hwango

"Are you ready?" Taya's mother asked her. "Are you alright? It is nearly time."

"I'm ready. I'm fine," Taya lied. Taya was trying to put on a brave front, but the truth was that she was terrified. When she stepped forward and knelt on a cushion a few feet from the brass archway, part of her was actually relieved. At least she was off of her feet. At least her legs wouldn't give out and leave her sprawled on the floor quivering in terror.

But whatever relief she felt was slight indeed compared to the overwhelming sense of dread. Taya was waiting for The Listener.

Taya tried to keep her gaze away from the arch itself, as if ignoring it would make it less real. This corner of the throne room was quite plain apart from the arch and the floor around it. Decorations would be pointless, since this part of the chamber often remained out of sight for decades at a time.

Taya had been here before, of course. When she was eight years old, she and her older brother Kohl had snuck out of bed in the middle of the night and crept into the throne room. She had dared him to sit on the throne, and he had. They had both barely muffled their scandalized laughter. Then Kohl had led her behind the dark, heavy curtain to the forbidden part of the throne room. The two of them had stood staring in awe for a few moments before Taya had dared him to step through the arch.

Instantly, Taya had regretted her words. Even as children both of them could feel a sense of alien malice radiating from the thing. Kohl had stood frozen for a long moment, and then he had started to cry. Taya's tears soon followed. Sobbing, she had tried to drag him by his sleeve back out into the main room, blubbering apologies all the while. In the end both of them had fled the throne room for their beds. That was the last time either of them had snuck a look at the arch.

Seeing the arch again now, Taya felt that memory come rushing back with a renewed sense of guilt. In her churning emotions she also found that a small part of her quite selfishly blamed Kohl for her current predicament. If he hadn't fallen ill and died a few years ago it would him kneeling in front of the arch, not her.

Once again, Taya tried to focus on other parts of her surroundings. The circle of strange runes on the floor around the arch. The small bundles of twigs, oddly scented candles, and weirdly-colored piles of powders and pastes. The half a dozen archers standing to either side of her. None of it would make any difference, of course, but the sages and the priests and the captain of the Royal Guard all had to be seen to make some sort of token effort to protect her from The Listener.

Over the years, various monarchs had attempted more overt means to shield their sons and daughters from this duty. Their failures served as a collective warning to later generations: "Follow the rules. You will only make things worse."

King Arcos the Foolhardy had gained his moniker when he ordered his personal guard to attack the Listener. Queen Serina the False had presented a serving boy instead of her true son. King Torkun the Runner collapsed the ancestral castle, buried the arch under tons of rock, and constructed a new castle a mile away.

The outcome of King Torkun's plan resulted in the fewest deaths of the three, but was no more successful. On the appointed night a new arch had simply appeared in the new throne room.

It had been over a hundred years since Torkun's failure, and no king or queen had deviated from the rules since. Every few decades, the moon would turn blood red. Three days later, at midnight, the reigning monarch would present his or her eldest child before the arch to wait for The Listener. After that, they could only hope that their child was capable of the task set before them.

Taya felt a sudden chill. She could feel eyes on her - that sensation that prey felt when it was being watched by a predator. Taya nervously raised her head to see The Listener standing in the archway.

Her father had told her that The Listener looked like a wizened old hag. Up to a point, that was true. It certainly radiated a sense of terrible, unfathomable age. It stood in the arch stooped and bent, supporting itself on a cane made of bone that it clutched in gnarled fingers. But all of the old women that Taya had ever seen had deeply wrinkled skin that seemed to hang off their bones. The Listener's skin looked like translucent parchment stretched taut over a skeleton. It could not possibly be alive. There was no room in the body for life to be stored.

The thing's wispy hair and the tattered rags that it wore both billowed about as if the creature stood in a fierce wind, but the air in the room was still. The flame of a candle set between The Listener and Taya did not even flicker.

Slowly, the thing began to take shaky steps forward. As Taya expected, it crossed the lines of runes, potions, candles, and other powerless talismans without seeming to notice them. The archers stood motionless. In theory, should Taya fail, they would fire upon the creature. Taya had doubts that they would be able to summon the courage to do so, and even less confidence that if they did that it would matter.

The Listener stopped only a few inches away from Taya. The thing's hair still flailed in the nonexistent gale, the tips of it nearly brushing Taya's face. The Listener turned its head to one side as if straining to hear. Its lips parted, and the barest whisper escaped them.

"begin."

Every child of royal blood was prepared for this moment, just in case they were called upon. Obviously it was most important for the eldest to be ready for it, but accidents, illness, or other misfortune could place any child of royal blood in this position, just as it had Taya. Many lived their lives without ever needing their training for its intended purpose. Since the blood moon had appeared three days ago, Taya been working nearly every moment that she was awake to make sure that she was ready.

Still, for a horrible moment, Taya just sat there paralyzed by her fear. Deep down, she had been hoping that for some reason The Listener wouldn't come, and that she wouldn't be sitting mere inches from the strange and terrible being that demanded so strange a duty of her family, and which exacted so steep a price when it was not performed.

But then Taya realized that if that had happened, all of her hard work would be wasted. And in spite of the sinister reasons for her labor, she had still rather enjoyed it. This was her chance to show everyone what she had created. Taya closed her eyes, let the bizarre and terrifying circumstances fall aside, and began to speak.

"Long ago, in a faraway land, there lived a brave and handsome boy named Kohl. The only son of a poor woodcutter, Kohl spent his days hard at work while his soul yearned for greater things. Kohl knew that, some day, when he grew up, that he would be a great hero."

"One day, while gathering berries in the forest, Kohl came upon a strange set of footprints. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he set down his pail and followed them deeper into the forest…"

* * *

Taya's tale stretched on for hours. She had paused only when it was necessary to drink some water to spare her failing voice, and then she had quickly resumed her telling. She had intended it to be a true epic – something more ambitious than anything created by any of her ancestors. Of course, this was the first time she had spoken a word of it to anyone. That was what The Listener demanded – a tale that had never before been told. Taya had not even been able to make written notes as she worked. The whole of the story must be new the moment it was spoken.

"…Kohl looked out over his kingdom with pride. The wizard defeated, the dragon slain, and the princess freed from her terrible enchantment, many a hero would feel that they had done enough. Bards would sing songs of his deeds and history would remember him as a champion of the people, and for many that would indeed be enough. But his was the soul of a true hero and so, while his kingdom slept, he stole away in the night, leaving behind his riches and the accolades of his people. He wandered the land until he was far, far from home – until he found a new land that was still troubled by evil. And there…he began again."

Her tale finally complete, Taya drank deeply from her cup to ease her parched throat. Only then did she risk a look at The Listener.

It was barely recognizable. It stood straight, unbent by age or infirmity, its morbid cane mysteriously vanished. No longer did its skin cling to fleshless bones. Now it was not merely something alive, but something that was full of life. It smiled at her without a trace of the predatory hunger it had radiated when it first appeared. Slowly the creature leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Taya's forehead. And then stepped back into the archway and vanished.

* * *

As the years passed by, The Listener did not appear to any of Taya's children, nor to her children's children. Some dared to hope that perhaps it was gone forever. Some even began to wonder if there ever was such a being. Was the Listener nothing more than one of Taya's stories?

Her descendants take no chances. They still spin tales of their own, just in case.