It took a long time to calm Rajel down. Unthinking, I'd reentered the cell in my Fury form, which sent her into a screaming fit that lasted nearly fifteen minutes. In fact, the only reason she stopped then was because she was too hoarse to continue. Bluto, of course, watched the whole thing through the window, laughing like a hyena.
Eventually I was able to explain that the winged monster was just me in another shape, and that everything I said about not wanting to hurt Rajel was still true. I knew she was going to be okay when she started to ask me questions about the Fury, like why the black fire didn't burn me. I answered as honestly and completely as I could, positive that Bluto would make up lies to frighten her if I didn't. And in the end, she curled up next to me as confidently as before and fell asleep. But her human smell, wafting up at me like a taunt, made my stomach growl harder than ever.
"Kyriel, tell me another story."
It was two days later, and I'd developed the shakes and a hair-trigger temper. The chamberpot, which had been unused before Rajel's arrival, was now full and reeking. Naturally, this only added to my rage. "Shut up, you little shit," I muttered, and pulled myself tighter into the corner. Then my mind cleared and I began to cry weakly. "I'm sorry, Rajel," I whispered, turning reluctantly to face her. "You know I didn't mean that."
"I know." Sitting near the door, Rajel picked relentlessly at her ragged skirt hem. I'd warned her to keep as far away from me as possible, and never to look me in the eye. Not that it would do much good when I snapped. I had no doubt the Fury would find a way to get to her. "Tell me a story?"
"Kyriel, you're scaring me."
"What?" Another day had passed, and now I was sliding in and out of delirium.
"You're scaring me, talking like that."
"Why? What did I say?"
"Mommy never let me say those words. But you were talking about a dagger and a little rat, and your hands were twitching."
"Rajel, come on over here. I want to pet your fur. No, I mean I want to squeeze your hair. No, I mean--"
The child gazed at me from her corner with a mixture of horror and sympathy. It was the latter that finally brought me out of my daze. We'd been together five days now, and my skin was growing dark and scaly over protuberant bones. I could hardly stand to look at Rajel now. Every breath, every mannerism, was fuel for my rage. And the only escape from rage was delirium, which seemed like a better alternative every moment.
It would save a lot of trouble if I just gave in now, I thought. The little brat was going to die, anyway. No, wait--I was doing it again. "Rajel," I moaned, "I'm so sorry. I'd save you if I could." For the hundredth time, my mind picked over all the ways I could possibly kill myself. Cut off my head? No good. They'd taken my human weapons the first day, and my Fury dagger couldn't be turned against me. Hang myself with my clothes? Also no good. Even if I could find something to hang from, I didn't need to breathe anyway, and my snapped spine would repair itself the moment I blacked out. Drown myself in Rajel's chamber pot? Ridiculous--and disgusting, to boot. Back to my dagger, since it was the only weapon they couldn't take away from me. But it was still no good. The dagger could cut, but never kill, its own mistress. I could chop off my hands and feet with it, but they'd only grow back. I could even chop...."
There was something important here. I fought through the sludge inside my head, burrowing, burrowing. It was the most important idea I'd ever had in my life, and I was not going to let it get away. There it was! I grabbed it, turned it over in my mental hands, saw that it just might work. Quickly I stood up to look out the window, saw that Laverne was down at the far end of the hall, out of earshot at her guard station. "Rajel," I hissed, "I think I know how to get us out of here."
Laverne came running when she heard the screams. By the time she got to the window, I was crouched with my face in the corner, in Fury form, my sobs as loud as a hurricane wind. Rajel lay sprawled on the floor, at the outer edge of my chain's reach, her chest and throat running with blood.
"Hah!" Laverne cawed, and thrust her key into the doorlock. "I knew it! I bet ten golders you'd break on my watch, and now I got six times that coming back at me. Fury, you're going to make me a rich woman."
The door groaned open and she shuffled in, a big woman with bow legs and greedy, curious eyes. She was determined to drink in the whole scene for posterity's sake, but she knew where the line was, and didn't step close enough for me to reach her. That was just fine, though. As she bent over Rajel, eager to see just where the stab wounds were, the little girl leapt up quick as a knife and jerked away her amulet.
Laverne's mouth got halfway open before I paralyzed her.
"It's my blood," I said, leaning heavily against the corner as I fought to rise. I was weaker than ever; but my mind, for the moment at least, was clear.
The guard's eyes practically bugged out of her head as she struggled with the paralysis--and the fear. Rajel only laughed and stuck out her tongue, then snatched the keys from the guard's helpless hand.
"Now get back to the doorway," I told the girl. And don't give me the keys until I'm finished." It had been dangerous enough for Rajel to be near me when I cut my wrist and splashed her with my blood. I wasn't about to put her in temptation's range a second time.
Rajel did as she was told, and I raised my left hand to call forth the dagger.
A thin whimper escaped Laverne's throat, threatening my fragile self-control. "You think I'm going to kill you?" I leered, staggering toward her. I raised the dagger and held it, somewhat unsteadily, at the base of her throat. "I could. Better than killing a little girl. You're not so innocent, are you, Laverne?"
With a little imagination, the guard's moan might have been interpreted as "please." It gave me just enough of a start to regain my senses, and I lowered the dagger. "I can't kill you," I sighed. Laverne boggled at this unexpected turn of events, bringing a ragged laugh from my throat. "I couldn't even kill your asshole buddy Bluto. You're just not monstrous enough." And with that, I reached up and grasped one of the snakes that twined around my skull. It fought against my grip, its will just enough separate from mine to resist impending death. I cut its head off just behind the ear holes.
The agony was more intense than anything I'd experienced since my imprisonment. Falling to my knees, I let out a roar that actually shook the door in its frame. The snake's body whipped around like a loose fire hose, stinging my face and spraying me with hot, thick blood. It felt as though someone had buried a hatchet in my skull and was wiggling it around. I toppled over onto one side and curled up in a ball, still holding the severed head in one hand. I had known it was going to hurt, but if I'd known it was going to be this bad--
"Hurry, Kyriel," Rajel urged. "Shoachim'll be here soon."
"I can't!" I screamed. But even as I said it the lashing began to die down, and with it, a fraction of the pain. Forcing my eyes open, I glanced over at the child I'd done this for in the first place. She was terrified--as much for me as for herself. And that was something I could fix. For the second time I pulled myself to my feet, this time without benefit of a wall. Then I paused a moment. My head hurt like hell, but the hunger was gone. I looked to Rajel and smiled behind my mask of black flame. "You can give me the keys now. It's safe."
Rajel grinned back, then ran to hug me, the jingling in her hand as sweet as carillon bells. I squeezed her back and laughed despite the pain. "Okay, okay. That's enough. We've got to hurry, remember?"
It was no use putting Laverne back where she belonged. All we could do was position her more naturally, straight-backed with hands on hips, as though she'd just stepped inside to survey the scene. If we were lucky, Shoachim wouldn't notice her lack of movement until it was too late.
Next, I extruded a mass of Fury-sized shadow into the corner and shaped it to look like a winged figure crouching. After making it as thick and dark as possible, I set the outer edges boiling. Hopefully, it would look as though a body lay beneath that darkness, pouring visible misery into the atmosphere around it.
"Hurry, Kyriel!" Rajel hissed as I put the finishing touches on my artwork. "I can feel him coming!" I nodded. The dead snake hung in my face like a lock of hair, and I brushed it wearily aside. Even though it had finally stopped moving, the ache remained like a rotten tooth. Ignoring it, I flew to a position just above the cell door and tried to glue myself to the wall. Rajel lay back down at Laverne's feet.
The footsteps came several heartbeats later, bustling down the hall with an unexpected eagerness. So this is what it takes, I thought, to break through Shoachim's complacency. I gripped my dagger tight and licked my lips.
Then the footsteps paused, just a few paces from the cell door. "Sellin!" I heard the wizard snap, "come out of there immediately! Sellin!"
He's talking to the guard, I realized. Oh hell, there goes the element of surprise. Then the footsteps started again, less eagerly, more warily.
The first thing to come through the doorway was Shoachim's upraised hand. I grabbed it just as a fireball shot out of his palm. He'd evidently meant it for the shape in the corner, but instead it smashed into the back of Laverne's head, causing her to topple onto the still motionless Rajel. That was probably for the best, I thought. At least the kid would have some cover. Then I swooped in with my dagger, aiming for the wizard's heart.
At that point Shoachim's other hand came up--I should have expected it, I thought--and I caught the second fireball right in the face. It slammed me back and upward, against the wall over the door, but somehow I managed to keep my grip on the wizard's wrist. Lose that, I knew, and he could retreat behind the force field and do whatever he pleased.
Now I was aching and blind. I thrust my whole body forward as though to embrace the enemy, and Shoachim's free arm slapped helplessly against my side. It wasn't long enough to curve around my wings, so for the moment, all he could fire at was the ceiling. It was the best chance I was going to get. I threw myself sideways at the floor with all the force I could muster, and felt the crack of bone beneath me.
Shoachim screamed, the sound of his pain almost as sweet to me as the jingling keys. I was still blind, but now that I had him pinned, I could sense the location of his heart well enough. I plunged the dagger home.
My vision was just starting to return as I climbed to my feet and moved to check on Rajel. She was sore but cheerful, and eager to find her father. Half fearfully, I risked a glance through the open door, then sighed with relief. The force field had died with its creator. We were free.
I did let one of the snakes bite Laverne before we left. Its poison wasn't deadly, just painful enough to make the victim wish she were dead. And for as long as she lived, the guard would be plagued by dreams of a dark, winged figure with a scarlet dagger. It was a very effective means of behavior modification.
After that, there were long, tedious hours of stalking the dungeon in my cloak of shadow, disabling the remaining guards and stealing their keys. But to my everlasting disappointment, Bluto was nowhere to be found. He must have had the day off. I made Rajel wait in our cell and didn't unlock any doors until I was done, just to be certain no one was injured in a scuffle. Then I went back for my little charge and we set out together to free the prisoners and find her father.
Rajel's psychic sensitivity led her directly to him, which was fortunate, considering that we would never have heard him over the general noise of celebration. Rajel dived into the cell before I had the door even halfway open. Then came an explosion of joy and amazement so powerful it brought me to tears yet again. But I hung back in the doorway as the father and daughter embraced, reluctant to impose myself on the intimate reunion.
Ashur was a small man, thin and grayed by grief; but he gained back ten years the moment he laid eyes on his daughter. "Oh Rajel, Rajel," he moaned, almost delirious with relief. He squeezed her until I wondered how the child could breathe. "I thought you were dead. Shoachim said you'd been locked up with a Fury."
"I was," Rajel answered cheerfully, "but she's a nice Fury, see?" She pointed me out in the doorway, and I had to resist an impulse to duck.
Ashur's stare wavered between shock, fear, and naked curiosity. I'd resumed my human form before releasing any of the prisoners, but I had the sense that those dark eyes saw the shape beneath my skin clearly enough. "He -- he said you'd kill her," Ashur finally managed, his eyes pingponging between me and the bloodstains on Rajel's blouse.
"That's my blood," I told him. "If it were possible, I'd have killed myself to save your daughter's life. Still," I shrugged, "I did the best I could." I stretched out my hand, and he saw the gift I'd brought up with me from our cell: the severed snake head.
Ashur took it almost reverently, and I knew he understood the sacrifice I'd made. He closed his eyes and hugged it tight to his chest, then smoothed his daughter's hair with a smile. Finally, he looked up at me again. "Madame--"
"Kyriel," I said.
"Kyriel....I don't even know how to thank you for what you've done--I just hope you can sense my feelings--"
I nodded gently.
"--And I know I have no right to ask anything else of you--" his eyes took on a strange, yearning gleam--"but I do have one request, if you're willing."
"Go ahead," I said, feeling strangely light all of a sudden.
Ashur ducked his head in embarrassment. "I'd like to see what killed Shoachim. I'd like to see what you look like as a Fury." He gave me a furtive, hopeful glance from under his brows.
I could have laughed out loud. No one had ever wanted to see the Fury before, or appreciated it when they did. I obliged him gladly, and when he breathed the word "beautiful," I could have hugged him.
"There's just one thing wrong," he added, and my spirits came slamming down. I should have known.
Gently Ashur disentangled himself from his daughter's arms and stood up. "If you would allow me--" he raised a hand toward my face. For a moment my mind flashed back to Shoachim and his fireballs; then I saw that Ashur was reaching for the dead snake. Somehow, I'd expected the head to grow back, as my hand or foot would have; but after all, the snake had been more than just an appendage. It was truly dead, in a way no other part of my body could have been. Surprised, I found myself bending toward my admirer.
A look of serene concentration settled onto Ashur's face as he took the body in his hands. For a moment all was quiet. Then, gradually, a tingling sensation began at the point where the snake met my scalp. Another moment and the body began to wither--slowly at first, then crumbling abruptly to a fragile husk which Ashur lifted painlessly away from my head. I stared in amazement, then lifted my hand to feel the tiny bald spot where the body had been.
"I couldn't really fix it," he explained, coloring. "I can only heal, not resurrect." Then his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. "But at least now your appearance won't be spoiled by a dead snake hanging in your face. You're perfect again."
"Perfect": the word rang in my mind, harmonizing with its companion "beautiful," as we wound our way up through the dungeons. Not so long I'd thought of myself as a monster. But I knew now that the monster was dead in his lair, and only angels lived to see the light.
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