Prologue: Sapphire's nightmare
Time: very early morning, July 7, 1994
Place: rural Polk County, Tennessee
She was cold, painfully cold, and her eyes strained against blackness that was almost palpable. Strange sounds surrounded her -- rattlings and scrapings, as though dry leaves were stirring -- but she felt no wind. Something big and wheezy as an asthmatic bear was breathing nearby, but in the unnatural dark, she could see nothing.
Then she heard the first scream. It was her mule, braying and screaming like she had never heard it do before. She tried to call it's name, but no sound came out. She wanted to run to it, but seemed frozen in place; perhaps literally frozen. She was so cold. With great effort she tried to take a step into the blackness where the sound came from. Instantly, there were other screams. It sounded as though her mule had been joined by an equine chorus that neighed frightfully from the very air above and echoed all around.
"Blackie!" she called desperately, but her voice was so weak it was only a whisper. The breathing sounds drew closer and along with them, human voices chanting together with seeming urgency in a strange language. Was that Latin? She knew lots of botanical Latin, but it was hard to understand these words. A blazing silver light exploded before her face and she let out a strangled screamed.
With the scream, she became conscious of the bed beneath her. She heard no more of the scraping noises or voices or braying, but the blackness and cold were still there. It was hard to think, but she did note that her clothes were damp and that she was on top of the bed covers, rather than under them. She felt for the edge of the mattress and under it. Her right hand connected with the cold metal object that she sought. Now her thoughts cleared a bit. She pulled the thing from it's casing under the mattress and sat up, concentrating on the way it felt in her hand. The blackness of night in the dense woods gave way the slightest bit to a slender ray of moonlight that had filtered through the space above the cabin.
It was then that she realized she had no memory of how she came to be on top of the bed covers in damp day clothes. Her shoes were still on her feet, too. She reached left handed for a flashlight on the night table and swung her feet onto the floor. Her head swam violently and she gripped the bed, swallowing and hoping she wouldn't be ill right there. When several minutes and most of the vertigo had passed, she turned on the light. Nothing else seemed amiss in the room. Then she remembered Blackie. She switched off the light, pocketed it and stood. With great effort she steadied herself and began to move so quietly that even someone in the room with her would hear no footfalls. She reached the door of the cabin. It was closed, but when she felt for the latch, it's string was outside -- not the way she left it when she went to bed every other night of the world. She decided that the worst of the dizziness was over, and took a better grip on the thing in her hand. She put her ear to the latchstring hole. There were voices outside. Sapphire held her breath.
"Are you dead sure it worked?" said a slightly hoarse woman's voice.
"She's out cold. By the time she wakes tomorrow, she won't remember a thing," said the high, clear voice of what seemed a young man.
"I don't like it at all," said the first voice. "What will she make of this?"
"Don't that just beat everything? I never heard of dementors attacking an animal," said a deeper sounding man's voice.
Sapphire strained to hear; what had they said attacked an animal? Some sort of "demon"?
"Can we revive it?" said the woman?
"I suppose it will be all right. How can they suck the soul out of a dumb beast that hasn't one?" said the young man.
"I wouldn't be too sure about the beast not having a soul! I defy you to look into my Whisker's eyes and tell me that cat has no soul," said the woman in an offended tone. "Besides, there's something special about this animal. Did you see how it ran between her and them? I think it could see, or at least sense, the dementors and wanted to protect her."
"More than wanted," said the bass voice, "the beast almost surely saved her."
At this Sapphire realized that they must be talking about Blackie. Could she risk taking on three of them, assuming there weren't more, to see if the mule needed her help? She decided since Blackie wasn't calling her, and they hadn't made any remark that indicated they wanted to hurt him, she would stay still.
"This may be no ordinary mule," the older man continued. "Did you see how our mounts turned to it when it called out?"
"So, they're all horses of a sort," said the woman, "I don't see why they wouldn't be concerned if another of their kind was in distress. It's natural for herd animals."
"I've seldom seen a Thestral take an interest in a muggle horse. I think this mule may have mixed blood. Look at how dark it is, and bony. And even for a mule, the muscles on the shoulder are rather pronounced. Now isn't there a thestral breeder up near Lexington that's been crossing with muggle horses?"
"You're right at that!" said the woman. "So what is this muggle doing with a thestral crossed mule? It doesn't fit."
"What would a stable that breeds race horses want with a mule?" said the deep voice. "It was probably an accident, and they sold it as a farm animal years ago. She wouldn't know it's part thestral."
Sapphire thought some of this conversation definitely made no sense. She shook her head to clear it, and instantly regretted doing so, as she had to grip the door latch while the room swam around her. She had the powerful urge to sleep again. Almost she turned back to her bed, but stopped short when she heard the young man say, "Well, Sirius Black isn't here. And if this mule has had it's soul - or whatever the misbred part thestral freak has instead of a soul - sucked out, then there isn't a thing we can do. And if we stay around gabbing in this godforsaken forest, we'll be flying in broad daylight before we get home!"
"Why do you think the dementors came here if Black isn't here?" said the woman.
"Same reason we came!' the young voice answered. "They were sent here by the bureau -- obviously on poor intelligence, and likely because someone sited the mule and got curious. Having arrived and seeing there was no wizard to kiss, they took out their frustration on this animal when they couldn't get to the muggle. That would be just like those foul things. Believe me, when the Bureau chiefs read the report I'm about to write on their behavior tonight, they'll ban dementor use for enforcement activities, or I'll want to know why. But all of that aside, I swear if our own agents don't stop running out on wild Snorkack chases every time the Brits think they've sighted Black, we'll never do anything else. Ever since he escaped last year you'd think he was the only murderer in the world!"
The older man added, "Your right about one thing. We aren't any more use here, and we're running out of night. Mount your thestrals and let's go. "
"Do you really think the muggle will be OK?" asked the woman. "I wonder if you really needed to stun her?"
"She'll be fine, thanks," said the younger man curtly.
"Oh, don't get your back up with me!" the woman responded. "Better wizards than you have messed up obliviation charms..."
As Sapphire tried to make sense of this, the voices moved away. Shortly after came the sound of hoof falls; which quickened, then died quite suddenly, as though the horses had galloped into thin air. After several deep breaths, she gently pushed open the cabin door. Staying in the shadows and silent as a cat, she crossed the porch toward the paddock. By the dim moonlight, she saw Blackie standing alone. He seemed asleep, his head down, his breathing shallow and slow. A strong exhalation of roses filled the almost still air, and she turned to see a pile of blighted petals lying at the base of an ancient pink tea rose growing near the porch. In bewilderment, she reached for one blackened, drooping blossom that remained on the plant. The cool velvet petals fell apart at her touch and it joined it's fellows on the ground.
"Sirius?" she thought to herself. "What did they say about Sirius?" It was very hard to remember what she had heard, but she knew she must try. She gripped the blue jeweled brooch on her shirt and focused her thoughts. Then, even in the warm July night, she shivered violently.
@ 1600 words written from @4:00 to 5:30 AM cdt on 7/7/2005 ; Last edit 6/04/'07
Posted by Madmaxime at June 15, 2007 02:45 PM