Aeothe - Bonding Flashback

[Aeothe Dagian]

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EDGE OF SKYINTARA MOUNTAIN, WINTER 510 AV

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I am Dek.

That is all I can think as I huddle against the cold stone wall, the shreds of my lontev gathered around me to keep me warm against the freezing Skyinarta wind. Gods, it is cold. So, so cold. And yet I burn. Upon the surface of my steaming skin, I burn. In my boiling chest, I burn. Down my bleeding legs, I burn. I burn.

I am Dek.

I close my eyes tightly, try to shut out the feelings, the images, the words. Try to keep all the fury inside. When they laughed at my ineptitude, did I complain? When they ordered me around so ruthlessly, did I complain? When they released their screaming rage upon my back, did I complain? Did I complain?

I am Dek.

I should not complain. That is a world away from what I did. I did not complain. Not once. I stood strong and did what they told me to and groveled at their feet and it was not enough. It was still not enough. They do not want to see me cry, they do not want to see me bow, they do not want to see me starve or scream. They want to see me broken. They want to hold me in both hands and snap and tear until I shatter. Does it even matter?

I am Dek.

My shoulders curl, my throat constricts. I know this feeling. I know how to keep my face empty, to hold it back. Even now in the pool of blood I can see my eyes, blurry, shaking. Empty of the pain inside of me. Gods, it is cold. I fight the growing despair climbing up my chest, weaving in between my ribs and seeping out of my veins. There must have been something I could have done. There must have been something I did to deserve this. Was I provocative? Was I inviting? Was I not obedient enough, not quiet enough, not weak as I should be?

I am Dek.

I begin to cry. I swore that I would not, that I would never, but now I do. I cry. Big, hot, gasping tears, rolling down my cheeks, their salty moisture dripping to my lips. I open my mouth to catch them. I taste blood. The numbness is leaving me as physical sensation sets in. The terrible fire in my chest, the throbbing ache between my legs, the cut on my brow, the torn strands of my hair. I realize I’ve bitten holes inside my cheeks. The ragged flesh tastes warm. I try to move, one miniscule movement, and break into fresh sobs as a searing pain shoots up my chest. I think a rib is broken.

I am Dek.

I know where I should be. They will be wondering if I’ve finally given up. Tried to run away. Eaten a poisonous plant. Left this world behind somehow. Surely they will be angry. Punishment. Fear chokes me. They will punish me. I should have been there an hour ago. More? I cannot tell. All I know is that they will find me, and they will beat me until my heart stops. Until every breath has been torn from my sundered body, and the light has left my eyes.

I am Dek.

I cannot let this happen. I cannot let myself be ripped to shreds. Of all the Dek, I was always the model slave, the exemplary idol for the hopeless. I was the one everyone could count on, everyone could strike, and feel the satisfaction of a woman cowering before them, but never fleeing, never uttering a word, a sound. I know that some of them even care about me, slip me food they know I can’t accept, make sure I get a blanket in the winter. I remember the hushed whispers this night. Was it really this night? It seems ten decades ago.

I am Dek.

How foolish I was. To think this was real. To think this could be. I think it was the whispers that convinced me. A hand around my waist, another entwined with my own. Beautiful eyes they were. Beautiful, free, wild eyes, as blue as a mountain range in the mist of autumn mornings. Him staring at me. How it made the people whisper! To think, a Dek, dancing with an Endal. I still feel his heat in the crook of my back, on my arm, my cheek, my lips, my thighs….

I am Dek.

How stupid. How stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, to think that this was real. He must have caught my glances, he must have must have known. How I admired the way he would effortlessly jump from one ledge to another with the nimble grace of a cat. How I admired the way his servants never bore a bruise on their skin. Now I’ve learned the hard way there are far worse places to be bruised. I can’t imagine how I couldn’t tell by the hungry way he looked at me that this was not sincere. That he was a cat, yes, that I knew. But I was too foolish to realize who was the mouse. It was I.

I am Dek.

I don’t know why he bothered. I do. I just don’t understand. To take the hope of the hopeless and drive a sword through it, to grind with serrated edges against her flesh. To dig your talons deeper till they cut like knives. And then fly off, unharmed, untouched. The injustice of it hits me as it never has before. There will be no trial. There will be no questions. There will be no repercussions for the man who danced with me, spoke to me, brought me here, took me, against my will, against all reason. I will face the consequences alone, and there will be no mercy wasted on me, no thoughts spared for a Dek, daughter of a Dek, son of a Dek, always a Dek. That’s how far it goes back. My mother was one, my father was one, my grandfather. We are all Dek.

I am Dek.

I am the victim, but I know that in the eyes of Inarta law, I can only perpetrate. I am the bleeding one, and yet the sword that cut me is as guiltless as an axe that fells a tree. A floor that breaks a vase. A weapon on a Dek. It’s all the same. I cannot sit like this, in the rain and wind. I rise. Half of the crumpled fabric surrounding me slides off upon the ground, leaving my shaking, stained legs bare. I don’t care to cover them. I know where I am going. I won’t need clothes there.

I am Dek.

My mother was Dek. My father was Dek. My grandfathers, grandmothers were Dek. But my great-grandparents were not Dek. They were some of the greatest Endal in Wind Reach. I know this because of the records. Written in spidery script on vellum that I cleaned - titles. Theirs were very, very honorary titles. If only I had had another chance at Bonding. I am sure that I could do it. The crazy hope flares up so strong, so strong. I haven’t felt like this since – since – since I was not yet Dek. Not even destined, technically, until I was tried. Before I failed. Failed as my parents had. My grandparents. But not my great-grandparents. They were among the greatest Endal in Wind Reach.

I am Dek.

I can be different. I can be an Endal. If I truly set my mind to it, if I truly believe it, surely I can make it real. I can. I can. I can. I can do it. I can! I stumble through the opening as the rain begins to shower me, matting my sweaty hair against my scalp, rinsing the caked blood off my broken body. They are out there. I know they are out there. I begin to climb up the path, scaling the side of the mountain, shivering violently in the cold, in the rain. I don’t know where the rest of my tunic went. In any case it’s gone. I collapse against a boulder and blood spurts upon it. I look down and see why my chest is in such pain. He cut me across the stomach. He cut me. He hacking cut me. I realize now. It comes back. I spew it out, I spew it out. I retch onto the rocks so slick with rain. I refuse to believe. I can be different. I can be an Endal.

I am Dek.

Their cries already fill the air. My fingers claw around the rocks. My skin is white, turning blue. I open my mouth and cry back. Clear and filled with wind. My voice. It is beautiful. I know this. It is the only thing about me that I love. That I believe in. That gives me faith in myself. I reach out my mind, tentatively at first, then in a surge. I call them as they begin to circle, dozens of them, flapping and rustling and whistling as the rain pelts their feathers. I can attract this many. I’ve done it before. Moths to a flame.

I am Dek.

Just a couple more heaves with my tired body and I will be there – an outcropping. I can tell from the bird shit and the twigs that there will be an eagle there. Those four heaves are the worst of my life, painful and blood-streaked and freezing. I feel like retching again when I finally push my body over the edge and come face to face with the golden eyes of a baby Wind Eagle. It stares at me. I can feel its calculating gaze assessing me. Its sharp yellow beak still soft. I have been here before. Many, many times before. And every time, I failed.

I am Dek.

Now comes the hard part. The part where I Bond. I start inside of me as the instructor said, try to recall her words – unravel the spool of thread, girl. Let it flow from you, tumble out of you, twine around the Eagle that will be yours. Draw it to you with soothing words. But I can’t. I am trying to tear it out of my body, but I can’t. Nonsense. I refuse to believe. I can be different. I can be an Endal.

I am Dek.

My mother was Dek. My father was Dek. My grandfathers, grandmothers were Dek. But my great-grandparents were not Dek. They were some of the greatest Endal in Wind Reach. The spool is falling. The thread is petering out, thin and frail, easily torn in the wind and the cold. I won’t make it. The Eagles circling above me begin to leave. Flying away. Leaving. The black shadows billowing past as my voice begins to crack. The Eagle chick is quickly fading from my mind as the telepathy shivers, then extinguishes. As I fail. Fail. Fail as only Dek can.

I am Dek.

I begin to weep even harder. The sobs rack my body, make my chest quake, sends the blood pumping out of that hacking cut again. He cut me. He hacking cut me. He told me Do it or die. If you scream, I cut you. If you scream. I screamed. I screamed. Hacking stupid. I screamed. How stupid stupid stupid. I screamed, he cut me, I died.

I am Dek.

I look out over the ledge, fighting to regain consciousness. The last Eagle swoops down into the gray, shapeless void. I could follow. I could fly into the abyss. Tomorrow in the sun they would go out and find my shattered body empty. And I would be gone from this terror, this pain, this cruelty that is my life, our world. I would be free.

I am Dek.

But I can’t. I’m standing there and my toes curl over the edge and I can’t. I hacking can’t. I am a failure. I wish I could die. I know I could die. Just one step. But I’m not even brave enough to do that. The wind rushes at me and almost tilts me over the edge. Suddenly I’m screaming, grabbing the slippery rocks, hanging on for dear life. Dear life? What a joke. What a coward I am. I sink down into the freezing rocks, the shades of gray around me. I will never be free.

I am Dek.

This is the last thing I think as all my energy leaves me and the gray, wet world fades to black.

I am Dek.


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OOC EDIT: Another post including the bonding is coming soon. I am waiting for approval for a deity to appear to me.

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[Aeothe Dagian]

[Reserved.]