Reaver’s Song

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions-” the woman mumbled as she flipped through the pages in the book. I dropped into the chair and shot daggers at her with my eyes.

“You bet your goddamn ass I’ve got questions,” I snapped. She glanced up; disinterest painted across her pretty face. “Why won’t this dream end? Where am I? What am I doing here? Who the hell are you? Why did you torture and kill me? How am I still alive after you tortured and killed me? How do I get out of this dream?”

“As I was saying before you interrupted me,” she droned on. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I don’t particularly care. Suffice it to say, you now work for me.”

“Oh, hell no I don’t!” I growled. “As long as I’m alive I won’t work for your fat ass!” She cocked her eyebrow in displeasure.

“That can be easily remedied,” the woman’s voice didn’t change inflection, but the warning was clear.

“I’ve already been dead at least once!” I laughed. “Do you think I give a fuck if you kill me again? You’ve got no leverage, you Amazonian sociopath!” She wasn’t that much taller than I was…or, well, than I had been. Along with witty comebacks, insults weren’t high on my skillset either. She sat still for a moment before folding the book closed politely in front of her.

“I see you are planning on being troublesome,” she sighed. I sneered at her as she raised her hand.

“What are you going to do? Slap me?” I snorted derisively. “Like I care about-Gahk!” I gasped in agony as it felt like shards of steel were tearing through my heart, head, and groin simultaneously.

“I would say I don’t want to do this but, honestly, I don’t care,” the woman stared at me with her silver eyes. “The beauty with your situation from my standpoint is I can torture you as much as I want and kill you as often as I need in whatever way I choose, and you’ll keep coming back for more. You are the Prometheus to my Zeus. Do I need to have Sayuri eat your liver to convince you?” My mouth gaped open silently, my body shaking in unbelievable agony. I gasped and fell off the chair, quivering in pain on the floor. “Are you sufficiently convinced to behave yourself or do we need to continue this to its ultimate conclusion?” My body felt like it was tearing itself apart and I could barely manage a pained whimper.

A moment later the pain ceased, and I felt a sob rise in my throat. Tears slipped from my eyes and down my cheeks to pool on the floor. It felt like my whole being had been dragged under a bus for a kilometer. I curled into a fetal position and, unable to stop myself, sobbed brokenly. I felt the woman’s eyes on me but didn’t care. Everything hurt and this dream wouldn’t stop, and I finally had enough.

“What happened to her?” I heard Sayuri’s voice through the rushing in my ears but didn’t care. It was high time to have a nervous breakdown and I’d be damned if I’d be dissuaded. I felt the catgirl’s hair brush against my cheek. “Is she broken?”

“She’s having an existential crisis at the moment,” my newly sworn enemy replied. “Best to leave her alone for a bit and clean.”

“Okie, sir!” Sayuri replied brightly.

“For fuck’s sake,” my tormentor muttered and sat back on the chair. After several minutes of soul draining sobbing, I finally managed to get ahold of myself and gradually lapsed into silence. “Are you done, yet?” The woman prodded.

“I hate you,” I muttered. My head ached and my eyes were raw from crying but I did feel marginally better.

“I believe that’s been established, yes,” she replied. “Get up on the chair and let’s channel that toward something more…constructive.”

“Sith bitch,” I muttered, climbing to my feet. To my surprise, my arm and leg no longer hurt in the least. I glanced down at the dried blood on my thigh and was more than a bit surprised to find the wound had healed as if it had never been at all. “What the…” I poked where the wound had been curiously. “How did…” I trailed off again and poked my arm.

“Yes, yes,” the woman hissed irritably. “Sit down.” I grumbled under my breath and sat down heavily in the chair.

“I smell like blood and death,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. The gown I’d been wearing looked it’d just come from a zombie movie. “I need new clothes.”

“You’re far too needy,” she grumbled and waved my concerns away with a brush of her hand. “I have a job for you. Consider this a…trial period for a much bigger role to come.”

“I don’t want your job, your trial or any role. I want you to die in a housefire while being eaten by badgers,” I growled, glaring at her.

“I don’t recall asking what you wanted,” the woman’s gaze burned into me. “This isn’t an optional thing. You’ll do what you’re told, and you’ll succeed or die trying. And if you do, indeed, die trying, you’ll simply have to repeat it over and over until you get it right. I think you are misunderstanding, whether intentionally or no, the nature of our relationship. We are not equals.”

“Did your parents not love you?” I grumbled.

“My parents died when I was five,” she responded evenly. They probably did it to get away from her, I thought venomously.

“Oh…uh…hmm,” I fumbled about for something to say. “I’m…uh, sorry to hear that, then.”

“Anyway,” she brushed my awkwardness aside and continued on. “I’m sure you remember your friend, Drudge.” My eyes narrowed in rage at the memory.

“And?”

“I need you to unshackle dear Drudge from this mortal chain,” she replied. I stared at her for a long moment.

“Eh?” I finally said in surprise. “Unshackle…you mean you want me to kill him?”

“Crudely put, but yes,” the woman rolled her eyes slightly.

“I can’t…mmm,” I began, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts cascading through my brain. “I mean, you can’t…grr. I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“Assault with a deadly weapon, 9 counts. Fraud, 13 counts. Heresy, 14 counts,” she read blandly from the book on the table. I scowled, trying to peer around her hand to look as well. “Breaking and entering, 22 counts. Burglary, 31 counts. Impersonating a royal guard, 5 counts. Impersonating a priestess, 9 counts. Battery, 31 counts. Attempted murder, 6 counts. Conspiracy to engage in magical terrorism, 3 counts. Murder, 2 counts.”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to look over her hand.

“Those are the charges leveled against you to date,” she turned the book and showed me the lengthy scroll of words. I grabbed the book and pulled it close, mumbling the words to myself as I read.

“I never did any of these things!” I gasped, horrified.

“According to official records you’ve done all these things,” the woman shrugged. “If I were to hazard a guess you’ve done more the city guard hasn’t found out about. Please focus on the last charges and let’s put our pretend innocence away and pull on our big girl breeches, shall we?”

“You don’t understand! This is a dream! I’m just a history teacher! I’ve never killed anyone!” I insisted. The woman cocked her eyebrow curiously. Her range of emotions seemed to extend from dispassionate sadism to arrogant dismissal all the way to mildly curious. DING! DING! DING! We have a cold ass ice queen award winner here, folks! I thought.

“I’m not going to sugar coat things, half-elf history teacher,” she stared into my eyes, holding me in place with her gaze. “I want that toad dead and you’re my instrument to make that happen. Whatever bizarre fantasies you’ve cooked up in that empty, animalistic brain of yours are of no concern to me. You can pretend to be the queen herself if that’s your kink once Drudge is no longer a potential issue. Am I making myself clear?”

And just how am I supposed to do that? I thought to myself, trying to meet her gaze evenly. I tried to kill a spider in the bathroom once and passed out cold when it scurried toward me. How was I supposed to kill an entire human being? Suddenly the memory of what happened in the dungeon came back to me and I scowled. Was he really a human being, though? No one could do that to someone else and be considered human. I glared at the woman across from me, eyes narrowed.

“Fine. I’ll do it, but- “I began.

“There are no additional caveats,” the woman brushed my words away with a wave of her hand. “Do the job and then we can get started on the real task.” She deposited a few papers on the table and got up to leave. “That’s all of the information on Drudge and your various criminal activity. If you can read it, you’ll have a leg up. If you can’t…well, it should be a good fight at least.”

“I can read,” I muttered angrily under my breath. “Treating me like I’m some damn animal. I’ll treat you like you’re an animal and then you’ll be like some kind of gross animal beast thing or something.”

“Oh,” She paused near the door and turned back. “Your…” her face twisted in disgust for a brief moment, “belongings are in the bag by the window. You’ll need those.” That saying she strode out the door, closing it behind her.

“Is she always like that?” I asked the catgirl as she mopped the blood up from the floor.

“Hmm?” Sayuri looked up at me curiously.

“Is she always a bitch?”

“Oh!” Sayuri nodded vigorously. “Hai.”

“I’ll take her down a peg or ten when I get the chance,” I muttered to myself, taking the papers with me. I made my way toward the large bag by the window, marginally surprised I hadn’t noticed it earlier. I paused once and shook my fist angrily at the door. “You’ll rue the day!” I shouted.

I opened the bag and rifled through the things inside. I pulled out a small hand-held crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a pair of daggers attached to bracers with a retractable chain cable, a set of what appeared to be armor or clothes of some kind, some strange stone knickknacks that looked rather vulgar and finally a ratty, tattered doll that had seen so many better days. I sat cross legged on the floor and put the doll in my lap. It had been hand sewn with as much care and skill as the person doing it could manage and was obviously well-loved. I stared into its eyes for a long moment, feeling the stress fear, and anxiety drain away. “Sayuri?”

“Hmm?” The catgirl replied from where she was cleaning the blood I’d flung onto the wall.

“Who am I?”

“Oh! I know that one!” Sayuri exclaimed brightly, raising her hand as if she were in class. “You’re a dirty half breed animal who would have been better off strangled with its own intestines and left in the garbage!” I stared blankly at the doll for a long moment before shuddering.

“Wow,” I finally managed. “That was…uh…brutally…honest? Thanks?” Sayuri beamed at me proudly. I glanced down at the papers I’d dropped to the ground. Ashvallen Silverbough, the name at the top read. I climbed to my feet easily and padded over to the mirror on the far wall. Who are you, Ashvallen Silverbough?

I stared at the reflection that wasn’t mine with no small amount of shock. Long, unruly silver hair framed my small, delicate face. Deep, haunted amethyst eyes which glowed ever-so-slightly stared back at me under thin dark eyebrows. The dainty mouth with plump lips twitched ever so slightly beneath a tiny pixie nose. My body was lean and lithe with little fat to speak of and currently covered in dried blood. You’re scared, I thought to myself. I raised my thin arms and ran my fingers through my long, thick hair. What did this world do to you?

“Sayuri?” I asked without turning away from the mirror. The catgirl behind me glanced my way, her heterochromatic eyes blinking languidly in the growing darkness. “Can I take a bath?”

“Okie!” Sayuri replied brightly.

“Thanks,” I said before scowling. “You, uh…you might want to brush your teeth after I’m done.”

“Okie!”