A Canticle for Birth: Part VII

Part VII: Three for three

I set the jar down and sit down opposite it.

"I will not treat with you Oez, child of glass." The prismatic voice returns as the old man vanishes.

"You have little choice faeling."

"What would you know of choice?" The light sings.

"Ask your king." 

A laugh like soft waves upon the beach. As it begins to push itself up in the jar.

"You are my quarry. Our mutual horror thinks you worth a line of wise masters and apparently so do I. Make not a fool of me Pan's child or I shall make it your last folly." 

I reignite the oil lamp.

"The fiend is but naked desire sewn to flesh, it knows nothing of wise masters or sacraments. It saw but power in its domain and conspired with forces its superior. It knows nothing of my worth. I am useless to you. You have traded carelessly." It rises only to sit and cross its legs. A shimmering of shapes it is. A kaleidoscope of odors. Reality is confused around it. No minor wound did our catling inflict.

It bleeds like thoughts.

"Lies." I say plainly.

"You speak your desires. Ambrosia itself would not satiate the hole in you. You are the thing at the edge: the thing which devours. I am bound by the eight and thirty what could I offer you here in the place below? It is as alien to me as it is to you."

"You are clever I give you that. I could force you by the eight if need be but the hour is not yet so dire. Even here you are bound by the eight, they are of you as much as they are me, more so perhaps. Yet still you bleed, and around you warps." 

I feel it inside more than I see it, an assault on the external senses and the internal components of my mind.

"My point exactly." I reply.

"You could return." The desperate old man's voice surfaces again.

"I have paid with kin and kind, country and compatriot, blood and sanity. Earth and sky flee. And now power takes its leave, fiends rise and laws fade. Do you insult me fae?" 

A flurry, painful to experience, impossible to comprehend. "I beg of you Glassling the bridge has not yet drawn. Pollux awaits!" 

A phalanx wreathed in the glory of war. Powerful Pollux bathed in blood and gleaming bronze.

"A bridge stays! Tempt me again and I will rip the other wing!" I spit.

Mother before she left. Smell of fresh pita bread. Cold perspiring coca cola on a warm day as waves lap at the beach.

My hand rises and descends into the jar. "Last wing it is!"

My arm stretches and stretches and stretches and- the fae always out of reach.

"Tear away! You think you've tasted beyond the edge of sanity? Taste of the madness of a desperate fae!" 

More than mere illusion.

Anger flares. 

"By the rites we killed your king by the laws we became him! We who are beyond the iron and steel you would test?" I continue to reach the arm neverending. "Test and test again the children of glass! We shall both perish beyond the eight and thirty!"

I continue to reach, counting each second. Three minutes I wait.

Finally I speak: "By the law of sight I know thee!"

My arm shortens quickly back to normal length the faerie is within reach.

Surrender. 

My fingers clasp on the wing, velvet soft.

"Mercy, by the blood of the witch. For the fealty and the love I bore thy mother I beg of thee mercy!" An array of voices pleads.

I release my grip. 

"Your wing was never in danger from me faeling."

I smell the snort of his laughter. Lemon drops.

"A test?" He inquires.

"By the blood of the witch."

"You have her cunning." 

I nod graciously.

"You didn't come here by happenstance." I say.

"No." He replies.

"For what did you come? And I'll have no more lies, I do not wish to harm you, but I am hungry, tired, far from home, and short on patience."

There is silence for a moment as he thinks. 

"You tell me." He counters.

I raise an eyebrow. 

"It is you who has brought me here. The below is dangerous to my kind we dare not go and yet you have brought me."

"You are addled." 

"The things beneath I see. Laws I touch without thought. Everything you have learned is to me as breathing to you. You have brought me here and now it lurks." 

F-f-f-f zick snick! Zick snick!

"Oez knows!"

A chill. We are not alone here. Motivations intangible, It feels like dust. An object am I.

"I must flee glassling! Three for three by the laws I can do no more, and then I shall go. Acceptable?" Like static it fizzles reality is uncomfortable. Panic is the faeling and in me it resonates like wood to harmony.

"By the rites I accept."

"I cannot go, but the lights will guide. Do not let them out of your sight."

I touch three fingers to my forehead.

"When to the chalice you come leave it behind. Look and be one." 

It? What is 'it'? Nevermind not enough time fingers to forehead.

"Fates and laws but by the blood many things are possible. The cost is high a bridge stays but a snake circles. Remember this and all may not perish." 

What the fuck does that mean! No time.

Heart thumping. It comes. The faeling is ripping me apart by sheer accident. He must go.

Fingers to sternum. 

"A trade is honored." He shrills.

"A trade is honored." I agree.

Darkness, faeling gone, but beyond the cellar a faint glow.