Transformation Part II
Hank pretended he was asleep.
He could hear her breathing and could feel the curve of her back and hips against him. But he couldn’t sleep. Not now.
They’d done it. They had done it. Sex. Here. Together. He and Sheila had finally had sex, here, tonight.
So why did he feel like this? She was lying curled up on her side, facing the wall. She wouldn’t even talk to him. There was a look on her face afterwards, as he’d asked her if she was alright that he’d never seen before, and it worried him. It had been painful, for both of them, and he trusted her enough to know that she would have told him if there was anything wrong.
But why was it so awkward?
And why didn’t he understand?
= = =
Eric drifted back into consciousness, discordant images flashing in front of him. It felt like he was being pulled back from sleep against his will.
There was the worst feeling inside him; not that he’d ever been very, very drunk, but it was the woozy kind of sickness that he associated with alcohol. There was an awful taste in his mouth, as if his insides were coated in pond scum. He ached as well, even without moving he could tell that his neck was sore. All the way down his left side it felt like he had an enormous bruise, and it was difficult to breathe properly.
He remembered what had happened to him in fits and starts; not that he particularly wanted to know, but having a big blank patch in his past was worse. He forced himself to relive the last few minutes before he passed out: the creature; the smell; the feeling of disgust; and the pain.
‘Wake up.’
The Cavalier recognised the voice, and was overwhelmed with the urge to do what she said and open his eyes. But before he did, he made himself remember who she was, and what she’d done to him.
He hated her; that fucking Seer had it planned out down to the last sick detail; she’d captured and tortured him deliberately. And he was going to find out why, even if it killed him.
Eric opened his eyes, though the lids felt like they had been stuck together. He was in a plain room, painted in muted colours, with almost no furniture save for the bed he was lying on. The Seer was sitting beside him, smiling down like a demented nurse, so pleased that he could almost smell the self-satisfaction. But there was something different about her, beneath the conceit, something more human and attractive; and round her neck was the shard of crystal, but now it shone with a soft yellow light. It caught his attention, and he couldn’t look away.
She noticed his gaze, and raised her hand to touch it. For some reason, Eric winced as she rolled it between her finger and thumb.
‘Cavalier.’
His heart lurched when she said his title, in a way that it had never done before. He didn’t like that feeling.
But from the look of her, it was obvious to him that she was here to gloat, and he might as well get as much information out of her as he could while he had the chance. Evil Villains all have the same weakness, he thought, the sound their own voice.
She was obviously just dying to tell him how clever she was. He had nothing to lose if he listened.
‘Whadyawan.’ The words slurred together, as his mouth was dry and he was having trouble moving it.
The Seer laughed, making the crystal bob lightly up and down on her chest. It was hypnotic.
‘You’re awake at last. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.’
He swallowed the urge to tell her to fuck off and leave him alone. Pissing her off wasn’t going to help; well, not that the moment.
‘Whado yawan?’
She looked at him, the madness he’d seen before lighting her eyes from inside. Perhaps I don’t want to know.
‘I want to talk to you,’ she replied. ‘There is a lot to be said.’
Loves the sound of her own voice, he thought. Typical!
‘Everything is now in place,’ she told him. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Venger’s plan starts to unravel. He just doesn’t know it yet.’ She gave a light, sniggering laugh. ‘It’s very important that you understand, Cavalier, that I have nothing against you, personally. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was… unkind. You are just a means to an end.’
It was the thought of that “end” that was driving this insane game of hers. How could he not ask? He took a deep breath and tried to get the words out coherently.
‘What do you want?’
She grinned at him, and laid her hand on his in a comforting fashion. He wanted to yank it away, but he stopped himself.
‘There’s something I want you to see. Get dressed.’
Standing up was almost impossible, he couldn’t stand up straight for the first few minutes, and that leering, greedy gaze was on him all the time as he pulled on the loose clothes that were lying at the bottom of his bed.
When he was finally dressed, she led him slowly into the hall and up some stairs, stopping at a darken room.
Inside was a Mirror.
His lip curled in revulsion when he caught sight of it. The frame was the colour of dry blood and the ornate carvings were of creatures doing horrible, unspeakable things to each other. The surface of the mirror was smooth and black, and seemed to be pulsing with a life of its own. It was Evil.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked. ‘This is one of the Mirrors of Nynad. They “see”, past present and future. I’ve use it to watch you.’
He had the terrible feeling she wasn’t meaning that “you” in the plural.
‘Venger has the other one, but he’s only just found it.’ She turned to smile at him, but all Eric could look at was the crystal round her neck. It was pulsing with life, too, like the Mirror, but it wasn’t evil, it was… something else…
‘He wants you,’ said the Seer suddenly. ‘He wants the Ranger more, but he was too much trouble to catch. Why don’t you look?’
Eric barely heard the question tagged on at the end. All he could think of was Hank and a deep, resentful anger burned through him. With Sheila, with everything, and now even with this, he was always second to Hank!
‘Why don’t you look!’ she said, a little more loudly.
He didn’t want to; and not just because she suggested it. His ability to sense magic had stayed with him since the day as the Dungeonmaster, and it was currently screaming at him to stay away from that Mirror, as if his life depended on it.
‘You don’t want to?’ She leaned forward, and the crystal swung gently against her clothes. ‘But I want you to, Cavalier.’
There it was again, the way she said his title, it was enough to make him sick, but he felt compelled to obey her. The corners of her mouth twisted into a smile as he turned and walked towards the Mirror.
Inside, he was furious with himself. But since it seemed like he had no choice, he would damn well try and turn this to his advantage, if he could. It showed past, present and future? Well, he would just look and see, and try to figure a way out of this hateful place. Then he would find a way to wipe that smug smirk off her face!
He stood in front of it and for a second he saw his reflection, cut and bruised and much thinner than he remembered, then the surface went dark.
Images appeared without warning, blurring into one another. And it wasn’t just images; he could feel it, he was there in person. He could feel the heat, and hear the screams, and the water, and the terror as clearly as he could feel the clothes on his body.
Thick smoke choked him, he could hear the Orcs shouting. Hank was slumped down, alone, despair in his heart while behind him a Red Dragon circled in the sky. Icy cold water was pulling Sheila down to her death, crushing her, choking her, she was unable to breathe. Diana was lying somewhere quiet, the whisper of prayer around her. Something was eating its way into Presto, a small, nasty little creature with magic in its eyes. Bobby slept, dreaming of his unicorn. Hank and Sheila were naked together fucking each other in slow motion. Presto was sitting in a high room, staring grimly out of the window, looking down at the height and contemplating his only escape…
He tried to step away, but he couldn’t move. The images returned, harsher and faster.
Hank was pressing himself against Sheila, looking into her startled eyes and unable to stop the burning lust. Diana was alone in the dark, stars whirling about her head like a circlet of diamonds. Presto was in pain, frightened and alone, with no way out. Venger was…
Suddenly, Venger was there in front of him, staring right into his eyes. It was such a heavy, wicked and amoral look that the Cavalier lifted his hands to his face, trying to protect himself.
The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He tried to make sense of the images; at least it seemed the others were all still alive. Some of them were in great danger, but they were still alive, and that was something. Presto had been hurt, and tricked into doing something horrible. Diana seemed to be in a trance, he couldn’t understand properly. And Hank… his stomach lurched. Hank had fucked Sheila. However much Eric had tried to convince himself that Sheila didn’t really like Hank, it was now proved totally wrong. He’d known in his heart he was always second best to the perfect Ranger. But the confirmation hurt so much more viciously than he’d expected.
And in spite of what was happening to the others, he felt sick with jealousy. Hank and Sheila: It was always Hank and Sheila. It wasn’t fair!
‘The Mirror does take a little getting used to,’ said the Seer and he turned to scowl at her. ‘But I hope you enjoyed what you saw. Don’t worry, each time you look, it becomes easier.’
He gulped. Did that mean he had to look again? But strangely, the thought of looking at the Mirror once more didn’t fill him with the dread it should have done. There was more to see, there would always be more to see. He paused, as what was almost a wave of magic passed through him. It is Evil, remember, that Mirror is EVIL! He glanced away.
The Seer walked up to him and held out her hand, to help him up off the floor. He ignored it, and pushed himself up on his own.
‘Everything is now in place,’ she told him. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Venger’s plan starts to unravel and your Magician breaks under the strain. I know because I’ve seen it.’
‘Presto?’ Eric shuddered as he remembered the fleeting images of his friend he’d experience. He wanted to know what happened, and what was going to happen. He looked back to the Mirror. Past present and future. He knew, though he didn’t understand how, that he’d only seen the past. ‘What’s going to happen to Presto?’
‘Venger just doesn’t understand,’ she said. ‘It’s going to take a lot more than that to bring you all down.’
‘What’s going to happen?’ he demanded. Presto was his best friend; there had been a terrible look of despair in the images Eric had seen. But she wasn’t going to tell him! That bitch was smiling at him, and had no intention of telling him anything!
‘You’re missing the point. What matters, Cavalier, is that we’re ready. Venger will welcome me.’
His lip curled in disgust as he thought back to the singularly unpleasant image of the Arch-Mage he’d seen. It occurred to the Cavalier then that she couldn’t have seen Venger recently, because no one in their right mind would have gone within a hundred miles of him!
She was watching him, with the same look as before; he was only a means to an end, and that was all. He was right to worry about Presto, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the one he really should have been worrying about was himself.
There were footsteps from behind them, and Ranyar appeared. His face was grim, almost angry, like when they’d first met in the caves. And he couldn’t look the Cavalier in the eye.
‘You summoned me, my lady?’
She didn’t reply to her servant, instead she smiled one more time at the Cavalier.
‘Now you’ve recovered enough to stand,’ she said, ‘all we have to do is find a suitable way of keeping you… occupied. While we wait.’
= = =
Sheila lay still and pretended she was asleep.
Why were they so far apart? They were further apart now that ever before.
Why did it have to go wrong?
It hurt, inside her there was still a terrible pain. No pleasure; no wonderful moment of togetherness. Just pain, and blood.
It was still sticky on her legs, she could feel it and it made her feel sick. Was it always like this, the first time? She felt so ashamed of herself for not being what he’d wanted. That look, afterwards, when he’d asked how it was. She couldn’t stand that look. He’d wanted it to be perfect, but it wasn’t. It was horrible. How could she tell him that their first time was so horrible?
Hank had fallen asleep, she could hear his heavy, laboured breathing, and hear him murmur her name. She thought about the others; Eric and Presto, her friends who were lost and alone. Instead of searching for them, they were here, gratifying the ugly lust inside them. It was an appalling thing to do. She felt liked they had betrayed them all.
As dawn broke, and the first shaft of sunlight appeared through the window, there was a knock on the door. She shuddered, but didn’t move. She wanted the bed to swallow her anyway.
She heard Hank get up and pull some clothes on before answering the door.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
The voice that answered was that of the Healer.
‘About your friend. I have good news.’ His tone was light, almost eager and Sheila breathed a silent sigh. At least one of them was alright. ‘I’m pleased to tell you that she’s gone.’
She’s gone?
= = =
= = =