Post by Tosca on Jul 17, 2007 11:54:31 GMT 9.5
Well, I'm putting the first chapter up just so I can force myself into thinking of a half-decent plot. ^^
I don't know what the rating will be - I've not really got any idea what the story's gonna be about, so it would be quite remarkable if I did.
Aaanyways. Tis long. My apologies.
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Chapter One
The skies were silver, but not the silver she was used to. It was not the luminous pallor of the dawn, nor the soft dark that veiled the night; not the crystalline grey-blue of the ethereal sea mist nor the burning white of the sun raging fiercely from behind the clouds. It was a winter sky, but it was not graced by the sparkling fall of fresh snow. There was no moon, and no sun. And there were no stars. For a creature practically made from the dust of stars and the blackness of the midnight heavens, a creature so akin to the elements as she, the sight was harrowing. There were no stars. There was nothing. This sky was emptiness… and it reflected all that she felt, all that she had become.
The windborne cold ran deep, stilling her blood, but she didn’t once shiver. It was still there, that numbness, that sensation of hollowness that had entombed her as her senses died away and her very body faded with them – faded from all of mankind’s memory, and from their hearts. She was simply aware of the chill, no longer able to feel it.
For all the translucent silver light, spun from no source, the land offered no distinguishing features for her to identify. The ground was flat, without contours, fissures, ditches or crags. There were no pools, no streams, nothing that moved. There were only dead things; old stones and the corpses of trees. Yet she knew where she was… that she had finally arrived. Mab, Queen of the Old Ways that were no more, stood on the bare ground, amidst the naked stones and the crippled black trees of Anoeth. The Land of the Dead.
The realization struck a terrible blow, as if seeing the world forsake her and feeling herself melt away hadn’t been enough to confirm to Mab that she was actually gone. There wasn’t even the dignity of the Void that might have swallowed her and her defeat into a yawning chasm of oblivion. Here there was clarity, there was consciousness… there was the idea that Mab would have to remain where she was, for all of eternity, dwelling on her fate.
I won’t accept it! Mab raged fiercely, and fought as she had done so many times before, strove with every fibre of her being to escape, to break through the grey clouds, to tear open the landscape stone from stone and rend it apart as if it were a weak veneer over the world she knew. But of course, nothing happened, and the Old Blood no longer stirred in her frozen veins. The magic in her, her spirit, her very essence, was dead. The once great queen was a husk in a barren land, bitter and alone, and – finally – accepting of her fate.
A low, keening cry escaped her lips and cut the still air as Mab stared desolately at the bleak nothingness, barely seeing. The journey had been too long, the battles too harsh, the sacrifices too great for everything to be snuffed out. Centuries of protecting her people had evaporated to insignificance in all minds but her own. And the bitter resentment, the painful memories, the aching loneliness were all her mind could dwell on in this grim place. Where were all the other gods that had shared her fate? She obviously wasn’t the first that the world had forgotten. Why, then, was she alone? Were they wandering other wastelands, thinking the same thoughts? Or did they fade from even this one after a time? The fallen queen’s eyes roamed back and forth across the cheerless land. The trees, the rocks – were they all that was left of the abandoned spirits? Mab, who had had little qualms about transforming humans into such things in the days of her reign, began to wonder, with a touch of fear, if sheer desolation could do the same thing to a god – and how long, how many millennia filled with empty suffering, it would take. Had they all experienced this loss, this raw grief, this internal tempest of anger, and regret, and deep, weary sorrow? Had they all given up as much for their people? Had they fought so hard? Mab turned over the endless, answerless questions in her mind. Did it all die down in the end? Did they forget it all, as their people had forgotten them?
If that was the final ending, she was determined to delay it for as long as possible. She, Queen Mab, was not prepared to lie down and forget, to give up her hold on the last scrap of consciousness and dignity she still retained. She clung to her bitterness, to thoughts of betrayal, of injustice, of her people, of their slaughter and mutiny, of Merlin the wizard. A thin cry tumbled from her mouth before she was aware of it, and angrily she silenced herself before it turned into a sob of pain. Although it hardly seemed important anymore, not even a sky full of nothing was going to witness the once great queen crumble and pule like a whipped dog. Her clothes, her hair, her skin, her entire body was faded, as if the sky was leeching the colour and the form from her in an attempt to make her a reflection of itself. But she’d be damned if she was going to let her hatred fade too, so that she could become nothing more than an ignominious stump of wood, or a rock.
As if to reassert that single, somewhat diminutive element of authority and control she still had, she stared defiantly, challengingly up at the grey firmament, her hatred of its emptiness growing the more attention she paid to it. “I’m sure you’ve seen them all break, eventually.” Mab snarled, half to herself, “but you’re going to have a long, long wait this time. I can promise you.” As if daring the vacuous sea of nothing to throw down a thunderbolt from the non-existent clouds, Mab narrowed her eyes and glared.
“Really, Mab, I’d say that if you’re genuinely expecting the sky to answer, it’s won the battle already.”
Mab whirled around, her long skirts rustling over the ground, her hair whipping unhelpfully across her face as she tried to check the wild motion and return to a state of dignified composure. The expression that adorned her face as she stared at the man striding towards her did her no favours in that respect. He advanced, a broad grin spread across his face – Idath, the Lord of Winter, of Anoeth, and of Death itself. He was much the same as he always was; eyes and hair glowing cardinal against the sombre background, dressed in his usual hunting attire that, in its finery, proclaimed his status as leader of the Wild Hunt.
Mab should have been overcome with joy to see him of course; he was a walking contradiction to her theory of simply existing as the only conscious shade in a whole world of inanimate ones. Not only that, but the Lord of Death was someone she recognized, was familiar with, and not mortal enemies with, which, for Mab, should be ample cause for celebration. However, Mab did not appreciate his appearance in the slightest. For one thing, even if he wasn’t responsible for her ending up here, he had carried away the soul of her last love, Mordred, when she had begged him to spare his life, and thus ended the last hope of the Old Ways’ salvation. Also, Mab’s past with Idath was far too turbulent for the exchange of mere pleasantries to be at all likely. And thirdly – the amused grin upon his rugged face was far too wide for him to be feeling anything like sympathy.
“You must always have something to be at war with.” Idath acknowledged as he drew up to her, with a touch of fondness that would have softened the words had Mab cared to appreciate it. “Even if it’s a patch of air.” Stopping before Mab, he smiled roguishly, no hint of regret or remorse for her fate visible on his features.
“I’m glad you haven’t come expecting niceties, Idath.” Mab snarled fiercely, her harsh serpent’s voice setting even dead air aquiver, and matched only by the resonant tones of Idath’s laughter.
“I’ve learned never to expect anything bordering on the realms of niceties from you, Madame.” Idath replied insincerely, “I merely hope to be pleasantly surprised in my convictions one day.”
The irritated hiss that met his words clearly communicated Mab’s thoughts on the likelihood of that ever happening. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” she countered icily, “I’m in no mood for your foolery, Idath.”
She had just died – had just been torn from everything she had known and created and loved – she should not be exchanging banter with the Lord of Death. Idath seemed not to have realized this. He shrugged nonchalantly, completely at ease with the bleak surroundings of the nowhere-place, and seeming fully aware of the fact that Mab wasn’t. “From where I’m standing, you have an eternity to suffer it, milady. You may as well endure it in good grace.”
“I will endure no such thing!” Mab raged, although the retort appeared to have carried some weight. A defiance borne of something like desperation seemed to spur her words, and involuntarily, her eyes swept the grey place once more, as if hoping to witness a change.
“I thought not.” Idath admitted easily, without a trace of chagrin. “You’re nothing if you’re not intractable, my dear.”
She hadn’t expected the Lord of Death to be sympathetic. He had witnessed the ending of every life, had reaped mortals’ shattered souls, seen countries fall to the sword, seen murder, and tyranny, and every form of unjust slaughter that was a part of it. Much as she herself had. There was little point in expecting kindness from a heart so hardened, much less in hoping for favours. Besides, her fate was something she suspected even Idath could not change.
Meeting his eyes, she stared at him stonily. “It will be like this?” She asked passionlessly, “This is it? Forever?” Her lips barely moved; showing weakness before a sky of nothing was one thing – before the fiery eyes of the Lord of Death was quite another.
She fancied she saw lines of emotion form ever so faintly around his eyes. Yet when Idath spoke, his voice contained little more gravity. “No, actually. The reason I came to see you was to offer you an alternative.”
Mab was not as thrilled by this statement as perhaps she should have been. “How dare you,” she growled quietly, “presume to bargain with my life?” And she shot Idath a look of the most poisonous intensity.
“Not your life.” Idath replied bluntly, “That is long gone.” Here he earned himself a bitter glare from the fey queen. “All end up in the Land of the Dead when their time comes, Mab. Even gods. The mortals’ souls are dragged down to Anoeth, and purged of memory and essence by the Wild Hunt, so that they may be reborn again, to savour the taste of life once more.”
“Get on with it.” Mab exhorted throatily. She knew that was not a path she could travel. It was, perhaps, the first time she had thought of mortal kind with any degree of jealousy.
Idath sighed, and held up his hands to placate her. “As you please. Only the gods roam these desolate shores when they are forgotten… the lands of pure nothingness, of solitude. You can travel them all you like, and never will you find another of your kind. It’s possible they may fade, eventually – may become part of the wilderness they are never free of. These twisted old trees had to come from somewhere, I suppose. But most of them find their way to Anoeth anyway, and join the Hunt. The unlucky few – or the stubborn few, I suppose…
“– are condemned to this.” Mab interrupted bitterly.
Idath waved his hand at their empty surroundings and nodded cheerfully.
Mab tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his face. “Go on.” She prompted, as he paused, forcing her into showing some interest. It was said very sullenly, but it seemed to be enough for Idath, who gave a short chuckle and nodded.
“Purely because it’s you, my dear, I thought I might step in directly, present all your options to you, and leave it to choice rather than to mere luck.”
“That’s it?” Mab snapped, “You came to offer me the choice between two paths that were already open to me anyway?” She looked scornfully at Idath, her mouth curling.
“You always seemed to appreciate such a choice before.” He pointed out kindly, and most unhelpfully. “And I had to think up some reason to come and greet you, did I not?”
Mab was thoroughly annoyed, though she couldn’t say she had any real reason to be. What had she been hoping for? A way out? A miracle? She knew that was hopeless – she, the weaver of miracles, knew that better than any. A god’s power rested solely in mortal belief; faith was their very sustenance. Without it, they, and the wonders they were responsible for, faded from the world. Mab wondered if the mortals knew what exactly they were letting themselves in for.
“Mab?” Idath prompted, causing Mab to look up sharply, her chain of thought broken. “Please do let me know if you come to a decision. Life – and death – must go on.”
Mab was fully aware that he knew which option would be infinitely more preferable to her, and also that she wouldn’t choose the other just to spite him. She couldn’t bear this place. Although, the promise of pure oblivion at the end of it was something she found herself almost hungering for, though she refused to acknowledge it. And it was that stubborn refusal to admit defeat that he was counting on. She would choose any degree of pain over that.
“It seems I have little choice.” She spat bitterly, inclining her head. “Very well, Idath; you have it your way. Now, get me out of this forsaken place.” She glared hatefully at everything that surrounded her, particularly at the Lord of Death himself.
Idath nodded approvingly. “A wise decision, if I may say so.” He acknowledged, a wry smile touching the corners of his mouth. No god or goddess had ever meandered in this place for more than a day – they all ended up among his Wild Hunt in the end. Indeed, finding the gates to Anoeth would have been easy enough had Mab bothered to look, which, once she had finished her brooding and resolved her quarrel with the sky, she would have done. In Anoeth, you could see through illusions as through glass, and so, no lies were uttered. But this wasteland marked the border of Anoeth, and thus was not strictly Anoeth itself – and after all, Idath’s version of the facts was more like a slight bending of the truth anyway. It was simply rather nice to know that she had chosen to accompany him of her own free will. “If you’d like to follow me…”
“I don’t think liking to has anything to do with it.” Mab pointed out waspishly. “I wouldn’t like to be here at all.” A well of anger tried to force its way brutishly into her words, but she swallowed it down. The fact that she was accepting it all, walking blithely after the Lord of Death into his graveyard home, the shame and the injustice, all bubbled fiercely just within her control.
But Idath, as ever, managed to fray the threads of her self-restraint. “Do you really think anyone truly would?” He asked blithely, already turning away to lead the way to the gates of Anoeth. “No one wants to die, Mab.”
Mab had stopped in her tracks. “I am not anyone!” She erupted, her rage finally spilling over. “I am the Queen of the Old Ways! Of Air and Darkness! You know who I am and what I stand for – what I gave to my people, what I sacrificed for them! Don’t treat me like ‘anyone’!”
Idath stopped, and turned grimly. The laughter had faded from his face and, for once, his eyes were sincere. “I have never treated you as merely ‘anyone’.” He replied softly. “But your time is over now, Mab. You will no longer be a queen when you walk through my gates, merely a rider of the Hunt. Your rule has passed, and I would advise you to accept it.”
“Accept it?” Mab spat venomously, “Never! I suppose you think I’m coming with you for the novelty value? Frankly, Idath, oblivion’s an idea that seems fairly appealing by now.” She drew breath to go on in the same vein, but checked herself. Idath was merely staring at her curiously, so she drew herself up, fixed him with a defiant glare, and hissed very slowly, “I am only agreeing to come with you into Anoeth so that I can find a way out. While I’m a part of your Hunt, I still exist in some way. I’m still able to think perfectly clearly, even if I’m dead. And so long as I am lucid, so long as I can function in one way or another, even while I have no power, I will wait. I will find a way to return to my people. And when I return, they will realize what they have forsaken, and they will welcome me.”
Idath smiled gently. “Mab… your people have forgotten you. In the end, you’ll find it easier to swallow. But there’s no more you can do.”
Mab’s determinedly triumphant smile faltered only slightly. Idath’s words struck at a chord of fear that resonated tremblingly deep within her mind. To be helpless – truly helpless – that was all he was saying was left to her. And the sky was still grey, the land around her still cold, empty, leeching away all the conviction she could grasp that he might be wrong. Crippling doubt stilled her tongue and lowered her head, dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, sent an unnatural shiver glancing down her body. She dared not look at Idath for fear of seeing something like sympathy in his gaze.
Suddenly she felt the chill – and she didn’t know whether it came from the gelid air around her or the glacial emptiness within. “I’m… cold.” It was meant to be an indication that they should be moving instead of standing idly about, meant to come out as an expression of disdain, a complaint at the very least – and somehow, her voice twisted it into something weak, and despondent, and pleading.
Idath thought of several responses that involved methods of warming up, and dismissed each consecutively. Awkwardness was not an emotion the Lord of Death was particularly familiar with. Yet to see such a proud creature so humbled, left him at something of a loss. And he had fancied he had grown numb to the cruelty of the world. He shook his head silently. “…I’m sorry.” He murmured, stepping close enough only to lay a strong hand on her shoulder.
Mab’s eyes flickered to the hand, briefly, and that slight movement prompted its withdrawal. An eternity of history troubled the air between them as they stood, separated by something more than distance. But she raised her gaze, and he met it and held it unflinchingly.
“I’m not finished, Idath.” Mab said softly. “I will find my way home.”
There was the opportunity to say something completely foolish – to tell her that if she could come to think of Anoeth as her home, he would be honoured, would be grateful, ridiculously happy… But then there was the much easier choice of giving a bark of wolfish laughter and rejoining the dance of masks and pretences once more – the masks that were impenetrable, even in Anoeth, the land of no lies.
“And I expected no less.” He grinned widely, the hand on Mab’s shoulder tugging her to his side.
Mab expunged all traces of her melancholy disposition similarly swiftly. She wrenched herself sharply away, smoothed her faded clothes in one formal gesture, and glared irritably at Idath, looking as pristine as a newly-dead, stranded sovereign goddess possibly could. “I think you’re mistaking my tolerance for something quite different, Idath. You are escorting me to your realm, not luring me into your lair. I hope that’s not too confusing for you.” The merest ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Do you need me to enlighten you?”
Idath smiled ruefully. “Whatever for?” He replied lightly, “You must at least leave me my idle daydreams.”
“Very well. I trust you can walk and fantasize at the same time? Then stop looking at me like I’m hunting bait and lead the way.”
Another bark of laughter, and Idath shrugged, and nodded, relishing the repartee. “Truly, Mab, it has been too long.” The rich smile, the arm offered like a true gentleman, the sparkling of mirth in the pair of fearsome eyes, it was almost beguiling. “But as you wish.” Not giving her a chance to prove that she could resist such wiles and ignore his extended hand, he clapped his arm around her shoulders once more. Completely disregarding her blunt rebuff, and his apparent acceptance of it, he pulled her rather close to his side, and steered her through the grey, shapeless mists.
Mab shelved her annoyance at being disobeyed so, and for once held her tongue. Her heart rose as, with each step, the grim landscape grew fainter, and fainter, and in the distance a glow of light grew to a majestic flare – that of sunlight gleaming off a pair of magnificent gates.
It was the door to Idath’s realm. And to step in would be to commit herself to it entirely.
Idath turned to her, and observed her for a brief moment. “Well, my love,” He stepped forwards and pushed open the beautiful gates in one fluid motion, and stood there, in the doorway to his vast kingdom. “Will you ride with me?”
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So, it may be quite a while before Chapter Two is up, but hopefully I'll get a burst of inspiration sometime. :]
I don't know what the rating will be - I've not really got any idea what the story's gonna be about, so it would be quite remarkable if I did.
Aaanyways. Tis long. My apologies.
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Chapter One
The skies were silver, but not the silver she was used to. It was not the luminous pallor of the dawn, nor the soft dark that veiled the night; not the crystalline grey-blue of the ethereal sea mist nor the burning white of the sun raging fiercely from behind the clouds. It was a winter sky, but it was not graced by the sparkling fall of fresh snow. There was no moon, and no sun. And there were no stars. For a creature practically made from the dust of stars and the blackness of the midnight heavens, a creature so akin to the elements as she, the sight was harrowing. There were no stars. There was nothing. This sky was emptiness… and it reflected all that she felt, all that she had become.
The windborne cold ran deep, stilling her blood, but she didn’t once shiver. It was still there, that numbness, that sensation of hollowness that had entombed her as her senses died away and her very body faded with them – faded from all of mankind’s memory, and from their hearts. She was simply aware of the chill, no longer able to feel it.
For all the translucent silver light, spun from no source, the land offered no distinguishing features for her to identify. The ground was flat, without contours, fissures, ditches or crags. There were no pools, no streams, nothing that moved. There were only dead things; old stones and the corpses of trees. Yet she knew where she was… that she had finally arrived. Mab, Queen of the Old Ways that were no more, stood on the bare ground, amidst the naked stones and the crippled black trees of Anoeth. The Land of the Dead.
The realization struck a terrible blow, as if seeing the world forsake her and feeling herself melt away hadn’t been enough to confirm to Mab that she was actually gone. There wasn’t even the dignity of the Void that might have swallowed her and her defeat into a yawning chasm of oblivion. Here there was clarity, there was consciousness… there was the idea that Mab would have to remain where she was, for all of eternity, dwelling on her fate.
I won’t accept it! Mab raged fiercely, and fought as she had done so many times before, strove with every fibre of her being to escape, to break through the grey clouds, to tear open the landscape stone from stone and rend it apart as if it were a weak veneer over the world she knew. But of course, nothing happened, and the Old Blood no longer stirred in her frozen veins. The magic in her, her spirit, her very essence, was dead. The once great queen was a husk in a barren land, bitter and alone, and – finally – accepting of her fate.
A low, keening cry escaped her lips and cut the still air as Mab stared desolately at the bleak nothingness, barely seeing. The journey had been too long, the battles too harsh, the sacrifices too great for everything to be snuffed out. Centuries of protecting her people had evaporated to insignificance in all minds but her own. And the bitter resentment, the painful memories, the aching loneliness were all her mind could dwell on in this grim place. Where were all the other gods that had shared her fate? She obviously wasn’t the first that the world had forgotten. Why, then, was she alone? Were they wandering other wastelands, thinking the same thoughts? Or did they fade from even this one after a time? The fallen queen’s eyes roamed back and forth across the cheerless land. The trees, the rocks – were they all that was left of the abandoned spirits? Mab, who had had little qualms about transforming humans into such things in the days of her reign, began to wonder, with a touch of fear, if sheer desolation could do the same thing to a god – and how long, how many millennia filled with empty suffering, it would take. Had they all experienced this loss, this raw grief, this internal tempest of anger, and regret, and deep, weary sorrow? Had they all given up as much for their people? Had they fought so hard? Mab turned over the endless, answerless questions in her mind. Did it all die down in the end? Did they forget it all, as their people had forgotten them?
If that was the final ending, she was determined to delay it for as long as possible. She, Queen Mab, was not prepared to lie down and forget, to give up her hold on the last scrap of consciousness and dignity she still retained. She clung to her bitterness, to thoughts of betrayal, of injustice, of her people, of their slaughter and mutiny, of Merlin the wizard. A thin cry tumbled from her mouth before she was aware of it, and angrily she silenced herself before it turned into a sob of pain. Although it hardly seemed important anymore, not even a sky full of nothing was going to witness the once great queen crumble and pule like a whipped dog. Her clothes, her hair, her skin, her entire body was faded, as if the sky was leeching the colour and the form from her in an attempt to make her a reflection of itself. But she’d be damned if she was going to let her hatred fade too, so that she could become nothing more than an ignominious stump of wood, or a rock.
As if to reassert that single, somewhat diminutive element of authority and control she still had, she stared defiantly, challengingly up at the grey firmament, her hatred of its emptiness growing the more attention she paid to it. “I’m sure you’ve seen them all break, eventually.” Mab snarled, half to herself, “but you’re going to have a long, long wait this time. I can promise you.” As if daring the vacuous sea of nothing to throw down a thunderbolt from the non-existent clouds, Mab narrowed her eyes and glared.
“Really, Mab, I’d say that if you’re genuinely expecting the sky to answer, it’s won the battle already.”
Mab whirled around, her long skirts rustling over the ground, her hair whipping unhelpfully across her face as she tried to check the wild motion and return to a state of dignified composure. The expression that adorned her face as she stared at the man striding towards her did her no favours in that respect. He advanced, a broad grin spread across his face – Idath, the Lord of Winter, of Anoeth, and of Death itself. He was much the same as he always was; eyes and hair glowing cardinal against the sombre background, dressed in his usual hunting attire that, in its finery, proclaimed his status as leader of the Wild Hunt.
Mab should have been overcome with joy to see him of course; he was a walking contradiction to her theory of simply existing as the only conscious shade in a whole world of inanimate ones. Not only that, but the Lord of Death was someone she recognized, was familiar with, and not mortal enemies with, which, for Mab, should be ample cause for celebration. However, Mab did not appreciate his appearance in the slightest. For one thing, even if he wasn’t responsible for her ending up here, he had carried away the soul of her last love, Mordred, when she had begged him to spare his life, and thus ended the last hope of the Old Ways’ salvation. Also, Mab’s past with Idath was far too turbulent for the exchange of mere pleasantries to be at all likely. And thirdly – the amused grin upon his rugged face was far too wide for him to be feeling anything like sympathy.
“You must always have something to be at war with.” Idath acknowledged as he drew up to her, with a touch of fondness that would have softened the words had Mab cared to appreciate it. “Even if it’s a patch of air.” Stopping before Mab, he smiled roguishly, no hint of regret or remorse for her fate visible on his features.
“I’m glad you haven’t come expecting niceties, Idath.” Mab snarled fiercely, her harsh serpent’s voice setting even dead air aquiver, and matched only by the resonant tones of Idath’s laughter.
“I’ve learned never to expect anything bordering on the realms of niceties from you, Madame.” Idath replied insincerely, “I merely hope to be pleasantly surprised in my convictions one day.”
The irritated hiss that met his words clearly communicated Mab’s thoughts on the likelihood of that ever happening. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” she countered icily, “I’m in no mood for your foolery, Idath.”
She had just died – had just been torn from everything she had known and created and loved – she should not be exchanging banter with the Lord of Death. Idath seemed not to have realized this. He shrugged nonchalantly, completely at ease with the bleak surroundings of the nowhere-place, and seeming fully aware of the fact that Mab wasn’t. “From where I’m standing, you have an eternity to suffer it, milady. You may as well endure it in good grace.”
“I will endure no such thing!” Mab raged, although the retort appeared to have carried some weight. A defiance borne of something like desperation seemed to spur her words, and involuntarily, her eyes swept the grey place once more, as if hoping to witness a change.
“I thought not.” Idath admitted easily, without a trace of chagrin. “You’re nothing if you’re not intractable, my dear.”
She hadn’t expected the Lord of Death to be sympathetic. He had witnessed the ending of every life, had reaped mortals’ shattered souls, seen countries fall to the sword, seen murder, and tyranny, and every form of unjust slaughter that was a part of it. Much as she herself had. There was little point in expecting kindness from a heart so hardened, much less in hoping for favours. Besides, her fate was something she suspected even Idath could not change.
Meeting his eyes, she stared at him stonily. “It will be like this?” She asked passionlessly, “This is it? Forever?” Her lips barely moved; showing weakness before a sky of nothing was one thing – before the fiery eyes of the Lord of Death was quite another.
She fancied she saw lines of emotion form ever so faintly around his eyes. Yet when Idath spoke, his voice contained little more gravity. “No, actually. The reason I came to see you was to offer you an alternative.”
Mab was not as thrilled by this statement as perhaps she should have been. “How dare you,” she growled quietly, “presume to bargain with my life?” And she shot Idath a look of the most poisonous intensity.
“Not your life.” Idath replied bluntly, “That is long gone.” Here he earned himself a bitter glare from the fey queen. “All end up in the Land of the Dead when their time comes, Mab. Even gods. The mortals’ souls are dragged down to Anoeth, and purged of memory and essence by the Wild Hunt, so that they may be reborn again, to savour the taste of life once more.”
“Get on with it.” Mab exhorted throatily. She knew that was not a path she could travel. It was, perhaps, the first time she had thought of mortal kind with any degree of jealousy.
Idath sighed, and held up his hands to placate her. “As you please. Only the gods roam these desolate shores when they are forgotten… the lands of pure nothingness, of solitude. You can travel them all you like, and never will you find another of your kind. It’s possible they may fade, eventually – may become part of the wilderness they are never free of. These twisted old trees had to come from somewhere, I suppose. But most of them find their way to Anoeth anyway, and join the Hunt. The unlucky few – or the stubborn few, I suppose…
“– are condemned to this.” Mab interrupted bitterly.
Idath waved his hand at their empty surroundings and nodded cheerfully.
Mab tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his face. “Go on.” She prompted, as he paused, forcing her into showing some interest. It was said very sullenly, but it seemed to be enough for Idath, who gave a short chuckle and nodded.
“Purely because it’s you, my dear, I thought I might step in directly, present all your options to you, and leave it to choice rather than to mere luck.”
“That’s it?” Mab snapped, “You came to offer me the choice between two paths that were already open to me anyway?” She looked scornfully at Idath, her mouth curling.
“You always seemed to appreciate such a choice before.” He pointed out kindly, and most unhelpfully. “And I had to think up some reason to come and greet you, did I not?”
Mab was thoroughly annoyed, though she couldn’t say she had any real reason to be. What had she been hoping for? A way out? A miracle? She knew that was hopeless – she, the weaver of miracles, knew that better than any. A god’s power rested solely in mortal belief; faith was their very sustenance. Without it, they, and the wonders they were responsible for, faded from the world. Mab wondered if the mortals knew what exactly they were letting themselves in for.
“Mab?” Idath prompted, causing Mab to look up sharply, her chain of thought broken. “Please do let me know if you come to a decision. Life – and death – must go on.”
Mab was fully aware that he knew which option would be infinitely more preferable to her, and also that she wouldn’t choose the other just to spite him. She couldn’t bear this place. Although, the promise of pure oblivion at the end of it was something she found herself almost hungering for, though she refused to acknowledge it. And it was that stubborn refusal to admit defeat that he was counting on. She would choose any degree of pain over that.
“It seems I have little choice.” She spat bitterly, inclining her head. “Very well, Idath; you have it your way. Now, get me out of this forsaken place.” She glared hatefully at everything that surrounded her, particularly at the Lord of Death himself.
Idath nodded approvingly. “A wise decision, if I may say so.” He acknowledged, a wry smile touching the corners of his mouth. No god or goddess had ever meandered in this place for more than a day – they all ended up among his Wild Hunt in the end. Indeed, finding the gates to Anoeth would have been easy enough had Mab bothered to look, which, once she had finished her brooding and resolved her quarrel with the sky, she would have done. In Anoeth, you could see through illusions as through glass, and so, no lies were uttered. But this wasteland marked the border of Anoeth, and thus was not strictly Anoeth itself – and after all, Idath’s version of the facts was more like a slight bending of the truth anyway. It was simply rather nice to know that she had chosen to accompany him of her own free will. “If you’d like to follow me…”
“I don’t think liking to has anything to do with it.” Mab pointed out waspishly. “I wouldn’t like to be here at all.” A well of anger tried to force its way brutishly into her words, but she swallowed it down. The fact that she was accepting it all, walking blithely after the Lord of Death into his graveyard home, the shame and the injustice, all bubbled fiercely just within her control.
But Idath, as ever, managed to fray the threads of her self-restraint. “Do you really think anyone truly would?” He asked blithely, already turning away to lead the way to the gates of Anoeth. “No one wants to die, Mab.”
Mab had stopped in her tracks. “I am not anyone!” She erupted, her rage finally spilling over. “I am the Queen of the Old Ways! Of Air and Darkness! You know who I am and what I stand for – what I gave to my people, what I sacrificed for them! Don’t treat me like ‘anyone’!”
Idath stopped, and turned grimly. The laughter had faded from his face and, for once, his eyes were sincere. “I have never treated you as merely ‘anyone’.” He replied softly. “But your time is over now, Mab. You will no longer be a queen when you walk through my gates, merely a rider of the Hunt. Your rule has passed, and I would advise you to accept it.”
“Accept it?” Mab spat venomously, “Never! I suppose you think I’m coming with you for the novelty value? Frankly, Idath, oblivion’s an idea that seems fairly appealing by now.” She drew breath to go on in the same vein, but checked herself. Idath was merely staring at her curiously, so she drew herself up, fixed him with a defiant glare, and hissed very slowly, “I am only agreeing to come with you into Anoeth so that I can find a way out. While I’m a part of your Hunt, I still exist in some way. I’m still able to think perfectly clearly, even if I’m dead. And so long as I am lucid, so long as I can function in one way or another, even while I have no power, I will wait. I will find a way to return to my people. And when I return, they will realize what they have forsaken, and they will welcome me.”
Idath smiled gently. “Mab… your people have forgotten you. In the end, you’ll find it easier to swallow. But there’s no more you can do.”
Mab’s determinedly triumphant smile faltered only slightly. Idath’s words struck at a chord of fear that resonated tremblingly deep within her mind. To be helpless – truly helpless – that was all he was saying was left to her. And the sky was still grey, the land around her still cold, empty, leeching away all the conviction she could grasp that he might be wrong. Crippling doubt stilled her tongue and lowered her head, dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes, sent an unnatural shiver glancing down her body. She dared not look at Idath for fear of seeing something like sympathy in his gaze.
Suddenly she felt the chill – and she didn’t know whether it came from the gelid air around her or the glacial emptiness within. “I’m… cold.” It was meant to be an indication that they should be moving instead of standing idly about, meant to come out as an expression of disdain, a complaint at the very least – and somehow, her voice twisted it into something weak, and despondent, and pleading.
Idath thought of several responses that involved methods of warming up, and dismissed each consecutively. Awkwardness was not an emotion the Lord of Death was particularly familiar with. Yet to see such a proud creature so humbled, left him at something of a loss. And he had fancied he had grown numb to the cruelty of the world. He shook his head silently. “…I’m sorry.” He murmured, stepping close enough only to lay a strong hand on her shoulder.
Mab’s eyes flickered to the hand, briefly, and that slight movement prompted its withdrawal. An eternity of history troubled the air between them as they stood, separated by something more than distance. But she raised her gaze, and he met it and held it unflinchingly.
“I’m not finished, Idath.” Mab said softly. “I will find my way home.”
There was the opportunity to say something completely foolish – to tell her that if she could come to think of Anoeth as her home, he would be honoured, would be grateful, ridiculously happy… But then there was the much easier choice of giving a bark of wolfish laughter and rejoining the dance of masks and pretences once more – the masks that were impenetrable, even in Anoeth, the land of no lies.
“And I expected no less.” He grinned widely, the hand on Mab’s shoulder tugging her to his side.
Mab expunged all traces of her melancholy disposition similarly swiftly. She wrenched herself sharply away, smoothed her faded clothes in one formal gesture, and glared irritably at Idath, looking as pristine as a newly-dead, stranded sovereign goddess possibly could. “I think you’re mistaking my tolerance for something quite different, Idath. You are escorting me to your realm, not luring me into your lair. I hope that’s not too confusing for you.” The merest ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Do you need me to enlighten you?”
Idath smiled ruefully. “Whatever for?” He replied lightly, “You must at least leave me my idle daydreams.”
“Very well. I trust you can walk and fantasize at the same time? Then stop looking at me like I’m hunting bait and lead the way.”
Another bark of laughter, and Idath shrugged, and nodded, relishing the repartee. “Truly, Mab, it has been too long.” The rich smile, the arm offered like a true gentleman, the sparkling of mirth in the pair of fearsome eyes, it was almost beguiling. “But as you wish.” Not giving her a chance to prove that she could resist such wiles and ignore his extended hand, he clapped his arm around her shoulders once more. Completely disregarding her blunt rebuff, and his apparent acceptance of it, he pulled her rather close to his side, and steered her through the grey, shapeless mists.
Mab shelved her annoyance at being disobeyed so, and for once held her tongue. Her heart rose as, with each step, the grim landscape grew fainter, and fainter, and in the distance a glow of light grew to a majestic flare – that of sunlight gleaming off a pair of magnificent gates.
It was the door to Idath’s realm. And to step in would be to commit herself to it entirely.
Idath turned to her, and observed her for a brief moment. “Well, my love,” He stepped forwards and pushed open the beautiful gates in one fluid motion, and stood there, in the doorway to his vast kingdom. “Will you ride with me?”
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So, it may be quite a while before Chapter Two is up, but hopefully I'll get a burst of inspiration sometime. :]
