The TwiceBorn

The Bitter Taste of Mercy

“How long does it take man to realize that he cannot want what he wants?"--Burroughs

The sarcasm was lost on Blixen.

“I know, he should!  But does he appreciate me? No!”  Blixen proclaimed as he attempted to staunch the flow of liquid from his head by jamming his silken hat down onto the wound.  Satisfied that he was as good as new, he nestled down on Alora’s shoulder where he assumed a regal pose and began pointing out various festivities.  The calm didn’t last for long.

“Shuck! Shuck!”

Blixen jumped up and began bounding up and down on Alora’s shoulder again as he tried to catch the attention of a little ragged imp that was busily gathering stones in a small clearing.  Alora tried to ignore the goblin but he began pulling on her hair to get her attention.

‘Wait,stop here!! Just for a moment!”  He yelped as he adroitly avoided her stinging slap.  Against her better judgment, Alora pulled Loki up.  Blixen’s infectious enthusiasm was only putting her on edge.  Part of her wanted to dally and enjoy everything going on around her but the  restless, pacing part below that made her fidget in the saddle. Loki picked up on her mood and began to dance in place.

“Blixen, this is the last stop, understand? I don’t have time for this.” 

Blixen leaned close and his foul breath wafted beneath her nostrils as he whispered in his scratchy little voice.

“Shuck has never shown me the proper respect that my position as Yzebel’s favorite demands.  I just want him to see me this once!”

Alora started to tell him to hurry up but was cut off as Blixen put two claws in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that cut through Alora’s head and caused her to flinch.

“Shuck! Look at me! Up here!”

The imp glanced up from his stone forage and Alora was unsettled by the deep crevasses where his eyes should have been.  The two black hollows flashed red and orange but the colors were flat, with no expression and gave the illusion of being bottomless pits.  His leathery skin was so black, he appeared almost blue and large fuzzy ears protruded from each side of his head like an enormous bat. 

Bound to a lesser hag, he was clothed in rags that were clean but well-worn.Alora noticed his small grasping monkey hands held an assortment of pebbles and as she watched, he picked up two more with his feet.  She found herself smiling in spite of Blixen, who was jumping up and down on her already bruised shoulder.

The little imp tossed the pebbles into the air and briefly juggled them before giving her a huge, black grin.

“Pusbag!  Who is that foolish enough to tote you about?”

Blixen stamped an indignant hoof into Alora’s shoulder.

“Rowenna has still not taught you your place has she, Shuck?  Kneel before The Twiceborn!”

The imp’s eyes grew even larger, something Alora would have though impossible, as he awkwardly dropped to one knee.  He glanced nervously over his shoulder as he juggled his many pebbles.

“Forgive me; I did not recognize you at first.  My apologies to you for not properly humbling myself but I’m the evening’s stone thrower.  I can not cease for even a moment.”

Alora nodded and waved her hand so he would feel free to go about his business. Truth was she was a bit overwhelmed by it all and she could only hope that her discomfort at all the kowtowing wasn’t too noticeable.

Too much time spent alone with just Islinn and Loki for company.

Blixen grunted with contempt.