“The only truly wise adviser we have is death. Every time you feel how it often happens to you that everything goes wrong and you are on the verge of complete collapse, turn left and ask your death if this is so. And your death will answer that you are mistaken, and that besides its touch there is nothing that really would matter. Your death will say: “But I have not touched you yet!”
Carlos Castaneda.
Part six Chaper one Lis sleeps
Mountains were black, as if covered with soot. A gloomy landscape. On one of the sooty sites in front of the dark pharynx of the cave people were working. People? Liswas not at all sure of this. Wrapped from head to toe in black, clothes as dirty and soiled as everything around, they made up a whole with a bleak landscape. But the outlines of their figures and measured movements still resembled human ones. Lis couldn’t say more precisely which creatures were working there. Slowly, as if they had an eternity in reserve, they rolled some iron barrels into the cave. As black as these mountains, and these entities and this cave, in the depths of which Lis caught a glimpse of the
flame. From time to time its distant but bright reflections burst from the depths, illuminating the arches of the entrance and the platform. In these moments, the creatures froze, as if waiting, then again took up work.
Lis, fascinated, watched their tricky actions. He didn’t know who they were, and what the name of the place was, but he KNEW what was in these barrels! Remains. The human remains.
And these gloomy and detached workers were not people, they could not be people, the world of people remained somewhere there, far, far away, Lis felt it, and an expression involuntarily came to his mind: “Not a single living soul” . So it was. Angels, or demons, in any case, of a lower order, were monotonously rolling barrels into the cave. And
their work had no end.
Lis didn’t smell the decay, the smell of rotting remains of perishing flesh. No. There were no such smells, because in the barrels were not parts of the bodies: arms, legs, tripe. In these terrible vessels of death lay the remains of dead human souls. The human nature itself. The immortal eternal starlet ceased to shine. Eternal? Lis saw now that no. Empty shells, distorted pieces, radiating no more life. Souls: dead, broken, broken, unable to survive, turned into dust.
And therefore, in the air there was no smell of decomposition of flesh, but something much worse – longing. Relentless, all-embracing, bottomless and endless longing. The one that makes you want to howl and tear off the hair on your head. The longing that you will never experience on earth, so hopeless and absolute it was.
Lis squeezed his temples with his hands and closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the obsession, of this all-consuming feeling of longing and hopeless despair. He became scared, very scared from the mere thought that his soul might be there… in one of these barrels.
WAKE UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!
Lis was lying on the bed, breathing heavily and staring into the darkness, but such a familiar darkness of his room.
No, he’s not Arel, he will never scream in his sleep!
And feeling the familiar comfort of his bed, Lis closed his eyes. A heavy dream, yes… But he is not Arel to worry about such nonsense. You
never know what a dream you can see. Does he, who has taken so many stimulants and “drugs” in his life, not know this. He knows in what terrible worlds can lead more than once subjected to correction, and that’s why unbalanced consciousness. So there is no need even to think about it.
He woke up safely and lay in his bed. In his room. And his room is securely locked. He is safe. But…
And Lis felt how cold goose bumps ran down his spine, holding his body in fear, because he very clearly understood now that there was someone else in the room. And this “someone” was lying nearby, right behind him, quietly, not moving. And in a kind of panic, a strange thought occurred in Lis’ head, that if he makes some movement, then this “someone” will move too. And it will be faster.
Lis froze, thinking only that this creature behind him didn’t have to realize that he had already woken up and knew… Knew what?! That in his bed, in which, he perfectly remembered, he lay down alone, now someone else lies? Rave! Complete nonsense! Lis didn’t leave slaves for the night, and when did he have a slave for the last time? Why did he even decide that someone was lying behind him? The whole point was that he didn’t decide. He KNEW.
This is a dream. A damn dream again! And Lis is not Arel to scream… But damn it! How he now wanted to do it!
Drawing himself together instantly, like a cat, like an animal, Lis jumped up. At one jump, away from the bed, pulling the canopy to the side, and at the same time turning around.
Her dark hair was still braided in two tight braids, long to the floor.
Lying on his bed, Shela looked at Lis with strange whitish eyes without pupils.
A match struck, and the darkness of the room was a little diffused by a blinking light. Lis turned to the light, and Nikto saw it. Nikto lit a candle.
“W-what the hell is going on here?” Whispered the Lis.
Nikto shook his head oddly, and laid aside the open book lying on the table. It was a book of Lis. It was very convenient for making various drugs.
“A useful book,” said Nikto, “and a complicated one. However, I never doubted you,” he added, trying to smile. And in the dim light of the candle, his grin turned out to be truly creepy.
Lis staggered back and looked at Shela:
– She…
“She was cold there, in the basement where the servants threw her. At the very bottom. See what the rats did to her?”
Lis with undisguised disgust looked at Shela, at her chewed stumps instead of her hands. Hands that once so gently and skillfully caressed him. Her legs were chopped down to the knees. Exactly chopped off. Lis knew that. Rats could gnaw them, but they would leave bones. And too evenly they were bitten off. Apparently others feasted on her feet. Other, eternally hungry creatures living in this castle, and having maybe even less rights than rats. Slaves of Prince Arel.
Interestingly, do rats eat their own specie? Do they bite off their paws?
She was the same disenfranchised gray shadow, a rat, only in human form. And now she was lying on his bed, dirtying it with black stained blood from vile stumps.
“It's you!” Yelled Lis frantically. “You killed her! Now take her away! Let her bask in your bed! But she has nothing to do with me!”
“Really?” Nikto grunted. “I wonder, and what does she think about it? Maybe we’ll ask her? Let her tell how Arel mocked her. Or how she
