Words Unspoken

A fantasy story, about voices, names, and taking things that you don't own.

“A pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be so quiet. What’s your name sweetie?”

The pub smelled of rich smoke, but it couldn’t cover the scent of a thick heady perfume of a man trying to cover something. I looked up from my book and smiled shyly, brushing a orange lock of hair behind my ear.

“Come now dear. Don’t keep me in anticipation.”

My face flushed with embarrassment. I parted my lips showing him the thick scarred stump where my tongue had once been.

He concealed the shock in his face poorly. I turned away trying to conceal the redness of my face. His shock was quickly replaced with a smug self satisfied look. That costume fit him better than anything else he wore. He was dressed in a shirt that had once been made of fine fabric, but poorly cared for it now looked like the hide of a mangy fox, and trousers so tight one could discern his mood through them.

“Ah, the perfect woman then?” He chewed the line.

My soul sighed but while my lips pressed together doing my best to smile at him

“Let me buy you a drink my silent beauty.” He rubbed his thick stubbled neck then raised his hand to the barman. It didn’t seem to concern him that I hadn’t agreed. Unsurprising but a good thing to keep in mind. Men can be predictable. To call his motives transparent would be an insult to the soapy window that served as the bars only light source.

The barman placed the two small cups, filled to there brim. I fumbled a coin from my satchel. “Please!” he burst “I won’t have you paying for a drink in my establishment.” The Barman’s face flushed incredulously as to say Your establishment?! but thought better of it. I took my cue, smiling and blushing and fumbling the coin back into my satchel it fell to the ground with a rhythmic tink, tink, tink. So damned clumsy sometimes.

“Let me my dear” he shot under the table before the last word was out of his mouth. Sweet chivalry, you are so kind. He returned a moment later presenting the coin on the table in front of me. My fingers were cool on the glass as I raised it in a salute. I tipped my head back as the sweet liquor burned my throat. It tasted like honey. Not bad… Maybe I’ve been to hard on my friend Bocc.

“A woman after my own heart.” He tipped his glass back and drained in the rehearsed manner of a chronic imbiber. He looked at me with a knowing grin.

“I’m Bocc” He wiped the some liquor from his chin.

“How would you like to see my room?” You have to respect his confidence. I smiled and blushed demurely. He stood, grabbed my hand and led me to the wooden stairs by the bar. At the topped the thick haze of smoke came up and wrapped around me. This dress would be ruined with the smell. Although, I supposed I wouldn’t be wearing it much longer either way. We walked down a hallway of intently closed doors. Solomon led me to the end and pulled a skeleton key from his pocket. He slid the rusty old thing into the ornate lock and turned it making a satisfying click.

The room was considerably more comfortable then I had imagined. Curtains doing there best to block the crimson light of the setting sun. Lots of pillows, what looked like a feather bed and a single plush chair next to an old wooden desk and stool, all soaked in the same rich fragrance. Perhaps a bit garish, but people in this part of the world rarely had good taste.

I had little more than finished my initial survey before I was pushed up against the wall. He pressed his face against mine greedily. Storming my undefended mouth with a tongue that could only be described as belligerent. With him so close now I could discovered the thin layer of unpleasantness all that perfume had been covering. It was the type of smell I imagine is hard to wash off. I let him finish his business and pulled back pushing him back coyly. The distance was welcome on quite a few fronts. I felt a soft tingling numbness on my lips. Seriously? I had perhaps been a bit hasty on the chivalry bit.

He smiled, bearing his teeth like an angry dog. He proudly pulled down his pants. Furiously taught in some places while comically sagging in others. Unable to help myself I purred a small giggle. I cocked his head and suddenly looked very confused, his eyes seeming to focus somewhere in the space between us. And like that his knees buckled and he fell head first onto the floor.

This is so typical… I had switched our drinks out of habit. I had taken such lengths to look willing and ready. Truly he was a singularly unpleasant lot. I pulled the knife from inside my dress and stood over him considering. I had planned on stabbing him. I stared at him for a moment, face down, pants around his ankles. That would have been satisfying. I took the knife instead to the bodice of my dress. Cutting it and the skirt away revealed a slim fitted pair of tan homespun trousers that fell just above my caves. I pulled a patched dark green shirt over my head. S**t. I had forgotten extra shoes.

I padded barefoot over to Bocc’s desk. I began opening drawers riffling through papers, ledgers, pens, a book of poetry (Hmm a romantic at heart after all). I placed the book on the desk and it made an incriminating rattle. I opened it and instead of the romantic musings of Donne (as the cover would have you believe) it was filled with an assortment of shiny, seemingly expensive, and assuredly stolen items. I grabbed what I needed. A broach, made of what I thought might be ivory. Or at least what I thought ivory might look like. One thing was certain. It was quite old. There were little outward signs of wear or aging but you could tell. The weight of it, the smooth way it felt in your hands, the smell of it. It was the type of thing no one living could remember wearing.

I had sold it to one of Bocc’s fences not two days ago. As a thief there is a rule of thumb. You do not steal from clients. Professional courtesy. I looked at it again. So unassuming. More damned trouble then 10 sterlings worth, thats for sure. In any case I needed it back. Desperately. I stowed it in my satchel. Now was not a time for reflection.

I walked to the window. I caught my image in the glass. I ran my hands through my hair. People always talk about fire red hair while mine was a pedestrian orange. I tied it back in a tail.I pulled it open, creaking with disuse. Fresh air. Mmmm, that’s good. I grabbed my satchel and threw it over my shoulder. I swung one leg over the window sill straddling it for a moment, looking out across the town.

Corrowaugh was an un-extraordinary place. A patchwork of ramshackle buildings stitched together by a seamstress who hadn’t quite mastered her craft. Originally a port, or so I had been told. I looked out across the bay. The setting sun danced on the undisturbed mirror the water. It seemed to me that few ships stopped here anymore.

I reached out grabbing the eaves and pulled myself onto the roof. From here I could see to the edge of the city. And then the Barrens. Where I was going. Slowly I padded over to the edge of the roof planning out my route. My feet felt good on the cool dewy shingles and I breathed in the indigo sky. Behind me I heard someone speaking, calm and then very much not so. And then they were screaming. The scared type of screaming and then the angry type of screaming. And then there were others shouting. It sounded like orders.

I suppose that’s my cue. I backed up preparing to run. I fixed my sights on the nearby rooftop and took off. Slow at first but increasing my stride steadily. Behind me a man was climbing up onto the roof. He shouted something at me but I didn’t turn to listen, imagining it would be less than constructive. I reached the edge of the roof at a full sprint and leapt.

It was at this point, approximately one moment to late, I realized the roof to which I was jumping was just a bit to far.

Moments later I found myself lying not he ground. My head felt wet. Had it been raining? What had I been doing? Who were those men in the alleyway shouting? Why is it so hard to focus? Are they shouting at me? I grouped around feeling for my satchel. Right. I should leave.

As I stood a current of pain shot through my chest. I stumbled for a moment but started to move slow but steadily. That’s probably not good. I forced myself into a trot and then a run. Pain can be so manageable when you accept it’s not going away. I darted down an alleyway trying to avoid Bocc’s friends running at a full sprint. Dashing boxes and vagrants and whatever I could behind me to slow them for even a second

Panting. I turned down a larger street. My chest felt like there was a swarm of very angry wasps inside of it. I kept running. Then something hit me. Then I was on the ground wrestling and clawing. Bocc’s friend smiled trying to force me down. He had flanked me and now he was on top of me hitting me. I fought back in hot bursts of fear and anger. I could feel the blows striking my face but the pain in my chest took precedence. He stood up and called to his friend. straddling what, I suppose he imagined, was a sufficiently broken woman. Sweet chivalry, you are so kind. I forced my knee up between his legs as hard as I could manage. Even through bloody broken eyes the look of shock turning into white hot pain was delicious. He fell on top of me doing his best to pin me even in his evident misery. I grabbed the nearest bit of flesh I could find and sunk my teeth in like like a beggar given a loaf of warm bread. I heard another scream and my mouth was filled with blood, thick and metallic and salty. He rolled off of me cursing clutching his bloody mess of a shoulder. I stumbled to my feet doing my best to survey my surroundings. Swaying as the street heaved and surged under my feet. Bocc’s colleagues had spotted me and were shouting and heading towards me. I tried to get my bearings. D****t, why was it so hard to focus?

I scoured the street for anything. A slanted building set off to itself with a horseshoe nailed door. Stables. I was near the edge of town. That was good. I started moving again, toward the building, every step a labor.

I pushed through the large barn doors. A loan man stood brushing a palfrey and turned to me. “Can I help you with something ma’am”. I stumbled towards him, barely able to keep up right. As I made my way into the lamplight of the stables he caught a glimpse of my condition. I can only imagine how I must have looked to him. Bloodied and broken.

The shock and disgust was plain in his face. “Who did this to you?”

On cue my pursuers burst through the door.

“Excuse me lads this is a private establishment”

One of the men spoke up. “That’s all well and good. We’ll just be taking that little lady with us and then we’ll be leaving. We’ve got no worry with you Art. Do not give us cause for one.”

The man pushed me behind him with one arm. Art? I suppose they knew him. Somehow I didn’t think that would help matters for either of us.

“Look whatever the disagreement I think we can handle this like gentlemen. There’s no cause for violence. Especially against a lady.” Now in the full light I could see Art’s face. He was younger than I had imagined. Strong jawed and blond I imagine some women fancied him quite handsome.

My pursuers started closing the distance.

“D****t boys now lets take a minute for everyone to calm down” Trying to protect me when he should be protecting himself, very chivalrous. A beautiful fool. But even fools have use. I took every reserve of energy I had in my body and threw myself on to the horse. I smacked it’s hind quarters as hard as I could and it bolted towards the open door. I managed to ride down one of the pursuers and the others followed in vain as the old horse galloped furiously away from the lamp light of those few buildings at the edge of town. Off into the indigo darkness of the Barrens.

The furious beat of the riding did little for my injuries and I held on to the reins as best I could. The darkness narrowed around my vision as I galloped off into the barrens. Off into the darkness.

That went pretty well.

. . .

There was a rock digging into my rib. I reoriented myself in an attempt to get comfortable. To fall back asleep. It wouldn’t work. There was someone driving nails into my skull. What they lacked in skill with a hammer they made up with fervent enthusiasm. No it just felt that way. I tried to open my eyes but they were caked with something. I reached up to wipe away the crusted substance and was greeted by a sharp pain in my side. Ahh… yes, that’s right. With slow deliberate moment to clean my face opening my eyes although the left one was swollen to a point where it wouldn’t do so completely. I sat up and tried to stretch away the stiffness from my body. All things considered it could have been worse. A black eye, a gashes on my forehead and cheek, what appeared to be a cracked rib. Injuries with which could walk away. My head still rang and that concerned me, but I decided it was best not to focus it. Anyway, it was still quite hard to focus. I stuck my finger in my mouth feeling around my teeth. All the ones I started the night with. I reached out and felt the soft worn leather of my satchel. I smiled to myself.

A net gain.

I stood up and surveyed my surroundings. Lots of stone, rolling dunes of sand, a few dead or dying trees peppered across the horizon. The town was no where in sight. Wait, hadn’t I had a horse. I looked around and there was no sign, he had apparently cut his losses and gone home. Fair enough.

I smoothed my hair back combing what dried blood I could out with my fingers. How long have I been out here? God I’m thirsty. Describing a dry mouth without a tongue is quite difficult. Although I suppose so is everything else. I chuckled to myself. From the snapper quality in the back of my throat it had been a descent bit of time. As the breaths left my body so did my energy. I knelt down and felt like I was going to vomit. I didn’t. I don’t think my body contained enough of the component pieces. I crawled to my satchel and riffled through it looking for anything liquid.

Always everything except for what I need.

I stood up again. A few deep breaths. I began to walk. Slowly an deliberately. No direction in particular. Anywhere was better than here. Well mostly anywhere. I shuffled through the sand, bare feet slapping against griddle hot stone, walking and walking. After a while the slow and steady undulations of the dunes began to blend together. They were hypnotic and, I thought to myself, somewhat beautiful. God I was becoming delirious. The sun crept across the sky as if to match my pace.

And then I saw it.

A pool. Oblong and beautiful. My head was filled with all those stories of people dying in the desert. Seeing their shimmering salvation off in the distance. S**t. What was that called? I suppose it didn’t really matter. A second glance of the sad shallow little pool filled with stagnant brown water made me think my mind would create something a bit more aesthetically pleasing. I began to run, as best I could manage. I had barely reached the edge when my body collapsed with pleasure face first into the stagnate brown salvation. I laid for as long as I could stand, contemplating whether it was worth turning over to breathe. I relented and flipped on my back and sat up. I cleaned my hair and my face. I scrubbed the matted blood from my clothes and sat drinking what handfuls I dared. Completely and utterly content.

I sat bathing and drinking for a good while. The sun moved quite a bit and the sky eventually took on a pinkish hue. I cupped the water in my hands drizzling it over the back of my neck, still marveling at how good it felt, when I heard there voices. How rarely this leads to anything good. I lowered my body hoping to avoid being seen and scanned the horizon. Nothing.

“Hello there”

The voice came from directly behind me. I should have seen that coming…

I started and turned around almost involuntarily. There was a stout man bald man with a poorly kept mustache astride a horse. He looked over me. One eye fiercely blue and one milky and translucent. Next to him stood an exceptionally large man, nearly as tall as the other yet he had no horse. His features were round and soft and his head was exceptionally large, even sitting atop such a large body.

“ Mim said you were a mirage” S**t. Mirage… of course. “Is there anything worse than a pessimist.”

I started to move toward my satchel, sitting at the edge of the pool. The large man jiggled his blade partially from it’s sheath. Just enough to show the steel.

“The man threatening your life there is Mim. Not much for sage counsel but he’s better than nothing I suppose. And there are so many uses for such a sizable companion.” The man atop the horse mad a courtly bow, which looked foolish sitting astride. “And I my dear beauty am Furious.”

“It’s ironic” croaked Mim. “Because he’s so small”

“Yes Mim, thank you for the input”

“And generally…. What’s the word? Not scary…”

Furious ground his teeth “Yes at any matter…”

“Un-intim-idating… that’s it”

“Yes! Thank you!” Furious shouted turning an unflattering shade of crimson.

Mim walked over and grabbed my bag and tossed it to the Furious who had now dismounted. He turned it up letting it’s contents fall to the ground.

“Hmm nothing especially valuable looking.” He riffled his hand through the bags many pockets. “Oh and what is this?” He pulled out the broach turning it in his spider like fingers.

He looked at me waiting for an explanation or perhaps a plea. “A quite one, eh?”

Mim looked me over “I think she’s a mute”

“Hmm, unfortunate. I’m such a fan of articulate women. Well… beggars and choosers and all that.”

I sat on the ground looking up at him as he walked over to me. He leaned over me inching closer and closer to my face. “I assume you realize we’ll be taking this.” his breath smelled of pickles and honey. He turned to Mim grinning “Among other things…” He turned back to me and I met his eye. He smiled and I studied him. I turned to Mim miming a writing motion with my hands and then pointed to where my satchels contents lay on the ground.

“I think she has something to say”

He walked over to the pile and picked up a small thin piece of slate and a bundle of white chalk.

I scratched in large block letters so they could see. “I can show you where I found that.”

We reached the place just as the last bits of sun were melting into the horizon. At first you just saw the cliff rising incredulously out of the the uniform ground. A pock on the otherwise smooth complexion of the barrenside. As you got closer the evidence of people became more apparent. Tall structures nestled up against the cliffside, some build directly into the stone. As the buildings spread out from the rock they became smaller and less magnificent until the sand of the barrens consumed everything.

“What is this place?” Mim turned to Furious incredulously. Funny how men who styled themselves Barrendwellers had seen so little of the actual place. Preferring instead to live on the outskirts of towns like Corrowaugh and pray on the souls to foolish enough to wonder into the desert.

We passed through the buildings. A wide highway that led to the center of the city. The buildings around us made from a uniform and smooth stone. From the lowest hollows to the most magnificent, all built from the same parts.

Unlike the dirty and infested streets of Corrowaugh this place was so very clean, any sign of the people who had once been here had been washed away. It was silent. Not a typical silence. Wind blowing through buildings, the receptive cadence of breathing, even those things were gone. Like something was missing, the soft dull hum of existence. Like a man newly deaf. Or perhaps the sound a mute thief makes. It was a hole. One that needed to be filled. So I began to hum something soft and old and comforting.

“Would you stop that” Furious turned viciously, voice blowing the dust off of everything. At that moment I realized that somehow the center of the city had snuck up on us. The cliff stood before us beautiful and enormous. And yet it was terrifying, the air around us had become quite cold. I looked ahead and there was the cave. An unnatural schism in the smooth cave wall. A greedy gaping and unnatural maw. Just large enough for a man.

Upon entering the maw it became clear this was the source of the sudden change in temperature. It had moved from a brisk chill to being downright cold. The passage was the same smooth stone. There was an apparent dampness, though no evident source of water could be seen. Where the surrounding city had been so deathly silent there was a great cacophony to the passage. It beat against your ears and chest, although it seemed impossible to distinguish the source of the particular sounds. Perhaps rushing water? Blowing wind? perhaps something else?

The passage narrowed. “This better be worth it” Furious piped behind me. The passage kept getting smaller. “It won’t be good for you if you try something clever…” I lost the thread of his words. The air had become thick and I couldn’t focus. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Not again. All the terrible things in the world descended on me. My heart soured like milk and I thought for a moment I couldn’t go on. I went to one knee. Furious said something but all I could focus on was my breathing. This will pass. I said it to myself like a chant. Believing it less each time I said it. And then I breathed in all of it burned away like morning fog. I realized Furious had stopped talking and then I realized why.

We had exited the passage and were now in the chamber. I stood and looked around. It was large, so large that one imagined the majority of the cliff they were now in had hollowed out make it. She had been here before but it still shocked her.

“Wow” Mim spoke in reverent hushed tone. Around the edges of the room there were many sources of water. A few small waterfalls, natural springs and the other innumerable ways water flows through the earth. While there origin seemed natural their flows had been corralled into ornate spiral patterns across the floor of the cavern. Spiraling concentrically towards the center.

“Yes it is lovely” Furious turned to me “But not why we’re here”

The cavern was large end to end but it’s ceiling was easily twice as high. At the exact center of the domed ceiling was a small, from this distance, seemingly pin sized skylight surrounded by a deep deep and unnatural darkness.

I pointed to the center of the chamber. There awash with moonlight, where all the elaborate spiraling streams met was an island and at its center was a smooth stone coffin.

Furious and Mim splashed through the the streams to the island like children to their birthday present. I followed behind them. As I reached the island they stood on the two ends of the casket.

“I suppose the goodies are inside. Well then off with the lid” At first glance it was merely a slab of stone, so common in the vicinity. Upon further examination at the edges there were grooves cut around the edges. Not unlike those that made the streams at my feet.

Wholly lacking in reverence or tact Furious and Mim slid the lid of the casket. It fell to the ground with an appropriate thud. Inside there was body of a young women. Dressed in a rags that had once been white made yellow with age. Her body had not faired any better. Dry and shriveled like a peach left out in the sun. She was surrounded by treasures. I could almost see Furious’ face in a cut gemstone laying by her hollow face, repeated over and over drooling and muttering in post orgasmic bliss.

And then it woke.

The darkness above us stirred and wriggled. Like a cloud of flies fighting over a pile of dung. I could hear whispering and buzzing, while my companions stared on oblivious.

And then it spoke.

One takes, One gives a debt is paid the same

Some dies, Some live, a debt to which I claim.

Little more than a whisper.The voice came from the darkness around the pinhole of light. But I don’t think they heard. Or at least they made no response. Furious pulled two sacks from I don’t know where and handed one to Furious. They began scooping gems and coins hungrily, stuffing them into there respective sacks.

Furious reached down and stroked a gemstone with the tips of his fingers. Out of the darkness descended it’s tentacles, too numerous to count so black they looked flat. They coiled around the looters enveloping them. Worming there way under there skin. And yet Furious and Mim took no notice. Their eyes only reflecting the riches they stuffed in there ever filling sacks.

Furious scooped the last ring onto his finger. “Well my dear it has certainly been a pleasure.” He threw the sack over his shoulder and motioned to Mim. “See that she’s unable to go telling stories Mim my boy.”

“But…”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. Deal with her.”

“Right…” With little pageantry Mim unsheathed his sword.

My body tensed and my eyes darted surveying my options. “No reason to make this more difficult than it has to be. I’ll make it quick dear.”

Furious began walking back to the tunnel, his back turned to me. He stumbled a bit, splashing up the water at his feet. He stood still considering for a moment and then reached in his mouth and presented a tooth for all to see. He examined it for a long moment, as if not quite sure who’s it might be, and then bent over retching as his brown teeth clacked and clicked as they hit the floor. He turned vomit on his lips and shouted something in comprehensible.

“What did you do to him?!” Mim shouted through tears. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” His tears were streaked with crimson now. I heard Furious scream from across the cavern his hands clutching his thick mane and coming down with thick patches of hair. Mim began walking towards me“I swear to god I’ll kill…” and like one might do to a prawn all the bits under his skin were sucked away in one horrible second. Mim rattled as he hit the floor, little more than a bag of bones.

Furious had stumbled over to me by the tomb. Or what was left him. He tried to say something but his body didn’t contain enough of the component pieces. He fell to the ground doing the best to clutch onto his sack like even now I might steal it from him.

I stood and ran my fingers across the coffin, tracing the outline of the smooth stone. I reached down to the pile of rags and other things, what was left of Furious, reaching in it’s pocket. I pulled the broach. Heavy and smooth, I turned it in my hand. I could felt it’s breath on the back of my neck.

One Take, One gives a debt is paid the same

Some dies, Some live, your debt is paid, reclaim.

I reached in the coffin and pinned it to her chest careful not to tear the fabric. “I’m sorry” I whispered to her, smoothing back her hair, brittle like straw.I turned and walked from the cavern. Whistling a tune half remembered as the water kissed my feet.