Alais - Preface

The harvest was over. We had food for the winter, we had seeds for the coming year, and we even had enough surplus crops to trade for a little money or clothing. All was well in my tiny corner of the world, and I couldn't have been happier.

I had left the little cottage just before sunrise to watch the autumn dawn. Autumn dawns were the most spectacular in our tiny village. You could watch the sun peek over the mountains on the horizon, then carefully cast faint, long shadows across the fields in the East. I sat on the damp ground, watching the end of the sunrise. I hadn't woken early enough to catch the first part of the dawn, but I remembered it from last autumn. The sun was burned on my memory, and it brought tears to my eyes just remembering that first dawn I saw.

"Alais? Alais! Come inside, child, and get ready for the harvest fair!" a shrill voice came from behind me. I turned around and watched Ma squint into to the early morning sunlight, looking for me. Reluctantly, I stood up and brushed the earth off my dress. I understood why Ma was so anxious for me to be looking my best for the harvest fair; it was the one of the few times a year in which I came into contact with people from other villages and towns. At fifteen, I was overdue to marry. Although I wasn't anxious to marry, I was content to wait. I had watched my eldest sisters' struggle with their own children for the last two years, and had mourned at Sybille's death in childbirth. I would marry, but I wouldn't rush into it.

Ma, however, was another story. I was a girl, and I would always be a child to her until I was married. Children are no use to their parents, especially if they're unmarried girls. At least boys can work on the land and do manual work. Girls just aren't as strong or utile as boys. She was desperate to get rid of me, and introducing me to other men was likely to find me a match.

I trudged back to the cottage, dreading the berating I would get for dirtying my dress so early in the morning. I trailed my fingers along the stone walls, enjoying the rough, uneven surface brushing my fingertips. The beaten earth under my feet was soothingly cool in the unseasonably hot October. I pushed aside the worn, crudely-made door and looked up into my mother's flustered face.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you why this is so important," she lectured. "I need you to look perfect, alluring but modest, just enough to attract husbands. You need a husband, your father and I can't house you forever. This harvest was good; it must be a good omen. Fate is on our side, Alais; I just know you'll be wedded by the winter. Now let me dust down your dress, you've got it all dirty." Ma was a traditional village wife, all superstitious and cautious. We're fortunate we live in our village. I've heard other women have been harmed for such beliefs in bigger towns. News like that made me glad I lived such an isolated lifestyle. It was monotonous, but I'd never known any different.

The sun rose higher into the sky as Ma, Maura and I walked along the dusty road into the town. It looked more like a snake's eye than the sun when I pressed my eyes half shut, glaring down at us. I'm sure Ma would have seen a bad omen in that, so I didn't point it out. Our bare feet stung on the hot ground, but not one of us complained. We walked in near silence to the village, each anticipating the other's actions when we arrived. I was never sure what Ma would do around men, but it always seemed to scare them away. She would be overbearing, embarrassing, and as soon as I got a conversation started with one man she'd introduce another one.

Maura was much more predictable. Ever since the death of her twin, Sybille, she'd changed. She was there to show off how much better I was compared to her. She was dull, and always wore a scowl on her face. She was pretty, but she hid it well. She was only sixteen, but she acted like an old woman. She cared little about her appearance, and Ma let her neglect it around the time of harvest so it would be terrible at the harvest fair.

I thought back to the time when she'd been so full of life, so happy. When Sybille had been alive. They'd been inseparable throughout their childhood, refusing to grow up until Sybille was married and had moved into her husband's cottage. When she became pregnant, Maura was so happy. When the time came for the baby to be born, Sybille became weaker. She struggled through childbirth and died, taking Maura's soul with her. The baby was stillborn. Maura was never the same. The flaxen-haired maidens were gone, replaced with a girl aged before her time.

We arrived in the town. I've forgotten its name. To me, it was always just 'the town'. It was bustling with people of all ages, shapes and from every village. People sat along the main road surrounded by their goods. Ma stopped here, setting down her own basket of vegetables and motioning for Maura and me to go away. Maura left me soon after, making her way towards the small chapel in town. It would be empty at this time of day, which was ideal for her. I kept walking, because down at the end of the street was my favourite part of the fair: the dance.

This part of the fair was brilliant. It was full of foreign, interesting, exotic people and things, none of which I could afford, but everything I could fantasise about. The music was fantastic, nothing like the local songs, all full of mysterious rhythms and odd words that meant nothing to me. Beautiful women in beautiful clothes, all covered in silky cloth, spinning round and round in circles with handsome men, telling stories with their bodies. They wove in and out of the music, staring into each other's eyes, hands clasped. Then the music stopped, the magic ended, and the dancers parted. But it didn't stop. New dances started, old and new, and I always joined in.

The pan-pipes blew out a languid rhythm, soon accompanied by the fiddle and all the rest of the musicians. A voice warbled a haunting melody. It was new, and it was astonishing. I ran forwards into the music, into the circle of onlookers, and danced. I let go of all my stresses, all my daily troubles, and just danced. Although I didn't know the song, I just knew it was right. I spread my arms, lifted my legs, bent my body forwards and backwards, lost in the music. I was aware of a man dancing along with me, but he was insignificant. It was the music I loved, though I stared into his eyes the way the other dancers did. He lifted me into his arms, and spun me around, planting me gently back on my feet. I leapt and twirled, ducked and weaved across the circle. The circle expanded and shrank, getting as close to me as it dared, always staying just out of reach.

I felt the music coming to a close, and I slowed, coming to a pose as the crowd cheered. I turned to thank the man, but he was walking across the circle, heading towards a new stand where a small group of people were gathered. I followed, running to catch up.

I skidded to a halt at the back of the silent gaggle of people. They were all young men and women, and they were all transfixed with whatever was happening on the stand. I walked briskly around to the side of the raised platform, and stopped.

An old man sat on a chair with snakes wrapped around his arms and neck. Not just any snakes, sand vipers. I recognised the snakes from the horror stories Sybille and Maura used to tell me when I was younger, recognised the little horn of scales on the end of its nose, recognised the black markings on its back. Sand vipers were deadly, though they didn't live here. The sun beat down on the man and his snakes, which sat, agitated, on his body. Hissing emanated from their mouths, their tongues flickering in and out in a hypnotising rhythm.

The music in the background changed, becoming languid again. The man stood up abruptly.

"Young lady," he said in a near-whisper. "Would you like to touch the snake?" His brown, snake-clad arms stretched towards me, but I didn't pull away. Morbid curiosity drew me back. My upturned arm, pale next to his dark arm, extended towards the grey body of the snake coiled on his arm. I stared into its eyes, and they stared back into me. It stopped hissing, and coiled back.

Then it struck.

The old man pulled his arm back, but not fast enough. I felt its fangs sink into my wrist. Instead of slowing down, the world sped up. I jerked my hand back. A few of the onlookers screamed. The man I danced with ran towards me. The old man stuffed the snakes into their boxes.

And my wrist hurt. Really hurt, like a nagging, burning fire that started creeping up my arm from my wrist. I stared at the two bloody puncture wounds in my skin. It had bitten me. Really bitten me. Was I going to die?

"Are you alright? Please, sit down. We need to sit you down." The young man urged. His voice was the same lilting tone as the old man's, but his skin was a different colour. It was a creamy, earthy colour, unlike the old man's nut brown. He took my unbitten hand and pulled me towards the ground. It rushed up to meet me, my legs suddenly weak. My head swam.

"Can you still hear me? Alais, can you tell me where your mother is?"

I stared at his face. His features were all even, except for his eyes. They were too large for his face. It would have been beautiful in a woman, but he wasn't a woman. In him, they were searching. The irises were a deep green, like the colour of old pine needles. His lips were parted in worry. I wondered why. He didn't know me; he'd only danced with me once, and I'd never seen him before today. Maybe he'd fallen in love with me. Ma would be happy.

"Alais, please listen. Can you hear me?" his voice was getting further away, like I was floating away down a river and he was on the banks. I pulled myself back towards his voice. I wasn't about to die. That would be ridiculous. I was only fifteen; I had at least twenty years left in me.

"I need to get her somewhere cool. If I can get her somewhere cooler, I might be able to remove the poison, but only if she's cold!" he called to the crowd.

"Take her to the chapel!" someone from the crowd shouted back.

"Someone go and find her mother!" someone else contributed.

He picked me up like a ragdoll. I lay limp in his arms. It hurt. And moving made me feel sick and dizzy. I looked down at my wrist. The flat skin had swollen up to twice the size, and the skin was going an unhealthy purple colour. Tears pricked at my eyes as I saw my wrist. This was serious. I'd been bitten by a sand viper, and this man thought he could heal me by cooling me down. I thought I was delirious. I let out a little laugh, and looked up at his face. He wore a serious expression, and his pace quickened. The sky was royal blue, the type of sky you only get in the summer. The wispy clouds crowned his head like a woollen hat. Then the chapel spire interrupted my perfect sky, turning it into the blank grey of the chapel ceiling. What was he going to do in here? Pray for my life to a god most people around here didn't have much faith in? What kind of a god would help someone who never went to church a day in her life and whose mother would be branded a witch?

He set me down on the cold floor. My bare arms froze against the stone. I watched as the man close the big wooden doors against the panicked observers. He walked back over to me and sat down next to me.

"That should never have happened. Malger usually has more control over his pets than that; I knew I should have stopped him." He stopped ranting and looked down at my face. "But that won't change what happened to you. You're going to die. The poison is going to eat your flesh, and your heart will bleed on the inside."

Tears tricked down my face at his words. So this was it. My life over, and I didn't even know his name. He'd been so kind to me, but there was nothing else anyone could do for me. I wanted to die of old age, happy in a bed surrounded by my grandchildren, hopefully after leading a fulfilled life. Not on some stone floor in a house of a god I didn't care for, with my flesh rotted and my blood seeping out of my heart. I'd never dance again.

"You'll die. But I can offer you a choice, Alais. Die, and stay dead. Die, and return as Lamia. I shouldn't offer you this choice, but I am. You dance like us, but you shouldn't die like us; alone." His voice was full of quiet passion, his eyes intense.

I tried to talk, but all I could make was a strangled squeak. I jerked my head a little in an awkward nod. I didn't want to die. Whatever a Lamia was, it was better than being dead.

So that was the decision that changed my life forever. I don't regret it, not really.