Talon

Blood. Sludge. Claw against meat. The rush of wind in his ears. The sting of a hostile spell. Metallic blood in his nostrils. Pain – his, that of others. All indistinguishable. Blurred shapes.

Talon creased his forehead, tail lashing from side to side in irritation. “There's still nothing concrete.”

“Take your time.” Hysteria said gently. “I can induce the hypnotic state to help you regain your memories, but only if you don't fight me.”

“…I'll try.” He closed his eyes in concentration.

Something came swimming into focus. A dragon, an imperial. A name attached itself to her face: Calliope. She was plague and heavily mutated, several eyes sprouting from her chest and shoulders. She held a powerful staff in her claws. The sight of her set him on edge: familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

Talon found that he couldn't move his head, or even his eyeballs. It was like they had been glued into place.

“My lieutenant.” She purred. Talon felt her claws brush along his side, felt his head lower in a submissive bow. “You have done so well.”

Nausea crept along Talon's spine. He wanted to open his eyes, to ask Hysteria to stop the hypnotic trance, but he found himself completely paralysed.

“How many did you kill today?”

“Twenty one.” His throat opened without his consent. It was like she was pulling the answer from him. He wanted to shudder.

“Excellent.” The eyes on her chest and shoulders blinked. “Alyosha's Clan will be decimated in no time with the help of dragons like you.” She shot him a look of appraisal. “What is your name?”

“I have no name.”

“Good. What is your purpose?”

“To kill as you see fit.”

The scene started shifting again. Relief washed over Talon. Anything else. Anywhere but there. Anyone but her.

But he soon found himself regretting his optimism. It was his nightmare of falling and falling into the Wyrmwound. Of being brought back all wrong by Calliope, with the flesh from his face and forelegs eviscerated. Of coming back as a thrall, as something bound to obey and to kill. Of all the dragons he killed. No, not that he killed – that the hollow thing wearing his body killed.

Talon awoke with a shudder.

“How did it go?” Hysteria asked.

“I remembered more. More than the nightmares. Still mostly just images, sounds unrelated to anything in particular. But I caught a real memory of her.”

“The imperial who reanimated you?”

“Yes.” Talon found himself wanting to conform to Hysteria's pearlcatcher behaviour, found himself wanting his own pearl. He pushed the urge down.

“That must have been difficult.”

Talon didn't reply. He was fixated on what it had been like to be a spectator in his own body. Wondering if it had been like that the whole time he'd been controlled, or if maybe he had some autonomy. He didn't know which would be worse.

“Do you find it hard, being in the army with your history? We could get you reassigned. I hear that they're looking for someone to handle food preparation.”

“Fighting is all I can do anymore. It’s the only thing my past doesn't interfere with.” The muscle memory was unnerving with his amnesia as it was. He had fought in situations like those so many times that his retaliation and evasion had become instinctive, and yet he didn't remember a single fight in its entirety. Just bits and pieces. When had he learned that? How many times had he fatally executed that response?

“Very well. I'm sure you need to rest after that. Come back tomorrow and we can try to engage with your past again.”

Talon nodded and left. He didn’t trust his voice not to shake.

He thought about the red haze he had instead of tangible memories. Thought about coming back tomorrow, if he really wanted to remember what it had been like.

Then he remembered that Calliope was dead. That he had seen her dead; it was what had released him. And with her gone, who could make amends? Someone should know the extent of the damage the necromancer and her thralls had done.

Talon wandered back to the battlefield with determination smouldering within. Someday, he would learn everything he had done. And on that day he would no longer be a stranger to himself.