Blindsighted Wanderer

by E. Hibbs

  “Rose...” Merrin whispered, “and amarant.”

  A crow cawed in the trees, and then there was a distant shout of somebody shouting.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  Across the Wall

  “L

  ady in Heaven above, this truly is a Godforsaken place!” exclaimed Irima as she helped Silas down from the Wall. When his feet touched the soil of Evertodomus, an involuntary shiver coursed through him, and he clutched at his arms, dropping the branch in the process. He quickly stooped to pick it up, and crossed himself with his other hand.

  “Kyrie eleison –” he started whispering, but then cried out as pain stabbed in his left hand.

  “Ai!” Irima gasped, and the pearls tinkled as she looked over. “What be the matter?”

  Silas gritted his teeth, spreading his fingers wide and breathing raggedly as the sting subsided, disappearing as quickly as it had come. He swallowed, but couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice when he spoke.

  “They know I am here.”

  “How can they?” replied Irima, but her own words shook uncertainly. “Yer’ve barely taken a single step!”

  Silas flexed his fingers, and then rubbed his hand hard against his leg. It seemed like he was trying to scrub off the shimmering calluses as though they were mud. He remembered the way that the whole forest had seemed to be against him, whispering and chilling him to the bone. Even now, in his blindness, he knew that the eyes were watching with patience uncountable, warding him back and drawing him closer in the same instance.

  Come, unwelcome fool, they seemed to be saying in his head. Come on to the doom you set down upon yourself, foolish human who dares to return...

  Silas shook his head in horror. “Demons,” he breathed. Then he wheeled on Irima, snatching out and finding her wrists. “You must leave! I cannot let you come to harm!”

  “I told yer, I’s not leavin’ yer here all alone!” she snapped back without hesitation, but he heard the terror behind her brave front.

  An eerie silence suddenly descended upon the forest, and Silas felt it pressing on his shoulders like a physical weight, almost driving him to his knees. He didn’t know how close they were to the shore, but the knowledge that he was standing in the forbidden land struck dread into his heart. He was coming to find Raphael – but how could he know that it wasn’t all some kind of elaborate trap, so that the screaming demon he’d ensnared could finish him off?

  Before he could worry himself further, Irima grasped his hand again and began pulling him on. He raised his other hand and swung the branch back and forth, feeling it smack against the trees in a series of horrid hollow taps. Branches and leaves whipped over him, and stones and roots rose up from the spongy undergrowth to catch his feet. His breath snatched as he fought not to panic.

  “Where are we? What do you see?” he asked hurriedly.

  Irima’s pearls tinkled as she cast her head around. “Just trees,” she answered, equally quiet. “Hundreds o’ trees.”

  Silas hesitated. Were they even going in the right direction?

  “Head towards the south west,” he said. “We cannot miss it then.”

  Irima didn’t reply. He gathered that she already knew what he was seeking.

  A crow rasped out nearby, and as one, they screamed, leaping away in fright. Silas felt his back slam into a tilting tree, and then gravity rolled him around the trunk, his hand snapping from Irima’s. Empty air opened up underneath him and he spun about quickly, arms outstretched – and managed to grasp one of the tree’s branches as his feet swung out uncontrollably. The cane clattered beneath him, and then there was a scraping sound as it rolled down a slope. He clung on for dear life, terrified at the prospect of a massive drop below.

  “Silas!” Irima cried from the other side of the tree. “Silas, are yer alrigh’?”

  Silas swallowed, struggling to find grip on the smooth bark. Demon laughter rippled through his mind.

  “Silas?”

  “Aye!”

  She sighed in relief. Silas flung his head around, trying to judge how far away she was from him. Sweat made his hands slip and he quickly interlocked his fingers over the top of the branch.

  “Can yer climb up?” she asked.

  “I’m trying,” he snarled, but hissed in pain as the old wound in his arm throbbed under his weight. He collected himself, then raised a leg and tried to hook it over the branch.

  “Ah, almost!” Irima said when he fell back. “I can’t get to yer. I’ll fall if I try movin’ any closer.”

  “Nay, nay, stay where you are,” growled Silas.

  “Yer can’t hang there all day!”

  “I know.”

  Almost to prove his point, his hands slipped again and he grabbed frantically, trying to swing up, but to no avail. He scowled in agitation.

  “How large is the drop?” he asked, voice strained with the effort of hanging on.

  “Large enough,” replied Irima.

  She broke off in fear. Silas shivered. This whole place was full of fear. It was like a breeding ground for it, always bringing down shadows into well-meaning hearts, and making the most honest man see the darkest depths of his soul.

  When the only world that one has ever known is contained in this Valley, he thought softly; then it would only make sense to know that half is its own Hell.

  That notion chilled him to the bone, and he lost sense of time. The branches from the canopy overhead distorted any shadows, and everything felt colder on this side of the Wall. As though to drive it home, a horribly bitter wind suddenly blew down and moaned through the trees. He screwed his eyes shut against it as it tore at him, and whispered his name.

  “Silas!”

  He jumped at the shout, alarmingly loud in the still quiet. But more than that, he realised, it wasn’t coming from across from him, but underneath him – and it was a man’s voice. Irima fell silent too. Silas’ heart pounded in his chest. He heard the yell again.

  “What is that?” Irima breathed, her words shaking.

  Silas didn’t reply. The same question was buzzing around his head like a swarm of angry hornets. He focused intently on trying to form a picture of his surroundings, so that the voice could fall into place. Overhead, the bark was becoming slick with sweat.

  He suddenly heard footsteps running across the ground below, the rustle of clothing – that sounded oddly wet. He froze, listening hard, and there was a sudden gasp as he was noticed.

  “Oh! Silas!” the man shouted again – and Silas finally recognised the voice.

  “Raph?” he whispered.

  In a split second, he lost his grip. He rushed hysterically to regain hold, but it was too late, and the branch slipped from under his weary fingers. Air rushed past his ears and he crashed into the ground, head slamming so hard that his own scream silenced.

  *

  Seeing Silas fall was as though time had stopped for Raphael. He threw himself down beside him, turning him over with shaking hands. Silas was limp and his eyes were closed, but his chest was moving.

  “Silas!” Raphael’s voice shook as he supported his brother’s head in the crook of his arm. “Si?”

  There was another cry from above – the girl who he’d heard whilst running towards the shouts – but Raphael only had attention for Silas. A trickle of blood was beginning to run from his hairline, and the fingers on his left hand – lying slumped over his stomach – twitched.

  The girl arrived, kneeling down on Silas’ other side. Raphael only glanced up briefly, too worried to speak to her. When Silas remained unresponsive, she quickly grabbed his arm and pressed two fingers to his wrist.

  “He’s alive,” Raphael informed her.

  She nodded. “I know; I just needed to make sure his heart’s beatin’ alrigh’.” She suddenly whipped a blue kerchief out of her shirt and handed it over. “Press that against his head where he be a’bleedin’.”

  Raphael snatched it and did as he was told, and then called Silas’ name again. To his re
lief, his eyes fluttered.

  “Si?” Raphael said anxiously.

  Silas groaned, but he kept his eyes closed.

  “Silas, can yer hear me?” the girl asked, clutching his hand.

  “Mm,” he said, speech slurred slightly. He moved his head back and forth, as though searching, or listening. “Raph...?”

  “Aye, I am here,” Raphael assured him quickly. “Si, are you alright?”

  Silas coughed. “Fine,” he said, and Raphael sighed in relief.

  “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered, and then looked back to the girl in front of him, taking in her face for the first time. She was a Patrian – he could tell that immediately – and long black hair fell around her shoulders, cut into a fringe across her brow. Her grey eyes were fixed on Silas, worry lines etched deeply around her mouth as she pressed her lips tightly together.

  “And to ye,” he added.

  She glanced at him, and nodded once. “Yer welcome. So yer be Raphael, eh?”

  “Aye. Who are you?”

  But before she could answer, Silas pulled his hand gently out of hers and then reached up, fingers outstretched, feeling for his brother’s face. Raphael grasped it gently.

  “Si, open your eyes,” he said.

  The girl suddenly tensed, and Silas sucked in a breath.

  “Nay,” he answered, alarmingly quickly. “Nay, my... my head hurts. The light would hurt me.”

  Raphael frowned. Silas never mentioned when he was in pain, not even when it was obvious he could barely heft a sickle. But then he suddenly remembered what Merrin had said after the two of them had reached the cave, about their family’s peril.

  “How is Ma?” he asked, voice tightening. “And the others; are they safe?”

  Silas paused, and his eyebrows lowered. “How did ye know about them?”

  “That matters not. Answer me!”

  “They’re safe, they’re with me Uncle n’ the rest o’ us,” replied the girl hastily, and she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “He got to ‘em in good time, an’ sent them up to our camp. Me Uncle has ‘em under his protection, you mark me. We never turn away unfortunates. Nothin’ further shall happen now.”

  Relief crept over Raphael as she spoke and he listened to her strange words, before Silas recoiled.

  “Thou are soaking wet!” he exclaimed, wrenching his hand free and patting over his brother’s chest. “Oh, we must leave immediately, Raph! Before they come! Where is Irima?”

  “I’m righ’ next to yer,” the girl said, tapping his arm gently.

  “Then we must go!” Silas stiffened as he went to get up, but Raphael quickly held him back.

  “You can’t walk like this,” he told him.

  Silas scoffed and tried again. Irima grasped his shoulders.

  “Don’t be daft, yer imbecile,” she snapped, surprisingly firmly.

  “But we must get away!” Silas argued.

  For the first time, Raphael heard the terror in his brother’s voice. He tried to hide his bewilderment of Silas’ behaviour; he seemed genuinely scared, and strangely twitchy – two things he never let show. Something was wrong.

  Before Silas could try to fight again, Raphael slipped his arms around his shoulders and under his knees, and lifted him off the ground. Silas looped his left arm around Raphael’s neck, curling his fingers into a loose fist. Irima immediately got to her feet and took the kerchief, tying it securely around Silas’ head.

  “How do yer reckon we’re goin’ to get him o’er the Wall like this?” she asked.

  Raphael sucked both lips into his mouth and chewed them for a moment before he answered. “He should have recovered enough to cross it by tonight.”

  Silas started in alarm. “Nay, we must leave now, Raph!” he cried. “The demons, they will come for us!”

  “Hush!” said Raphael, beginning to walk back in the direction he had come, and away from the Wall. Irima trotted along, confusion rife in her eyes. Her beads jingled with every step.

  “Where’re we going?” she asked, pointing towards the east. “The Wall’s that way. We can get back up that there slope I came down, y’see. Then we haven’t got a long way to walk at night. N’ it’d be better for Silas; it will do him nowt good to be movin’ around like this! Ai, do yer hear me?”

  Raphael tore his eyes from Silas – who had set his jaw in the way that snarled he was fine – and glanced at her. “Aye, I hear you,” he replied, keeping his voice calm. “But we cannot leave here yet.”

  “Why?” she pressed, pouting her lips.

  Raphael turned back to look where he was going, leading her on into Delamere. Then he noticed the Lake glimmering in the distance, and began using it as an aid to find his way back towards the cave.

  “We can’t stay!” Irima insisted. “Why don’t yer listen?”

  Silas nodded. “Please, Raph.”

  Raphael looked between the two of them. “I would imagine it dangerous if we left now. Am I correct?” he asked, thinking quickly. It was a wild guess, based only on the vague details that Merrin had told him – but Silas stiffened, giving a surer reply than if he had spoken.

  “Worry not,” Raphael added softly. “We will not come to harm here.”

  Irima suddenly leapt in front of him so abruptly that he stopped in his tracks. “How can yer say such a thing?” she stormed. “Look at him, for Lady’s sake!”

  She suddenly bit her lip and Silas growled in frustration. Raphael paused, frowning, and glanced at him. On his shoulder, he felt Silas’ fist tighten.

  “Sorry,” Irima muttered in a small voice – and Raphael realised that Silas’ eyes were still closed.

  “Si?” he said softly, but his voice was taught with a horrid, sudden suspicion. “Look at me.”

  Silas turned his head slightly in Irima’s direction, teeth clenched accusingly. She gave a guilty fidget; then he sighed in defeat and opened his eyes.

  Raphael felt his heart skip a beat. White misty globes gazed from Silas’ face, their deep brown completely vanished. Around the edges, they were bloodshot, and the skin underneath puffy and bruised, as though he hadn’t slept since all the trouble had begun. Now that Raphael saw his eyes, it was almost as though even Silas’ skin and hair had also paled; his rich tan a shade lighter, and the violent copper waves raked with a strange ashen hue.

  Silas swallowed, turning away in shame, and uncurled his fist. Raphael carried on looking at him, until Silas lifted his hand up from his shoulder and held it in front of his face. Raphael glanced at it, and gasped. The palm looked as though it had been burned, and it shone as though wet; the surface disfigured with bumps, and horribly tight over his bones.

  “What in God’s name...?” he muttered when he finally found his voice again, and quickly tightened his grip on Silas so that he wouldn’t drop him. Horror filled him to the brim. Never before had he seen his brother – his Silent Si – so weak and fragile. It was as though the strong-willed, sharp-tongued boy had suddenly shrivelled and saturated, like a leaf in autumn. His voice was softer than when Raphael had last seen him, as though something had worked through him and filed down his jagged edges; but he suddenly seemed like a completely different person – almost like the child he had once been, letting his older brother protect him.

  Dear God in Heaven... what terrible thing is this upon him?

  Silas shuddered. “Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatæ Mariæ semper Virgini,” he whispered, barely audible, “I have sinned greatly; in thought and in word; in what I have done and in what I have failed in doing; through my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault...”

  Raphael glanced again at his brother’s hand, and a fragment of the tale he had heard that very morning flashed in his memory. It mixed with all the knowledge he had gained from his time spent in Delamere, and everything immediately slotted into place perfectly.

  Raphael’s eyes shone, and he glared up into the labyrinth of trees. “Merrin!”

  CHAPTER XXIX

  A Curse Lifted


  R aphael felt Silas clutching loosely at his shoulder as he stormed through the forest. His boots hit the earth hard, crunching into the old leaves, and Irima hurried beside him at a jog. A willow warbler sung from somewhere deep in the trees, and frogs croaked nearby. The steady, loud wing-beats of a crow sounded, and its dark shadow passed over his face. On the surface, Raphael felt fine: still warm and caring – but something had hardened inside him, and he coursed with intent, fearless and wanting.

  The Lake appeared, and at the sound of the lapping water, Silas stiffened in his arms, desperate to run. His breath trembled, and Raphael gently squeezed under his knee as they passed beneath the lip of the cave. The dampness of the trapped air was like sinking underwater.

  “Merrin, show your face!” he stormed, so suddenly and forcefully that Silas started. Raphael gently lowered him to the ground, and Silas threw out a hand to gauge his surroundings, screwing his eyes tightly shut. He found a gnarled root protruding from a wall behind Raphael, and grasped it anxiously. Irima appeared at his side and laid a hand on his arm.

  Raphael kept his eyes straight ahead, moving in front of the two of them. Soft footsteps echoed off the stony walls, and then Merrin appeared, drawing in slow, deep breaths. She looked at him. Her face bore a guarded expression, but was also shot with sorrow and shame. Still holding the rose loosely, the light just managed to dance on the front of her hair, and caught the amarant carpet. The dark blossoms looked like a pool of spilled blood around her feet

  At the sight of her, Irima gasped and shuffled back. Merrin’s large eyes strayed to the Traveller girl, and then over to Silas. Her lips pressed together tightly, but soon relaxed, as though she were setting eyes upon him for the first time. In that moment, Raphael understood immediately what had happened. When Silas had come to the Lake, she hadn’t cared what might happen to him or what had brought him, only that she wished him to suffer. He was a human, and that had been enough.

  “Silas Atégo,” she said quietly, her rich voice lyrical and flowing. “We meet formally at last.”