I heard a woman and child pray over me for restoration and healing. Then I heard nothing but the faint playing of pipes.

It was December 26th, when I awoke in my bed in a pool of my own blood to find her gone. I thought it was a cruel joke. But I searched for my one true love playfully at first and then in earnest. She didn’t answer my calls. My neighbors questioned my search for my one true love. I said they took her. I stood heartbroken on the step to our door as my neighbors tried to console me, but it was no use. They pointed to a woman and said, “There is your wife. She is not missing.” I ignored them all. I overheard them say they heard I was seriously injured while hunting but I paid them no mind. I felt reborn and refreshed from my hunting trip. My mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, getting my wife back. I was incomplete and broken without her. I wept for what seemed like hours. My neighbors were afraid to approach me except for one little girl. She might have been three or four years old. She spoke in simple sentences. She was barely aware of her surroundings. She asked me why I was weeping and I told her that my one true love was gone; she was taken and I don’t know by whom. The little fairy told me exactly what I feared most, The Twelve Drummers, had taken my one true love. I wanted to question her more, but her worried mother pulled her away in a panic. She scolded the little one for talking to me. Saying I wasn’t in my right mind.

But my mind was focused and razor sharp as I swore to retrieve my one true love, Partridge. I loaded my pack as I prayed for her safety. I thought to myself it was odd to pray but it just came to me. Like second nature. I also swore in silence and in vengeance and hoped it would not negate my prayers. I grabbed my club made from the hardest pear tree wood and I was on my way. I had to hurry. They must have had a twelve-day lead on me. I feared the worst might have been done to her. I could not think of those things. I knew in my heart I had to find her and be the harbinger of death and destruction to her captors.

As I crossed the desert wasteland, my club became heavy as the hot summer sun drained the strength from me. Luckily, I happened upon a pair of turtle doves in the throes of violent courting. They were so loud and rambunctious that they did not hear me approach. I thought if I could break one of them, I could fly to the fortress to save Partridge. As their mating came to a close the female, the larger of the two, clamped down on the male’s neck and severed it from its body. The decapitated body jerked brutally. I cautiously climbed upon the female’s giant glistening shelled back as she dined upon her fallen mate. I strung a rope around her neck and pulled up, interrupting her meal. I shouted encouragement for her to take flight as I slapped and kicked her long neck. She fought against my will and tried to throw me off of her. I held on. Eventually, she gave in to my demands and bounded into the air and flew me out of the Joaquin Desert and headed in the direction of the fortress of The Twelve Drummers.

Since I had interrupted the exhausted Turtle Dove’s meal, she could fly no more and I was forced to land. She did cover a lot of land in a short time and I was very grateful to her. I continued my trek on foot and hunger overcame me as well. By chance I found three France speaking hens (France is the language of my people). I questioned them as to the direction of The Twelve Drummers’ lair. We had a short and highly risqué conversation. They playfully admired my club and I asked if they would like me to whack them with it. They thought I was speaking in sexual innuendos. They were all surprised as I systematically whacked and killed each one. The best way to describe those French hens would be; very tasty, saucy and dumb. I ate my fill and dried the rest by the fire. I did not know when or if I would eat ever again. I felt I had been on this trail before and had never been so fortunate to eat as well as I have today.

As I neared the land of The Twelve Drummers, I stopped and rested before carrying on to their lair. A heavy sleep overtook me and I began to dream. In my dream, I was in a land I did not recognize. All around me were slain people. Their bodies lay scattered about, decaying and bloated. Blood muddied the black soil I walked upon. At the center of this holocaust were four colly birds. They were no ordinary birds. Their feathers were so black it was like looking into the night sky and they were each the height of a goat. These black birds had come to collect the souls of the fallen. I stood and stared at the black birds; they stared back in return. In an instant, they came together as one, an ever shape-shifting black being and it spoke to me. Its words were jumbled and clouded and not a language I could recognize but it invoked in my mind the meaning of what it tried to convey. It wanted me to know, my days were numbered.

It continued to speak to me in its language and in my mind, I saw pictures of what it wished me to know. From its amorphous shape, a hand formed and protruded slowly toward me. Its closed fist opened and from it dropped five golden rings onto the ground. They rolled away from where they fell, turned to me as one and rolled in my direction. I picked up the five rings and placed them into my pocket. It shook its featureless face side to side and motioned from my pocket to my hands. It wanted me to place the rings on my fingers. In my head it conveyed to me that these rings were the final gift to fulfill its promise. Each time I removed a ring from my finger, it would pay a visit to me until all the rings were gone and then it would come to collect me and take me to my life’s reward. What plans it had in store for me there, I did not know. I took out the rings one at a time and placed them one by one on each digit. The first went on easily. But each succeeding ring I placed on my fingers became increasingly more difficult to place. It was as if each ring became a size smaller. But if you looked at them, they were all the exact size for the finger I placed it on. It was a horrific experience because I could not resist placing the rings on my fingers. My hands did not obey my mind but the will of the black form to compel my hands to place the rings on my fingers. The final ring was the most difficult and painful, but my hands forced it on. It was as if within the ring was a sharpened edge and sliced my skin and shaved it back. Blood gushed from my digits and strips of skin and flesh hung from my boney fingers. Had death a mouth, I would have seen the most wicked of grins. I screamed in terror and fantastic pain as my skin grew over each individual ring until they became a part of my own flesh. Pleased with the outcome, the spirit separated into the four black birds and flew away.

I awoke. My hands and arms were not covered in blood. I checked each of my fingers on both hands. My left hand was normal but my right hand I could feel five hardened rings at the base of each of my fingers.

My heart was racing and pounding in my ears from my dream. I was in need of a drink to calm my nerves. I walked to a familiar town and found the Six Geese Pub. I stumbled to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender asked if I wanted my usual and spoke my name. I was confused at first, but accepted that I had maybe said my name in my haze and possibly he asked for everyone’s usual as a way to build familiarity. I was still in a shock from my dream, so I did not care. I quickly downed my drink when it arrived and ordered another and then another. I picked up my drink and coaxed my inebriated legs to take me to a booth far in the corner to be alone. I nursed my drink and watched patrons enter the pub and order their drinks. Some took the time to greet me by name. I took note that the bartender loves to share private information and to be more guarded in the future.

It was past midnight and I called out for one last pint of Seven Swans Ale and asked one of the barmaids if they had a room. She held out her hand for payment and I dropped some coin to cover the night. She showed me to the back of the building and out the back door. Attached to the back wall was what may pass for a room. I asked what she knew of The Twelve Drummers. She said she heard a few stories but nothing else. I asked if they had been through here in the past few days and she said she had not heard from them in years. I was confused by her disclosure and thought I might be on the wrong trail or it was she who had too much to drink. She then asked if there was anything else I needed tonight as she playfully wrapped her hand around my waist. I quickly grabbed her wrist and explained that I wish to hold on to my coins tonight and to release my bag that was attached to my belt. She stormed away clearly upset that I was not more drunk and vulnerable to her advances. I locked my door and prayed for my wife. My heart cried out for her with utterances I could not speak but my spirit knew. My mind raced with thoughts of what could be happening to her and my anger smoldered, wishing to be fanned into a raging fire. I worked to keep it under control until I find them and then they will know the full force of my rage. But then something foreign to me spoke of forgiveness. I stamped that down immediately.

The next morning, I gathered my things and stepped outside. During the night someone marked my door with chalk the initials, C M B. I noticed other doors with the same chalked initials and deduced that it must be a part of the village’s festivities. The whole village was awake performing their morning chores and rituals. I was forced to take another path as eight maids crossed my way as they headed to their cows to be milked. I was unfamiliar with the side street that suddenly became narrow and dim. The high walls of the buildings prevented the sunrise from reaching this man-made valley. I wished I were more patient and had waited for the maids to pass than to have taken this detour, when a shadowy man with a dagger approached me. With him was the barmaid from last night. I do believe they had come to collect my bag of coins. I tried to warn him that I was on a mission of salvation but he would not hear of it. He then warned me to turn over my coins to save my life. I was hoping to save my fury for my true love’s captors but I could not allow this rogue to stop my progress. I quickly pulled out my club, swung in an upward arc from my side and smashed the man standing ahead of me under the chin. His teeth disintegrated in his mouth. The tip of his tongue fell to the soil as he fell back onto the ground. I followed the momentum of my club, circled around and then dropped it down onto his chest. He let out a sickening groan as the air from his lungs rushed out. The maid looked at her partner and then made a hasty retreat. Even if it was self-defense, I wished not to explain myself to the lords of this village and I quickly left.

My inner compass pushed me to follow the path set before me to my enemy’s lair. I ran all day from the village. It was late in the night when I happened upon a roadhouse. I walked in hoping to find food and drink and rest. What I found was a celebration of Tres Reyes. I was welcomed by a ring of nine ladies dancing in a circle. They were red faced and panting from their exertion. A fire was roaring in a pit at the center of the room. They had removed most of their clothing keeping only their privates covered. It was extremely warm and I did not blame them for their lack of modesty. One of them saw me enter and broke the ring and grabbed me to join in the dance. I was pulled to the center as the women danced around me and the minstrels played. The crowd began to add to the merriment by singing with the music. For a time, I forgot my mission and joined the festivities. We ate and we drank and danced until the sun came up. My new friends invited me to stay with them at their home and I took them up on their offer.

Before the sun broke, I was awoken by ten well-dressed and well-armed lords. I leaped for where my club should have been but one of them had it in his hands. Together they grabbed me and dragged me outside and threw me and my pack to the road. They kicked and punched me relentlessly. I did what I could to protect myself but there were too many to overcome their blows. When they were too tired to continue, they all stepped away and someone else approached me. I wiped the blood that covered my face to see who was standing above me. It was a man whose face was wrapped in gauze. His jaw was swollen and deformed. I knew what this was all about. He reached down and felt my waist for my bag of coins. He gave it a tug and it came loose. With my money in his hand, he tried to spit on me but his injuries prevented him from doing so and a large drop of spit hung from his bottom lip. Beaten and broken, I still found this funny and cracked a smile. He did not and wiped away his spittle and gave me a kick to the face. I laid there dying and prayed my true love would forgive me.

I failed her.

My breath became slow and labored and my eyes began to dim. I heard music, pipe music. My sight was suddenly brightened but all I saw was white and I heard the thunderous music approaching me. The music filled the air from all directions and gave me no hint where it was coming from. In all the white, it was movement in the distance that caught my attention. The spot became larger and larger. As the processional line of pipers approached me, they formed two lines before me to my left and right. Ten pipers played their death march as an eleventh piper walked toward me between the two lines. In the midst of their crescendo the eleventh piper stopped, reached down and took my hand and removed one ring. The ring scraped away my flesh to the bone as the piper pulled it from my bloodied finger. The piper had full control over me. In the shape I was in, I could not offer any resistance even if I wanted to. The piper released my hand. I cradled my stripped bare finger and wept from the pain. I wept for my failure and my own death as the eleven pipers left just as they came. As the pipers left me, my eyes were overcome by blackness and then in a flash all I saw was white again. Through the white, my eyes adjusted and I was lying on my back. I felt renewed and refreshed. I checked my hand and the flesh had returned to my finger but below the flesh I was missing a ring. The contents of my pack were tossed all around me. I gathered my things into my pack and located my club but my coins were gone. I was too elated to care where my money might be. My surroundings were not familiar to me but I suppressed my curiosity. I had to save my one true love. I had no time to waste. I prayed I was not too late to save her. I felt reborn and refreshed and began my mission to The Twelve Drummers’ lair that lay up in the mountains before me.

Instinctively, I made my way up through the pathways. With every step, my memory of this place became less and less cloudy and more and more clear. I definitely have been here before and the realization of this fact was challenging my nerve to move onward along this path up to the lair of The Twelve Drummers. I moved silently in order to not make the guards aware of my movement. But I saw no one. They must be expecting me and are luring me into a trap. No matter, it will save me time to not have to hunt every last one of them. Facing the monstrous wooden double doors of the fortress built into the mountain, I took a check of my nerves and decided no matter what witchcraft was attacking my courage, I was going through those doors. No man or sorcery will stop me from being with my one true love. I pushed the door open and entered. No guards outside and none in the hall either. I watched my every step so that I didn’t draw any attention. I have missed her every day and I’ve prayed for her every night. I’ve been thinking of the day she was taken. The lives I will take for the bond they did break. But there was no one here to feel the weight of my ire.

I searched the fortress from top to bottom and no one was here. They were all gone. I rushed to the garden to the side of the fortress and it too was empty except for thirteen graves. The thirteenth had the name of my one true love, Partridge. I inspected the grave and it was not fresh. Grass was full and thick over the graves. I was startled with the sound of flapping above me. Four extremely large colly birds circling above me and they came down to rest on the grave of my true love. I attempted to shoo them away with my club but in an instant the birds came together as one, like in my vision, and grabbed hold my club and took it away from me. I fell back in amazement. It was one thing to see this in a dream but very different to see it in the real world. I did not know what to make of this. Like in my vision, the shape-shifting creature spoke to me but not in a dream language but the language of my people.

It said, “Soon, you will be mine.”

I was confused and it explained further. The creature told me it had witnessed my true love being violated by The Twelve Drummers. It had also witnessed my attempt to save her. When I was about to die from my failed attempt to save Partridge, it granted me ten rings of life to use against the Drummers in exchange to watch me and feel what I felt. A sadistic voyeur. The rings would restore my body but rob me of my memories. Every time I was restored, my memory returned to the moment I first set out to rescue Partridge. I looked at my hand and counted the number of times I had been here before. The creature restored my memories of all the times I’ve fought my way to The Twelve Drummers’ lair. I remembered the first time I came here only to find my one true love brutalized by the gang members to the point I could not recognize her as human. She was more blood and broken flesh than the beautiful woman I loved and married. I remembered hearing an audible pop, and then my mind broke. I recalled being slain and they celebrated over my dead body only to be restored as the gift of the rings promised. I recall the surprised look on their faces as I slaughtered each and every one of The Twelve Drummers. I remember it was me who buried the remaining pieces of my one true love and I let the dead drummers rot where they fell. I then recall how I went on with life. I fell in love and I married again. We have a daughter. A daughter I did not recognize before. That little girl who spoke to me when I first set out. I remembered the times before when I died and awoke to my heart filled with the hunger for blood and rage, only to return to this fortress again and again seeking vengeance that cannot be satisfied. I remember my regret for accepting those rings from that creature and allowing me to fulfill my desire to destroy my enemies so brutally. I remember returning to bury the twelve properly. It was my attempt to silence the echoing screams of mercy in my head. I prayed that they forgave me as I had forgiven them. I remembered everything. I remember how I lost the missing rings from my hand and how many more rings are painfully buried beneath the flesh of my fingers. I remembered what I learned from my new wife and the lessons she taught me. I realized the reason why prayer came to me so naturally was because of her.

The creature was pleased to witness my shame and regret and then it broke apart and it flew away.

I remember how I loved my Partridge.

I will also love my wife and daughter for as long as I can remember and for as long as I live, again.