Scorched

by Jendela Tryst

  “Mistress, I understand you wish to go on a hunting expedition. I am Bruno, and will be your guide.”

  “Thank you. I could use some assistance in the woods.”

  It was the truth. As confident and steadfast as she seemed, Psyche trembled at the idea of encountering another satyr or even worse. She was more comfortable armed, however, and she had made some practice shots in the courtyard earlier. The bow seemed to have been made for her. The weight was light but perfectly balanced. The string was taut but bendable. And when she released an arrow, it flew from her hands to a distance she could not believe possible. She was a little right of her target, which had been the center of a tree knob, but when she pulled the arrow off and inspected the tip, she was impressed by how sharp it still was. She couldn’t imagine what material her new weapons were made out of, but it made her feel more secure in herself when she crossed the gardens and entered the Enchanted Forest.

  Although Psyche could not see the servant who was treading behind her, she could hear him crunching on the trail, and she saw that he left deep, heavy tracks, suggesting he was a very heavy companion. Psyche knew the whole palace was in an uproar at her leaving, but she would not be dissuaded.

  Psyche breathed in the crisp afternoon air and marveled at the perfect day. It was neither too hot nor too cold, and only a gentle breeze blew from the West, cooling the perspiration that beaded on her forehead. The exercise was invigorating, and Psyche felt as if she was back in her element. Although the plant life and vegetation was different, with colors that dazzled the eyes, the activity was familiar and she felt at home again. The flowers that grew between fallen logs were bright and flamboyant. The leaves seemed to have an unearthly sheen on them, as if damp from a recent rain. Best of all was how every twist and turn seemed to reveal another breathtaking scene.

  Psyche chose to head in a different direction than before, not wanting to meet the river nymphs or the satyr again. It wasn’t long before she arrived at an endless field where wild red poppies grew as far as she could see. Again, she found herself amazed by the beauty before her. Then she spied it, just up ahead, perhaps the length of a large amphitheater, a great white buck feasting on the red flowers. Psyche inhaled and instinctively lowered herself and slowly crept forward.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” the servant Bruno said.

  “I simply want to take a closer look,” Psyche murmured. “He is beautiful is he not?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “But what? A buck is still a buck, even in the Island of Amorus, no? Unless you think it might be the god Zeus himself, disguising himself to chase after another nymph.”

  Bruno gasped audibly. “How did you...?”

  “Oh don’t be silly. Those legends were all—”

  Just then, an arrow shot past her and narrowly missed the white stag. The stag protested angrily before running back into the forest. With a gasp, Psyche turned to see where the arrow had come from. The head that came poking out of the grass was as beautiful as it was empty, and Psyche greeted him with enraged eyes. “You could have killed us, firing your arrow so closely!”

  “Not at all,” Narcissus responded airily. “I have excellent aim. Had the wind not blown at the wrong moment, I could have gotten that stag.”

  Psyche waved her hand impatiently. “There was no wind. You are simply a poor shot.”

  Narcissus ignored her, and to her surprise, nodded to the invisible Bruno.

  “I see you have brought a friend with you.”

  “I think we had better be going, Mistress.” Psyche heard Bruno say.

  Psyche ignored him. “You can see Bruno?”

  “Why, of course I can. Who can miss that orangutan?”

  Psyche turned to look at the empty space. “What does he look like?”

  Narcissus paused for a moment, then looked from Bruno to Psyche, as if weighing something. Finally his expression changed and he smiled knowingly. “Oh, I see. You have partial blindness.”

  Psyche blinked. “I have no such thing!”

  “Oh, it is not your fault. Bruno is of a specie that can be invisible to humans.”

  “But aren’t you human?”

  “Me? A mere mortal? Do you think beauty such as mine would be gifted upon a mere youth?”

  “I’ve seen many a youth as handsome as you,” Psyche lied.

  “Impossible! Where was this? In your little Bromeia that you spoke of?”

  Psyche suddenly thought of Erik with his beautiful smile and deep, cerulean eyes and lifted her chin slightly. “In fact, yes.”

  Narcissus narrowed his own eyes and studied her up and down, like she were a milking cow for sale. “I suppose, if you came from such a village, it is possible that there might be others.”

  What could have been a compliment seemed like a reluctant factoid coming from Narcissus’s uninterested tone.

  Narcissus shook his head. “But we dally too long. Meanwhile our buck gets away. Come, your tracking skills can be of use to me.”

  Psyche stared at him incredulously. “Perhaps. But how are you of any use to us?”

  Bruno coughed and Narcissus glared at the empty space. “I am a wonderful shot and I know these woods like the back of hand.”

  Psyche had to admit that this would be useful, but she did not reply.

  “Let me lead,” Narcissus moved ahead of her. “This way you can admire my backside, which always seems to please the ladies.”

  Psyche gasped in offense. But Narcissus only laughed. “I only spoke aloud what you were thinking.”

  “Now I know you weren’t given the gift of mind-reading. Are all the people where you’re from as vain and empty-headed as you?”

  Although she distinctly heard Bruno cough again, Narcissus chose to ignore her and instead swaggered ahead. Sighing, she followed his well-shaped derriere to the other side of the clearing.

  As before, it didn’t take long for Psyche to tire of Narcissus. Midway up a sloping mountain, she pretended that she had lost the trail and insisted they return to the castle.

  Just then, a rock seemed to move above them. Psyche jumped. They were exposed and there would be no protection from a rock fall. She looked up to see more pebbles falling. Straining her eye, Psyche spied a rock that seemed to move upwards, instead of down. She caught her breath and quickly moved closer. The shadows were not playing tricks on her. The rock was slowly taking the form of a maiden. The crystal minerals became her hair and the shadowy dents, her eyes. The figure leaned forward and seemed to be looking at Narcissus. Psyche opened her mouth to warn him, but when Narcissus turned towards the top of the hill, the maiden quickly disappeared, blending once more into the rocky background.

  Psyche blinked in confusion.

  “It cannot have traveled too far,” Narcissus insisted, oblivious to the strange creature that had been just behind him.

  “Did you see that?” Psyche asked him.

  Narcissus looked more vacant than usual. “See what?”

  “The maiden. The maiden that was just here. She was following you.”

  Narcissus looked around. “I see no one.”

  “A nymph, I’m sure of it.” Psyche touched the rock that she knew the creature had been standing on. “It was right here. She was about to touch you. She was a mountain nymph. I’m sure of it. I have never seen one before!”

  “If you’ve never seen one, how do you know it was one?” Narcissus snapped. “The lights play such tricks on these mountains. And the altitude can get to you.” Despite his dismissive words, Narcissus’s eyes revealed true concern. “Let us get back down so you do not get ill.”

  Narcissus began climbing down. Psyche knew there was no way he could be concerned for her health. He seemed as much in a hurry to leave as ever.

  Just then, she saw a rock move again. It was a maiden, she was sure of it, and it was turning away

  “Wait!” Psyche cried out, racing towards it.

  Her echo resounded in the distance, “Wait!” The
strange being was slipping into a narrow gorge.

  “I only wish to talk!” Psyche tried again.

  “Talk!” her echo repeated.

  “Mistress,” it was Bruno behind her, breathing heavily, his voice thick with worry. “I think we had better leave. The sun is going down and I fear we might not make it back before dark.”

  “You saw her, didn’t you, Bruno?” Psyche stared into the darkness, straining her eyes for one more glimpse.

  “There are many mysterious creatures in these mountains,” Bruno responded vaguely.

  “She did not look harmful.” Psyche peered in the direction she had last seen her. There was something so sad about her stony eyes.

  “Please, Mistress. Let us go.”

  Eyeing the lowering sun, Psyche reluctantly began to move away from the rocky cliffs and head back in the direction of the palace. She knew that there was always tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  “I understand you went hunting with Narcissus this afternoon.”

  Psyche and her hidden creature companion were seated before the chess board again, but Psyche was clearly distracted from the game and didn’t even seem bothered when she lost her queen within four moves. It was then that her companion posed the question.

  “Yes,” she replied absently. “He insisted we help him find a white stag.”

  “Were you successful?”

  “No.” After a silence, Psyche decided she wanted some answers. “Are you familiar with the mountains a bit North of here, right beyond a valley of red poppies?”

  “Echo Mountain, yes. The sunsets are lovely there.”

  “Are there mountain nymphs up there?” Psyche quizzed.

  “I believe there are mountain nymphs wherever there are mountains.”

  Psyche shook her head. “Not in Bromeia. Or at least, I have never seen one. But I think I might have while I was with Narcissus. She was following us.”

  “Hm.”

  Psyche looked up, wishing she could see his expression. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  The creature’s voice seemed dismissive. “She was most likely jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Narcissus is a very handsome young man. Females of all shapes, colors, and species find him quite irresistible.”

  Psyche considered this and remembered how the water nymphs before had been cooing for the handsome youth. She realized that this must be so. He had said so enough times himself.

  Her companion’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Surely, you too, find him appealing.”

  Psyche paused when she realized what he had just said. A smile played on her lips. Could he be jealous as well?

  “Narcissus has a lot of physical attributes,” she admitted, “but I think you overrate his attractiveness to women.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, beauty is only skin deep. And when it is paired with an overstuffed ego, and a complete lack of intelligence or imagination, you’ve got a man quite devoid of appeal, in my opinion.”

  Psyche sensed he was smiling. She heard him shuffle and she realized that he was getting up.

  “I want to show you something.”

  The candle by her side flickered and lifted to light a torch by the entrance. “If you could, please, follow the light. I will be right behind you.”

  She watched as the light went in the direction of the shadowy hallway. She only hesitated for a moment before following. She was no longer afraid of her mysterious husband, but at the same time, she did not completely trust a man who had so many secrets. For some reason, Psyche was not comfortable with the idea of him following behind her. She glanced back nervously, only to see pitch blackness. Was he really still there? She could not hear anything but her own shuffling feet.

  The torch floated to a passageway she had never been to before and finally paused before a huge and elaborately carved door. There was writing on the door, but the light was too dim for her to read it. As she leaned forward for a better look, the door opened very slowly, and saw several candles light up sequentially. The ceiling was so high, she could not see the top. On the walls were stacks and stacks of scrolls, more numerous than she could count.

  “A library!” Psyche gasped.

  “Indeed,” the voice was behind her, still in the dark hallway. “In here, you can find many of your answers, including the mystery of Echo Mountain. You need only to call out which topics you would like to read and appropriate scrolls will be brought to you.”

  Psyche looked around, realizing that the shelves went so high; they seemed to disappear from sight.

  “Echo Mountain,” she called out to the vast room, feeling mildly foolish. “Please.”

  One by one, three scrolls were pulled in different directions and floated to a table nearby. Psyche gasped and touched the scrolls gently. Slowly, she opened one. The writing was in an old style that her father taught her years ago. At first, Psyche struggled with the translation, but after a few lines, she became accustomed to the old language. Quickly, she became engrossed.

  “I shall leave you to your reading.” Psyche heard the voice from the hallway and snapped away from the scroll. “Wait! Won’t you come and read with me?”

  “I would have to have all the lights off.”

  Psyche looked around at the brightly lit room. There were very few patches of shadow left to hide. “I only need one.”

  She felt him hesitate, and she looked around to see that the lights were still on.

  “I insist,” Psyche called out firmly.

  Finally, the candles began to dim and Psyche relaxed and moved towards a huge lounge in the center of the room.

  “Come, sit near me.” She invited him to sit in the far end of the long seat. “We shall read together.”

  “I cannot read in this darkness,” the creature explained.

  “Then I shall read aloud to you.”

  Psyche and her husband sat until the wax from the candles waned low. She read in low voice, and oftentimes Psyche would hear her companion sigh at a particular passage. As Psyche finished and rolled back the scroll, she stifled a yawn.

  The creature’s soft voice was like a purr that made her feel even more relaxed. “You must be so tired. Thank you for reading to me.”

  “Oh, I wish I could stay here all night. It would take a lifetime to read all the scrolls in this library.” She peered high up into the ceiling and could not see the end of the stacks. “I daresay, several lifetimes. Have you read all of them?”

  “Not all of them,” he admitted. “My kind does not really have a need for reading.”

  “And yet, you have this magnificent library!”

  “It was inherited.”

  Psyche sighed. “What a waste.”

  “Not at all. For now, you can have full enjoyment of it.”

  The next morning, Psyche had her breakfast sent up to the library. She knew exactly what she wanted to read today and with her companion not present, she was free to have her questions answered. Psyche took a deep breath and called out, “The Island of Amorus.”

  When nothing was brought to her, Psyche spoke louder. Again, nothing.

  Biting her lip, she tried again. “The Master of Amorus.” Again, there was no response. Nothing was brought to her.

  “Narcissus,” Psyche tried, wondering if the entire system was broken.

  Dozens of scrolls were pulled from random areas of the library and placed on a table nearby.

  Frustrated, Psyche glanced at the writings to see that they were outpourings from various female and occasionally male writers of Narcissus’s beauty and perfection.

  Psyche looked around, realizing that the gatherers of information were blocking certain subjects from her. Determined, she walked to the shelves nearest to her. They were arranged by numerical codes and nothing else. She pulled one out and saw that it was an ancient grocery list. She pulled another and found a poem written with a child’s hand. Psyche climbed up a nearby ladder only to see that the stacks con
tinued higher than she was able to climb without the fear of falling. The candle she was holding flickered and dimmed as if there was a lack of air. Psyche looked down and realized that she was well over three stories high and still could not see the top of the stacks. She took out a scroll that was near her and opened it only to see writing of a language she did not recognize.

  What was this place?

  Abruptly, the vastness of the library filled her with a sense of dread she could not fathom. A sudden sense of panic filled her and she dropped the candle in her hand. The time it took for it to hit the ground with a clatter sickened her, and she found her hands shaking against the ladder. What was this place? She repeated again in her head. Paralyzed with fear, she took a deep breath and forced herself to start the climb down, one step at a time. It took a moment for her to calm down, then she quickly carried herself to her favorite courtyard where the open air and cool pools soothed her.

  “Why does the library never end?”

  It was finally evening and her husband had just arrived, for she could hear him shuffling in his usual corner, but she didn’t wait for him to settle in before she asked the question.

  “Is that your question for the night?”

  When she did not reply, he sighed and continued. “I had hoped you would not explore too deeply.”

  “You do not know me all that well, then.”

  The creature did not answer and instead, did something she had never seen him do before. He got up and he began pacing. She could only vaguely see a shadow, but his steady footsteps were quite audible.

  “The library is simply a place of records. It records everything that has ever been written in the world.”

  “But how is that possible?”

  “My dear, you’ve been here long enough to know that anything is possible.”

  Psyche stopped and realized that he was right. The more she continued questioning the miracles around her, the more she risked losing her mind. It was best not to ask so much. It was best to simply accept as one accepts impossible things in dreams. Perhaps, all of this was a dream, she thought, and that she really had fallen off the cliff and was fainted somewhere, her body dead but her mind still believing herself alive? That was about as possible as libraries that wrote themselves.