Once It Gets Dark Ch. 06

I wiped away the tears as we turned onto the street next to the park, where the Veril's main military base in the capital had been set up. The adrenaline rushing through me when I saw the checkpoint helped me to compose myself a little; I could not afford the luxury of a mental breakdown right now. I needed to stay alert while I was being dragged away into the General's world--the General who was sitting silently at my side, still too close to me. His presence was all-encompassing, like a black hole, making me gravitate towards him. At least he was focusing on something else and didn't have his hands on me for once.

The street was blocked by a provisory wall reaching up to the height of a human's shoulders, made out of a strange combination of wire, sand bags, and plants that grew in thick and twisting thorny vines over the barricade.

Some of the plants were emitting the strange blue undulating glow that I had come to associate with Veril magic, and I remembered the stories about Sleeping Beauty's castle, surrounded by vines that would ensnare anyone who came too close to them, trapping them to die a gruesome death in their thorns.

We drove straight on, and to my complete fascination, the plants untangled themselves and parted as soon as the car in front of us had reached them, revealing an opening between the wall of sandbags, and I was starting to believe that all the stories were true after all.

The heavily armed Veril warriors standing guard in front and behind the barricade--some of them carrying guns, others crossbows--had stepped aside and saluted by moving their right fist towards their hearts in one simultaneous motion. I shivered as I realized that the man next to me commanded all of them. I glanced over to him, but he was merely looking ahead, seemingly unimpressed by what was going on.

Cold dread took a hold of me as we crossed into Veril territory, and I had to fight down the panic rising in my stomach.

I dug my nails into the fabric of the seat, as if holding on to it could keep me from being dragged deeper into this place that had once been a normal part of the city but was now so strange to me that it might as well have been the Veril dimension itself.

My arm brushed against the General's leg, and he looked down at my tense fist grasping the seat.

"You have nothing to fear of my soldiers when you are with me," he said, placing his hand on mine.

My skin tingled at the contact. I was getting really tired of my body's reaction to him, but I didn't dare to pull away. Why did he always have to touch me?

"I'm more afraid of you than of your soldiers, Gen... Shenik Tsul." My response was almost a whisper.

His eyes narrowed as he fixed me with his gaze. "I see," was all he said in reply.

After a moment of silence, I asked, "How did the soldiers know that it was you?"

I hadn't seen any insignia on the vehicles that could have identified our convoy as the cars of General Tsul.

He laughed a little. "You are scared of me, yet you are so comfortable asking crucial information about the organization of my army?"

I thought that this would be the only reply I was going to get: insinuations and enigmas, as always. But then he pulled the right sleeve of his uniform up to his elbow, exposing the faintly glowing marks running all over the green skin of his muscular forearm.

The General leaned over to me and smiled. It was the same pleased expression he'd had when he explained why killing with a blade was better than with a gun. I shivered, not sure if I even wanted to hear the explanation. His thoughts and views were a constant reminder of how different he was from a human man.

"My soldiers know it is me because they can feel it through the mark of the Kirtim Shenk." He took my hand, which had still been trapped under his, and guided my fingers over his arm until they came to rest close to his elbow on a symbol composed of a half circle sitting on a thin line inside of a full circle.

The glow of the marks rippled almost imperceptibly under my touch, like water in a breeze. Fascinated, I explored them with my hand, letting my fingertips trace the slight elevations on his soft skin. They felt like scars, and I remembered how it had stung when he marked my face. These seemed somehow deeper and more permanent.

"Did they hurt?" I asked him.

His smile grew wider, revealing his pointy teeth and lighting up his face. He was so beautiful that I felt the urge to kiss him and forgive everything he had ever done--to me as well as to the world.

"Oh, so much. You have no idea, my sweet." He laughed. "But of course it is a great honor," he said, lowering the corners of his mouth mockingly.

"Don't you think so?" I asked him; he had peaked my curiosity.

"Where I come from, a man without marks is not a man. So it is really not a question of what I do or do not think about them. Besides, they are undeniably useful."

I shuddered as I recalled that the marks on both of his arms reached up as high as his shoulders. How much pain had he endured to get them? I shook my head. Too bad; it served the asshole right. But still, I couldn't keep from running my fingers over his skin.

I took my time studying the symbols and inhaled sharply as I recognized one of them: three lines below a three-pointed zigzag topped with four small circles. I looked at the General as the image of red lines on a white cloth fluttering in the wind above Hamburg's City Hall flashed before my inner eye.

"Tsul," he said simply. "The first mark we get is our family name. And I got this one a few weeks later." He pulled up his other sleeve and showed me the mark of the Kirtim Shenk, which was repeated on his left arm.

I raised my eyebrows, and he caught my gaze, just smiling down at me for a while.

"Ch'ish, you are so sweet, mishtz'in. All the things I am going to do with you."

I glared at him, but his eyes narrowed. A warning reminding me to stay nice and obedient if I didn't want to make the powerful General angry.

"Do you long to be disciplined again, keltz'in?" he said his voice was low and almost hopeful.

The car shook a little and saved me from giving him a reply that I would have regretted later. Startled, I looked out of the window and saw that we were on top of some sort of embankment, crossing a deep ditch that ran off to infinity on the left and right sides of our cars. In front of us, like a wall of darkness, rose a three-meter-high hedge composed of the same plants I had seen at the checkpoint earlier, only thicker and thornier.

"Try to restrain your excitement, my sweet. We have reached Volkspark Friedrichshain," the General smirked as the vines revealed a craftily forged bronze gate that now blocked one of the former entrances and had definitely not been there when I visited the park last fall. The detailed and organic Veril structures posed a surreal contrast to the gray, uniform cement of the large apartment blocks behind us. It was truly like the frontier between two worlds.

Our car came to an abrupt halt, propelling me forward a little bit, and I reflexively grabbed the General's strong arm for support. Three Veril soldiers carrying assault rifles had appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of the first car, forcing the driver to stop.

The General spoke a low order to Vik Ichel, and the colonel got out of the car in one rapid movement. I watched interestedly as the sentinels greeted him with a salute. They exchanged some words, and the three soldiers looked very uncomfortable. The General to my right grunted in annoyance, placed my hand that had still been holding on to his arm on my thigh, and opened his door.

When he stepped outside, I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, assuming that I was supposed to follow, but he turned back to me, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Stay," he ordered, and slammed the door shut.

I breathed out as I watched him walk away, his gait graceful despite how large he was. It was the first time tonight that he was not around me--on top of me, inside of me, touching me, ordering me around, teasing me--and I felt my mind and body relax a little.

I looked through the window. The soldiers were standing tall, at attention heels together and fists on their hearts as they were saluting. Their bulky shapes would have been menacing had it not been for the General standing in front of them; his whole demeanor left no doubt about who was in power. If the soldiers had looked uncomfortable talking with Vik Ichel before, now it seemed like they wished for the vines behind them to swallow them forever.

The sentinel in the middle gestured apologetically in my direction, apparently trying to explain something, and I saw the blue light of the cars reflecting as he handed something shiny to the General, who nodded once and returned.

I was about to buckle my seatbelt again, but instead of going to his seat, he opened my door, yanked me out by my wrist, and pulled me towards the sentinels. The grip of his strong fingers was biting into my already bruised skin. I really wanted to protest as I stumbled behind him, the hard earth and stones of the street stinging my bare feet, but I was sure that the General would not tolerate any disrespect, especially not in front of his subordinates. The soldiers stood straight and saluted again.

My stomach twisted at the thought of how pathetic I must be looking in their eyes--dirty, abused, and almost naked--truly nothing but a toy for the mighty General. He pulled me closer; his face was expressionless, but my eyes widened when I saw that what he was holding in his other hand was a delicate silver knife. For a terrible moment, I believed he was going to kill me right then and there.

When the General moved, it was faster than my eyes could see. He twisted my wrist so that my hand was facing upwards and dragged the blade across my palm. He had been so quick that the pain didn't hit me until seconds later. I bit my tongue at the sharp burn, not wanting to give the General the satisfaction of a scream. But he gently caressed my wrist with his thumb, and my hairs stood up at the unexpected softness of his touch.

One sentinel stepped closer, holding a delicate vial. He was about to seize my arm, but the General hissed a harsh order that made the soldier freeze in place as if he had run into an invisible wall. He bowed deeply and handed the little bottle over to his commander.

The General twisted my wrist, making the blood drip down my palm into the dusty ground below us. I felt the warmth as one of the drops hit my foot. He caught some of it in the vial and handed it back to the sentinel, who bowed again. I wanted to roll my eyes, but the soldier had turned to me.

"Shutin," he said.

I looked back at him, confused. I had been preoccupied with the cut. I tried to lift my hand a little in the hope it would make the bleeding stop. The soldier took a step back, like he was scared I could touch him.

"Shutin--name," he repeated; his heavy Veril accent was prominent even in the short word.

"Oh," I responded, clearing my throat. "Neumann Anna."

I was somewhat proud of myself for remembering to say my surname first in the manner of the Veril. The soldier looked at the General for confirmation. Apparently, I, a puny human, could not even be trusted to know my own name.

The General shook his head, and I stared at him in disbelief.

"Tsul Anna," he corrected in a low voice, drawing out the 's' in his own name. The hissing sound made a shiver run down my spine.

The sentinel just nodded and spoke the name that was supposed to be mine into the vial. The bottle glowed for a second, and he stored it in a big wooden chest.

"My name is not Tsul," I whispered, trying to suppress my anger as I sat back in the car, pressing my injured palm against my shirt.

The General ignored my complaint completely and motioned towards my seatbelt with an elegant twist of his hand and an annoyed smile on his lips.

I buckled up and repeated desperately, "Did you hear me, Shenik? My name is Neumann, not Tsul." My voice was breaking a little.

The General scoffed and gave me a bored look, as if he were debating whether the topic was even worth an answer.

"Not anymore, Annatz'in. You belong to me, and you will be called whatever name I decide to give you." He studied my angry face, and his golden cat-like eyes narrowed in a cruel smile. "I was actually debating whether to call you kel. Would you have liked that better?"

I glared at him and opened my mouth to protest, but then I closed it again. I realized that there was nothing I could say; that was not a really bad idea.

"See, that is what I thought," he replied, and petted my cheek patronizingly with the backside of his crooked index finger. "Be happy that I granted you the infinite privilege of bearing my name, and keep your sweet little lips quiet about the matter."

I had never felt the urge to hit anyone before, but at this very moment, I wanted nothing more than to slap him across his smug, handsome face.

My musings were interrupted by our convoy starting to move again. The bronze gates swung open with a metallic hum, and I caught a glimpse of the intricate shapes of plants and animals that had been forged into the bars. As we passed through, I felt a slight resistance in the air and thought I could make out a faint glow in the air--the Veril had protected their Main Base with more than just ditches, gates, and hedges.

The General had thankfully directed his attention elsewhere and was talking with his colonel in a low voice. I could hardly see anything as we drove deeper into the park except for twigs and leaves--and what looked like the outline of huts. I caught the smell of trees and plants; everything seemed a lot more overgrown than it had been the last time I visited, but in the dark it was hard to tell. In front of us, another big road crossed ours--it was the only other street I had seen so far, even though I was fairly sure that before there had been many paths and footways through the Volkspark.

We were going uphill for a while and then stopped in front of a crossroads, behind which lay a clearing illuminated by the almost full moon and millions of gleaming stars. I stared at the sky in awe--how was such a clear night possible in the middle of the capital? Was I even still in the human world?

The General turned to me and said, "So, mishtz'in, does the park meet your high expectations?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Actually, yes," I replied truthfully. "It's beautiful."

Beautiful, foreign, and dangerous--just like he was.

The General and his colonel had already gotten out of the car in their swift Veril way while I was still fumbling for my tote bag that lay crumpled somewhere to my feet. He walked around the car, opened my door, and gave me a little mocking bow as he invited me to step out. My knees were shaking a little as I stepped on the wet grass of the clearing. I was afraid of losing my nerves again and took a deep breath of the strange forest air that was so much more wild and savage than a city park should be.

The clearing lay on top of a hill and was framed by round tents, each the size of a small hut, between which different Veril warriors were going about their nightly business, some of them busily walking around, others eating or talking. When the General took a step away from the car, the camp fell silent, and it was like a wave went through the soldiers as each one stopped what they were doing, straightened up, turned towards us, and saluted. A shiver went down my spine, and I felt myself blushing with everybody looking at us.

The General gently placed his hand on the small of my back, and I was actually grateful for his touch. It was strangely calming to have his menacing presence behind me, and above all, I really appreciated not being pulled around by my sore wrists for once.

I felt the collective eyes of the Kirtim Shenk looking at us as he guided me to the tent at the backmost center of the clearing. Vik Ichel and the guards from our escorting cars had fallen into a kind of formation behind us. My shirt was riding up a little under the General's palm, and I nervously pulled down the now blood-stained fabric with my injured hand holding my bag in the other.

The General's tent was the same build and size as the others; there were no decorations, symbols, or indications of its importance except for the central position in the camp and the guards stationed around the sides.

As we arrived, Colonel Vik Ichel and the Shadow Guards disappeared into darkness while the rest of the soldiers guarding the tent saluted. Some of them stole a glance at me, and I saw a hint of surprise in their eyes. The General lifted the fabric covering the entrance, and I stepped inside the Butcher's tent like a lamb being led to slaughter.

All of a sudden, I was engulfed by an even deeper darkness, the only light coming from the stars shining through a small circular opening in the middle of the ceiling.

He moved so silently that I didn't hear him entering behind me. I could only sense his presence, and now alone with the demon in the dark, I was really getting scared. All the time at my house, I had somehow trusted that the Treaty, while not exactly ensuring my wellbeing, was at least keeping me safe from more severe harm. But now I realized that there was nothing protecting me anymore. He could force me to do things more terrible than my imagination could fathom, and there was nothing and nobody who could stop him. The panic that I had been fighting down until we got here rose to my throat until it felt like I couldn't breathe anymore.

"I can't see anything!" I gasped.

There was a clicking sound as he created a spark with a set of stones and flicked it into the fire pit in the middle of the tent. The flames came to life faster than I had ever seen, and soon the inside was illuminated by the flickering light. I tried to breathe steadily, taking in my surroundings to ground myself.

The tent was a lot bigger than I had expected--the size of a large bedroom. It was made out of a wooden frame that was covered with felt-like fabric from the outside. The walls went up at a straight angle from the ground and were high enough that even the tall General could walk around without a problem. On top of the wall sat a wheel-like roof with beautifully carved spokes running towards an open circle like a crown, which was supported by four wooden pillars framing the fireplace in the center.

The whole space was somehow... cozy. It was simple yet warm and homely, and I couldn't help but admire the beautiful craftsmanship of all the Veril-made objects I had seen so far.

I concentrated on breathing steadily in and out before I dared to look at the General. He was standing next to the crackling fire, the flames creating a flickering halo behind his broad silhouette.

"Calm yourself, mishtz'in. You have been in my control the entire night; if I wanted to harm you, I would have done it already instead of dragging you into the middle of my war camp first," he said, somewhat annoyed.

The General stepped closer. A powerful warrior illuminated by the firelight, just like he had been when Hamburg's streets had burst into flames. He looked inhumanly beautiful and deadly in his uniform. I needed to relax, but I couldn't.

I knew that right now the best option for my safety was to not make him angry and to comply--until I found a way to escape. But just one glimpse at him made me panic again.

I breathed in and looked him in the eyes; he was so handsome, with his regal features somehow enhanced by the scar. The scar...

'Don't think about where he got that scar,' I reminded myself.

He slowly stepped towards me, fixing his golden eyes on mine, and I didn't lower my gaze, even though I was shaking from fear. When he was right in front of me, his body mere millimeters away, I gathered my courage and ran my hand through his short black hair. It was incredibly soft, and he inhaled when I gathered it in my fist and pulled him down to kiss me, my bag dropping to the floor.