The TwiceBorn

Watching The Shadows Beneath The Moon

"Don't lie alone beneath the window shade...let me see the mark death made..."--Gillian Welch

She moved among them, her shadow stretching long over their twisted bodies.  They came to her, pitching and crawling, and the ones who still had hands reached for her, wanting to touch and caress the representation of their darkness.

The smell of their decay glowed and raved around her but Alora’s smile only widened as she felt the hesitant, fawning touches on her legs and boots.

My love for this is my greatest sin. 

A calm sense of satisfaction…of place…moved through her as she dropped her reins and reached out her hands to pet and caress and what lay beneath her surface, that black ocean of ever-watchful madness detected their resonance of regret. The sheer and terrible beauty of it was enough to almost bring Alora to tears.

Loki slowed and stood, his neck arched as hands roamed over his neck and chest.  His eyes glittered in the light of the bale fires.  Gently, Alora urged him forward and the gummy hands fell away only to be replaced with the touch of others, all eager to pay homage.

And then she spoke to them, whispered words in a language that sounded like dry leaves blown by a bitter, cold wind and the ruined faces twisted in ecstasy at the sound.

And Alora’s smile grew into a grin.  She fed off of Islinn’s fear as the younger girl pressed against her back.  The fear moved through her, feeding her, and she threw back her head and laughed at the utter delight of it all.

Some of the Hynti burst into tears at the sound. 

An insistent tugging at her boot caught Alora’s attention and she glanced down at a pallid face that looked oddly familiar.  She studied the figure.  Its tunic was ragged and one arm was gone from the shoulder with only strands of rotted flesh remaining. 

He was not as decayed as the rest, Alora noted, and he was able to move a bit more freely than the others.  His vacuous eyes stared up at her slavishly and she noticed his stomach was ripped open.  What was left of his entrails hung, dirty and matted, from the cavernous opening. 

Alora reached out and gave his cheek a lover’s caress.

“Gareth.”  She whispered softly and he crooned with excitement at the sound. The devoted stroking of her boot increased and he lay his head against her leg.  Alora’s heart was filled with such a fierce joy that all the questions of what her regret over her actions might cost her on sleepless nights was finally laid to rest. 

She was now in blackness and this…this was what she loved…

     ***************************************************

Islinn knew the time for choices had long since passed her by.  When they’d ridden out into the Hynti she’d felt something change in Alora.  Something emanated off of the other woman. It was cold, and ruthless; a world of desolation and all the good inside of Islinn rolled over and cried out in protest at its close proximity.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at at all the gamboling figures around the horse. She’d cringed as they approached and steeled herself to feel the touch of their hands but they avoided her.  Like fire, they reached their fingers out to her then shied away as though burned.

She’d lost the stag immediately.  The reins had slipped through her fingers as smooth as butter and she’d felt a pang of instant regret.  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to reach her now free hand around Alora’s waist.  The woman was a stranger to her.  She sat quietly as Loki came to a halt.  The hot, fetid air left an oily taste in her mouth as she struggled to breathe.

And she thought about Alora.  No, not Alora.  The Twiceborn.  And that night just a short time ago, beneath the idiotic face of the moon and beneath the fear of being subjected to what she knew was wrong and evil…and yet…

…hadn’t there been just a spark of familiarity in the recesses of her heart?

 In the dirty smoky air surrounded by abominations paying homage to what she herself had confessed to love, what Brede wanted came to her. Not in a great flash of light or some crystal clear epiphany.  It wasn’t a thunderous voice in her mind or even something she could put her own words to.  It simply was.

And along with her acknowledgement of it came an expectation.  A dreadful, awful expectation that simply demanded what Islinn felt she no longer possessed.

She only became aware of the tears on her cheeks when she raised her face to catch the smoke-laden breeze. Surprised, she reached one hand up and lightly touched the dampened skin.  She never would have known of their presence if she hadn’t felt the slight wind against her face.

These tears though…they flowed steadily down her face and dripped off her cheeks. She reached a hand up and touched her face with wonder, not understanding where they came from or why they weren’t accompanied by the usual lump in her throat or the tight feeling in her chest.  Something about the tears seemed familiar to her on a level far below casual thought.

She was light.

She was life.

She was love.

The words whispered through her mind in a voice she almost recognized and, suddenly, she was no longer afraid.  She covered her face with both hands and felt the tears against her skin, soaking into her flesh.  Slowly she placed her hands on her legs, and the Hynti on both sides of Loki fell back as though they’d been given a giant, invisible push.

“Islinn?”  Alora’s voice was low and uncertain.  Islinn innately knew the woman had sensed something too powerful to be ignored. 

Because it was her way.

“I’m fine.”  She calmly replied.

 It wasn’t what Alora was asking but she didn’t think the woman would elaborate. Islinn looked at the Hynti, for the first time, and watched as they turned away.

                              ***********************************

At Alora's urging,Loki reluctantly broke into a slow canter towards the fire line.  With a toss of his head and an irritable squeal, he voiced his displeasure at the thickening smoke. Alora squinted her eyes and felt Islinn take a tighter hold around her waist as they headed into Lochedge.

Something had happened but she didn’t know what.  For a quick moment there had been a brief yet fierce wave of something undefined yet limitless.  Nothing but a quick flash and show of what could occur…but had not, for whatever reason.

And that reason had something to do with Islinn, and while the girl’s existence was simple

(innocent)

 that shadowy power was not.  It had been heavy and deep as it ran through.  Slouching its way through the Hynti. Slow with its intensity yet lightning fast in appearance…

...and if it had paused and displayed some power she knew very little about…

…Would she have been afraid?

She didn’t know.  And lately there seemed to have been quite a few moments she was unsure of.  And she didn’t like it.  There was something in the wind and she was reminded of what her mother had said to her when she was young.

“Never put water to your lips that has mirrored the moon Alora; tis an ill-boding.”

That water was all about her now, a bottomless, angry harbinger that carried something unknown beneath its roiling waves. She could feel it, sitting still as it waited for her to catch a brief glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. Unknown and beyond her ability to control.