Heart of the Resonant- the Soldier's Tale

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Heart of the Resonant- the Soldier's Tale Page 19

by B. C. Handler


  With a bowl in her hand and the other holding my head up, she told me, “Drink this. It’ll help with the fatigue.”

  A little dazed, I barely registered her words until I was already drinking in the berry-sweet brew. It had a bit of a bitter twang on the tongue, but it was refreshing. The drink had the same effect as a shot of espresso, making me more cognizant. With my vision clear, I took in Wren’s face, which had dragged even further since arriving.

  She sagged down and tilted her head to the ceiling, uttering a great groan. “That’ll keep you from bleeding to death. Mind your arm and leg for now.” Wren shifted her head forward and gave Nuna a narrowed stare. “And you. Don’t think I didn't notice the cut on your scales.” Nuna opened her mouth to argue, but Wren beat her to it. “I won’t use my magic, but you will let me treat you. Bad enough I have one stubborn patient.” She turned her eyes on me with that last part.

  “Okay, I shall,” Nuna relented.

  “Good. Take him to the pool to wash off the blood.” She narrowed her tired, pink eyes again. “And you will bathe. Not only do you reek, but the blood could cause a rash, which will lead to an infection. I’ll see about getting your clothes cleaned while I prepare medicine for Nuna.”

  “Whatever.” I swung my legs over the slab and suppressed a groan when I put weight on my leg. The scab leftover from the healing revealed a haggard L-shaped scar on my shin. It didn’t make a lick of sense, and I’ve given up on trying to make heads or tails of magic. Looking to Nuna, I said, “Lead the way.”

  We left Wren’s medical room and went deeper into the hall. Before we even got to the end, I could already hear water running. The hall opened into a softly lit cavernous space that had what Wren mentioned: a pool.

  Water poured in from a small hole in the wall, filling the roughly circular twenty-five-foot patch of eroded stone. The excess water spilled over a partially blocked off hole in the far side to keep from overfilling. Steam filled the space as the cool air condescended and rose over the warmer water.

  “Heated water deep in a mountain?” I observed skeptically.

  Nuna leaned toward the pool and ran her hand through the water. “Crystals imbued with the element of fire were placed in the channel that allows the water to flow in from the runoff pool where we gather our drinking water and the odd fish that wanders in. Would you like—”

  “No,” I interrupted.

  Instead of getting a rise out of her, Nuna just rose and began to slither back to entrance. She stopped when she was at my side, however.

  “I truly think you’re an ungrateful ass, Oliver,” she said without hesitation. “But I can see that deep, deep down, you’re a warrior at heart. A charming characteristic we lamia value. Unfortunate that your reckless hatred shadows the charm.

  “Hearing the resolve in your voice over the Marker filled me with admiration. And I say this because I admire you. Haya was a warrior like you, strong and steadfast. That didn’t make her any less mortal. Remember that you’re mortal like her when you think about destroying the Marker.

  “Someone will come with your fresh clothes later.”

  Nuna left me alone once she said what she wanted. For a long while, I just stood there, replaying her words in my head a few times. The cool air of the mountain hit me harder when I was just in my skivvies, so I stripped the rest of the way and lowered myself into the pool. The hot water caused me to wince when my leg went, but it passed once fully submerged, the water surprisingly deep and going to my neck. Once everything settled, I waded further into the below before dunking my head into the water to scream. Everything I've buried coming out as an unbridled roar that was nothing more than a muffled burble.

  Before drowning, I came back up, gasping. Cradling my face in my hands, I tried to think. Just like before, I ran a mental marathon in circles, only producing more problems and questions than answers. All the mental turmoil came to one end: there was nothing I could do. Why did it take me so long to come to that end? I barely held my own against just two of those things; the fucking tumble would’ve been fatal if not for my helmet. What the hell am I going to do against a monolithic structure like that?

  Frustration and anger built inside of me until it felt like something within was going to rupture. When utter futility settled within my mind, I went slack and felt a chilling emptiness settle. Indecision and ambiguity clouded the road ahead to the point that I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing now, let alone what’s to come tomorrow, or even in a week.

  I’m going to destroy it? Why say something so childish and idiotic? Too big for my own damn boots.

  The moment of brooding was interrupted when I heard water stirring from behind. Spinning in place, I looked across the empty room and didn’t see anything aside from something folded sitting near the edge of the pool. Squinting in the low light, I saw the unmistaken colors of my pants and shirt next to another pile of clothes.

  Something wrapped around my arms and legs, binding me in place before I even had a chance to panic. Just as I was about to utter a cry, a hand reached out of the water and clamped my mouth shut. Like an alligator rising out of a swamp, Sanvi’s head slowly surfaced. Her short, raven hair plastered to her dark skin, and the low light and contrast of her skin practically made her lilac eyes glow. Water dripped from her chin and streamed along her massive, perky mounds as she stared at me, her face blank and speculative.

  I tried to struggle, but her tail gave me a tight squeeze, the powerful muscles under her smooth scales, telling me there was no escape.

  Sanvi breathed silently through her nose, then gave a lopsided smile.

  “No running away or averting this time, Oliver,” she said in a silken whisper. “You know, some people of our world consider the Isusi savages for adhering to our old ways. And, in some ways, they are correct. While we accept certain luxuries, tools, or amenities, we adhere to our tough and violent ways in the forest because that has been our way for thousands of years. Nature is one of the mightiest forces one can encounter. Persevering through nature’s tests is what hardened our people and given certain lamia tribes, like the Isusi, their reputations. That doesn’t mean we’re cold-hearted and unempathetic; were that the case, we’d have died out long, long ago.

  “While the One may repudiate our beliefs, it doesn’t make Yetzirah any less real or her lessons any less endearing. In fact, the One may even confirm her presence. She and the One may be the same, or maybe the One brought forth enlightenment to that special Schlangüster; all that matters is the value in her knowledge.”

  Sanvi lifted her hand from my mouth, realization that I stopped struggling. She cupped either side of my head and pressed her forehead to mine.

  “Compassion and unity is what drives life, Oliver,” she said as if she were trying to channel those very words into my brain. “When we were given the light, we were also given the duty of protecting it and each other. The light flickers in all of us. That is what separates us from monsters—from the Null.” She pulled away with a downturned expression, pearls forming in the corners of her eyes. “And I’m sorry for your world. It hurts knowing we can’t save every soul. Nothing I can say or do will ever make up for your loss, but I want you to know that we’re here for you.” Her tail uncoiled and released me, then she swooped in and wrapped me up in her arms. “Don’t let your hate convince you you’re alone. Fighting alone is terrifying, and I don't want you to be suffering anymore.”

  Taking in a shuddering breath, wrapped my arms around Sanvi’s strong back and buried my face in her chest, trying to keep from crumbling.

  “I understand, Sanvi,” I said shakily. My throat and hold around her grew tighter. “But I just hate it. So fucking unfair.”

  “I know,” she cooed softly.

  Sanvi and I stayed entangled in that embrace for several minutes while I rode out this sudden wave. After taking a few deep breaths to get back under control, I pulled away.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “A little, yeah,�
�� I admitted.

  Sanvi cocked her at that. Pursing her lips in thought for a moment, she smiled. Leaning in, Sanvi planted a firm kiss on my lips. She pulled back only a few millimeters to exhale a hot breath on my lips before going back in, pressing her breasts against my chest and working her tongue in my mouth. The sudden kiss caught me off guard that I honestly didn't know how to take it. Before any coherent thought solidified, and before I got too excited, Sanvi ripped herself away.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “It was only meant to be a light one and… Well, it’s been a very long time since a man has been around here.”

  Blinking, I cleared my throat, still trying to make sense of what just happened. “We’re good. That was… nice of you.”

  She reached over the hold my cheek, giving another warm smile. “We all take care of each other here.” She hovered her mouth near my ear. “And we can comfort each other more if you’d like.”

  Not waiting for a response, Sanvi started pulling herself out of the water, giving me another full view of her broad chest, muscular abs, and her very human vagina. I looked away as she climbed out.

  That answers that mystery…

  As Sanvi worked out the excess water from her hair, I drank in the sight of her. With her back turned, I admired the beautiful contours of her developed back, her narrow waist, and her body widened near her hips before shifting to the luminous, pitch-black scales of her snake half. She had such a charming, mysterious air, mostly due in part from her sepia skin tone and the long appendage trailing from her like a shadow. Despite the unusual absence of legs, I’m not too averse to the idea of receiving more comfort from her.

  “I’m not the only one who cares,” Sanvi added, looking over her muscular shoulder. She reached into the pile next to my clothes and pulled up a blanket to dry herself. “You still owe a talk to two certain women. By the way, when they pestered me for details about you, Meriel was an utter mess.” She flashed one last smile before leaving.

  Thinking back to when I was carried in, there was nothing but horror written across the girls' faces. They were just concerned for my well-being, and all I showed was utter contempt for them. The anger was there when looking back at the moment, but there were other emotions mixed in that I don’t know what to think of.

  I sucked in a deep breath and dunked my head under the water. With the world put on mute, I thought about Meriel and Fell.

  What do they matter?

  Chapter 14

  After soaking in the pool for a while, I got out and dried myself with the blanket Sanvi left. The blanket wasn’t very good for drying off, but hard to complain after getting a hot bath in over a week.

  My mind was elsewhere while changing. Like the Marker— and everything, really— time with the girls played before my mind. Flashes of all the fear, anger, and frustration were renewed, as well as Judge’s death. The immediate feeling was a muddled mystery. Disbelief? Anger? Sorrow? Reflecting on everything was weird, like it happened a lifetime ago.

  Mostly dried and covered, I made my way back to the cell I called a room. The bath was rejuvenating in several ways, though it made my lethargy even worse. The scrape in the caves left me feeling wired and jittery. After Wren healed me, it felt as though I'd done a rigorous session of PT after not sleeping for a day. Odd, considering she fixed all the gashes. Then again, I knew absolutely nothing about magic healing.

  I crossed into the common room, and more than a few heads swiveled towards me. The air was still heavy from Haya’s death, yet they still bid me smiles. Not sure what else to do, I gave a respectful nod, then quietly walked toward the entryway that led to my room.

  My rifle, sidearm, and knife were waiting on the bed for me. Even from the doorway, I could see my rifle took one hell of pounding during that tumble down the cave. Contact with the rocks left a lot of scratches and gouges in the metal, but aside from a sizeable dent in the magazine, everything still looked mechanically solid. The same applied to my Beretta; both needed serious TLC. Miraculously, my knife looked pristine; no black blood or dirt. Looked like it had been sharpened, too.

  Makes sense they wouldn’t screw around too much after seeing what a gun could do. Amazing none of them shot themselves.

  I got my feet off the chilled stone floor and sat on the thin mattress. The bed was as wide as a twin, but it certainly wasn’t long enough to hold a whole lamia; perhaps only the human bit needed padding.

  While rubbing my chin as my mind wandered, I was reminded of the shave that was desperately needed, along with the stone fastened around my neck. Just to be safe, I checked the knot to ensure it was still tight. Had I lost it in the cave, Nuna or Sanvi wouldn’t have been able to disclose their thoughts. And I wouldn’t be able to have Fell’s talk.

  They weren’t in the common area. Remembering the crushed look on Meriel’s face when I glared, maybe they thought that a talk wouldn’t change anything. Maybe it could.

  I exhaled forcefully and rubbed my stiff neck while thinking about the next action. Talking to them seemed like the most obvious course of action, but how to go about that? Tackling something like this was foreign; I don’t know where to start.

  My guns needed cleaning. Better to do that before anything else. Working on something always helped clear my head. Once there’s one less thing to worry about, I’ll try to figure the other thing.

  Going over to my rucksack, I started digging for my cleaning kit but stopped once Judge’s Bible bumped into my hand. Aside from his tags hanging around my neck, this was all that was left of him.

  Religion was never something I got too into mainly because Dad wasn’t religious. The closest he ever got was when he would yell “Hell,” along with a curse after breaking a wrench or accidentally hurting himself. The closest we ever got to talking about theology was when I asked about Mom as a kid. I wasn’t sad, and what we were doing didn’t exactly stir memories of sorrow or longing, just curiosity. We were hiking, and he was bitching about how the runoff from a nearby factory was killing all the trees. They were so malnourished and rotted that Dad could knock down trees with a light shove. He said the forest would be gone forever once the trees were dead. In the graceful bluntness only a stupid kid could manage, I asked, “Like Mom?”

  He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to stare at me, making a look that looked so weird on his bearded-face: indecision.

  For someone as smart and productive as my Dad, that face really stood out. We walked on for some time as he thought, and after a while, he just said that she was just somewhere else. He reasoned that everything in nature changed from one form to another, but people were different because they had a soul—that thing keeping the lights on, as he said. After that, companionable silence settled. Dad usually did most of the talking, mention this or that, trying to teach me something, but it was just silence and my own thoughts for the rest of that hike.

  Years passed, and I would keep that little nugget of insight in mind whenever things like God or religion came up. Everyone has their beliefs, and that was fine. The extent of mine is “you go somewhere else when you die,” and that was it. Where? No clue; never got that far.

  Some unusual compulsion made me flip to a random page, and I read back the first thing my eyes fell on.

  I Peter 3:10 For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile.

  I read the verse over a few times, then shut the book before letting out a single, small chuckle. “Really pushing it, buddy,” I murmured to myself.

  I stared down at the book for a moment before looking blankly ahead. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder, and there they were. Fell and Meriel stood just outside the room, the fox-woman watching with a reserved face, Meriel with her gaze down and to the side.

  Setting the Bible on the ground, I turned around to face them, unsure of what came next.

  Fell saved the trouble.

  “May we come in?” her quiet, melodic voice asked.

>   Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I clenched my fists on my lap and then nodded. They shuffled forward slowly like children about to be scolded, then demurely sat on their knees, letting a silence so dense that could be heard was the ringing from my still damaged eardrums.

  With so much stirring within, I didn't know what to think, feel, or do. Fell made the first awkward move.

  “I was… scared,” she whispered. The fox-woman blinked a few times to keep her eyes from tearing over before fixing me with a steady gaze. “When dropped into Elesrora, I was so confused and scared. The pain in my chest was so great that I couldn’t scream, let alone breathe. Worst of all, I saw Meriel watching me with absolute horror. Fear like no other plagued me at that moment because the world grew darker and darker, death imminent. But I wasn’t scared of dying.” She took in a shuddering breath as her eyes spilled over. The elf reached over and took her hand, holding it tightly. “I was terrified of leaving my precious Meriel alone. Everything shrank away until she was the center of my world, then it went black.”

  She sniffled and gave a radiant, teary smile.

  “And the world came rushing back with you over me. Your deep, earthy-brown eyes burning with absolute focus as my agony died away and life returned. Feeling Meriel embrace me, knowing that you kept me with her, I…” Her mouth worked silently for the words, but she fumbled with them.

  Growing silent, her tall ears drooped, and her tail curled closer to her body.

  “You’ve lost so much and given so much to us,” Fell said once her voice returned. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. If you wish never to hear my voice again, it shall be. Before I make that swear, I want to say one thing: Thank you, Oliver. With every fiber of my being, thank you. The apology could be said a million times, and it would never be enough. Alas, thank you.”

 

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