A/N - all through the winter in his lonely clump of weed… ;-D
oooOOOooo
Skwillin staggered towards the veterinary quarters, struggling to stay upright as the walls undulated all around him, threatening to cave in on him. He banged first into one wall, then the other, shaking his head with each involuntary full-body impact in an effort to rouse himself. He felt sick and dizzy. Why, he'd only downed one single solitary self-indulgent drink in the tavern. Cinnamon worm slushy with a dash of honey instead of gin, though he was tempted as ever to imbibe. So what was happening to him? Were the worms off? He didn't think so. Pim Tarmiul was too shrewd a housekeeper to let anything like that happen. His reputation would be at stake.
Skwillin frowned. Then gasped. Waarul! He saw his partner's wicked paw in this. Waarul rarely bought him a drink, if ever, and Skwillin had been pleasantly surprised when he'd splurged. Waarul had been in high spirits, had finally quit banging his whip menacingly against his leg, and Skwillin had let his guard down, had concluded that Waarul meant no harm. Not to him, nor to their latest acquisition.
Jaan.
How could he have been so stupid? So naive? His partner had lulled him, and had laced his drink. Most likely when he'd gone to take a leak. What other explanation was there? He'd woken up outside the tavern, sprawled out in the main thoroughfare like some drunken Fromian cockroach, lying in a pool of his own vomit.
It was growing late, already approaching eighth candle. He was supposed to have joined his littermate to help treat his Jaan at seventh. He'd promised to help soothe it while she tended it. Fetch and carry for her. Fine by him. He really couldn't argue with that, and found himself looking forward to working alongside her. He knew now he'd made the wrong career choice, much to his chagrin.
The poor avian had been sorely abused. Probably for most of its life. He knew that now, to his utter sorrow. He'd decided against the charcoaling he'd formerly proposed, though he had several intricate full-body tattoo designs in mind for it, should it live.
He shoved that thought aside. It seemed pointless now. Somehow, he didn't think his Jaan would be with them for very much longer, one way or another. Waarul was spoiling for a fight, a confrontation, but for the life of him, he couldn't think what had riled him so. What had he done? Unless… No! Surely Waarul couldn't still hold that against him? It was ancient history. Wasn't it?
Karrowin. Waarul had slyly worked his way up to this, and had finally discovered a way to hurt him. The partnership founded upon a drink and a pawshake in that very tavern many years ago had been a sham all along.
Skwillin sighed, gained the entrance, and peered in.
"Karr?" he croaked. "Where's - "
"Waarul and his cronies have your avian. I couldn't stop them. I am so, so sorry, Skwill."
Skwillin found his littermate in a miserable heap, clutching her head in both hands. Never had he felt so bad for her, felt so close to her, but now wasn't the time to wax maudlin. He had to find his avian. He realized he really didn't give a skink's rump about the damn, ailing circus. It was over. He was heartily sick of it all. He would send the plate-spinning geckos back to their desert planet, the juggling meerkats off into the savannah, the ice-skating cattle out to pasture, preferably with access to a frozen pond during the winter months. As for those axolotl clowns - those he'd send to the depths from whence they came. They creeped him out big time. Imagine being capable of reproduction without ever properly reaching adulthood? There was something essentially very, very wrong about that. As for the maoras - he'd send those vicious, brainless carnivores off to a Wraith-infested planet, and good riddance to both.
"You hurt?" he whispered.
Karrowin snorted.
"He struck me about my head with his closed fist, but I fare well enough. It's not that bad. I should know." She gave a knowing nod. "Vet?" She indicated herself from head to toe with a flick of her claws, a wry smile on her face. "Not much difference to being a doctor."
"Hah! Karr?"
"Still here."
"I have to stop him. Jaan - I think it's intelligent. Forgive my heresy, but I honestly believe it's not a mimic!"
"And only for that you would do no harm? What about the rest of them? The ones who cannot think on our level? All life is precious, Skwill. Have you really never noticed I only eat truffles and never worms, and have not done so since reaching puberty? And your Jaan's silence has paradoxically proven it was - is! - most definitely not a mimic. Those would babble inanely at being hauled away in chains by their front paws. This one was - stoical. Resigned. Silent." She paused. "Save it. Him. It's a male."
"You checked?"
"Skwillin? Wake up! Finally! Just - go. I'll be right behind you with my medical kit. I just need a moment."
She winced, then looked up through huge, twinkling eyes. Whoa. It was little wonder his sorry partner had fallen for her.
"Waarul is heading for the underground waterfall. He plans to dunk him, but I fear he is too sick to survive even that. As for whether he truly is a male or not, your avian's wrap wore away from his body leaving him exposed."
oooOOOooo
Jaan heard a steady scraping sound, along with an occasional skeleton-jolting clank. The clank reverberated throughout his bones, but the scraping sound was joined by a scraping of another sort. Of the skin and flesh from his body. This was it. The end of the line. He was being skinned alive! They wanted to use his pelt, sparse though it was. What would he end up as? A bowl? A cup? A piss pot? He expected to be upright for treatment such as this, but he was flat to the floor, being shredded cruelly against rock and gravel.
Grated.
The tugging sensation began at his wrists, dragging the rest of him with it. What, so not just the skin off his back? The feathers off his wings? They clearly planned to use every last scrap of him. He decided to let it be. He had no more fight left in him. He reckoned it was about time anyways. He prayed to the stars that his end would be quick. That if nothing else was left him, his body parts would be put to halfway decent use. He had hoped, briefly, that the softer partner might have cared for him, at least for a while. He'd told it to go to Hell.
Many owners had claimed they loved him. So, what else was new? They still beat him and sold him on when they tired of him or found a cute, furry replacement, so why let his guard down now? Believe for one moment that he was wanted? No-one wanted a freak around for long in case freakdom was contagious.
He heard the crack of that whip. What, this wasn't enough? Was he supposed to help them drag him to his death? Yet the pissy partner didn't strike him. Not even once. What gives? He was maybe that bad off already, huh. Crap.
He felt what was left of him being tipped into the rending vat. But instead of the fatal shock of searing heat, he bore the shock of intense cold. And he was still alive! What was with that?
He was now fully submerged. So, they planned on drowning him instead? Was he back with the sharks? After a wing chewing, that was their next favorite punishment. Plunge his face under water, take him to the brink, then rip his head up by his hair to the surface, gasping, only to have the cycle repeated amidst a frenzy. The agony of drowning wasn't in that final intake of water into the lungs, it was in the holding on, the holding of breath for agonizing moments a lifetime long.
Despite himself, Jaan held his breath. He wished he knew why he carried on. He could end this torture! Why couldn't he give in? It sucked.
He bobbed in the water, shivering, his arms wrenched above his head. His wings were sodden, tugging at his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn't even lift his head. Instead, he allowed his gaze to focus on the rippling surface of the round pool. The image took him back to that blue, shimmering well. The one that stole him away from all that he once knew. Or thought he knew.
For some odd reason, as he looked down into the water and at his own sorry reflection, Jaan imagined families. Actual families. Comprising dark creatures such as him. A mother, a father, a brother, a sister. Cousins, aunts and uncles. Grandparents, grandchildren. Neighbors. Colleagues. Acquaintances. Friends. Lovers. It was just fantasy, but it consoled him. He could almost feel them - if only he could just reach out and touch...
Hah. Dream on, Jaan. Good thing he was dripping wet. He would never let his current owners see his tears flow. As they dunked him time and time again, there in the gloom of an underground waterfall and accompanying pool, he sought solace in his silly daydream, interrupted only by the unwelcome squeal of a pulley ripping him back to the here and now. Well, at least he was finally clean. At least that.
In his mind's eye, creatures such as him were many, and were beautiful and serene and majestic and wholesome and pure. And they smiled. And they cried. And they laughed. And they played. And they shared. And they basked in the sun, reveled, and dreamed as one of the coming dawn with joy in their hearts and peace in their souls.
Peace. He could find that. It was even almost within reach. He just had to let go.
oooOOOooo
"For pity's sake, Waarul! Stop this now! This is torture, not sluicing! Your quarrel is with me not him!"
"Quite. And it's an it not a him. You're a fool, Skwillin. A stupid, sentimental old fool."
Skillin allowed his shoulders to slump. "You can have the circus. It's all yours! Just let Karr tend him. Please!"
"Very well."
"Really?"
"Why not? The circus is mine now. You just surrendered it. Verbal contract. Let all those present bear witness! Haul the thing out."
Skwillin winced as Jaan slapped face down against the rock floor like a landed axolotl. Karrowin was on him in an instant.
"Bang his back! Now!"
Skwillin leapt onto the small of Jaan's back, straddling him. He shoved the heavy, waterlogged wings to each side with all his might. Hard going, as Jaan's wingspan was at least three times Skwillin's own body length. He thumped as hard as he could between Jaan's shoulder blades. Nothing. His hands came away bloody.
"What do I do? I don't know what to do!"
"Don't stop until I tell you he's dead, so help me!"
Skwillin thumped again, cringing at the contact with soggy, shredded avian flesh. This time, Jaan's body jerked. Then he spluttered as water trickled out of his mouth in spurts. Jaan drew in a sharp intake of breath, then began to squirm, feebly at first, then with more vigor. The poor avian opened its eyes to slits, and looked up at him with such hurt, it made Skwillin want to squirm. He felt like a worm. Skwillin watched Jaan's wings twitch, making a feeble effort to shuck off moisture from his shoulders to his wing tips. Were such appendages a bonus or a burden? Skwillin conceded he would never truly know.
"Thanks. I think."
"Y-Your welcome. I think."
"Tend the thing, Pim Karrowin. I want it performance-ready by ninth candle."
"But - "
"No buts. The circus is mine, and in case you conveniently forgot, that includes everything." He jabbed a foreclaw at Jaan. "Everything! Including this miserable creature you so readily parted good money for."
Skwillin bowed his head. He'd been duped. Waarul took him for a fool because he was a fool.
"Will you let me tend him alongside my littermate? At least that." Skwillin pleaded with his eyes.
"Of course! I'll just leave my two good friends here to keep a watch over things." Waarul snorted.
Skwillin looked up at at Waarul's retreating back, then at the grinning thugs. He bowed his head, looking as contrite as he could. It was all so clear to him now. Waarul had gone quite mad. Perhaps with unrequited lust? There was nothing he could do for Jaan bar assist Karrowin in making Jaan well enough for tonight's performance.
Staying with Karrowin also sent a message to Waarul. That he stood by his littermate, and vice versa. Then he had an idea. As he unraveled salve wraps for her to apply to Jaan's battered body, he whispered in her ear.
"Once were done here, I'm leaving to find the Atlantians. They exist, you know."
"You really are a fool, Skwillin. They are mythological creatures, borne of our own longing."
"Pilliam said -"
"Pilliam?" She gave him a knowing look.
"I see your point. Pilliam is a fool. It obviously runs in the family. I get it. Thank you. So very much. Still, I have to try, Karr."
"Help me bandage him up. And fetch those two furs from over yonder, would you? We'll settle him on the larger one, and cover him with the smaller. The poor thing is frozen. You'll have to hurry, Skwill. And just so you know, I plan on freeing all the animals some day. The circus ones, the zoo ones, all the livestock. I don't care how long or how much it takes."
"I don't doubt you. Now just for a change, please don't doubt me."
She smiled wanly at him. It was a start.
Skwillin sidled out of the cavern under the guise of fetching more medical supplies. He crept his way unseen to the surface, smiled benignly at the guards, tugged a forelock, and even chatted with them for a few moments. Then as he burst out into the open plain, he was grateful for a clear, starlit night with no painfully dazzling moons to assail his subterranean eyesight. He could do this. He steeled himself, and set off for the mountains at a pace, towards where his possibly not quite so witless cousin Pilliam had purportedly spied the monstrous, tendril-headed avian circling a summit. He only prayed it - he! - was still there, and that he would reach him in time. There were too many loopholes, too many variables, but he had to try. He owed it to his Jaan.
oooOOOooo
Something held smelling salts under his nose, jerking him awake. They were screeching at him! Buzzing! Clicking! Keening! He was meant to do something, but what? He'd forgotten his orders? Crap. The constant barrage of noise hurt his head. And why the clapping and cheering? It came at him from every direction. Oh, no. The circus. He was in the ring. Smelling salts? No, it was the smell of the crowd.
He came to perched a rock, if the ache in his ass was anything to go by. Jaan groaned. He knew the routine. Tug gently at first, find out whether he'd been pinned by his wings, his wrists, his ankles. It was sometimes all three, but usually he was horizontal for whenever that happened.
He tried to raise his arms. They were free. Wow. His legs? Left one. Check. Right one? Nope, not a chance. Definitely an ankle cuff. His wings? Yep, pinned against the rock. So, that was what was keeping him from faceplanting big time. He reached for his wings – gah! That movement pulled on his latest injuries - and found he was pinned loosely. Dare he pull them out? He guessed that was the idea. He was on display after all. The big attraction.
He jiggled the pins loose, flopped over onto his belly, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. His arms shook as he struggled to brace them. He felt so dazed. He was still sick, his body slick with sweat. When would this torture end?
His body felt restricted. He ran a shaky hand over his chest and belly. He looked down. Huh. Flesh colored bandages swathed his entire torso, crisscrossing over and under his wings and around his waist. He guessed if the crowd didn't see him up close, they wouldn't know he'd been patched up for this.
They'd dressed him in a silky pair of pants. Ordinarily, he might have considered it an act of kindness, but no, these pants were way too fancy and flimsy for that. Sparkly. For show. They'd most likely make him remove them afterwards. If he was lucky, they'd toss him a rag to wrap himself in. His owners usually expected him to drape said rag around his head or shoulders, and were often surprised when he covered his manhood, then tied the rag in a double knot at his hip.
Jaan fumbled around his neck, and felt a collar in place. Damn. It chafed. He squirmed uselessly against it. Ow!
He scrabbled at his hands, and felt thick wrist bands in place. Decorative, by the feel. Studded. If he got out of this, he'd maybe admire them out of boredom. Ankle bands? Yep, also there. Crap. And was that a waist chain? They'd prettied him up. He was clearly supposed to perform, but how? He guessed he'd have to, well, wing it as usual.
Jaan heard a growl. He sighed deeply. What now? He looked up to see - hundreds if not thousands of pairs of red eyes glinting at him in the dark. They weren't moving towards him. They were watching, waiting at a distance. An equidistance. Uh oh. The next growl didn't come from that far off. Then a spotlight hit him, and he let out a moan as the intense glare stabbed his eyes. He tried to block the spotlight, only to be bombarded with another light, then another and another. There was no respite from the assault.
Then came another growl. It was even nearer now. He looked out blearily towards the crowd. They were wide-eyed. He heard a communal gasp. Oh, hell, no! He was bait! He should have let himself drown!
Way to screw up, Jaan!
Two big cats now circled the rock. Jaan ripped his gaze away to the ceiling of the cavern. If only he could see the stars just one more time. Instead he looked towards the crowd. They clapped and cheered once more. How could they condone this? Huh, what was he thinking. This was the usual. Jaan sighed.
The cats began to slink towards him, hackles raised. Whuh? Then it sank in. The moles wanted him to fly. So, they didn't want him dead. Well, not yet anyways. Well, he might as well throw in an aerial stunt or two. He just had to summon the energy to take off.
He could do this. Keep himself alive one more day. Take one day at a time. He might even end up on the surface again.
He vowed to be grateful to his next owners for sunlight and moonlight and starlight. The wind in his hair, beneath his wings, up and over his body. Even for rain. Snow, not so much. He would behave. Really, he would. He would never mouth off again.
Jaan clambered to the highest point, flapped his wings, feeling the air fan him. It helped just a tad. He was overheated, sweat-ridden, but despite that he summoned the wherewithall to leap into the air.
He was about to perform a loop the loop despite his banging head, when he felt a jerk on his ankle, and he instantly dropped at least two body lengths. Those cats. He looked down in horror to see one of them drag him back down towards it link by link. This wasn't a natural hunting technique. These things were trained. What kind of sick outfit was this?
There was no sign of the one they called Skwillin. There was that other partner, plain to see under several spotlights. Waarul, dressed as a ringmaster, sporting a red jacket. He was shouting something, stirring up the crowd. What, like this was a stunt gone badly wrong? Uh, he didn't think so!
Waarul was imploring the crowd to help the 'poor, dumb avian', help drive away the - 'maoras'? The crowd was going wild! They were up out of their seats, throwing whatever they had towards the cats. It had to include coinage, maybe even jewelry. Cunning bastard.
Waarul was busy stirring them up into a frenzy, which made the cats hiss at the crowd in defense. The one mole broke away from the others. Was that the vet? Karrowin. Yeah, Karrowin. She dashed across to Waarul, snatching the whip from about his waist. What the hell was she thinking? Then she ran towards the nearest cat. Why?
From his aerial vantage point, Jaan spotted the second cat circling the rock. It was stalking her. He yelled for her to get back, even yelled at her by name, but he couldn't be heard above all the squealing and yipping and crashing of chairs. Crap!
Then - an explosion. Jaan looked up through his splayed fingers. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling of the cavern, and by the sudden lightening just above his ankle, his chain had been broken!
He could escape!
Save himself!
Reach the stars!
Debris rained down, and he watched in horror as one huge chunk of rock after another came crashing to the floor, sending the mole crowd scurrying for safety. Jaan swooped down, and tried to scoop the vet out of harm's way, but he couldn't lift her. Despite a rush of energy, it wasn't enough. Jaan shielded her with his body instead, and as the crowd screamed and cried out, he felt the flesh of his right thigh rip open. He screamed.
He'd been mauled!
Pain and shock made his vision gray. Chips of rock tumbled all around him. Jaan imagined reaching the stars even as he pushed the vet to the ground, and threw his body across her, wrapping his wings around them both, protecting both their heads. He thought he heard bursts of weaponsfire, saw flashes of some red light through his ragged feathers.
Something landed on him. Padded up his body. It was that other damn big cat. Jaan tightened his wings around the vet, exposing his own back. He hunched his shoulders to protect his neck, and curled up and over her as best he could. The cat licked along his back, and tore into it, ripping away his now bloodied bandages, tossing his body around. The pain was overwhelming, and he screamed in agony.
Still he clung onto her. When the cat slammed his head into a rock, he saw those stars. He'd reached them after all. They'd been in his head all along. He smiled to himself, even as the stars faded and his vision grayed, and he flopped lifeless to the floor.
oooOOOooo
A/N - goodbye, cruel world… ;-D
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