[story] snake in the sand
author: naoko kensaku (mistressnaoko)
email: beta.read.edit [ at ] gmail dot com
I leant against the door, looking at the sunlit world from the darkness of the entranceway. As I looked at the vast wasteland ahead of me, I was aware of the pain in my body and the small kernel of fear within that said I would not make it across the desert. The sands looked unusually hot to my eyes, the shimmering waves of heat promising to bake whatever liquids I still had in my body. My mind, treacherous as it was, reminded me that the walk here had been long, painful, and lonely.
I was not afraid of the loneliness, but that there would be no one to catch me if I fell while walking.
I could not, would not, stay in that doorway forever. Biting my lip, I forced my legs to shuffle forward. Pain shot up my sides, my broken right hand, and squeezed both my feet and legs horribly. I could not feel my right fingers, and I did not dare to look at them. Once I moved, I focused on keeping my legs lifted, one ahead of the other, even as I limped. I looked towards the horizon, and told myself a horrible, but necessary lie.
"It’s just 200 steps to the nearest town." I wanted to whisper, but my lips were cracked. My throat was dry.
I was thirsty, and I was shuffling forward under the full strength of the late morning sun, with the hot, clay-baking heat of the afternoon to come not long after. I did not want to admit it to myself, but the kernel of fear within me did not think we would make it through to the next dawn. I refused to acknowledge those thoughts. I focused on my steps, instead, so the sand would not trip me.
With each step, I found it easy to keep going in the same direction: to count to 150, stop, breathe, and then shuffle a bit, so that the sun that was on my right shoulder would instead touch my back or would set towards my left. Only when the chill came upon me did I realise the sun had gone down and I was alone.
The night came quickly. During the day, the heat had burned my skin, stabbing me with tiny pinpricks anywhere that was not covered by torn leather and skin. Now the night air chilled me, getting into my wounds, yet cooling my broken right arm that had begun to swell.
I looked up into the sky and stared for a long time, not moving, allowing the wind to irritate me. It was cold, but cold was better than hot, and I knew that if I kept moving, the thirst would not be so bad. I found the North Star and began to walk.
As I did, I found myself wishing for a cup of water, or any liquid that would quench the dry, sharp, burning thirst in my throat. The last time I had had a sip of water, it had been within that castle, as we prepared ourselves to face our enemy. My mind shied away from the memory.
Swallowing around a dry throat, I kept walking. I could make myself move a little bit faster than before, I thought, because my body now ignored the pain in my feet. It was mechanical, this movement, and so my mind wandered to the fight that had given me my scars and wounds: the fight that had killed the other adventurers who had come with me.
There were shadows in my mind. They flitted around me, obscuring the moon from time to time. The others had been with me when I fought the demon. They had been valiant, but ultimately foolish. The slaughter had been... magnificent. Brutal, but somehow... artistic. The ones who had given the most resistance, even in the monster's hands, had been dispatched quickly. The ones who had not had suffered as he drew out their screams: long, high-pitched, pain-filled screams.
I shook my head to clear it of the cobwebs. Walk. Left, right, left, right. One step at a time. The memories could come later. I would deal with them later. I had to lock my emotions away if I wanted to survive.
I stumbled and fell. The sand hit me hard but it was not unpleasant. Some got into my nose, but I was beyond caring. I closed my eyes. The darkness overcame me warmly.
"Open your eyes," a familiar voice boomed.
I opened my eyes to see a pair of black eyes staring at me from a white face. Instinctively I moved backwards, but there was nowhere for me to escape to. I could not move my body or even turn my head to escape the eyes that held me in thrall. Still, I fought against it. .
"Did you think it would be that easy to escape me?" The eyes moved backwards, and I could see the face they belonged to.
"You will pay the price!" the voice hissed, or rather, the woman. She had olive green-tinged skin but a pale yellow face; yellow irises within black eyes. I shivered in fear. Never had I seen such a monster. Yet there was a familiarity about her, a familiarity that spoke of warm beds, cold swords, and delicious meals. I knew her.
"You will die, and when you do, you will pay ten thousand times for what you have done to me!" she hissed, and then I found myself falling. The darkness overcame me again.
I opened my eyes to see hooves in front of me. From the sounds of it, there was more than one horse and rider, and as another pair of front hooves came into view, I heard them speak.
"This one’s dead," a gruff voice spoke.
"We don’t know for sure," another voice spoke. "He might have come from the Castle in the Desert. In that cause it would be better to leave him where he is and continue."
"Nothing that comes from that castle is good," an older and gentler voice spoke. Yet his words betrayed his fear.
I struggled to move, to speak. It took all the effort I could muster to even raise my hands, and I was rewarded with a curse and shouts of fear for my efforts. I let my hand fall because the riders had, in their surprise, said the words I wanted to hear:
"It’s alive!"
One of them got off his horse and came towards me. He roughly turned me over onto my back to get a good look at me. I caught just a glimpse of the purple sky before blacking out from the pain.
"I will not let you get away with this!" the female’s voice penetrated my consciousness. I knew now that it meant I was dreaming.
"I will hunt you, and I will kill you! Your soul will be mine!" I did not open my eyes. The venom in her voice was more than enough to convey her intent. "I will flay the skin from your body, and then I will extract your soul from it! You do not deserve that vessel!" she screamed, and with a jolt, I opened my eyes to find myself in a tent.
The ceiling was red, decorated with gold trimmings and hangings. The smell of strong herbs assaulted my nose. A tinkle of bells approached me. I turned my head towards it. Dainty small feet, painted in intricate patterns, came towards me. The bells were from her ankles.
I looked up at the owner of the feet, who sat at my side. She seemed not to notice I was awake, instead taking a towel from a basin nearby to wipe first my face, then my neck, torso and arms. Her hands did not go below my waist. The water was refreshing and tinged with something that cooled my skin. When she was done, she left, and someone else came in. I had made no attempt to do anything else but turn my head since then.
"Change your clothes and come out," was all the man said before turning to leave me.
It was then I realised that my body no longer ached and hurt. I sat up in a hurry as the man left, and examined myself. I ran my hands all over my body, ensuring that the hurt was gone. There were no scars on my upper right arm, where it was wounded badly just a few days ago. Neither did my chest hurt, nor my back, nor even my legs. I threw the blanket off and carefully got to my feet. I felt as good as new.
Moving to the spot indicated by the man, I discovered they had set out a pair of loose pants and an open-chested top. As I pulled on the pants, my eyes caught sight of the mirror and I walked over. The reflection that stared back at me was unfamiliar.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stared at me, with twinkling grey eyes, and a mass of shoulder-length black hair. A day’s stubble stood on his chin. I rubbed the hook nose; it felt odd to see my reflection do the same. I was well-built and sturdy. Turning around, I had to examine myself and see if there were any signs of the fight that had killed my teammates.
As I turned, my eyes caught sight of something dark on my back. Turning to the mirror, I discovered a large tattoo behind my shoulder blades, of a snake with wings. The snake was green, while the wings were black. A sharp pain hit my head as my eyes roamed over the snake, and I remembered.
They had entered my domain where I was asleep. It was not the first time adventurers had dared my lair, but this group had been especially tenacious. After defeating their best fighters, I had taken my time to play with them. The more cowardly ones had screamed the most, begging to worship me if only I would let them go. The brave ones had merely gazed at me defiantly. Those I dispatched quickly.
After I had finished playing with them, I had gone back to sleep. It was then this man had thought to kill me, to claim my head for his own when his friends could not. He failed, but I discovered that his body was unusually tough. It had not taken long for me to transfer my spirit to his body and vice versa. When I had regained consciousness, the serpent was asleep and I was not. I escaped but forgot what had happened.
Now I had my memory. And I was finally free of that prison. I smiled. The world would know of Honoyeta again!
the end
email: beta.read.edit [ at ] gmail dot com
I leant against the door, looking at the sunlit world from the darkness of the entranceway. As I looked at the vast wasteland ahead of me, I was aware of the pain in my body and the small kernel of fear within that said I would not make it across the desert. The sands looked unusually hot to my eyes, the shimmering waves of heat promising to bake whatever liquids I still had in my body. My mind, treacherous as it was, reminded me that the walk here had been long, painful, and lonely.
I was not afraid of the loneliness, but that there would be no one to catch me if I fell while walking.
I could not, would not, stay in that doorway forever. Biting my lip, I forced my legs to shuffle forward. Pain shot up my sides, my broken right hand, and squeezed both my feet and legs horribly. I could not feel my right fingers, and I did not dare to look at them. Once I moved, I focused on keeping my legs lifted, one ahead of the other, even as I limped. I looked towards the horizon, and told myself a horrible, but necessary lie.
"It’s just 200 steps to the nearest town." I wanted to whisper, but my lips were cracked. My throat was dry.
I was thirsty, and I was shuffling forward under the full strength of the late morning sun, with the hot, clay-baking heat of the afternoon to come not long after. I did not want to admit it to myself, but the kernel of fear within me did not think we would make it through to the next dawn. I refused to acknowledge those thoughts. I focused on my steps, instead, so the sand would not trip me.
With each step, I found it easy to keep going in the same direction: to count to 150, stop, breathe, and then shuffle a bit, so that the sun that was on my right shoulder would instead touch my back or would set towards my left. Only when the chill came upon me did I realise the sun had gone down and I was alone.
The night came quickly. During the day, the heat had burned my skin, stabbing me with tiny pinpricks anywhere that was not covered by torn leather and skin. Now the night air chilled me, getting into my wounds, yet cooling my broken right arm that had begun to swell.
I looked up into the sky and stared for a long time, not moving, allowing the wind to irritate me. It was cold, but cold was better than hot, and I knew that if I kept moving, the thirst would not be so bad. I found the North Star and began to walk.
As I did, I found myself wishing for a cup of water, or any liquid that would quench the dry, sharp, burning thirst in my throat. The last time I had had a sip of water, it had been within that castle, as we prepared ourselves to face our enemy. My mind shied away from the memory.
Swallowing around a dry throat, I kept walking. I could make myself move a little bit faster than before, I thought, because my body now ignored the pain in my feet. It was mechanical, this movement, and so my mind wandered to the fight that had given me my scars and wounds: the fight that had killed the other adventurers who had come with me.
There were shadows in my mind. They flitted around me, obscuring the moon from time to time. The others had been with me when I fought the demon. They had been valiant, but ultimately foolish. The slaughter had been... magnificent. Brutal, but somehow... artistic. The ones who had given the most resistance, even in the monster's hands, had been dispatched quickly. The ones who had not had suffered as he drew out their screams: long, high-pitched, pain-filled screams.
I shook my head to clear it of the cobwebs. Walk. Left, right, left, right. One step at a time. The memories could come later. I would deal with them later. I had to lock my emotions away if I wanted to survive.
I stumbled and fell. The sand hit me hard but it was not unpleasant. Some got into my nose, but I was beyond caring. I closed my eyes. The darkness overcame me warmly.
"Open your eyes," a familiar voice boomed.
I opened my eyes to see a pair of black eyes staring at me from a white face. Instinctively I moved backwards, but there was nowhere for me to escape to. I could not move my body or even turn my head to escape the eyes that held me in thrall. Still, I fought against it. .
"Did you think it would be that easy to escape me?" The eyes moved backwards, and I could see the face they belonged to.
"You will pay the price!" the voice hissed, or rather, the woman. She had olive green-tinged skin but a pale yellow face; yellow irises within black eyes. I shivered in fear. Never had I seen such a monster. Yet there was a familiarity about her, a familiarity that spoke of warm beds, cold swords, and delicious meals. I knew her.
"You will die, and when you do, you will pay ten thousand times for what you have done to me!" she hissed, and then I found myself falling. The darkness overcame me again.
I opened my eyes to see hooves in front of me. From the sounds of it, there was more than one horse and rider, and as another pair of front hooves came into view, I heard them speak.
"This one’s dead," a gruff voice spoke.
"We don’t know for sure," another voice spoke. "He might have come from the Castle in the Desert. In that cause it would be better to leave him where he is and continue."
"Nothing that comes from that castle is good," an older and gentler voice spoke. Yet his words betrayed his fear.
I struggled to move, to speak. It took all the effort I could muster to even raise my hands, and I was rewarded with a curse and shouts of fear for my efforts. I let my hand fall because the riders had, in their surprise, said the words I wanted to hear:
"It’s alive!"
One of them got off his horse and came towards me. He roughly turned me over onto my back to get a good look at me. I caught just a glimpse of the purple sky before blacking out from the pain.
"I will not let you get away with this!" the female’s voice penetrated my consciousness. I knew now that it meant I was dreaming.
"I will hunt you, and I will kill you! Your soul will be mine!" I did not open my eyes. The venom in her voice was more than enough to convey her intent. "I will flay the skin from your body, and then I will extract your soul from it! You do not deserve that vessel!" she screamed, and with a jolt, I opened my eyes to find myself in a tent.
The ceiling was red, decorated with gold trimmings and hangings. The smell of strong herbs assaulted my nose. A tinkle of bells approached me. I turned my head towards it. Dainty small feet, painted in intricate patterns, came towards me. The bells were from her ankles.
I looked up at the owner of the feet, who sat at my side. She seemed not to notice I was awake, instead taking a towel from a basin nearby to wipe first my face, then my neck, torso and arms. Her hands did not go below my waist. The water was refreshing and tinged with something that cooled my skin. When she was done, she left, and someone else came in. I had made no attempt to do anything else but turn my head since then.
"Change your clothes and come out," was all the man said before turning to leave me.
It was then I realised that my body no longer ached and hurt. I sat up in a hurry as the man left, and examined myself. I ran my hands all over my body, ensuring that the hurt was gone. There were no scars on my upper right arm, where it was wounded badly just a few days ago. Neither did my chest hurt, nor my back, nor even my legs. I threw the blanket off and carefully got to my feet. I felt as good as new.
Moving to the spot indicated by the man, I discovered they had set out a pair of loose pants and an open-chested top. As I pulled on the pants, my eyes caught sight of the mirror and I walked over. The reflection that stared back at me was unfamiliar.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stared at me, with twinkling grey eyes, and a mass of shoulder-length black hair. A day’s stubble stood on his chin. I rubbed the hook nose; it felt odd to see my reflection do the same. I was well-built and sturdy. Turning around, I had to examine myself and see if there were any signs of the fight that had killed my teammates.
As I turned, my eyes caught sight of something dark on my back. Turning to the mirror, I discovered a large tattoo behind my shoulder blades, of a snake with wings. The snake was green, while the wings were black. A sharp pain hit my head as my eyes roamed over the snake, and I remembered.
They had entered my domain where I was asleep. It was not the first time adventurers had dared my lair, but this group had been especially tenacious. After defeating their best fighters, I had taken my time to play with them. The more cowardly ones had screamed the most, begging to worship me if only I would let them go. The brave ones had merely gazed at me defiantly. Those I dispatched quickly.
After I had finished playing with them, I had gone back to sleep. It was then this man had thought to kill me, to claim my head for his own when his friends could not. He failed, but I discovered that his body was unusually tough. It had not taken long for me to transfer my spirit to his body and vice versa. When I had regained consciousness, the serpent was asleep and I was not. I escaped but forgot what had happened.
Now I had my memory. And I was finally free of that prison. I smiled. The world would know of Honoyeta again!
the end