Chapter Twelve: With A Little Help From My Consorts

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain continued to fall, pelting the earth at a noticeable slant. Whenever there was a flicker of lightning, it was reflected in the metal blades that formed the rungs of the Knight's Ladder.

And there I was, standing at the bottom of this ladder, with several hundred cobra consorts bowing down to me. I was reminded of that scene towards the end of Return of the King, when all those people bowed down to the four hobbits…and I was able to imagine just how uncomfortable Frodo and company felt. I really didn't know what to do with these creatures.

Should I say something? Do something?

"So…" I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "What happens now?"

Gradually, all of the consorts 'stood' back up, but no one spoke, prolonging the awed silence. Thankfully, Burning Dusk finally broke that silence, saying, "The Knight walkss among uss! I ssay we celebrate, Hyperion be damned!"

A roar of approval and agreement rose from the crowd, and many of the consorts dispersed, making their way back to the camp. As I walked through the remaining spectators, I felt soft…sensations, all over my body. Almost like pieces of silk being brushed across my skin.

Oh fuck, I think the cobra people were touching me…

Glimmering Scales, who was slithering alongside me, noticed my discomfort. "Why do you shudder sso? Doess physsical contact disscomfort you?"

"It's not about the physical contact, no…" I had to clear my throat again. "I mean… Nothing personal, but this is just like being stuck in a room with a bunch of invisible TSA screeners, and it's really starting to skeeve me out."

"I don't know what that meanss."

"Yeah, because you're lucky enough to have not invented airplanes, yet."

"I don't know what that meanss, either."

God damn, this place is just where pop culture references come to die.

I sped up, making my way out of the crowd and away from those touchy-feely minds… Man, I was glad to be away from all that. If someone's gonna be getting all handsy on me like that, it better be in bed, not from a bunch of whacked-out sentient cobras who think I'm some kind of legendary hero. Not cool.

The festivities began after the remaining light of the sunset faded away. I was given my own teepee for the night, and I chilled there for a little while, sitting down and allowing myself to gather my thoughts. I'd just climbed a ladder of swords—I needed a small break, okay?

There was a younger female consort from Clan Nathair by the name of Whispering Rain, who was sent into my teepee to prepare me for the celebration being thrown by Burning Dusk and all the other clan chieftains of the Western Fires. From what I could hear of the party going on outside…well, the cobra people have reminded me mostly of Native Americans, so far, but they sure did not celebrate like Native Americans—it sounded like fucking Valhalla out there.

"Why do you cover yoursself with hidess?" Whispering Rain asked me after she introduced herself and set down the wooden bowl she'd been telekinetically carrying in front of her.

I blinked, taking a brief moment to figure out what the hell she was trying to say. "You mean…why do I wear clothes?"

"Thiss iss what you call them, 'clothess'? What purposse do they sserve—I've been curiouss ever ssince you firsst arrived."

"Uh…" I blinked again, cursing the White Queen in my mind—when she'd mentioned that I would have consorts to help me on my quest…well, she obviously hadn't told me everything about them, as I'd found out…as I was still finding out… "Well, uh… People like me need to wear them, or else we'll freeze to death in colder weather."

And I don't want my dick hanging out for all of you to see. That was what I was really thinking, but I decided to keep that to myself.

"But how do you paint yoursselves if you are wearing…clothess…?"

"We…don't paint ourselves… Look, let's just get this 'preparation' stuff over with, alright?"

"I am here to paint you for the celebration," Whispering Rain declared. I felt her telekinetic grip tug at my shirt. "You may keep everything elssse, but you musst at leasst remove thiss upper piece. Your ssymbol will go on your chesst, but your hidess, your clothess are in the way."

"Fine, but the pants are staying right where they are," I grumbled. The shirt I was wearing was already torn and muddied up from the beating it had taken at the hands of the underlings who'd stormed my house—it was barely even a shirt, anymore. This was the third or fourth shirt I've gone through since that meteor blew up the high school; this really wasn't a good time to be an article of my clothing.

Whispering Rain slithered up in front of me, bringing the bowl with her, which I could now see was full of a reddish-orange paint. The female consort did not use any kind of brush, either—she simply extracted a small blob of paint from the bowl, and, with her natural telekinesis, gently drew that blob of paint across my chest, making a wide arc. When the arc was finished, the blob was no more, so Whispering Rain pulled another sphere of paint from the bowl.

It reminded me of those videos of astronauts in space, when they'd open their pouches of orange juice, and it would all come floating out in those little orange juice-spheres. Only in this case, it was body paint, not orange juice, and I obviously was not ingesting it. But it really was interesting to watch…not only the paint, but even the consorts themselves—when you evolve without hands and a natural ability to manipulate matter with your mind…your way of life is going to be a hell of a lot different compared to mine.

Whispering Rain drew several lines across my face, following the contours of my jaw and cheekbones. A final line was added afterwards, running from the middle of my hairline down to my chin.

"Won't the rain just wash this all away once I step outside?" I asked as the female consort continued to draw more curves across my chest.

"If you allow it to, yess."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. No shit. "How do I…uh…not allow it to?"

"How did you climb the ladder?"

Upon entry into the Medium, a Hero's previously-dormant powers are awakened, though the Hero does not feel this.

It may be a while before your Hero senses his own power.

The earliest part of your Hero's quest will be the most difficult, as he struggles to find his Aspect within himself.

A Hero's powers are fueled through his belief in them.

At first, your Hero may invoke his Aspect in times of great stress, but these occasions will be extremely isolated and brief. It is not until your Hero consciously, purposefully invokes his Aspect that he can truly begin his quest of self-discovery.

Your Hero's mastery over his Aspect will increase until his Aspect is as natural to him as breathing or blinking. It is a muscle that must be discovered within, and then exercised.

"Stop running from me…"

I heard the Phantom's voice as I shook my head. After Whispering Rain asked me that last question, my mind suddenly exploded with random pieces of knowledge that I had never known before in my life—almost as if they'd been planted, waiting for some kind of trigger. Then the Phantom's voice cut through everything.

"Knight, iss ssomething wrong?" Whispering Rain had paused in her work. I can only imagine how I must have looked, shaking my head like a madman.

"Uh, no," I blinked several times, taking a few deep breaths, calming myself down. "Just got a little dizzy for a sec."

But those strange, foreign thoughts had remained, and I could remember everything they had told me. It was pretty unsettling…and it wasn't the first time it had happened, either—I'd had strange thoughts that weren't mine once before, during our long walk to the Forbidden River, when I'd been thinking about the consorts and their telekinesis.

Whispering Rain thankfully finished her work without asking me any more questions. When she was done, I looked down to see what she had done. I couldn't see the paint on my face, but I could see what she had drawn on my chest. It was a series of curves and arcs that formed the image of a crashing wave, and I gave a small start of surprise when I saw and recognized it—I had seen that exact same symbol in one of the Skaian clouds during Prospit's solar eclipse. It had been made of blazing amber light, however, not red body paint. But the symbol was the same.

"What does this symbol mean?" I asked the female consort. "I've seen it before…"

"It iss the Knight'ss ssymbol…er, your ssymbol, rather…" Whispering Rain shook her head once, giving a quiet sigh. "Thiss will take ssome time to get ussed to, having the Knight walking among uss… The Knight'ss ssymbol—your ssymbol, it ussed to shine in our sskies, like the Great Sky Flame, over the Knight'ss Mountainss. These days, however, it iss obsscured by the raincloudss. If it ever exissted at all, that iss…"

"How do you know the symbol belongs to me?"

"Why elsse would Hyperion hide it away from uss?" Whispering Rain countered. "The mighty Denizen hass devoted much time to wiping out all knowledge of the ancient legendss, of the coming of the Knight, but our elderss keep the sstories alive through oral tradition. You shall hear the sstory at the council fire tonight."

With that done, I was finally able to step outside into the rain. After I walked several paces toward the center of camp, I noticed that I didn't feel wet at all. I looked up and realized that even though the rain was falling everywhere around me, somehow none of it was hitting me. I could also barely see a very faint amber haze, hanging in the air over my head.

I'm not really sure how I was redirecting the rain… I think I might have accidentally learned how to do it when I got that sudden burst of foreign thoughts, earlier… I mean, that was really the only way I could explain it—the knowledge of how to redirect the rain couldn't have sprung from nowhere, could it?

I decided to put it out of my mind. Somehow, I was redirecting the rain, but maybe if I started actually thinking about it, I might inadvertently mess something up…and then I'd be soaked for the rest of my stay on this acid-trip of a planet.

There were dozens of casks of what appeared to be some kind of wine stacked up all around the open center of the camp. Many of the teepees too close to the center of the camp had been taken down and moved further back, giving the celebrations more space. I saw several consorts engaging in some sort of dance—their scales glistening in the firelight, weaving and twisting in and around their own bodies in a dizzying, spinning dance.

In the center of everything was a giant, roaring council fire, which was more than enough to illuminate the entire revelry. Music filled the air, countering the pattering of the rain, as the musicians from the various clans played their pipes, beat their drums, sang up to the skies.

I also noticed movement up in the sky, not too far over our heads. There were small birds dancing around the firelight—cardinals, judging by their vibrant red color. I heard them tweeting, making conversation with one another in their strange, incomprehensible language. I'd seen a couple cardinals these past two days, but only a couple—they must stick to the skies above the clouds.

There were several large stone slabs set into the ground around the council fire, and a large feast had been arrayed on top of them. There were many chicken-like creatures that had been prepared, and they smelled deliciously like their earthen counterparts. There were also vegetables, bread, and several kinds of soups. My stomach growled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten in nearly two days. I was fucking hungry.

The festivities seemed to redouble in energy when I joined in. Something about having a figure of legend partying with them made these consorts go a little wild. I guess it would be like if Zeus suddenly showed up at a house party somewhere in Ancient Greece—the people would lose their shit.

"Knight!" a consort called over to me from one of the casks of wine. The cobra filled a leather wineskin with…well, I don't really need to tell you. I mean, it's called a wineskin for a reason. The consort filled it up and send it flying over to me.

I snatched the wineskin out of the air and nodded to the consort in thanks. I then took a quick sip of the wine, getting a feel for its taste. To my surprise, it was sweet to the taste. Yeah, it had that light harshness that all alcoholic beverages had, but I was able to drink it without feeling like my throat was on fire.

I'm not really an alcohol guy, if you haven't noticed. I mean, I enjoy getting drunk as much as the next teenager, but after several…experiences while under the influence of alcohol… I just prefer weed. Weed makes me think, alcohol makes me stupid. Still, though, a party was a party, and I sure as hell wasn't going to come out the other end of this sober.

I took another gulp of wine and joined in the dancing. A lot of these cobra people were going pretty wild—I already described how they danced, using their entire bodies…it almost looked like they were tying themselves into knots, but this never actually happened. I couldn't exactly dance like that, so I just kind of winged it.

I forced myself to learn how to shuffle a while ago, and I learned how to Charleston for this one musical I was in, last summer, and what I ended up doing tonight was some sort of combination of these two dances. I think the main reason why so many of the consorts watched me go crazy was less because of how good I was—because, take it from me, I'm a pretty piss-poor dancer—and more because it was fascinating for them, a race of limbless cobras, to watch someone dance using arms and legs.

I'm not quite sure how long this phase of the little 'Welcome to LORAR' party lasted—I had a nice buzz off the wine by the time the music died down. I wasn't drunk, or even completely buzzed, yet, but I was well on my way. The world seemed a bit more vibrant, and I found it was a lot easier to smile and laugh like I'd done when I was younger. At least, when my Sis wasn't trying to carve me into pieces…

And speaking of my Sis, where the hell had she gotten to? She'd vanished shortly after our house had been whisked away into the game session, and I hadn't seen her since. I hoped she was alright…knowing my Sis, she probably was, but still…

I stumbled to a stop as the music faded away, and the musicians put away their instruments. Each clan had brought an elder to the Trial of Legends, and these twelve elders gathered now in a circle around the council fire. All of the consorts gradually filled the space around the council fire as the elder from Clan Nathair—which I was beginning to see was the most powerful of the Western Fires—coiled up to a rest on a flat, red rock, at the prime seat around the fire.

As I moved to take my own seat, Burning Dusk intercepted me and brought me up to the very front of the seats, closest to the elders around the council fire. After I sat down, the elder from Clan Nathair began to speak.

"Ssince the timess of the earliesst ssongss, the Sstory of the Knight hass been kept alive by the elderss of our clanss, passed down from generation to generation. It withsstood tidess of time, and even the conquesst of Hyperion, when the written form of our language wass losst…"

I sat perfectly still as the Clan Nathair elder recounted a lengthy story. To my mild surprise, the story was actually very interesting. Or maybe it was just the elder—Falling Sun, I think his name was—and his skill at storytelling.

I was also a little bit surprised at the simplicity of the elder's story; he was telling it like a father might tell a child a bedtime story. There wasn't any fancy verse, or any kind of poetic structure to the story at all. It was just that—a story.

The elder spoke of the civilization of the consorts in ages past, of the First Fires—the three great clans of ancient times, of how they were raised to heightened sentience by the Old One. I'm not entirely sure who this 'Old One' was, but I'd have to wait until later to ask someone—I got the feeling that it'd be rude to interrupt.

We were a simple people once, living in the three clans of the Great Fires—the peoples of the Forest, the Plains, and the Sands. Our lives were simple, our thoughts were simple…our very minds were simple.

This was the Age of Legends, the time of the First Stories. A time before even the arrival of Hyperion.

We were raised up by the Old One—a maiden, She Who Walks Tall, with eyes of deepest red. Sent down to us by the Great Sky Flame, the Old One gave us the gift of knowledge, and the power of Force, of the energies that drive all things. Our minds were ascended, our senses sharpened. We were capable of thoughts and emotions and actions that had previously been unknown to us, in our limited perceptions…in our simplicity.

The Old One was given visions, glimpses into the past, the present, and the future by the Great Sky Flame, and she gifted them in turn to our elders. They foretold a great purpose that our very world would one day help fulfill. A great creation. A Garden in the Eternal Darkness.

They foretold the arrival of Hyperion, and the sundering of our rivers. They foretold the sorrows and darkness that descended upon our peoples. The arrival of the underling swarms.

Even now, we—the Clans of the Western Fires, descendants of the Old Peoples of the Forests—are the only peoples who remain unburdened by the yoke of Hyperion's conquest.

The Old One was sent by the Great Sky Flame to prepare our world for its purpose, but she would not be the one to fulfill it. She would not live to see the seeds of her labor come to fruition. But the Old One also foretold the coming of the one who would—of a great Hero, known only as the Knight.

The Knight is He who will fulfill our world's purpose, who will finish what the Old One started.

The Knight will come to us through a rain of fire and the breaking of glass, and he will become greater than any who ever walked these lands before him, until even the mighty Denizen stands as his equal.

With his power, the Knight will return balance and order to our lands. He will face the mighty Denizen, and he will light the Fire of our world.

And until the Knight comes, we, the People Who Wait, will await his arrival.

"…and sso, our wait iss concluded. No longer are we the People Who Wait. The Knight walkss among uss, as the Old One did before him. Now, we assume the role of Conssortss to the Hero of Force, to sserve and follow him until he fulfillss the desstiny the Great Sky Flame hass laid out for uss all."

I shook my head, blinking several times, realizing that I'd zoned out for almost the entire story…yet I still remembered everything the elder had said. I swore under my breath.

It had happened again. I'd started having all kinds of thoughts that were not mine… And yet…and yet, it had still been different, somehow, from when I'd had foreign thoughts on the walk to the Forbidden River, or earlier when I'd come down from the Knight's Ladder. During those occasions, it had felt like someone broke into my mind and hijacked it, filling it with thoughts that were not my own.

This time, though…the thoughts still had not been my own, but they were much more subtle. I actually believed I was listening to the elder, but I'd only been thinking the exact same thing Falling Sun had been saying… Almost like glancing at a book you've never seen before and suddenly being able to already know what it said, even as you started reading.

I shook my head once more and took a deep breath, forcing myself to come back to reality.

"That was shorter than I expected," I murmured to Burning Dusk.

Burning Dusk tasted the air, giving a hiss of what sounded like amusement. "Our Sstoriess have ssurvived the agess and the conquesst of Hyperion because of their messagess, not their length. Would the Sstory be any different, had it been many hourss long?"

"Well… I guess not," I shrugged, cracking a faint grin. "Call it a very pleasant surprise. Let's just say that I don't like sitting still for too long."

"Nor I," the chieftain of Clan Nathair grunted as all the gathered consorts left the council fire and resumed the festivities. "But it iss tradition to tell the Sstory of the Knight at every Trial of Legendss. Fortunately, thiss iss not our only tradition. Come, take your place at the fire—the celebrationss continue."

As I joined Burning Dusk around the fire with the elders and several other consorts—the leaders of the other clans, I assumed—Falling Sun produced a long wooden pipe from his bag. He took a minute to pack some sort of plant material that looked like tobacco into the bowl. It was fascinating to watch the consorts perform everyday tasks such as this—they went about their lives almost exactly like humans would…only they use their minds instead of hands. Their telekinesis was not simply the ability to push objects through the air like cheap magicians; it was a way of life. I watched Falling Sun pack the bowl of his pipe, as meticulously as if he was an old English gentleman with fingers, and I couldn't help but wonder how I would ever be able to use my Aspect with that level of ease and precision.

But I only wondered for a split-second, because Falling Sun sent the wooden pipe hovering over to me when he was finished.

"You guys smoke, too?" I asked, accepting the pipe, feeling the smooth, carved wood.

"Only the elderss and the clan chiefss, and those whom we allow, are permitted to ssmoke from the clan pipe," Burning Dusk replied. "And we only ssmoke from it on the ssolsticess and during council firess."

"And I'm one of those lucky ones who you're allowing," I remarked, taking a moment to sniff the contents of the pipe's bowl. I wasn't quite sure what the tobacco smelled like—if it was tobacco, that is. It almost reminded me of Black Cavendish, only with a slightly sweeter scent…almost like a cross between Cavendish and an aromatic…something basic. Caramel, perhaps. If that makes sense.

Oh, hell, chances are you don't smoke pipe tobacco, so this probably doesn't make sense.

"You are the Knight," Burning Dusk declared. "You hardly need permission."

"Heh… Perks of being a figure of legend, and all that," I snickered, raising the pipe to my mouth. I then remembered a fundamental part of smoking that was missing. I glanced up, blinking once, seeing that everyone around the fire was staring at me. "Uh… Anyone, uh… Anyone got a light?"

"Pardon?"

"I need something to light this," I explained. "I left my lighter in my house."

"I will light it for you," Burning Dusk understood what I was getting at. As he glanced at the pipe, a small mote of flame appeared over the bowl. "Inhale deeply and gently."

I then remembered the power I'd displayed over fire, back on my rooftop. I'd somehow conjured fire and completely wrecked that one ogre's shit. My consorts obviously shared my telekinesis—it only made sense that they shared my power over fire, as well.

As the flame flickered into existence over the pipe's bowl, I placed my mouth on the mouthpiece and drew firmly from the pipe.

Now, I enjoyed drinking as much as the next guy, but I would choose smoking over alcohol in a heartbeat. There are many who would disagree, but for me there really wasn't any contest. If I was supposed to inhale it, then it obviously was not pipe tobacco. No matter, though; I've been smoking for years, now, and I've learned to handle my shit.

I was back in my comfort zone. Time to show these cobra-people how a real person smokes-

"Oh, FUCK!" I barely had time to turn away from the pipe before I started coughing fire. I mean, no, I wasn't actually coughing out fire—just a metric fuck-ton of smoke—but it sure felt like someone had dropped napalm in my lungs and throat. I coughed and heaved until it felt like I'd have to use a ramrod to shove my insides back down my throat.

I passed the pipe over to Burning Dusk before I dropped it, slamming my fist down onto my knee several times, tears streaming from my eyes.

I still remember the first time I ever smoked. I was twelve at the time, in the seventh grade, and it was my fifth or sixth time hanging out at Cruz's house. We'd both met each other in our dreams—on Prospit, to be precise, though I wouldn't really know much about Prospit until I began High School and started remembering more and more of my dreams on the golden moon. So we went to explore the Frog Temple ruins in the lake, and Cruz asked me if I wanted to smoke with him, and I said yeah, so he whipped up a bowl of some pretty dank weed and a bit of changa—don't ask me how the hell he managed to get shit like that in Middle School.

He explained to me how a glass bowl worked and how to use it, did a quick demonstration, then gave me the lighter and told me to have at it. And when I inhaled, I was fine at first until the shit sneaked up on me about two-thirds of the way into my breath. I ended up blowing out the bowl—I still cringe when I think about that—and coughing my ass off for God knows how long. I didn't fully get my voice back for ten or fifteen minutes.

That had been like a tickle in my throat compared to what I was going through now.

Finally, I got my coughing under control and rested back on my elbows, taking deep, slow breaths.

The elders and the clan chiefs were looking at me with some measure of amusement. I know they were probably laughing their asses off at the fact that the one who was supposed to be able to challenge this 'Hyperion' character couldn't even handle a single hit of their shit.

Yeah, hardy-fucking-har.

Dancing Shadow, the orange-scaled chieftain of Clan Niivea, who was sitting to my right, offered me the pipe. "Again, Knight?" the thick-set cobra asked, his straight tone just barely managing to mask the laughter that was simmering within him.

I took the pipe, plucking it from the air and holding it to my mouth warily. I grunted over to Burning Dusk, and the chieftain of Clan Nathair lit me up. I was much more cautious now than I'd been before. I drew on the pipe gently, this time. I was surprised to find that the…whatever it was…it actually had a very sweet flavor that lingered on the tongue for a short while. Before I knew it, I'd taken a full breath.

I passed the pipe on to Burning Dusk and released my breath, letting the smoke stream out into the air and join the smoke of the council fire.

Two hits of this mystery cobra-weed was enough for me. I know, you're probably thinking 'Only two hits? What a pussy!' Yeah, well, you haven't smoked this shit. I have. Go fuck yourself.

Thankfully, the bowl was finished by the time the second circuit was complete, and we all gazed silently into the flames of the council fire. Well, most of us were silent…

"Whew, those are some powerful-ass herbs you got there," I said to Burning Dusk, noticing that I was starting to grin without knowing it. The world around me, even though it was nighttime, was already looking vibrantly colorful. "How can you smoke that on a regular basis? Felt like my lungs were on fire…"

"We call it Knightsweed," Burning Dusk replied. "It iss grown by Clan Ashei, in the Shadowed Foresst. It certainly hass a bite to it, but we quickly grow accusstomed to it…why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing," I immediately answered before I realized that I was laughing. Quite loudly, in fact. I bit the insides of my cheeks and got myself back under control.

Barely five minutes after taking two hits, and I was already laughing my ass off over nothing. Yeah, this was going to be an interesting night.

"You call this stuff Knightsweed?" I finally managed to ask the clan chief when I got my laughter under control. "Like…like, you actually call it that? Knightsweed?"

"Yess…" Burning Dusk replied hesitantly, unsure of what was going through my mind. "Thiss iss what iss amusing to you?"

"I mean, it's just so…so fuckin' awesome, you know? The most powerful weed I've ever smoked is actually named for me!" I started chuckling again. "Knightsweed, Knight's Ladder, Knight's Mountains—you really like naming shit for me, don't you guys?"

"Your people do not name anything after figuress of legend?"

"Well, yeah we do, we just like to mix it up!" I said. "We don't name all our shit after the same fuckin' guy, man, come on! We like to mix it up! Like, lime-in-the-coconut, mix it all up! Fuck, wait…wait, no, it's lime-in-the-coconut, drink 'em both up… Shit, I always mix it up… Wait…" And before I knew it, I found myself ass-deep in another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I wheezed, wiping the tears from my eyes. "What the fuck was I just talking about?"

Burning Dusk was really starting to look confused, by now. "…I believe you were talking about fruit, and-"

"Right!" I crowed, snapping my fingers several times. "Right, yeah, like limes and coconuts, and…and, uh… Um… Oh fuck it, it's gone," I shrugged, losing my train of thought once more. "Man, I wish I had my ipod on me; I could really go for some Gogol Bordello right now… What about you, what music do you guys listen to? Wait, fuck, never mind—you guys don't have ipods. You guys are cobras without ipods."

"Knight, are you feeling unwell?"

"What?" I blinked. "Oh, no, I'm just high as fuck right now—nothin' to worry your scaly self over!"

It was Burning Dusk's turn to blink. "You are what, right now?"

"High," I answered. It then occurred to me that these people probably had their own name for being high, so I tried to explain. "It's what we call that feeling we get after we smoke. You know, colors start popping out, music sounds fuckin' amazing, movies can blow your mind…though I don't think you'd know much about that… Uh… I mean, it feels like you're floating when you get really fucked up, and… Wow, this is actually really hard to explain… You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you," I sighed, seeing Burning Dusk's blank stare. "Don't you feel all weird after smoking this shit?"

"Knightsweed can give a slightly soothing sensation about the head after it iss ssmoked, but nothing more," Burning Dusk replied, still looking at me like I had three heads.

"You mean… You… You guys really don't get high off this?" I could scarcely believe what I was hearing.

"I do not know what that meanss," Burning Dusk.

I cleared my throat and closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, focusing as hard as I could to put a few coherent thoughts together before I floated back up into the clouds. "Okay… Uh… Obviously the weed has no effect on you, but when it is burned it releases a special smoke that gets into your blood through your lungs and travels up to your brain and makes you all loopy," I spoke fast, the words tumbling out all in one breath. It was the best way I could really explain it in my current state of mind without using words like 'chemical', 'THC', or anything else that these consorts would not be familiar with. And even so, I think I just confused them even more. I decided to try again. "Knightsweed does things to my mind that it doesn't do to yours."

But I had a really hard time caring. And after a few more minutes of chilling at the council fire, there was something else that I had.

Munchies.

I excused myself and rose to my feet, staggering away from the council fire and joining the fray of revelers who were still getting their party on all throughout the open, middle section of the giant camp on the shore of the Forbidden River.

The next few hours were…well, they were kind of a blur. While I may have confused the hell out of the elders and clan chiefs at the council fire, I had a fucking ball with everyone else. These were the normal guys and girls, the common members of the various clans who had accompanied their leaders to the Forbidden River, hearing tales of a Trial taking place. And many of them were already drunk off of the wine that had been going around all night.

I remember eating several different kinds of meat, as well as completely demolishing an entire pot of stew. I don't know what they put in the stuff, what kind of herbs and seasonings, but it was good! I started eating another bowl of soup after finishing that first pot, but I was then distracted by the music.

There were several consorts who were weaving a rousing tune with drums, pipes, and various percussion instruments, and many of their fellows were twisting in rhythm, moving about in an almost hypnotic dance. By then, I was past the clouds and in outer space—I still don't remember very much of what happened; mostly flashes.

I remember singing Party Rock at the top of my lungs—even all the parts that didn't have words—and shuffling on one of the stone tables. I may have even managed to shoot fire from one of my fingers, at some point. I also remember teaching several of the more intoxicated consorts how to do the worm; they were able to do it much better than I ever could—a side-effect of being a snake, I suppose.

I then remember stumbling behind one of the teepees and heaving my stomach out onto the grass, trying my hardest to avoid splattering my feet. I'd eaten a lot, and all the moving around I'd been doing hadn't exactly helped all that food stay where it was.

Eventually, the music faded away and the festivities died down. I wasn't sure how much longer it would be until dawn, but we had to have been up all night. At least, it felt like it'd been all night…

I was starting to come back down as I trudged back into my teepee. I grabbed what remained of my shirt and pulled it back on, yawning as I threw myself down onto my blanket. I was out cold barely ten seconds after I laid down my head.

I didn't even get to dream on Prospit, tonight, because it felt like I'd just closed my eyes when they suddenly flew back open. I could hear sounds coming from outside; loud, distracting sounds…but they were not the same sounds of earlier, the sounds of a wild celebration. I heard screams, whooshing bursts of flame, animalistic growls and roars, and clanging metal.

There was a battle going on outside.