Princeps

The calm summer night took a different guise on the other side of the estate bringing to Atef a confusing stream of overlapping images, playing tricks on the boy who already made an immutable decision that he must find an exit and that there is no time to wait. In a crazed dance of his psyche, he still desperately struggled to understand this outside world.

Every act of kindness he was bestowed with since the moment he woke in this accursed place was calculated, every caring word and expression of understanding nothing but lie. Is he really utterly unique, can’t they find out on their own? Let them even bring him back to the mine, he will show them on his own, only if they don’t take away the sole thing he has in life, his existence! Although it was terrifying in the depths, although he didn’t know of anything else in the world apart a small piece of land around the pit and it itself, still his innate child’s optimism yearned for life. He considered how the return to the depths would satisfy his jailors, whether he would find the path again; the curls he wiggled around and cracks he crawled through. Would they be satisfied when he finally reaches the place where, in their opinion, he became what is not possible. But he can’t trust them anymore, they would only smile and execute him as soon as they get hold of the knowledge from that damn pit. The whisper went silent.

- Mother, Dina, Rola, gods help! Take me on the road, hold me I’m broken, give strength, I don’ wanna join you lot yet, not yet! - Repeating his prayer quietly; sobbing finally exhausted him to sleep.

He floated through the ether of the underground, it clung to his every pore, pervading from everywhere. He screamed in fear and the slimy, fatty liquid besieged him gushing down his throat. He didn’t drown, rather became one with the environs, though his only want was to expel from himself the poisonously bitter resin. The blackness gradually grew into dim fluorescent colours, which smouldered threateningly. The ether whispered to him, imbuing him, revealing its secrets, reminding him. The dim colours intensified, an inexplicable light coalesced into a streaming flash in the distance hurtling towards him, the threatening ray with the backdrop of screaming infinity. The whisper faded overcame by the uproar in his ears, he curled up in pain shutting his eyes. An intense explosion of light transpired tearing the protection of his eyelids. Atef, stupefied, found himself in a brilliant chamber, formed by nature in past immemorial and tucked away from the growing gaze of the world. An experienced diver from the island of Lit’veh would compare the minerals of glittering colours and the tricksy dancing of light to the beauty of its coral reefs, but Atef was obsessed with a different resemblance. Suddenly everything became familiar; purple see-through crystals, blindingly light and yet cold-blue colour hidden and brooding in deep cracks, unfathomable grey metallic rhomboids, a dense yellow shroud akin to a living grassy valley and an endless run of other colours and their erratic mixes painted fantastic shapes with spikes, lumps, magmatic creases, and other figures that nature spawned in this world. The reborn whisper turned into a giggle, enlivening him, proving that another in the string of nightmares is not in store tonight.

He remembered his wading into deep, deeper than ever before in his life, in search of a new vein in the porous pit walls. He should have given up a while ago, but some inexplicable ember deep within his stomach impelled him to peek just a bit deeper, to explore just the next chamber in hope that the lamp will shine upon a metallic glow. Sudden drop, faintingly strong whiplash, painful strain of the rope which wailed threatening to snap, his lamp lost inviting in the terror of endless darkness. He haplessly screamed and jerked around trying to send out a signal of his dire straits, a plea for someone to pull him back. Recognizing that he is left to himself, he forced his sinewy muscles up the rope hoping not to give in before reaching an overhang or ridge which could provide respite. The painful progress was taken away by a deep growl of the abyss paired with a ferocious flash of light. Arms gave in… no return.

*

Morning pulled a new Atef from the deep descents of the mind. The force residing within him, whispering kindly like a caretaker would, gave him the resolve he sought. A sudden sensation of elan permeated through his body as the morning grogginess seeped away. Surprised, Atef removed the richly knitted cover to examine what changed. Deep purple bruises and swollen knees which hid broken bones were changing their colour gradually, though too quickly for an injury of such nature. He sensed an unusual flow underneath his skin which carried the impulse of recovery. His enriched and strengthened blood flooded his heavy legs, merging fractures, feeding flesh and connecting his wretched and disfigured ligaments back to norm. His chest and head were already healed, pain with every movement was a thing of the past. The click of the lock alarmed him. In an instant he covered himself almost up to the eyes.

- Good morning tough guy! Did you sleep well? Pain is going away slowly, ha? Here, I brought you some grilled bread and boiled eggs, there’s even fresh milk. Kleta had a good tug this morning, were you a bit older I’d tell her to milk you as well so that you recover a tad faster.

- Whadda you mean, “milk me”?

- Matters not, it’s a joke. If we meet in a few years, after you head to the wider world, I will reveal it to you. Tell though, where is the coin I gave you, do you guard it well and dream about towers made out of them?

- Here it is, next to me, on the table – the boy signed with his eyes.

- It doesn’t seem it will run away from you yet. Though it looks as if it wriggled a bit since last night. Guard it well! Did you maybe even name it?

- To a coin? Since when coins have names? I didn’t know that.

- But it is a unique coin, your first one. It has to have a name. See this ring on my hand. My first great love gave it to me, she even carved her name on it. Her name was Mathilda.

- Hmmm… If that be the case, mine is Naya.

- Naya?

- After me ma’ master. Remember?

- Yes, yes, true… a peculiar name, she completely slipped my mind. Forgive me Atef, old bones and hazy thoughts. So, are you ready for your balms? I have to give you another good rub to quicken the recovery. You won’t whine as much as yesterday?

- Please nah master, everything only burns and pains more all day after it. It only gonna make it worse than better. Lemme get over it, ‘tis not the first time you know.

- Come, come, there isn’t room for noes, healer’s orders, and I am not to dispute a knowledgeable man. You have to get better for all of us.

- I’ll get better I know it, I don’t need your chara, charala,

- Charlatan?

- Charlatan balm! – exclaimed Atef with resignation, ordering with his tone for the discussion to end.

Again the familiar, uneasy, deeply focused Togrin’s gaze swooped over him. It had an air of intense examination of an adversary considered equal. Up to now, Atef didn’t suspect that his master, saviour, benefactor simmered with doubt and fear.

- Well then, let it be so. But tomorrow I have to apply it nonetheless if I manage to find time to visit you after dinner. Tonight, there will be no books and stories, I am expecting your tutor’s return. He left on some business, and made me swear to make sure you are out of that bed and invested in your learnings as soon as possible. He even mentioned finding you a friend to study with! We will even make a cart for your walks … um, rides while you are getting back to your feet. There, a proper coddling while you recover! Doesn’t your tutor do the very best things for you?

Atef, lacking a proper deflection, just dully smiled with the most sincere guise of approval he could pull off raying from his eyes. Togrin accepted the gesture as a welcoming sign and clearly exhilarated placed the boy’s food on a small bed tray.

- Here, gobble it up now since you don’t want the balm! I will come later to visit you.

Left alone, Atef voraciously dug into his serving thinking that this is going to be one of his last meals before he flees. Soaking the greasy grilled bread with milk and getting ready to stick a whole boiled egg into his already full mouth he choked at the sudden appearance of the whisper. The recent nocturnal force was back now that he was left alone. Gasping for air, with food stuck in his throat, he listened to its bursts which didn’t have the mark of language, they resounded to the flow of nature. Last night’s lesson continued. Finally overcoming his fight for air, the boy jumped out of the bed with the ease he though he would never recover. He darted towards the walled off balcony and its sparse holes seeping the light in and started listening.

*

Togrin found it cumbersome to bother tonight with the third tome of Joster’s “History of the Imperial Wars” so he cleared the remainder of Atef’s dinner, tucked in the killer and retired to his chamber to write the daily report to Everard sooner than he originally planned. The savouring of last night’s brandy and the perilous state of the household fed his appetite for intoxication over which he had a firm grip since last winter. The three boys he picked up from local villages to treat Atef were still frequenting his dreams, their bashed bodies fused into a tri-headed gargantuan monstrosity of wounded, reeking, burnt flesh hounding him through the night towards the boy, his judge. They would bellow in unison, cursing him for their deaths, pitying the fates of their families and condemning him for vicious lies he spun to hide what happened to them. Three companions on the road of no return, a blackened skull, a ravaged stump that would wheeze rather than sound and Glif, their only tracker and herald, their guide. The dream would end up the same for the third night in a row; the escape would lead him pass their open graves, unmarked pits dug deep in the forest where they hid the bodies. He never saw such horror applied to a human body, not even the stories of veterans could cause the revulsion which danced in front of his eyes constantly, which he feared admitting to anyone. The monstrosity is at his heels. He must not face it, must not. Forward, into the night, forward towards his judge, he is going to wake up anyways the moment he falls to his knees pleading for forgiveness.

The drunken haze was lifting, napping in the chair was over, time for bed. Forth to a renewed chase, popping into his subconscious just at the break of dawn; that is if he even manages to fall asleep by then. Such pain in his back. But he is still there?! Equally brimming with rage just as every time, ready to proclaim his judgement and power. To demonstrate to those who must fear and respect what the heavens gifted to every emperor, king and lord of any era. Hate, devoid of any recent fears, radiated form Atef’s eyes which yearned to satisfy their need for knowledge before deciding on the fate of the captive.

- To your knees master! Princeps, as you call him has arrived. Ready to shrive his tormentors. But first, why Princeps? I’ve never even heard that word, why do you call me like that? I am a rat, small pest that digs, ploughs and gashes the depths to supply you surface beasts with steel for slaughter, copper for your fanciful ornaments, gold and gems with which you show off your power to the world. Born in the pit and meant to die in the pit. False hope you sow, as if I wasn’t sick of the existing hell! A toy in your hands. Say so, cheer me up master! I haven’t been in good spirits for a while now!

- Atef, my child what are you doing? What treacheries are you talking about? Nothing but the very best I always wished for you! Took you under my wing, fed you, lavished you with toys and stories! Personally saved and wrested away from death! I know not of the Princeps you are talking about. It is the first time for me as well to hear that word. How did you get so well so quickly? Only a few days ago we found you almost dead?!

Togrin still didn’t believe his eyes. He was witnessing a crude maleficence, a phantasm. A mind blowing Atef’s recovery, his impossible confidence, the suaveness of other’s thoughts in his speech.

- You hear him mother, do you hear the sack of scum; reeks as soon as he opens his mouth?!

- Naya… isn’t your mother dead Atef? What happened to you my dear? What kind of dark thoughts and night demons stalked you so you imagine things in plain reality?!

- Do you hear him? Imagining things! Here she is, deep in me and she whispers! She whispers of justice, handed from the heavens for me to break off, to forge a new path and punish my benefactors for all the goodness that broke my back and arms and legs and left me like cattle that fell off a cliff; shattered and bleating until an unknown beast jumps at my neck. You are the beast Togrin! You and your kin, my wise tutor, who would make me ready for the world!

- No! You are mad! The shock horrified you! You are not anymo…

The sound of throat crushing prevented the bringing about of a new excuse. Atef suddenly felt how he gave the command to the invisible force to execute the judgment simply by extending his arm. He was furious with himself, started hitting the shoulder of the betraying arm over and over until the futility of his act became obvious. He wanted to hear from Togrin’s mouth the collusion that the gift revealed to him. To prove or deny whether the gift is lying to him as well. He figured his mother managed to please the heavenly smiths and was granted the permission to whisper, to set her son on the path. She would never lie to him. But after all, is it her or someone else, with intentions like the corpse that lay before him and its master which can be back any moment. A piece of parchment snapped him back from this newly brewing whirlwind of random thoughts.

Pri…Princ… Princeps is… under control. Re…re…reco… very is sl..ow. I still suspect… Today he for…ba..de me to apply medi…cine. He still has that ga…ze. Hurr… hurry back. The quick…er we do it, the better.

Dousing his bloodlust while at the same time still feeling short of quenching his thirst for knowledge, he unexpectedly sank into a nihilistic apathy. He didn’t know his own purpose and the next step wasn’t clear. Whisper, soft and kind gave him his path again. It ordered to him to complete his revenge. Atef obeyed, like every time so far in his life. He touched the parchment on the writing table with the tip of his index finger and headed outside of the room. The graceless small flame nervously gorged on the parchment and then voraciously spread over the table drenched in multiple layers of lacquer older than the several generations of artisans who made them, growing into a monstrous blaze.

Atef did the same to “his” room, dungeon or perhaps purgatory that faced him with the truth. He grabbed with great nonchalance what he could and needed from the kitchen and then bestowed it with fire as well. He wanted to cleanse this space, so that someone, sometime in the future could make something better than a den of cunning warmongers in search of new world order.

Finally outside, back turned to the growing conflagration, he stretched his limbs and sincerely smiled for the very first time. Step by step; before him the world awaited, unaware of his first strides, ill prepared for what awaits it.

With his mother’s whisper and zephyr blowing in his face, he headed towards the forest he daydreamed about from his aristocratic prison. Princeps, no … a fury craving life.