/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\
11
"Paradise is a Watery Grave"
Once again, Tira found herself reduced to something less than human. A servant. A slave. A mere pet. But this time, at least, Zasalamel no longer actively degraded her unless she got in his way. He had raised a new servant from the dead—a skeleton man like something out of a spooky campfire story! "Revenant" he called him. Now her master spent most of his free time perfecting the spell and magic keeping the deteriorating bones animated. So she spent most of her time lying still in the corner of the covered wagon, sleeping. At night she was tied outside and tasked with keeping watch like a guard dog, but that was okay. Revenant kept guard too, but he (it?) got to stand up and make patrols, and she liked looking at the undead abomination. He (it?) was neat.
She was still a slave, still forced to crawl and bark, but at least she wasn't licking boot or being stepped on or insulted or humiliated in town arenas. Besides her three friends stayed with her. When she played guard dog, they'd swoop down and perch on her back and on her head and keep her company. They were such great pals, banding with her even in these dark times.
When morning came, they'd bid farewell and flitter off. Her master would wake up, she'd climb back into the wagon, Revenant would don a cloak and take the reins, and they'd be off again. Then one cold rainy evening she awoke from her nap with a start as Zasalamel callously kicked her out of the wagon and into the muddy road, soaking her instantly. After scrambling and splashing about to get her senses back, she looked up at her master pleadingly, wondering what she'd done. But the Egyptian only pointed …
And when Tira looked around, she found herself by a familiar lake where it always seemed to rain. Dark clouds always hovered overhead. A fog lingered just above the dark waters. "Snake Lake" it had come to be known. First of all, it was a silly name, Tira always thought (but it was fun to say.) Second, it was misnomer, for snakes did not dwell here; however, another breed of reptiles did. A bizarre tribe of feral half-man half-lizard creatures had made their home here by this seemingly haunted body of water. A tribe that seemed to exist in another time—not caring about the treasures of the present world, and the present world did not care about the treasures of the lizardmen. They existed in their own little isolated bubble of utopia, undisturbed … which made their lake the perfect spot to hide something of value.
"Rise, worm," Zasalamel commanded, "go and fetch your weapon."
Tira nodded and stood up. The freezing rain cleansing the mud off her body as she turned and made her way over to the beach. Then she paused—lying in the sand, she spotted three lizardmen, all lying in almost comical positions. The first looked like it had been bopped in the head and fell face first into the mud. The second lay on its back with its arms and legs sticking up in the air. The third one lay in the exact same position a drunken sailor would sit while watching a stripper do her routine. Tira smiled and shook her head. Silly lizards. But then when she looked up she saw more than awkward positions, she saw rain water glistening off rough scales, sharp teeth, and deadly claws. She saw primitive stone and bone weapons at their sides, ready to be snatched up and used on her. She gulped, and started to go around, but—
"What are you doing, slave? I said fetch your weapon!"
Again, Tira gulped, and quietly made her way to the beach … her feet making what felt like super loud squishy sounds as her weight pressed them into the mud, and then when she stepped out it made another super loud suction sound. Squish—shlup! Squish—shlup! The sound echoed in her mind louder than the heavy down poor, and with every step she expected the beasts to wake up and pounce. But she was almost past them. Almost to the water's edge! Almost to safety! Just another ten feet, and—
"Did I say you could take your time?" Zasalamel roared, "Fetch your weapon NOW, slave. NOW!" His angry voice carried across the waters, bounced off their surface, and reflected back in the form of an echo. "Now-now-now-now-now."
Tira closed her eyes.
The lizardmen opened theirs.
"Damn."
Then all at once she sprinted forward. The first lizard snapped up, but she was past him already! The second one saw her coming, and leapt for her. Tira slid on her knees and leaned back, parting the mud and sending a wave of the thick yucky stuff flying to either side of her. Then she hopped up to her feet and kept going. The third and final lizardman swung his club in a massive arc that would've batted her head clean off, and the sly devil also swung his tale low in case his opponent managed to dodge the first blow; however, Tira managed to time a jump just right. Too low for the club to hit, and just high enough to make it over his tail. She rolled, popped up, and (covered in mud) continued sprinting until she was deep enough to dive into the water.
And as always, the temperature of the first three feet was biting cold, the next foot (along her leg) she could feel the temperature of the water rise, and the water below five feet (where her foot could just feel) was quite pleasant. She swam, diving down to the warm waters and swimming for as long as she could hold her breath, then back up to the surface where the colder waters were.
Out of danger and into the fog. Whether these lizard creatures didn't like water, or didn't like these weird eternally-foggy (forever rainy) waters with flaky temperatures, she didn't know. All she knew was, they avoided the lake. Then, after a dozen minutes of swimming guided by the happy chirps of her three friends, she came to "the last stand" as she called it. A metal pole that protruded from the waters, standing quietly amidst the fog. She found her footing on a platform just below the water, and stood up atop the water's surface. Her friends flew down and landed on her, one on either shoulder and one atop her head.
"Thanks. You guys are the bestest!" she said, taking a moment to sigh, unwind, and scratch each beneath their beaks in turn, "I dunno what I'd do without you."
Alone, surrounded by fog and water, rain pouring down, Tira arched her back, stretched her arms, and enjoyed her momentary pause away from her captivity and slavery. Her master would, no doubt, punish her for taking too long, but he'd do that no matter what. Might as well take her time, get something out of this, and deserve the misery. She leaned against the pole, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.
The last stand … an old castle from a long time ago, for whatever reason waters flooded the whole estate—gardens, stables, the structure itself—everything. Now, little remains of the actual building. The wooden doors and furniture had long ago rotted away. The greenery passed away to underwater flora (some of which glowed in the dark!) Much of the stone eroded or crumbled. And now she stood atop one of the last remaining walls of the second floor. She imagined this room used to be a great hall a mighty Lord would bring his guests into to impress them. With her eyes still closed, Tira could imagine large mirrors lined with gold, carefully sculpted statues towering on either side with the massive columns, the floor, walls, and ceiling delicately painted. And dozens and dozens of intricate banners hanging from the poles just like the one she leaned against.
She imagined herself standing in that great room in one of those long flowing dresses with the tight bodice that pushed her breasts together and showed them off. And her hair done up perfectly and held in place with ribbons and a decorative mini-dagger that she could cut rude people's throats with (then cut them again if their blood stained her pretty dress). Tira smiled as her day dream went on to show rich suitors bowing before her, kissing her hand, formally courting her through silly "chivalrous" gestures polite society is known for (which it never actually does, but is known for none-the-less.) She giggled at the thought. She didn't want to live that life by any means; she'd watched other people go through the hollow gestures of going to plays, operas, symphonies, formal parties and gatherings all while a Goddess playing a slave in the Bird of Passage. Nope, not for her. Not in a million billion years. But she always thought it'd be fun to spend a day in that life. If nothing else, just to laugh at everyone and mock them at the end of the day.
Then Tira opened her eyes from her fantastic vision of grandeur to the bleak rainy and foggy reality around her. The pole was bannerless. The Lord's castle lay in a watery grave. Some Lizardmen wanted to kill her, and her evil cruel hateful master wanted to step on her. And despite the doom and gloom, Tira straightened up with a hop, "Well, wish me luck guys!" And as she jumped up to dive into the abyssal waters, her the three black ravens stretched their wings and took flight.
Barely disturbing the lake, Tira's sleek and sexy figure slithered beneath the surface.
Writer's Note:
For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)