Through Fire

Through Fire - Chapter 06

A fist of cold water struck him in the face, and he gasped, cursed, rose to his feet, and then stood and peered about in the darkness, for the night lay heavy on the world, and the stars had disappeared. He wiped water off his face, blinked, and narrowed his eyes, trying to catch any hint of light in the surrounding gloom.

"Awake at last," said a familiar voice. "Your sleep was heavier than your body."

"Caerlion." Memories flooded back, images, a flashing trident, carved snakes drinking blood, a gun, a blast, fingers like stone in his throat. He raised his fists and whipped around, looking for a target.

"Don't bother, rigger, I can see you, but you can't see me, not in this place. You've lived all your life in that comfortable, well-lit box with wings. I was born out here, in the darkness, in the silence."

It hurt when he spoke, and his words came out like rough stones grinding together. "Caerlion, if I wanted your life story, I'd..." He frowned. "What's wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a normal person."

Caerlion chuckled. "It's dark, and we're all alone."

A chill settled on Flint. "Diana."

"Hmm. Safe, Flint, for now. Her future state depends very much on you."

Flint cursed at him. "This is beyond a joke, Caerlion. What have you done to her? What about Blacksnake's friends? Did you... You haven't..."

"Perhaps I killed them all for sport."

Flint squeezed his eyes shut, and put his face in his hands. His head began to hurt, an ache that started at his swollen right temple, and ran deep inside his skull. "No. No, you can't have."

Caerlion laughed again. "We have this chance, let's not waste it on those savages."

"They're not-"

Caerlion's voice rose. "They're whatever I say they are, rigger. Until the sun rises and makes us equals, weapons notwithstanding, your world is mine."

Flint turned this way and that, though every motion cost him a spike of pain in his head, but the shadows told him nothing, and at last he knew that Caerlion had snared him. He couldn't find the man, couldn't find much of anything. He was at the treacherous faux-tutor's mercy, and yet it seemed the man didn't want to spike him and drain out his blood. Perhaps if he talked with Caerlion he might figure out his position by sound, get close enough to put his hands on the beast. Words, he decided, yes, words might get him a better chance than flailing at the dark.

He lowered his fists, and stood, upright and still, let the darkness settle on him, thick with the odours of damp bark and rotting leaves. "You woke me. You want to talk, Caerlion."

"Ah, some intelligent behaviour at last. Rare and wonderful pleasure- Damn! I'm doing it again, now, when we're alone, and you can't even see me."

Flint wrinkled his brow. "I don't..." He shook his head, unsure how to articulate his current state of perplexed fury.

"No, you don't," said Caerlion. "That's the point, and I have kept it sharp, so very sharp. Do you know what it's like, pretending to be something you're not?"

"No, I wouldn't say that I do."

"'Wouldn't say that I do'," said Caerlion in a mocking tone. "You do it all the time. All of you. You lie to each other and you lie to yourselves. And then I come among you, and find I have to lie for my own protection. Lie every day, act, play the fool, and all of it so stupid I could cut my tongue just to taste something real."