(9) The Fellowship Of The Undead Law
(Lines in bold (but without *'s) are taken &/or paraphrased from Season 4, Episode 3 "The Final Problem" & not mine. Tense may be changed or a part redacted by ... . {Example: "Christmas" is removed since it does not exist at this time.} or a word changed {Example: "bewitches" is a more suitable word for this era instead of "reprogramming"}.
The desolate island mentioned here is from this episode, but will remain unnamed for now until the times have caught up. The three brothers being held prisoner here are also from this episode.
Finally, the burning house scene is taken & paraphrased from this same episode. The difference is, here Eurus is much older & did this by accident, whereas in "The Final Problem", she was around five years old & burned Musgrave down on purpose.)
The four of them sat together in silence, apart from Eurus who was still softly crying. The night wore on but no one had moved for a while. The house remained dark & broken down while everyone remained still for several hours.
Close to midnight, Mycroft eventually stood up. He moved towards the broken door pieces & stood in the entrance for a short time, looking out into the night. "I truly am sorry about Elizabet & the children," he finally spoke. "I didn't want any of this."
Sherlock's answer was closing his eyes, feeling a few tears run down his face. No one saw them in the darkness, but he felt them as surely as he felt the loss of his once living family. He opened his eyes again as he heard someone else get up. Two candles made of honeycomb were suddenly lit & placed on the table with Eurus standing over them.
As the tiny lights flickered their feeble glows over the table, sending a sweetness into the air, Sherlock finally asked, "Why are you here, Mikró? I highly doubt Theós or Eurus told you."
Silence hung in the air, broken occasionally by a sniffle from Eurus. Mycroft stared out into the snow, the moon shining down, casting its silvery light. A few low embers still flickered over Nýchta's crisp bones. "There was some talk on the trails," he began slowly. "A horse pulling a flat cart filled with tiny coffins somewhere up here in this area." He leaned against the door frame, still looking outside. "I knew there weren't many people up here apart from you, Elizabet & the children. I flew in & saw Theós & Eurus on the high trail coming up here. It all but confirmed my fears."
Sherlock leaned onto the table, fingers rubbing his nose. "I brought them all here. I buried them. Our parents are buried here. Our Uncle. Several of our ancestors are also here. I figured to put all the dead together in a place few come to so no one will disturb them."
"I am sorry," Mycroft murmured.
"Sorry? Again?" Sherrinford leaned back in his chair as he turned red gleaming eyes at Mycroft still standing in the doorway. "You killed this entire family," he said.
"I didn't kill our parents," Mycroft defended, turning to face him. "Or Elizabet or the children!"
"No, but you destroyed this whole family by attacking us," Sherrinford said. "Our only hope to continue were Xanthá's children, but now they are all dead & none of us are capable of creating future generations."
For Sherlock's sake, Mycroft forever wished he could retract his next words, but Sherrinford had struck a nerve. It drove him mad. "You do realize that had I been allowed to continue without knowing about not turning children ... without interference ... THEY WOULD STILL BE WITH US?!"
"Mikró!" Eurus yelped as Sherlock stood up quickly & punched the table so hard it cracked. The two candles slid closer together into the dented center.
"All I wanted was to save us, protect us," Mycroft ignored her as he looked at Sherlock. "That's all I wanted ..."
Sherrinford stood up, still glaring at Mycroft. "The three of us are all that is left of this family!"
"Three," Mycroft muttered. They still weren't accepting him back & he was beginning to wonder if they ever will. But Sherrinford was right. There was no one left alive & if something happened to those now beyond the Reaper's grasp, the family would cease to exist entirely. Mycroft shook his head before stepping out into the cold night. He headed for the barn.
Those left behind in the house ended up in Sherlock's room with him. Eurus brought the candles with them & set them in the fire pit, lighting it up. Not that anyone needed the heat anymore as it would take ages for them to feel even the slightest hint of cold, but the large dancing flames attempted to drive out the darkness that had settled over them, not just of the night but of life & death.
They crowded together on the bed like a pile of kittens trying to share the same spot. It was nearly dawn before they moved again. Eurus was the first to get up. She looked into the fire pit where a few flames still crackled on the last log before picking up her coat & heading for the door.
As she turned towards the door, swinging the coat with her to drape over her arm, the hem of dry fur suddenly lit up, along with the rest of the garment, scorching some of her skin off. With a scream, Eurus threw it away out the door into the hall. Her healing power fixed up the burns rather quickly, but she forever knew the sensation of heat her parents suffered & that had scared her more than the burning coat.
Her two brothers sat up at her yell just in time to see the entire hall come to life in a blaze. Eurus froze, staring into the inferno she had just started, her eyes wide with fear.
"EURUS!" Sherlock shouted at her through the smoke. "Eurus, MOVE! NOW!" She didn't. Not on her own. Sherlock had to physically slam into her to get her to move.
"We have to go through it," Sherrinford said. "We've just got to jump through the hall. Hurry before it all goes!" He shoved both younger ones forward & right, flipping them into the living room where the fire had yet to reach. Flames followed a moment later. Sherrinford hissed at them as he backed up, using his wings that were partly open to shield Sherlock & Eurus behind him. "Quickly now. Get to the door!"
But the fire latched onto every dry thing in the house. The furniture. The dirt floor. The wooden inlays & door frames. By now, it was racing around the main doorway & burning the two broken door panels. Choking on the smoke, Sherrinford tried to push the other two forwards but even he was envisioning the moment his parents lit up with this hell. Though they could heal & it was only a short jump to get outside, the memory of that other night incapacitated them.
Mycroft came out of the barn to a rather strange sight. He blinked hard, staring at the brilliant orange light. He could see the main shape of the house within the flames. The stone walls that would not burn outlined the place, but the timber burned quickly in this dry cold. The pillars of stone standing dark among the flames brought up vivid memories of two stakes dark in the fires of his parents. He turned away, closing his eyes for a moment. But his vampric hearing picked up the sounds of the other three yelling at each other to go forward. They were still inside! Mycroft surged forwards, wings open & hissing frantically as parts of the building collapsed, trapping the others inside.
Using his wings, Mycroft swept forward large drifts of snow to throw against the front porch. The fire that was touched by the snow fizzled out. Mycroft reached in to pull the blackened wood apart. It exploded in his hands, sending out a shower of sparks. He fell back to roll in the snow before standing up to sweep another drift of icy white forward. He couldn't see much since the dawn was dim with heavy cloud & flakes were beginning to fall & the smoke pouring out didn't help.
He put a hand in through the broken door, grabbed one of them & yanked hard. Sherlock came out, flipping over beyond Mycroft as he was released & landed in the snow a short distance away. Eurus came running out a moment later, pushing Mycroft sideways as she fled towards the barn. Mycroft hesitated before stepping inside to find Sherrinford trapped under a stone pillar that had fallen onto his wings.
"This is going to hurt," Mycroft said, not exactly caring. It wouldn't hurt nearly as much as the beating he had received, but he decided he would enjoy this. Ignoring Sherrinford's angry hiss, Mycroft shoved the stone pillar sideways, scrapping it off the fiery wing, tearing it. Sherrinford all but screamed at him in pain. "Get out!" Mycroft ordered, hauling Sherrinford to his feet & dragging him outside. "Put your wings away, you fool!"
They tipped outside into the snow & rolled away as the flames moved forward once more, having melted away the snow Mycroft had thrown on it. The three of them stood up to watch the fire burn everything inside.
As the dull dawn grew brighter, the fire slowly dwindled & died, leaving behind nothing but the bare stone bones of the place. It had nowhere to go for the deep snow hindered any spread, but the house itself was basically lost. It was fixable. It was able to be rebuilt. It would be a lot of work.
Would it be even worth the fuss?
The timbers groaned. Winter wind softly moaned. A charred log fell, splitting apart as a few pieces scattered over the ground. The three of them just stared, unblinking, at the home their parents & Uncle had built up. Just when they thought they had lost everything, this had happened & now, they truly had lost ... everything.
"Where's Eurus?" Mycroft finally managed to ask in a cracked voice. Another charred log fell to the floor inside, taking part of the roof with it.
A quick glance around told them she was not with them. The falling snow was already thick enough to start covering tracks as they spread out to look for her. Sherlock focused hard on the path leading from the burned out porch & found faint prints heading in the direction of the barn. He hurried along the ghostly trail.
Sherlock found her, cowering in the corner of the barn, face buried into her knees drawn up to her chest. He knelt in front of her & put a hand out to touch her long hair. "Eurus?" She jumped a little at his touch but kept herself curled up. "Eurus," Sherlock tried again. "The fire is done. We're all fine. Even Mikró. It's just a house. We can rebuild."
"Rebuild?" Eurus gasped, raising her face to look into his deep blue eyes. She blinked out more tears. "Rebuild what, Xanthá? Wh-What could we-we possibly rebuild?"
"The house," Sherlock tried again.
"The house," Eurus snapped. "Our lives are completely destroyed. Our parents were murdered right in front of us. We were killed by our own brother! Elizabet is gone. The children are gone! You killed my horse right in front of me! All I had left was that house & now it's gone too!" She buried her face into her knees again, sobbing.
"Nýchta was suffering," Sherlock said. "He had to be killed. You know that!"
"Y-Yes!" Eurus cried. "I know. I just ... all I wanted was a final moment with him. To say goodbye. You didn't have to be so fast about it. Just a moment! I would have killed him, myself. He was my horse!" She sniffled before going on. "I didn't even get to say goodbye or tell him he will be alright & he'll stop being in pain soon. I didn't get any of that. Now, I feel so lost. Like ... I have no one. It's all gone."
Sherlock put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm here, Eurus. Open your eyes, I'm here," he said, gently pulling her into a hug. "You're not lost anymore." He looked around, seeing Sherrinford & Mycroft standing in the gates. Not wanting to intrude on the strange bond between the little ones, they stepped back outside to wait until Eurus calmed down.
"Do you think you will rebuild it?" Mycroft asked after a few awkward moments of silence went by.
"I have to," Sherrinford said. "For her. You heard what she said. I'll rebuild the house someday." After another long silence, he asked, "What about you?"
Mycroft rubbed his nose with both hands. "I'll wait a bit, stay with Agápi for now. You will learn a lot from her about ... being the way we are now." He looked into the forest before adding. "I'll have to wait for this generation of villagers to move on, maybe even die out, but then I could set up a place somewhere in the lowlands."
"That would be acceptable," Sherrinford grumbled under breath.
Mycroft looked at him, wishing he could apologize again, knowing it would make him mad. He was beginning to realize that nothing he said or did would mend the bonds. The only thing he had on his side now was time. Lots & lots of time! He started to walk forward into the trees. "Good bye, brother mine." He spread his wings & took off into the sky as Sherrinford hissed at him for the use of the word 'brother'.
Sherlock emerged from the barn gates a few moments later, holding Eurus by the hand to lead her onward. His eyes flicked around before landing on Sherrinford. "Where's Mikró?"
"Gone back to the Lady," Sherrinford replied. He put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "We should go back to Merlin. Come with us, Xanthá, please? There is nothing here for you, now."
Sherlock looked towards the path going up the hill to where Elizabet lay with the children forevermore. "You're right," he finally said.
Sherrinford visibly relaxed. He brought the younger ones back to the witch doctor's village. They didn't leave for a while, not even to go to the Waldheri for Mycroft resided there with the Lady. They only tolerated him during meetings among those of their own kind. One such gathering was done to not only welcome in Sherrinford, Mycroft, Sherlock & Eurus, but also to offer condolences on the deaths of the rest of the family. The loss of Elizabet & the children hit the hardest & the wolves mourned for the rest of the season.
Since they had not shown their faces again in the villages, their sad tales had fallen into rumour as villagers in the lowlands talked among themselves about the unfortunate luck of the Prínos, the family that used to live among the holly trees.
As the days started to enter the coldest part of winter just before spring, the four of them had slowly settled into their strange new way of living. They had all gotten better at flying, with Eurus being perfect since her first try. By now, they could fly as high as eagles. It didn't matter if it was day or night for being that high, there were as dots in the sky for anyone watching from the ground. So long as they were careful where they took off from & landed again, flying was becoming a much more convenient form of travel.
Sherlock was currently gliding high into the clouds with Sherrinford. He glanced down at the ground far below, his enhanced sharp vision pulling in snow drifts as clearly as if he had been standing next to them. Sherrinford flitted next to him, hovering in one spot, as Sherlock looked up. "How high do you think we can go?"
"Let's find out," Sherrinford said, snapping his wings hard to push upwards. Sherlock soon followed as they climbed ever higher. They paused as the air felt thinner & they somehow started to feel ... lighter.
Looking down, both were rather alarmed at how high up they had gone. Not only the elevation was unimaginable but also the shape of the ground had changed. They stared at it for a long time, seeing a slight curve & even the edge of more land, what will eventually be known as the Americas, across the vast ocean.
"Theós," Sherlock whispered. "Is it really?"
They shared a look as Sherrinford replied in a low gasp. "Round. The Earth is ROUND! Not flat!"
"This is not normal!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"What part of our lives as of late have been normal?" Sherrinford all but snapped. "We are FLYING close to the hidden stars & now we see the ground we walk on has a large curve in it. Nothing will ever be normal again, Xanthá, nothing!" He looked down again to see someone else flying up towards them.
"What are you doing?" Johaiñe demanded as he caught up to them. "You are too high! If you go much farther, the sky will swallow you. We have lost others who have gone to the stars & never return. Come down. Now!"
"What do you mean, the sky swallows you?" Sherlock asked.
"Why do you think the birds do not go so high?" Johaiñe began. "Up here, there is a point of no return. If you go too high, you will lose the connection you have to below & you can not come back. I have seen it! Now please, come down."
The worry in the old man's voice was enough to make both of them follow him back down. Once on the ground, Sherlock asked, "Why is Earth round?"
"It's always been round."
"I thought it was flat," Sherlock insisted.
"Well, you thought wrong," Johaiñe said.
"What about that land across the water?" Sherrinford asked.
"That does not belong to us," answered Johaiñe.
"Are there other nations living in that place?" Sherrinford tried.
"Yes & we have more of our own kind & more wolves like ours who live there," Johaiñe said. "They mind their own business. We mind ours. If any contact is needed, I or the Lady or Merlin will go with his flying guide. Now," he went on with an air of changing the subject. "Don't you ever go so high again! Come with me. The Lady wants all four of you."
"Three," Sherrinford muttered under breath.
"Do we have to all be together?" Sherlock asked.
"It is quicker that way," Johaiñe insisted, leading the way without a backwards glance.
Sherrinford & Sherlock picked their coats off the fence & put them on before following. Though none who were dead technically needed such things anymore, they still had to keep up appearances for outsiders. They walked behind him for a long time, slipping occasionally on patches of ice & half-melted snow for the seasons of spring & winter were still at war with each other, with winter still winning.
The village became smaller in the distance as they climbed up the hills until suddenly, the Lady came into view. Mycroft stood next to her, keeping his eyes on her as the others came closer.
Sherlock shot a glare at his ex-brother before turning to her. "You wished to see us?"
"Yes," Agápi began. "Follow me."
She went into the air & headed towards the ocean. As the others caught up to her, she slowed to a stop & hovered over an island far below. "It is time you learned exactly where we get our drinks from."
"We already know," Sherlock said, flying close to her. "You take it only from the unworthy, not the innocent."
"Ever wonder where we keep the unworthy?" Agápi pointed out, to which Sherlock had nothing to say. "I thought as much," she went on. "They are kept in a place where our wolves can not go." She pointed below. "Down there."
Everyone looked to the island. The cliffs rose up several hundred feet. Waves crashed upon it. There was no way to the island except by air or perhaps a ship, but only one sandy area allowed anything remotely resembling a port. There was no way off, either. Jumping down its cliffs would be suicide for those alive. The place was a large solid rock jutting up out of the water. It would be hell to be trapped down there.
The Lady dived down, letting the others sort out who would follow who. They all landed on one side. Looking around, they could see several people here. There weren't that many but every last one of them had multiple scars & some even had recent wounds half healed over. At this end, there were rows of small shelters for the occupants, but only enough to hide from the weather & out here, storms seemed to rage more often than not. For today though, it was clear but clouded over, adding a cold feeling of helplessness to the place.
At the far end was a deep hole carved into the ground. Placed inside it were several stone vessels. A beam of wood was jammed between the confining walls of two large boulders leaning against each other at their tops. At the beam's center hung chains similar to the ones used to hold Siger & Violéta to their doom. Old blood splatter was evident here. No hut was built in this section. In fact, those living here avoided this part if at all possible. Several from the village were here as well, acting as guards, but they could fly away at any time. For the mortals, there was only one way off the island: either jump down to be dashed against the stones or be executed. Death was the end result, either way.
Sherrinford took in the scene of torment with a very slow look over the whole area before turning to the others. He accidentally locked eyes with Mycroft but both were more concerned with what they were seeing at the moment. Sherrinford turned back to the Lady. "So whenever we need more of the drink, you hang one here & kill them to get it?"
"Sometimes," Agápi admitted. "We only execute them when they are truly sorry enough for their crimes. Otherwise, as you can see, they are free to roam about the place & we simply cut open a wound to drain some of their red river. Some have been here for a while. An ever present source of the drink we so desperately need."
"You just ... slice them open?" Mycroft gasped, staring at her.
"Minor wounds," Agápi shrugged. "They heal. We take care of the wounds as Merlin has shown us to do. No one dies."
"Except when they are sorry enough," Sherrinford reiterated.
"Once they understand their crimes, why let them suffer?" Agápi said, looking at Sherlock. "There is no need for endless suffering. You know that, or do I need to ask how your prized stallion is doing?"
"He didn't do anything wrong," Sherlock said. "He was infected & in pain."
"In pain," Agápi repeated. "No need to suffer." She pushed the others to one side as Johaiñe brought one of the captives forward, entwined in his odd rope, using his rope for simply holding the captive in place. The old man handed the rope's free end over to her & stepped away, letting her showcase her prisoner to the new ones. "I've been watching this one. Caught him weeping a few times now over what he did." She pushed him towards the four of them. "Strip him down."
"What?" Mycroft & Sherlock gasped while Sherrinford looked the captive over. Eurus leaned back against one of the icy boulders, watching silently but in rapt attention.
"Remove his garments," Agápi said. "He is not going to need them in a few minutes."
"No," Mycroft stepped back.
"Oh, Choráfi," Agápi looked at him. "You are so much like me. I've never seen you hurt the innocent. You worry when one is in pain, yet at the same time, your hate for Míka & Drákoulas run as deep as it does like the rest of us. You can be as a gentle lamb yet just as easily be a killer without remorse, * just like that." She snapped her fingers.
"I only kill if I have to defend myself!" Mycroft gasped. Three loud groans could be heard.
"Oh really?" Agápi nodded to his three latest victims. "You already have killed three times without defending yourself & yet, that was supposedly an act of love in a desperate attempt to save them. This one here?" She yanked the rope, causing the prey to fall to its knees. "Took children from their homes & sold them at the ports. We have only found three of the many he took, two of which had been abused & killed by the ones who bought them. Still wish to spare him?"
The four of them regarded the hapless man & it was evident that they were mildly disgusted by his actions.
The Lady yanked the rope, causing the doomed man to stumble up to his feet. "I thought not," Agápi said, turning to her prize. "I have heard you in the nights, lamenting the children, as of late. You have even told me recently that you hated seeing their desperate mothers looking for them. Tell me, do you find yourself guilty?"
"I ... I will not do such things again," the man said, tears in his eyes.
"You are right," Agápi said. "You will not." At that, she pulled him close to her & stripped him naked, herself before throwing him towards the hole filled with stone vessels. As she started to put him in the chains, the man started begging.
"Please, just let me go!" He gasped through tears. "I said I won't do it again."
"As we have already agreed," Agápi began. "You won't. How many children have begged you to be spared?" She went on. "Now you know exactly how they feel. We have no further use to keep you. Your final sacrifice will quench the thirst of my kind for a while & save many mortals from our curse." She spread open her wings & thrust one forward, piercing his right side right up under the ribs with a sharp point.
Sherrinford & Sherlock quickly turned away as the man screamed. Eurus was gaping at the sight while Mycroft kept his eyes on the slate wings until they disappeared into her. He had seen her slay the undead fiends without a second thought. But this had been a living human she had just killed with the exact same lack of feeling. Yes the man was detestable. But did it really have to be this way?
Yes, it did. The alternative was having all of them drop into the villages of the living for a feeding frenzy like Dracula. This way however, the death of the one outweighed the lives of the many.
"You have to pierce the right side, not the left," Agápi explained. "It is even faster using the left side, but the red river is better when drained while still alive."
The real science of it was still unknown, but things produced during mass hysteria & death, called hormones, were actually responsible for the unique taste of such fresh blood.
The dying victim still sobbed & twitched as he hung there by cut wrists as his weight pulled on the chain, bleeding out. His swaying body eventually deposited blood in all the vessels underneath him. He slowly gurgled out his dying breaths & soon hung still. When he was dead, she took him down.
"Now we throw him into the ocean," Agápi said. "The great fish there with teeth as sharp as ours will eat him." She shot a glare at the four of them. "Do not ever let any wolf touch the blood or the corpse. We will have to kill that one if they get a taste. It makes them go mad & become a danger to all. That's why we keep the condemned out here on this desolate island."
They remained quiet, still shocked at how much had to change to even be undead. The body was wrapped in a hide & taken away to the sparkling ocean to be deposited. Fins appeared through the water moments later & in a few short chomps, the kidnapper was no more, in any state.
"What about us?" Sherrinford asked, wishing he knew how to turn his eyes away from the sharks snapping at their food. "Do we eat these people as well?"
"There is no need to eat them," Agápi answered. "We need only the red drink." She put a hand on Sherrinford's shoulder & pulled him away from the edge above the red stain in the ocean swirling with sharks.
All four of them continued to join the Lady when it was time for another execution. They had to get used to the brutality & worse, someday, they would have to partake of it. None of them wanted to start attacking villages filled with innocent strangers. They had only killed all but two responsible for murdering their parents, but destroying Dracula & Micah was another headache for another time. But those people had been guilty & deserving of their punishment.
On the third visit to the death trap, the Lady let the four of them wander through the place, mingling with the occupants who shrank away from them. They passed one who was chained down, a massive wound bleeding from his arm. Two of the undead from the witch doctor's village were with him, making sure he wouldn't die while they collected a bit of his blood.
"What did he do?" Eurus asked.
"Killed his mother over bread," Agápi answered. "Then denied it."
"Can I kill him? Please?" Eurus asked quickly, missing her own mother all of a sudden.
"Eurus, enough!" Mycroft ordered as Sherrinford & Sherlock stared at her.
"Perhaps some other time," Agápi said. Mycroft was glaring at her, but she met his gaze without flinching. "I don't like it any more than you do, Choráfi. If you have a better alternative to protect the innocent villages, then please, speak it now."
As it was, Mycroft remained quiet.
Slightly frustrated with him, the Lady rolled her eyes & moved past him. She suddenly grabbed someone by the hair, yanking him forward & to his knees in front of her. "Your sister is doing much better without you around," she began. "I watch over her."
His lips barely moved as he whispered 'thank you' to her, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
Agápi cocked her head a little, regarding him, before petting his cheek with a finger, picking up the tear. Her eyes flashed red. "What is this, now?"
Uh oh. He had shown remorse in front of her. He lifted fearful eyes to look at her. "Please ... " he drew in a shuddering breath. "Can ... Can I see her one last time?"
"She already thinks you're dead & you know you're not getting out of here alive," Agápi said. "So no, you can't. I think your time has come, hasn't it?" The man began shaking, his eyes darting to the end of the island where ... "I know it hurts. I am truly sorry for it," Agápi said, casting a sorrowful gaze over him. "But it does not last long & then, you will no longer care." In a flash, she had moved forward, wrapping mithril rope around him to drag him away.
"What was his crime?" Mycroft asked.
"He raped his sister," Agápi replied, noticing the sharp gasp & sudden hard look come across Mycroft. Could it be? "Repeatedly, many times. I walked in on him & that was his last time."
She continued to haul the rapist forward as he started to kick & scream more & more as they drew closer to the killing spot. Here, she paused for a long moment, ignoring the whimpers of her next kill. Hers? Or perhaps ... his? She turned to him, a few tears in her own eyes. She tossed the end of the rope over.
Mycroft caught it.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock gasped.
"What do you care? I'm not your brother any more, remember?" Mycroft muttered, before turning to the three of them. "But that doesn't even matter. We all have to learn to hunt again, but our prey is different now. It's either this, or join ... them." He couldn't look any of them in the eye as his mind wandered to when he had been turned. Getting bitten & poisoned wasn't the only thing that happened there. Mycroft had never told anyone, not even them, of the sexual humiliation he had gone through. He realized suddenly, that he had not been with another man since then. Only ever the Lady. It wasn't much that Micah had done to him, but it was enough to turn him off his own for the time being. He pulled off his coat with his free hand, exposing his back. His onyx wings came out a moment later & for the first time, he barely noticed the pain of it, letting out only a sharp hiss before turning to his prey.
Ignoring the pleadings, Mycroft stripped him. The man lay on the ground, knowing that when he stood up he would never lie down again. Mycroft glared red down at him, stepping forward to place one foot on the man's privates. He pressed down hard. "How many times have you made your sister cry?" He demanded, somehow, enjoying the yell. He reached down & yanked the man up by his hair. Leaning close to his ear, he whispered, "I used to have a sister I had to protect from the likes of you. I am going to enjoy this!" He shoved him forward & strung the desperate man up. Feeling a hand on his wing, he glanced back to find her watching him.
"Don't make it any worse than it has to be, Choráfi," she warned, turning away. "Do it quickly."
Had it been anyone else, Mycroft would have ignored the request. He looked at the man hanging by his wrists, twisting about as if trying to get away, like that would save him from the lance-like blow of a wing point. He nodded once to her before thrusting forward. He growled softly, exposing fangs as the man screamed, feeling the lance go up his right side. Mycroft left it in there just a moment longer than she would have before pulling away, ripping a deep gash along the side. He closed his wings as he watched this wretched thing die, thinking not of Eurus but again of the night of his own death.
By the time they had returned to the village with filled vessels of blood, Mycroft had lost sight of Sherrinford, Sherlock & Eurus. They wanted nothing to do with him now that he had just brutally killed someone who had not wronged them personally in any way. But it was only a matter of time before they would give in & learn to do the same.
He followed the Lady back to the Waldheri valley where they sat on a pile of hides spread out in the snow in front of one of the dens while Johaiñe regaled the young pups of stories about small people living in round holes, just like they did & big fire breathing creatures.
Mycroft took a sip of blood as the Lady came to sit beside him, carrying a few garments over one arm. He looked into the stone vessel filled with the red liquid. "Why can't we just drink from each other?"
"It doesn't work," Agápi answered, laying her things aside & taking up some leather straps. "We've tried, but our own red rivers taste foul. Perhaps it is because we are dead. We need fresh red rivers from the living." She began tying together rips in the sides of one of her coats. "Some day, perhaps we can design something to wear that will accommodate our wings."
Mycroft was mildly amused by that before remembering his own torn things that he would have to fix, frequently. "Wings do present a bit of a problem," he admitted before adding, "Animals are alive." He recalled how his own blood had tasted when he had tried to drink from himself the night he had been bitten. The blood in his cup however, had a sweet taste to it.
"But we are not animals & they can not return from death like we do. It affects humanity only," she said, cutting off a piece of leather tie with a small slate-grey dagger before turning it all around to start working on the other side. "It is of our own kind that we need this drink from." She looked up from her work, putting a hand on Mycroft's cheek to make him look at her. "We've tried many ages ago. There is no other way."
Mycroft pulled away from her touch & had some more of his drink. He listened to the story about the great animal with breath like fire for a while before saying, "He has such visions, doesn't he?"
"This isn't even the half of it," she laughed softly as Johaiñe roared madly at the pups, spreading his long rose-gold wings for a moment, acting as if he was this huge fire breathing creature he was talking about. The pups screamed but pressed closer for more. "He's always adding stuff to this story. He even writes languages for it but hasn't put those into the stories yet. Says they aren't ready."
"This is why he makes up languages?" Mycroft raised a brow in surprise, earning a soft laugh.
Agápi finished off fixing her other clothes while Johaiñe continued his tales. She eventually sat back against a large rock as Mycroft lay across the hides to listen, his head in her lap. She toyed with a few locks of his hair.
Mycroft watched Tobias & his sister scuffle about in a snowdrift. "Why do they hate each other so much?"
"They don't," Agápi said, stroking one finger across his brow. "They are the first born set & so both think they are the Alpha. Wolves vie for ranks all the time. Sometimes, he will win. Sometimes, she will. That's why they don't get along too well. But they don't hate each other." She stopped caressing him. "Tobias certainly does not want her dead."
Mycroft resisted every last urge to roll his eyes as he pretended not to understand the jibe of the time he & his three siblings had tried to hunt these wolves. He listened silently to Johaiñe's story as the two wolves growled low at each other off to the side & soon, he felt the soothing touch of the Lady's fingers once more.
Tobias eventually stood up & marched away, hands as fists by his hips. He had lost this round, for sure.
"Well, it's time for you all to go to bed," Johaiñe finally said over an hour later & the pups groaned. "Come on. Off with you now. You don't want the fiery beast under the mountain to get you, do you?"
"No!" The pups all whined.
"Alright then, get to bed," Johaiñe ordered before spreading his wings one last time, roaring madly. The pups scurried off.
"You'll give them terrors in the night if you keep that up," Agápi teased as Mycroft sat up to allow her to stand.
"They'll be fine," Johaiñe defended before taking off for his own home.
Mycroft & Agápi took a few minutes to pick up the hides & her repaired clothes before heading to her cabin in the small woods. They draped the hides over the fence before going inside to lay the clothes over the chairs to dry. Agápi sighed before taking Mycroft by the hand & leading him to bed.
After their time together, Agápi lay across Mycroft's bare chest, staring at the fire shadows dancing on the far wall. Her hand traced patterns over his exposed body, before coming to rest on the hairs down there. "What happened to you?"
Mycroft paused from stroking her hair. "What do you mean?"
"When I told you what that man was guilty of," she said, raising her head to look into his eyes. "Someone did that to you, didn't they?"
Mycroft took too long to reply, so she already knew his answer. He never told anyone exactly what transpired for him the night he died.
Except the Lady of the Waldheri.
The next day, Mycroft found Johaiñe, who had returned, telling stories to the pups again. After they had retreated to their dens for breakfast, Mycroft went up the trail with Johaiñe to the large shed were extra dry grass was stored for the horses. But they never got anywhere near the doors for a huge sparkling orb blocked their path. It was a spider web, frozen dew outlining every single thread, hanging there, attached by long frozen threads to trees on either side. Both screamed so loud that the Lady appeared a moment later, wondering if they were getting destroyed.
She stared at the iced web blocking the way before looking at the two dumb-founded idiots, still hissing through gritted fangs, wings fully spread on both of them, rattling together in irritation. "It's fine. The horses can starve for a day. It's all fine." She turned & left rather hurriedly, Mycroft & Johaiñe following a moment later, both rather sheepish-looking.
"I think I might add some giant spiders to my stories," Johaiñe mused to himself as he went back down the trail after Mycroft.
"Destroy me," Mycroft murmured to no one in particulate. "Please. Any body, just destroy me!"
Unfortunately, Johaiñe did exactly as he said & big spiders were forever a part of his fantasies. Tobias was the ill-fated one to go up there & strike the thing with a very, very, very long branch, shattering it. He ran away as it came crashing down, barking unhappily for the rest of the day off in the forest somewhere. The ice slowly melted on the ground as the sun came up higher.
Winter at last gave way completely to spring. Certain birds returned. Plants began to wake up & grow again. Mycroft started keeping a close eye on Johaiñe, expecting him to start planting soon. He followed him discreetly back & forth between the valley of wolves & the witch doctor's village, but the old man still hadn't bothered to plant a private garden, or even mention it.
Finally, on a rare occasion on being back up in the village, Mycroft decided to ask, "I see others here have started planting. Are you ever going to start your garden again?"
Johaiñe laughed, causing others to stare at him. He handed a small vase of blood to Sherlock who was with him before answering. "Still going on about that, are you? It's right here!" He put a finger to the side of his head. After questioning looks from both of them, he went on. "It's all in my head. Everything. It's where I store my tales & languages. It's a kind of technique to retain all that you know. Comes from lands way up beyond us. **"
"How does it work?" Sherlock asked.
"It's very simple," Johaiñe said. "You create a place inside you that only you can see & visit in your dreams, be it awake or asleep. Everything is in it's place. You learn its pattern & then you put everything you know into place & only you can access it. No one can mess it up since it's inside you."
"Does it have to be a garden?" Sherlock asked.
Johaiñe smiled a moment. "It can be whatever place you want."
Sherlock moved away, letting the other two go on without him. A place inside you? How can that be? He closed his eyes, envisioning the ocean, a raiding ship, sea ports. Suddenly, an image of Trefor appeared, just standing there & then his mind slipped to that one & only kiss they ever shared & never spoke about again. Sherlock could almost feel Trefor lying on him again & that one heated moment of intensity between them. With a short gasp, Sherlock opened his eyes as he stumbled to the nearest tree & leaned on it. He looked ahead to see a few horses in the next field, trying to clear his head. It had always been Elizabet or Trefor, but now they were both gone.
He started to move forward again. The horses nickered at him but he paid them no mind as he walked through their pasture. He could control these images. He dropped into a corner of the field & tried again.
He could bring up Trefor, Elizabet, Eurus, his children, his parents. Any moment he thought of, he attempted to see it. Alright. It was working. This was good. Now, where to put them? A ship? That would only work for Trefor. He sifted through everything he knew without even realizing it. Stories of old by his father of what he had heard in the sea ports. Stories by Johaiñe.
Both had palaces in them. The great palaces of Egypt where Pharaohs sat. The palace in the old man's stories. Sherlock knew full well what a palace would be although he had yet to see one in real life.
But this wasn't real life. This was a place inside him that only he could get to. He stayed there in the field for a long time, unaware of his real surroundings, building up his own Mind Palace. When it was done, he placed an image of himself on the white marble steps, waiting.
"Hello, Xanthá."
Sherlock turned on the stairs to see her coming down to him & finally, he understood too late, the idea of beauty in women. She was dead, never to grow old or lose her looks & now, this image was all he would ever be allowed to see. He could do whatever he wanted here, but it would not follow him back into reality. He took a few steps back. "Stay away. I could hurt you."
"How? This is all you." She came up to him & held him close. "Do you want to hurt me?"
"No." He put his hands up into her hair, trying not to think of the last time they had mated. Or did it count since he was dead at that time? How dare he touch her in that state? Also, why now get upset about it? She never knew. It didn't matter.
Both looked sideways, hearing the two boys laugh & seeing Ishtar running with them while Siger & Violéta looked on. He felt Trefor come up behind him to snuggle up against his wing-infested back.
Sherlock opened his eyes before imagining his wings to find himself alone in the field of horses. He stood up slowly. That had been different. He had them. Right there. He could replay that as often as he wanted, never to forget their faces for all of eternity. He put a hand out to lean on the fence. Eternity. Could he really retain these fleeting memories for that amount of time? Exactly how long was eternity anyway?
He gripped the fence, crying silently. He wondered if there was a way to get rid of overwhelming feelings. He didn't admit it to anyone, but losing her had crippled him. Sherlock was traumatized. Natural ... he was, in the early days, an emotional child. But ... after the events of this past winter, he was different, as though he had changed. If only he could focus on logical things instead of this pain that hindered him despite having no discernible wounds. There had to be a way & if there was, he would find it! He climbed over the fence & headed down the road towards home.
Sherrinford was the next to give up & give in. On another visit to the island, he came across someone from Wycoller. A survivor! Sherrinford pulled the culprit out.
He was a young thing, probably not much older than Sherlock, but that didn't matter to Sherrinford. All those of Wycoller were guilty: for believing the lies, for partaking in the gossip spreading those lies, for partaking in the murders of his parents, or worse, for not helping at all.
Sherrinford brought the offender to the far end of the island, away from the others trapped here with a few guards working on their wounds. He pinned the young man against the large rock, grasping tightly around the throat.
"We had to watch our parents burn because of you people!" Sherrinford snarled. "We were all still alive at the time. It is only now that those of us who remain are among the dead, but not that day! I'll kill you myself, for what you did!" With a yell of rage, he wrenched the prisoner forward, flinging him against the opposite boulder. The blow stunned his victim.
Slowly pushing himself up to his knees, the boy gasped, "I-I was n-not there at-at that time!"
"Do you think I care?" Sherrinford retorted. "Do you think any of the children of Siger & Violéta care about your whereabouts when your village destroyed us? Huh?" He backed away & spread out his arms. "Name one of their children who care!" Angry tears rolled down his cheeks as he drew in a shuddering breath, waiting for a reply that did not come. "You can't, can you? If it weren't for what happened then, we would all still be alive but now! Ohh now! Look what I have to do to survive now! You brought this on yourself!"
"It's not even my crime for why I was dumped here!"
"That's not my problem!" Sherrinford hissed, literally like a cat. "The Lady is not here. I came on my own. The others are on the other end of this island & all I have to do is tell anyone who asks that it was your time. No one will save you!" At that, he pounced on his prey & took extra care to hang him violently so that the cuffs cut in so much, the wrists broke. He didn't even blink as he watched the horrid human die. Anyone of Wycoller deserved no less.
Sherrinford took the blood back home. He never said that he had just killed someone on the island without them showing remorse. If asked, he would simply lie about it, but fortunately, no one had bothered. But there was no denying it. He had snapped & he held a certain affinity for that deathtrap out there in the ocean ever since & worse, in time, he would eventually make the island his own for high class criminals all over the world some day in the future.
The next one to accept their fate was Eurus. She had killed before in self defence or defence of her brothers & a few weeks after Sherrinford, she finally participated in her own execution, this time of a thief. But it was different. Sherlock wasn't the only one to change abruptly after the horrific events of the winter. Eurus also, seemed to be affected. It was obvious when it all started. She was never the same after that ... . It was as if ... that past winter woke her up.
Mycroft had watched her behaviour on that island. Her personality would change to something he didn't want to think about. She had some sort of persuasive power over those destined to die & the last executions had been calm. Not even a scream when they were torn open.
Eurus looked at the newest prey, still fretting in front of them. "I'm only trying to help you. We can help each other. Helping someone is the best way you can help yourself." She stared at the thief, unblinking. As the strange conversation carried on, the thief had become not only subdued but also cooperative & then, she had killed him, saying it was proper to do so, for the alternative would be worse.
On a rare occasion he got a chance to speak to Sherlock, Mycroft told him, "She does strange things on that island," he nodded to Eurus who was out in the street with a few of the other women in the village. "Eurus doesn't just talk to people. She bewitches them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised."
"I've seen it," Sherlock said. "She gets them to accept their fates."
Sherrinford joined them as he added, "Personally, I like it. They go quietly. It is not so brutal as before."
"It is still gruesome," Sherlock admitted. "But what else can we do?"
Mycroft moved towards the trail, not saying another word. He distanced himself from them once more as they were still shunning him as much as possible. But he knew. Just with that one comment, he knew. It would only be a matter of time before Sherlock would give up the last bit of his humanity & make his own kill on that wretched island. Mycroft knew that, all too well. What he did not expect was that Eurus would be the one to help Sherlock fully cross over.
She had pulled out three prisoners who were brothers & forced them to kneel in front of Sherlock as she told him about each one. Next, she had asked him to choose who the worst one was. It took a while, but eventually, he picked the middle one.
Eurus stood behind Sherlock, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Are you sure?"
"From what you've told me," Sherlock said. "Yes, he is the worst of the three. All are Sea Raiders, but he is the leader."
"Very good," Eurus purred. Next moment, a sheen of silver appeared on either side of Sherlock & the two other brothers fell dead, being stabbed right through by her wings.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked. "I said this one!" He pointed at the middle brother still kneeling in front of them. "We are not supposed to execute them until they are sorry."
"I persuaded the other guards to leave," Eurus said. "No one will know. It's just us here." She leaned in closer to Sherlock. "I told you to pick out the worst of them," She went on. "I left him alive as a gift for you to kill. He looks sorry enough, to me. It's his fault his brothers got taken here. It's all his fault that they met me. It's his fault they are dead now." She moved out from behind Sherlock to glare at the last remaining brother. "You know I'm right. You dragged your brothers into this mess & where did it get them? Dead. Do you deny it?" The man burst into tears. Eurus looked at Sherlock as she pulled the man up to his feet before shoving him forward into Sherlock's arms.
Sherlock held the blubbering mess away. "Are you?" He asked softly, turning the man to force him to look at his dead brothers. A slight nod & a fresh wave of tears. Sherlock shared a look with Eurus, resigned to the fact he would have to learn how to do this sooner or later. Fine. Get it over with. "Come with me, then." He hauled his first victim forward & strung him up.
Sherlock closed his eyes, wondering how to turn off feelings. Ice. Be as cold as ice. The colour of his wings. He suddenly remembered Merlin's warning of how some lose touch with the world, becoming cold & unfeeling. It WAS possible! He didn't even feel his wings come out as he thrust one forward to cut open his first kill as an immortal undead being. Eurus smiled as she watched him. They took the vessels of fresh blood back to the witch doctor's village.
The roads cleared as spring warmed up quickly. More people would visit the village to see the witch doctor now that the main trails were open again & it was easier to move about. Merlin took advantage of the nicer weather & soon set up another gathering for his kind. It would be in the medicine hall once those called could find the time to come in.
This particular assembly was different from the others. Before, such times were used to discuss how to remain hidden, how to control those like Dracula & perhaps some rule or some form of governorship. But now was the culmination of all those talks.
Sherrinford, Mycroft, Sherlock, Eurus, Merlin, Agápi, Johaiñe, Tobias & Éiren, who was another werewolf but from a different pack from Tobias, were present, along with several others from various lands, even some from across the great ocean.
There were a few final things to discuss & it seemed that Merlin & those with him were the ones who would have the final say. In fact, everyone seemed to either know Merlin in particular or know about him & Mycroft silently wondered again just how far back Merlin was.
Sherlock added an opinion of his own. The topic of some of the undead being buried had come up & he had suggested not leaving the victim alone until they had completed transition & were safe. He pointedly avoided Mycroft's glare as he spoke. "It would be safer that way," Sherlock said. "Not only from those still alive wishing to get rid of us out of fear, but also from others of our kind who may take advantage of someone still going through the change."
After a few moments of talking among themselves, the idea was readily accepted.
"We also really need to work on remaining secret," Sherrinford said. "We should discourage the villages of any boasting about destroying us & try to end their hunts. It only brings more problems, like what happened in Thaec when Xanthá & Elizabet had gone to see her brother. Certain uninvited guests dropped in." He looked at Sherlock as he added, "I think it was because you both were there."
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.
"They wanted you to see it," Sherrinford said. "They had plenty of time to attack Thaec, but I've noticed they were killing those involved only when Theós or Cásel had been around. But you & Elizabet were there for Dion. It was as if they waited for you to go, I think. You were being followed. Stalked, more like it & you still are. We all are."
"The sooner we get rid of Drákoulas, the better," Merlin said. "It will be hard to become completely secret until at least he is gone."
"He has control of the ports," someone else said. Sherlock sat a little straighter as he listened while the person went on. "It will be hard to root him out. Some say he even controls the Sea Raiders."
Sherlock found himself in the white Mind Palace with Trefor. They had both played at Sea Raiders when they were young, never daring to hope they could actually become Raiders, themselves. As the conversation went on about exactly how much control of the high seas Drákoulas might have, Sherlock began devising his own plans with his image of Trefor helping him. "Yes, that could work," he suddenly spoke aloud to himself.
"What?" Sherrinford asked.
Sherlock stared at him, coming to terms with the fact that he had accidentally spoken outright. "Oh, uh, nothing."
Sherrinford rolled his eyes before turning back to the others, but Sherlock once more found himself inside his palace, talking with his own personal Trefor & together, they came up with their own plan. It wouldn't be too hard for Sherlock. There were too many memories here. Every time he closed his eyes without visiting this strange palace, all he could see were his parents, still very much alive, but charred down to the bones or the bodies of his children or Elizabet. Leaving Sherrinford & Eurus might be a bit hard, but if they were truly immortal, he could find them again some day. He didn't care about Mycroft.
Really, the only thing to worry about was his mare. She would need a home.
"Eurus needs a new horse," Trefor told him, passing a hand through Sherlock's long curly hair.
Problem of the mare solved, he now had to decide how to get that red drink he would often need.
"You know where the island is," Elizabet said, entering the palace. "You also know the rule. Don't harm the innocent."
"That island is not the only place were unworthy people live," Trefor said.
Sherlock was literally shaken out of the Mind Palace & opened his eyes to see the Lady looking over him. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"I am fine," Sherlock replied, catching Johaiñe's short smile back at him. He glanced around to see that the others who did not live in the area had been filing out, leaving only the nine locals.
There was a large hide spread over the table, bearing several marks of Linear B. A written law the undead would now follow but it would take time to implement it, starting with the removal of those who would oppose, such as Dracula.
As the last few members of the meeting broke up, Sherlock went outside & started towards his mare.
"So?" Johaiñe's voice sounded out. Sherlock spun around to find the old man leaning against the shed. "What it is?"
"What is what?" Sherlock asked, rather bemused by the question.
Johaiñe pushed himself away from the wall & tapped a finger on his forehead before getting close to Sherlock & placing that same finger onto Sherlock's forehead. "Where you go. It's a garden for me, but everyone who learns how to do it has their own space. I saw you drift off in there & you spoke aloud to yourself. I do that, as well."
Sherlock watched his mare munch on a pile of dried apples. "A palace. A tall white tower."
Johaiñe spaced out for a moment, adding something somewhere as yet another idea came to him. "That is a good place," he said. "I hope it helps you." He headed down the road.
While the mare finished eating, Sherlock went into Sherrinford's home. He wanted to see him again before leaving. Part of him wanted to tell Sherrinford, but Sherlock couldn't bring himself to do it. It was as if both Elizabet & Trefor were there, in his Mind Palace, silently screaming at him to keep quiet. What he was planning with them was unsafe & the less Sherrinford or Eurus knew, the better.
"Interesting day," Sherrinford said, handing a red-stained stone mug to Sherlock. He stepped back a few paces towards a chair by the table. A loud yowl made him whip around. "Oh! Artemis! I'm sorry!"
Sherlock laughed into his blood as the cat streaked for cover. She spun around under the table, yellow eyes glaring. Her angry face said it all. MY TAIL! MY BEAUTIFUL TAIL!
Sherrinford got down & leaned in a little. "I'm so sor—OW!" Artemis had clobbered him on the nose with her paw, claws out.
The fluffy gray cat continued to glare up at him as he stood, clutching his nose. She hissed. If you ever die again, I hope you stay dead!
"Hey, I can hiss to!" Sherrinford promptly did so.
Imbecile! Artemis continued to glare at him.
"Whatever," Sherrinford gave up & turned to his stupid, giggling little brother. "Why don't you shut up?"
This made Sherlock laugh harder. "She's going to hate you for the rest of the day."
"I didn't even know she was there," Sherrinford defended. "I thought she was outside."
"I think she followed me in," Sherlock said before finishing off his drink. He placed his mug on the table. "So ... Undead Law. I wonder how long it will last?"
"Well, it depends if we can get rid of Drákoulas or not," Sherrinford replied. "It is nigh unto impossible. Destroying him is just one thing but if he really controls the ports, then those following him would be an even bigger problem."
"The ports need to be cleared," Sherlock mused more to himself.
"How?" Sherrinford groaned. "We don't have that kind of power. Not enough of us."
"Perhaps that will be a discussion at the next meeting," Sherlock said. "I will check up on Eurus before going home." He headed for the door.
Sherrinford watched out the window as Sherlock mounted up & rode off in the direction of their sister's home before turning to the cat still glaring at him. "Alright, we need to work something out."
Sherlock stayed with Eurus until it was dark, discussing the Law. She said the same thing as Sherrinford. Driving the followers of Dracula out of the ports would have to happen first & it was an impossible task.
When Sherlock finally rode into the night, he circled around & waited in the forest until the light in her home went out. He returned & quietly put the mare into the lean-to stall for Eurus before walking out & after a short gaze up into the night, he flew away.
From Sherrinford. From Eurus. From his mare.
His whole life was here & had been destroyed. But if he stayed, he knew even his undead state would be taken from not only him, but anyone else who were trying to maintain a semi-normal existence.
Sherlock knew it would take many seasons for his plan to work. He had to disappear & gain the trust of some very dangerous individuals. Only from within could he release their hold.
There was only one way to liberate those ports. Go in unseen, without anyone knowing, & join them!
(AN: Star Trek fans might recognize a certain line.)
* Based upon Mycroft's actions in "The Final Problem" in which he not only refused to kill an innocent man, but was also horrified by it; yet at the same time, being a British spy, he is just as capable of killing criminals without thought, like what he tried to do with Irene.
** It is apparently a real thing from Ancient Greece.