken in as a cleric under the God of Luck and Chaos.”

The masked priest stared contemplatively at Raziel, analyzing him. “Very well,” he said finally. “If you believe you have the dedication to serve our God, then He will take you in.”

“How did I let you talk me into this?!” Raziel threw down a heap of ceremonial robes in front of Rahab. “I’m working my ass off for this!”

“Raziel, if you’ll look back, you will remember that I was very clear that I in fact did not want you to go.”

Raziel raised his eyebrow in thought. “Oh yeah. Damn.”

“And is this any way to care for your ceremonial robes?” Rahab teased. “Shouldn’t they be ceremoniously folded?”

“I don’t wanna hear it right now,” he subsided onto the nearest sofa.

“Well, look at it this way. Our lodgings are both gorgeous and free,” he propped his feet on a white marble coffee table, reclining on the sofa.

“You’re all ruddy moochers,” Raziel growled. “I hope the rest of you suffer miserable training to get into your positions, too! And as for Rahab…well, I’ll think of something horrible to wish upon you later.”

“Damn, love goes around this group full-circle,” Heruseki said with a thoroughly sarcastic tone.

“Heru, shut up. Raziel, you’re almost there. This is a team effort. Which means everyone is going to suffer miserably and hate their life at some point on this trip. So don’t worry,” he smiled, this time without teasing or sarcasm. “You’re almost there…and then we’ll have to leave this amazing palace of a suite. So,” he pulled out a bottle of red wine, “I say we party while we can.”

Grudges

2007-02-10T22:24:22Z

“Barakiel, there you are! You guys just sort of ran off, and I wasn’t sure about how we were going to meet up again.”

Barakiel’s face was yet again hiding behind a game. “I found a job at a cobbling shop, believe it or not. What about you? Any luck…” she smiled slowly, edging away from Rahab, “selling yourself?”

“Selling myself?! At least I’m not a shoe elf!”

“Shoe elf--!”

“No, okay? This town doesn’t have any wilderness to it, so it doesn’t need a ranger.”

It was true: the town was small and quiet, and it was mostly secluded from creatures that would need taking care of. It was a dusty, out-of-the-way sort of place that no one would go out of their way to see or find. But the roads that led them there were back roads that lacked traffic, and they seemed to be making better time for it. It was dusty, and very run down, with a few scattered buildings: a post office, a blacksmith, an armor smith, a locksmith, a small library, an inn, two tailor shops, a weapon smith, a pub, and a few small outdoor markets. Unlike most small towns, there was not a church in site.

“So I took up a job at a leather shop. The owner wants me to do stitch work and things like that. I think I only got the job because he wanted someone with my fingers…?”

“Ah…people around here are a tad…off.”

The citizens were not the friendliest of people. They were not elves, and they weren’t human. And certainly, they were too tall to be halflings or gnomes. They all had long strides and slit pupils like Heruseki, yet none of them had the other cat features that she possessed. They had the harsh, discriminating expressions of devoted traditionalists, yet the town gave no clue as to what religion they might possibly be.

Rahab flipped out his cellular phone from his belt clip.

“You spoiled little shit. Where’d you get that phone?”

“Gift from Dad. You know how he likes to buy forgiveness and whatnot.”

“And you accept it?”

“Well, I’m using the phone, aren’t I?” It was clear to Barakiel that, while he said that, he really hadn’t fully accepted their father, and perhaps he never would.

“Raziel? Where are you? Is Orobas with you? …Okay. Let’s meet at the inn. Okay. Bye Oh, wait--,” and he meant to add “Have you seen Heru?” but Raziel had already hung up.

“Arariel, Raziel, and Orobas are all together, I guess,” Rahab said, returning his cell phone to his belt. “I forgot to ask about Heru.”

“She’s probably napping somewhere, knowing her.”

“Yeah,” Rahab scoffed, “she probably hasn’t even attempted to find a job yet.” In spite of himself, his voice wavered as he lit his cigarette and tried to keep his hands steady.

“Rahab, have you been snorting coke?”

“No, of course not. Why?”

“Oh, I dunno.” She watched him shiver, his eyes bloodshot at the corners, and she just began to notice how sleep deprived he looked today. “You just look like a complete wreck. That’s all.”

A small shiver rushed through Rahab, and without warning he began a hasty tramp to the inn.

“Rahab, what’s got you so shaken? I’m sure Heru is--”

“I just hate this town, that’s all. It gives me a bad feeling.”

But no one knew how much longer it would take to find another town, and money was becoming scarce among the party.

“Heru, what happened to you?!” Arariel was the first to stand when Heruseki finally made her way to the inn.

“Well, I…” Her face wore dried blood, and her arms were bruised with handprints. Barakiel and Raziel ran to her as well, and Orobas followed behind. “I was mugged. Lucky for us, I wasn’t carrying any money.”

“Jesus, are you still bleeding, Heru?” Barakiel inspected her face, checking for cuts and scrapes.

Rahab watched from his place in a chair as the four of them cleaned Heruseki up, setting her down on a bed. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, drumming his fingers on the table. His face was numb and he was silent, save for the occasional hard swallow that only he heard anyway. His fingers subconsciously clenched and unclenched themselves from a fist, and he bounced his knee on the balls of his feet nervously, watching the group through the dim lighting as they attempted to get a story from Heruseki.

“I was just mugged, there was nothing special about it. I didn’t have any money, so they just roughed me up and left me. There’s not much else to tell.”

“But how many people were there? What did they look like?”

“Why does it matter?” Heruseki asked weakly. “Have you seen a police station around here? Because I haven’t. These people probably don’t have any form of higher authority to answer to.”

“Then one would think,” Arariel began cautiously, “that they would have just left you for dead. I wonder why they stopped.”

“Well,” Heruseki racked her brain to remember, “I saw this brief little flash of light from the corner of my eye, and then they all stopped and left. It was like whatever that was scared them off.”

The loud scraping of a chair against the floor grabbed everyone’s attention, and Rahab hastily made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Orobas asked, a touch perturbed.

“Out,” he said curtly.

Orobas sighed through her nose and moved after him.

The rest of the group exchanged looks of discomfort, continuing awkwardly with their business.

Rahab turned and realized he was being followed. He inhaled sharply and waited for her to say something.

“What’s your problem?!” she gave him a mild shove.

“What’s my problem?” he raised an eyebrow. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What issue do you guys have with each other? Because whatever it is, the two of you need to grow up for the sake of this trip and put it away for a while.”

Rahab pushed his hands deep into his front cloak pockets, and Orobas watched his thin lips begin to form words, only to have his voice choke him. Now, he decided, was not the time for childish words like “Well, she started it!” He looked down at the damp ground, watching a pill bug crawl past his boots. “You’re right,” he turned his collar up to hide the ashamed expression he wore. “I won’t let this get me…anymore.” His voice was soft and hollow, and as he turned to leave, a small suede drawstring bag tumbled from his turned-out pocket. Orobas reached down and opened the bag, finding a chunk of dark, braided hair and a crumpled piece of paper. She worked to smooth it out. As it began to become something recognizable, she felt it snatched from her hands and looked up to find Rahab’s mostly hidden face murmur a timid “Thank you” before turning away from her. Orobas tried to see past his collar, wondering whether his face was flushed, or if that was light reflecting off of his red collar.

Orobas and Rahab reentered the inn room, where they were met with uneasy looks from the rest of their party. There were no apparent signs of a fight, and the atmosphere became that much lighter.

Rahab threw his cloak down and proceeded to shed.

“…What are you doing?” Barakiel inched away from Rahab.

“Making myself at home.” He gave Barakiel a slight roll of the eyes. “You and Raziel should both be used to it, and Orobas is a horse. Most of the time, she doesn’t even need pants. And Heru and Arariel can just deal with it.”

Arariel opened the bathroom door, took a look at Rahab (who now sat comfortably on his bed in under-shorts), and shut the door again, eyes wide and lips tight.

A cackle escaped Barakiel. “Yeah, she’s already adjusted!”

Rahab jumped up and knocked at the bathroom door. “Arariel,” he breathed through a fit of giggles, “Arariel, I’m sorry--”

“I didn’t know you weren’t decent! I’m sorry,” she said through the door.

Barakiel shouted from the bed, “Rahab’s just generally indecent, and you’ll have to get used to it.”

“Shhhut up!” Rahab’s laughter bubbled over, as Arariel’s shocked expression inscribed itself in his mind. “Arariel, if you’re that uncomfortable--”

The door slowly opened, and Arariel’s shy face peeked out. “It’s not a big deal; I just thought I had caught you changing or something.”

A disgruntled Heruseki walked in, paying no mind to Rahab’s attire (or near-lack-thereof). “No vending machines. This town could use some serious updates.”

Rahab played at the white tassels adorning a lampshade, wincing at fingertips skimming his inner thigh.

“Where did all these bandages come from?”

Rahab jumped back at Heruseki’s voice. “Um,” he stuttered, “slight chafing from taking Orobas up to see you guys.”

“Slight, huh?” she tugged at the bandages, her eyes widening at the state of the abrasion. “Have you put anything on it?”

“Yes,” he said edgily, then remembering the reprimand he’d just been given. “But…” the words seemed to catch fire in his mouth, “Thanks for asking.” He looked over to Orobas, who gave him a pushing gaze, as if to say “Go ahead. Be nice.” But this was enough for him. He stood up, causing Heruseki to fall backwards (as she had been crouching at his thigh), turned and then stopped.

“Sorry,” he pulled her roughly to her feet by her hand, and she struggled to regain balance. It was only then that Rahab realized she was nearly as tall as he was. Their meeting eyes left both of them with a bad taste in their mouths, and they quickly broke contact.

“I really, really want to get out of this godforsaken town.”

Deities

2007-02-10T03:23:03Z

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Raziel motioned for Rahab to slow his explanation down. “I can’t be an ordained priest. I don’t have any religious training or background! I didn’t think coming on this trip would require committing myself to a new lifestyle.”

“Raziel,” Rahab began, “this is what you’re born to do. Trust me.”

An uncertain fear reflected in Raziel’s eyes. “Rahab, I don’t know…”

“Raziel, who do you pray to?”

More confusion.

“When you find yourself in trouble, what do you look to?”

“I…” Raziel trailed off. There was silence again.

“Whatever that is, that’s what a cleric draws power from. That’s why it’s essential for you to have some form of religious faith. Without it, you can’t cast spells.”

“Okay, you’re hitting me with way too much at once! Praying, faith, spells-- I can’t handle this.”

“We’re going to need magic to kill this demon?” Arariel asked.
“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt. And if Raziel’s going to contribute to our effort, he needs to be able to meditate for probably an hour or so a day.”

“Rahab, I’m not even licensed to do this.”

“Then we’ll go to a temple and get you ordained.”

Raziel sighed, blatantly disgusted. “This seems like a lot of work to kill one demon.”

“It’s going to take every one of us to bring this demon down,” Barakiel said, lighting up a cigarette.

“Pass me one of those.” Barakiel tossed a pack of Marlboros and a Zippo lighter at Rahab. “So what makes you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Barakiel shrugged. “Just a gut feeling. But I bet anything I’m right.”

“So where do we go to get me ordained?”

“We have to go to your deity’s temple.”

“Well…” Raziel hesitated.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have one.”

“I have one, but the temple… Well, it‘s down in South Territory.”

“Where I just came from? Just today?”

“…Yeah…”

“Just kill me,” Raziel said, an empty bottle of Jägermeíster slipping from his fingers and thunking on the floor. Rahab clutched an empty can of ROCKST«R® Juiced™ to his chest.

“Ra…Raziel,” Rahab moaned, his mouth hanging open lethargically, “Drinking… is bad,” he sat up slowly and with great difficulty, holding his stomach. He breathed heavily and in short bursts, leaning over the inn’s balcony. He squeezed the bar of the balcony fence and vomited loudly over the edge.

“Rahab, that’s disgusting,” Raziel slurred, as he proceeded to throw up.

Heruseki laid down on one of the beds in the room, making a futile attempt to sleep. “Fine way to start your new callings, boys. Raziel, aren’t you supposed to be a holy man now?”

“Not yet I’m not, dammit,” he stuttered between spells.

“You better not get any on some unsuspecting passerby, or we’re gonna get our asses hauled out of here,” Barakiel grumbled, pulling her hat over her face. “Shut the door, at least! No one wants to hear you two.”

“I think I’m done,” Rahab said, then doubling over again. “Okay, now I’m done.” He stumbled back inside, holding his sides.

“Do you need some help, Rahab?” Arariel asked, standing up.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” Rahab swung his arm lazily, making his way to the bathroom. Raziel followed him, and the two struggled drunkenly to clean up.

Heruseki stood up and pushed Rahab onto the toilet, then forcing Raziel into a sitting position on the bathtub’s edge. She moistened a washcloth and cleaned off their faces. “You two are going to have hangovers up the ass tomorrow.”

Rahab burst into a giggling fit and Raziel mumbled unintelligibly.

“Would everyone please shut up, I’m trying to sleep,” Orobas groaned loudly through her pillow.

“Oh, sorry,” Rahab said, catching his breath. He threw an arm over Heruseki’s shoulder and brought his mouth up to her ear. “How would you wear glasses, Heru? Your ears aren’t in the right spot.”

“Thankfully, I don’t need glasses.” She hoisted him up, dragging him to a bed. “Let’s get you settled in for the night. Ara, could you help Raziel into bed?”

“Um, sure.”

“If we have to go all the way to Elf Territory before we can go east, shouldn’t we pick up another horse or two…?” Orobas stopped, the gear she was carrying collapsing around her.

“Well, I guess that’s true, but… horses aren’t cheap. And if everyone’s going to need one, and you’re carrying our heavier gear, then we’ll need five. That’s a lot of bread, I’m afraid. Not to mention we’ll need bridles, bits, and saddles. That’ll run us over 90 stak, not including feed and stabling. How much stak do we have between us?”

Everyone tossed in their gold, excluding the penniless Orobas.

“60. Short, just as I expected. This will buy us about three horses, minus gear. And even then, we wouldn’t have any money for food or lodging. Tell you what. Let‘s get a carriage instead. We‘ll only need to buy one horse, it‘ll be half the price of five horses even with gear, and then Orobas won‘t have to bear our load all by herself.”

Rahab sat at a driver’s seat of a brand new carriage, “We really should think about weapons. I’m covered, as far as that goes.”

“Oh, so that’s your bow back there?” Arariel asked, sticking her head out from the cab. “It’s really nice.”

“Thanks…” Rahab said, eyes on the road. “The only bow I‘ve ever had. I‘ve had it modded to give it a stronger pull so I can get more distance. Even so, I‘d like to upgrade to a longer bow when I get the money.”

“How much are longbows?”

“Starting price is 10 stak for a composite.”

Arariel stared off into space. “Rahab, what sort of weapon should I use?”

“I’m thinking a short sword for you. A long sword would be to unwieldy for your size.”

A loud crash resounded from inside the cab.

“Oh God, what now?” Rahab stopped the carriage, peeking into the cab.

He found Heruseki lying on her back, arms outstretched, a silver ribbon grasped tightly in her fists and partially in her teeth. Barakiel was kneeling next to her, the other end of the ribbon in her hand.

“Um… I can explain.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet you can,” Rahab sneered, jerking the ribbon from both of them. “No playing with the cat in the carriage, Barakiel. New house rule.”

Barakiel groaned lowly with disappointment. “How will I sustain my shred of sanity now?”

“We’ll be to a weapons shop before you know it.”

“How do we know what weapons to buy?”

“We’ll get weapons suitable for your individual classes, of course.”

“And I suppose you know what those are?”

“Not really, but I’m sure the shopkeeper knows.”

“Ten stak for a hand crossbow?!” Rahab protested to the shopkeeper.

“Hand crossbows are exotic weapons, kid. Exotic crossbows don’t come cheap. This is the best deal you’re gonna get anywhere you go.”

“Fine,” Rahab said with disgust, throwing his stak onto the counter.

“And you’re gonna want bolts for this, I’m guessing.”

“What’s that going to cost me?”

“One kaard for ten bolts.”

“Fine.”

“So who else you got here? A fighter and a cleric, was it?”

“Yeah, and seeing as I’ve already spent a fortune here, I’d like to find a good deal.”

“Well, clerics usually use the favored weapon of their deity.”

“That would be the rapier,” Raziel said quietly.

“Rapiers are two stak. And as for your fighter, I got a great sword, good size and very reliable-- just five stak. Trust me, it’s a great investment.”

Rahab hesitated. “I suppose…”

The party left the weaponry shop, Rahab carrying a far lighter moneybag.

“That leaves us with eleven stak and eight kaards. Guys, this isn’t going to take us too far. We need to make some money.”

“Did you have something particular in mind?” Heruseki asked.

“Well, I could see if anyone in this town requires my services, I guess. I’m already ‘officially’ a ranger. I don’t know how you guys expect to make money, though; I suppose if we take up temporary residency in this town, we could get jobs and make some more stak.”

“Oh God, get a job…. There’s a lot more commitment in this trip than you let on, Rahab,” Heruseki groaned.

“I told you not to come, but of course you didn’t listen. You never listen--”

“Guys, let’s not argue about this right now,” Raziel said, standing between the dysfunctional pair. “We all need to look around and see what sort of work we can find in this town.”

“What is this town, anyway?” Orobas asked, looking around for a city limit sign.

“It’s called Sälvinjasdéilek. It’s some bizarre demonic language…we must be in one of those towns,” Rahab said, raising his eyebrows.

“One of those towns that picks a long-ass name, you mean?” Heruseki snapped in an annoyed tone. “If we’re gonna earn some money, let’s get moving.” Heruseki made a sudden break from the group direction, moving in the opposite direction. “Good luck, you guys,” she called from over her shoulder.

The rest of the party stopped short, turning to watch her leave.

“What the fuck is her problem?” Rahab said loudly, throwing his hands up.

“I don’t know, but I guess she’s right, Rahab. We might as well split up.”

The group branched off, leaving Rahab standing alone, still glaring at Heruseki’s diminishing silhouette.

“Demon girls are so damn moody."

The Speak With

2007-02-10T03:14:18Z

“Great, this is just bloody brilliant!” Rahab repacked his belongings with a scowl. “I only just got here, and already I have to leave again.”

“Not necessarily,” Raziel tried his best to soothe Rahab. “I mean, when did Barakiel become an authority on cryptic message interpretation?”

“Well, she did take AP Lit.”

“So you think that justifies chasing a storm? Because an AP Lit. student told you to? Since when do you believe in this sort of thing, anyway?”

“Raziel,” Rahab turned to his brother, and this was all the communication that was necessary. Raziel fell silent and left the room.

Watching him leave, Rahab gave a disheartened sigh and followed him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” Raziel stuffed a shirt into a sack.

“Raziel--”

“That message could be every bit directed at me as you!”

“But what will you do? This is the sort of thing that I do.”

“What, chase storms and fight demons? When did you become some sort of hero?”

“I’m not a hero, I’m--” he cut himself short. “Never mind. Just don’t follow me.”

“Don’t give me that holier-than-thou attitude! I’m every bit as capable as you are! I’m
going with you, whether you like it or not!” Raziel stood fuming, his arms folded across his chest.

A broad smile crossed Rahab’s face as he threw his arms around his confused twin. “I knew you had some fight in you! Now, hurry up and finish that packing! We’ve got a witch to see.”

“A witch? Rahab, I don’t know--”

“Do you want to come with me or not?” he was already making his way to the door.

“Yes, but--” Raziel called after him. “I don’t see how…” he gave up and returned to
packing his belongings.

“What’s all this noise about?” Heruseki came into Raziel’s room, eyeing the bag on
Raziel’s bed.

“Oh, Barakiel thinks that Naru-- er… Orobas’ message was a prophecy that we need to investigate.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“Rahab and I, I suppose.”

“And me,” Barakiel added, walking in. “I already told Rahab I’m coming.”

“Well, I’m not staying behind.”

“Yes you are,” Rahab joined the conversation. “I don’t need any more people getting involved. If you go, then Arariel will want to go. I don’t need five people coming with me.”

“Don’t you mean four?”

“No, Orobas is coming.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t look at me that way, Heru! You don’t get to go because you’re not a horse. We need someone to carry our things.”

“Well, why do Raziel and Barakiel get to go?”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘blood is thicker than water?’”

“No,” Heruseki said spitefully, crossing her arms.

“Fine!” Rahab snapped, turning on his heel. “Just don’t get in my way.”

“Rahab, what are we doing here? This is an abandoned hospital,” Raziel looked up at the dilapidated old building.

“No, this is an abandoned insane asylum.”

“I’m starting to think you’re insane! Shouldn’t we be heading east, towards the storm?”

“We need to confirm a few things first, Raziel. Now everyone be on your guard. The Speak With is never perfectly honest; she tends to mask the truth, so don’t take anything that she says as facts. And one more thing,” he added, looking back at the group. “Don’t say anything about her height.”

Inside the asylum, they reached a door marked in what was probably spray-paint “SPEAK WITH.” Rahab gave the door four very deliberate knocks, and it swung open before them, revealing a poorly lit room.

“Speak With?” Rahab called to the half-darkness.

“You decided to return,” a disembodied voice rang throughout the room. “Judging by your company, I would say your answer is yes.”

A small figure of roughly five feet moved swiftly towards the group, almost gliding. She was not at all the old hag the group was expecting, or even a shifty-looking woman clad in jewelry made from human bones. She was brash looking, not a day over sixteen in appearance, with short, flaming red hair. Her cheeks bore a light sprinkling of freckles, adding to her youthful appearance, and her eyes were a bright green filled with curiosity. She did not suit the voodoo image the group had for her in the least.

“You’ve brought them here for assigning?” she took Rahab’s nod for confirmation. “Very well. All of you, make a single file line in front of me.”

With hesitance, the group formed a line, beginning with Barakiel. The Speak With matched her hand against Barakiel’s, palm against palm. Her hand was noticeably smaller than Barakiel’s. She closed her eyes, and an energy surged through her, her hair rising slightly, as though a light breeze were passing through the room.

“Green,” she blurted. “You are a druid.”

“What?” Barakiel stared at her open palm, now tingling. “What did you just do?”

“I just read your destiny,” the Speak With said simply.

“My destiny is green?”

“Something like that,” Speak With cocked her head to the side slightly, smiling
mischievously.

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Okay, my turn!” Raziel moved in front of Barakiel, opening his palm.

This time, a soft glow silhouetted their touching hands, and warmth exuded from them.

“Blue. You are a cleric.”

“Is that some kind of priest?”

“Please save questions for the end of the assigning.”

Arariel stepped up, and the space between their hands went cold and clammy.

“Orange. You are to be a bard.”

“Interesting…”

Orobas shuffled her feet, slowly raising her hand for the Speak With. Upon touching Orobas, a bright glow and extreme heat caused the Speak With to draw her hand back quickly, her palm searing with pain.

“Red, without a doubt. That is the color of the fighter.”

Orobas gave the Speak With a puzzled look, moving back to make way for Heruseki, who remained rigidly still by the exit.

“Heru, it’s your turn,” Rahab beckoned to her.

Heruseki gave no acknowledgement of his words. She stood frozen, her eyes fixated on the Speak With.

“Heru,” Rahab moved closer to her, “you wanted to come on this trip. If you’re going to be of any use to this party, you need to let the Speak With read you.”

Heruseki moved with unblinking eyes towards the Speak With, her feet moving with a seeming freedom from the rest of her body. Her hand swung through the air as though it were being pulled by a string. One by one, her fingers unfolded from her palm. The Speak With touched her small, frail fingers to Heruseki’s long, spidery ones. The Speak With’s corresponding shoulder lurched upon impact, jerking back violently as she swung her other hand over to brace it. Her fingers quaked considerably as she visibly struggled to force her palm against Heruseki’s. Heruseki’s eyes widened as fear attempted to exert itself onto her otherwise vacant expression.

The Speak With, however, showed no emotion, save for a determination to “read” Heruseki.

Rahab watched from a distance, his brow furrowing with concern. He knew that it shouldn’t be this difficult. He knew that the Speak With was getting interference, but he didn’t know what could possibly interfere with reading someone’s--

“Black!” the Speak With gasped, allowing her hand to be pushed back by the force that smoldered from Heruseki’s hand. She flexed her fingers, allowing them to regain normal feeling. “This one is a rogue.”

“A rogue?” Rahab sputtered in disbelief. “I would say all that trouble earns her the title of sorcerer or even wizard!”
“That’s not how it works! Rogue readings are black, that’s just the way it is.”

“Rogue readings give off that much power?”

“Not usually. That… I don’t think that had anything to do with being a rogue. It took me quite a while to even pick up a color on her.”

Rahab stuttered, searching for words, and ultimately pulled the Speak With off to the side, out of ear’s range. “What was the interference?”

“I’m honestly not sure. At first, there was just static. Like television static. Then I was bombarded with all of these swirling, spinning colors. And then…things got dark. Slowly fading into nothing.”

Rahab looked at the Speak With skeptically.

“I don’t know where the interference came from.”

“You’re not telling me everything. What else did you see?”

“…Nothing,” the Speak With’s voice trailed off, her eyes glazing over. “I saw nothing.”

Rahab suppressed a surge of anger, forcing it down. “Fine,” he said in a harsh whisper. He moved with rapid deliberateness out of the room, the others following suit.

“Rahab, wait!” Raziel pleaded, rushing to keep up. “We didn’t get to ask any questions!”

“Yeah,” Arariel added. “I mean, we have titles, and that’s great, but what does that mean? What are we supposed to do?”

“I can explain it without that witch’s help,” Rahab said with disgust over his shoulder, not bothering to slow his pace. “Those titles…those are your personal roles in this group.”

“What about you Rahab? She didn’t read you.”

“I’ve already been read. I’ve been assigned as a ranger.”

“So… do we already have the capabilities needed to fulfill said duties?” Raziel asked.

“Yes and no. I’ll tell you what,” Rahab said, “it’s getting late, so let’s find an inn for the night. None of that stuff matters now.”

Demons In My View

2007-02-10T03:08:21Z

Heruseki and Arariel searched for whatever it was Rahab was trying to show them-- and it didn’t take long for them to find it.

“Oh my God, that horse’s hooves are on fire!”

“She’s alright,” Rahab said softly, leaning back on the fence.

“Alright?!” Heruseki exclaimed. “She’s frickin’ on fire! And she’s catching the field on fire, too! We can’t just stand here--!”

“Really. Heru, she’s fine,” Rahab insisted. “I know she is. I think she’s trying to tell us something.”

“She can turn into a human! If she needs to tell us something--”

“Hold on,” Rahab cut her sentence short.

He sauntered across the field towards the patch of fire.

“What is he doing?” Arariel asked.

“He’s just standing there,” Heruseki answered. “The dumbass is gonna let the whole field burn!” She chased after Rahab, Arariel following behind.

The girls found Rahab standing frozen in front of a patch of fire that was, oddly enough, not spreading.

“What is it, Rahab?” Arariel asked, tapping Rahab on the shoulder.

“How did she do this? What does this mean?”

“Rahab, you’re not making any sense! I thought you knew what was going on! Now are you gonna help Narudún?”

Rahab pulled away from the fire, looking at Narudún. “What do you mean by this?” He moved towards her still frame. “Do you mean to show me something?”

Arariel, who at some point had walked away, returned with a hose and doused the fire.

The fire’s hissing agony snapped Rahab from his trance. “Why did you do that?” Rahab dived to the smoking patch of land, panic-stricken.

“What’s the big deal? Or did you want the whole field to burn?”

“I don’t think it was going to!” he patted at the damp ground desperately. He jumped at the sound of a body crashing to the ground, and turned to find Narudún’s human frame lying unconscious in the grass.

“She’s trying to tell us something-- something important!”

“Rahab, slow down! You sound crazy. Stop worrying about the goddamn fire and sit down. Somehow, Narudún caught on fire and then stomped it out. Our main concern should be the fact
that she’s passed out,” Heruseki walked carefully to Narudún.

“Wake up! I need to talk to you, now! Narudún!”

“Rahab, stop it! She’s passed out!”

“Narudún!” Rahab raised his voice. He bit his lip, looking around wildly, eyes darting madly.

Arariel stood back with wrung hands, watching Rahab with worry. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffled it, and then just grasped at it. He paced back and forth, his mind racing, the ends of his hair falling into his eyes.

He spun around abruptly to face Narudún again.

“Orobas…?”

At this, Narudún’s eyes slowly opened. She steadily sat up and looked at Rahab. “How do you know my name?” she asked blearily.

Rahab dropped to his knees in front of her. “I’m not… It’s just, when you were running on fire, I thought I heard you--”

“I was on fire?”

“Yes. You mean to say you don’t remember?”

“No, but…it has happened before…Wait,” she grabbed Rahab’s head and smoothed his hair away from his ears. “Rahab…you have elf blood?”

Rahab batted her hands away, his hair covering the points of his ears again. “It’s not something I’m proud of. Why do you think I moved up here, to Human Territory?”

“I knew you had some inhuman blood in you. Elf… that makes sense. How could I have missed it? But if you’re so ashamed, why did you name me Narudún?”

“I--I don’t know! It just seemed right. I’m not exactly ashamed. I just… I don’t belong there. I don’t fit in with them. Apparently I’m too rowdy, too animalistic, too… too…”

“Wild?” she finished for him. “I can see that. To them, you’re scary. You have too much energy; you’re too hard to control. Plus, you’re a mixed race; a half-breed. Society in general has never fully accepted that.”

“But Raziel’s not like that!” Rahab began to feel desperate in his losing battle against her hard logic.

“It seems Raziel has taken on more elf traits than human ones. His DNA has chosen a dominant half, but yours seems caught in the middle.”

“That’s not true,” Rahab said defiantly. “I would say I’m more human.”

“Ah, but I see some very Elven traits about you. Like your ties to nature, or your wanderlust.”

Rahab searched frantically for a rebuttal, but came up empty. “How did this discussion get to be about me, anyway? You were the one making a scene. Now tell me, do you at least remember what you wrote?”

Her blank stare answered his question.

He moved in closer. “How do you know so much about elves?”

She continued to stare at him indifferently.

“You wrote a message in Elven. Was it supposed to be for me?

“I thought I made it very clear that I don’t remember any of this.”

“I don’t believe this!” Rahab sputtered in disgust, tossing his head.

“Well, what did it say?”

“Do you want the Elven version or the English version?”

“I don’t know Elven, so you’d better give me English.”

Rahab’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ignoring her last statement , he picked up a stick and rewrote the message as he remembered it, this time in English, in the dirt patch resulting from the fire:

"From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.”

“What does this mean?” Orobas asked, staring at his translation.

“You tell me!”

“It’s a quote,” Heruseki uttered. “Something from Edgar Allen Poe.”

“That’s just lovely, but what does it mean?” Rahab said impatiently.

Heruseki stared at it. “The speaker is being visited by a demon from the clouds of a lightning storm…when the rest of Heaven was blue…? Is the speaker an angel? Or just a person being confronted by a personal demon? Maybe someone with an otherwise good, simple or easy life has been confronted with a personal demon.”

Rahab’s brow furrowed. “Why the fuck did you write that, Orobas? And in a language you allegedly don’t know,” he turned to leave the scene. “I’m beginning to think you’re hiding something from us. Why else would you say something so random?”

“Well, if it was in Elven, then it was obviously meant for either you or your brother. Or… your sister, I suppose.”

“Raziel!” Rahab called.

Raziel made his way outside.

“Do you recognize this?”

After a few moments, Raziel shook his head, eyes still on the writing.

“Barakiel reads a lot, maybe it will mean something to her,” Rahab said, turning swiftly to reenter the house.

Twisted Little Sanctuary

2007-02-10T03:01:47Z

Rahab stood in the center of a room that would be empty but for a king size bed, a mirror, and a mahogany dresser. He ran his palm against the smooth grey walls and wiggled his toes in the plush red carpet.

High ceiling, very spacious, wide window…

He walked over to the closet.

And a walk-in closet. Rahab stretched out his fingers, skimming the closet's ceiling.

This will do just fine.

He set his belongings down and threw himself onto his new bed, burying his face in his pillow. He stretched out his long legs, taking full advantage of the bed's length.

"By the way," Heruseki called from the hallway.

What now...? Rahab groaned into his pillow.

"My cousin is on her way home."

"Who's that?" he lifted his head from his pillow.

"Arariel," Heruseki called back.

"Arariel...." he said quietly to himself. "Wasn't she the girl from our old school down south? The shy one?"

"Shy around you, maybe," Heruseki mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Yeah, that's the one. She's on her way home. We live together."

"You never told me you two were related!"

"You didn't ask."

"Well, I never would have guessed! You don't look alike."

He was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell.

"That's her."

Upon opening the door, Heruseki was greeted with a hug.

"Hi, Heru!"

"Hi," Heruseki patted the girl on the back, and she stepped back. "Guess who's here?"

"Who?"

"An old friend from the Southern Elf Territory," Heruseki took Arariel by her small
wrist and led her to Rahab's room. Arariel stood frozen in his doorway. He looked over his
shoulder and then flipped onto his back, sitting up.

"Hi, haven't seen you in a while," he said, looking between Heruseki and Arariel.

"Um...hi," Arariel answered, unable to think. "What brings you up north?"

"Oh, just tired, I suppose," Rahab said with a sigh. "Tired of waiting for the area to
rebuild itself, tired of the area, and just tired in general," he grinned and gave her a wink.

"Ah...I see...." Arariel played with the hem of her dark blue dress nervously, her snow-white face considerably pinker.

"That's a nice dress," Rahab swung his legs over the side of his bed, touching his feet to the floor. "Blue's a good color for you," he stood up and left the room, brushing against Heruseki as he left. Heruseki shot him a contemptuous gaze, but got only the back of his head.

Arariel turned to Heruseki abruptly. "Why did you leave him, again?"

"Don't let him confuse you," Heruseki began to hang Rahab's new clothes to distract herself from her irritation with him. "He's nice to you because he doesn't know you very well. Trust me, he's not worth the trouble. That's all he's ever been for me-- trouble."

"Trouble?" Arariel began to help Heruseki out of habit. She held a yellow silk shirt to her nose, smelling lavender. She determined that his fashion sense was decidedly nice, especially for a straight guy.

"Yeah..." Heruseki seemed to be lost in a moment of nostalgia. "Ara," Heruseki paused, dropping one of Rahab's shirts, "I don't like Rahab. He's not...an easy person to be with."

Arariel looked at Heruseki, surprised at her decision to confide something so personal. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. I just wish he would leave. My house has always been my own...twisted little sanctuary. But he's turned it into something uncomfortable."

"I thought he only just got here!"

"And already there's so much tension! It doesn't feel private when he's here," the anxiety in her voice rose, taking Arariel by surprise.

"Heru...you're scaring me. You have to stop worrying, it doesn't suit you. Isn't that my job?"

"I guess it's your turn to be the level-headed one," Heruseki smiled, the fear in her voice insistently surfacing.

Arariel groped at the ruffles of a billowy shirt's collar. "His shirts are kind of piratey, huh?"

Heruseki stared vacantly at the shirt.

Arariel knew Heruseki better than this, and knew that anyone who could shake her up this much had to be trouble.

"Arariel, Heru, look at this!" Rahab shouted from outside.

"No," Heruseki called back, "we're busy."

"But it's Narudún! Come look at her!"

"Who's Narudún?" Arariel asked, her dark blue eyes lighting up.

"This weird...horse girl.... Let's just go see what he wants."

Siblings

2007-02-10T02:53:07Z

“You what?" Barakiel ripped the ear buds from her ears, dropping her game.

Rahab gave Raziel a dirty look, which he met with a teasing smile.

"It's nice to see you, too, Barakiel. After all this time, that's the first thing you want to say to me?" with that, he gave Barakiel a familiar smile, and she instantly knew what was coming next. He bull rushed her, and then swept her up, laughing. "No, 'Rahab, how you've grown!'?" He flipped her onto her back, exposed her stomach, and blew into her bellybutton as her legs flailed in the air. "Or, 'Rahab, you're so devastatingly handsome now! What happened?'"

"You--asshole--!" she breathed between laughing spells. He tossed her to the sofa as she struggled to regain normal breathing. "I'm going to kill you in your sleep!" she sputtered, sitting up and glaring. "I'm not a little kid you can fling around, you know!"

"I know," he sighed, falling onto the couch alongside her. Barakiel rubbed her knees gingerly, detecting the faint disappointment in Rahab's voice. "Time asks a fee of everyone, Rahab. I can't be your wee little sis' forever. We're not immortal, and we have Mother to thank for that.

"I'm guessing this is your little sister, then?" inquired Narudún.

"Is this your girlfriend?" Barakiel asked simultaneously.

"Yes--no! Wait--" Rahab took a minute to extricate the separate questions. "This is my sister, Barakiel. And Barakiel, this is not my girlfriend, but her name is Narudún."

"Ah," Barakiel nodded. "Now I can't remember why I was angry-- Oh yeah!" she scowled at Rahab, standing up.

"What...?" he said with mock innocence.

"Come on," Barakiel grabbed Rahab and Raziel by the wrists.

"Where are we going--?!"

"To get you some new clothes. Raziel's driving."

"What?!" Raziel protested. "Why me?!"

Barakiel returned with Rahab and Raziel following close behind, carrying bags upon bags of clothing.

Heruseki and Narudún hastened over to lighten their load. Heruseki took a bag from between Rahab's teeth.

"Thanks," he said curtly, adding to Narudún, "We picked up some clothes for you, too. I hope they'll fit well."

"Oh...uh...thanks...." Narudún said self-consciously. "You didn't need to go to the trouble, though... I can't pay you back."

"Don't worry about that," Rahab said. "It wasn't any trouble at all."

He smiled, and Narudún felt warmth radiate from him once again.

Narudún couldn’t fathom the stiff, forced communication between Heruseki and Rahab. They were both decent people, as far as she was concerned.

Rahab unloaded the bags and began to sift through them. "I don't even remember what we bought...."

"I don't know, but it was damn expensive! And it took an excruciatingly long time for Barakiel to decide. How many different stores did we go to?"

"I don't know..." Barakiel pondered. "About ten or so? We spent nearly 100 stak, I think. Possibly more..."

"These clothes are so nice-- I can't wear them for work!"

"Work? What work? Didn't you have to quit your job when you moved?"

"No," Rahab said with a dodgy tone. "You know, thanks to Heru, I never got to eat that ramen. I'm starving!"

"What do you do for a living, Rahab?" Barakiel persisted.

"Now my ramen's cold. I wonder what reheated ramen tastes like...."

"Why is it such a big secret?"

"I need some food in my stomach...."

Barakiel glared at him and looked over at his luggage. As he ate, ignoring her completely, she trekked to his belongings and began unloading them.

"Ra aw you dooey?!" Rahab coughed through his ramen.

"Just unpacking your things for you," Barakiel said, keeping her eyes on his possessions. "You must be tired after that long trip, so I thought I'd do you a favor."

Rahab hastily threw his ramen bowl down and rushed to Barakiel, jerking a tin tube with a leather cap from her hands.

"Don't you ever go through my things," he said darkly.

Barakiel took a few steps back, raising an eyebrow. "What's the big deal? What was that thing, anyway?"

"It was none of your business," he threw the tube back into his leather backpack, throwing it onto his back. He lifted his other bag and trudged out of the room, fuming silently.

Barakiel watched him leave, her face marked with disbelief. "What the hell was that about? What does he have to hide, anyway?!"

"I don't know, but that looked like a like a case; probably for a map or a scroll," Narudún said softly, her eyes fixed on the doorway by which Rahab made his exit. "I wonder what's inside it...."

"Rahab, what are you doing out here?" Heruseki found Rahab sitting in the shade of a large tree, clutching his bags to his chest, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

He gave no answer; no acknowledgment of her presence.

"It's going to rain, you know," she continued, sitting a fair distance from him. "Your things are going to get all wet."

Rahab slowly closed his eyes, and Heruseki watched his shoulders rise and fall as an eerie, ghostly sigh escaped him. He both looked and sounded truly, genuinely tired. He leaned back against the tree stump, resting his head against it as he watched the leaves blow against the greying sky. "Have you always sounded like that?"

"What?" Heruseki asked, a little shocked that he had spoken a full sentence to her that was not out of anger.

"Your voice, I mean. Was it like that when we last spoke?"

"You mean when you chased me in the kitchen?"

"No, I mean when we first met in the Elf Territory."

"Do I sound different now? That was so long ago, I can't remember."

"It was not!" Rahab said, finally looking at her. "It hasn't even been two years, has it? I guess that's too long for you to remember," he teased.

Heruseki scowled at Rahab, the black cat ears that sat atop her head pulling back. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, sliding a bit closer to Rahab.

"You seem quieter than I remember," he turned to her, his guard dropping slightly, "or hoarser...or...something...." he trailed off, noticing her right eye, which glowed red against her nearly grey face. "Have your eyes always been mismatched like that? I could have sworn they were both yellow when we first met." He reached out, then pulled back in awareness, and shuffled away after he grasped his unconscious movement toward her.

Heruseki looked away, hiding her right eye from Rahab in profile. "It's raining now," she stood up, brushing grass off her plaid pleated miniskirt. "Can I carry something for you? Or am I not allowed to?" she reached out with long, spidery fingers.

Rahab's smile carried a hint of annoyance. "Okay, I get it; I should be nicer to my sister."

Strangers

2007-02-10T02:41:37Z

Heruseki, Raziel, and Caym stood awkwardly around Narudún.

"Should we really just leave her here?" Raziel asked.

"What harm could it do...?" Caym replied with hesitance.

Yet no one felt comfortable going back inside, leaving a wild horse out there. Eventually, Heruseki turned to leave, and the other two slowly followed.

"Jesus, were you throwing a party out there?" Rahab called from around the corner.

"Aw, Christ," Heruseki called, "is he in the kitchen?" She followed Rahab's voice, and sure enough, they found Rahab with a pot of ramen in his hands.

"You bitch! That's my ramen!"

"You've got a whole cabinet of ramen, you can spare a pack!"

"That's not a pack, that's gotta be at least three packs! Who eats three packs of ramen in one sitting?"

"I do! So get off my back!"

"Each pack is actually two servings, so you're eating six servings of ramen, you fat ass!"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Rahab proceeded to chase Heruseki around the kitchen with a pot of ramen, smiling deviously. Heruseki laughed and made a jump for the refrigerator, pulling herself atop of it.

Raziel, Caym, and an unknown girl entered the room. Normally, Raziel and Caym catching him off guard would leave him unfazed. This stranger, however, stopped him dead in his tracks, halfway up the refrigerator, with his legs dangling off the side.

"Um...." Rahab dropped from the side of the refrigerator. Heruseki remained perched on her throne, staring.

"Who is this?" Rahab asked cautiously.

"Don't you remember?" the girl tilted her head to the side, her face shrouded by the hood of her cloak, "Or have you already forgotten how you got here?"

Rahab's eyes widened in realization. "Narudún?"

The girl pulled back her hood, revealing a smile. "Yes, that's the name you gave me." She had large, dark, wide-set eyes on a long, narrow face. Even as a human, there was something horse-like about her. She wore a long, black cloak that revealed only boots and wool breeches.

"So wait, wait a minute," Rahab tried to wrap his mind around the concept of this girl being Narudún, "you're saying...you're a hose."

"Yes," Narudún said simply.

"You're a shape-shifter?"

"Not really. A horse is my true form. I can take this form when necessary, but that's it."

"I had to assume you weren’t normal when you ran at highway speed.”

"So," Caym interposed, "she's the horse you rode down here? That's... a little awkward."

"So anyway," Heruseki chimed in, feeling the gaucheness settle in, "are you sticking around, Rahab? I mean, for good?"

"I suppose...." Rahab answered, refusing to make eye contact.

"Well, with all that baggage he made me carry, he better stay awhile!" Narudún said. "But this is a nice house, and this guy packed like he was going to be living outside or something."

Heruseki gave Rahab a questioning stare, which he tactfully avoided.

Narudún turned to Rahab. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Rahab Nephilim," he answered. "And this is my brother, Raziel," he motioned toward a silver-haired boy. "I have a sister, too, but...let's not talk about her. This is my friend, Caym."

Narudún nodded expectantly. When he seemed to be finished, she looked to Heruseki. "You forgot someone."

"My name's Heruseki. You can just call me Heru," she seemed not at all surprised that Rahab failed to mention her.

Narudún shifted her weight uneasily, lowering her head, her eyes still on Heruseki.

"Is something wrong?" Heruseki asked tensely.

"No, it's just... I'm sorry, it's not your fault, but... your eyes make me feel uneasy.”
This only heightened Heruseki’s confusion. "So," she thought it best to direct attention away from herself, "Where do you come from, Narudún?"

"Oh," Narudún paused to think. "I don't even remember. I guess I'm a nomad now. No real direction."

"So, do you think you'll be staying as well? I mean, you're welcome to."

Narudún pondered this momentarily. "Yes. I think I'll take your offer," she said decisively.

"Good," Heruseki replied, laughing at Narudún's formality. "And loosen up a little! You're worse than Rahab!"

Narudún cocked her head, her wide eyes revealing an innocent ignorance. "Rahab? Rigid? That's not the impression I was given at all. Initially cautious, maybe. But once we had each other's trust, he was very no-holds-barred. He's nice," a smile once again found its way to Narudún's mouth, this time in earnest.

Heruseki’s eyes burned into Narudún's. There was an unspoken distance between them, an inborn uneasiness they couldn't seem to surmount. The alertness that reflected from the depths of Narudún's eyes contrasted with what Heruseki had, which was paranoia. She breathed a perpetual distrust of her surroundings that filled Narudún with irrepressible unrest.

Heruseki watched Narudún intently as she spoke, somehow captivated. "Nice..." Heruseki mumbled. "Was he...?" her eyes remained fixed on Narudún, now looking past her rather than at her.

"Yes," Narudún turned her head away slightly, keeping her eyes on Heruseki, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm guessing those are your only clothes," Heruseki blurted suddenly.

"Um...yes," Narudún stuttered, taken aback. "Wh...why?"

"Oh, it's just," Heruseki's eyes dodged again, "if you plan on staying for a while, and going in to town as a human...you might stick out."

"Ah, I see what you mean... I think."

"That goes for you too, Rahab," she turned her attention abruptly. "I hope you have some different clothing. Like whatever it was Barakiel picked out for you."

"Well of course I brought other clothes! No, I just thought I'd wear this forever!" he tugged at his thin, flowing white shirt. "But no, I didn't have room for everything, so I had to pack just the essentials. I had to leave most of my clothing behind."

"Barakiel's gonna be pissed, you know," Raziel said in his usual casual tone. "She always enjoyed dressing you up, like her little doll."

"Yeah, well... What of my clothing, anyway?"

Heruseki looked him over, taking in his wide-brimmed hat, his deep red scarf that hid his chin, his leather breeches tucked into sturdy boots, his loose yet clingy button-up, and the most peculiar component of his ensemble: his blood-red cloak. The floaty silk swept around his ankles when he walked, taking on a life of its own. The sleeves, hem, and collar were trimmed in black fur, as was the hood. Fiery Mandarin garnets buffed to a high-gloss served as the buttons. Heru also took notice of the several rings on his fingers-- including the intricate signet ring she assumed was used to seal her letter.

"Yeah, you're definitely gonna stand out like that."

Secrets

2007-02-10T02:34:21Z

“Heru, this letter came in the mail for you...."

"Uh, okay...a letter? Seriously? As in...from an actual person?"

"What else?"

"Honestly, who sends letters anymore? With email so readily available to everyone, snail mail just seems...dated."

"Well, maybe this person doesn't have access to the Internet! Just take the letter, already."

Heruseki examined the wax seal. They used a signet ring...? Wait! I know this handwriting! She broke the seal away, shredding the envelope, revealing delicate parchment, covered in the words:

Heruseki:

After much deliberation, I have decided to take my leave of this city and its people. The all-too-recent disaster has opened my eyes to a greater personal disaster. This city has filled me with memories-- both joyous and painful-- and with nostalgia of my fondest memory-- a curious, hopefully idealistic kitten.

I will be joining you and my brother Raziel within a matter of days.

Send Raziel my regards,

Rahab N.

If he sent this the same day that he left, then he left about two days ago.

"Feh," she tossed the letter aside. "How is he getting here, horseback?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your brother's on his way here, apparently," Heruseki mumbled, turning away.

"Really?!" Raziel instantly lit up at this knowledge.

"Yeah, but don't get excited," Heruseki scoffed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he left a couple of days ago. You'd think if he were really coming, he'd be here by now."

Upon seeing Raziel's distressed expression, she quickly added, "He's probably just taking his sweet time, as always! You know your brother; always stopping to smell the flowers."

Raziel ran to the window, looking out for his twin. It had been over a year since they had seen each other, and Rahab hadn’t contacted Raziel since the hurricane. Raziel would have thought him dead had it not been for Heruseki moving north. These two had a relationship (but apparently no actual relations) that lasted about a year. Apparently Heruseki doesn’t put stock in long-distance relationships that stretch across a country. Was it Rahab’s pride that kept him from staying in touch this whole time? What a bastard.

Raziel's pointed ears perked. "Barakiel! Barakiel, Rahab’s coming home!"

Raziel pounded on Barakiel's door. A girl less than a handful of inches shorter than Raziel, with hair just as white, opened the door. Her equally pointed ears were currently plugged with headphones, and her eyes (the same misty shade of green as Rahab's) were fixated on a handheld gaming system.

Raziel gave an exasperated sigh and pulled the cord on one of her headphone ears, jerking it from her ears.

"Hey!" he shouted into her exposed ear.

Barakiel gave a start and looked up from her game.

"This better be important. You're interrupting VNV Nation and the original Zelda game."

"Rahab is on his way up right now!"

"Really?" Barakiel's face lit up. "I hope he's bringing all those clothes I picked out. I wonder if he's been wearing them. He'd better be...." her voice trailed off, and she shut the door in Raziel's face.

"...Wow."

He immediately went to the phone.

"What are you doing?" Heruseki raised a black eyebrow.

"Calling Caym; he'll want to know!"

Raziel pulled the receiver away from his delicate ears as a cheer tore the air.

"That. Is. Awesome," the voice on the other end declared.

"Yeah," Raziel replied, "if I knew the exact date, we could throw him a coming home party--wait--" Raziel's eyes skimmed the area outside and spotted a horse mounted by--

"Rahab! It's Rahab!"

"What?"

"Rahab's back! Right now-- he's back!"

Raziel ran outside, and Heruseki slinked behind.

"Rahab! Rahab, we just got your letter--"

"Where'd that horse come from?" Heruseki interjected abruptly.

"I found her on the way up... she saved a lot of time, actually."

"As opposed to what? Walking?" Caym asked.

"No, my Vespa. Douche."

"Wait... how fast does that go...?"

"About 45 miles per hour."

Caym did a double take. "Uh... okay! So... you stole someone's racing horse and ditched your Vespa?"

"No!" Rahab snapped with some guilt. "I stole a totally random mustang and ditched my Vespa."

Heruseki gave him a skeptical look. "This country doesn't have wild horses."

"I guess it has one. And she's big-- like a thoroughbred. Sixteen hands, maybe?"

"I don't buy that. When do you see a wild thoroughbred?"

"I don't know! I don't know what she is-- but we had to pass cars on the way here-- and I couldn't manage to pull a saddle out of my ass. So...yeah...I need to sit."

"What about the horse? Are you just gonna leave her here?"

“She'll be fine! Trust me, she's sharp," Rahab tapped his temple, giving Heruseki a playful wink.

And with that he left Heruseki, Caym, and Raziel with the random horse.

"Well at least tell me what you've decided to call her!" Heruseki said insistently.

"Narudún," Rahab called back.

"Where did that name come from?" Caym asked.

"It's Elven," Raziel breathed, somehow amazed. "I can't believe Rahab used Elven. It, um… it means ‘hellfire.’"

Exodus

2007-02-10T02:21:03Z

Rahab stepped through the doorway of a third-floor apartment, wincing as he held his back. “Just out of high school; I can’t be getting old already…! I should have turned on the A/C before I left,” he turned the dial to “High Cool.”

He walked to the sink and casually pulled off blood-soaked, suede gloves, delicately dropping them into the sink.

I'll let the cleaning lady get that....

He unloaded his bow and quiver half-filled with arrows, the wood clunking on the table. He relieved his shoulders of his thick leather armor, revealing a crisp white shirt. He pulled out a wooden chair, intricately carved and cushioned in blue silk, and took a seat at the table. He pulled a loaf of bread from the breadbasket at the center of the long table, and pierced through the tough exterior with tougher teeth.

There was a knock at the door, and a middle-aged woman entered.

“Hey, Vadania,” he said, not looking up from the boots he was preoccupied with.

“Rahab, are you eating just bread again?” Vadania looked around the house. “It looks like you just got home... Let me fix you something,” she took the bread from beside him. “You can't live off of bread alone!”

Rahab kicked off his boots and leaned back, making use of the armrests on the chair.

“You work far too hard to eat bread for dinner!”

Rahab tilted his head to the window, taking in the skyline, the city lights reflecting in his misty eyes.

I've been here too long. Life is becoming routine again.

He scratched his head, his fingernails picking up grains of sand through thick, wavy strands of dark hair.

I guess that's what I get for rolling around with dragons all day. He scrutinized the sand blearily.

“I'm going to draw some water so you can have a bath. Dinner’s in the oven.”

I think it's time for me to move.

“Rahab, your water’s ready--!” Vadania called. She walked into the dining room, only to find it Rahab-less.

“Rahab...?” She peeked into his bedroom.

“I would thank you to stay out of my… most personal quarters.”

“Oh--! I'm sorry, Rahab, I just wanted to tell you your bath is ready.”

She gave a small start and turned around to find Rahab standing there with an unfamiliar look on his face. Unlike his normal, lucid expressions of pure energy, this face was stone-cold and lifeless. He slammed his door shut, and Vadania was only able to catch a glimpse of the bags sitting on Rahab's bed.

Vadania sat on the sofa, awaiting Rahab's return, as she had already set the table. After what felt to Vadania like an excessive amount of time in the bath, her mind began to wander to Rahab’s recent behavior. His secretiveness was unusual, and Vadania just realized that she had never seen him angry. An even-tempered guy, she would have preferred for him to yell or snap at her than the passive anger that reverberated from him. His quiet manner troubled her; almost as much as his complete ignorance to the red wine on the table (that he would be craving on a normal return from work). But what explanation could be offered? Trouble at work? Vadania doubted it; Rahab was fairly talented at keeping his home life and his work life severed. Some relationship anxiety? Not likely; in all the time Vadania had known and cared for Rahab, he had never let such matters ail him. Depression? This, Vadania believed, was a possibility. As comparatively abstract as depression was, it seemed the most likely. Is life just growing boring for him?

And then a fear that felt at once very real and very surreal; was this some repercussion from the hurricane? It had been a matter of months since it hit, and Vadania had found it strange that Rahab had moved on so quickly. He had lost his horse, his house, and his girlfriend, who decided this city (and Rahab himself) held too many memories, and had moved to Northern Human Territory. Maybe this was Rahab finally coming to terms with his losses. And Rahab, being the dramatic sort, wasn’t likely to handle bottled feelings well. As drastic as he was, Vadania had reason to believe that Rahab would choose the theatrical escape…

Vadania rushed to the bathroom to find the door open, the bathwater drained, and the room empty.

She moved to his bedroom, where the room was, yet again, empty. Where she had seen a few sacks, there was now a piece of parchment, an envelope, and a sizable stack of currency.

Vadania lifted the parchment and read the note addressed to “Ms. Vadania Liadon:”\

You have been a wonderful housekeeper in my experience, and I couldn’t ask for better services. Unfortunately, I find myself bored with life in this area, especially with the city's current state being what it is. You will find I have left you with appropriate compensation whilst you search for a new client.

My Sincerest Regards,

Rahab Nephilim.

P.S. As on last favour, please see that this letter is mailed out- it is already stamped with the proper postage.

Vadania took the letter into her thin hands. The envelope was sealed with the wax insignia of Rahab’s family: a one-winged angel wrapped in spiked chains.

She immediately walked to the closet near the door and searched frantically, her heart sinking.

I guess he really meant it. His father's old cloak is gone.

She took out her shawl and left to deliver his letter.

Upon exiting the apartment complex, she was greeted by the usual group of elf girls.

“Hi, Ms. Liadon! Is Rahab home today?”

“No, girls. I'm afraid he's up and left.”

“Left? For how long?”

“I’m afraid it’s a permanent leave this time."

“What? No! Really?”

“Yes, I have this note he wrote announcing so. I don't think he'd say such a thing if he didn't mean it.

Vadania was met with a unified groan of disappointment from the girls.

“Well, where is he off to? Did he say?”

“No, he simply said he'd grown tired of this city. However, I expect he’ll travel north. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to deliver this letter to the post office. It was his final request of me.”

“It looks so classy. Who’s it addressed to?”

“He always smelled like sandalwood and flowers…kinda feminine. Maybe that's a human thing,” another elf girl added.

“Or maybe he kept a lot of girls for company! Well, Ms. Liadon? Did he?”

“I'll have you know that he kept a lot of flowers and plants for company. I don't know what business any of you girls have with Mr. Nephilim in the first place! Now I really must be on my way.”

Vadania made her way past the girls that now stood outside of the complex door, wondering what to do with themselves.

Find some purpose, already. I thought I had found mine....

She reached her destination, letter in hand.

Heruseki Sasori Kagirinai. What an odd name. Must be some kind of Asian. She slipped the letter into the drop-box and turned to leave.

I wonder what he plans to do next. I've only seen him wear his father's cloak once, when he first tried it on. He looked...just like his father. Just like Awarth.

Vadania laughed to herself.

Maybe that's why he didn't like it.

Prologue: Hope And Hungry Eyes

2007-02-10T01:51:07Z

A tall half-elf pushed through the wet wreckage, he himself sopping, his shirt threadbare and clinging. He pushed through the water, his suede pants weighing him down, and screamed, for the thousandth time, "Heru!"

He was certain that his lungs would begin bleeding, if they hadn’t already, and his cries were growing hoarse and useless. He held tightly to his left elbow, since somewhere in that vicinity of his arm, he was bleeding, though he couldn’t feel just where, due to partial numbness.

He focused all of his thoughts on moving forward; he hadn’t the energy to worry, because somewhere in that city, Heruseki was waiting for him. Possibly hurt, or unconscious, or--

No. There wasn’t room in his pained head for fears. He focused his energy on the most basic needs, such as breathing, moving one foot in front of the other, and climbing over floating toilets.

Because he knew that somewhere in that city that was once teeming with life and culture, Heruseki was waiting for him. But the tempest had pushed everything out of place.

He was always comfortable with water, but now it had betrayed him and the city he lived in. A fine and lovely year, ruined by a bloody storm.

Sure, it rained back in London, but this was madness. Southern Elf Territory was suddenly serving him no good. And everything had been going his way…

“Heru!” He called off to the distance, as he had spotted his much searched-for prize. Suddenly his legs tore through the water, as if they were completely unaware of its presence.

Heruseki sat perched on a waterlogged sofa, her razor-cut black hair falling into her sallow lemon eyes. Slowly, she turned her head to the elf, her washed-out face smiling weakly.

“Hey, Rahab,” she said in a faded whisper.

He shook before her, puzzled, until he realized that Heruseki had never seen him so disheveled. From his tousled brown hair to his torn, soaked, somewhat bloody clothes, he was an outright mess. “Wipe off that mocking smile, lovely,” he said that last word with a curling lip and an equally mocking sarcasm, as the girl looked every bit as unruly as he did.

Rahab pulled off a sticky leather glove and threw it at Heruseki’s face, her cat ears jerking back instinctually. He sat down next to her on the sofa, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, observing the stains on her face. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I don’t know.”

The two sat in silence. Rahab wanted, badly, to ask, “Have you been crying?” and decided that was a stupid question. He reached out for her shoulder, and she flinched, finally breaking the silence.

“Rahab, come here.”

She grabbed his wrist, leading him along the remnants of a great city. What he found when she finally stopped was not at all what he had been expecting. Well, one never expects anything from a hurricane. Bad things in general, yes, but nothing specific.

Laying in front of him was his horse, its hind leg twisted into a very awkward position. Its head moved somewhat, but it looked tired, as though it had done its fair share of struggling and suffering.

From the disorderly hairs on his head to his fingertips and down through to his toes, Rahab filled with an uncomfortable numbness. His jaw slackened as he became progressively unaware of his own body. His posture sunk, his shoulders sloped, and he seemed generally more vulnerable to gravity. Eventually his heart couldn’t keep up with the demand from his knees (or his knees couldn’t keep up with his heart) and he collapsed into a sort of sitting position in the water, in front of his horse.

Where he had once been choking on the excess of water, he was now dry, as if his mouth had forgotten about salivating. His eyebrows slowly, reluctantly creased his forehead as his eyelids became too heavy with the burden of a dying horse.

He hung his head, and Heruseki, standing at a safe distance, heard a faint rasp of a whisper, making out “Oh…my…god.” He reached out to his horse, feeling its heart beat slowly. He found that it had somehow cut itself on something, as he pulled his hand back to find more blood. He clenched the blood in his hand, feeling it seep between his fingers, a single tear seeping from his eye. He stood up, breathing heavily, knees still shaking, and pulled a out a katar that was secured tightly on his person. He gripped the handle as tightly as he could, moving to his knees again, and aimed straight between the horse’s weary eyes.

An ear-splitting crack sounded through the air, and Heruseki’s hands flew up to her face. Rahab’s front was painted in red flecks, and he turned as green as his own eyes, jerking the katar from his horse’s skull and throwing it far behind him. He turned from the horse’s body and emptied his stomach onto the nearest available object. He gripped the hair at his temples, his upper half curling down to his knees as an anguished scream escaped him. He collapsed on his horse, shaking with grief.

Heruseki, in an eerie surreal state, allowed her legs to glide her to Rahab’s side, where she sat, hanging her head in silence for the life that had just passed and the soul that had just taken another blow.

Rahab slowly lifted his heavy head from his folded arms, watching a small wave bring in a familiar corpse. It was a man; he couldn’t have been further in life than his late thirties. The fair hair, the face…Rahab recognized it as belonging to Heruseki’s uncle, Domino. His glassy, tear-spoiled eyes turned to Heruseki warily. Her own eyes acknowledged Domino, but she remained silent, and this was enough to say “I already know. Yes, he’s dead. I’ve already done my crying.”

Rahab looked helplessly from Heruseki to the horse to Domino, then resting his eyes on his own weary reflection in the pool he resided in. He stood, stretching out a hand for Heruseki. The two walked to no particular destination, as the storm had left them with no destination to reach. He kept his grip on her hand almost painfully tight, and with his free hand he felt a tear in his lower lip, realizing he must have busted it when he bit down on it to stop his own screaming. They leaned against each other’s shoulders, each having insufficient strength to walk freely on their own. Rahab assumed that there must be other survivors, and he and Heruseki both hoped that Domino’s daughter, Arariel, was among them.

“What are we going to do now?” Heruseki asked, though it was more of a breathy sigh than an actual voice that escaped her.

“Find other people who survived, I guess. There’s not much else to do. Maybe we can find some form of shelter. Maybe, somewhere in this city, someone came from one of the other territories to help. I doubt East or West would, so it would most likely be North. Maybe the Northern Territory sent someone to help us.”

“Maybe,” Heruseki sighed again, her voice dead and broken. “Maybe no one even knows we’re out here. Maybe everyone forgot about us.”