Chapter 5
"I love my love with an H because he is happy."
She had begun again on one of her many rhymes and riddles, her cracking voice sounding horrible when she had decided to sing in high notes. The entire journey to Marmoreal had been filled with endless rhymes, riddles and broken singing from the one named Helen. She followed behind the Hatter, moving in that skipping walk that made the Cheshire cat feel somewhat dizzy just from watching.
"I hate him with an H because he is hideous." She began to dance around the Hatter then, her white robe flying around her while she held her hands up in a delicate manner. Had the Hatter not been convinced that she was as utterly as mad as he, he would have thought she was doing a perfect imitation of the White Queen's gliding walk.
"I feed my love ham sandwiches and hay. He lives on a hill and his name is…" She paused at this, as if trying to remember the name but of course the name escaped her. "His name is-."
"You do enjoy the letter H, don't you Mad Helen?" Chessur broke in on her singing, his grin growing wider as he watched her continuing in her gliding dance around the Hatter.
Her dark eyes searched for him and found him floating up above her head. She craned her neck back, her wild, dark curls falling away from her face to reveal the burned flesh of right cheek. She smiled at the cat and held her arms out to him, as if beckoning him into her embrace. "I love my love with an H..." Her voice had gone husky and seductive, the cracking soprano replaced by something more intimate. For once, the cat himself was caught off guard, this sudden and maddening change in her voice sending a prickling of déjà vu through his fur.
The Hatter's dizzying laugh broke through the awkward silence as he watched Helen dance ahead of him as if nothing had happened. She was holding onto the hem of her robe, humming to herself as she swung her arms this way and that. She was different, so very different. Different was, at the moment, terribly funny. Had the Hatter ever seen his old friend caught off guard? Perhaps, maybe once, a very long time ago. He was not sure of when it had been or how, but he was sure that it had happened.
"That woman has been here before." Chessur floated closer to the Hatter as he dropped his voice, his grin not quite as big as it had been before. "I feel like I should know her..."
"Perhaps her madness is affecting you Chess?" The Hatter continued to laugh at his friend as they followed Helen along the main road that led to the White Queen's castle. "She does have a quality of madness that puts even Thackery's to shame." He turned his electric green gaze to the woman, studying her thoughtfully as she had resumed her skipping dance from before. It was odd, she seemed happier than she had been when she had first arrived at the tea party. She had been so agitated in her quest to find whatever she had lost, perhaps the Raven she always spoke of.
Since they had begun their journey to see the White Queen however, she had not mentioned the Raven in any of her rhymes or riddles. Watching her in her skipping dance, he had to envy that sweet innocence that she gave off at the moment. As if there was nothing or no one that could possibly harm her...
She stopped, turned around to look at the Hatter, and smiled. The Hatter stopped in surprise, not expecting the sudden about face. He had almost tripped over her but had caught himself on time and was now staring down at her. A heartbeat passed, a single moment in which he was suddenly aware that she had a surprisingly large smile.
"Would you run with me Hatter? Far beyond the hills?"
The question caught him off guard. For one, it was the first time she had addressed him directly by his trade name. Secondly, it was the third time since meeting her that the look of clarity appeared in those intriguing dark orbs. Was she as truly mad as she let on? He was about to open his mouth to speak when the smile disappeared from her face. She looked past his shoulder, seeing something that he couldn't see. It took but a moment for her to turn her back to him and stare up at the branches of the trees that lined the road. "Nevar more?"
She was lost again within that madness of hers and the Hatter felt a tiny twinge of disappointment. What had happened to her? She walked away from him, her eyes on a particular tree further up the road. "How now... Nevar more..." Her hands were clenched at her sides as she stopped walking and looked up in the branches. "Raven, come to me… Keep the Shadows away…"
Tap, tap, tap…
At first, the Hatter thought he was hearing things but he noticed that Chessur's ears had perked up at the sound and his feline head had turned toward the tree that Helen was staring so intently at. "Well, it seems that Mad Helen may not be as mad as we thought."
The Hatter, at first confused by this statement, followed the cat's gaze toward a low hanging branch that Helen was now walking towards. Perched on the branch, it's glossy, dark feathers catching in the light from the setting sun, a raven stared at the woman with an intense gaze. Its feathers ruffled and it turned its beak down to the branch. It began tapping against the wood, a sound that seemed to affect dear Helen in a way that the Hatter had not been expecting.
"How now… Nevar more…" She held out her left hand, the palm of the glove stained a dark crimson. Her hand had been injured, how had he not noticed? Perhaps it was because of the black ink that stained the fingers of her gloves. It had blended well enough with the blood in the frozen dusk of that clearing.
"Little dream… soar away…" She continued in her walk toward the tree, her hand held out higher toward the raven. The raven had ceased in its tapping and turned around to look at Helen. This time however, there was something in its beak: a small, round object the color of a midnight sky. It leaned forward and dropped the object in Helen's waiting hand.
Chessur, who had been watching the entire scene with curiosity, straightened from his relaxed position floating behind the Hatter. His luminous, green eyes had caught sight of the object in Helen's hand and his ears perked up as his grin faded completely. "No, wait! Don't-."
Helen did not hear the cat's protests and had slipped the object into her mouth, swallowing it dry. All of this had happened in such a short span of time that the Hatter hardly had enough time to react. One moment, Helen was standing there, smiling up at the raven and the next she was falling over to one side in a dead faint. He just barely caught her before falling down with her, faintly surprised at how heavy she was. He glanced down at her, noting the lack of response in her usually animated face. Her jaw had slackened, her mane of dark, curly tangles spilling over his left arm.
"Helen…?" He reached out and gently slapped her cheek, her left cheek that was smooth and unblemished. His bandaged fingers brushed against her cheek, the feel of the cold skin shocking him to the core. The feel of that cold skin was not something he wanted to feel, not again. A feeling of dread touched him and a shadow fell across his face, his green eyes changing slightly to a reddish hue. "What did she swallow?" he asked, his usually soft and well spoken voice now replaced by a hoarser growl. The sudden shift in his accent spoke measures to the change in his mood, a more primal shift in his temper that normally would have scared even Chessur.
The cat had been at the receiving end of the temper once before and he was grateful to not be at the end of it now. "It was Slypnuth, a sleeping draft that puts a person into a deep, dreamless sleep."
A muscle ticked beneath the pale skin of his jaw, the dark shadows that were smudged beneath his eerie eyes giving him a terribly haunted look. "When will she wake?"
"She won't. She will sleep until the end of time unless you know where to procure Waikunth." His tail moved restlessly from side to side as he glanced at Hatter. "Which you can't, not anymore. The use of Slypnuth had been banned in Underland since the time of the Old Kings." He faded from view and reappeared on the branch where the Raven was still perched. Just as the cat was about to pounce on the bird, the raven faded from view and reappeared perched on a higher branch. Chessur blinked in surprise and his grin returned slightly, his sharp teeth appeared to be ready to take a chunk out of ebony bird. "Evaporating skills? Well, that explains some things." He floated up from the branch and stared at the raven, his curiosity overwhelming his urge to make this bird his next meal. "You do know how to speak don't you? Why did you give that woman a sleeping draft? She appears to have been looking for you and this is how you treat her?" His grin grew as the raven ruffled its feathers and shook its head.
"…neeuQ etihW eht ot reh ekaT," the raven said in a musical voice that flowed so freely from its beak. It was a soothing voice but it was hard to tell if it was male or female.
"It should repeat that in a language we understand," said the Hatter, glancing up at the raven with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Unless it would rather lose its feathers…" A dangerous smile slid across his pale face.
Whatever the raven saw, it appeared to not like and it ruffled its feathers even more and suppressed a shiver. It turned a dark eye down toward the sleeping woman, watching her for a bit, before its feathers smoothed over.
"I would listen to him if I were you, Raven," said Chessur, who was now floating on his side and studying his claws. "It would be less painful for you."
The raven took in a breath and opened its beak to speak but a nasty choking sound escaped. The bird coughed and hacked for a moment before it shook its head and sighed. "That language is so hard on the tongue…" Its voice was so soothing to the ears and it seemed to even have a calming effect on the Hatter. The shadows had receded a bit from his face and his eyes were turning back to their electric green.
The raven looked at Chessur and the Hatter and then gave an uncanny bow to the both of them. "I beg your forgiveness Cheshire cat and Hatter. However I could not speak to you while she was awake."
"What do you mean you could not speak while she was awake?" Chessur dropped his claws, studying the raven with interest.
The raven looked at the cat and shook its head in reply. "I am bound by the magic of the Bl-Bla-Blaccchh-." It choked on the word it was trying to say and let out a cough. After a moment, it gave up trying to say whatever it was. A sad look appeared on its face and sighed. "I cannot speak of it, any of it. The only thing I can tell you is that you must take her to the White Queen. She is not safe, not out here where they can watch her. It is best if she does not speak, especially now that the sun is setting."
"They?" Chessur's ears perked up in curiosity. Something was happening and the Cheshire cat had a gnawing feeling that it wouldn't be ending any time soon.
The raven looked down at the sleeping form of Helen and the look on its face could best be described as longing. "The Sh-Sh-shagghhh-." It choked on the words and then gave up without a fight. "Just take her to the White Queen, she will know how to make Waikunth to awaken her. The recipes will be hidden since they were banned but I am sure the Queen will find them somewhere…" It looked at the Hatter then and if it was possible for the bird to look disbelieving, it managed to pull it off. "I never would have expected that it would be you though..."
The Hatter frowned, a look of confusion evident in his mad eyes. "Me?"
"Yes you," said the raven with a firm nod in agreement. "I will warn you that you are not alone in this journey, there are others searching." It gazed down at Helen with a pointed look before it ruffled its feathers again. "It does feel good to be back in Underland though… Years of searching in that blasted Looking- Glass…" It started grumbling to itself before it remembered that it wasn't alone. It blinked and looked at Chessur, its beak rising slightly. "I am called Erom. I can't explain exactly what is happening." It looked down at the sleeping Helen and the look in its eyes grew soft. "I can say this though: Heed her riddles, her rhymes and her songs."
It flew down from its perch on the branch and landed on the ground beside the Hatter, studying the sleeping Helen in the man's arms. "She is mad, but only because she is not herself." It looked up at the Hatter; a pleading could be heard in its musical voice. "Not all of herself." It moved closer to Helen and reached out a wing to brush a few feathers across the burned flesh of her left arm. "I cannot speak while she is awake; I am bound to her as well as to the old spells of this land. However, I will help how I can." It looked up at the Hatter and ruffled its feathers. "Of all the people in Underland, how she had managed to choose someone as mad as you…"
Chessur chuckled at that last remark, ignoring the dark glare Hatter had thrown his way. He looked at the raven named Erom, the strange half story that it had told making very little sense, even in a place such as this. He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms, confused as to how he had managed to get himself involved in something so unknown. The Oraculum should have foreseen this; it should have known that this woman would appear from the Upperland. Why didn't it? Why could this raven not speak of it? What was happening?
"Who is she?" The Hatter asked after a moment, studying the marred flesh of her right cheek and the smoothness of her other. Such a contrast that was on her face, chaos and order, damaged and unscathed…
"She is important," said Erom and backed away from the Hatter, glancing around at the trees as it fluffed itself out. "They're here… You must move quickly, make sure she isn't seen." And with that the ebony bird spread its wings and took to the air, fading from view.
The Hatter did not bother looking to see where the raven had gone, he had a feeling it would be meeting them at the White Queen's castle. The sound of something in the distance caught his ears, a sort of slithering sound, as if something was sliding over the leaves and through bushes.
"We aren't alone here," said Chessur as he appeared above the Hatter's head, looking at the road behind them. "I can't see them but they're there… We should move now Tarrant."
The Hatter studied Helen a moment longer before he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a tiny bottle. He stuck the cork between his yellowed teeth and pulled it out with a pop. He then cradled the sleeping woman's neck and tilted her head back so that her mouth hung open. He poured a little of the contents of the bottle into her mouth, just enough to do the job.
Helen's throat moved of its own accord, the involuntary movement of her muscles shifting beneath olive skin. She coughed once, twice, and soon she began to shrink at a rapid pace. Her robe slipped from her shrinking form and she was soon lost within the folds of her shirt and pants. Her gloves had slipped from her arms and fell to the ground, the burned flesh of her lower arms and hands now visible. It was a terrible and brief sight as she shrunk; the flesh was wrinkled and puckered on her lower arms and her hands looked raw. What had she been through?
Hatter managed to keep a hold on her even as she was shrinking, corking the tiny bottle once more and slipping it back in his pocket. After a moment, her shrinking stopped to a manageable two feet in height. She was tiny enough to keep hidden and there was no fear of her waking up if she was jostled around too much since there was no waking her. He pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut quickly at the excess fabric of her shirt. He did his best to avoid looking at her burnt flesh, a faint touch of a shadow flowing across his pale face as his temper began to rise.
"Tarrant, any time now would suffice." Chessur broke the silence, his luminous eyes glancing down at the small form of Helen and then to the road behind them. "Of course, if you'd rather prefer being alone, I'd be happy to oblige." His grin had turned sly then, a mischievous glint appearing in his gaze as he caught the Hatter's eye.
"I would rather you kept your thoughts focused on other things Chess," he growled, his heavy accent revealing how close to the surface his temper was. He carefully wrapped Helen in her robe and held her against his chest while leaning forward to grab the rest of her clothing. They couldn't leave a trace and there was the hope that they would be safe at the castle of the White Queen.
He glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing on the road or around trees but he sensed that there was something there, lurking just beyond the shadows. His bushy orange eyebrows coming together in a frown, he got to his feet and carefully adjusted so Helen so she wouldn't slip from his grasp. "Remind me when we see that raven to ask it why it is like a writing desk…" His voice was back to its soft and well spoken tone, his temper gone as quickly as it had come, as he started to walk quickly up the road.
Chessur chuckled in reply to this as he followed behind the Hatter. There was something in the air, a sort of buzzing that hummed with the unknown. Whatever it was that was happening, it was an unsettling thought that they had no idea what to do about it or how to handle it…
