Legends of Belariath
Kalciane
Time to Say Goodbye
”You can't run from me forever.”
The voice came out from behind him, mocking and deathly calculating. He couldn't quite place where it was, except he knew it was behind him and far too close for his own comfort. In a desperate attempt to evade his pursuer, the man dove down a small ditch that had been carved out by the passing of a stream. His boots splashed lightly from impact, and he quickly curled against the dirt wall of the ditch, praying feverishly that the Torian would not notice him, that it would hopefully pass him in search for more worthy prey.
He had no such luck. A shadow drifted over his line of sight as a form with two large wings silhouetted itself against the sun overhead, looking much like some terrible bird of prey. It spotted him easily, crouched huddling in fear against the sides of the ditch, and quietly descended. The man could see the Torian's features now as she approached... she was tall, perhaps 5'11" or so, with flaming red hair, green eyes, and beautiful white wings. She wore a dress that left her arms bare and was slitted at the sides to allow her legs to move freely. Her skin was smooth as well, and from a detached corner of the man's mind he realized that she had beautiful, tanned skin. Not that it really mattered at this point -
”Why...?” he whispered, shivering as she unsheathed a knife strapped to her thigh. “Why are you doing this? What have I done wrong?”
The Torian tilted her head, smiling mischievously. “Oh... nothing at all, my good human,” she said. “I merely felt hungry today, and I wished to hunt... a pity that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
”Please, spare me!” he screamed. “I'll do anything! Anything you want!”
”Oh?” She seemed to consider the offer for a moment as she ran her thumb over the edge of the knife, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Then you can scream, because it will make things all the more enjoyable...”
The Torian fell on him, her knife glinting in the sun, and everything started to dissolve together in a fitful haze of orgasmic urge and excitement. She remembered saving the throat for last so she could hear the screams up until the very end. She remembered peeling tiny bits here and there, taking her time so he would not immediately die; slicing the tendons on his legs so he could only wriggle and writhe helplessly as she exacted her tortures upon him; extricating digits and watching the man scream in pure agony, unable to do anything but watch as he was summarily dismembered. She recalled the joy and ecstasy of the moment, relishing the soft sensation of her knife as it found a place to strike within the human's pathetic body, over and over again, each stroke seeming as if it would be the last, only to be followed with another. She felt her entire body warm as she continued to stab, even after the man was long dead.
Finally, the thrill of the moment subsided many minutes after the man's cries ceased. The Torian dropped her knife with numb, bloodied fingers, her entire body shuddering with fevered emotion as she closed her eyes. It was always this way. So much blood... so much pain... it was all so much *fun* for her. There was simply nothing in the world like it. She leaned back to catch her breath, not noticing the babbling of the stream or the rustle of the trees as the wind blew past. Time seemed to come to a stop as she savored the lingering sensations that stemmed from the deed, feeling her entire body tingle with forbidden delight.
The cry of a hunting bird overhead, followed by the shout of a man, brought her to her senses and the Torian looked upwards suddenly, a sense of panic infusing her whole body and replacing the pleasure. Had she been followed? Was the man part of some larger party? If she was found...
Oh, but the pleasure seemed to trickle back to her body through the extremities at the thought, and the Torian knew that she didn't care. After all, it was no fun if she took all the pleasure for herself... she wanted to see the repulsed, angered looks of those who came across the body. Their anger and their suffering was her delight, and if no one was present, it would mean nothing at all. She was not so selfish as to partake in the kill all by herself - no, she had to share it with others, and in that sharing she received even more of that selfsame pleasure that was tingling across her loins now. Slowly, the Torian got on her feet, folding her bloodstained wings about her. She peered cautiously over the edge of the ditch, preparing a magic spell just in case her victim's partner was armed. She could feel the excitement creep over her again at the prospect of two kills in one day.
At least two dozen men were headed for her, all of them armed with bows and clubs. Hunting dogs were rapidly sniffing the ground, trailing her scent.
In a moment, the Torian's confidence was quickly replaced with cold fear. She knew she had no time to wash the blood off of herself, as it was everywhere: her clothes, her arms, her legs, her face... not to mention that the man's scent was most likely smeared across her body as well. Nor could she expect to reason with them, as they were merely humans: unthinking, unreasonable, and pathetic. The tingle of excitement was still there, though... however, she pushed it aside as panic quickly seized her nerves. Without thinking, she immediately opened her wings and launched herself upwards towards the sky, trying to gain as much altitude as she could in an attempt to flee to the safety of the trees.
There were shouts of alarm from below her, and she tried to ignore them. Arrows began flying at her. She managed to avoid the first barrage through sheer luck, as she could not afford to turn herself around to see where the hunters were exactly. A second wave hit, and she caught an arrow in her leg, making her gasp in pain. A second and third arrow struck her in the right wing just as she was about to reach the cover of the trees, the head burying deep into her. The burning pain that resulted was so great that she lost all concentration and toppled from the sky towards a patch of grass, tumbling to a painful halt as she struck the ground.
The Torian snarled in anger and tried to get up, but it was too late. Moments later, the party was on her, striking out with clubs until she lost consciousness.
_____
The very next thing she remembered was pain, all over her entire body and threatening to overtake her being. Pain in her arms, pain in her legs, pain throbbing inside her head. She first tried to move herself and found that she was bound from head to foot with metal wires, so as to prevent the possibility of her burning them off. They were coiled so tightly that they nearly cut into her skin, and wrapped in such a way that struggling just made them tighter. Growling in annoyance, she then opened her eyes and saw that she was apparently in a mage's study. Bookshelves filled with tomes and volumes of all varieties littered the room, and the rest of the space was filled with tables lined with all kinds of magical devices and on-going experiments. There was just enough room to walk around, albeit uncomfortably, in the spaces between the tables and shelves.
A voice came from somewhere in the dimly-lit mess. “Ah, I see you are awake, my little Torian,” it said with an amused, deep male voice. “How was your sleep?”
She hissed and spat, struggling to free herself from the bonds. “Show yourself,” she muttered. “Untie me at once!”
”Do not be a fool,” the voice said, seemingly moving around her as it spoke. It must have been a mage casting an invisibility spell on himself, she realized. “After what you did to that poor man, you are fortunate to be even alive.”
The Torian ignored that and sniffed, trying to adjust to the pain in her body. “What do you want from me?” she breathed, knowing that he wouldn't have saved her life for no reason.
But the mage ignored her, as he continued to walk around the room unseen. Vials of foul liquid and magical tomes floated about of their own accord as he picked them up. “I promised those men that you would pay for your acts... and that you would never be able to do such a thing again in this world,” he said, chuckling to himself. A vial emptied itself into another, larger vial. “And... well, they readily accepted, once I told them of my proposed solution.”
”If you are going to kill me, then do it now,” the Torian spat. “I do not fear death.”
”Oh, no, I will not be doing such a thing,” the mage said, sounding disdainful and even slightly hurt. “After all, I am not *you*; I do not kill out of malice. No, I find it far more interesting - and productive - to simply redirect misguided ones such as yourself.”
The Torian smirked. “What do you plan to do to me? Lecture me on the evil of killing people? Your pathetic little plans will have no effect whatsoever on me.”
The magical tome that had been floating in the air opened, and the pages flipped by rapidly beneath an invisible finger. “You know, little Torian, you should be less arrogant considering that I now hold your life in my hands,” he said. “I can do whatever I want to you, you know. I can make you my slave, and with my magics, you will be forced to love every moment of degradation that I could bestow upon you. Or I could cast a curse upon you so that you will never die, but be shunned everywhere you go. I could make your life miserable, little Torian... so miserable that death will be a reprieve. But such is not my style - quite the opposite, I find it far more interesting to use your kind as test subjects for the greater good of magic.”
The Torian arched an eyebrow. “Subjects,” she stated flatly, her tone disbelieving. Was this her final fate? “You want me as... a test subject?”
”Yes!” the voice cried out, growing more jovial. “I am dearly fond of my experiments, and it is *so* difficult to find willing humans to sacrifice themselves in the name of magic... namely because they *are* experiments, which tend to fail... rather often. But no matter. You will be my test subject, for this: my greatest experiment to date.”
She smirked again. “So, instead of simply killing me, you are going to do it in a bizarre fashion as a side effect of your tests. I have to say, I admire your way of thinking, although you are still a fool.”
There was a thick pause in the air as electricity seemed to crackle about the study. “Do not compare my mind to yours, little Torian,” the voice said tightly. “I have read the thoughts that run in your brain, and it simply appalls me that such a creature as yourself exists. You are a twisted, evil creation that, by all rights, should not be allowed to exist. But I do not believe in extermination of life, as life is a precious gift from the Gods to extinguish it would be disrespectful, and to question the Gods' will. I do not understand their ways, but by their will, you shall live.”
The Torian smirked and struggled again, letting the wires cut into her flesh. Blood trickled in coils down the metal strings. “Shut up and do something, old man!” she shouted. “If you are so intent on reforming me, then stop bragging and start displaying your power!”
Nothing happened.
”As I thought,” she said. “You were nothing but a - “
A sudden bolt of ethereal lightning struck her, rendering her silent. The metal ties dropped around her miraculously, leaving her free to move except once she tried to, she found herself completely immobilized. Her clothes - still blood-stained and torn - shredded away completely beneath the force of the bolt. She could feel her hair standing on end. An abrupt sensation of pain tore through her chest. She tried to scream, but her throat seized up and refused to work. The energy surrounded her completely and only seemed to increase in intensity.
From within the haze of pain, she could hear the mage's voice. “You will no longer hurt or destroy, little one...” it commanded softly.
The Torian could feel her mind being erased, one thought at a time. Slowly, all of the times she had killed vanished from her mind, leaving her mentally grasping for the memory as it was snatched from beneath her. She tried to scream in protest, but her mouth moved by itself to echo the mage's words. “I - will - no - longer - hurt - “
The mage continued as the pain steadily increased, growing unbearable now. “You will find a new purpose in life,” he said calmly, still audible even within the cacophony that was now the Torian's existence.
”I - will - find - a - new - purpose - “ The words seemed to take on more meaning as her own mind continued to blank, emptying itself with slicked ease beneath the weight of the magic forcing itself into her.
”You will live life to the fullest, never remembering who you once were.”
”I - will - not - remember - “
And then the pain came to a hilt as she felt something simply *tear* away inside of her with an almost audible sensation. Her mouth opened and flexed, trying once more to scream and articulate the sheer pain, but the energy bolt held her fast and drowned out her own voice with its crackling power. The fluttering shred of something seemed to fold in on itself - once, twice, three times, forever - until it was a neat little pocket of soul resting deep down inside her heart. With that, the energy bolt disappeared as abruptly as it came, leaving the Torian to collapse onto her knees, her body sheened with sweat. Her wings and hair, now both infused with a deep hue of purple, draped across her form messily. The mage chuckled as she fell, offering a gloved hand that appeared to be nothing more than a floating glove to help her up.
”There, little Torian, do you feel better?” he said, still mirthful. “I am glad you survived, by the way. You seem to be fairly resilient.”
The Torian responded slowly, her voice dead and flat. “I... feel better.”
”Good. Do you feel ready to start your new life?”
A moment of hesitation. “... no.” It took all of her effort just to form the words, for now she no longer knew anything.
”I thought as much. Would you like for me to arrange lodging for you in the town? I am sure they will think different of you now... although that is something I cannot guarantee.”
The Torian drew her wings about herself instinctively, noting that they were now a deep shade of purple. Now? Something clicked in her mind. No. They were always purple. Yes. Always had been.
”Please,” she croaked, suddenly feeling the dryness of her throat. “I would... like that.”
”Oh, but you cannot leave looking like that,” the mage's voice said, almost malicious in its teasing now. “You need to wear clothes, my dear... and you need a name that other people can refer to you by. After all, what is a person without a name?”
”Clothes... name...” The words seemed to have so little meaning as she uttered them.
”Yes,” the mage said patiently, as two identical golden bracelets formed themselves from nowhere. Each was etched with intricate carvings and radiated an aura of magical energy. They hovered about for a moment, then slipped themselves onto the Torian's arms as she extended them mutely on instinct. Once they fit snugly about her forearms, a blue dress identical to the one she had been wearing appeared on her body, shimmering slightly from the dimensional transit before settling into reality. The Torian barely noticed the change, her face completely devoid of emotion as the procedures continued.
The mage spoke again, his voice even more amused now. “Yes, you look quite pretty, my little Torian. What would you like your name to be?”
A decision. This was far too much to demand of her now. She balked, and slowly formed the answer. “... don't know...”
”I expected as much. Such a pity, it appears you will have to learn all over again... I suppose I shall call you Kalciane. Yes, Kalciane... for it is a beautiful name for a beautiful Torian, which is what you are now. Not that thing that I dragged in from those hunters... oh, no. You are a new person, Kalciane. Say your name, please.”
The Torian blinked, her mouth forming each syllable carefully. “Kal-ci-a-ne...”
”Yes. Beautiful... everything worked! You are my finest creation to date, Kalciane... and you will be a great step ahead for my work. Now, go forth and breathe, my dear... yes, breathe! Live and be well, Kalciane!”
The mage gestured with his gloved hand, and Kalciane abruptly disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the room empty once more - save for the tables and shelves. From somewhere in one of the darkened corners, there was a soft, satisfied sigh, followed by a mirthless chuckle.
_____
The first feeling she knew was coldness, pulsing inside her chest with steeled determination. She tried to open her eyes, failed, and tried again, to see the ceiling of simple peasant-style home (although she would not know to call it that until much later). She sat up in her bed and suddenly stared at her hands, marveling at how they seemed to be there. She brushed a few strands of reddish-purple hair from her face, feeling quiet amazement as she flapped what must have been wings on her back. She flapped a bit harder, as if to reassure herself they were still there, and a single purple feather drifted lazily onto the ground. She bent over to pick it up, looking at it for a very long time as she turned it over and over to examine each little detail of it. It was purple was well, the feather.
She felt fine. Perfectly fine.
There was something wrong with that, but as hard as she tried she could not figure out what it was. Instead of puzzling over it, she moved to stand up on her feet and nearly fainted as the coldness that had been throbbing in her chest burst outwards and threatened to overtake her consciousness. Biting, tainted cold. Leaning against the wall for support, she gasped in panic and tried to remember who she was and what she was doing here. Nothing came to her, except for one word...
”Kalciane.”
She blinked. Kalciane? Yes, that was her name... even if she did not know for sure how it came to be. She looked around the room some more, then stepped out into the darkening village around her.