Eramane (13 page)

“Take it and leave!” Adikiah commands. “I have given you what they need! Leave
now
!” he screams at the writhing body. Taking heed of Adikiah’s command, the creature twists its way down to the canister and grasps it with its gnarled teeth. Securing the offering, the demonic creature flies away into the red abyss. I can no longer see it, yet I hear it laughing. Eventually the laughter grows faint and then vanishes.

I can scream now, and I do. My screams seem to have been the sign Adikiah is waiting for. “It is time for you to
become
, my love.” He lays me on my back again and leans over, putting his mouth to mine. I stare into Adikiah’s eyes as he begins breathing his own life into me. Adikiah stands up and backs away from my body. I shake vigorously, thrashing around like a fish washed ashore, and I begin spitting up thick, tarlike muck. Adikiah rushes to my side and wipes my mouth.

“It worked, my love! We are the same now! We are one.” His voice staggers as he speaks. Lifting me, Adikiah brings me back down and places me in his bedding. I fall into the grips of sleep, taking the impish, distorted face with me.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Eramane’s Harvest

“
E
RAMANE, WAKE UP,” ADIKIAH
asks of me. I wake just as the sun sets, leaving only its reflections of pink in the dark blue dusk. I squint as I look around; the faint hint of daylight that remains intrudes on my eyes, sending piercing bright flashes across my sight. I stand and walk to the edge of the terrace, trying to gain control of my vision. I look down toward the ocean, and in between the flashes of white I am able to make out details on the ocean floor: sand swirling as waves move above it, ocean life darting in and out of their homes, the stripes on a fish that swims along the reef. Looking back to the horizon, my eyes take me miles from the mountain palace, yet the long-sightedness is not settling well in my stomach. My belly turns and images of my surroundings circle around me. I become dizzy and almost collapse, but Adikiah catches me and seats me on the stone ledge. The images slow and I fix my gaze on Adikiah; through his clothing and his flesh, I see inside his body. He has no heart and no blood courses through his veins; a faint red glow pulsates in the center of his core, and nothing more.

He seems to be the only thing I am familiar with, other than the mountain palace. I rise to stand, using Adikiah’s arm to steady myself.

“Relax, Eramane. You will adjust to your new eyes. Welcome these senses,” he advises as he looks me over with wonder and amazement. “What a marvel you have become,” he adds.

“Become?” Anxious to see what he is speaking of, I walk to a mirror. Staring at my reflection, I do not recognize any difference or any familiarity. I gaze longer; I am not certain of my reflection. It is as if I am looking at a stranger, yet only because my memory of myself is vague. I look at my long, dark red hair, lightly bronzed skin, and eyes the color of a golden sunset. My memory loss brings a rise of concern. I turn to Adikiah. “Why can I not remember myself?”

“Your memory will return soon enough,” he says.

“What happened? Did I have an accident?” I wait for his reply.

“No, Eramane, you did not,” he says.

“Well what, then? Why am I able to remember only you—and this place?” I lift my arm, motioning to the terrace; I feel a weight pull on my back. I turn my head to get a look. “What is that?” I scream, frightened at the sight of the velvety black wing protruding from my back. I look to the other side; it has a match. “Adikiah, why do I have wings?” I scream at him, knowing his words will not console me.

“Are they not beautiful?” Adikiah seems to be taken by them, like an envious child who covets the new toy of another.

“What has happened to me?” I blink tears from my eyes so I can see him.

“You have
become
, Eramane,” he explains. I rush back to the mirror and turn to view the wings; they droop to the floor under their own weight, like the long braches of a willow tree. “What have you done to me?” My voice is shrill and frantic. I cannot stop my tears.

“You must harvest, Eramane. Once you do, you will feel more like yourself.”

I no longer give him my attention; the wings on my body own the entirety of my interest. They are unnatural and no amount of time will ever make them feel a part of me. The longer I stare at them, the more I weep, and at last I am sent into an uncontrollable fit. I grab the top of one of the wings and try with all of my might to tear it from my body. Pieces of velvety sheath slide underneath my fingernails as I try remove them from me.

“Eramane, stop!” Adikiah shouts, running up to me. He grabs my hands and forces them down, but to my amazement, and his, I easily break his grip and reach again for the wings. “Stop! You will hurt yourself!” he commands, but his words mean nothing, and I will not stop until the wings are no longer attached to me.

He tries again to control my hands; I push him and he staggers back a few feet away from me. Before he comes to a stop, a flux in his appearance captures my full attention. His face and body bulge and begin changing color. Slate pigments ripple across his skin, consuming all of the bronzed flesh. His eyes burn orange, like the fires in the palace, and bones push out of his forehead; undulating until they form thick, coiled shields on each side of his head. On his back, wings unfold and flex out several feet around him and above him, displaying a bluish-purple sheen, like that of a black snake in the midday sun. His height increases by three or four feet, and in a matter of seconds, Adikiah’s image settles. A dark-hided, winged beast stands before me.

Adikiah rushes me and pins me to a stone column. “Stop, Eramane,” he huffs. I am in awe of his transformation, yet I am not afraid of him. Instead, his order enrages me. I push against him, finding it difficult to move him. He is much stronger in this beast state; I push harder. He shoves back and now his face is in mine, his eyes locked on mine. “I will not let you do this,” he says.

I peer into his fire-colored eyes, and images of trees and a meadow flash before me. Confusion and distrust overwhelm me. I summon every ounce of strength I have and give another shove; I move him off of me, and, taking advantage of the small space of freedom between us, I leap from the terrace. My wings spread out, fierce and glorious, the moonlight reflecting off their velveteen coat, and I disappear into the darkness. Adikiah does not follow.

Adikiah looks out at the ocean; the moon, still round and luminous, shines onto the black ocean waters, making it appear as if silver snakes slither along its surface. He has held his beast form, apparently unable to decide whether he wants to go in search of his companion. “Where have you gone?” he asks aloud, eyes scanning the skies. A flutter from behind reaches his ears, and he turns toward it. “I did not expect you back so soon,” he says, relieved.

I hit the stone terrace top with such control that I feel as if I stepped onto it after walking down a flight of stairs. My grace impresses Adikiah and a faint smile bares his sharp teeth.

“Where else am I supposed to go?” I ask. “Out there, nothing is familiar, welcoming. This is the only place I feel I belong,” I say, in a tone of mild disgust. Adikiah remains where he is, but I see his muscles flinch as he fights the urge to approach me. “What are you? I ask.

“I am the gatekeeper. I harvest the souls of men.”

“Harvest—why?” I ask, unable to determine why a soul would need to be harvested.

“So that we may live,” he says, his voice still.

“I am alive!” I shout, relieving only a portion of my harnessed anger.

“For now, yes, but if you do not harvest, you will die,” he replies calmly.

“And what does that mean, to harvest?” I ask.

“To take the essence of a human and absorb it into your body. It nourishes us, Eramane.”

“This kills them?” My voice trembles at the thought of his reply being yes, and tears break forth when he confirms it.

“It does,” he says. I look away from him and walk to the edge of the terrace top. I will not kill to live; I would rather die. I look down at the waves as they crash against the rocks at the bottom of the mountain.

“I could jump,” I say.

“I would catch you before you reached the bottom,” Adikiah says softly, and I know he would.

“It is a brutal way to live,” I say, still looking down at the crashing waves.

“Is the lion brutal when it takes down its prey? I am an animal just the same. We are all animals, Eramane, are we not? Humans slaughter one another over power, greed, fear … is that not brutal? The variations of death do not matter. I did not choose to be a gatekeeper, but it is my fate and has been for centuries. If not for me, the Orders of the Reach would spew from this mountain like the hot molten rock from its belly. Life upon life would be consumed until nothing was left, yet humankind does not show me gratitude; instead they hunt me.” Adikiah falls silent and I reflect on his words, taking in all he has told me.

I wake from the midday sun warming my skin. I slept on the terrace top; it is the only place I do not feel confined. Adikiah must have covered me during the night; I did not have a pelt blanket when I curled up on the hard stone. I have now adjusted well to my vision; the images no longer make me unsteady. It is the first time I have really seen without feeling dizzy.

Adikiah has come to join me; I hear the pebbles on the terrace top rattle as he lands, and I look over my shoulder to acknowledge his presence. He changes into his human form before approaching. “I prefer your true form,” I say, my jaw tight, my sight fixed to the horizon.

“You do?” He is surprised by my preference.

“Yes. Why should you be able to hide your afflictions, yet I must bear mine?”

“You see this as an affliction?” he asks, offended, but remains placid.

I say nothing. It is a difficult transition; he must understand that.

“Eramane.” His voice softens. “I am sorry you have been so devastated by this. It was not supposed to be so difficult for you. Look at me.” He gently places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. “You will move beyond this, but you must harvest, or you will die.”

My despair dwindles upon his touch. Once his hands brush against my skin, I feel a transfer of emotion from him, as if he were telling me his thoughts. I can feel what he feels when he looks at me; I am not an object under his will, like the servants that bend to his demands. I am his only reason for living; yet even this is not enough to change my mind. I will not harvest, and this is how I will die, finding peace in my death.

I wake up to the darkness. I sit up and look around the terrace. My vision has blurred and I can see only to the edges of the terrace-top landing. I try to stand, but I am weak. I am unsure of how long it has been since my
becoming
, but my skeletal shape indicates that it has been long enough for starvation to take hold. I gauge my decline by the amount of velvet that has shed from my wings; strips of the soft coating hang from them, as moss hangs from trees. My mouth is dry and my lips have cracked beyond the point of bleeding. After several attempts I manage to stand, and although I cannot see very far, I know exactly where Adikiah is. In moments he will land on the terrace, presenting a third human offering. I will refuse and he will shout to the heavens, begging that something more powerful than he can persuade me to harvest.