Mercy

by Rhiannon Paille

  Sometimes the Lands of Men were too much for him and he couldn’t take it anymore, the longing to go home singing through him. To his left the yard pressed against the water and on his right was a long pier. He didn’t know where Kaliel lived; he’d only seen her in the forest, his forest. He couldn’t go walking the streets hoping she’d recognize him.

  Kaliel wasn’t going to help him.

  Pux wiped the sweat off his hairy face and pulled at his pointed ears. He had an idea but it was a bad one. He stepped out from behind the cement, closed his eyes and made a run for the water. He hated being wet, hated swimming but he had to get home.

  The cold surprised him as he hit, diving head first into it. He wrestled with his tunic and tugged the whistle out, blowing on the end. He swam deeper into the murky water and flailed as a glittery fish crossed his vision, its mouth hanging open, whiskers brushing his face. He batted, making the fish dive deeper. Pux squeezed his eyes shut and waited for it to be over. He sank deeper until the current began sucking him in. He opened his eyes, catching the bottom of the boat as it glided towards the surface. Scrambling around, he grappled at the side of the boat and caught the side.

  He panicked, climbing into the boat, huddling on the bench, muttering the incantation in the freezing water. He held his breath and waited as the boat shuddered and moved in the opposite direction, the bow tilting, almost dumping Pux into the lake again. The bow did a full turn and when it emerged, Pux saw the shores of Nandaro, the gargoyle cave beside the grassy shore. He searched the boat for a paddle and came up with nothing. He couldn’t land in Nandaro and walk through Orlondir. The Priesthood would catch him and Istar would know he’d been to the Lands of Men.

  It would ruin everything.

  Pux scrubbed his itchy skin with his palms and before the boat slid into the grass he jumped out. This was by far the worst idea, but he doggy paddled through the water, ducking when he hit the path to the Sisterhood of Araraema. It was a bright sandy shore, runoff from the waterfall at Mount Tirion flowing into the endless lake. A couple of girls in under garments lazed on the shore. He pulled himself through the water hoping merfolk didn’t find him, or kraken. He had good reason to be afraid of the waters surrounding Avristar, their monsters were dangerous.

  He rounded the island and Evennses came into view. Staying to the surface he kicked his way to the sand. The sun sent a shiver of white flecks over the water and he was momentarily blinded. He fell under and thought he felt a fin but it disappeared when he pushed his head out. He reached the sandbar and walked the rest of the way, pausing at the trees. They creaked, parted and he moved his tired body through, sitting on the other side for a long time taking loud wheezing breaths.

  He pushed himself to his feet and tarried down the path, not really knowing where he was going, but it definitely wasn’t towards the House of Kin. He crossed the creek as the wind kicked up, rustling the canopy and sending flecks of light onto the soil. Pux watched the succession of light travel along the ground as he followed the familiar path towards the border of Amersil.

  Three paths presented themselves and Pux took the left, which lead him very close to the lake, so close he tasted the salt on his lips. It wound around wide trees, and back through patches of daffodils and daisies. By the time he hit the giant snaking roots and the umbrella-like branches of the Great Oak it was midday and he was exhausted.

  He bent over bracing his hands on his knees. Fear gathered in his eyes as he regarded the old tree. It didn’t say anything as he pulled himself over roots, using his hands to vault over the ones as high as his waist. Soon he stood in the clearing. The tree was ominous. Pux chewed his claw and twisted his hands together. He blinked remembering Morgana, the Vulture, and the Brother of Amersil. He replaced the Brother with an old image of Kaliel, white dress and white curls framing her face, wispy white smoke rising out of her lifeless form. The Vulture grew eyes that were blue and green and it struggled, struggled to devour her soul.

  Pux clenched his fist and slammed his knuckles into the tree. “I can’t let him hurt her,” he said, hoping the tree knew exactly why he was there. It was supposed to be wise after all.

  The Great Oak rumbled to life its branches swaying without wind, its trunk groaning like it was working out kinks in its muscles. Pux took a step back as its voice pierced the air. “One step … two step … three step … four.”

  Pux put a hand to his crushed heart, recognizing every word of the familiar parable. “No,” he whispered, dropping to one knee, beseeching the tree to finish it differently.

  “You take three steps … and you never … learn … more.”

  Pux dropped his head in the mud. “I want to be human.” He knew the tree could change him the way it had changed the other feorns before sending them to Lands of Men. The tree had magic in its roots, its leaves, and its heartwood. It could make him human so he could be with Kaliel. Chills exploded through him from his chest outwards and he rattled with the force. He didn’t realize how much he missed her until that moment. A stabbing feeling of longing attacked him and he whimpered.

  “You … were not meant … for the Lands of Men … Pux.”

  “But Kaliel,” Pux said, sounding meek, defeated.

  “Isn’t … a … Child of Avristar.”

  Pux wanted to fight but he didn’t have it in him. He huddled in the clearing until the pangs stopped and dragged himself to his feet, stumbling wordlessly from the tree. He trudged through forest until he emerged in the meadow and clamored up the porch steps. He passed the living room and banged through the doors of the mess hall finding a bowl and dunking it into the barrel of fresh water. He sat at one of the tables and slammed the wooden bowl onto the oak tabletop. He flexed his fingers, putting his hands on either side and let a single tear fall into the water.

  “Where is Shimma?” he asked, the tear creating a ripple throughout the bowl.

  O O O

  Pux stood on the edge of the beach, a half-moon hanging in the sky to the west. He plucked the whistle out from a leather string around his neck and blew on the end. Blinking, he ran his hands down his brown robe, flipping the hood over his face. He had to be careful. Shimma thrived on humans. Despite her immortality, her features made it easy for her to blend into the modern world. Pux unfortunately didn’t have that luxury. The brown robe scratched against his wolf-like legs and he grimaced as the water puckered, the crown appearing. Soon the full wooden woman was in view as she faithfully slid to shore. Determination and fear gripped him as he took a last look at Avristar and bowed his head. He drew in a breath and let it out in a loud sigh as the shore faded from view, mists covering the boat. He pulled the parchment out of his pocket and recited the incantation.

  He didn’t accept what the Great Oak had said. He was far more gifted than most of the Children in Avristar, even some of the Elders. Though he couldn’t explain where his gifts came from he wasn’t about to let them go to waste. Other lesser feorns were sent to the Lands of Men, the Great Oak gave them their humanity, so why not Pux? He preened, brushing dust off his brown cloak as the mists cleared; the moon a sliver in the sky. He checked the surrounding islands for lighthouses, boats, anything that would expose him. The coast was clear, the ocean silent and smooth. His knee bounced as an island came into view. He navigated the boat to the thin strip of sand on the shore and pulled himself off the boat, crouching behind the bushes. Streetlamps illuminated the road on the other side of trees and Pux smelled asphalt. He watched the boat sink. A car whipped by and Pux’s stomach knotted up. He peered through the trees, watching red rear lights shrink. He looked the other way, not wanting to be a feorn caught in the headlights and tiptoed across the pavement. The island was covered in prickly plants and squat trees that Pux didn’t like. He put up with the branches scratching his upper arms and weeds stinging his bare feet until he spotted the harbor.

  He groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was steal a boat. He paused, watching for a long time, sailboats, yachts, and motor boats
all lined up along the docks. A light clicked on beside him and Pux stumbled away. He didn’t even notice the tiny shack with the red roof, or the freshly built porch, untainted wood. He tried to pull himself into the bushes but a man opened the door and Pux froze. He fixed his gaze on Pux and the feorn cowered, squeezing his fist, thinking about the coordinates in his pocket.

  “Hvem er det?” the man asked.

  Pux didn’t answer. He knew humans to be savages and didn’t want to give the man reason to attack him. He closed his eyes and thought hard about Shimma.

  He transported, thankful he didn’t have to figure out how to get across the water with one of those bigger boats. Where he ended up wasn’t much better. Street lamps cast everything in dim light. He was in the middle of a business district, tall buildings turning streets into a maze. He panicked, pulled his hood further over his eyes. He ran across the street and cars honked at him. He darted down a back lane, and almost crashed into a big rectangular trashcan. He grabbed the coordinates again and turned, and turned; his face to the sky but couldn’t make out any star patterns. He cursed as a trail of young kids in neon vests passed him. He watched them follow a woman with graying hair in an orange and yellow vest. He laughed. They reminded him of ducks. They crossed the street on a series of thick white painted lines and passed through a wrought iron gate into a school yard. Pux regarded the red and sandy colored bricks with unease. There were bars on all the windows.

  He continued down the street, passing various people. He pulled the robe taut, fisting the fabric in his palm. His head swam with confusion. There was too much stone, concrete, metal, and electricity. Streetlamps cast eerie light on him and he felt piercing pain. People gave him funny stares, no doubt scrutinizing the brown robe. Pux tried to read signs scattered throughout the city. Some of them were for shops along the main strips, others were for traffic. He was continually blinded by the flashes of green, yellow, and red coming from black streetlamps on the corners of every junction. He crossed when he wasn’t supposed to and was honked at more than once.

  Pux stumbled down the road until he fell against a building, his breathing coming in short staccato bursts. He needed to find her; he couldn’t go back to Evennses. He glanced at a large metal fire escape and recognition pinched him. It looked like something he’d seen in the divining bowl. He rounded the street and recognized the flags hanging off the overhang at the front of the building. It was a white stone building, a man in uniform standing at the gold-plated double doors. A weatherproof mat covered the sidewalk, and luggage carts loitered beside a small garden, concealed by a two-foot stony wall. Pux quickened his pace towards the glass and gold doors, but the man put a hand on his chest. Pux recoiled, his eyes wide as he met the man’s blue ones, blond hair escaping his hat.

  “Belager, dette er private,” the man said.

  Pux frowned, looking through the revolving glass doors into the lobby. He closed his eyes, contemplated it and gritted his teeth. He squeezed his fist and transported. It wasn’t the best idea to disappear in front of humans, but the other alternative was letting them see him as a feorn and he couldn’t do that either. Desperation lit his insides like a flame as he traveled through blackness, waiting to emerge on the other side.

  When he reappeared, he was in the foyer of a small apartment. His eyes lit up as he saw Shimma bent over the arm of a couch, some scruffy bare-chested guy on his knees, banging into her in even successions. She moaned loudly as the guy locked eyes with Pux and flipped out.

  “Hva I helvete?” the guy shouted, pulling away hastily as Pux pulled his hood off his face. The guy ducked beside the coffee table and pulled on a pair of pants as Shimma looked up, her eyes widening.

  “Ahdunie,” Pux said.

  “Holy fuck!” Shimma said, shifting so her arm was across her breasts. She bent over the couch as the guy yelled more explicit things at her, pointing at Pux. The guy had his pants on now, his fingers still working the top button. Pux averted his eyes feeling his face flush with embarrassment. He didn’t mean to stare. He moved out of the way as the guy fled down the short hallway.

  “Vent litt, ikka ga,” Shimma said, running a hand through her hair and leaving it suspended, some gesture meant to calm the guy down. Pux didn’t catch the rest as she pulled on her underwear and jeans and followed the guy to the door. She shot daggers at Pux with her eyes as she passed him, not bothering to conceal her breasts anymore. Pux heard them talking in hushed tones by the door, more of the language he didn’t understand. He hung his head and slid his robe off his shoulders, not liking the way it made him itch. He scratched his hairy shoulders as he looked around the apartment. Black leather couches, coffee table, two square windows rimmed with white windowsills, small kitchenette, granite counters. It all looked very expensive, and very new. The door slammed shut and Pux scratched his neck as Shimma came into the room. She grabbed a white tank top off the floor and threw it over her head. She turned and Pux coughed; her nipples visible through the shirt.

  She crossed her arms and glowered at him. “What in the fuck are you doing here?”

  Pux looked at anything but her. “I need you to make me human,” he said, sounding boyish.

  “Why?” Shimma spat, glancing at the door, a worried expression crossing her face. “You can’t just walk in on people like that. You’ve probably scarred that guy for life.”

  Pux followed her gaze to the door. “What were you doing?”

  Shimma narrowed her eyes, a teasing expression on her face. “Aw, don’t tell me they don’t teach fucking one oh one on Avristar anymore. Honestly, what do you think we were doing?”

  Pux didn’t think he could get redder. “I guess … is he your boyfriend?”

  Shimma laughed. “Nope.” She went to a small room off the living room, and pulled the elastic out of her hair, combing through it with her fingers.

  “Do you have any magic left?” Pux asked, wanting to get away from Shimma as quickly as possible. He kept checking the rest of the apartment for the other two but it seemed that for the time being, Shimma was alone. He was grateful. Kazza and Kuruny were pretty ruthless, and unaccustomed to helping the less fortunate.

  Shimma laughed again, a terrible cackling sound. “Do I have magic?” she repeated, mocking him. She came out of the small room and pulled a face. “I can make you human, but you have to tell me why.”

  Pux looked at the floor. “Kaliel is alive.”

  “No? Really?” Shimma said, that sly smile creeping across her face.

  “You knew?”

  Shimma shrugged. “You’re about a decade late hun,” she said, an accent coloring her words.

  Pux did the math in his head and frowned. Only a year behind since he was in Evennses all the time. “Krishani found her.” He said it like that might make a difference but with Shimma he couldn’t be sure. She was weird.

  “He did? That’s interesting.…” She grabbed something out of the fridge and threw it at Pux. He turned over the slippery thing in his hand, unable to read the label. Inside it was some clear liquid. He looked at Shimma, she unscrewed the top and tipped it back and so he did the same thing, trying to seem smooth about it. It tasted gross but he swallowed it.

  “He’s going to hurt her.”

  Shimma moved to the couch and stared at it but perched on the edge of the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other. “And why do I care?”

  “You don’t have to care, you just have to make me human,” Pux rebutted, his eyes imploring her to agree.

  Shimma hummed. “And what do I get out of it?”

  Pux sighed and crouched, rifling through the pockets in his robe. He removed the smooth misshapen stone and held it in his palm. It was his Avristar birthstone, given to him a very long time ago. “Something that should have been yours,” he said, closing his fingers around the stone so she couldn’t snatch it. She shot him a knowing smile and let out a short laugh. “What?” Pux asked, frantic, misinterpreting her laughter for rejection. “I know better than to
ask without offering you a boon,” he accused.

  Shimma stopped smiling and put the side of her fist to her mouth. “Yeah,” she grumbled. “You got that part right.” She sighed and pressed her hands to her thighs, glancing to either side of the apartment then at Pux again. She looked different with her hair down. She still had that same milky white skin, but it was darker, kissed by summer sun. Her blonde hair was perfect, a bit more strawberry than he remembered. Immortality served her well; she was very slim, almost to a fault. She stood, and Pux recoiled, hating the fact she didn’t care how much of her he saw.

  She shot him a glare. “Can I trust you to stay here while I go out and get supplies?”

  Pux stood up straight and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. Don’t touch anything.”

  “Do you have anything to eat?”

  Shimma rolled her eyes and opened a cupboard, dropping a bag of Hershey’s kisses on the counter. “Knock yourself out with those. I’ll bring something back.”

  Pux took the bag, unwrapping one of the little chocolates and popping in into his mouth. It tasted really good. He heard Shimma leave, and brought the whole bag of chocolates over to the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor.

  O O O

  Shimma found Pux passed out on the floor in the fetal position, the coffee table and floor littered with tiny foil wrappers. When she told him to knock himself out she didn’t expect him to take that so literal. She rolled her eyes and lifted her arms, pulling her burgundy pouch over her head and dropping it on the counter. It thunked loudly and the sound reverberated through the room but Pux didn’t move. She crept across the floor, straddling his pathetic animalistic body. His feet were wolf-like, his fingernails tiny claws, his ears cat-like. The hair on his head was combed back and curled around his ears. She wondered how she was going to make him look human, her transfiguration skills well out of practice. She poked him in the shoulder and he flinched, hugging his arms tighter to his chest.