The Price of Pain (16)

I became aware of light. Then I became aware of pain.

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I became aware of light. The darkness might have been eternal, but the light proved the falseness of that fear. The light seemed to bind me back into time itself, to mortality, to life.

I became aware of pain, a great wracking throb, like every part of me was simultaneously squashed and stretched out almost to breaking point.

My breath caught in my throat. The scent of some sweet flower, perhaps jasmine.

My lungs burned, my brain pulsated, the pain ebbed and flowed like the tides, perhaps with the beating of my heart. 

"Ah, you are alive."

I'd just come to this very conclusion.

"Wh—uh." Speech was beyond me.

"Where? Safe in my burrow. Never fear."

My eyes wouldn't open. I couldn't quite force my eyelids apart.

I dreamed. 

Father, crackling with otherworldly energies, standing over a blackened charred mess. The smell of bacon. Horror crawled over me as I realized this was Mother. "You did this," whispered my brother's disembodied voice. I whirled. Old Master Grake formed out of black smoke, and sneered. "Your father was right about you." 

A rainbow of light dispersed the smoky apparition. 

"It will hurt." The Faerie's voice echoed back and forth. "Perhaps more than you thought possible."

Laughter, a sweet, babbling, familiar sound. Aine, standing in front of a dawn sky, long graceful curls limned in light. She jumped, falling into the light as if from some great height. The light flared, consuming everything, consuming me.

"Welcome back."

I opened my eyes and immediately doubted what they told me. The light was much the same whether my eyes were open or closed. I couldn't decide whether I was wrapped in a glowing blanket or in the middle of some cavernous hall.

What is this place?

"I told you, it's my burrow. You should really try to pay more attention."

I gasped in a spasm of pain.

"I did warn you about that."

I grunted.

"Here. Drink this."

Something like an alchemist's flask appeared before me. Although "down" seemed to be below me, and the flask looked ready to empty itself onto me, the liquid did not pour out of the clear spout.

It makes no sense.

"Does it have to?"

A childish fear gripped me. An old tale, a warning about accepting gifts from Faeries, about unwitting bargains and obligations.

Zhalghumi chuckled. "Not every tale is true."

I wasn't much reassured. 

"Although," the Faerie continued," many contain some truth. There is a contract between us. You have completed your part of it, and now I must complete mine. Drink."

I drank. Although it looked like water, the taste was sweet, pungent, and intoxicating.

I fell into a stupor.

No dreams came this time. Sometimes I floated, at others I flew. Sometimes there were colour, or shapes, or ethereal forms I couldn't quite bring into focus. But it wasn't a dream. More like another state of awareness. Of which I wasn't truly aware, or comprehending, until some time later.

I awoke to a feeling of utter contentment and wholeness. I felt sated, satiated, spent, yet invigorated. For some reason, I thought of Aine again. And she became, quite predictably, the cloud that ruined the perfect moment.

I sat up, or tried to. I was seated upon nothingness, and had nothing to push away from. 

"You seem to be feeling better!" Zhalghumi emerged from behind me, and hung in the air before my eyes. 

I smiled. I couldn't help it. The perfect moment threatened to seduce me again, with Zhalghumi's shining presence, but he put a stop to it. All colour drained from Zhalghumi's form, and the light around him faded. 

I met his eyes.

"You need to focus. Without distraction. You are healed. Our contract is ended, concluded, satisfactorily to both parties, I hope?"

I considered. "I feel ... good."

"Excellent. Thank you for all your help. I truly couldn't have done it without you. But now I have important details to attend to. Farewell, mage."

I gasped. "But I—"

And it was already too late. Zhalghumi was gone, along with his light-filled burrow. Or rather, I was gone. I found myself a short distance above the ground, surrounded by wind and rain and flashing lightning. An instant later, I landed in thick mud with a jolt, my hair plastered against my face, and whipping past my eyes. 

My hair was no longer black; it was white.

Continue reading with Part 17.