by Viviene Noel
‘She will pass out before she talks any more if we don’t put food in her belly.’ She picked at her nails and smiled at him. ‘Be careful, brother, living in the wild is truly starting to erode your manners.’
He rolled his eyes in answer.
‘Why are you being so defensive?’
‘And why are you so protective?’ He stopped the brushing, gave Farak a carrot and let him stride off.
‘I told you. I feel...drawn. Don’t give me those eyes, I cannot explain it. And it’s getting stronger, I think.’
Fàaran stilled, then frowned as he angled his head. He walked to the rabbits, small enough they would be ready soon.
Following him, she added. ‘I don’t recall you acting this way when a certain other person landed bloodied on our doorstep.’
It was a cheap shot, but it was true. They had been in hiding for only a few short months when the woman had collapsed, bloodied beyond recognition, in their field. She had borne weapons from the wrong nation, with eyes the colour of doom, yet he had healed her regardless, and more.
Emmerentia had not questioned her twin then.
Fàaran levelled her stare. ‘Don’t even stir in that direction.’
But she saw the twinge in his eyes at the mention. ‘Then don’t be an ass.’
B
Mahena stared at the pot, at the steam coming out of it; the rich smell enveloped itself around her like a soft, comforting blanket.
‘Alright,’ she murmured, ‘the worst that can happen is them throwing you out on the streets.’ She looked out of the door, then to the window. ‘Or the wild.’
Mahena placed a steady hand to her heart. Why was it so damn calm? She was clearly not in her world anymore.
It bellowed in her guts.
‘Shut up,’ she snapped.
And quickly retracted her words, pleading that it did not leave her alone in the unknown. She shook her head, pushing the thought to a corner of her mind for her to deal with later.
Mahena rolled her neck and swept the space with a studying glance. A rudimentary kitchen, with a fireplace and a hook above it where the pot hung. Above it, a few utensils. Next to it was a stone working place. The big window brought the light in the room, which would otherwise have been very dark. And then the large wooden dining table she sat at, with four chairs around it. Why four, if there were only two?
Her curiosity urged her to get up and explore the house before they came back. Mahena reined the longing in. She really, really did not feel like pissing them off straight away.
Mahena hoped Emmerentia would let her read the books displayed in her room or give her a history lesson.
The amnesia card, she decided, was her best bet at this stage.
‘I think I can hear your stomach grumbling from out here!’ Emmerentia claimed as she walked back inside, two grilled pieces of meat in her hand, her brother in tow.
The bland look with underlying annoyance he shot her made her stomach clench. Anger or shame, she couldn’t tell. But then she looked at Emmerentia’s smile, at the light steam coming out of the pot. Mahena inhaled deeply, and the smell of that food wiped the thought clear.
Emmerentia carried the conversation whilst Mahena unsuccessfully attempted not to shove the stew down her throat like an uneducated savage, which she failed at miserably. The twin laughed at the visible display of hunger. Her brother just shrugged and obnoxiously ignored her.
Mahena now sat with her legs crossed underneath the table, staring at a yellowish liquid and she really didn’t know what to do about it. She sucked in a breath, then grabbed the glass. Swirling it gently, the young woman brought it to her nose. ‘At least, it doesn’t stink.’
Emmerentia jerked her chin toward the cup. ‘Bottoms up.’
Mahena made a face, pinched her nose, and downed the drink. She braced for an awful taste, but it was only earthy and herbaceous, with a powerful lingering aftertaste of sage. She shifted on her feet, fidgety as her blood warmed.
The little voice hissed. Hard.
Mahena rubbed her temple, forcing her head to remain upright. Then her hands twitched, and her eyes rolled over.
Emmerentia’s voice echoed in the room, ‘Where are you from?’
It was a simple question, clear, to the point. Nothing invasive. Nothing out of place.
A memory of a green land and a field of lily-of-the-valley flashed before her eyes. Mahena blinked it away. ‘Sar’gona.’ The word tumbled out of her mouth.
‘That’s one of the bridge towns of Elgona.’ Fàaran’s voice resonated somewhere around her. Elgona. It was one of the kingdoms on the map. One that had been scribbled out. ‘I didn’t know they were still standing.’
Mahena remained still, unfazed. Although her entire being was screaming.
Emmerentia pressed, ‘How did you end up here?’
The question felt distant, removed, as though she was paddling through mud. ‘I don’t know.’ It wasn’t a lie.
‘Who are you?’
‘Mahena.’ That felt like a disguise, yet she had no control over the responses.
‘Do you wish us harm?’ Fàaran spewed.
There was a push inside her head, as though a buried part was debating the answer.
‘No,’ she whispered.
There was silence for a moment, sufficiently long for her sight to come back. Fàaran was leaning against the wall, his arms-crossed over his broad chest, his brows furrowed. His eyes, on the other hand, were more concerned than hateful. Emmerentia stood up, her lips pursed. She cocked her head to the side as she met Mahena’s confused stare, the way an animal would when seizing its prey.
But then the twin hinted at a smile, and motioned her to the bathing room.
6
Fàaran narrowed his eyes at his sister as she closed the door to the corridor behind her.
‘She’s in a bath,’ Emmerentia confirmed. ‘I think she needs it, the poor thing.’
‘Are you so bored to now require a pet human for your distraction?’
Emmerentia glared at him. ‘Don’t call her that.’
He tapped his fingers on the table, his brow arching at the snap. ‘I am waiting.’
His sister rolled her eyes, then hopped on the table instead of pulling a chair. ‘If you laugh, I gut you,’ she said, pointing her pocket knife at him. She sighed heavily, a characteristic gesture when she wanted to downplay an emotion. ‘I feel pulled to her, like a tug pushing me toward helping her.’
Fàaran cocked his head to the side. A vision of fiery hair flashed before his eyes. He drowned it immediately. He knew that pull too well. But…no, it couldn’t be the same. ‘And you want to keep her here, under the circumstances?’
Emmerentia shrugged her shoulders. ‘We need help on the farm, you can’t deny it.’ She must have lost her gods-damned wits. ‘And the serum told us enough.’
‘You barely asked any questions.’
‘I asked the necessary ones. And I trust my guts.’
Fàaran shook his head at his twin. ‘Those guts of yours, they have a tendency to put us in…uncomfortable situations.’
Emmerentia had a frustrating tendency to believe they did her right every time. He caught a flash of guilt bolt through her eyes. She masked it quickly.
He clarified, ‘The serum isn’t reliable.’
Emmerentia angled her head. ‘Yes it is. Again, the ingredients, not magic.’
She would not let it go, and maybe he shouldn’t push her to. ‘Talk to me about that pull.’
‘What about it?’
‘What do you feel?’
His sister, his twin, laughed indignantly. ‘Why are you digging? You know how I feel,’ she tapped her head, ‘in there, so why do I need to voice it?’
Fàaran gritted his teeth. Exasperating. Infuriating. How had he even managed not
to throttle her before now? He didn’t know. He could feel the importance of it through their twin bond, that chord they never explained, that none could ever explain. But discerning the veracity of that importance, that was another play they could not perform through mind only. ‘I can’t tell if it is worth the risk, or if you simply want a break in the routine so badly.’
‘Well,’ she made a dramatic gesture, ‘I am bored. And your brooding doesn’t help with it.’
He punched his sister in the shoulder. ‘Piss off.’
‘You can do better than that, brother.’ She hopped off the table. ‘I have used the serum in the past, and it hasn’t failed me. Let me verify this feeling. If she gives you, gives us, a reason to doubt her, I’ll send her off myself.’
Fàaran watched Emmerentia disappear outside. He toyed with the glass of water in front of him, swirling it as he leaned back in the chair. The chances that both of them would find the link so early in their lives were slim, if not improbable. He had tried to get inside his sister’s head for clarification, but it was either too murky or too weak still. But however reluctant he felt towards the stranger, he could not deny his twin the chance to figure it out. Even if she would never believe, never accept, such a truth.
The older twin closed his eyes, drowning his own need in the pit where he’d locked it all these past months. He would stand watch, as he always had.
B
Mahena scrubbed at her oily, dirty hair with the soap Emmerentia had provided her with as she sat in the bathtub, the warm water caressing her skin a blessing.
Emmerentia seemed nice and welcoming. Fàaran was unorthodoxly defensive—which had her uncharacteristically raising her eyebrow. They must have been around her age, a very few years older maybe. The gleam of youth still shone bright, yet they both made her feel so much younger in a way she couldn’t explain. From what she could tell, they lived alone. There had been two doors on her way to the dining room; one closed, the other slightly opened to reveal the bathroom she was in now. The former, she imagined, would be Fàaran’s bedroom. Seeing the cottage they lived in, this was either a backwater village or she had landed back in the middle ages. And let’s be realistic, she had no damn idea how to even light a fire.
If this insanity was indeed reality, well, maybe wishes were not mere myths after all. The female twin’s attitude was an act, at least partially; her friendliness felt overdone. It might be to get her to relax, to lower the level of fear one should be experiencing in her situation, or to balance out her brother’s broodiness. He had at least loosened up a little after the questioning.
Laying her head against the edge of the tub, Mahena let herself sink down in the water with a long, long sigh. She toyed with the necklace around her neck, happier than she’d ever thought she could be about a piece of jewellery when she’d awoken with the pendant still hanging between her breasts. She’d never taken it off since the day she’d bought it, and somehow it grounded her. She poked the tip of her fingers with the small spikes of the star-shaped trinket. What the hell was she going to do now?
They had asked her where she came from, and the answer that escaped her lips had not been Earth. Mahena ducked her head under the water several times, getting rid of the dirt the soap had loosened. Elgona. It had made her blood bristle the first time she saw it on the map. The second time, it had echoed deeper than she ever imagined anything could. She couldn’t ask questions, could she? It hadn’t been a lie. She was looking to feed them with the name of one of the cities she’d seen on the map, not wanting to be totally honest before being sure she could trust them. Her lips had simply...formed the word aloud.
Home, home, home. The little voice kept murmuring.
Hopefully, they would let her sleep here for the night and send her off in the morning, preferably with a very sharp knife and a map and then whatever force had spirited her here would save her from certain death. Or she would simply wake up, in her own bed, in her mother’s house, and this would be just one more dream to add to her journal of crazy.
‘Bat-shit crazy indeed,’ she murmured on the water’s surface, creating a slow ripple.
Mahena waited until the water turned cold to leave its comfort. She wrapped herself in the towel Emmerentia had left on the side of the tub and rubbed her body dry. There was a pack of clothes on the side of a washbasin, a thick pair of leggings and a cotton shirt. She dressed, then towel-dried her hair as best as possible and brushed it to one side. She paused in front of the mirror laid against the wall and tore her eyes from it before she took a look at her appearance. For some reason beyond herself, she simply couldn’t.
After another long sigh, after her shoulders dropped, she grabbed her courage and left the room.
As Mahena closed the door behind her, Emmerentia’s head popped into the hallway.
‘Feeling better?’ she asked as she motioned Mahena forward with her hand.
‘Only fools do not value a warm bath and clean hair,’ Mahena answered with an uncomfortable smile. She held up her dirty nightgown in one hand. ‘Where could I wash this? And thank you for the clothes.’
‘In the river, behind the house. I can show you.’
They walked out and around the house, Mahena trying to keep her eyes from wandering in case it would raise suspicion.
Nature hit her in the face—a swift, crisp wind and all the noises that accompanied it. The songs of different birds pierced through the cluster of trees on each side of the house and in the distance; the buzzing of insects tangled in the songs; and...horses neighed. ‘You have horses?’ Mahena beamed, her head turning in all directions as the sound repeated.
Emmerentia chuckled. ‘You like them I suppose?’
‘I love them, you mean,’ she answered ecstatically. And she truly did. She had loved riding when she was a child and missed it dearly.
The stream greeted them as they rounded the cottage, running slowly and lightly about twenty metres to the back, and bordered by multiple bushes of varying heights.
‘We have three of them. Do you remember how to ride?’
‘Hopefully muscle memory will kick in.’
Emmerentia pointed to a pierced bucket on the streambank. ‘Put the dress in the bucket, and then stick it in the water, inside the small stone dam over there.’
Mahena did as directed. ‘Leave it there for now?’
Emmerentia nodded. ‘Let the water run through it for a while.’
As she stood up and turned towards the twin, she caught her studying gaze. ‘Do I have something on my face?’
‘Despite what the majority of people who know me think, I do have a heart. What are you going to do?’
Lie. Stay. It was harsh yet filled her with confidence.
Mahena shrugged, willing a grin to her mouth. ‘If you’re kind enough to pack me a satchel with a knife and a map, I might make it somewhere.’ Hopefully not my grave, was what she didn’t add.
‘Is sarcasm your best defence?’
‘It’s comforting. My options are mockery or panic. Neither will keep me alive, but at least one of them will prevent me from curling into a ball.’
Emmerentia laughed. ‘I meant what I said earlier, about you staying with us.’
Mahena felt her heart light up.
The twin paused for a moment as though she were considering her next words, then continued, ‘Would you want to?’
Her mind spun for a second at the potential offer. Emmerentia could get her brother to agree, as reluctant as he would be.
The question was, why?
B
Emmerentia closed her eyes for a minute, savouring the momentary quiet. The girl had been with them for two weeks now and honestly, she didn’t know what to think of it. She’d found herself dropping her guard often, found herself jumping out of bed when she awoke screaming—nightmares, she claimed—found herself wanting to help her to the point th
at—
‘Stop fidgeting,’ Mahena’s hand shot to her knee, halting the trembling of her leg she hadn’t noticed. ‘What is it about these woods that always has you itching?’ The girl scratched her forehead. ‘The passage between the oaks until the first apple tree gives me the creeps, but beyond that.’
Emmerentia lifted a brow, turning slightly, then grumbled, ‘It’s just an idiotic legend.’
‘Shouldn’t I know about it?’
‘Are you suddenly getting so confident as to wander around on your own?’
Mahena stuck out her tongue.
‘Very graceful.’
‘As always.’ Mahena jabbed her in the ribs.
Emmerentia jerked to the side and punched Mahena in the shoulder.
Mahena made a face as she rubbed it. ‘But honestly, tell me. It’ll make me even less inclined to leave.’
Emmerentia clicked the leads, the horse neighed and accelerated in response. The road was empty today, except for the occasional scurrying animal in the brush. ‘If you must know. A long time ago, a little girl lost her way back to her village—’
‘That’s already a bad start.’
Emmerentia gave Mahena a knowing glance. ‘Yes. She was left for dead. The forest refused to let the child die and saved her. But she’d been damaged beyond repair. The story claims she attacks at nightfall and feeds off magical energy.’ The last words sent a shiver down her spine she carefully hid.
Mahena’s nostrils pulled back in horror. The answering voice was a low, suffering induced whisper, ‘I would slowly shred to pieces anyone capable of such atrocity.’
Emmerentia cocked her head at the tone. Mahena shook her head—as though to wipe a strange illusion—blinked and rolled her eyes, then added, ‘On a less haunting thought, jog my memory. What is the place you’d really want to go to?’
She forced herself to ignore the momentary lapse and folded it in a corner of her mind. ‘That I’d like to culturally explore?’
Mahena nodded.
Emmerentia gave a soft snap of the leads, pushing the horses faster. She smiled to herself, recounting the numerous places she swore she would visit before death claimed her. ‘There is a jungle called Shabari, in the western parts of the southern continent. The women there…they are the most sought out warriors in the land, trained ruthlessly from birth. They have a breed of giant lizards,’ she pointed to the horses, ‘shorter and stockier, but incredibly fast, that they train with almost from birth. I’d want to see that, to train with them.’