Okay! here's
HONOR--EPISODE 25
This is short, a bit of a transitional piece.
He had indeed entrusted me with his life. The gift of a Wraith.
###
Morning rose in the open doors of the terrace and I woke up with a start. In the zone between dreamless sleep and reality, the events of the day before seeped in, first like shifting ghosts then taking form, passing through my mind one by one, as real as if they stood in front of me—the Wraith Queen with my DNA and no feeding hand; the Commander with his grand plans for the Wraith race that, somehow, included me; the lonely feeling; the questions; and the frustrating lack of understanding of a Wraith’s mind; or rather of THIS Wraith’s mind. What was wrong in my world, was not in his; what was right in his world, was not in mine… And the nagging, corroding thought that I was nothing but a piece of his plans; an easily manipulated human; a vessel of DNA for his race. That worm of anger squirmed inside me.
I threw off the covers and sat up. Moira stood at the foot of the bed waiting my orders. I did not know for how long she had been there, awaiting my awakening; as if she was waiting for a Wraith’s awakening, the odd thought crossed my mind.
With the Commander’s visit, she seemed to have become even more—wasn’t sure how to describe it; even more ‘devoted’; or attentive; or… whatever. I really didn’t want to use the world servile. It was as if she had been injected with some drug or enzyme that had started to fade before his reappearance but had been renewed now.
The same drug or enzyme I’ve been injected with?
I met her eyes. “Moira,” I said, modulating my voice to display quiet authority.
She bowed. Deeper than before.
“Your master,” I started, “has given me his rights over you.”
“Yes.”
“I have the power of life and death over you, according to him. And being a Wraith, he truly means life and death. I am correct in that?”
“Yes.” She bowed again.
“If your loyalty fails me, he has given me the choice to eliminate you by whatever means I think appropriate.” I was listening to myself and shuddered a bit; I was doing a very impressive imitation of a Wraith. “I will not kill you with my own hands,” I continued on the path of threats, “but I will lift my protecting hand off you. You know what that means?”
She nodded, She was a little bit pale.
“But, this is not of concern.” I smiled. “You have proven your loyalty and even your friendship.”
She nodded and lifted her gaze. “After all,” she said softly, “it is easier to love a human master than a Wraith. Although…” she attempted her own smile, “a human could never be the benevolent and perfect master a Wraith could be.” She stared at me. “They certainly would not crave our friendship or affection.”
Her words made me pause. Was that an advice, or warning? I let it pass, my mind bent on the benevolence of the Wraith. Whatever it was, I was certain a human could not match the form it took. It was what had molded Moira’s soul of a worshipper. And that is what I wanted to know. “Tell me, Moira—how does a Wraith obtain and keep your devotion?”
Obviously, it didn’t always work; to wit the killing of the Wraith I had encountered on the planet of winds.
Moira swallowed. “They do it by taking our life then giving it back to us.”
That we all knew. “That’s all?” I said dismissively.
“They take the life slowly, the pain prolonged. But, then when they return it, it is the sweetest and most exhilarating feeling any human could experience. You would not know it, because when the gift was given to you, it was for healing.” Her eyes were gleaming with some inner delight. “You would not know…” She suddenly seemed lost in her own thoughts. There was a light tremor in her hands, as if she was experiencing a whiff of the pleasure of the gift. She looked at me almost feverishly. “It becomes a craving that burns in our gut. We desire it more and more with each gift, a longing that nothing can satisfy, until we break down like madmen and howl for it until it is given to us; if we deserve it. If not, we die at our own hand to relieve the pain.”
I looked at her without hiding my disquiet at her words. “All these years you’ve been with me…”
“It was hell. But, it was my sacrifice for my master.”
“How do they give you this gift?”
“The worshippers’ gift,” she specified. “The same as they take our life. With the hand on our throat.” She seemed puzzled at my question.
“Tell me in detail.”
She took in a breath. “It is not an easy task for the Wraith,” she said. “That is why it is done rarely, and only to the ones who have been singled out for devotion. We are left to desire it until we nearly go mad. The Wraith sense when that happens. We are summoned by the Commander, or the Queen if there’s one. If we are found to be especially devoted and of service, then the gift is given to us by the Queen or commander themselves. If it is only to maintain us, then it is given by the other Wraith, who are less skilled in this. Sometimes the heart stops. We kneel and worship and plead with traditional words. Ceremonially, we open the front of our vestments, and the Wraith grabs us and slowly, very slowly takes our life away, until we scream in agony. And then, at that special point, where pain and anticipation become overwhelming, slowly they return life to us, the pleasure of which obliterates everything.”
“When the Commander was here, yesterday, did he give you the worshipper’s gift?” Something weird squirmed inside me. Surely not jealousy.
“Of course,” she said, suddenly sounding proud. “I have served him and you, as no other worshipper.”
Yes, of course… “What about the ones who turned against him?”
She sighed. “They were not born in the hive to worshippers,” she answered. “They tempted us and misled us. We paid dearly for it.”
“How about Doria?”
Her face darkened. “She’s dead. The Commander withdrew the gift of life from her because of her hate for you. She died by her own hand.”
I trembled inside. This was indeed a game of life and death. “When?”
“After my fellow worshipers were taken back from you. She had been plotting against you.”
“Why?”
“She was misled and had lost her way. She was jealous of you, that you have taken the Commander’s interest away from her.”
“Interest?”
“Doria was his most devoted worshipper. She reported to him on everything and she was our mistress for the Wraiths. The Commander spoke to her mind. But she had the audacity to put herself on the same footing as you, to think of you as equal to her in the mind of the Commander. She was fatally mistaken.”
“I was not equal to a worshipper?” I asked, the demon of my suspicions—that I was not more than another form of worshipper to the Commander—rearing its ugly head.
“Oh, no!” Moira flinched. “Never! From the beginning you were above us. You had honored the Wraith as only a Wraith would; and you took the Commander as a mate as only a Queen would. You gave the Wraith a Queen, as only a Wraith queen would. You have been given the gifts of a Queen.”
It took me a while to ask the next question as an unexpected feeling of happiness filled me. But, startled by it, I tried to suppress it, cautioning myself of the foolishness of such a feeling. I shook my head. Absurd. ABSURD. I then had to ask the next question: “Are the male Wraiths male like humans?”
Moira seemed to ponder the question for a second. “I hear that they are.”
“You hear?”
“I hear that they discarded that ability when they turned against the Ancients, and separated themselves from all human ways.” She added, softly: “Their pleasure is elsewhere. No human knows anything of it.
With one exception, perhaps?
“With one exception,” Moira echoed my thoughts. “I have never heard of another, besides you.”
I rose from bed and paced to the terrace doors. “When they give you the worshipper’s gift, do they always take your life first?” I turned to face her again.
“Yes. Otherwise it would not be what it is.”
My breath was a bit shallow. The Commander had not taken my life first. He had simply put his hand on me and drew me into another world. And then, my hand in his—
“Do they ever touch you in any other way?” I asked. “Like putting your hand in their feeding hand—“
She looked at me indignantly. “That is done only between a Wraith and his Queen.”
My heart stopped and then fluttered quickly. She added, gravely: “He has given you his life.” She pointed to the square piece of blue amber on my night stand.
So, she knew what it was… I stared at it and then picked it up. I put it in my right palm. It was cold and lifeless. I looked at Moira.
“It will alight when needed,” she said.
I held it in both my hands. There was a soft point of heat in my palm. But, I said nothing of that.
“What will happen to you, Moira, without the Wraith’s gift? They are gone.”
Moira straightened her shoulders. “The Commander has given me to you. He has given me the rest of my natural life. Doing without the Gift is how I will prove my true devotion and loyalty.”
A thought suddenly crossed my mind. “What happens to the other worshipers now, while the Wraith are in hibernation?”
Moira pushed her chin up and looked squarely at me. “They have performed the ultimate act of devotion to their Wraith lords—they were fed upon to provide the sustenance the Commander and the hive will need for hibernation.”
They were all dead… I felt cold. Very cold.
“It’s only you and me,” Moira whispered. “To protect the Wraith.”
I clasped the amber communicator in my hands. I said: “And what are exactly the orders the Commander has given you?”
“To protect you.”
“Protect me?”
“I would protect you by informing the hive that you are in danger.”
“Really…”
“Also, I am to inform you of anything I hear that might threaten and harm the Commander and his Queen and hive.”
“And what about informing him of any harm I might want to bring on his hive?”
She looked at me long. “You will not harm the Commander and his hive.”
“You are certain…”
“You are the Keeper of the Commander’s hive.” She added. “Like no other Keeper the Wraith has ever had.”
Those words were almost incomprehensible to me. Yet, in some bizarre way, in a way one would find only among the mad, they spoke the truth.
“Are the Wraith known for insanity?” I quipped, feeling as if I’ve fallen into a vortex of madness.
Moira smiled: “No. They are known for their intelligence and cunning; and clever plans.”
“Then how do you explain this?!” I spread my arms out.
“You belong more to Wraith than to humans. You are the Queen of the strongest alliance and thus the Keeper.” She bowed deeper. “My Queen.”
HONOR--EPISODE 25
This is short, a bit of a transitional piece.
Spoiler:
He had indeed entrusted me with his life. The gift of a Wraith.
###
Morning rose in the open doors of the terrace and I woke up with a start. In the zone between dreamless sleep and reality, the events of the day before seeped in, first like shifting ghosts then taking form, passing through my mind one by one, as real as if they stood in front of me—the Wraith Queen with my DNA and no feeding hand; the Commander with his grand plans for the Wraith race that, somehow, included me; the lonely feeling; the questions; and the frustrating lack of understanding of a Wraith’s mind; or rather of THIS Wraith’s mind. What was wrong in my world, was not in his; what was right in his world, was not in mine… And the nagging, corroding thought that I was nothing but a piece of his plans; an easily manipulated human; a vessel of DNA for his race. That worm of anger squirmed inside me.
I threw off the covers and sat up. Moira stood at the foot of the bed waiting my orders. I did not know for how long she had been there, awaiting my awakening; as if she was waiting for a Wraith’s awakening, the odd thought crossed my mind.
With the Commander’s visit, she seemed to have become even more—wasn’t sure how to describe it; even more ‘devoted’; or attentive; or… whatever. I really didn’t want to use the world servile. It was as if she had been injected with some drug or enzyme that had started to fade before his reappearance but had been renewed now.
The same drug or enzyme I’ve been injected with?
I met her eyes. “Moira,” I said, modulating my voice to display quiet authority.
She bowed. Deeper than before.
“Your master,” I started, “has given me his rights over you.”
“Yes.”
“I have the power of life and death over you, according to him. And being a Wraith, he truly means life and death. I am correct in that?”
“Yes.” She bowed again.
“If your loyalty fails me, he has given me the choice to eliminate you by whatever means I think appropriate.” I was listening to myself and shuddered a bit; I was doing a very impressive imitation of a Wraith. “I will not kill you with my own hands,” I continued on the path of threats, “but I will lift my protecting hand off you. You know what that means?”
She nodded, She was a little bit pale.
“But, this is not of concern.” I smiled. “You have proven your loyalty and even your friendship.”
She nodded and lifted her gaze. “After all,” she said softly, “it is easier to love a human master than a Wraith. Although…” she attempted her own smile, “a human could never be the benevolent and perfect master a Wraith could be.” She stared at me. “They certainly would not crave our friendship or affection.”
Her words made me pause. Was that an advice, or warning? I let it pass, my mind bent on the benevolence of the Wraith. Whatever it was, I was certain a human could not match the form it took. It was what had molded Moira’s soul of a worshipper. And that is what I wanted to know. “Tell me, Moira—how does a Wraith obtain and keep your devotion?”
Obviously, it didn’t always work; to wit the killing of the Wraith I had encountered on the planet of winds.
Moira swallowed. “They do it by taking our life then giving it back to us.”
That we all knew. “That’s all?” I said dismissively.
“They take the life slowly, the pain prolonged. But, then when they return it, it is the sweetest and most exhilarating feeling any human could experience. You would not know it, because when the gift was given to you, it was for healing.” Her eyes were gleaming with some inner delight. “You would not know…” She suddenly seemed lost in her own thoughts. There was a light tremor in her hands, as if she was experiencing a whiff of the pleasure of the gift. She looked at me almost feverishly. “It becomes a craving that burns in our gut. We desire it more and more with each gift, a longing that nothing can satisfy, until we break down like madmen and howl for it until it is given to us; if we deserve it. If not, we die at our own hand to relieve the pain.”
I looked at her without hiding my disquiet at her words. “All these years you’ve been with me…”
“It was hell. But, it was my sacrifice for my master.”
“How do they give you this gift?”
“The worshippers’ gift,” she specified. “The same as they take our life. With the hand on our throat.” She seemed puzzled at my question.
“Tell me in detail.”
She took in a breath. “It is not an easy task for the Wraith,” she said. “That is why it is done rarely, and only to the ones who have been singled out for devotion. We are left to desire it until we nearly go mad. The Wraith sense when that happens. We are summoned by the Commander, or the Queen if there’s one. If we are found to be especially devoted and of service, then the gift is given to us by the Queen or commander themselves. If it is only to maintain us, then it is given by the other Wraith, who are less skilled in this. Sometimes the heart stops. We kneel and worship and plead with traditional words. Ceremonially, we open the front of our vestments, and the Wraith grabs us and slowly, very slowly takes our life away, until we scream in agony. And then, at that special point, where pain and anticipation become overwhelming, slowly they return life to us, the pleasure of which obliterates everything.”
“When the Commander was here, yesterday, did he give you the worshipper’s gift?” Something weird squirmed inside me. Surely not jealousy.
“Of course,” she said, suddenly sounding proud. “I have served him and you, as no other worshipper.”
Yes, of course… “What about the ones who turned against him?”
She sighed. “They were not born in the hive to worshippers,” she answered. “They tempted us and misled us. We paid dearly for it.”
“How about Doria?”
Her face darkened. “She’s dead. The Commander withdrew the gift of life from her because of her hate for you. She died by her own hand.”
I trembled inside. This was indeed a game of life and death. “When?”
“After my fellow worshipers were taken back from you. She had been plotting against you.”
“Why?”
“She was misled and had lost her way. She was jealous of you, that you have taken the Commander’s interest away from her.”
“Interest?”
“Doria was his most devoted worshipper. She reported to him on everything and she was our mistress for the Wraiths. The Commander spoke to her mind. But she had the audacity to put herself on the same footing as you, to think of you as equal to her in the mind of the Commander. She was fatally mistaken.”
“I was not equal to a worshipper?” I asked, the demon of my suspicions—that I was not more than another form of worshipper to the Commander—rearing its ugly head.
“Oh, no!” Moira flinched. “Never! From the beginning you were above us. You had honored the Wraith as only a Wraith would; and you took the Commander as a mate as only a Queen would. You gave the Wraith a Queen, as only a Wraith queen would. You have been given the gifts of a Queen.”
It took me a while to ask the next question as an unexpected feeling of happiness filled me. But, startled by it, I tried to suppress it, cautioning myself of the foolishness of such a feeling. I shook my head. Absurd. ABSURD. I then had to ask the next question: “Are the male Wraiths male like humans?”
Moira seemed to ponder the question for a second. “I hear that they are.”
“You hear?”
“I hear that they discarded that ability when they turned against the Ancients, and separated themselves from all human ways.” She added, softly: “Their pleasure is elsewhere. No human knows anything of it.
With one exception, perhaps?
“With one exception,” Moira echoed my thoughts. “I have never heard of another, besides you.”
I rose from bed and paced to the terrace doors. “When they give you the worshipper’s gift, do they always take your life first?” I turned to face her again.
“Yes. Otherwise it would not be what it is.”
My breath was a bit shallow. The Commander had not taken my life first. He had simply put his hand on me and drew me into another world. And then, my hand in his—
“Do they ever touch you in any other way?” I asked. “Like putting your hand in their feeding hand—“
She looked at me indignantly. “That is done only between a Wraith and his Queen.”
My heart stopped and then fluttered quickly. She added, gravely: “He has given you his life.” She pointed to the square piece of blue amber on my night stand.
So, she knew what it was… I stared at it and then picked it up. I put it in my right palm. It was cold and lifeless. I looked at Moira.
“It will alight when needed,” she said.
I held it in both my hands. There was a soft point of heat in my palm. But, I said nothing of that.
“What will happen to you, Moira, without the Wraith’s gift? They are gone.”
Moira straightened her shoulders. “The Commander has given me to you. He has given me the rest of my natural life. Doing without the Gift is how I will prove my true devotion and loyalty.”
A thought suddenly crossed my mind. “What happens to the other worshipers now, while the Wraith are in hibernation?”
Moira pushed her chin up and looked squarely at me. “They have performed the ultimate act of devotion to their Wraith lords—they were fed upon to provide the sustenance the Commander and the hive will need for hibernation.”
They were all dead… I felt cold. Very cold.
“It’s only you and me,” Moira whispered. “To protect the Wraith.”
I clasped the amber communicator in my hands. I said: “And what are exactly the orders the Commander has given you?”
“To protect you.”
“Protect me?”
“I would protect you by informing the hive that you are in danger.”
“Really…”
“Also, I am to inform you of anything I hear that might threaten and harm the Commander and his Queen and hive.”
“And what about informing him of any harm I might want to bring on his hive?”
She looked at me long. “You will not harm the Commander and his hive.”
“You are certain…”
“You are the Keeper of the Commander’s hive.” She added. “Like no other Keeper the Wraith has ever had.”
Those words were almost incomprehensible to me. Yet, in some bizarre way, in a way one would find only among the mad, they spoke the truth.
“Are the Wraith known for insanity?” I quipped, feeling as if I’ve fallen into a vortex of madness.
Moira smiled: “No. They are known for their intelligence and cunning; and clever plans.”
“Then how do you explain this?!” I spread my arms out.
“You belong more to Wraith than to humans. You are the Queen of the strongest alliance and thus the Keeper.” She bowed deeper. “My Queen.”
, I was actually just thinking about how Elena would feel on Moira being alone with her Commander. Definitely something to be jealous of 
Comment