Beyond the Pale -Part 113
Buenos dias, faithful readers!
Your beloved but struggling narrator is attempting to get back on track. Here's what got written yesterday. I will do my best to post one instalment every day until I'm caught up again. Then I'll start catching up on Conflation.
My apologies for the long hiatus.
*****
Bathes-in-the-Rain left Vicky alone to await the arrival of Running Bear. Vicky felt unaccountably nervous, and fidgeted in the dark tent, twisting her fingers together, and wishing there was something she could do besides wait. It was pitch-black in the tent, and while she considered pulling back the tent flap, she made no move to do so. Seeing in the dark was not part of the package of being undead, she noted idly. She could see past surfaces into people’s natures (more or less), and have visions of the past, but take away a regular source of light and she was just as blind as any other living person.
Before she could spend much time pondering the incongruities of being dead, the tent flap opened once more, and a tall figure ducked inside. Upon closer inspection, she decided that the man was even taller than he’d first appeared, standing a good three or four inches over six feet. At first glance, and in the poor light, she might have mistaken him for a much younger man, closer to her own age: he was well-muscled, dressed only in buckskin leggings and soft moccassins. His bronze skin glowed with good health, and his dark eyes glittered with a keen, piercing intelligence. However, the fine lines around his eyes belied the first impression of youth, as did the streaks of silver in his long hair, which he’d braided and tied back with a leather thong.
“I am Running Bear,” he said, in flawless and almost unaccented English. She thought that might have been more for her benefit, to show that he spoke her language, since she had already guessed who he was. Or perhaps the Navajo were equally beholden to certain rules of etiquette. “I am chief of this tribe. My daughter tells me that she brought you here for safety. Is it true that you are inhabited by Manitous?”
“Bathes-in-the-Rain is your daughter?” Vicky boggled, inadvertently ignoring the question. Whatever else she might have thought of the young Indian girl, chief’s daughter was the last thing she would have guessed,
Running Bear threw her a sharp look. “That is unimportant. Do you deny what I have said?” Vicky shook her head, and he continued. “You have brought danger and darkness into the midst of my tribe. Does this mean nothing to you?”
She looked up from where she sat, aware suddenly that this might be a test, that her life (such as it was) might well depend on her answer to his question. The Indians weren’t exactly known for being civilized, at least not the way white people understood it. They had their own ways, their own customs, and who knew how they viewed the undead? Probably not well, she told herself, and that wasn’t such an unreasonable guess, given the way everyone else had reacted.
“I don’t wish anyone harm,” she said at length. “I didn’t choose to be brought here: I was unconscious. I could hardly choose to avoid... wherever this place is, no matter what my intentions were.”
His dark eyes drilled holes into her. “You claim, then, that you do not intend harm? Do you deny the danger that your very presence poses?”
“I never said that!” she snapped, a now all-too-familiar anger making itself felt somewhere near where her heart used to beat. The anger surprised her every time, as though it wasn’t entirely of her making. She forced it down again. “Of course my presence here is a danger to you. How could it not be? Do you know what I am?”
Running Bear squatted on his heels beside her, elbows on his knees, and looked curiously at her. “I think you do not know yourself,” he said, more gently than she’d expected. When she didn’t reply, he insisted. “Do you know what you are?”
She met his eyes for a few moments, then lowered her eyes, unable to sustain his gaze, and shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted.
“What do you know?”
“Not much.” She stared at the floor between them. “I know that I’m dead, and that the only reason I’m still around is because -something- is keeping me alive. Well, not alive, exactly. Uh, animated, I guess. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that, whatever it is, it’s evil.”
Running Bear nodded gravely, though whether it was in agreement with what she’d said, or simply in acknowledgement of it, she wasn’t sure. Silence reigned for several minutes, in which she tried very hard not to fidget under his thoughtful gaze. It felt as though her insides were squirming in discomfort, and it took all her concentration not to physically respond to the discomfort.
“What do you know of the Reckoning?” Running Bear asked after a moment.
Victoria blinked, a swirl of images springing unbidden into her mind. For a few dizzying seconds the tent disappeared and she was once again with Raven on the high bluff, feeling his rage and hatred and impotence as they listened to the cries of women and children being slaughtered far below. The earth moved under her feet, the sky split open before her, and she found herself in the midst of a swirling battle whose opponents she could discern only dimly. She felt a surge of emotions wash over her: hatred, fear, anger, and most of all, despair. Darkness engulfed the combatants, and she felt it begin to pull her in. Then, just as quickly as they had come, the images vanished. She shook her head to clear it.
“Do you know what I speak of?” Running Bear asked again.
She opened her mouth, and found herself curiously reluctant to tell him about what she’d seen. It was just a weird dream, wasn’t it? What would be the point of saying anything about something that was just the product of an overactive imagination? She shook her head again.
“You lie,” he replied, though his expression seemed amused rather than anything else. “It is good for you that you do not lie well. This tells me that your heart is not accustomed to falsehood. You are no stranger to death and killing, but falsehood is a stranger to you. Tell me: why do you refuse to tell me what you know? Does the truth frighten you so much?”
She hesitated. “I... it’s stupid. I mean, why should I know anything about this, anyway? I don’t know how I would...” she stopped, collecting her thoughts. “I think I saw it -in a dream,” she admitted.
Again Running Bear nodded. “The spirits granted you a vision. You are fortunate for this blessing. Tell me what you saw.”
Blessing? It certainly didn’t feel like one. “I’m... not sure what I saw,” she admitted. “We were in a cavern in the Maze. The walls looked as though they had been scraped clean, and so I...” how the hell was she supposed to explain that she had used some sort of power to look past that? “I was looking at the wall, and it... sort of came to life. I saw what was painted on the wall before, but as though it was happening, right then.
It was as though someone had opened up the floodgates. It was easy, after that, to relive the maelstrom of colour, of conflicting emotions she was sure belonged to someone else. She found herself telling Running Bear about the strange voice that had told the story of the Reckoning, about Raven and the terrible forces he had unleashed upon the land, about his unquenchable thirst for vengeance against those who had slaughtered his people. She talked for what felt like hours, trying to explain what she had seen, what she had been before, what she had become. She talked, astonished by the words that came tumbling from her like pebbles in an avalanche: the grief and pain and frustration, the surprising satisfaction and even the occasional absurd pleasure that came from being dead and yet still alive, caught between two world.
She talked until she exhausted all her words, and silence fell once again. She sat quite still next to Running Bear, no longer feeling any urge at all to move or fidget. She simply waited, hands folded in her lap, to hear what he would say.
At length he spoke, choosing his words with care. “You know everything you need to know. There is very little I can tell you about this that you have not already been shown. You understand, then, that you are possessed by a great host of Manitous, and that they will use your body as an earthly vessel to cause great harm?”
“I know.”
“You know, too, that the Manitous grant you power -power greater than any living being possesses. You can use this power, should you wish to.”
She bit her lip. “But they can use it too, can’t they?”
“They can. Inevitably, they will gain dominion over your body. They will not be content with taking power from you temporarily. Every night, already, you battle them in your dreams. You are stronger than most, for you still have some control over your actions. But the day will come when you will have no dominion over yourself anymore.”
Vicky closed her eyes. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her existence? Would she wage a losing battle until the time came when she would be a prisoner of her own body, forced to watch as the demons inside her wreaked whatever havoc they pleased on the rest of the world? Was that what Monroe had been trying to do, to spare her, when he’d tried to end her existence? She came to her senses with a jolt, realizing that Running Bear was speaking to her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Running Bear frowned disapprovingly at her. “I asked if you wish to remain as you are.”
She shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” She paused. “Are you saying I have a choice?”
He stared at her, his expression impenetrable. “There is always a choice. The Manitous will prevent you from taking any action that would harm them, but I can provide you with the help you require. Be warned: it may come at too high a price for you. I will return before sunset to hear your answer.”
Without another word he rose to his feet and left her alone in the darkness, too stunned even to speak. She wanted to call after him, but it was too late. She settled in to wait, ignoring the familiar whisperings and flutterings in her mind that grew ever more frantic with every passing moment. There was no question in her mind, never had been. She sat very still, hands folded in her lap, smiling at the demons’ impotence. When Running Bear returned, she was ready and waiting.
“I have made my decision,” she said in a calm, clear voice. “I want this to end, once and for all.”
*****
Your beloved but struggling narrator is attempting to get back on track. Here's what got written yesterday. I will do my best to post one instalment every day until I'm caught up again. Then I'll start catching up on Conflation.
My apologies for the long hiatus.
*****
Bathes-in-the-Rain left Vicky alone to await the arrival of Running Bear. Vicky felt unaccountably nervous, and fidgeted in the dark tent, twisting her fingers together, and wishing there was something she could do besides wait. It was pitch-black in the tent, and while she considered pulling back the tent flap, she made no move to do so. Seeing in the dark was not part of the package of being undead, she noted idly. She could see past surfaces into people’s natures (more or less), and have visions of the past, but take away a regular source of light and she was just as blind as any other living person.
Before she could spend much time pondering the incongruities of being dead, the tent flap opened once more, and a tall figure ducked inside. Upon closer inspection, she decided that the man was even taller than he’d first appeared, standing a good three or four inches over six feet. At first glance, and in the poor light, she might have mistaken him for a much younger man, closer to her own age: he was well-muscled, dressed only in buckskin leggings and soft moccassins. His bronze skin glowed with good health, and his dark eyes glittered with a keen, piercing intelligence. However, the fine lines around his eyes belied the first impression of youth, as did the streaks of silver in his long hair, which he’d braided and tied back with a leather thong.
“I am Running Bear,” he said, in flawless and almost unaccented English. She thought that might have been more for her benefit, to show that he spoke her language, since she had already guessed who he was. Or perhaps the Navajo were equally beholden to certain rules of etiquette. “I am chief of this tribe. My daughter tells me that she brought you here for safety. Is it true that you are inhabited by Manitous?”
“Bathes-in-the-Rain is your daughter?” Vicky boggled, inadvertently ignoring the question. Whatever else she might have thought of the young Indian girl, chief’s daughter was the last thing she would have guessed,
Running Bear threw her a sharp look. “That is unimportant. Do you deny what I have said?” Vicky shook her head, and he continued. “You have brought danger and darkness into the midst of my tribe. Does this mean nothing to you?”
She looked up from where she sat, aware suddenly that this might be a test, that her life (such as it was) might well depend on her answer to his question. The Indians weren’t exactly known for being civilized, at least not the way white people understood it. They had their own ways, their own customs, and who knew how they viewed the undead? Probably not well, she told herself, and that wasn’t such an unreasonable guess, given the way everyone else had reacted.
“I don’t wish anyone harm,” she said at length. “I didn’t choose to be brought here: I was unconscious. I could hardly choose to avoid... wherever this place is, no matter what my intentions were.”
His dark eyes drilled holes into her. “You claim, then, that you do not intend harm? Do you deny the danger that your very presence poses?”
“I never said that!” she snapped, a now all-too-familiar anger making itself felt somewhere near where her heart used to beat. The anger surprised her every time, as though it wasn’t entirely of her making. She forced it down again. “Of course my presence here is a danger to you. How could it not be? Do you know what I am?”
Running Bear squatted on his heels beside her, elbows on his knees, and looked curiously at her. “I think you do not know yourself,” he said, more gently than she’d expected. When she didn’t reply, he insisted. “Do you know what you are?”
She met his eyes for a few moments, then lowered her eyes, unable to sustain his gaze, and shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted.
“What do you know?”
“Not much.” She stared at the floor between them. “I know that I’m dead, and that the only reason I’m still around is because -something- is keeping me alive. Well, not alive, exactly. Uh, animated, I guess. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that, whatever it is, it’s evil.”
Running Bear nodded gravely, though whether it was in agreement with what she’d said, or simply in acknowledgement of it, she wasn’t sure. Silence reigned for several minutes, in which she tried very hard not to fidget under his thoughtful gaze. It felt as though her insides were squirming in discomfort, and it took all her concentration not to physically respond to the discomfort.
“What do you know of the Reckoning?” Running Bear asked after a moment.
Victoria blinked, a swirl of images springing unbidden into her mind. For a few dizzying seconds the tent disappeared and she was once again with Raven on the high bluff, feeling his rage and hatred and impotence as they listened to the cries of women and children being slaughtered far below. The earth moved under her feet, the sky split open before her, and she found herself in the midst of a swirling battle whose opponents she could discern only dimly. She felt a surge of emotions wash over her: hatred, fear, anger, and most of all, despair. Darkness engulfed the combatants, and she felt it begin to pull her in. Then, just as quickly as they had come, the images vanished. She shook her head to clear it.
“Do you know what I speak of?” Running Bear asked again.
She opened her mouth, and found herself curiously reluctant to tell him about what she’d seen. It was just a weird dream, wasn’t it? What would be the point of saying anything about something that was just the product of an overactive imagination? She shook her head again.
“You lie,” he replied, though his expression seemed amused rather than anything else. “It is good for you that you do not lie well. This tells me that your heart is not accustomed to falsehood. You are no stranger to death and killing, but falsehood is a stranger to you. Tell me: why do you refuse to tell me what you know? Does the truth frighten you so much?”
She hesitated. “I... it’s stupid. I mean, why should I know anything about this, anyway? I don’t know how I would...” she stopped, collecting her thoughts. “I think I saw it -in a dream,” she admitted.
Again Running Bear nodded. “The spirits granted you a vision. You are fortunate for this blessing. Tell me what you saw.”
Blessing? It certainly didn’t feel like one. “I’m... not sure what I saw,” she admitted. “We were in a cavern in the Maze. The walls looked as though they had been scraped clean, and so I...” how the hell was she supposed to explain that she had used some sort of power to look past that? “I was looking at the wall, and it... sort of came to life. I saw what was painted on the wall before, but as though it was happening, right then.
It was as though someone had opened up the floodgates. It was easy, after that, to relive the maelstrom of colour, of conflicting emotions she was sure belonged to someone else. She found herself telling Running Bear about the strange voice that had told the story of the Reckoning, about Raven and the terrible forces he had unleashed upon the land, about his unquenchable thirst for vengeance against those who had slaughtered his people. She talked for what felt like hours, trying to explain what she had seen, what she had been before, what she had become. She talked, astonished by the words that came tumbling from her like pebbles in an avalanche: the grief and pain and frustration, the surprising satisfaction and even the occasional absurd pleasure that came from being dead and yet still alive, caught between two world.
She talked until she exhausted all her words, and silence fell once again. She sat quite still next to Running Bear, no longer feeling any urge at all to move or fidget. She simply waited, hands folded in her lap, to hear what he would say.
At length he spoke, choosing his words with care. “You know everything you need to know. There is very little I can tell you about this that you have not already been shown. You understand, then, that you are possessed by a great host of Manitous, and that they will use your body as an earthly vessel to cause great harm?”
“I know.”
“You know, too, that the Manitous grant you power -power greater than any living being possesses. You can use this power, should you wish to.”
She bit her lip. “But they can use it too, can’t they?”
“They can. Inevitably, they will gain dominion over your body. They will not be content with taking power from you temporarily. Every night, already, you battle them in your dreams. You are stronger than most, for you still have some control over your actions. But the day will come when you will have no dominion over yourself anymore.”
Vicky closed her eyes. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her existence? Would she wage a losing battle until the time came when she would be a prisoner of her own body, forced to watch as the demons inside her wreaked whatever havoc they pleased on the rest of the world? Was that what Monroe had been trying to do, to spare her, when he’d tried to end her existence? She came to her senses with a jolt, realizing that Running Bear was speaking to her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Running Bear frowned disapprovingly at her. “I asked if you wish to remain as you are.”
She shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” She paused. “Are you saying I have a choice?”
He stared at her, his expression impenetrable. “There is always a choice. The Manitous will prevent you from taking any action that would harm them, but I can provide you with the help you require. Be warned: it may come at too high a price for you. I will return before sunset to hear your answer.”
Without another word he rose to his feet and left her alone in the darkness, too stunned even to speak. She wanted to call after him, but it was too late. She settled in to wait, ignoring the familiar whisperings and flutterings in her mind that grew ever more frantic with every passing moment. There was no question in her mind, never had been. She sat very still, hands folded in her lap, smiling at the demons’ impotence. When Running Bear returned, she was ready and waiting.
“I have made my decision,” she said in a calm, clear voice. “I want this to end, once and for all.”
*****