The Viper [One-shot]
Jul 1, 2019 9:58:17 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Jul 1, 2019 9:58:17 GMT -5
Year 2948 of the Third Age
The Od Üzmerch's title had been taken from her, and so had the freedom of motion, and her life was of leaden metal. Her wrists were now chained together. She was led through the halls by a chain attached to her cuffs. Her ankles dragged links over the stone floors of the palace of Nalaikh. Before long she had forgotten the pain of such things, and merely felt weighted heavy.
They now called her a kelet. A ghost. She was a ghost.
In her chambers within the white, stone tower, she stood, staring Westward. There was a song below being sung, and she watched. A mother, and small child were walking from the river with buckets. The mother carrying two large pails, and the child, a tiny pot of water, and they sung together. The song drifted upward to Kelet's ears.
Ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee.”
“Ee buuvei buuveei ee,”she whispered out the window, the song lost to sky. The mother and child moved from sight, but she could still hear them singing, and her eyes rose back to the orange sky as she watched the sun sink lower on the horizon. There were footsteps climbing the stair. Kelet stilled her humming, and waited, listening as she watched a hawk soar over the desert on fumes of heat, searching for food in cooler hours.
She could hear the locks and latches on the outside of her door moving. One wished to enter, and she sighed. Tsetseg, it would be; for none other entered her chambers here but Tsetseg to gather her to the higher floor of the tower, or to bring food and water, or fresh garments and bedding.
“None have been given permission to enter my chambers. Leave, Tsetseg,” Kelet announced, loud enough to be heard through the door, as she stared at the setting sun in the western sky. She did not wish to eat. There was an hour or more before the stars would truly brighten, and she would be taken to the observatory to give nightly readings. She wished to be undisturbed; for the setting of the sun was her favorite time of day. Due west, the sun would fall, marking the sky brilliant in colors.
“The Zakhiral is here to see you, Kelet,” Tsetseg's voice came briskly as the door opened, and it was not Tsetseg's footfalls which entered the room, but the heavy footsteps of Bakaar, who had been gone in the southlands now for three years since the day she had first met him.
Kelet had heard his return, a few days past; she had heard the chorus that had gone up at the gates, and she had heard the speech of the counselors as they passed through the courtyard. She stood straight and tall in the windowframe, and did not turn to him.
“I do not take visitors in my chambers,” she said, her voice even as she spoke. “You may meet me in the observatory when the stars are in the sky.”
“I see you like your chains, Kelet,” he commented, ignoring the command she had given, as the door was again pulled shut behind him. The bolts and latches refastened. She heard the bar of the door drop, and the latches grate against metal and wood as they slid.
“Nobody is to enter my chambers,” Kelet whispered as her knuckles grew white against the window.
“Look at me, Kelet,” the Zakhiral commanded.
“I am a servant of the Goddess of Night. I take no orders from man.” Kelet's visions of the west had vanished, and she stared only at hills of sand lofty in the distance. Her eyes tried to focus on one hill, and she watched as the hot winds of summer blew across the arch of the dune, sending sand flying through the air in a funnel.
“You are the servant of Bakaar the Zakhiral,” Bakaar laughed. “And I do not tolerate disrespect.”
Kelet said nothing, and as she heard the approach of the Zakhiral behind her, she turned, slowly, glaring at him. “What is it you desire of me now, that cannot wait until the sun has set and the stars are above? The stars speak louder when they are visible in the sky.”
“I seek not the stars,” Bakaar said, as he began to remove his leather armor, which reeked of long wear. “We have returned from the Black Lands. I have been raised to a Captain in Dark Lord's army. He finds the conquest of Nalaikh to be of great significance and honor.” Piece by piece his leathers fell to the floor in a pile, and Kelet's eyes did not flicker.
“I have learned much of your people in the southlands. Many captives there have been taken; those fair, of long life. The Dark Lord uses them to his purposes. I spent some time with a few pointy eared demons.”
Kelet tried not to appear interested in the topic, narrowing her eyes.
“I returned this time with a larger army; and the next time, it will be even greater. Your winnowing basket was plentiful.”
“The stars will speak more of your victories later,” Kelet whispered. “When you meet me in--”
“I have no use for you in the observatory,” Bakaar spat. “Your use is one, and your use is here… I have found it is possible… I have seen it done... The breeding of your type. The Dark Lord is forging a powerful army for his will, and I have seen those warriors bred of your kind. They are strong. They live long life. My heir will live longer than myself; and will serve the Lord of the South all his days. I must depart again in the week, and my heir will be growing in your belly before then.”
Kelet recoiled, back against the window in disgust, her mind roving for words. “As the stars in the firmament. You think you are the first to to seek after me for here I stand in the form of woman with flesh; but soon you will find as those before you that my womb is fire and my fingertips are flame. I am not made for man's pleasure, nor breeding. I am sent here to read the stars alone.”
“I like fire in a woman, and you are not the first of your kind I have had. In the Black Lands, my Master gave me thralls to use as I wished, and I watched as pointy eared demons withered and died beneath me. Like flowers wilting in the heat of the desert, they faded when I had my way with them,” Bakaar told her. “The same will be your fate, should you resist me. I have heard, should you be willing that life can be spared. Now will you comply, or should I call my men to hold you down?”
He left no option.
“If you wish to take the risk of fire, I will do as you say,” Kelet whispered, her voice tremulous as the Chieftain dragged down the shoulders of her white dress. She swallowed hard, and tried to regain her composure even as her skin was bared before him; her eyes hardening.
“That is what I would hear of my thrall,” Bakaar told her, his hand reaching for strands of white hair.
“Yet the stars do not speak of tonight,” she whispered hoarsely. Kelet's mind moved desperately, though she hid her fear beneath her cold gaze. “The stars do not grant that a son should be conceived tonight while the chaff blows in late summer. It is on spring's wind, when the root is intersected by the three stars of the encampment, that an heir may come to you.” The lies of years came smooth upon her lips, and Kelet counted on them to be taken heed again, though her ears twitched at his next words.
“I do not take orders from the stars,” Bakaar answered, “I am the Sun, and I drown out the light of the stars when I am in the sky.”
Kelet stood unmoving as the coarse hand of the Zakhiral ran hot over flesh he had exposed to the night air, and she was silent, looking down on him. Her mind was flickering through the night sky, half wishing to be drawn back to her dreams, and half reeling in sickness and horror that he had not stayed back from her. That he had done what she had forbidden.
“I am not burning,” Bakaar laughed. “There is no fire in you. You are no different than the others, I've had. Yet, it would do you well to submit to me, or you too will be dead before the night has finished.”
Kelet's fingers clenched against her thighs, fears bubbling up in her chest. Every nerve in her body tingled, and she had to remain in control. She had to keep her face centered.
“You will need to unchain me if you wish to remove my dress further,” Kelet whispered, as her eyes flicked to the window. To the torch on the wall. To the bowl of water on it's stand.
“You think I am a fool, you demon? To unchain you now? You will wear chains as jewelry to your death.” Bakaar reached to grasp the gauzy cloth from her shoulders and tore it. First one side, then the other, until the ruined dress fell, and she was pushed back to the bed. His foul breath was against her, and the chains that bound her wrists fell heavy against her stomach as she succumbed to his odorous lips.
“Do not touch me, you will burn. The Goddess of Night will not stand--” she tried, her voice shaking.
“I care not for the gods you speak of. There is one God, and he rises in power in the Black Lands,” Bakaar stated from above.
“Who speak you of in the Black Lands?” Kelet asked in whisper, feigning interest that would keep his mouth in speech instead of upon her.
“I speak of Lord Sauron, who grows in strength once again. Surely you have heard of him. Surely the stars have told you.” Bakaar's voice was amused.
“I know of him, yet there are others,” Kelet answered, taking in a deep breath as she tried to settle her trembling beneath the heft of the Easterling.
“Others?” Bakaar asked in interest. “What others are there?” As he spoke, he grasped hold of the chain between Kelet's wrists, and raised it over her head, out of his way, and Kelet heard the links as they clattered together fall heavy against her pillow. The links were iron. The links were heavy.
“Others who would challenge Sauron,” Kelet stated simply, trying to ignore the hands of the Chieftain. “The stars have told me of another. Of a King who will rise in the West, while Sauron's light sets in the East.” Slowly she moved her wrists apart on her pillow, listening to the way metal rode across the cotton sheets, until the chain was spread taught between her hands.
Bakaar shifted on the bed, pressing her down yet noticing not her motions, as her fingers moved in the moonlight and her arms readied. Her arms tensed.
“The West is weak. It will fall beneath the armies of Rhun, and Khand, and Haradwaith. Mordor will summon the strongest lands and the Dark Lord will crown those of us who will submit to him, and make us kings in our own lands. By the time my son is grown, he will inherit the lands of the West as his own.” The motions of Bakaar seemed now frantic as he sat up on the bed, ripping at the lacings of his own clothing, and Kelet took advantage of her freedom, sitting up beside him. Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were cold.
“Lie back down,” Bakaar commanded. “Put your arms where I left them,” and Kelet moved, as if to comply, beginning to raise her arms above her head. The Bakaar threw his belt upon the floor, his knife still attached to it, and found himself weaponless. And as the metal clinked against he stone, so too did her chains clink against each other while she bid her trembling to still and she disobeyed.
Bakaar's shirt hit the floor, and Kelet reached for him, fingers sliding over his shoulders. Gentle did she bid her hands fall upon him.
“Perhaps she does not wish to die this night. Perhaps I will bear an immortal son, and she shall reign a Queen in the Westernlands,” Bakaar laughed.
“It may be. The stars speak of a strong son,” Kelet whispered, as her second hand slid over his shoulder blades, and she shifted to her knees behind him. “I have always wished to be a Queen, and to do as I please.”
Bakaar suddenly sat still, amused at the turn of events. “Perhaps this one is smarter than the thralls of the Black Lands.”
“It may be,” Kelet repeated, as she slowly lifted a hand over Bakaar's head, that the chain would fall flat against his chest, and her hand would follow. Bakaar's eyes closed in pleasure, and Kelet let her fingers linger for a few moments, before leaning to whisper. “If the stars will it.”
“I now like the sound of the stars,” Bakaar answered. “I like it enough that I may allow them to shine.”
Kelet rose up on her knees, peering slowly around to see the eyes of the Bakaar still shut to her. She bit her lip and her stomach felt nauseated. Her fingers clenched, scraping over his chest in gentle motions, and then, as a stroke of lightning, she twisted her her arms around in a breath of wind like the strike of a viper. The chain went taught around the Zakhiral's neck and he gasped, a last breath, as his arms flailed behind him to grab at her.
“I will not be touched. I did not grant you leave to touch me,” Kelet whispered, as she pulled her wrists tight. Tightly, until the cuffs cut into her skin, and blood dripped from them. Still holding them taught when all the air had escaped from his lungs. The Zakhiral's face was first red, then purple, then blue, and he made no more sound or writhing.
Kelet unwound the chain and stood from the bed, letting his body fall limp as she took three harried steps back, shuddering as she grasped for her torn dress and pulled the torn dress back over her shoulders. Her breath came in harried gasps, making her dizzy. Her stomach churned as she looked upon the body. The body of the life she had destroyed. He was gone. His spirit had left them; and though it was evil, Kelet stood nauseated. She could hear her breathing and she felt exhausted.
There were no sounds of footsteps now; but they would come. She knew Tsetseg was outside the door, waiting. The Wainriders would come and see what she had done to the Zakhiral, and she too would be murdered. Kelet whimpered in her anxiety, even as she bid herself to remain silent, and she looked to the western window. To the sky where the sun would set each eve, and where her dreams would take her. She would never go. She would never see the trees nor the water. She would never feel the fresh, earthy breeze which came in her dreams.
Starfire. Her mind reminded her, and her eyes flicked to the bowl of scented oil on her washbasin. Swiftly she moved to it, and uncorked the bottle, swallowing and pouring it over the marks the chain had made upon his throat.
Her hands trembled as she moved for the lantern torch left burning upon the wall, and she moved the dancing flame from wall to skin, the oil taking light in an instant.
“Starfire,” she whispered to herself as the smell of burning flesh struck her, and the flame licked over the skin of the dead Easterling until it caught on his beard, and his black hair. The smell was stifling, and smoke began to drift from the window as the bed in the stone room started to blaze, as Kelet replaced the torch on the wall. Her eyes were wide as she looked upon the corpse, and her hands dripped with blood from the shackles.
Her feet padded across the room, to her wash basin, where she dipped and tended to her skin, and she did not turn again to look back on the body, but she dragged her chains across back to the western window, placing her hands upon the stone sill, squeezing it until her knuckles were white and breathing the fresh air from outdoors, as she willed her dreams and visions of the west to come to her.
A breeze lulled past her face, bringing with it the scent of trees, of green beyond the desert, and she closed her eyes as she was taken to the riverside. Her face slackened. Kelet's feet were bare as she stepped upon the pebbles. She could feel them cold beneath her feet, and she swished through the waters, but she could not imagine the sound of of so much water flowing, nor feel the way it pooled around her ankles. She could only smell burning.
“Fire! What is on fire in there… Kelet!” Tsetseg was calling through the door to the room as she hurriedly moved the multitude of locks and latches that held it shut from outside.
Kelet's mind drifted back from waking dream to reality, and she stared out the window, her white hair fluttering slightly behind her in the breeze coming from the window, as Tsetseg finally pushed open the door and screamed at the sight of the Zakhiral. Kelet did not turn.
“What has happened?” Tsetseg demanded, in both shock and horror.
“I told him he was not to touch me,” Kelet whispered. “I warned him of what Shöniin Burkhan would do if he touched that which was the light of stars.”
“How did this happen? What did you do?” Tsetseg was wringing her hands, unable to look away from the charred face in front of her.
“I told him I have starfire in my fingertips. I warned him,” Kelet repeated, her voice low.
A look of apprehension crossed over Tsetseg's face, and she took a step backwards.
“The gods do not give second chances. They are angry,” Kelet whispered. “The stars have spoken that the Zakhiral would rule poorly, and they would not see the fall of the East. The Zakhiral did not trust Shöniin Burkhan. Tell the council what I have told you, for the gods have appointed another.”
“Whom have they appointed?” Tsetseg asked, watching as the fire flickered yet over the body of the former Zakhiral.
“Take me to my observatory, and bring the council to meet me,” Kelet whispered. “The former Zakhiral gave much warning to my ears before the gods deemed take him. I will have much to share.”
“What of the Zakhiral?” Tsetseg wondered, her hand now coming to cover her nose at the reek of him.
“Take him from my chambers,” Kelet answered, still staring from the window. “...And bring me a new gown.”
“I will do so,” Tsetseg bowed at her back, and then retreated. Kelet could hear the as the door was barred and locked behind her. She could hear how Tsetseg's feet began to run down the spiral staircase, and Kelet's hands began to shake uncontrollably through a swirl of sickening fears as her eyes peered deep into the western sky and bid the sweet scented air of her dreams return.