The Messenger

At first, I thought I had only imagined it, but they soon did it again. Both weapons were vibrating ever so slightly. My horse was still calm, so whatever was up, it was something it was used to. I looked around and finally discovered a small black spot in the distance. There was nothing else to look at, so I kept watching it.

It seemed to move roughly in the same direction we were. Unfortunately, our paths seemed to converge. That wasn't a problem in itself, I had learned to deal with other people meanwhile. The main problem was that the person seemed just as fucking black as I was. Black was not good. Black was the royal color. Black meant this was almost certainly another messenger. I had no idea how messengers behaved among each other. This meant my thin cover might be blown. Fleeing was no option, as it would give me away immediately. Oh, well. I would come up with something when the time came. And if the weapons thought it was time for me to die, I guess that's what would happen, regardless of anything I did.

For a situation including a potentially upcoming deadly confrontation, the scene was strangely peaceful. Just two persons slowly riding through a deserted, barren landscape, not even looking at each other. Okay, I was just pretending not to look at him, but tried to bend my eyes in new ways, trying to watch him while not moving my head. He just calmly looked ahead. His whole body-language said he was relaxed and confident.

"You seem tense, Abigor," he asked in a high-pitched voice, breaking the silence with after what felt like an eternity. Shit. He hadn't even looked at me. Had he already seen through my disguise? I had heard there were a lot of messengers around. How could he know I was pretending to be Abigor?

I needed to respond somehow, without talking. My voice would immediately reveal my little fraud.

I turned my head around and looked at him in detail for the first time. He looked exactly like I had, when I looked into the mirror, back in the station. I clearly remembered that, but it seemed like another life, like it had happened to a different person.

Not knowing what else to do, I just shrugged and looked ahead again, hoping he wouldn't question me further. The tension was thick by now and I was quite sure one of us would be dead soon. I was rather certain it was going to be me. He certainly was a much more experienced fighter. Hell, I was no fighter at all.

"Abigor," he just said, more forcefully this time, clearly demanding an answer.

I turned my head again and in horror, I looked into the barrel of his gun. I might not be the first messenger impostor, I thought. He didn't seem surprised and had seen through me easily. Shit, how could that be? Even if I survived this, was every royal servant going to see through me as easily? Ordinary people hadn't been suspicious at all.

Damn, this wasn't even important. My impending death was, the finer details would have to wait. I hoped he was just going to arrest me, but wasn't very optimistic.

"Whoever you are, take off your mask. Now."

Reaching my gun before he killed me was out of the question. Shit, after all I got through, it was ending like this? Tears of rage welled up in my eyes. Fuck, this was not fair, but there was nothing I could do.

"Now!"

I felt my hand moving to my face and remove the mask, although I didn't really want to.

Well, he'd seen through my disguise, and the stupid mask was more trouble than it was worth, anyway. I hauled off the mask and shook my head, letting my long hair fall free for the first time in days.

"Interesting. A girl. What did you do to my brother?"

I might have just seconds to live, but I was still relieved. Him being Abigor's brother explained my easily blown cover.

"Your brother was an asshole," I answered with suddenly found defiance in my voice.

He surprised me by chuckling. "No doubt, girl. No doubt about that. Still, he was a messenger and he was my only brother. You saying 'was' tells me he's dead. Care to tell me how he died?"

Why not? "He tried to rape me and I killed him. I cut his throat. I killed him like the animal he was."

Again surprising me, he just nodded calmly. "Yes, that's the Abigor we all knew and despised. That's why he got the job to fuck that station woman in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, that's an interesting story, but I need to know more. My brother was a despicable pig, but he also was a sly bastard. I have several scars proving it. You're what, eighteen?"

I just nodded.

"Guessed as much. I'm not convinced an eighteen-year-old girl could just kill him. On the other hand, it doesn't matter much. His dick always got in the way. I guess it was the same this time. I can't say that I'm going to miss him. You probably did the world a favor, but I can't let this pass. You've killed a royal messenger. I, as the queen's judge and messenger, herewith sentence you to death. It was nice talking to you, though."

He just pointed his gun at my head and pulled the trigger. It shouldn't have surprised me, but it still did. Instead of firing, his weapon turned dark. Not my day to die, I guess.

"What the..." he muttered and tried to fire again, with the same result. "Oh, I see," he said and calmly holstered his gun. I watched in fascination as he pushed back his hood to reveal an almost bald head just like Abigor had. He surprised me by pulling off his mask and politely introducing himself.

"My name is Eligos."

He certainly was as ugly as Abigor had been. I had no idea what to do next. Should I try my gun and we would keep on alternating until one of them finally fired? He had tried to kill me in cold blood; should I do the same to him? Would that make me as bad as him? As bad as Abigor? It wouldn't even be self-defense anymore; he was just sitting on his horse, watching me.

Suddenly, he interrupted my thoughts by reaching for his gun again and trying to point it at me. My right hand surprised me by reacting perfectly and being quicker than his. Pulling the gun and shooting was one smooth move, deadly elegant and definitely not me. His gun might not have worked, but it didn't matter. Mine did. All of this took just a second or two.

Eligos, minus a huge part of his head, fell off his horse and landed in the dirt without any noise. Old me would have been appalled at the sight. New me should have been appalled. I just couldn't summon up any real emotion about it, and it didn't even bother me much.

My horse just continued on his old course without much ado, as if nothing noteworthy had happened. Eligos' horse just as calmly followed us without him. For some reason, the obvious normalcy of what had happened got to me. I could process the need to kill someone or get killed. I didn't expect some kind of eulogy by anyone when it would happen to me in the near future. Still, it shouldn't have been so damn normal, even in this fucked up, brutal world.

After a few minutes, I turned around. I dreaded looking at the mess again that had been a human being just minutes before, but I dreaded a messenger gun being found by some random person even more. A random person wouldn't make it glow or be able to use its full power, but would be fully capable of beating someone over the head with it, or using it to intimidate someone. I couldn't allow that.

After I had retrieved Eligos' gun, I thought about his last move. I was quite certain he did it to force me to shoot him. It had been some kind of assisted suicide, but I didn't know why. Maybe the messenger code of conduct demanded it. Maybe he dreaded arriving where we went to as the prisoner of an eighteen-year-old girl. I soon realized I didn't really care about him or his motives. He was dead and knowing why wouldn't change anything. I briefly pondered burying him, but I didn't even have a shovel. Somehow, I didn't think the weapons would help me with that task. I just turned around and left, feeling that even more of my original caring personality had just been corrupted.

I added Eligos' provisions and money to my stores. I didn't know whether a messenger would ever wear two guns like an old Wild West hero, so I slung Eligos' onto my back and covered it with my cloak. Then my two horses and I began clip-clopping down the road to Somewhere or Other.

What had I learned from my encounter with Eligos? First, I was wearing or carrying something that identified me as Abigor, at least to his brother. I didn't think it was the costume; Eligos' had looked just like mine. The horse, perhaps? Maybe, but the two black horses looked identical to me. No obvious answer here; put the question aside for later.

I had heard descriptions for as long I could remember. As a kid, I was in awe. Later, as a full-grown teenager, I knew they had to be exaggerated bullshit.

Except they weren't.

As my parents had told me, there were steep black mountains, pointing skywards like blackened fangs. I had accepted that part as the possible truth and I had no problem seeing it confirmed. The problem was, even the part about the palace being as big as the mountains and being shaped like them was true. That was a truth I had a problem getting my head around.

Of course, just the outer shape was mountain-like. That shape was formed by an incomprehensible mass of towers, bridges and halls. It was clearly pre-war; nobody could build anything more complex than a clay hut these days. Once more, I mourned for what the world must have been back then.

As I approached it, I expected an abundance of patrols, guard houses, checkpoints. There were none. What I saw was just an almost deserted plain. The palace seemed so imposing and mysterious, it made me feel like the intruder I truly was and seemed to force me backwards, just by impressing me. The architecture was obviously done to create a forbidding feeling for mere mortals, and it definitely worked.

I forced myself to move on. No, I just didn't keep my horses from doing so. They were totally unimpressed and just seemed to look forward to being home. I guess that forbidding exterior only daunted humans. They didn't steer towards the impossibly huge, but closed main gate, but towards a side entrance, obviously leading to the stables.

There were a few guards lazily watching the sparse traffic, but none of them challenged me. I expected to be searched, to be forced to remove my mask, to state who I was and what I wanted. Nothing. This was good, because my name would mean nothing to them, and I had no idea what I wanted. My horses just plodded through the much smaller, but still impressive gate and stopped in the middle of a dirty hall.

There was some activity, mostly stable hands taking care of horses and, to my horror, a few other messengers walking around. Two stable hands appeared and took the horses away, never asking why a single messenger appeared with two horses. I was glad to see the messengers didn't seem to talk with each other and just leisurely walked through an exit on the other side of the hall. I didn't want to. I really, really didn't want to see what was on the other side, but I knew I had to. This place had taken all of my confident teenage invulnerability and smashed it to tiny pieces. I just knew there was only one thing that could be waiting for me there.

My death.

The hall was vast. It didn't actually seem to end anywhere; it just went on until it disappeared in darkness and haze. I briefly glanced upwards, trying not to blow my cover by being curious. I could not see a ceiling, either.

The other messengers were all on their way towards an elevated platform, so I joined them. Just going with the flow was what this whole journey was about. I never felt that I had any free will, and that moment was no exception.

The platform turned out to be bigger than expected and much further away. As I got nearer, I could tell it was circular, about one meter high and surrounded by a circle of brightly burning torches. Various people were standing on it or milling around, but it was all centered on a huge black throne with a blueish shining figure on it.

I had to admit that I'd never been that impressed in my whole life. If the whole setup was meant to make people feel insignificant, it had succeeded. I felt like an insect in front of a god.

I went with the growing group of fellow messengers, feeling surprisingly safe among them. I just blended in and could watch what happened. I noticed they all kept a few meters of distance between them and that was fine by me. Perhaps they were afraid of infection.

Finally, we blended into the group of messengers surrounding the throne platform. The messengers just stood there, motionless, dark and patient. Patience and motionlessness were not exactly my strongest suits, but I tried my best and my panic certainly helped by freezing me.

After a few minutes, a black figure departed from the throne, went down the stairs that surrounded the circular platform all around and joined the ranks of the waiting messengers. Another of my colleagues then stepped up and went to the blue person, which must have been the Black Queen, despite the color incongruity.

Shit, this was an audience. Obviously, the messengers were expected to report to the queen. I had nothing to report and I had the wrong voice. I already knew I'd die in there, but I surely wanted to postpone it as long as possible.

To me, the black figures all looked the same. Beak mask, black hood, slightly shining gun on their legs. Mysteriously, they all knew exactly whose turn it was to step up. How would I know when it was my turn? They would all know, they would turn around and look at me, seeing the impostor I really was. I suddenly felt naked and vulnerable, as I was in a vast hall full the deadliest men in the kingdom, just waiting for my cover to be blown.

One by one, I watched them step up, my body stiff with fear. It was just a question of time. Despite my earlier bravado, I really didn't want to die. What if I tried to run? It seemed hopeless, and most of all, it was pointless. Why had I come here, just to run away again? Why had I come to the palace anyway, I suddenly asked myself. Just because my horse had decided to? I really hoped the reason wasn't that mundane. It would have meant a horse had more sense than I did. No, it had be destiny or something important. It had to be something more meaningful than just inertia.

On the other hand, had there ever been an alternative? I had killed a messenger. The whole kingdom would be looking for me, if it wasn't already. Yes, that was it, I remembered again. I was there to protect my poor, weak parents from the fallout of what I had done. I was sacrificing myself for them. No need to be afraid, I tried to convince myself; everything was as it should be.

For some reason, the hall didn't seem as dark anymore. The light cast by the torches wasn't as yellow anymore, but had become colder. I could see the floor now, which seemed impossibly smooth and shiny, yet covered in a complicated pattern of runes and lines.

As it got lighter, I noticed the messengers around me started to look at me. Why me, I thought. Confused, I saw that the sources of the blinding light were my gun and my dagger. I suspected Eligos' gun on my back was glowing just as brightly, but my cloak covered it. I willed them to become dark again, but nothing happened. I never figured out how willing them to do something worked anyway. They just seemed to do what they wanted, which sometimes coincided with what I wanted.

The messengers around me had all pulled their guns and started to distance themselves from me. My cover was already blown and the weapons that had saved my life had already decided to end it. I had no idea about their motivation and probably never would. In the end, all people in the kingdom seemed to be the weapon's slaves, including the queen. If that was true, then none of them, not even the queen, had any more real power than I did. I held my head erect as I felt my self-confidence was beginning to return.

Slowly, I turned to look at her again. While she had been difficult to discern before, my vision was now very clear. The sea of black figures between us had parted, the hall was well lit now and she was looking at me.

Slowly, she lifted a hand and pointed her finger at me.

"Come here," she ordered.

Her voice wasn't loud, but despite the distance it was very clear and eerily familiar. I decided to play the game out and do what I was told. It seemed like a better option than trying to shoot my way to the exit through the mass of gun-wielding messengers. When you have no choice, at least be brave, I told myself.

As I had almost reached the stairs, I could tell it was a woman in a black suit under a fascinating blue shimmering full-body halo.

As I ascended the stairs, it felt as if I was on the way to my execution, mostly because this was exactly what was happening. Hundreds of messengers had their guns aimed at me. I found it remarkable that the woman on the throne was not surrounded by guards. That meant she was so secure in her power that neither the messengers nor anyone else in the kingdom posed a serious threat. That certainly included an upstart eighteen-year-old girl from a backwater station. I stood no chance against her. My impression was confirmed by the messengers holstering their guns again.

A few servile aides scurried away as fast as they could without appearing to flee.

As I got nearer, I noticed two things. One, she was looking forward to this. I saw in her face that she'd kill me and she was going to enjoy it. She had no doubt about the outcome. Two, like her voice, her face seemed strangely familiar. I just couldn't place it, maybe because I couldn't think at all right then.

Lazily, she pointed at the ground a few meters in front of the steps leading to her impossibly big and intimidating black throne, ordering me to either stop or to kneel. I chose the former. Although I had never seen anything like it, the object in her lap clearly was some kind of gun. It was not one of the simple and functional messenger guns. This one was much smaller, much more intricate, beautiful and deadly.

"Be a dear and take off your mask, please," the Black Queen asked in a frighteningly polite way. I would have preferred a harsher tone, not this courtesy towards a condemned person. My messenger cover was blown anyway, so I could just as well get rid of Abigor's damn beak mask. I pulled it off for what I hoped was the last time, shook my hair and immediately felt much better. I would not die as Abigor. I would live or die as me.

"Oh, a girl. How surprising. Did we even have a female messenger?" she rhetorically asked the empty spot where the aides had been.

I watched her and felt myself change. It was as if my mind unfolded for the first time in my life. We were both sure that I wouldn't leave this room alive. It gave the talk a very special quality, as I knew it was going to be my last one. Everything was very intense; I noticed every detail. I noticed her wrinkles, the slight imperfections of her clothes, the smells, the burning torches behind her. My mind was as sharp and alert as my senses. I was practically tingling with life. I surprised myself by not even being afraid. This was just how things were meant to happen. This was how everything is meant to end.

"Tell me, dear, who are you?"

I didn't feel the need to answer, but kept looking at her calmly. She didn't seem to mind. It was as if I was a riddle for her, a little morsel of entertainment on an otherwise dull day.

"Wait, don't tell me. You seem familiar. I know you. Come up here."

Curious myself, I ascended the stairs to the small platform surrounding the throne. A genuine smile appeared on her face. "Yes, I know who you are. You are my niece."