Chapter 11
“Barker was right. She’s not the One. They’ll have her eaten before the week’s out and Panther cast Outer World.”
“They’ll want to fatten her up some first. Have you seen her bones? Poor pet.”
“Ha ha! At least we’ll be rid of those mutant offspring of his. Filthy mutts!”
“Imagine, two failed leaders, all because they each brought in the wrong One!”
“Shh, that old bear’s waking up.”
It wasn’t difficult to fake sleep when her muscle tone had gone and her pulse ran slow. Elanora waited till the dogs left her cell before reaching for the semi-filled vial of blue water they had left her. It was better than the murkish brown stuff that was her usual fare, but hardly enough to repair the damage it was doing. The dogs’ conversation puddled in her head. She strained it for information but there was nothing new. They didn’t seem to care what she overheard anymore. She was no threat to anyone except maybe the panther.
Elanora scratched another tally mark into the wall. They didn’t represent days because they were immeasurable here. They only indicated sleeps and she counted up to thirty, thirty-five, forty. Judging by the wasting of her body, whatever length of time it was, would soon prove fatal.
“Good morning Bear…Good morning Elanora,” she conversed listlessly. A shudder in his coat was her only acknowledgement from the giant bear whose back was always against her.
She dipped a finger into the blue liquid and ran it over the ulcers in her mouth, dipped again then over the sores on her legs.
Zsa Zsa pranced into the cell and snapped at her knees. “You aren’t in the enclosure yet! Hurry along. Panther’s patience is running out with you. If you cannot change his offspring soon…let’s just say, I wouldn’t like to be you.” He swung his head disdainfully from side to side, sneezed then pranced out again, saving a final snap for the snout of the guard bear.
Elanora took a swig of brown water and gripped the bench as her head swam. While her face was still puckered, she stumbled to the enclosure where the offspring awaited the day’s session.
“What tricks are you teaching them today?” snarled a beast over the gate.
“We know time wasting when we see it!” murmured another.
“You think it’s easy giving mutants a soul?” she fired back, scratchily. “Why don’t I try it on one of your pups? I’m sure that’d be easier. Tell Panther you want to bring me one of your own. Tell him his are useless!”
The beasts dropped their paws from the gate and rejoined the team building the barricade, looking nervously about for the panther.
“That’s right. Too scared aren’t you? You better hope I am the One!” she screamed after them, slumping to the floor to catch her breath.
Over time the smirks of her guards had been replaced by scowls and threatening growls. Now there was contempt. If she didn’t grant souls soon then Panther would lose face and she was meat. It was just a question of how long the panther was prepared to wait.
She sat in the centre of the enclosure, staring into the darkening cavern beyond and imagined her escape. Any idea of going over the gate was ruled out by the constant presence of guards. Even if she made it past them there were all the other animals working on the barricade to negotiate. Maybe she could make a deal with one or two to exchange a soul for their children for her freedom. That might work, but of course wasn’t that as bad as granting a soul to an offspring?
The offspring hung their heads whining from their peculiar muzzle mouths.
“Go on, fetch,” she said and tossed a stick which landed barely past her feet. The aging pups shuffled around her flipping the stick and displaying their tricks. Finally she looked up, granting them her attention. Their large eyes stared, whiskers quivering.
“You really want some love, don’t you guys?” she said, patting their hides. “I’m afraid kindness is all I’ve got for you.” An offspring she had named Buttercup because of a yellow patch under her chin, licked her hand and nuzzled her neck.
“And that’s all you need, isn’t it? Not knowledge or insight or wisdom. You are happy just as you are.”
She continued the farce of training from her seat on the ground but her vision blurred and her throat hurt to swallow. The relentless clanking of tools and shifting materials bit into her head until it throbbed. She could keep up the charade no longer and stumbled back to her cell. Lying on the hard floor she rode the beat of pain under her skull. Soon it pulsed behind her eyes and although it made her nauseous, it also reminded her of another pulse that had once delved into her eyes. Ashden’s connection had reached right inside her and made her glow. “You are seen. You are loved. I will never forget you.” Had he said that? The recollection consumed her and bit by bit she became aware that her head was now pain free.
After another unsettled sleep, Elanora scratched her forty-first tally mark into the wall. She sat back on her knees reviewing each stroke, considering how faint they were getting. This latest one had barely made an indent. Maybe I should have been writing something deep and meaningful all this time instead of depressing tallies, she thought, for she hadn’t strength enough left to write anything important now. No famous last words.
Her hair was lank and the pieces of her long plait fused together so that it hung like a knotted tail down her back. Her uniform was ragged. The brown water had sapped her of more minerals than it supplied and her skin was freckle free and preternaturally pale beneath the grime. If she didn’t find a way out soon it wouldn’t matter that the beasts would kill her, she was dying anyway. Her gums bled and her skin itched from daily wipe downs of the foul liquid. Any hope of escape was as faded as the tally marks. So too her ability to outwit the enemy.
After stirring from a daze with the marking stone still in her hand, Elanora crept over to the guard bear. Instead of giving her usual greeting she reached out and touched his luxuriant fur. No wonder he had once been loved. His whole body invited hugging. As her fingers sunk into his rich coat and she lost herself in the pleasure of a warm touch, the bear flinched and struck her away with his paw. She flopped back like a raggedy doll and lay there, drained. She didn’t go into the enclosure that day. Nor the next. What did it matter?
Elanora finally roused herself when a plaintive whimper filtered through her numbness. One of the offspring was hurt. Drawn to the suffering she crawled into their den. It was Buttercup. There she lay, mostly wolf except for her panther black ears and cat tail, with deep gashes down her neck and across her flank. The other creatures turned miserably about in circles, keeping wary eyes on the gate. Several stepped closer only to retreat to the shadows.
“Poor Buttercup,” she crooned, “Oh you poor, poor thing. What happened to you? Rest your head here.” She stroked and soothed her brow and nuzzled into her yellow fur. For a moment she was transported to the warm comfort of her own bed. She imagined her soulings fur soft against her cheek and the wonderful love of another living being. She poured love into the wounded Buttercup whom she had kept for so long at a distance. Oh why did I wait so long? she thought. Here was love and friendship freely available. Here was the companion she had longed for all these wretched days.
Thus it was done.
Elanora woke with her arms still cradling Buttercup and the panther leering above her. “Well done, little Soulmaker,” he said. “Well done at last.”
An icy sweat broke over her skin.
“And it only took such a little push in the end,” he purred and flicked his tail in a self-satisfied way as he sauntered off leaving footprints of blood. Zsa Zsa marched across and snapped at Buttercup’s paws. She staggered up and limped after Panther, head down, tail dragging.
Elanora’s bones were heavy. Like a body at the bottom of an emptied bath. Completely drained. She couldn’t work out why her conscience gripped her. Listlessly, she dragged herself back to the dungeon, found the fur blanket and curled up on it.