It's so dark in here. Strange, usually Jhe h'Logos has enough light to write by. Still, in the low light I can make out the barest details of Jhe h'Logos's suite as Gerude scans over every inch of his surroundings, Kennit always at the ready. The hardwood floor is getting stained by our bloody footprints, but I think that's the least of anyone's worries right now. The furniture here seems relatively undisturbed, and I see no other signs of blood. Once we get past the wood flooring, its on to deep red carpets. The soft squishy feel of them is strange to my bare foot. Somehow it's reminiscent of tromping through corpses, and the similarity makes me shiver through and through.
The doors close behind us once we step all the way through, sealing together with a low boom that somehow seems utterly final. We're in complete blackness now - what I thought was low lighting was really the lighting from outside the suite, glowing through the open door. The locking mechanisms whisper, and then there's the final click that means the doors won't be opened again unless the primary resident here wills that it happen.
"Are we safe now?" whispers Jaxie as we stand there, unsure of where to go next.
"Come in," says a voice further down. I recognize the voice of my King. Even through the overwhelming relief I feel, though, something seems wrong. But what? I just can't figure it out. Still, I step forward as Gerude does. He, at least, seems to be at ease. "Jhe Edward? Is something wrong? You are in good health, are you not?" That last comment has just a slight tense note to it. I don't blame him for being wary of the ill right now.
"Yes," I say in relief. "We're just tired. Jhe h'Logos, terrible things have been happening outside-- I'm so glad that you're safe."
"Safe as can be. 'Sy's been protecting me all this time."
There's another wave of relief, flooding over me like water, a wave more immense than all the blood I've seen today could make. I see Gerude almost fall down with the revelation. Erynn really had just been blocking the Judge, which means we really can bring back the fallen. We're almost to Jhe h'Logos now, and as we approach, that niggling worry in the back of my mind is escalating into a scream of alarm. Still, everything's going to be okay. If Jhe h'Logos is alive, that means everything Erynn did wrong can be put to rights.
Wait... wait a minute... no, I lost it again. What's nagging at me?
Jhe h'Logos is sitting on his bed, the door to his bedchamber open. There's a single lamp lighting the chamber, the glow flickering and darting and causing shadows that chase each other across the wall. He looks in good health, which is a relief. His constitution is sometimes ailing, and we've often been put on watches to ensure to his continuing vitality. Jhe h'Akribastes has imparted to those of us in the know at the top that it's something passed on to Jhe h'Logos from the Xaillyndesse bloodline, and it can't be helped. It's rare to see our King looking so strong, so full of vitality. Perhaps that's what seems so strange about him. He smiles when he sees us. "Jhe Jaxhelshon? Such a relief. It's the children I worried after the most. Such a happy thing, to see another come to me safe."
My heart leaps. "Another?" I kneel down on the floor as Jaxie starts to squirm. I let him run to the King.
He smiles to me, then nods as he strokes Jaxie's hair. He gestures to someone over at the side. "Come here," he says in a soft voice, cooing. "Jhe Edward's apparently been worrying after you, dear."
Stevane comes walking up to Jhe h'Logos, all smiles, a bounce in her step, as it all comes clear in my mind. Too late, though. It all clicks right as Stevane looks up at me. She's grinning, her face framed by perfect red curls. Those curls aren't nearly as red as the blood that lines her lips and seems to fill up her very eyeballs.
Erynn's dead, you see. If this were just his exercise, and all this failure were just him trying to prove himself, then everything would have gone back to normal when he died. That's how it always works, but I was too wrapped up in our struggles to wonder about it, or even remember. Now, we're all going to die.
Jhe h'Logos smiles up at me, stroking my little brother's hair with a hand that's just a little bit paler than even our ailing King's skin should be. The grey tint is so easily concealed by the low lamplight. It's only now that I can make out the red glisten of Jhe h'Logos's eyes. But he's just so very well preserved, and... and he's articulate! My doom's crashing down all around me. This was real the whole time? Couldn't I have stopped it?
No, I still can! There's Gerude--
Gerude raises his Arms too late. They don't even fire. It's more like a dull click. He was going to shoot Jhe h'Logos, or maybe even his own little sister Stevane. I'm sure he was going to do something very valiant. But I can't blame him for not firing. I can't blame even Kennit for not firing.
For Jhe h'Akribastes is looming over him now, having risen from the shadowed corner that Stevane was sitting at before coming to join Jaxie at Jhe h'Logos's knee. The commander of the Armed is very tall, very foreboding, and very, very dead.
His expression is the same deadpan he faces every situation with, even in dead. There's a great gaping hole in his neck, but the blood's all done flowing now. There are no eyes in his sockets. I hear a slurping noise. My eyes dart over to Stevane.
She's licking one of those now-dull golden eyes as if it was a popsicle. She looks at Jaxie, then, and offers the other one to him. "Shey h'ghLete said aye cud haff em," she mumbles through a mouth that's well-preserved, but not more than than Jhe h'Logos's (or h'Lete's, if you're Stevane). Already it's beginning to rot, teeth wiggling against her tongue in the growing mush.
The former Jhe h'Logos smiles beautifically. "It's fine to stare, Jhe Stevane, but you need to eat your food a bit faster before you go bad." She nods and pops the eyeball into her mouth at the prompt. Then, before Jaxie can close his now-gaping mouth, she grabs his head and shoves the other eyeball down his throat.
My poor brother begins to gag as a shadow falls over me. The Judge has drawn closer. He's drawn his weapon. Diyn, the great Trident, which once glistened like polished silver, has a dull reddish dark tone to it, as if it were dipped in blood so long that it stained. Rust? Is the Trident rusting as the Judge rots?
Jaxie's gags are dissolving into a long gurgle. "Quick now," says Jhe h'Logos, "you must eat before you rot! The best food is hard to come by, but it's right in front of you."
My heart is hammering inside of my chest. Why can't I move? Why can't I speak? Why can't I even write in self-defense? I am a Poet, right? That's what I do - I right things by writing them!
My brother's low, long groan cuts through my thoughts. It's getting closer. All I can see is the Judge. He fills my entire field of vision. Gerude's gun is clicking, but there's no fire. It's as if his Arms are empty of bullets. Jhe h'Akribastes levels the Trident at the boy, the center tine focused right on the boy's throat. Gerude just stares up at him, eyes widened with disbelief that he could be betrayed by his own Father, by the Law itself.
Then, the boy raises his remaining Arms, closes his eyes, and blows his brains out with one final shot. His corpse slumps to the floor. The inside of his face drips down the left side of mine.
"Hrmph." The undead Judge rolls his eyes, turns, and pays me absolutely no mind as he walks to Jhe h'Logos and the two children. The Trident fades from view and then dissipates. The Judge sinks to his knees, then extends an arm. Stevane rolls up the sleeve, then guides Jaxie to begin chewing. My brother's flesh is pale and grey, his eyes dull, but other than that he's unharmed. For some reason, that makes me feel better about how things have turned out, and the fact that I do feel better disgusts me most of all. There's just the slurp-slurp sound of Jaxie's teeth sinking into too-soft flesh, just me watching this happening.
Am I a Poet? Might I just as well not be? I couldn't stop any of this, and my King... the very person that defines who we are as Poets... he's smiling at me. Smiling, this pristine corpse, and just as patient and cheerful as ever.
"I ate quickly," he explains. "'Sy was ever so close, the dear. He protected me, even to the last. And then beyond the very last, you see, dear Edward. There's something a bit magical to the original, ageless Radians such as he. There's something of a kind of preservation to the Law which he embodies. So he's been feeding us, you see. Stevane picked the eyeballs, they're her favorite."
Something turns in my stomach. I'm sure I'm going to puke.
"Won't you join us, Edward?" He smiles at me. It's such an utterly unthreatening expression, as if he's extending all the good will in the world to me through his offer. "It's ever so nice. I feel more powerful than I've ever felt in my weak, short life. I have thoughts I've never thought before. The mind is capable of so much more without all that noisome pulsing inside it drowning out all clarity. I see the world in colors that I can't even describe through paint. And oh... Edward. Just think... think of the music you'll be able to make now. Now that you'll be able to hear without your own pulse drowning out the clarity of silence..."
I can't say anything. I'm not a Poet anymore, am I? Not with a King whose seductive reasoning has me half-convinced he's right. If I couldn't stop this, then I never was a Poet. I've just been faking it all this time. If they'd given Erynn to a different Poet, all of this would have never happened. I'm the one who really failed. I think this as tiny hands curl around my wrist.
Jaxie stares up at me, eyes a little gooey, but otherwise almost as cute as ever. Stevane takes my other wrist.
"Cn eat him, Shey h'ghLete?" Stevane gives the King a pleading look.
Elete rises, replying with such a kind smile for such a dead face. "No, honey. I'll do the duty. You just hold him tight, hmm? I'm getting a little hungry." He chuckles. "You can pay tithe to your King, Jhe Edward? Just a peck... on the cheek, even..." He chuckles, the sound wandering into a gargle at the end.
I try pull away from Stevane and Jaxie's grasp, but they hold me tight. They're too damn strong now. I'm stuck. The undead King is looming over me, and all I can do is look up at him.
He takes me by the chin and tilts my head up. His cold touch is somehow gentle. "Don't you have any last words, Poet?" His voice is low, between a purr and a growl. I wonder if his throat is rotting even as he's standing there. I have an odd urge to beg him to gnaw on the Judge a little more, to preserve himself. Even in this state, I can't help but love him.
I don't reply. There are no words for this. There is only silence.
"So be it," he says, and leans forward to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of my cheek. They pinch the skin lightly, then dig in further, still not breaking it just yet. When they do, I wonder how long it will take until I'm another one of his kind... and how long before I'll be munching alongside Stevane on the Judge's cold dead bones.
Then the King licks me, says "Nom nom nom," and leans away. The lights are on. "You passed, Erynn," he says while looking over my shoulder.
* * *
I'm in the infirmary again, but this time it's me in the bed and not Stevane. She was with me for a time, reassuring me again and again that she was alright. By the look of her and Jaxie's wide eyes, and by her final question, I'm pretty sure she saw the Hall's recent events a little differently than I did.
'But wasn't it fun, Uncle Edward?'
I'm in a private room. Jhe h'Logos looks at me from his seat next to the bed. He's the only one here, though I can see the shadow of the Judge almost hanging over him, as if Jhe h'Akribastes is in the room as well. Maybe he's overlooking to ensure Jhe h'Logos's safety. After all, it's been a rough night.
Thankfully, Erynn isn't in here. I wouldn't be able to take looking at his smug, gloating expression while lying here like some sort of stroke victim.
"Is that really necessary, Jhe Cruxradia?" Jhe h'Logos is not wearing the smile that never seemed to leave his face while he was 'dead'. Instead he shows worry, spiced with what might be disappointment.
A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach. What I feared was right, wasn't it? How can I go on like this? How can I live in disgrace? "Is what necessary, my King?"
He tilts his head to the side, prodding a little at my thoughts. "Your constant deriding of Jhe Erynn, when he has done nothing wrong as your student. Has, in fact, succeeded. He was only happy to be able to graduate and leave the trainee level. He was only happy to prove himself. Whatever else you saw in him tonight, you were reading into him. And why?"
That stone sinks further. Possibly I'm trying to digest it. I know I'll fail, which gives me even more of a sinking feeling.
"Have you been trying to hide something, Jhe Cruxradia?" He doesn't look accusatory now, only sad. That's the worst part, I think. Worse even than the fact that I can almost see Jhe h'Akribastes over his shoulder.
I shake my head. I don't want him to find it. I don't. But...
"But I already know." He sighs, rising. It's as if he's joining the Judge by the window. He keeps his back to it, though, looking at me with sympathy. "Your fear, Jhe Edward, is that you are not a proper Poet at all. Isn't it?"
I only look away.
"Tell me," he says. "Just tell me, and everything will be alright. I promise."
I bite my lip. "I'm not a proper Poet, though. It's true."
Jhe h'Logos snorts. "You're certainly not the first to let it eat away at them. I even endured my entire childhood in that fear. But I was surrounded by adults who constantly derided my efforts and aspirations, whereas you flourished in an upbringing that encouraged your art. I train you, I approve your matriculation, I request that you stay on to train others of high calibre, I give you highly skilled trainees such as Jhe Erynn, and still you doubt yourself? Shall I nominate you to be King when I pass along the crown?"
"No!" I exclaim, though the idea does have some merit to me.
"Good, because I'm not passing my crown to anyone, it is mine." Jhe h'Logos sighs, tucks away a stray strand of hair, and continues. "Jhe Erynn's exercise was necessary. It was his only available option left to prove to you that he had found your fear and could properly address and exploit it. Those are your criteria for graduation, which he met several times before addressing me regarding the problem. You have been holding him back for a reason, Jhe Edward - to hide the existence of your fear. Perhaps because you did not want others to exploit it... or perhaps because it was dangerously real to you. We all have that fear, you know. You've even taught Poets to defend against it. But when you yourself are pressed on it, you stifle the growth of your own students in favor of keeping your own comfort."
I just nod. When I blink, I see Jhe h'Akribastes behind him, and then he's gone again. It's ten times better, at least, than seeing my King as a walking corpse. That nightmare will haunt me to my dying days.
"The people who participated in Jhe Erynn's little event thought that they were scaring you through the more gory content of the masquerade. They are not aware of just what meaning might be behind all this. Even Jhe Erynn does not realize just how deep your fear runs. He was just happy to succeed. He bears you no ill will and I hope that you will remember what it was like to be a young, hopeful trainee with aspirations of grandeur." He smiles. "Surely you still have those same aspirations? I have been looking forward to seeing your final touches on your recent work."
I blink. "I... yes."
"Well, you can't very well be a Poet without aspirations of something, yes? So that is a relief. I don't worry about you, Jhe Edward. I don't worry about any of my students. Of those who come to me with potential, I rarely have to turn any away, and when I do so I do it early. Now, rest and recuperate."
I think over that as he makes the motion to leave. "Wait," I say.
He pauses, his hand on the door. "Yes?" The Judge's presence is so strong that he's semi-transparent, just barely glaring over the Poet King's shoulder.
"I'm sorry for taking my fears out on my trainee. I'm sorry for trying to defend myself through lies instead of Poetry. Thank you for taking the time to help both of us." There's more I should be saying, but I can't really get it out now. Later. There will always be a later. Everyone is alive, and there will always be a later.
He smiles. There's so much relief in that one expression. The Judge's shadow vanishes from the room completely, and then I realize that I was being held to the Law over the mistakes I was making. Perhaps, then, the Advocate herself heard my apology. One can always have hope. "Good. Get some rest. I daresay you've earned it."
He leaves. I close my eyes.
* * *
END
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