Ajo: Chapter Twenty-One

Years crawled and flew by.

The creature's mind was a constant fog of muddled feelings and meanings, and when it tried to grasp at them for too long it became uncomfortable, so it accepted those fleeting images of what might be its past as trivial things. Everything important, it decided, was waiting in the future.

In the meantime, it looked for ways to distract itself.

It discovered magic and entertained itself with tricks and mischief. At first the creature was much like a child, concerned only with the bliss of exploration.

But there was always a note of despair within it.

And anger.

Loneliness.

The woman who created it said to wait.

Wait and punish.

When an animal wandered into its path, a dove with a broken wing, the creature caught it and held it close.

"What are you?" the creature asked.

The dove shivered.

"You're afraid of me," the creature noted. "Should I be feared?"

The dove said nothing.

The creature could not decide what to do, so it conjured a cage and locked the animal inside. It tied the cage to one of its exposed ribs, intending to keep its prisoner until a proper course of action became obvious. The black that pumped from the creature's heart splashed across the poor bird, covering it from beak to talon, but its captor did not notice.

More cages joined quickly after. When there was no room left on its ribs, it tied prisoners to its horns. Then its wrists. It wore a few of them around its neck. It became a burden to carry them all, and space on its body was growing scarce. More time was needed to devise a plan for them, so a new place was required to keep them.

And it knew the perfect tree for the task.

The trunk bore ugly scars but its base was beautifully adorned. The air around it was filled with sorrow, and the name of the creature's enemy grew louder in its mind when it drew close.

Only the cries of prisoners would drown it out.

And so, its collection began.

It came upon a fairy village nearby and added its people to the hoard. The glow of a thousand sprites became a beacon to light the creature's way back.

The beings imprisoned were not happy about their fate, but their jailor liked it this way. The pleas and cries made it feel less alone, and the combined agony in the tree gave it great pleasure, to know that others shared its misery. When their anguish swelled to a thunderous roar, the sound became a perfect reflection of the torment inside its soul.

Soon the branches were full and began to dip, so the creature used its magic to grow more, and widened the trunk to hold the massive weight.

But it was never enough.

It came to pass that all the beings in the woods feared it and fled from its path—but none were quick enough to evade its speed.

It drained the color of the tree's bark to leave a startling white, so all would know to whom the collection belonged:

The most powerful beast in the woods.

Sometimes when it hunted, it called to things it could not remember.

"Gretch," it once said without thinking, "are you here?"

When it spoke the name its heart fluttered and pushed ichor from its ribs at a more quickened pace.

The beast could not guess what it meant.

***

It was attaching the latest capture to the tree when a woman found it.

The creature turned to face her and the woman took a horrified step back. A twitch of embarrassment passed through it, that its visage should make one so lovely hesitate.

But it was pleased to know that she understood fear, too.

And it was excited to add her beauty to the tree.

"Ajo?" she asked in a whisper. "This cannot be you."

The creature recoiled as a thorn of meaning scratched its mind.

"Who are you?" it asked.

The woman's mouth fell open in a gape as her eyes roamed over its horns and feathers, and the ghastly skull that did not move or show emotion.

"You don't know my face?" she asked.

It ignored her question and touched a bottle containing a fish with an emerald tail.

"My treasures are wonderful, aren't they? You can't have them."

"I am the Queen of the Wood. Do you remember me?"

"They're awaiting my judgment. I'm going to punish them, but I don't know how."

"Ajo—"

"What is that?"

"It's your name. Ajo."

"I don't like it. I prefer the one given to me by the woods. The Collector." It tapped a lamp holding a fanged firefly. "It fits me. I collect."

"Yes, that is why I've come."

"You'll help me? I need to gather—"

"I've come to put a stop to this. And to take you home."

It pondered the meaning of that word.

"This tree is my home."

"No, Ajo." She offered her hand. "Come with me. We will find a way to dispel this...curse." She scanned the branches. Hundreds of pleading eyes peered back at her. "Remember that you are loved. I am your mother."

The word mother pricked like a wasp's touch.

"I don't want to remember," it hissed.

"You must."

"Why?"

"Because you are the King of the Wood."

"I am...king?" The skull tilted to show confusion.

"Yes. You have a duty to the woods. To rule it with a loving hand. Not hold its people captive." She took a step forward. "Release these prisoners and come with me."

It bristled. "No. I was made to punish. I have no mother." It moved towards her, and when the Queen flinched at its approach, anger swelled inside of it. "If you will not help me with my collection, you will join it."

She shook her head sadly. "It's for the best then, that you have forgotten everything."

The creature grunted and conjured another cage. It wasn't sure why it didn't move to ensnare the woman, why something held it back.

"I will reclaim my throne and forget my heir," she continued, "and Galeia's child will never have to know she was bound to a monster." She looked at the gnarled organ beneath the creature's charred ribs. "You could never love Credence, for there is no heart left within you."

Those names sizzled in its memory, unfurling to reveal the bloom of a terrible secret.

Galeia. The name of an enemy. It hated that name, because Galeia was the keeper of its greatest treasure.

Galeia kept its destiny.

And the reason it was waiting—

Credence.

A promise to take what it deserved when the time came.

Warmth spread through the creature. The collection in its tree was not a prison, it realized, but a gift for the one it waited for.

It shuddered and the monstrous visage melted away, revealing a man beneath. His eyes were red and his cheeks were sunken, but there remained a whisper of a handsome, noble face.

"Credence is my destiny. She will be my queen, and I, her king—"

"You will not be king."

Quick as lightning he moved to strike, but the Queen leapt from his path. He tried several times to catch her, unsure whether he would end her life or imprison her, but she proved the only capable of evading his grasp.

"You choose to be a monster, so you will live as one." A tear fell on her cheek. "I banish you, Ajo. From my castle and my light. Let the sun burn your skin and sting your eyes, to drive you into the darkest corners of the woods. And when she comes of age, I pray Credence proves strong enough to do what I cannot, and cast you into an abyss you cannot crawl from."

"She will love me."

"How could she?"

He lashed out again but the Queen moved gracefully from his reach, not sparing a drop of sweat in the motion. She knew something kept him from using full force—Not love, but confused patience. It was a dangerous sign, for patience was a thing that eventually ended. She looked at the cages swinging around them.

"You intend to lock the woods in this tree?" When he didn't answer she nodded. "Then I will give the woods a fighting chance."

Orbs of light hovered above her palms. They were singing, their high-pitched voices like angelic bells. Their beauty was frightening and intriguing, so he conjured a bottle to contain them.

"There will always be a place in my heart for the son I lost," the Queen said. "But not for the thing he's become."

When she flicked her wrist the lights flew towards his feet, and he followed their path only to watch them disappear into his ankles. There was a tingling, neither painful nor pleasant, and the singing died as rope grew from his skin and tightened around him. From the rope burst dozens of metal spheres.

Bells.

"What is this?" he asked.

He moved towards the Queen but stopped when the bells unleashed a melodious shriek.

"You are not the power you think you are," the Queen said. "You will no longer be allowed to slither about undetected. And if Credence seeks to outrun you, let the cry of the bells hasten her escape."

"She cannot outrun her fate," he warned. "It binds her to me."

"We'll see," the Queen said.

She faded into the air, but her voice echoed one final condemnation.

"I loved you, Ajo. But for the sake of the woods, I hope you get none of what you desire, and all of what you deserve."

***

The Queen had not lied.

His movement under the sun was slow, and the touch of its rays ached his body. Night was a blessing, where he could move quickly and freely, and though the moon's light singed him it was a minor sting against the claws of day.

But the sun was little more than a nuisance compared to the punishment around his ankles. He combated the pain by vanishing into the wind where the torment was not as great, though he could do nothing to dim their singing.

Ever since the Queen's visit, the name Galeia troubled him more than ever before. She had once been important. She was once like him, a thing of the woods, before she became his most hated enemy. There had been a betrayal. The feeling of being immensely hurt by her. He didn't know how, but the Queen had played a part in it.

"Ah," he said to the trees, "I remember."

Galeia married a human. Why should that bother him?

There was also shame, and he knew he had done something abhorrent, though he could not remember what. Those feelings were tied to another, the daughter Galeia kept from him—but only for a short time.

All would hate him, for all of time, except one.

And that was enough.

So he stalked the woods, waiting for his moment to be loved. That was the other half of his purpose, he decided. To be loved, in time, by Credence.

He wasn't sure what love looked or felt like, but he knew he deserved it.

He did not know when, but he had begun to cry, and a stream of anguish poured from his lungs. When he could not stand it any longer he disappeared, dissolving into a chilling breeze that shook the nature around it, but his cries remained, echoing through the trees until they too became one with the howling wind.

***

He worked diligently to grow the collection.

With the horrible bells jangling after his movements, he could not catch near the numbers he had before, and he had to rely more and more on cunning and deceit. Sometimes he bartered with other beasts in the woods to help ensnare his prey. Eventually, he learned to create his own servants and soldiers, molding them from mud and ash. Their minds were blank, but he found a shallow companionship in the ghouls and demons and menacing sprites, who danced and pulled faces for his pleasure before he sent them into the woods to carry out dreadful mischief.

He did not attempt to find Galeia or Credence, for he had no interest in knowing either of them.

Galeia was an obstacle, nothing more.

Credence was his most valued treasure, and it was not important to waste energy seeking her, for he knew, in time, she would come to him.

Perhaps they would punish the prisoners in the collection together, or rule them as royalty over faithful subjects. Neither path held particular sway with him, for the collection was a gift that belonged to Credence, and she alone would decide its fate.

And then came the sound of destiny.

A voice carried through the woods, louder than the bells that echoed his steps and heavier than the sorrow that plagued his mind. It took him several moments to realize it was not coming from some distant place, but from within himself.

Another soul was singing, like a beacon to guide him home.

Credence.

When he focused he caught a glimpse of her dreams. He spoke to her, urging her to join him in the woods. Her image was blurry but he pressed on, hoping his invitation was clear.

He fashioned a new servant with the belly of a spider and the face of a woman. As he molded the mud, a flood of images came to him, fleeting memories he couldn't remember making. He gave his minion the gift of speech and whispered his words into her ear, so that she could greet Credence on his behalf. He believed the gesture would appear as the etiquette of nobility.

When the spider took her first breath, he addressed her.

"You remember your charge?"

"Yes, master." Her smile showed pointed teeth. He thought her an exquisite combination of hideous and regal.

"Credence is the one that matters. Hurt anyone who tries to keep her from us."

He sent her off and took a bottle from the tree's collection. Inside, a mermaid cowered under his gaze.

"My gifts," he mused, "you will delight her."

The messenger returned with ill news, and the Collector's equine skull showed no emotion as he listened, his claw still cradling the mermaid's bottle.

"She said she will stay with her family," the messenger explained. "There's a shield around her that I could not get past, or I would have dragged her away."

A jagged line split on the bottle. The mermaid inside opened her mouth, and her scream formed a cloud of bubbles around her.

"But I got them good," the messenger continued, surprising her creator. "Wounded one of the males. There's a servant inside who will continue your bidding."

"How did it get past the shield?"

"I used their tools against them. The shield is weakening, master, and I sensed its power waning even as I tested it. It will not hold for much longer."

He set the mermaid's bottle on the ground. A thin stream of water began to trickle from the crack.

"What does my destiny look like?" he asked.

The messenger grinned.

"She looks like...yours."

***

The one who called herself the Queen of the Wood returned to him.

She was not a friend, and her arrival had no doubt come from a desire to stop him.

The second she appeared he attacked, not letting a word fall from her lips, and though her movements were swift he caught her off guard and wrapped his black tendrils around her waist and throat. His horns pierced through her shoulders and sank into the bark behind her, trapping her between tree and assailant.

"You will not interfere with my destiny," he snarled. "Choose now, your obedience or your death."

Her hand raised towards his face and he mistook the motion as an attack. He drove his claws into her stomach and the Queen uttered a pained shout—but her hand found its way to his skull and caressed the bone of what would have been his cheek.

The intimacy of her touch made him recoil, and he withdrew his claws from her body. They stared at each other for a long moment, both contemplating their next course of action.

"Leave me," he said at last. "I don't know why I release you but—"

"You know why, Ajo," she whispered.

He pushed away from her, taking his horns and tendrils from her body.

"Do not seek me out again," he warned. "Next time I will show no mercy."

***

It was night and he was approaching the house, intent on taking Credence into the woods.

"What will Galeia make of you now?"

It took him a moment to recognize the hag who made him. When he ignored her, Lilith put her hand on his cowl to stop him. The organ beneath his ribs twitched.

"I'm not afraid of you," the witch said, "but in that house are those who should be. They will try to keep you from what is yours."

"She will come when I call."

"No, they have poisoned the girl's mind against you. You cannot reason with any of them, for they will not hear words, and you should not listen to theirs. Destroy everything that keeps you from what you want. Make it so there's not an inch left to shield them from your power."

She lifted her hand from his body.

"Galeia is more desperate than I thought. A worm carried a letter from her. She wants me to protect the child. She wants me to keep her from you. And she believes I'll do it."

She snickered.

"Galeia's going to betray you again. Don't give her the chance."

***

Tendrils wrapped around the antlers of a great buck.

The Collector was furious, for the animal had helped Credence escape.

The buck spoke, and its voice carried an unexpected nostalgia.

"Ajo...Ajo! What have you done to your mother?"

Did the animal know him?

"Stop and remember me. Isolam."

That name put fear into him. When he tore an antler away and dug it into the animal's neck, there was a brief, frightful recognition that Isolam was an old friend.

He mourned the animal as he buried it beneath the tree that held the collection.

But grief had to be pushed aside.

It was a weakness, and nothing could stop him from reaching Credence.

***

Lilith's bones twisted and snapped.

He held her stare, watching his reflection in her eyes, content that he would be the last thing she saw. He did not spare another look at her corpse but moved into the purple house. With the witch gone, so too were her enchantments and shields, and the wedding garb she had conjured on his body faded back into robes of night.

Now, all the contents amassed over a lifetime of evil were at his disposal. There was strong energy here, an undeniable echo of agony, though it was no surprise that a place like this would hold on to suffering. He inspected each room, starting with the bedroom that belonged to Credence. He touched the pillow that once held her head and the thin sheet that had covered her sleeping form.

He found a locked door and whispered to it, and when it opened he took a step back.

There, from floor to roof, was bottles and bowls of him.

For a moment he stared in wonder, then approached the containers to examine them. It was strange to watch himself in the moving images, and more discomforting to have no recollection of such memories being made.

Instinctively, he held one of the bottles to his lips and tipped the contents into his mouth.

A memory came to him with such force that he stumbled back.

Galeia was laughing at something he said, but she was not mocking or being hateful.

He remembered that he adored the sound of her laughter.

He understood what power this room contained.

After several hours he left the purple house.

What he found inside grew a cloud over an already gloomy occasion, and it was enough to have glimpsed his life without any of the feeling attached to it. The haunting images didn't seem real after a passing glance, and that suited him. There was no reason, he decided, to rejoin all of his past with his present—though there was cause, he felt, to add some of his present to the place where he could forget it.

When his master appeared in the doorway of the purple house, the servant who was waiting in the yard instantly observed a change in his demeanor.

"Was Credence in there?" John asked.

The Collector moved to the remains of the witch, and John believed her body would be promptly torn apart.

"She is gone," the Collector answered. "We will continue our hunt."

He glanced at the carcass of the thief. Lilith had kept more from him than he ever could have guessed, but now he would be the decider of what he remembered and what remained in a bottle on a shelf.

He raised his hands and the house began to shake. In his mind, he saw everything within crumble and change, as the walls broke and reformed to suit his purpose. The ground opened beneath it and the structure began to sink, until its roof was below the dirt and all that could be seen was a door against the earth.

He took a bottle from his robes, one of a precious few he had chosen to reclaim, and lifted its cork. John caught a glimpse of something moving inside the bottle, but it was too quick to discern before the Collector tipped the contents into his mouth.

A quake ran through him, as a memory of Galeia eating dinner by his side overtook his mind.

How voraciously she ate.

A wondrous feeling of adoration swept through him.

That was love. That was what he would share with Credence.

"What is that, master?" John asked warily.

"Same as what's beneath the ground. A relic of my past."

"There's more? Why not have them all?"

The Collector ignored the question. "No one can go inside this vault."

As John moved to his master's side, a hiss left his lips. The wounds on his body were not fresh but still in a sore state, and frequently bled through whatever John managed to bandage them with.

The Collector thought nothing of it. The half-man would either die or continue to serve.

A bowl appeared in the Collector's hand, filled with another moving image. This time, John managed to see handwriting on a page before it disappeared into the Collector's mouth.

Poetry. The Collector remembered writing poetry.

A wild thing lives here, in my heart...

There was a book, a special item, and it was waiting at the Queen's castle. It would need to be retrieved.

"Is it wise to just take a few?" John interrupted his remembering.

"If I am to have love I must first understand it. But I will not have the past stain my future. I cannot be Ajo or the Collector, but must shape my memory into something new."

"Forgive me, master, but...to pull your mind in so many directions...could it not prove harmful?"

"Credence deserves no less than all of my heart. This is the only way I can give it to her." He turned to his servant. "A throne sits empty, and I will claim it. The woods will have their rightful king—and queen."

"We'll need soldiers to take the castle."

"I have no use for the rooms of a bygone monarchy. I will build one of my own. And you will help bring the woods under the control of its new ruler."

"What of the old one?"

"She disobeyed my order to not interfere. And as she refuses to aid me in my endeavors, she will remain in the vault with the other relics."

"Could she not escape? The Queen—"

"Has no more power. Kneel."

With difficulty, John lowered himself to the ground.

"I am your faithful subject, King of the Wood."

"All my subjects will prosper in a new, glorious kingdom. Or die in their refusal to submit."

***

Credence blinked, suddenly aware she had reached the end of Ajo's memories.

There was nothing more to peer into, and the room, though filled with hundreds of objects, felt empty. The images around her continued to move, endlessly repeating.

A chill ran through her.

She had lived a lifetime in this room—

But there were two more doors to open.

Why had Ajo placed that final memory here? Perhaps, because it held a trace of Galeia, he needed to bury it. To understand love without the stain of his past.

She took a moment to calm her dizzied mind before leaving the room behind the red door.

Her hand touched the moon on the green door and she pushed it open with great hesitance.

With all his memories contained behind the red door, what more was there to find?

Her desire to uncover the secrets in Ajo's vault had waned, and she was slowed by the burden of all she had discovered.

But she had to press on.