Screaming Shaman

[Orlan]

Miakel knocked hard on the door of the house. It was a solid door, made of oak or possibly maple. It was rapidly approaching dusk on this warm night and Miakel knew he was running out of options, and time. The small town had only one main thoroughfare and a fair number of houses lined that road, but only this one would work for him. Only this house would make him able to end all his troubles once and for all. He pounded again, harder this time.

 

“Maybe they’re just not home,” said a little voice in his ear.

 

“She’s home,” Miakel said back. Sure enough, a moment later he heard a latch being undone.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming. By the Gods you’re impatient…” a voice from the other side of the door said. The door swung open a little bit to show the face of a woman in her mid years. He face was round and simple. Her sandy blonde hair was tied back and covered in a kerchief. “Yes, yes, what can I do for you sir…” Her crystal blue eyes went from annoyed slits to wide orbs as she took in Miakel’s appearance. Her mouth dropped as she saw the blue tattoo that curved down the side of Miakel’s face, flaring out into flames of the deepest violet when it reached his neck. She knew him. She knew him as everyone else in the lands knew him: as a crazy man. She started to scream but Miakel was faster then her voice was, clamping his hand over her mouth and wedging in the doorway so she could not slam the door.

 

“Quiet,” Miakel ordered. The woman’s eyes turned from shock and horror to a sudden look of lost. She was begging him with her eyes not to kill her. Miakel had seen these eyes before. Thousands of times they’ve stared him down. This time, however, was going to end differently. “You know who I am and what I can do to you, correct?” The woman nodded helplessly, tears now forming in her eyes. “Good, we can skip that then. I’m buying your house.” Miakel took a step into the house, lifting the woman easily by her shoulder and carrying her in with him. He hit the door with the heel of his foot and it slammed shut. The woman’s eyes flashed from fear to confusion, and then back and forth a few more times.

 

“Listen, I’m going to remove my hand. Screaming will not help you and will just get more people killed than need to be,” Miakel said, removing his hand from the woman’s mouth. Her mouth stayed wide open, though she made no sound. Miakel reached into his cloak and pulled out a hefty bag that jingled the familiar tune of coin. “There are thirty-five gold pieces in this bag. I’m buying your house. You will get as far from here as possible and never speak of this ever again. That money should get you anywhere you want and give you any name you want. You’re now dead. The Screaming Shaman has killed you.” Miakel hated that nickname, but that was what the lands had dubbed him. It seemed that you yell one time and engulf a duke in a ball of flame and they think up the most ridiculous name for you. But the name always did the trick. No one wanted to anger the Screaming Shaman.

 

“Wha-” the woman began. Miakel shook his head.

 

“Go. Now. Before I change my mind and actually kill you.” Miakel thrust the money into one of her hands. She responded on instinct and grabbed onto the money.

 

“You’re going to kill the prince,” the woman said, shocking herself. She gasped the moment she finished speaking and put a trembling hand over her mouth. Her eyes were shaking nearly as much as her hand. Miakel’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned his head to look at her only slightly.

 

“Prince….yes, I guess he is one now. And yes, I am going to kill him. Once and for all. And if you’re still here in a few seconds you might precede him in death.” Miakel raised his voice just slightly, evoking the fear in her that he wanted. She took a small step back and clenched the bag of money to her chest. Miakel took one step towards her and that was all she needed. She was off, swinging the door wide open and running away without another spent breath. Miakel watched her go from the doorway and then shut and latched the door.

 

“What makes you think that she’s not going to just go run and tell the royal guard on you?” a little voice said in his ear.

 

“Because people are simple. And the simple point is I scare her too much.” Miakel reached up to the ear where the voice came from and grabbed hold of a tiny leg. With a flick of his wrist a small body flew through the air, moving swiftly toward the wall. Before the figure hit the wall however it stopped and righted itself.

 

“That was rude, you could have injured me,” the figure said. Miakel gave an exasperated look. The tiny figure was female, with proportions that would make men go wild were she normal sized. Her long lavender hair, as long as she was tall, fell in circles around her, floating like it had a mind of its own. A pair of gossamer wings, like those of a dragonfly, sprouted out of her back. The wings were for show though; Miakel knew she needed no help to stay afloat.

 

“No I couldn’t have, Ray’Shel,” Miakel said to the tiny woman.

 

“Hmph,” the tiny woman said, turning up her nose at him and floating away. She spun and looked around the room, surveying it. “Maybe I’ll just leave you to be all by your lonesome then. Would you like that?”

 

“You haven’t left yet, no matter how hard I’ve tried. I don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon.” It was true. It had been almost 66,825 days since Miakel awoke and found himself lost in a forest with no recollection of anything before that point. He had stumbled onto this little sprite, or pixie, or elemental, or whatever she was, in that forest, and for some reason she attached herself to him.

 

Miakel gave pause. He did know one thing. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he needed to kill one man. Now, that man was a prince, and quite a well liked one at that. But it had not always been that way. Over nearly the pass 66,825 days the man had assumed many personalities, but he was always the same man. He was the man Miakel had to kill. This feeling was the only thing that Miakel had from before the forest. It was the only thing he remembered. He did not know why he was to kill this man, all he knew was that he must. Seventy-three attempts he had made on the man’s life, and not a single one a success. The man was slippery, like a snake.

 

“Ooh, it looks like she was making some tea,” Ray’Shel said. She floated over to where a cauldron was bubbling over a fire in the fireplace. She reached down a tiny hand and grabbed the side of the cauldron lifting it from the fire with no effort. Miakel glanced at her. This being, whoever she was, had helped him on every attempt, but no matter how hard they’ve both tried, the man slipped out of Miakel’s grasp. Miakel watched Ray’Shel as she set the bubbling cauldron on the ground. She shrugged her shoulders and the gossamer wings vanished from her back. She slowly floated down, sliding herself into the still bubbling water with a deep sigh. When she was sunk into the water up to her neck she let out a little squeak of joy. “Oh Gods, do I love being small and naked.” She glanced up at Miakel. “Care to join me?” she said sweetly.

 

“I’m fine,” Miakel said. He turned from her and started moving a large bookcase from the side of the room so it was right next to the front door.

 

“Suit yourself,” Ray’Shel said. She dipped her head back and finished getting her hair wet. She sighed happily as she ran her hands through her wet hair. “You know you really should join me here, Mr. Grumpy. When was the last time you relaxed? Hot springs are very relaxing.”

 

“I have never relaxed, Ray’Shel. You usually help in that respect.”

 

“Bah, that’s your own fault. If you would just….oh for the love of…!” Miakel turned and looked at Ray’Shel. The tiny woman’s hair wad lifted itself out of the water and was wringing itself out, dropping water on top of Ray’Shel. “Listen, a nice warm soak is good for hair!” she shouted at her hair. The hair shook itself and then fell back down on top of the water, but not into the water. It floated just on the surface, staying dry. “Ugh, sometimes I wonder about you even more than I wonder about him.” The end of her hair swung around and slapped her playfully on the nose. She laughed, a laughter which sounded like the ringing of the tiniest bell. “Fine, fine, I’m sorry. You’re right, he’s more confusing then you are.” The hair slapped the water once, apparently in approval.

 

“I don’t know why I keep you around,” Miakel said, shaking his head at her. He knew why he kept her around though. She was the only person who did not look upon with fear or disgust; she has been the only true friend he’s had since he woke up in the forest. And more importantly, she has always helped him in his goal, the one he was going to finish tomorrow morning, when the prince was going to be paraded through this small town on his way to meet his bride in the capital.

 

“Well I love you too, Mr. Grumpy,” Ray’Shel said. She tilted her head to the side and looked at Miakel. “Now get some sleep, I’ll wake you well before tomorrow morning.” Miakel unlatched his sword from his belt and sat down, his back to the bookcase. The sword has been the only other thing that has been with him all these nearly 66,825 days. It was Ray’Shel’s first gift to him, the sword and the teachings on how to use the magic that he now wielded in such a deadly way. Miakel paused a moment. Tomorrow was officially the 66,825th day for him since waking in the forest. Why did that day stand out so much? In fact, how could he remember so precisely the number of days it had been but everything else he remembered was blotchy and random, like anyone else’s memory. The number 66,825 meant something to him….but what? Miakel was not able to give it anymore thought because a moment later he heard Ray’Shel’s voice and could do nothing but obey.

 

“Sleep…”

 

* * *

 

“Wake.”

 

Miakel came instantly awake and was up with his sword half drawn before he stopped. Ray’Shel was standing before him, though she was his own size now. Her long lavender hair was replaced by a vibrant mane of red, briaded into a single braid that wrapped around her neck and down the front of her chest. She wore a maroon dress that was form hugging and provided ample lift where she really did not need it.

 

“Do you think this will attract his attention?”

 

“I’d hope so,” Miakel said, trying hard not to stare too blatantly. He shook his head once and got this mind back to task. He stood himself up and pressed up against the bookshelf he had moved by the door. Ray’Shel had thought up this plan to trap the man and had spent a few days going over with it again and again with Miakel. Ray’Shel would distract the man long enough to bring him a step into the house, and then Miakel would strike. They needed a house that was positioned along the route prince was taking but also that had something to obscure the view of who was inside. Miakel stood behind a bookcase now because of that part of a plan. He could not see out the door fully, but anyone standing at the door was unable to see in. This had to work.

 

“He’s coming through, stay put,” Ray’Shel said as she opened the door to the outside. Miakel could hear a few cheers from outside as the man’s entourage made its way through this tiny town. Miakel could just barely see any part of Ray’Shel as she stood in the doorway so he had no choice but to wait at this point. He tightened his grip on his sword a half dozen times or so. It was an anxious twitch but he had to do something. His mind started to race as he heard the hooves of horses become slowly closer. As the time grew closer, things started to surface in his thoughts. These were things that confused him. He saw in his mind’s eye himself, laying motionless on bed of white, and he saw Ray’Shel, or who he thought was Ray’Shel, crying beside him. He felt cold at this image, and the one thing that kept surfacing thoughout this was the number 66,825. What was that number? What did it mean? Why does it feel so significant? He could not shake this feeling that he should know more about that number. In fact, he thought that the number had something to do with the man he was chasing after. The man!

 

“…of course your highness, I am ever so elated that you came to our small village,” Ray’Shel was saying. Miakel zoned back into the room. The man he had been chasing was now only a few feet away from him. Miakel had to restrain himself when he heard the man speak.

 

“Well I am a man of the people, young miss,” Miakel heard his slithering snake voice say. “And I am very concerned with people such as yourself.” The dripping venom of a deviant mind could be felt in the man’s voice. He was a predator and Ray’Shel was an unwitting prey in his mind. Miakel was more confident in Ray’Shel then in the man he was chasing.

 

“Oh, your highness,” Ray’Shel said with a girlish giggle. She took a step back, more into Miakel’s view. “You are always welcome into my home, of course.” She took another step back, bowing as a gracious host would. Miakel heard the creak of the floorboards as the man took a step into the house.

 

“Why thank you,” the man said. Miakel exploded in movement. With a roar, he launched his sword again the bookcase, plunging it blindly at his target. He unleashed his magic on the rest of the bookcase, turning it almost instantly into cinders and ashes. He saw Ray’Shel jump back a few feet to avoid the battle, and then he turned and saw the back of his target’s head as the man turned and fled out the door way. Miakel glanced at his sword, embedded against the other side of the door and one of the prince’s guards had his own sword wedged tightly against Miakel’s. He had been deflected from his target. Two other guards where on the prince almost immediately and were rushing him to the caravan. Miakel cursed.

 

“Run after him!” Ray’Shel shouted. Miakel paused only an instant to reflect on her words. Ray’Shel’s words were not the orders or playful suggestions that Miakel was so normally used to, but rather they were full of fear. Not fear for herself, but fear for Miakel. Once again, only for an instant, the image of her crying over his body appeared in his mind. “You don’t have time to waste!” Ray’Shel shouted again. Her body exploded in light and she was once again as he had always known her, yet this time she was a fairy in full size. She glowed with a blue power and slammed herself into the guard who had pinned Miakel’s sword to the wall.

 

Miakel wasted no more time on thinking but rather followed Ray’Shel’s plea and took off after the man. Miakel could see more guards coming at him with their swords drawn but he spared them no real concern. His target was being moved to someplace Miakel could not afford to let him arrive at. A Griffon, its eagle winds flapping nervously as chaos was surrounding it. The stately face of the lion was looking every which way, readying for a fight but not losing any regal appeal.

 

Miakel dodged a sword thrust and slammed his palm into the perpetrator’s chest, exploding the man in a shower of flames. The explosion flung the guard back into another two guards. Miakel did not pause but continued charging forward. The man he was chasing never looked back, Miakel only saw his shoulder length black hair flapping in the wind. Another swing came at Miakel and he was forced to break his focus on the man to dodge out of the way of the sword. A lash of fire released itself from his palm, striking the sword’s wielder and causing a scream of pain. Miakel stepped over a burnt body and turned his gaze back to the man.

 

Miakel’s heart fell as he watched the man be ushered onto the waiting Griffon by three guards. One of the guards slapped the Griffon’s hind side with the blunt edge of his sword. The Griffon reared and with a flap of its wings was off the ground. Miakel roared in frustration as his goal was flying away. He slammed his wrists together and a cone of flames formed at his hands and erupted, engulfing everything in front of Miakel. The three guards were consumed in flames, but the man escaped, the Griffon taking mad flight for fear of the fire.

 

“NO!” Miakel roared at the man.

 

“After him!” Ray’Shel shouted from behind the Screaming Shaman.

 

“How?” Miakel demanded, turning to his side in time to see Ray’Shel running towards him. Her body suddenly lurched and elongated as she turned herself into a bright red dragon, about three times the size of a man. Smoke seeped out of the dragon’s mouth and violet eyes stared Miakel down as the dragon ran towards him. Miakel took two steps and jumped to the dragon, climbing up on its back without a moments pause. The dragon Ray’Shel spread its wings and took off with a mighty thrust of its hind legs. Miakel raised a hand to his eyes as he looked up after the griffon. The man was steering the beast into the sun, and though Miakel could make the outline of the griffon in the sun, he could not make out exactly where to go. But Ray’Shel could.

 

The dragon’s wings beat rapidly and Miakel grabbed on to some of the large dragon scales that protruded from the dragon’s neck and held on tight as the wind whipped past him. The dragon was gaining on the griffon, but Miakel was unable to make out more then a line in the sun.

 

“You need to hold on!” Ray’Shel’s voice sounded directly in Miakel’s head. “You need to grab on to him and hold on!”

 

“I can’t see him,” Miakel yelled back over the roar of the wind.

 

“He’s just ahead,” Ray’Shel’s voice echoed in his mind. “You need to reach forward and grab hold.”

 

“What?” Miakel yelled out.

 

“You need to trust me. I know you can do this. We have no time left, you need to hold on!” Miakel was slightly confused but he knew better than to argue with Ray’Shel. He also knew that he owed Ray’Shel his life many times over. Miakel climbed his way up the dragon’s neck, a feat complicated by the whipping wing and unsteady flight. Miakel was unable to shield his eyes anymore since he had to use both hands to stabilize himself. He was looking directly at a blotch of black against the sun. “Reach out!” Ray’Shel ordered Miakel. The dragon crunched itself up suddenly, propelling Miakel forward. Miakel took one of his hands off the dragon’s neck and lunged forward, his hand outstretched.

 

“Even though I walk through the valley of Death, I will fear no evil…” A voice came from somewhere, Miakel did not understand who was speaking, but he could not afford to spare it a moment. Light filled his vision, his eyes watered and his breath left him. But he grabbed something, something he instantly recognized as a wrist. It was the man’s wrist, he knew it! Miakel clenched his hand down tightly. He was not going to let go.

 

“And the lord is my sheperd…” the voice sounded again, Miakel grit his teeth and tried to push the voice out of his head, but it was so prominent. Miakel sought to keep focused, and make sure he held tight his grip. Unfortunately, Miakel felt his body jerk, and all his strength was beginning to leave him. Miakel forced all his will into holding his grip.

 

Then, everything went white, and Miakel heard more voices.

 

“What’s happening?!”

 

“He won’t let go, help me!”

 

“Get some nurses in here, we need to restrain him!”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“We need Valium, 20ccs!”

 

“Hold him down, then!”

 

“My wrist! He won’t let go!”

 

“Michael!”

 

“Get another doctor in here, stat!”

 

“He’s crushing my wrist! Help!”

 

“NO!” Miakel choked out. His voice was obstructed with something that was in his mouth and down his throat. His free hand flew to his mouth and ripped it free from his mouth and throat. He coughed and choked up some things but he never let go with his other hand. He suddenly realized he was lying somewhere soft. His eyes opened and he suddenly realized that there were half a dozen people looking down at him. Miakel rolled to his side, dropping off wherever he was; it was some sort of bed. He took the man’s arm with him and continued to hold him tightly. The man was squealing in pain. Miakel glanced quickly down at his sole goal for the past years. Something was wrong, and it was more than the fact that Miakel was somewhere else suddenly. Was this man the one Miakel had been following all his life, the one who could answer all his questions? He looked pathetic. Miakel put pressure on the man’s arm, forcing him hard against the ground. Miakel stood over him, protectively and looked around at all the others who were in the same room as him. Most wore white, and Miakel realized he wore white as well. He had on a thin piece of white fabric, that was tied in the back, and that was all.

 

There were two in the room that were not in white, though. One was an older man with small glasses. He had on a black robe with a high neck and a white collar. In his hand he held a leather bound tome. He was regarding Miakel with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. The other person was a woman who looked enough like Ray’Shel to make him think twice, but she was not Ray’Shel. She had on a strange black dress, and she looked as she had suddenly stopped crying. Her hands were out in front of her in a non-threatening manner.

 

“Michael,” she spoke, her voice was soft and even sounded like Ray’Shel’s but Miakel know she was not Ray’Shel. “Michael, you need to listen to me, honey. Calm down, please.” Miakel was unable to calm himself, he was sure of that much. He kept glancing around, watching people’s faces. Most seemed as scared as he himself felt, but mostly, they all looked confused.

 

“Where am I?” Miakel demanded, speaking softly.

 

“Michael, honey, you’re at Journey National Medial Center, it’s a hospital,” the woman said.

 

“What? How’d I get here? Who are you people?” Miakel demanded. He eased up on the pressure he was putting on the man’s wrist to stop the man’s whining some. Though this woman was not Ray’Shel, he felt compelled to listen to what she had to say.

 

“You’ve been in a coma for a couple years, Michael. You were shot in the head during a robbery of the armored car you were driving. You’ve been here every since. Until today when…” she seemed to falter.

 

“Until what?” Miakel demanded.

 

“Until we were about to pull life support on you, since you’ve shown no sign of life since you were admitted,” the crying that the woman had apparently stopped only a moment earlier began again.

 

“Life support?” Miakel asked, confused.

 

“They were entrusting your life to God, Michael,” the man in the black robes said. “To let you live or die as He saw fit.”

 

“Die?” Miakel said. As he spoke that word he realized something. This was the first time since he woke up in the forest that he pondered himself dieing. Over all the past 66,825 days he had never once worried about himself dieing. Death was never a worry no matter how close he came… Miakel stopped himself and thought.

 

“Sixty-six thousand…” Miakel began. He was hit by a blast of light that blocked out all of his senses. Suddenly memories came clashing back to him. They were memories of his life, his real life. He watched himself born to James and Mary Shalmen of Detroit, Michigan. He saw himself grow, watching his life flash by. His grade school days, high school prom, college fiascos, his first real job, his new wife… His wife was the woman who was speaking to him a moment ago. Miakel knew that. He also knew his name was Michael, Michael Shalmen. What had the last 66,285 days been to him? Were they just a dream? His wife, he knew her name was Rachel, had said he was in a coma. He had been shot. Was the past 66,825 days not real then? It was then that his memories reached their culmination.

 

He saw himself driving his armored vehicle, and then the crash. Michael stumbled from the vehicle and saw a gun. He heard a bang as the gun fired and then there was black. There was one thing that he remembered, and that was the face of the man who shot him. The face of the man who nearly killed him so he was able to get his hands on the 66,825 dollars that was in the truck that evening. That was the man who Miakel had been chasing all this time without knowing exactly why. The man who’s wrist Michael was gripping hard right now. It belonged to his brother, Jacob.

 

“You…” Michael began looking down on Jacob. “YOU!” Michael roared and pulled Jacob up. He used his other hand and pulled Jacob around to face him head on. He released Jacob’s wrist and instead grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and lifted the smaller man up, placing him nose-to-nose with Michael. Though Michael had significantly less strength than Miakel, enough adrenaline was flowing to keep Jacob from moving. Jacob’s eyes were scared as he looked upon his brother. His brother, who by all accounts, should now be dead.

 

“You shot me! You shot me and took the money from the armored truck. I saw your face, I saw you pull the trigger. I have been following you all this time because you tried to KILL ME!” Michael shook Jacob each and every time he spoke to accent his point. “You tried to kill your own brother and for what? Sixty-Six thousand dollars?” Michael yelled and threw Jacob with all his might. The other man, the man Miakel had been hunting all his existence, was tossed across the room and into the wall, crashing into a small table that was in the way. Michael took a step to follow when the door burst in. Two large orderlys came in quickly.

 

“Restrain him!” shouted one of the doctors in the room. The two orderlys were on Michael in an instant, grappling him and bringing him to the ground. Michael tried to free himself from the two men but his strength was waning. He realized he had been in a coma for two years, and that moving at all was a feat, but he could not help feeling defeated knowing that Miakel would not get his revenge.

 

“Don’t hurt him!’ the woman, Michael’s wife, Rachel, shouted. She ran over to Michael and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his neck. Immediately Michael ceased his struggling. He no longer fought against the two orderlys who held him down. He took his gaze from Jacob, the man who tried to kill him. He sighed a great sigh and did something that Miakel never did. He smiled.

 

“My dear, Rachel,” Michael said. “Now that I have you again, they can do me no harm.” Rachel quickly looked up at Michael, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor. Tears began again in the woman’s eyes, not the tears of sadness that Michael was sure she was crying for him not a moment earlier, but tears of happiness. Michael felt a pinch on his shoulder as a needle went in, and his arm became slightly cold as the Valium filled his bloodstream. But he was at peace, and happy, so when the blackness came Michael was not afraid, for he knew he would soon wake from this one. The last thing he saw as he drifted off was Ray’Shel sitting atop of a red dragon and looking down on him.

 

“Well done, my Screaming Shaman,” Ray’Shel said, a soft smile across her lips. “You’ve won.” And then there was nothing but blissful and dreamless sleep.