Oaths and Power:
(1911 A.D., The Land of Hearts, Wonderland, the Realm of Ishrakie)
"This Saint Belgroth's Day is a dark one indeed. I assume you both have already heard of the atrocity at Fanoth?"
"Aye… The Queen has always been savage, and until now you have been able to keep her mostly in check. But this massacre is beyond the pale. Our intelligence reports are already estimating almost 100 dead and nearly 40 wounded. A majority of the town and crops burned, most of their livestock seized by the Queen," replies Sir Rethinold, his voice heavy.
"You speak the truth, my friend, and the worst part is this was not some dangerous enemy population. This was a town of loyal citizens. And for what? All to find one little girl. Sir Rethinold, Sir Thrain, you both have been my most trusted advisors and closest friends since we were children. You both know I only accepted the Black Crown and the Red Queen's hand so that with any luck I could keep her in some form of control. However, it would appear that hope has failed," continues the Red King.
"You cannot blame yourself, sir. You have done the best you can at keeping her wicked cruelty in line," answers Sir Thrain.
"I hope I have. I tell myself I have, but I must confess I am afraid our people will be forced to endure even worse suffering and madness in the future, so long as Queen Adelaide continues to wear the Red Crown. She has corrupted its noble sheen of kindness with the crimson tint of blood. My heart weeps at the slaughter of the good people of Fanoth. This insanity… her insanity has become more than I can bear," the Red King rests his burdened head on Sir Thrain's shoulder, trying to suppress the tears burning at his eyes.
Sir Thrain engulfs his sire in his soothing embrace.
"Your father was a good man and a good king who would have never stood for an act of such heinous barbarism towards the people. Something must be done…" He spits in disgust "Can you believe she sent Sir Brenithol's forces to lead the attack on Fanoth? I mean the man is a monster, Sire. We all know of the horrifically deviant appetites he has towards the children and the womenfolk of those he is sent to attack, and the reports suggest Fanoth was no different," chimes in Sir Rethinold with a voice of anger and disgust.
"Indeed, the Red Diamond Army was once such a noble brotherhood, but now under Queen Adelaide, they've become nothing but a pack of bloodthirsty beasts, and Sir Brenithol is the worst among them," responds Sir Thrain as the Red King raises his head, straightening up.
"Aye… Brenithol is an abomination. My father would have dealt with him harshly the moment his dark nature showed itself. The three of us have always known since we first met Queen Adelaide that if she ever took her late mother's place as the Red Queen of Hearts, it would surely lead to Civil War."
Sir Rethinold and Sir Thrain both nod at the Red King's words.
"Are you saying it is time for us to make good on the oath we took so long ago, sire?" asks Sir Rethinold.
"I am indeed," replies the Red King, his voice burdened with the dire weight of the matter. He sighs deeply in surrender to the moment that has finally come to them.
"What's our first step, sire?" asks Sir Thrain.
"We go to see an old friend and reclaim the gift my father left me," answers The Red King as he and his companions speed off towards someplace they hoped they would never need to visit ever again.
******
"I hate this place… coming here… even after all these years, still brings a bitter chill to my bones," whispers the Red King as an icy shiver of past trauma creeps through him.
"The years have done nothing to help the smell; the air is still as putrid as ever," remarks Sir Thrain, unable to hide his revulsion as he raises his cloak to his mouth.
"Let's just hope she is in a pleasant mood or the smell will be the least of our worries," replies Sir Rethinold.
"Agreed my friends, after all, without her help all our efforts to stop the Red Queen will be in vain. Heed my words, be alert but above all be respectful, lest we anger her. One last thing, we may not know what to expect, but no matter what happens, take no action against her unless I give the word."
After about another fifteen minutes of swift riding, the three, at last, come to a stop before a large, putrid bog drenched in deep shadow. They dismount from their steeds.
The Red King takes a moment to compose himself before stepping cautiously towards the shore of the foul mire. He kneels in respect at the bog's edge, sensing a presence he had hoped to never feel again drawing closer.
"Oh, great old one. It is I, the boy you once in your infinite compassion saved. I come to you now, a humble king on bended knee in this abode of your slumber. Please hear my words and reveal yourself for I am in need of your help once again, in this dire hour, when my kingdom stands on the precipice. I cannot do this alone. I need you… now more than ever.''
Silence sweeps across the whole of the forest as the pleading voice of the Red King settles upon the bog. Then it happens, the air sparks and crackles as tiny streaks of lightning dance around the surface of the marsh, sparks of electricity fade beneath the surface bringing it to boil until at last from out of the centre of the bog rises the crawling sporadically spasming form of a gaunt decaying woman, her flesh a stony dull grey bound tight around her mangled form.
"Poor child. Dying child. Saved child. Grown, so grown. Strong heart, righteous king against the wicked madness. Darkness… darkness draws close… war lurking in the dawn," responds the strange woman, her jerking body crawling rapidly like a surging mass of bent limbs and twisted flesh towards the young man knelt before her.
Her body reeks of wretched rot as she closes in; face to face with the young king. She places her hands softly on his face, lifting him to his feet as she stands, her naked maggot-infested body pressed sensually against him. The Red King continues to stare at her, unwavering, mesmerised by her dark, void-like eyes.
"My father came to you long ago… he gave you something to give to me," whispers the Red King softly into her ear as she tightens their embrace even further.
"Scared father. Dead father, sacrificed. Oath, crystallised in blood. Wish given form. Great power, gift for son," responds the strange woman, her putrescent breath bitter cold against his flesh.
"The hour has come, great witch… the Red Queen's madness must be stopped," responds the Red King, his hands resting against the small of her back.
"Blood... blood of father. Given in exchange. Great Power offered in return. Drink in blood, drink in power. A kiss make us stronger. A kiss makes us one. Forever bound… forever one," whispers the strange woman as she pulls the Red King into a deep, passionate kiss.
The Red King squirms at the feeling of worms in his mouth. The Red King surrenders himself to her as the deep feeling of revulsion that had filled him gives way to a rush of radiant power swelling up inside him. The power is vast, unlike anything he has ever felt before. His mind sinks and fades into the abyss, accepting it… becoming it. Reality bleeds back into form as his mind jolts back into its fleshy temple.
The Red King's eyes open to see the rejuvenated and lively form of the bog witch. Her beauty was far beyond any he had ever set eyes on. He quivers at the warm touch of her nude body pressed against him. Together they stand, separate bodies, but one will and one mind. The Red King turns to face his companions once again.
"It's good… so very good. You have no idea how wonderful it is to no longer be bound to this disgusting swamp and that rotting flesh-sack of a body," muses the strange woman in a tone dripping with seductive pleasure.
"Perhaps you would honour us with an introduction?" presses Sir Thrain.
The strange woman's eyes dart to him, sizing him up and down.
"What you call me is unimportant, what matters is the contract I made with your king's father to serve his son with all the power of my being in exchange for his father's soul and I am bound by the all-powerful Neo-Sephrian Dark to honour that contract," answers the strange woman.
"But we must have something to call you," presses the Red King.
"Very well master, then you may call me Erithell," declares Erithell with a respectful yet playful curtsy to the Red King.
"I see. You don't trust me. Much fear I sense from you," continues Erithell, casting her eyes upon the Red King's two companions.
"How can we? You are a demon, a monster. Evil is your nature," responds Sir Rethinold.
"Luckily, I do not require your trust. I only live to serve my master. His will is my will and his wish is my wish. Bound forever in blood and soul." Erithell wraps her arms around the Red King from behind lovingly.
"Well then, my friends, we have chosen our path and now we must walk it. Erithell, I have your first order. We must return to the castle to prepare certain matters," chimes in the Red King.
"I want you to use all your haste to assemble the names on this list and make sure that they all arrive at the specified location by nightfall tomorrow by the Order of the King. Tell them this meeting is top-secret and they are to discuss it with no one, not even the Queen. If they need convincing, tell them I seek to put an end to their nightmares, but I cannot do it alone," continues the Red King, pulling a scroll from his coat and handing it to Erithell.
"As you wish master, it will be done," responds Erithell, bowing low to her new master before vanishing in a bright purplish flash of light.
"Now for you two," says the Red King, turning to his companions, "I want you to proceed to the Old Royal Hunting Lodge and wait for me. I will return swiftly to the Castle to gather up some supplies and to inform the Queen that we are taking an extended hunting trip and will be back once the season has passed."
The companions nod and salute before riding off into the woods as quickly as their horses will carry them.
*******
"How is the game, my love?" asks the Red King, leaning over and placing a soft, loving kiss on the Red Queen's cheek. The Red Queen adjusts her stance to better her next shot. The flamingo fidgets nervously in her group.
"Dreadfully, I have already had to execute four of my mallets," replies the Red Queen.
"Perhaps all the stress from dealing with this situation concerning that girl has thrown off your game slightly," muses the Red King, tenderly massaging his wife's shoulders for a moment.
"It pains me to my core knowing she is out there. Every day of her continued existence is a defiance of my authority as Queen," growls the Red Queen, shrugging off the Red King's hands.
"Of course it is. I have come to collect some supplies. My men have suggested that we take a small hunting trip. It has been a while since I spent any real time with them as a king should. We will be back once the season has passed. Is there anything I can do for you before I go," continues the Red King.
"Yes, tell the Mallet Boy to bring some more. I have the feeling these ones will be joining their fallen friends very soon," answers the Red Queen menacingly.
"As you wish, my love. I shall fetch the boy immediately." The Red King turns to proceed inside the palace when suddenly a massive blinding bolt of light strikes the ground between him and the Red Queen.
"What strange bewilderment is this?" mutters the Red King as his vision starts to return, revealing the strange gaunt form of a mysterious orange and black-clad stranger standing between him and the Red Queen.
"Soldiers seize that stranger," orders the Red Queen, fuming with rage at the unexpected intrusion.
The Piper reaches his hand towards the guards causing them to spontaneously incinerate on the spot.
"Now… certainly that is enough of that, wouldn't you agree my dear Queen… After all, you would run out of men long before I ran out of power and why fight when deals can be so much more advantageous to all parties involved," declares the Piper, bowing low to the Red Queen.
"Excuse me, stranger, but have you a name?" presses the Red King stepping toward the Piper, hand on his sword.
"Many and none, but for you, the Piper will suffice. However, my name is not nearly as important as the deal I bring and the power I offer to you, my most honorable Red Queen," proceeds the Piper, rising from his bow and retrieving a scroll from the inside of his coat.
"Speak quickly, Piper, and pray I like what I hear," demands the Red Queen coldly.
"Of course… Let's start with that pest of a girl who has your sultry bosom in such a tizzy. You want her dead but think about it. Even if she dies, she is just a symptom, an omen of the larger problem. Is she not? You know as well as I do that the real problem is the widespread festering of disloyalty in the hearts of your people. You are a good and gracious queen who strives to enrich the lives of all her citizens and how do they repay you?" proclaims the Piper pacing back and forth before her.
The Red Queen's stare intensifies as she listens to the Piper.
"They repay you with lies, deceit, and anger. They are ungrateful and therefore unworthy of all the grand prosperity and blessings you offer. Their petulance must be punished and their scheming ring-leaders crushed."
Anger brings the Red Queen's blood to boiling point.
"You deserve better. All Wonderland should do more than bow to your greatness. They should worship you for the veritable goddess that you are. That is why I am here to humbly offer you the power to once and for all stamp out the treasonous spirit that infects your lands. The Power to bring all of Wonderland to heel under your overwhelming might. The power to make your reign absolute and eternal," proclaims the Piper, gesturing with grandiose flare.
"And what, good Piper, would you want in return for this great gift of power," counters the Red Queen.
"Me… I simply want you to be the most powerful queen you can be. I want you to rule all of Wonderland with a mighty fist and then, one day when the time is right, I will ask you for just one simple thing," answers the Piper.
"And what would that be?" presses the Red Queen, her brow rising with suspicion.
"To join me in the most glorious battle of all time, and when it's over, you will be even stronger than you were before, and our deal will be complete. However, my dear Red Queen, I am afraid I cannot offer you any time to think about this, for I am needed elsewhere. I assume my terms are not too steep?" answers the Piper, opening the scroll and presenting it to the Red Queen, revealing it to be some sort of contract.
"No… no, they are not," replies the Red Queen, her paranoia reinforcing her certainty on the matter.
"Excellent," declares the Piper as he presents the Red Queen with a magnificent quill pen.
"Then all that is required is your signature," directs the Piper, gesturing towards the spot on the scroll that she is to sign.
The Red Queen signs. The letters stain the parchment red. Once the signing is done, the Piper re-pockets the scroll with a gleeful jig.
"Fantastic. Now the first power I offer is the magical, and the second is the political. Here, take this. It is the Ring of Zellahestra. It is a powerful relic, so wear it always. The stone in this ring has amazing power and so long as you wear it the magic already given to you by your queenly position will be increased a hundredfold," chatters the Piper, presenting a silver shimmering ring embedded with a bright crimson stone to the Red Queen.
"As for the political power I offer, it comes in the form of an alliance between you and another leader of great power from the lands far beyond the western horizon of your kingdom. I will arrange a meeting for the two of you, at which time you may cement the terms of your alliance. The meeting will be arranged to take place in two days. Until then, take some time to acquaint yourself with your newfound magical power granted by that ring," suggests the Piper.
"Very well, I will await the meeting at which I will consider solidifying this alliance you seek for me," answers the Red Queen with a subtle nod.
"Wonderful. Now, unfortunately, I must bid you farewell for now. See you soon, dear Queen," responds the Piper, taking a few steps back, bowing one last time to the Red Queen and then vanishing in another bright flash of light.
******
After miles of walking, Alice stumbles exhausted into a small meadow. She climbs a mossy boulder and endeavours to take a nap on its soothing sun-warmed surface. Reaching the top of the boulder, she sees a nearby family of something like a deer, grazing on long grasses. There are three full-grown ones and two young ones. They have shaggy fur like a goat, but are tall and lean like deer. She watches them waiting for one or all of them to pull out hats, cups and sugar cubes and have a tea party, but defying her expectations, they instead continue their mundane chewing.
Alice removes her shoes in order to rest her feet more comfortably, only to find that she barely recognises her own shoes. When she came to Wonderland, they were black and shiny with single straps held by silver buttons. Now they are scuffed, mud-caked. The straps of her shoes dangle by ligaments of torn thread. She reckons the silver buttons of her shoes are now most likely adding their glint to the wall. Her feet unfold as she frees them. They seem at least two inches longer than she remembers.
Alice jumps, startled, almost falling off her perch on the boulder as from the edge of the clearing zips a black streak. The goat-deer scatter! One of the young ones stumbles. The black streak pounces into view, revealing itself to be a massive wildcat. The monstrous cat's fangs sink deep into the young goat-deer's neck as it tries to clamber back to its feet. For a minute, the young goat-deer struggles, squirming in the crushing jaws of the brutal predator. Alice dares not move. Terror clenching her breast.
The big cat rips away chunks of the animal's flesh, covering its mouth and whiskers in blood and clumps of fur. The other goat-deer linger at the edge of the clearing, taking cautious nibbles of grass. They graze uneasily as they stare on, watching their kin be devoured. They don't seem sad, none of them speak up or fight. Alice sees only fear in their eyes. Fear that they are next. Rather than give up the soft grass for the roughage in the forest, they graze beside their killer in a constant state of terror.
Hunkering low on the rock, Alice tries to put her shoes back on. It is impossible. Her feet will not fit. She climbs back down quietly and sneaks away from the clearing. The big cat does not notice her.
Later on, Sister Butterfly finds her next to a stream scooping water into her mouth. Alice tells her the story of the big cat eating the goat-deer. They both agree the other goat-deer were stupid and should have either banded together and fought back against the big cat or moved away from it altogether. It was not proper to have lunch next to a fresh crime scene. The butterfly describes big cities in the forest, abandoned for who knows how long. There she found nectar that made her grow to the size of a whale and fly above the city up into the stars. She promises to bring Alice some of the nectar the next time she visits. Sister Butterfly lands on her nose and flaps there. Their version of kissing a friend goodbye. Then she flaps away between the trees.
Alice sees signs of predators everywhere as she presses onward. Blood trails. Chewed bones. Giant spider web. Miles of forested hillocks pass her by in paranoid sprints. She moves like a mouse, taking quick steps and then lifting her nose to the wind. She eats wild zucchini and boysenberries and is constantly hungry for the first week; fighting against exhaustion, wildlife, and new bodily sensations. Her newly tender breasts feel sore and irritated at a near-constant basis and to her surprise they increasingly seem to be sticking out far more than she is comfortable with, making her feel somehow increasingly exposed.
On the eighth day of walking with no aim except the vague pulling of her intuition, she finds a path. Choosing a direction, she follows it. The trodden dirt is a welcome change for her bruised and scratched bare feet.
Half a mile down, the path forks. Down one path, Alice hears running water and turns towards it, proceeding forward. The path opens onto a rock ledge with a stream angling in from the other direction. The stream tumbles down the ledge into a lagoon. She drinks and drinks, dunking her head and flinging her once golden curls until they plaster themselves across her wet face. To her surprise, she spots a young girl sleeping on her side next to the water.
"Hello? Are you sleeping?"
No answer.
Alice wrings out her hair and walks toward the other girl.
"Hello! Are you from this place? Wake up, please," the girl is wearing a pink dress with a white apron-style front built into it. The dress is torn, reeks of mildew, and has innumerable stains. She reaches down and shakes the girl's shoulder.
"I'm sorry to wake you but…" the sleeping girl's head flops to the side, hanging onto the neck by only a thin strip of skin and carotid artery. Alice screams, scrambling back.
She looks like me! She looks like me! It is me! Every function inside her shuts down except one… running. Alice flees in terror, passing branches scratching her arms and legs, but she feels none of it. Her vision tunnels as she runs as fast as her legs will carry her back the way she came. Upon returning to the fork in the path, she bolts down the other direction, not caring where it leads. The other path eventually opens up into a thick patch of white-barked trees where the path widens.
Breathing deep, her lungs fill with the stench of bread as she continues down the path. Slowly, dense trees give way to small cottages. The network of small cottages swarm with busy, scurrying people going about their daily errands. Normal people, normal-sized heads, not animals.
I'm back in England… That's why this place seems so normal. I've woken up. I'm back in England, thinks Alice, desperate for it to be true. They will help me get home. They will help me. Alice skips gleefully deeper into the village to ask for directions.