***
He awoke on a giant plate of cold metal. Groggy as though he was, he felt the netting that had ensnared him, encasing him still. He couldn't flex his muscles any easier than he could move at first, the durable carbon polymer mesh of the bonds had proved themselves a formidable obstacle for the astonished Barbarian.
The ties holding him fast were not the primary source of Ufburk's growing amazement. He lay on the floor of a diamond shaped room, forged of bright silver metal. Embedded in these sloping platinum walls Ufburk's bewildered gaze saw skulls, bleached white and stripped of all flesh. His primitive brain knew at once where he was, even if he had no conception of what, or who but the gods could forge a chamber from metal. It was a trophy room. Ufburk studied the various alcoves, all containing one skull each. Upon further examination, Ufburk saw plainly that no two trophies were the same. Those were the heads of different creatures, and he was in the hunter's trophy room.
As he struggled against his bonds, the Barbarian felt a familiar lump pressed against the side of his left leg, and another pushed against his ribs on his right. That second lump could only be the blaster. Through wriggling, Ufburk managed to angle the Raygun towards the netting and away from himself. After more struggle, the Barbarian was able to depress the trigger. Nothing happened. The weapon was dark. Its fury had gone cold. Even the light strobed no more.
Dismayed, Ufburk attempted to move the ax and found the gods were with him. The bladed edge of Tiber's ax, forged of Verudian Steel cut away the web with considerable ease. Once a hole was established it took the Barbarian scant seconds to gain independence from the net.
The Barbarian was again on his feet. The smooth metal walls about him would have proved folly to any but the best of climbers. The alien trophy room had one entrance that was heavily sealed and an open vent in the ceiling forty feet above him. Ufburk tried the door, and the effort was a wasted one. Nothing could budge that mammoth entrance. No typical climber, and stronger still than many he found his way up and through the vent, where he had to crawl serpentine style inside tight spaces.
Leaving the trophy room behind afforded Ufburk's terrified mind a small dose of temporary relief. He heard the same humming now that he'd heard before god's furies wrecked his village. Except he was inside the sound. His skin went damp and cold. Ufburk shuddered at the thought, inside and out.
Moving with grace for such a large man in so tight of space the Barbarian headed towards the opening ahead. Mindful of all noise, his as well as his surroundings, Ufburk peered into the vent hole.
He nearly gasped aloud at the demonic form he saw, back to him, looking through a wall of gleaming glass into a blanket of stars and meteorites. To Ufburk meteorites resembled boulders floating in endless blackness.
Baffled, he remained frozen and thus concealed behind the vaguely humanoid form standing on the ship's observation deck. It did not move, so Ufburk studied the thing carefully. Watching the situation did nothing to ease his surmounting fears. Its back exposed heavy armor like that of an armadillo or tortoise from the dessert lands on Tark.
It wore a chain on an iron-cast collar about its neck and was otherwise sexless and nude. Spiny skin covered its front and legs. The thing had a strange head that looked more like a reptilian fly than men. Reflected in the glass its eyes were like slick marbles covered in pasty goo. Those visual delights sizzled an odd shade of magenta. An inferno of hate hung about the thing. Again Ufburk cringed.
Fate had its way with the Barbarian as he waited in his dusty hidey-hole. His nose began to itch and his eyes watered in streams. He struggled against nature, to maintain his anonymity, but fate is a fickle one. Ufburk sneezed loudly.
Without further warning and already discovered, the Barbarian sprang like a panther from the shadows, landing not three feet from his reeling captor.
The creature’s thick skin glowed eerily in the gloomy twilight. Azure tinged its spiky and spotted flesh, and dark grays dominated the creature’s thick shell, which virtually covered the thing’s back. Such features were demonic enough, but when Ufburk’s captor had spun to meet his gaze, the Barbarian shrunk backward, shivering at what he saw. Those inky eyes, sticky-wet and poisonous leered at him from behind a hawk-beaked mouth, set into a pointedly broad jaw with straw shaped incisors capable of perforating his flesh and humungous molars with which to grind him to a pulp.
The Barbarian aimed the Raygun, squeezing the trigger just before the weapon was knocked away by a clawed hand. It had not mattered, the gun did not fire. Out with his ax, Ufburk slashed at the creature. His swipe met with a firm backhand that left Ufburk stumbling to stay upright. From the corner of his wild eyes, widened by shock, Ufburk saw the blaster, its button-light dead, sliding across the floor.
Again and again Ufburk swung at the thing, which moved as swiftly as he could. The beast’s malevolent stare shook the young fighter as much as the creature’s appearance had. Steeling his resolve, the Barbarian bellowed his war cry. His anger burned red. Actions replaced thought as he dodged and parried the thing’s claws. At first glance, Ufburk had thought that this was all they were, claws, the same as a mud crab. When this proved to not be the case, and he saw those hands working almost like his, save for a thumb claw was connect to twin split talons that were as wide as two fingers.
Ufburk let his weapon fly, swinging the ax with all his considerable might. The creature did not dodge the blow, but rather spun, retracting its head like a tortoise. The Verudian Ax clanged heavily into the bony shell and rang as it was ripped from the Barbarian’s grip. The ax spun across the slick metal floor. Ufburk watched it go.
Seizing the opportunity, the creature dashed at the distracted warrior and caught him in around the chest. The creature squeezed mightily. Ufburk felt his left hand going numb, a rib snapped. Pain traced a white lightning rush up his side.
Wriggling, the Barbarian managed to free his right arm. With his right hand, he pried his thumb under the thing’s left thumb-claw. His muscles corded and strained with his one mighty effort. Transparent mush oozed from the creature’s wound. One backhand from the monster sent the young warrior sailing. The wind left him as he collapsed full-force into the unforgiving floor.
Finally, while his back pressed against that glass wall where stars floated by, Ufburk managed to break his dagger off near the alien’s underarm, liquid, sticky and blue seeped from the open wound. The hilt of the weapon clattered to the floor, forgotten. Ufburk’s fist crashed into the thing’s hawk nose, causing a satisfying crunch under his knuckles.
The thing shrieked, tearing a sizable row into Ufburk’s chest with one clawed hand. Instantly the Barbarian struck out at the hand that wounded him.
Diving for the ax, he gained it, and his feet with catlike grace. The Verudian Ax sang a song in the air. Seconds later the creature’s wounded hand lie twitching on the floor. The fiend raised its bleeding stump to its eyes. Ufburk’s ax fell once more, cleaving through the alien’s collarbone and chest plating. Recoiling the Demoki Demon fell half backward to its knees. Malice raged in the creature’s strange eyes.
Impaired, the creature crawled at Ufburk as he retrieved his blaster from the observatory floor. The weapon did not fire, but rather lit again with an amber light, the eerie pattern traced the gun’s outline once more. Three flashes of emerald light lit the button, as Ufburk swung the ax left-handed, striking the beast’s collarbone and opening its breastbone wide.
The blinking crimson light on the Raygun appeared, pulsing and as strong as before. There, between split bone and cartilage, bathing in a lake of bluish-black blood, Ufburk saw the heart of his enemy. Incredibly from within that heart strobed a crimson beacon. The Barbarian placed the muzzle of the gun against his fallen enemy’s slow-throbbing heart. Before he could fire a spike shot from the under weapon’s muzzle, impaling the creature’s heart and stopping it cold.
Ufburk watched again in fascination as the red lights blinked out and the gun went dead and stared helplessly out the gla
ss at the starry sky he floated in through some wicked sorcery or another. He stood there for some time, a Barbarian staring dumbly at the stars. They were a wonderment, and Ufburk supposed this was probably all anybody really knew about the stars. Picking up the Raygun, he set off to explore the craft. No others were aboard. When he came to a paneled cockpit, full of dazzlingly lighted displays, all those dancing lights went out. Again he peered into starry space.
What will I do?
That singular thought must have woken the powers, because now, upon the dash panel a lava red beacon sprung to life and on the Raygun, cold until then, the same. They beat in tandem. Ufburk heard a new hum strike up, and the vessel began to move. Bewildered, the Barbarian sunk into the seat nearest him while shaking his head in disgust, and knowing dark days lie ahead for him. So on that day, Ufburk left his homeworld of Tark behind.
What followed after is another story.
The End
© 2015 Donny Swords
The Serpent Bearer and the Prince of Stars
By C. S. Johnson
The heavens were alight with festive fire and a cheering crowd. Many had arrived to the Kingdom Hall’s celebration singing, overflowing with happiness and joy, and others were still pouring in as he watched. Friends easily came together, radiating smiles and bouncing back laughter as they talked, joked, and prattled on with each other. He could hear several discussing the beauty and majesty all around, and he had to admit they were right to do so; no measure had been spared in making the party grand, unusual as it was for such festivity to be had. Or at least, unusual for him. It wasn’t like he was invited to parties very often. No one cared about him.
No one cared about him, and they had not cared for some time, Ophiuchus thought with a grimace as he backed into a nearby corner. It was going to be a long and lonely night, where he would face constant reminders of his disconnected existence from the other stars, angels, and constellations who had come to the great hall.
“You’re not alone.” The voice from behind his ear almost surprised him; in concentrating on his impending night of being ostracized, he’d momentarily forgotten the reason for it. Ophiuchus turned to see the slanted, gleaming eyes of his ward–the snake he’d been charged with keeping. “I’m here.”
“If coming means arriving with you, I would have rather stayed behind,” Ophiuchus grumbled. “Why did you have to come tonight, Naga?”
“You know as well as I do that I go where you go,” the snake hissed. As if to remind Ophiuchus of the most painful aspect of that fact, Naga constricted his long, scaly body more tightly around Ophiuchus’ neck, hands, and feet.
Ophiuchus, after all the time Naga had been assigned to him, was used to the pain. “I would have thought the Kingdom Hall would have been enough to send you away.”
Naga’s face contorted in something of a smile. “Even I know you don’t believe that, or you would not have come; the other invitations from your former friends and associates of the Zodiac have gone ignored. We are only here, both of us, because it was the Prince who invited us.”
That was true, Ophiuchus admitted to himself. He sighed and felt Naga’s body tighten around him once more, as though he sensed he’d won the argument.
“I would have thought the Prince would have refrained from inviting you,” the snake whispered with a smug look. “Maybe he invited you by mistake.”
Ophiuchus again said nothing. He had spent centuries upon centuries arguing with Naga, and he was getting more and more tired of it, and at the serpent’s assertion, Ophiuchus felt the weight of all the years eat away at him.
Before Naga could take another swipe at him, Ophiuchus heard someone call out to him.
“Ophiuchus! Ophiuchus, over here.” The clatter of a ram’s hooves grew louder as Aries, one of his Zodiac brothers, approached him. There was a telling smile on his face which made Ophiuchus groan.
“Come on, Aries, I don’t want to have a match,” Ophiuchus muttered. “And neither does Naga. It is one of the few things on which we agree.”
“Speak for yourself,” Naga countered. “I’d love the opportunity to snap at Aries’ silly snout.”
Aries bucked. “Keep your fangs to yourself, viper.”
“I’m not a viper,” the serpent cooed. “I didn’t know rams were so bad at seeing things. Too many hits to the head, perhaps?”
“Aries has always been curious,” Ophiuchus insisted, reaching up and squeezing the jaws of his charge shut. He wasn’t able to completely avoid the resulting bite, but he’d grown immune to Naga’s venom.
Aries stood on his hind legs, drawing himself to his full height. “That’s right,” he asserted. “And you’d do well to remember that, snake.” He turned his full attention back to Ophiuchus, who only looked resigned. “That does remind me, though, Ophiuchus, why are you here? Surely this is not something you would do without some kind of compulsion.”
“The Prince invited me,” Ophiuchus explained. “So I came.”
“Are you sure?” Aries asked. “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“It’s not often Kingdom Hall calls together all the stars and angels for a celebration,” Ophiuchus said. “Considering the amount of people here, I’d say he was very intentional about having the party.”
“I wasn’t talking about that,” Aries corrected him. “I was talking about whether the Prince meant to invite you or not.”
“You’ll have to excuse Ophiuchus,” Naga spoke up. “He just thinks you’re overbearing and stupid, so he had to make sure he clarified the obvious.”
“What? Naga, that’s–” Ophiuchus sighed as Aries huffed and turned away. “You shouldn’t have said that, Naga. Aries is a nice guy.”
“Nice guys are more than capable of being stupid,” Naga snapped. “Just look at you. You’re supposed to be so nice, and when the Prince of Stars hands me to you, you just took me.” His eyes narrowed with malicious hatred. “Stupid.”
Ophiuchus suddenly wondered if Naga had a point. He remembered when the Prince had come to him, all those long years ago, asking for Ophiuchus to help him. Ophiuchus, one of the lesser Zodiac siblings, had been eager–perhaps too eager–for the opportunity to assist his ruler. The Prince had been sad that day; there was an expression on his brightly glowing face, and a new depth to the fiery crystals of his eyes. That alone had made Ophiuchus, who loved the Prince, want to do anything to please him and to make him happy once more.
“I might have been stupid in taking you,” Ophiuchus agreed, “but I would have been even more stupid to say no to the Prince of Stars.”
“You’ve talked to the Prince of Stars, Ophiuchus?” A high-pitched laugh followed the inquiry, as Taurus passed by. “I’m surprised you would tell such a story. It’s not like you to assert your claim to fame; at least, it hasn’t been, since you’ve gotten that serpent.” Taurus flicked her long tail playfully over her shoulder as she looked at him with pity. “Which I see you still have.”
Naga hissed in appreciation, and Ophiuchus was sure the snake caught the derision in her tone same as he had. Ophiuchus gave his best smile back. “Naga is under my care until the Prince wants him back.”
“I’m sure,” Taurus muttered dismissively. “It doesn’t seem like the Prince is the kind of person to give one a duty as demanding and cruel as this one. After all, he’s only asked me to help with the Zodiac duties once every year on Earth. You really ought to think about getting rid of Naga on your own. That is,” she added, “if you are not so attached to him.”
“Ophiuchus and I are pretty close,” Naga said with a smirk. “Right, Ophiuchus?” He once more squeezed his body around Ophiuchus’ neck.
Ophiuchus quickly responded in kind, grabbing Naga just under his devilish grin. Naga released his grip, but Ophiuchus held on, until Taurus, too eager to see her other friends, disappeared as quickly as she’d come.
“I can help you if you need something pinched,” a small voice spoke up from the floor.
> “Hi, Cancer. I didn’t see you down there,” Ophiuchus greeted. “I’ve got a good hold on Naga; please do not worry for me.”
The crablike figure, a great deal smaller than his Zodiac brothers, carefully reached out one of his claws. “I haven’t seen you at recent functions, Ophiuchus, and you used to be so cheerful and loud. Your voice was strong, and you looked forward to challenges. I do worry for you and wish you could get better.”
Ophiuchus thought of how nice it would be to get rid of Naga’s hold on him. “It’s complicated,” Ophiuchus murmured. He remembered how sympathetic Cancer had been to him when he’d agreed to keep charge of Naga. Ever since then, he remembered, it was hard to get Cancer to talk of anything but his ‘getting better.’
“I just want to see you happy,” Cancer remarked, as if he’d read Ophiuchus’ mind. “You always seem so lonely and sad now. It’s almost like you’ve given up on being happy or having something worth having.”
Ophiuchus smiled. “I have the same as you–a duty to our Prince. Your concern is misplaced, friend.”
Cancer shook his head. “I’m not so sure,” he said. “I think you’re lying to yourself. You need to get over this complex of yours, Ophiuchus. You’re only hurting yourself and the people you care about by clinging to it.” He scuttled away before Ophiuchus could argue the matter.
“He seems nice.” Naga laughed. “He was the one who used to come and visit us, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Ophiuchus nodded.
“He was the one who would listen to you talk about me and try to help by telling you he felt sorry for you.” Naga laughed harder. “What a joke. He’s not a real friend to you.”
“You’re not either,” Ophiuchus reminded him.
“Of course not,” Naga agreed. “But you need me now, whether you like it or not. If I’m not around, there’s no hope any of the other Zodiac or stars or angels would even pay attention to you. Although,” he said, nodding to the crowd, “it’s hard to say if they even do that anymore.”
“Some have,” Ophiuchus argued. “And look, here comes Sagittarius and Capricorn.”
Capricorn, with her fish tail and tiny goat horns, seemed amused to see him. She elbowed Sagittarius. “Look, its Ophiuchus and his snakeskin scarf. I don’t really think it goes well with his coloring.”
Sagittarius shook her head. “Well, life isn’t fair, is it? Sometimes we just need to get over it. Don’t we, Ophiuchus?”
“Hello, Sagittarius. Hello, Capricorn.” Ophiuchus nodded respectfully to the two of his Zodiac sisters he knew had the most trouble with him.
Capricorn bleated. “Well, don’t sound so upset to see me, Ophiuchus. What do you have to be depressed about to begin with?”
“You should be grateful and happy you’ve even been invited to the party,” Sagittarius added.
“You know well Naga and I have been fighting for eons now,” Ophiuchus tried to explain. “And sometimes–”
“I offered to take care of him with my bow,” Sagittarius interrupted. “You said no, and said no quite a few times.” She shrugged. “You can’t complain about it if you’re not willing to accept help.”
“The Prince asked me to watch him,” Ophiuchus snapped. “So I’ll watch him, no matter what you two say.”
“The Prince was probably testing you, to see if your pride would cave before he has to correct you,” Capricorn snarled, unhappy Ophiuchus had lashed out. “It was probably a punishment, since you were so insistent that we keep you in the Zodiac family.”
“Yes, I don’t recall Cetan giving us so much trouble when we talked about making it a band of twelve,” Sagittarius agreed.
“He was fine with being excluded. Of course, he’s much happier and much more upbeat than you are. In fact, I was fine with keeping him in the Zodiac. Probably because he didn’t try to cut into my time.”
Capricorn was definitely ambitious, Ophiuchus knew. She had not been pleased at his intent to stay in the Zodiac constellation, especially after she had pleaded with the Prince himself over the matter. “I know you like watching over Earth, Capricorn,” Ophiuchus said. “But there was nothing wrong about wanting to be a part of the family, like I rightfully am. And Cetan has the same privilege as I do. Even if we are not as powerful nor as central to Polaris as you.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel sorry for you.” Capricorn shook her head. “So I’ll forgive you for cutting in on my space. But it won’t work. Even that snake can’t make me feel sorry for you, and I’m even less inclined to sympathize since you’ve been adamant that the Prince is the one who put him with you.”
Two identical figures appeared on the scene. “Capricorn, you really need to let it go,” the first one said.
“Yeah, Ophiuchus is not responsible for his pain,” the other said. “So you should ignore it. If he wants to say the Prince put him in charge of that hellish creature, let him.”
“He’s suffering,” the other continued. “If saying the Prince put him up to it is something that’s going to make him feel better, let him.”
Naga laughed. “How do you know I didn’t just convince him to keep me? And now that I’ve got him, I’m never going to let go?” he asked the twins.
Castor, the one on the right, blankly stared at him. Then he blinked, and said, “Ophiuchus was among the strongest in the night skies,” he said. “He would have been able to defeat you, if he chose to do so.”
Ophiuchus felt the heat rise in his cheeks, angry and frustrated at so many things all at once. He thought about trying to explain everything, all over again, but a couple of other Stars caught his attention. They were laughing and pointing at him from across the hall.
The other twin, Pollux, spoke up before Ophiuchus could excuse himself. “You were brought here from the earth, snake, while Ophiuchus was born of the night. Why would we assume you are stronger than Ophiuchus?”
“I might have come from Earth, but I have death in me,” Naga said smoothly. “Even you are not immune to death.” He unwrapped himself from Ophiuchus’ hands and wrists before rewrapping his body down the length of Ophiuchus’ body.
The twins exchanged looks and then, quietly and respectfully, excused themselves. “We wish you the best, Ophiuchus!” they called out, as they stepped back into the glittering celebration. “Good luck in getting better.”
Ophiuchus felt defeat sink into his very being. “Let’s go,” he said to Naga.
“Ooh, but the party has only just begun,” Naga said cheerfully, clearing relishing the discordance between Ophiuchus and the others.
“I don’t care,” Ophiuchus told him. “I’d been asked to come by the Prince, and that’s what I did. He didn’t tell me how long to stay here, and I’ll do as I please for once. That might even help; many here think I am incapable of doing that when it comes to keeping you in line. It will be good of me to show them I am still strong and still capable of choosing to do what makes me happy.”
“Good for you,” Naga muttered disdainfully. “Take a stand for yourself. I mean, really, after all this time, the Prince has just left me with you, and didn’t tell you anything about how long it would be, or even really why he gave me to you. You just can’t trust someone who hides the truth of these sorts of things.”
“I didn’t say that,” Ophiuchus murmured. He felt his tongue go dry at the thought of Capricorn’s words. Could Naga have been a punishment? “I’ve been a good servant to my master, and I will continue to do what is right.”
“Even when I’ve done my very worst to keep you unhappy?” Naga chortled with laughter. “I’m honored, I really am. This is perfect! A willing victim is always the best kind of victim.”
“I’m not a victim,” Ophiuchus countered. “I chose to watch over you.”
Naga laughed harder, his snake tongue lashing out of his mouth. “Hilarious!” he hissed. “Not just a victim of his prince, but of his own reasoning, too. See? It is as I told you earlier. You’re stupid.?
?? Naga shifted his face closer to Ophiuchus. “And you’re unhappy, and suffering, and ignored by all your so-called friends, and your so-called brethren of the Zodiac. Even the ones who offered to help you out at first, and even the ones who have only been wishing for you to be rid of me.”
Ophiuchus bristled. “I can take care of you, Naga, and I have done so for millennia.”
“You’re weak, and I only grow stronger as you fade,” Naga insisted. “We have equal power, but not equal purpose. I just have to wear you down, and make you give up; you can hate me or love me or just tolerate me, but you’ll never be able to get me to stop fighting you. It is just as I told the others: Death resides in me, and all of life is just an attempt to keep death at bay. And you will not succeed. Even if I go out along with you, I will have the final victory in the end.”
Ophiuchus stopped and felt the full weight and meaning of Naga’s words. He almost shuttered, as he realized Naga had solid arguments against him. It was possible Naga would leave him to death, that Naga would destroy his light and his life. “You might one day find such an ending,” Ophiuchus said, “but not this day.” He reached out and snapped Naga’s jaw, catching his sliced tongue between his lips. “Come. We are leaving and heading back to our home. No matter what the party is for, we are not welcome here anymore.”
Naga rolled his yellow-green eyes. “You know, you might want to consider a truce between us,” he said, his voice silky smooth. He curled his body around Ophiuchus’ body, almost like a warm hug, as they stepped out of the Kingdom Hall.
“Why’s that?” Ophiuchus asked.
“Because, like it or not, we are unwelcome,” Naga said. “You were not welcome even before I came along. You were too busy trying to cut in line between Sags and Capri. They had reason to distrust you and hate you, and with me along, their condemnation is all the more justified in their own minds.”
Ophiuchus said nothing as Naga continued.
“Ophiuchus, we could make a very good partnership,” Naga insisted. “I can’t disobey the Prince of Stars any more than you could–he rules over the earth as easily as he does the Stars and angels–but there’s no need for us to be fighting the whole time we’re put together, right? Can’t you think of some things we’ve agreed on in the past?”
“No. You always go against me,” Ophiuchus remarked.
“Well, you’re doing that just now,” Naga pointed out. When Ophiuchus did not respond, the snake cackled. “Just think about it. We don’t have to be enemies, here, do we? That’s the only reason I am making your life hard, isn’t it? Because you’re letting me, and because you think I’m the enemy. The Prince never said anything about that.”
Again, Ophiuchus did not answer.
He thought it over. Naga, as much as he hated to admit it, had a point. He didn’t have to make him an enemy. The Prince was the one who saw Naga as dangerous, as a problem. Ophiuchus could probably get along well with Naga. After all the time they’d been together, it was similar to what he suspected a human felt about his shadow; it was a quiet, dark kind of comfortable familiarity, and it was not desirable, perhaps, but it was there, and there was no getting rid of it.
He thought of all his friends who had watched him suffer with Naga suffocating him, and the pain – oh, the memories of the pain had been the worst. Memories of Naga squeezing him, sniping at him, hissing at him, all while the earth kept going around its sun, and the other Zodiac either ignored him or eventually left him to suffer, unable or unwilling to argue with him or deal with him.
It was only as they came upon Ophiuchus’ home–a bright and shining palace, made of the purest transparent gold, that his thoughts were overtaken.
Ophiuchus was surprised to see the Prince of Stars waiting for him on his doorstep. “Lord? What are you doing here?” he asked.
“What am I doing here?” The Prince smiled kindly. “Shouldn’t the question be, ‘what are you doing here?’ I invited you to come to my party.”
“I was just there,” Ophiuchus insisted. “I did not disobey you.”
“No, you did not,” the Prince agreed. “But it is early. The party is not over.”
“I thought it best to leave.” Ophiuchus could hear the echoes of discouragement, judgment, and alienation. He looked up into the Prince’s eyes without holding back.
“Such sorrow.” The Prince shook his head. “It is never easy, bearing a burden. And it is harder yet to bear one which no one understands.”
Ophiuchus stepped back. “I chose this,” he said. “I understand it is much harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t realize just what you were asking of me. I don’t think I am the right one to look after Naga anymore.” He looked at the snake, who had gone silent in the Prince’s presence. “I’m not strong enough to carry on for much longer, and I just want to be happy again, and to have the respect of the others. Please, my lord, please take this pain from me, and forgive me for being so weak.”
“You’ve carried this for so long. You are stronger than you realize,” he said. “There is no need for apology.” The Prince then looked at him. “Ophiuchus, do you know the reason I invited you to the party tonight?”
“No, lord.”
“Tonight is a special night; tonight, one of my promises is going to be fulfilled. I have need for Naga,” he said. “I am going to release him back down to Earth, because the time has come for his head to be crushed by the heel he tried to poison.”
“He will be punished?” Ophiuchus asked. Naga, still silent, fell limp around his body.
“Do you think it is wrong to punish him?” asked the Prince.
Naga lay across his arms, still alive and warm. Ophiuchus felt all the burden of all the long years retreat, and the spirit inside of him grew. His muscles were taut, and his body, now completely upright, and he felt all his world within him and around him swell with happiness and goodness. Ophiuchus looked back at the Prince. “For a while, I thought he would be nothing but trouble,” he said. “I thought I was doing something for you to show you I could be of help to you. But I know from Naga I am not able to help you as much as I’d like, that I’m not needed for your work to get done. I think of all the things he has put me through, and all the things I have been through as a result. He tried to call himself my friend, but he is no one’s friend. He has done nothing but try to dissuade me from following you. He brings nothing but division between me and my friends and family. He is my enemy.” Ophiuchus blinked, as though hearing it for the first time from his own words made it more real and clearer than ever before. “He is my enemy.”
“So what is your answer?” the Prince asked.
A moment passed between them before Ophiuchus spoke again. “Your will should be done,” Ophiuchus answered. “He has brought both good and bad into my life; you will judge him according to what is right.”
The Prince of Stars reached out and took hold of Ophiuchus. “Let’s go back to the party and give him a proper send off.”
Ophiuchus smiled as Naga, his mouth still sealed shut, could only scowl. All of his trouble, all of Ophiuchus’ pain and longsuffering, all of it suddenly seemed worth it, to get to this moment.
The End
© 2015 C. S. Johnson
Chaos on Cass
By Chris Raven