Emeline looked down sheepishly. “Garrick, you’re staring.”
Garrick blinked and looked away. “Terribly sorry.”
He brushed himself off and stood. He looked back over to the boat. “Right, so our stolen vessel.”
“Borrowed,” Emeline said, playfully.
“Borrowed,” Garrick said, smiling at her. “We need to make sure it wasn’t damaged. It worked well enough in the short trip to shore, but it must stay afloat.”
Emeline cleared her throat and straightened up. “Yes, of course,” she said in a deep, mocking voice. “Serious business these boat affairs.”
Garrick gave her a look, and they both laughed. It had been so long since Garrick felt relaxed. He looked at Emeline’s smiling face and realized that the world would be a dark place if it wasn’t for her and, one day, he would tell her how he truly felt.
Garrick looked at the boat and noticed the canvas cushioning sewn into the sides, the work of Fembleton’s tailor. Tied against the cushions were various packs of supplies and clothing. It was no wonder the boat was so hard to right in the water, there was enough to last a journey to Paloise almost twice over. Cassius wasn’t just taking a short visit, he’d provisioned himself for the span of months, possibly never to return.
“That scum knew the attack was going to happen,” Garrick said with a frown. “He must’ve. How else would one know to prepare like this?” He turned to Emeline.
Emeline shook her head. “But how? Why wouldn’t he have told anyone else?”
Garrick pushed the boat and rolled it upside-down so the hull faced the sky. He brushed off the caked sand and cursed.
“What is it?” Emeline asked, hovering over his shoulder.
“Exactly what I was afraid of. The hull’s cracked.” Garrick pointed to two spots where chunks of wood had broken off, revealing wide enough gaps to squeeze two fingers through.
Emeline furrowed her brow. “Those aren’t too big. Isn’t there something we can do to patch it?”
Garrick stood and thought for a moment. He looked down at his sword, then toward the trees. “We can use tree sap.”
Chopping a hole into a tree was the easy part, as Garrick was lucky enough to have tools somewhat appropriate for the job; however, collecting the sap and treating it was another story.
Eager not to waste any more time, they fixed several flat river stones together by piling them into a makeshift container to hold the sap. They left a space underneath for a fire and mixed the sap in with some clay to make a paste. The heat made the sap thick and sticky, causing it to bubble and hiss. Emeline drew up a dab with a long stick, and it stretched up like a heavy piece of melted cheese.
“How did you learn this?” Emeline said, staring at the glistening brown strand until it finally separated.
Garrick sat back and smiled into the fire crackling under the pile of stones.
“Father taught me on the farm when I was young. A way to mend woodwork in a pinch,” he said. He gave a soft chuckle. “I mocked that I’d never make use of the lesson.”
The smile on Garrick’s face lingered for a moment before it faded to a sad and distant stare. “I miss them.”
Silence passed between Emeline and Garrick.
He looked at Emeline. “My parents, that is.” He looked back down at the fire. “Decades have passed since they were killed, but it’s just . . . I wish I’d more time with them.”
In the stew of sadness he felt a flicker of something else inside, something that reminded him of his nightmares. He was suddenly aware of the crystal hidden in his pocket. His hand went to it and he felt a jolt of something dreadful inside his soul when his fingers touched its jagged surface.
“It must be lonely for you on that farm,” Emeline said.
Garrick let go of the crystal and withdrew his hand. “I wish I never inherited it. It’s just a reminder of a family that was torn apart too soon. One of the reasons why I frequent the tavern so.”
A shiver went through his body at the thought of drinking an ale, causing his mouth to go dry. Garrick had done his best to distract himself from his insatiable thirst since his flask emptied, but in that moment he would’ve given almost anything for just one more drop of the foaming amber liquid.
Emeline placed hand on Garrick’s arm and the contact made him jump to his feet and back away.
“What’s wrong?” Emeline asked.
Garrick looked down at her, just as shocked. “Sorry, I . . . .”
Emeline smiled. “That’s alright, sit back down. The paste needs a bit more time.”
“We’ll need more. I’ll fetch some,” he said as he backed away from a confused looking Emeline.
Garrick hefted his sword as he walked back over to the trees, cursing himself for acting like such a fool. She was everything he’d always wanted, and now that they were alone he didn’t know what to do with the intimacy. Flickers of strange emotions mixed in his chest; sadness, pain, anxiety, and there was something else. He still couldn’t tell what it was, but it was growing.
The crystal beckoned for Garrick’s touch, but he pushed it out of his mind and walked to the tree line of the clearing’s edge. He stopped and stared at the ground, deep in thought. He had to do it, he had to tell Emeline everything. And not just about his feelings for her but about everything that was happening to him.
He leaned his hand against the trunk of an alder tree as he rehearsed what he was going to say in his head. When he turned away, he didn’t notice the bruise of decay spreading on the tree from where his palm had just been.
“Weren’t you getting more sap?” Emeline asked when Garrick returned.
“What?” He looked down at the sword he was holding, completely unused since their first sapping. He flushed with embarrassment.
“Must’ve forgotten,” Garrick said as he sheathed the sword.
Emeline gave a confused look. Garrick opened his mouth to talk, but froze. Overwhelming nervousness rendered him wide-eyed and speechless, something that seemed to happen a lot in front of Emeline.
Eager to distract himself, he drew up some paste from their fire. The thick dark liquid looked like molasses, stubbornly clinging to the stick. It looked ready. He walked it over and painted the glob of sap onto the hull, spreading it around so it filled the crack.
Emeline stood, walked over, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Garrick, are you well?”
Garrick took a deep breath and set down the stick. “I’ve something to tell you.” The thought of sharing his nightmares with her was terrifying, but it helped to share it with Seelios in a moment of weakness. Perhaps with Emeline it would be similar.
She gave a smile and looked deep into his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with what you were going to say at the tavern?”
Garrick flushed crimson, surprised that she remembered. “I, well, no, I mean . . . I want to tell you that too.”
He took in another deep breath. “The truth is,” Garrick started. He shifted uncomfortably in his stance as Emeline stepped closer with an expectant look, forcing his gaze down in a bashful reaction. His heart pounded in his chest.
“The truth is I—” Garrick lifted his head, and his eyes went wide.
Two arms appeared from behind Emeline, one brandishing a dagger to her throat while the other clamped over a muffled scream.
“No!” Garrick yelled.
“Now, now. Stay back or someone might get hurt.” Cassius bared his yellow and brown teeth in a wicked smile from behind Emeline’s red hair.
11
“Cassius, if you don’t unhand her right now I swear I’ll end your life!” Garrick said.
“An interesting proposal; however, I decline your offer and have another instead. Hand over what you stole or it’ll get messy for the wench.”
Garrick shifted his eyes to Emeline, who stared back at him with a look of sheer terror. He wanted to save her, but found himself battling an overwhelming desire to keep the crystal. His hand went down to his pocket an
d fidgeted with the jewel, clutching it in a tight fist. Emeline’s eyes darted down to his hand, then back up as if to beg him to comply.
Garrick straightened and swallowed nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Emeline’s eyes melted into tearful disbelief. The sadness and betrayal written on her face was so apparent that Garrick had to look away.
“You lie.” Cassius pulled the knife closer to Emeline’s throat and she gave another muffled scream.
Garrick watched a trickle of blood roll down her neck from where the knife bit. Emotions turmoiled inside him. He knew what must be done, but struggled with all of his will to commit to action.
Emeline tried to yell something, but her voice came out in muted tones through Cassius’s hand. Garrick caressed the sharp edges of the crystal in his pocket. He slowly drew it up with his hand and held it in the air, the ends of the broken leather cord trembling as they hung through his shaking fingers.
Cassius’s eyes grew wide and hungry at the sight of the crystal. “Yes, that’s it. Give it here.”
“Release her first,” Garrick said.
Cassius curled his lip into a sneer. “I know your desires. You yearn to keep the shard to yourself. Don’t think I can’t see past your treachery.”
Garrick wanted to yell and call him a liar, but his words were true. He couldn’t easily give the crystal up. Something drew him into its beautiful surface, something that Garrick didn’t understand. One thing was clear, the longer he held the crystal, the more the nightmares began to make sense. The voice he remembered was no longer menacing and sinister, but had spoken truth and purpose. Suddenly, the voice came again in that moment in front of Cassius and Emeline. It told Garrick to do as Cassius said.
The crystal trembled in Garrick’s outstretched shaking hand. Cassius inched closer, keeping his knife tight against Emeline. Half the neckline of her green dress was matted against her chest, soaked with blood. When he was within reach, he snatched the crystal out of Garrick’s hand.
The moment Garrick felt the crystal leave his fingertips he felt like his heart had been ripped out. The pain was sudden and immediate, and he moved to grab it back.
“Don’t you dare,” Cassius said as he took a few steps backward, still holding the knife to Emeline.
“Cassius, you scumbag!” Emeline yelled, now free of Cassius’s hand. “You got your necklace, now let us go.”
“The crystal, give it back,” Garrick said, in a pleading voice.
Emeline’s face twisted into confusion and disbelief. “Garrick,” she whispered.
Cassius lifted his eyes from the crystal that he held in his palm and gave a wicked smile. He dropped the knife from Emeline’s throat and shoved her away.
Garrick made no motion to catch her as she stumbled in the sand and fell. He stepped over Emeline and walked toward Cassius with a certain hunger in his eyes.
Cassius clenched the crystal in his hands and drew back his arm, poised to throw it. “Take one more step and it goes into the river.”
Garrick froze in his tracks. He could’ve easily overpowered Cassius, but the thought of losing the crystal brought him to a panic so deep that it felt like his heart would burst.
“Garrick, what are you doing? Let’s just leave. You don’t need that thing,” Emeline said.
Cassius’s brown and yellow teeth showed through his wide grin. Garrick desired the crystal beyond reason, and would do anything for it. The look in Cassius’s eyes showed that he knew it too.
Cassius opened his palm and presented the gleaming crystal to Garrick. It sparkled in the sunlight, radiating a rainbow of colors like a magical diamond. Garrick’s eyes watered at the sight of the thing. His lust for it was stronger than anything he’d ever felt. It was a longing that made his whole being ache.
“You want this, don’t you?” Cassius said with a sneer. He moved his eyes to Emeline. “Kill her.”
Garrick stood for a moment, still looking at the crystal. He watched as Cassius held it up and dangled it in the air.
“Kill her and it shall be yours,” Cassius said.
Garrick’s pulse quickened. The possibility of having the crystal back in his possession, holding it in his hands again, was intoxicating. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and turned toward Emeline.
“Garrick, no!” Emeline screamed as she took a step back.
In only two strides Garrick was within reach of Emeline. The moment his sword plunged into her torso, he felt his emotions change. The veil of excitement lifted, revealing the terrible thing he had just done. Emeline’s eyes went wide as her fingers fumbled over the blade in her chest, shoved nearly all the way to its hilt. Garrick gaped with horror, looking down at the sword in his hand, then back up to her face. He backed away, his legs shaking and unresponsive. He fell onto the ground with his eyes still fixated on Emeline, skewered by his blade. She swayed on her feet, then collapsed.
“W—what have I done?” Garrick whispered with a quivering voice as he looked down at his blood soaked sleeve, nearly all white but moments before. He crawled over to her on his hands and knees.
She was lying on her side. The blade had pierced through her chest and protruded out her back, steel dripping red. She wheezed as she struggled to breathe.
“Garrick, I’m so cold,” Emeline said, barely a whisper. The whites of her teeth were dark with blood that bubbled up from her throat.
“Gods be damned. We’ll get you out of here. I’ll get you to a healer,” Garrick said with a panicked tone as he stripped off his green vest, then his shirt. The white cloth pooled dark red stains as he draped it over her with shaking hands.
“I won’t make it.” Her voice was barely audible.
Garrick’s face twisted up as he struggled to fight back his anguish. Tears blurred his vision. “No. No no no no,” Garrick said. He ran his fingers through his hair and began rocking back and forth.
Emeline slowly lifted a palm and rested it on his, looking into his eyes. “Hold my hand,” she whispered.
Garrick looked with wavering eyes at her delicate, white skin. He turned his palm up and worked his fingers between hers, curling them around the back of her hand. She returned the gesture with a small squeeze. When he looked down at her, she stared back at him with pain, but still held a smile in her eyes.
“Emeline, I’m so sorry. I lost myself, I . . . please, I could never forgive myself if I lost you. Don’t leave me.”
“I forgive you.” She tried taking another breath but instead turned her head and coughed up thick blood that spattered the ground. “But you must . . . forgive yourself.”
Emeline raised her eyes, barely able to hold them open, and smiled. In the faintest whisper, she said, “I would’ve died hiding in that tavern.” Her voice grew weaker with each word. “But you saved me. At least we had these last . . . moments.”
Her hand went limp and slid out of his grip. Her eyelids drifted shut with her smile still lingering on her face.
“Emeline?” Garrick grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a shake. “Emeline!” Her curly red hair slid over her face. He stared for a moment, waiting for her to say something.
“Emeline, you can’t die. I need you.” Garrick’s words nearly came out in sobs. He brushed her hair away to reveal her beauty. “I love you,” he said with a shuddering voice.
Garrick shut his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder. Tears streamed out and soaked the bloody shirt that draped over her. Garrick lifted his head and gave an anguished cry, tears of rage streaking down his cheeks. Unfathomable anger coursed through his veins.
Garrick stood and spun around, wiping his eyes. The spot where Cassius once stood had nothing but bare silt and sand. “Where have you fled, coward?” Garrick screamed. His eyes swept the clearing and saw the boat was gone. He walked to where it was dragged into the river and saw a sparkle in the sand.
Garrick stared at the crystal for a moment, all the feelings of rage and anguish slowly drained out of h
im. He bent down and picked it up. Something sinister spread through him, replacing his old anger with a new one. It was a type of anger that he only felt in the smallest echoes of his nightmares.
A voice came to him inside his head as clear as if it had been whispered into his ear.
“Welcome to the wretched,” the voice of his nightmares said.
Garrick tied the leather cord around his neck and let the crystal hang against his bare chest, his once anguished face now solemn and emotionless. He turned away from the river and walked past Emeline’s body, into the woods.
12
Seelios groaned as he rolled over and felt the knots of tree roots under his back. He opened his eyes and saw sunlight peering through a canopy of leaves overhead.
“Gregory!” Seelios shouted as he sat up. The motion caused excruciating pain in the side of his chest, and he lay back on the ground.
Seelios took a deep breath, which only seemed to aggravate the pain. When he reached around with his hand, he found no blood. His ribs, however, felt like they were shattered.
“Is anyone there?” Seelios yelled. His voice echoed through an endless stretch of forest in every direction.
Seelios slowly moved toward a nearby tree and propped himself against the trunk. The task felt like it took an eternity, every small motion resulting in a jolt of pain. His surroundings didn’t look familiar and assumed something must have gone wrong with the teleportation totem. He looked down at the artifact still clutched in his hand, lines of bright light traced its edges and yellow runes glowed within the marble gem. It was warm, almost too warm to hold.
Seelios shoved his hand into his tunic and rummaged around until he found the rejuvenation stone. Its runes brimmed with a fiery light, flashing and sparkling as if the sun was trapped within its core. He felt an energy within it unlike anything he’d felt from an artifact before, far greater than what Gregory imbued within it earlier. He looked down at his ring and saw it too shined with runes of radiant brilliance.
As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1) Page 9