Fiction

Chapter 1: "Crossing Over"

Part 2

Ian's captors began to sing as they walked. The rhythm of their voices had some kind of power which lulled the boy into a an uneasy stupor. After an interminable length of time, the bird-men stopped and slowly lowered the pole with its human baggage to the forest floor. The pole slid between Ian's legs, chaffing his thighs. He yelled. The pain awakened his senses. He watched as one of his captors raised a pair of heavily muscled, bronze arms lifting what proved to be a mask from his head revealing the finely chiseled features of a human face. The man then pulled some leaves from a strangely colored bush and began to eat, chewing furiously.

To the young man's relief his abductors physically resembled him after all. The unreality and shock occasioned by his predicament overwhelmed him. Incredibly, he felt like laughing. Ian opened his mouth. What came out of him was a harrowing scream rising like a knife, cutting the air into abstract fragments of sound echoing the futility of his helplessness and pain. The net around him glowed eerily. It began to constrict again. The more it bit into his flesh, the more the boy screamed. He couldn't help himself. This can't be real, he tried to assure himself, it's a dream, this is not really happening to me! But his anguished cries of denial only became more frantic and hysterical as the net began to squeeze out what little oxygen he had left, preventing him from breathing at all. All Ian could see now was a face peering down at him. Strangely, the face did not look cruel. Its owner continued chewing something. Red saliva dripped from the corner of his captor's lips unto Ian' s cheek. The spittle burned before it numbed.

Removing the pulpy, masticated mess from his mouth, the man attempted to shove it between Ian's teeth but the trussed captive managed to jerk his head slightly before the net closed in preventing all further movement. This resulted in the chewed material landing on Ian's chin. The amorphous mush quivered. It pulsated as if alive. Ian screamed louder as he felt the viscous material begin to move up the lower part of his chin toward his open mouth. He slammed his lips together and clenched his teeth.

The unfamiliar face, now but inches from his own, began to sing softly causing the gelatinous red ooze to crawl with slow determination up toward Ian's mouth, defiling his lips even as it forced them to part, crawling inside him, molding around his gums. Ian tasted icy cinnamon before his mouth numbed. He felt a cold, alien entity slithering down his throat and then nothing. Before loosing consciousness all he could see were two large eyes growing ever larger in the face above him until there was no face at all. Around two black pupils, a yellow sea flickered and danced sweeping Ian up into them and an all consuming dizziness. As the boy passed out he felt a soothing, comforting sensation around his head.

Unknown to Ian, his captor was gently loosening the net that was feeding on the blood oozing from Ian's scalp. The man began to sing again as he petted the swirling tendrils of vine, even now sending out new shoots to further bind the boy. Within the melody of the song was a message, Yes, a debt must be paid but the blood is not for you. Smell the hair. Its strands of sunlight call to you. Nourishment enough is there. He gives it up as your offering. You may feed of that. Perhaps, his blood will be yours later, my pet. Perhaps.

The song continued, forcing the attention of the vine to shift from its hunger for blood into absorbing all the hair from the unconscious body wherever it could be found. Before it was hideously absorbed, the man plucked the last remaining strands from Ian's head and held them near the upper portion of his loincloth. That portion of the loincloth seemed to quiver as two eyes stared out from beneath the rustling feathers and a beak appeared. As it opened, a black tongue emerged to gently take the offering. The feathers then reshaped themselves protectively.

Hours later, Ian did not so much wake up as slowly relive the harrowing experiences involved in his capture. Somewhere around him, he heard the flitting movement of birds. They were singing. He felt warm and protected as if the sun were gently wrapped like a blanket around him. He opened his eyes expecting to find himself in his room. In the back of his mind was the bitter aftertaste of a particularly real and very nasty dream.

What confronted him reawakened feelings of both terror and awe. Looking down on him was the face of the most amazing girl he had ever seen. Silky white hair cascaded off her shoulders in wondrous waves like a halo outlining the soft contours of her amazingly proportioned facial features. They were dominated by beautiful, large green eyes and full, finely shaped red lips. Her skin was evenly tanned. She wore no covering over her breasts. They were pert, rounded and upturning, neither too large or small. He longed to touch them. The girl looked to be about his age. She smiled reassuringly down at him watching as the captive regained consciousness.

Ian suddenly became aware that he was unclothed. In embarrassment he grabbed some leaves attempting to hide his growing excitement. The leaves seemed to be as fluid as water. They had a life of their own, refusing to stay put as if repelled by the touch of his body, scurrying back to the ground. He heard a chorus of laughter and then silence as the girl spoke. He had no trouble understanding her. The voice was familiar to him from his dreams.

Are you so ashamed of your body you need to hide it from yourself?

Ian was shocked. He did not know what to say. Looking around he found himself circled by a group of seated individuals. Everyone was all but naked. They were staring intently in his direction. The girl continued, You have tasted the red juice. Even as I talk it moves through you. I know you can understand me. Are you too bashful to speak?

Ian moved his arms to prop himself into a sitting position. The net was off him. It was a good feeling to be unencumbered and free. Startlingly, he discovered that something was moving over his body. He woke fully with a sickening sensation when he noticed that life-like, scarlet images covered his chest, arms and legs. They reminded him of tattoos. By the itching that traveled up and down his entire length, he was certain all his surface flesh was so adorned. A strange probing feeling came from the images which suggested to Ian that they extended inside of him as well. The realistic images of strange plants and animals were slowly moving across his frame. He touched the shape of what appeared to be a dragon coiling and uncoiling around the upper part of his right thigh. Where his finger pressed into the skin, the creature seemed to move purposefully away from his pressure. Ian grabbed his head in amazement. It felt funny. Slowly the realization filtered through into his consciousness that there was no hair there. He was very bald.

What have you done to me! he screamed. Anger was beginning to get the best of him. All thought of his present predicament evaporated as he glared at the girl. There was an uncomfortable shift of movement from those arrayed around him. To his irritation there erupted another cascade of uncontrolled laughter from the onlookers.

The girl smiled as she sat beside him. Your hair may grow back. Then again, it might not. The body marks are for your own protection. Through them the Drya will know when your foot stumbles into her lair that you meant no harm. She will not sink her fangs into your skin.

As she said this she gently brought her hand to his thigh, her long fingers caressing the shape of the formidable looking dragon monster. As she did so, Ian could almost feel it purr. The boy also felt a warm pleasurable excitement inside he did not dare admit to himself The girl continued, This mark will speak to all of its kind that your flesh is not for their nourishment. These signs are not our doing. The red juice moves inside you, providing you with what it knows you need. By the look of things, it must think you very stupid.

Taken by surprise regarding the comment, Ian was speechless. After a moment, all he could think to say was Give me something to cover myself, please?

The girl stared into his eyes. Ian felt as if he were beginning to dissolve. She smelled of aromatic clover. It was intoxicating. Her voice drifted through and into him. You are a Gatekeeper, she said, Though a poor one I think. In this place, to give you something means you may grow to have power over it and what it represents. Such power can be used for evil. We must protect ourselves. You may have already succumbed to the voice that whispers. If you are a corrupted one, you represent a great danger to us. I would be sorry if that is the case. I like you. You are very funny. Your form is pleasing to me. It would be pleasurable for us both to play with it.

Ian turned red. It was a color he was beginning to hate. He ached to go home, to be anywhere that represented familiar territory. Please, you must send me back where I came from! he implored. Laughter again filled the air.

What is your calling? the girl inquired.

Ian stumbled around for a response. Calling? What do you mean?

She answered moving even closer to him as the skimpy weave of feathers around her loins readjusted to her body, subtly changing in color as it did so. She moved in closer still. Her body just touching his as she whispered, Your non-secret name?

I'm called Ian. His voice broke into a higher pitch as he found himself in the uncomfortable position of breathing directly into her breasts.

The name has a strong sound for one so ignorant and weak. There may be hope. As for sending you back, that I cannot do. I did not bring you here. You brought yourself. The land whispered that you were coming. Strange that the land listens to you when you appear not to be able to listen to yourself. You could be lying to us. I have been chosen to walk with you till you find your own way. If you prove to speak with the voice of the corrupting one, it is I who must put an end to your current existence. In either case, we are joined while you are here. It will prove to be very interesting. I am Tyiea, named after the mother of all worlds. I am 3rd in the House of Dreams. It was I who first predicted your awakening.

Ian scratched his hip energetically. Both he and Tyiea watched as the figures adorning his flesh there squirmed to escape the pressure of his touch. The muscles at the sides of her lips tightened. Come she said, before you can be judged you need to bathe. It will sooth what disturbs you. You are out of balance. It makes me itch as well.

Judged? Ian asked.

She rose taking his hand in hers. He followed her lead, noticing that the assembled audience was in the process of leaving as well. No one seemed to look back. The show appeared to be over for the moment. To his surprise, the weight of his bare feet felt amazingly cushioned by the multicolored grass they stood on. The vegetation appeared to respond as well to his pleasurable sensation of feeling. It almost twittered. Then the girls words came back to him like an ominous off key note. Judged? he repeated, What does that mean?

It means that for the present moment it must be determined whether you live or die. She who is first of the house of dreamers will make that decision. If she is impressed by you, who knows, you may yet get the flesh covering you too earnestly desire. Tyiea's eyes moved appraisingly up and down the length of his body. She slowly circled him, one hand now on his shoulder to keep him in place. Before taking his hand again, she murmured unapologetically as if to herself, Though for my pleasure, it pleases me to keep you just the way you are.

Ian felt uncomfortable being subject to such a frank assessment. It was a little demeaning. This was not something he was used to. He wondered if the girls he knew felt that way when they noticed him looking at them in that manner. An almost imperceptible blush from the plants along the path they were now traveling told him his feelings needed to be more guarded. Tyiea was quick to notice the change in color. She moved closer to him, singing quietly to herself. The melody was soothing. It moved out and before them both, seeming to bring a brighter color and perkiness to the vegetation they passed.

Observing Ian now looking quizzically at her she explained, It is vibrations that hold what we care about together. That is why we sing. Worlds are bound so. Each hums a little differently. Those who are Gatekeepers are able to alter the vibrations, moving at times between them, at other times changing their direction and strength, creating barriers where there were none or doors in which to travel through.

I should not be telling you this but I first felt your awakening. It is raw, undirected, without discipline, misdirected but very strong. If you are unable to thwart the urgings of the corrupting one, who is able to take the shape of many forms and guises, bending truth for its own needs, you will become that monster's minion. That is what it seeks. It is a thing we cannot allow. You are dangerous now because you do not know how to control what fate burdened you with. Should you succeed in understanding and controlling what you possess then a greater threat is posed. Only two options are open to you. You will leave here strengthened or be destroyed. It is no use pitying yourself. Crying over the injustice of things and what you may have lost will only prolong the process of judgment. I will help you if I can. I will be the quick deliverer of your death if I must. Do you understand what I am saying?

Ian stopped in his tracks. Withdrawing his hand from hers, his fingers contracted into a fist. As he stared menacingly at the girl, the small tendrils and vines of the plants around his feet began to wither, curling away from him. The muscles in his nose involuntarily expanded and contracted. He was furious as much from desperation as anger. He was scared. He wanted to strike out at something, anything!

She made no move to stop him as he slapped her face. Instead, she began to sing to herself. Ian felt the song as a soothing balm reaching down to cradle his very core. It moved inside of him, drawing up the anger, hopelessness and fear that had been threatening to drown him. Like a corrosive acid the emotional bile rose until the flood of negativity that it represented poured forth. He began to sob uncontrollably. For him, it was the lowest point in his life. He was totally defeated and alone.

Raising her hands, Tyiea placed them around his neck. Ian's head bent toward hers as she kissed him. She was without inhibitions, voluptuous. His tears became hers. Ian never felt so alive. The images that covered the surface of his body appeared to heighten his tactile sensations. Waves of thrilling tension ebbed and flowed through him. Her very touch was electrically charged, almost unbearable. She kissed his eyes as his hands explored the inviting but mysterious curves of her breasts. Tyiea and Ian lowered themselves in an embrace to the welcoming forest floor. For the first time in his life Ian was truly in love. Tyiea whispered to him, You will get through this. I will help. Inside our own vulnerability is a secret strength.

A thought flickered like an exploding star through the back of his mind. Tyiea was far older then she looked. Older then he could ever imagine. The thought quickly passed as he surrendered to the onslaught of sensations occasioned by healing touch.

Stay tuned for the next chapter