David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“Chains are a deceptive thing,” Pelarak said. “Who makes them? What gives them their strength? It is shallow to call them iron and unbreakable, yet foolish to call them self-made. You have chains upon you. Break them.”

Pelarak waved his hand as he said the last command. A sudden urge filled Aaron’s heart. He could think of nothing but escape. It seemed every flight response had triggered in his mind. Every muscle clenched and fought against the invisible chains. He felt his skin rub raw. His knees and shoulders throbbed in agony. Blood dripped upward in a perverse rain. Finally he flung his entire body forward, straining so hard against the chains his neck bulged and his forehead dripped sweat that drifted upward into his hair before pooling into thick drops that rose to the ceiling.

No matter how hard he tried, he could neither break the chains nor stop his trying.

“This is life,” Pelarak said, watching emotionless. “We struggle against our bonds, unable to break them, but only because we are foolish. You have made those chains, Aaron. Break them.”

He wanted to. Oh how he wanted to. It felt like his heart would burst, each rapid beat like a hammer blow to his chest. More blood floated upward from his wrists. His mind searched for the solution. Robert Haern had always insisted he’d know the answer to a question when asked, but did this priest ensure him the same fairness? What did he mean, chains of his own creation?

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. His tongue felt made of cotton.

“Then you will try harder,” Pelarak said. “Ignorance is not an excuse; it is a blindness fostered by this world. Your body will break, and you will die, all because of your ignorance.”

The man was clearly a priest of Karak. Only one thing came to mind that might explain the chains, and why he would think them his own creation: Ashhur.

“I’ve prayed to Ashhur,” Aaron shouted. He felt his maddening urge to struggle slowly subside. His breath shuddered as he hung limply from the invisible chains.

“Very good,” Pelarak said. “You’re making progress. Look to your hands and feet.”

Aaron did. No longer were the chains invisible. Though they felt like iron, they appeared to be made of white marble. Golden mountains decorated their keyholes. The room slowly darkened, though the chains remained bright, almost glowing.

“Symbols,” Aaron said, his voice a whisper. “They lie as easily as men.”

Pelarak’s face seemed to darken at this.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said. “I have something I want you to see.”

He stepped back. The room turned completely dark, although both the chains and Pelarak remained perfectly visible. A fire sparked in the center of the room. Within its center he saw the briefest image of an eye. The fire sparked again, then grew. It roared to the ceiling, enormous but without heat. Its life was quick, and as it died, a young girl stood before him, her fiery red hair tangled and unkempt.

“Aaron?” Delysia asked. Aaron felt his body tremble at the sound of her voice.

Just a lie, he thought. Just another lie.

But it was hard to believe that as she touched the side of his face. Her hand felt cold, but her touch was real. Tears ran down his cheeks. Her dress was charred as if by fire.

“They do lie,” the girl said. “The abyss is cold. The fires give no heat. Ashhur didn’t want me, so now I’m here. I gave no love to Karak, so he gives no love to me.”

“You’re not real,” he said. It sounded like a plea. “You’re with Ashhur. You went to a better place. You were good. You were innocent. ”

Pelarak laughed. Delysia cried. Her body faded upon an unfelt wind.

“No one’s innocent,” Delysia said through her sniffles. “But I worshipped something false. It didn’t matter how I prayed. I prayed to deaf ears.”

Aaron flung himself against his chains, desperate to touch her. She was fading away like a ghost. The darkness was claiming her, eating into her flesh so that it turned translucent. Pelarak waved a hand through her, scattering her image like smoke.

“You went to her,” the priest said. “I spoke with your father. I know what you have done. Do you not see how foolish you are? A girl. A young, stupid girl, and yet you thought she had wisdom?”

Aaron slumped, and his eyes stared at a floor with no texture or depth.

“Her prayers were so real,” he said. “She meant them. She felt them. That is what I wanted.”

Pelarak grabbed Aaron’s hair and jerked upward so they could stare eye to eye.

“Madmen gibber that demons live within them, and that their voices torment them daily. Do they not believe as deeply as that little girl did? Why not go to them for guidance?”

To this Aaron had no answer, but Pelarak did.

“Because she had a dream that you desired,” the priest said, letting go of Aaron’s hair. “You liked what she believed. It sounded sweet. But the only thing that matters is the truth. Would you willfully live a lie just because you like it? Should I tell you that your girl is fine, and that the world is a beautiful place, and that no one will ever hurt you? I’d love to live in that world, but that doesn’t make it real. What is real, Aaron? What do you know is real?”

He thought of Robert Haern dead, killed by his student’s hands. His hands.

“I know I’ve killed those I love,” he said.

“Ah yes, and why?” Pelarak asked. “What is it that brought about their murders?”

A light flashed in Aaron’s eyes. He knew. He saw his love and devotion, saw to whom he had devoted it. His guilt and shame coalesced into a hardened arrow, no longer aimed at himself. There was one person that deserved it all. The one who had strangled his soul and perverted his desires. The one who had used his love to inspire murder and destruction. His own father.

“I prayed to Ashhur,” Aaron said. It was no lie. “Because of that, people died.”

“Precisely,” Pelarak said. “Is that Ashhur’s power? Devotion leads to death? Karak is power, boy. He is the Lion. He is King of all, and all will tremble before his roar and bow to kiss his claws.”

Suddenly Pelarak was gone. The chains cracked and broke. Aaron crumpled to the ground, shivering in the darkness. He felt cold. His teeth chattered.

And then the Lion approached. It walked from afar, too far to be inside the small room. Its fur was fire, burning atop skin made of molten rock. Eyes swirling with hatred and smoke fixated upon his trembling form. When it opened its mouth, teeth the size of daggers glistened with fresh blood.

Behold the Lion, shouted a voice, impossibly deep and booming from every corner of the room. Behold the power of his majesty.

The Lion roared. Deep within its gullet, Aaron saw a thousand weeping lives. They reached upward and wailed, their cries mixing with the mighty roar of a god. Aaron felt his soul quiver. He mashed his face to the cold dark stone. Tears flowed from his eyes. He couldn’t think. He could only tremble in wonder.

Do you doubt my authority? the Lion asked. Who are you to me, mortal? When your life ends, I am the Truth that awaits you. Where shall you stand in my eternity? Will you worship beside me, or will I consume you in fire and grind your bones in my teeth?

Aaron sobbed shamelessly. He’d never felt such terror. He was naked before a god, pathetic and helpless. He pounded his fists against the floor. Sweat covered him like a cold sheet. The Lion roared again, and its breath was fire and teeth. His clothes ripped and his flesh tore. Blood spilled outward in bizarre directions, as if the laws of the world had no bearing within Karak’s sacred room.

Will you swear your life to me? the Lion asked.

A deep part of Aaron wanted to submit. He wanted the terror to end. The darkness would consume him, and it seemed wisest to surrender. Beside the Lion was better than the wailing he heard within. Infinitely better.