Blindsighted Wanderer

by E. Hibbs

  Raphael watched in his periphery. Silas seemed to recognise the voice instantly; he yelped in horror and leapt backwards, shoulders crashing into the stony wall. His eyes snapped open involuntarily,

  “You!” he cried. “Nay! Raph, we must get away!”

  He snatched out at Raphael, but his brother ignored him and moved forward slightly. Raphael could almost feel his own anger, like a pulsating heat. His heart beat so powerfully that he felt sick.

  “Raph!” Silas hissed desperately.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Raphael demanded. “You did this to him, is this true? Am I correct in my thinking? By God, answer me!”

  He felt blood rushing to his face, eyes blazing. Merrin lowered her head, and there was a long moment of horrible silence, in which none of them moved an inch. The whole of Delamere fell into deafening quiet, as though every tree and creature had ceased their business to listen in.

  Eventually, Merrin spoke. “I did.”

  Silas whimpered, unable to hold it back.

  “Why?” Irima suddenly snapped. Her voice trembled with terror, but the strength in it was incredible. “He told me why he came! He came peacefully, so’s he could speak with yer about helpin’ his family!”

  “You took his sight when he came to you for help?” Raphael snarled furiously. “How could you? Are you incapable of forgiveness? Are you truly a demon?”

  “Raph,” Silas whispered madly, “what dost thou mean? Of course it is a demon! Don’t aggravate it!”

  “Hush!” Raphael hissed, as Merrin turned her attention to Silas. Almost as though physically feeling her penetrating stare, he shrank piteously back into the shadows.

  “He took me from the Lake,” she said, her voice silky, but heavy with guilt. The power of her words had all but disappeared, and now seemed like an empty shell, hollowed out by the realisation of her own wrongs.

  “And when I looked at him,” she carried on, “I saw my own demon. I was blind in my hatred. I acted rashly, and I am so terribly sorry.”

  “By Lady above, indeed yer acted rashly!” snapped Irima. “How could yer do such a thing without just cause, eh?”

  Raphael raised a hand and glanced around at her. She immediately silenced, and Silas stood as still as he could, clutching her arm. The unpleasant silence returned, and hung over all of them like a heavy black cloud.

  Raphael turned back to Merrin. He could feel the fire dulling down slightly at her words, but fury still simmered beneath the surface. Merrin looked at him imploringly, as though placing all of her faith in him. He was the only one who knew of her past, and she was clutching at it; hoping that he would lead the way for Silas and Irima to believe, and dare to trust her.

  “I know I did wrong,” she said. “There are no words for how sorry I am, believe me. To think of what I have done to an innocent is like a blade in my heart.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She made no move to hold them back, and they fell to the amarants like rain.

  “Raphael...” The sobs choked her so much that her voice dwindled to a whisper. “Raphael, of all the conviction you have placed in me these past nights, I beg of you, grant me one final shred of trust, if you never do so again.”

  Raphael said nothing, lips pressed into a tight line. The natural smile that was forever present had shrunk down until barely visible. The expression, the way he held himself – it felt terribly unnatural.

  He looked back to Silas and Irima. They were huddling close together, he with his blind eyes closed, and she holding his left hand. Raphael noticed the shining mark on his palm; his brother’s fear like a gas in the air.

  “You can lift it?” Raphael asked, not looking at Merrin.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And will you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen to it not!” Silas cried. “Raph, I can live with this! Let us just be gone from this place! Please!”

  “I am not going to let you be blind and wretched for the rest of your days!” Raphael snapped.

  “It only comes upon me in the sunlight! By night, I am fine!” Silas insisted.

  “Hear me,” Merrin said. “Silas, please listen to me. Your brother is correct. As he cannot let you live like this, neither can I. I have wronged you terribly. Please allow me to make amends. If you can forgive me, and trust me for one moment, then I shall forgive you with all of my heart.”

  Silas hesitated. “How do I know this is no dark trick?” he growled. “How can I know I can trust you?”

  “Because I trust her,” Raphael said gently. “Merrin, must this also wait until nightfall?”

  The sound of Merrin’s fin flickered though the air. “If it were any other bearing the Brand, then I would wait,” she said. “But my guilt is much too close and too deep. He has suffered unfairly for longer than he ever should. It is only right that I relieve him of this punishment now.”

  “But... the daylight – are you powerful enough?”

  “You forget that I am the student of a Necromancer, Raphael. This is not demanding magic.”

  Merrin sighed, and then spoke to Silas.

  “You have a right to know why I did this to you,” she told him. “I am a Princess; the future Queen of my people – and I was hurt by one of your forefathers many decades past. When you took me from the Lake against my will, it was as though history was repeating itself in my mind. And so, blinded by my hate, I took from you what I also took from him. But it was unfounded and terribly wrong of me. I see that now, and all I need is your forgiveness.”

  She paused for a moment, and then said, “Silas, come here to me.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I shall not harm you,” she assured him.

  “Nay,” he breathed; his white eyes full of fear. Raphael took his shoulder gently.

  “It’s fine, Si,” he whispered in his ear. “Trust me.”

  Silas hesitated uncertainly, but then swallowed and gave a single nod. He uncurled his fingers from the root, and Raphael slowly guided him towards Merrin until the two of them stood within arm’s length. Irima hung back, watching intently, and clutching her crucifix.

  Merrin placed the rose down. A breeze swirled inside the cave and lifted her hair as she approached. Raphael caught her eye and shot her a warning look, but she returned it with a sure smile before turning to Silas. Silas stood woodenly, staring into nothingness and eyes flitting back and forth, aware of how close he was to her. His hands were in tight fists at his sides, and trembling with the effort.

  Merrin gazed at him. “Have you learned your lesson?”

  “Aye, I have!” Silas whispered.

  She reached out. “Then give me your hand.”

  Silas did as he was commanded. He moved slowly, and Raphael imagined that raising his arm up through the darkness must have felt like stretching out into the emptiness at the end of the world. However, Silas stood firm, waiting with all the restraint he had always carried.

  Merrin laid her hand over his. He hissed as she touched his palm, but then calmed. Raphael’s eyes moved to Merrin’s long fingers as they curled around his brother’s wrist, coating his skin with her thick webby membranes. She placed two fingers from her other hand on the skin just below his eyes. Silas jumped, but Merrin waited until he was calm before letting out a long, deep sigh.

  The sound that came from her lips was like the rushing pulse of the waves on the shore. It held the immense depth and uncountable age of the great Lake; the flicker of a shoal of chaff darting through green waters. It flew through Raphael as though he wasn’t there, and engulfed him. It felt as though he and Irima, and the whole world, was melting away to leave only Merrin and Silas.

  He heard a sudden shimmering, and then the cave filled with a fine white light, pouring up from Merrin and falling down from the rocky roof. It settled like snow on the ground, feathery wisps littering Raphael’s hair and catching on his eyelashes. He distantly saw Merrin drop her fingers from Silas’ face and trap his hand in both of hers. Silas shu
ddered under the immense power, and dropped to his knees

  It was like nothing Raphael had ever known could exist outside of Heaven. If it was possible to feel light, then it filled his mind; taking the place of all sounds, smells and touches. All that existed now were Silas, Merrin, and the shining brilliance. He gasped as the light pulsed and swelled, surrounding Silas like a great bubble. His hair lifted as though he was underwater.

  And then, it vanished in a flash. Silas cried out, his hand slipping from Merrin’s. He hunched over on the ground; then collapsed. Raphael went to run forward to him, but sensed that he shouldn’t; that Silas wasn’t hurt. Merrin was almost hovering above the ground, eyes shining behind her closed lids. The light flickered across her flesh so fast that the green colour disappeared in the blaze.

  For a long moment that seemed to hang outside of time, all Raphael could hear was Silas gulping air greedily, as though he had just run for miles. His brother covered his face, burying it into his palms. Then his eyes opened in surprise, mouth falling open as he moved his hands away. He stared at them, turning them over to see the backs. He experimented: making fists and flexing his fingers.

  An astonished gasp mixed with a laugh escaped from his lips as he looked up. Raphael’s heart swelled. The horrid whiteness had vanished from Silas’ eyes, leaving only the rich brown that he had always known. Silas gaped up at the daylight outside the cave before turning around, as Merrin floated back to earth. Huddling before her, their gazes met, and they saw each other truly for the first time.

  CHAPTER XXX

  Delamere’s Final Day

  R aphael and Silas walked side by side through Delamere as the sky melted into the pastel throws of afternoon. For the most part since leaving the cave, they had barely spoken. Silas was too engrossed looking at everything and anything. Raphael let him be silent; it was wonderful to be back in the company of his quiet brother. He had, however, noticed how Silas was much less brooding, and how the harsh lines on his brow were shallower. But more than anything, he was aware of how his eyes shone.

  A red admiral butterfly flew in front of their faces, and Silas’ attention immediately snapped onto it. He watched its movements intently, his once-reserved face opening in wonder. He reached up a hand towards it, then tripped over a tree root and stumbled crazily.

  Raphael laughed. “You clumsy fool!”

  Silas looked back and glared at him, but warmly.

  “Are you alright?” Raphael asked.

  “Aye, I’m fine,” replied Silas, lip curling into a small grin.

  They chuckled, and Raphael put an arm around Silas’ shoulder, squeezing it gently. As soon as they had begun walking, Silas had pulled off the farmer’s garb from under his Traveller clothes and tossed them to Raphael, so that he could get out of his own soaking garments. Initially, the brown tunic and hose had been outrageously small for Raphael, but Valley clothes were made well, and with the intention of lasting the wearer for several years. All Silas had to do was pull out his knife and cut the threads around the wrists and ankles, to lower the hems.

  “I trust that it feels wonderful to have your eyes back?” Raphael smiled.

  Silas sighed deeply through his nose. “More than I can say.”

  Raphael glanced at him, running his tongue across his lips. “You must not hate Merrin for what she did,” he said. “It was no grudge against you.”

  Silas didn’t reply, but his jaw twitched slightly, and he gave a tiny nod in answer. Then he saw something and moved away. Raphael watched as he carefully jumped down a small slope, and his boots crunched as he landed on the charcoal shingle of the little beach. Hanging willow branches stroked at him as he approached the line of small boats. Silas laid a hand on the prow of the nearest one, gazing out across the Lake.

  “It’s different to how I remember,” he said quietly. “So different.”

  Raphael looked up too, and the great expanse shone a beautiful blue in the golden sunlight. The brown heads of the reeds nodded softly in the shallows. The reflection of the Western Ridge stood out in bold stony lines, distorted at the edges by the waves.

  He glanced between the landscape and his brother, moving his eyes along the groove in the pebbles. He imagined Silas grasping one of the vessels, pushing it out onto the water with net in hand.

  The wind softened, and Raphael slowly approached. “Si?”

  “What?”

  A crow cawed from somewhere far off in the trees, followed by the raucous replies of its flock. Raphael came to the other side of the boat and rested his arms gently on the edge of the smooth wood. He met Silas’ eyes.

  “We cannot stay,” he said.

  Silas didn’t look away for a long time, but when he did, he held a hand to his brow and groaned softly. It was his left hand, and although the calluses had gone, his palm still shimmered.

  “I know,” he admitted eventually.

  Raphael scratched the back of his neck. “Merrin told me that you got Ma and the others to safety.”

  “Aye, I did. I sent them up to the Peregrin camp.”

  “The what?”

  “Oh. Irima’s people.”

  Raphael looked at him. “That’s where you have been all this time?” he asked. “Ever since you left here?”

  Silas nodded; his hand still over his face. Then he lowered it and glanced back over the Lake.

  “They will protect them until I return,” he explained. He tore his eyes back to Raphael, and his voice shook. “It was terrible. Father Fortésa and the Elders... they were convinced that Ma was a witch... or Ma and Mekina... or something. I don’t know what they might have done if one of us hadn’t shown our face. The house is destroyed, all of the crop and the livestock... the donkey and chickens are gone, and the cattle shall surely follow. We have nowhere left in Fanchlow.”

  Raphael listened in horrified silence. “I suppose it would have come about in due course,” he muttered. “Our curse... all knew of it. Not even we could have explained it if we wanted. And also, because of our standing... it would make sense for those green-eyed with envy and misgiving to want us gone.”

  He sucked his lips into his mouth anxiously, and rubbed the side of his nose with a muddy finger, leaving a brown smear across his cheek.

  “We could go to the south,” he suggested. “Whilst I was searching for thee, I became acquainted with two of our long lost kinfolk in Ullswick.”

  “Nay,” Silas said immediately, and glanced at him.

  His brother’s eyes were heavy with knowledge, and it passed to Raphael in an instant. Hidden by clothes and flesh, his heart sank in his chest. Even if they fled to the other end of the Valley, there would always be sneering faces waiting for them.

  He thought of Abraham and Nalina, concealing themselves from their neighbours; bolting the doors at night and viewing everybody with wariness. It was difficult enough for them already. And as large as the inn was, six distant relatives showing up on their doorstep would not only draw suspicion, but put them out of business for lack of space.

  Silas heaved a deep sigh. “Now the Fayre is over and I am back to health, the Peregrin will be preparing to leave very soon, before the weather begins to turn,” he said.

  Raphael frowned. “Dost thou think they will allow us to follow?”

  Silas shrugged, and replied, “I do hope so.”

  The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the shadows blanketed the ground.

  *

  “Tell me your name,” Merrin said.

  Irima swallowed, keeping her grey eyes on Merrin. “Pearl Spring.”

  Merrin frowned, not having heard such a name from humans, but she quickly restrained it. Irima hugged her knees to her chest, holding a level gaze that hung heavy with a mixture of mistrust and wonder.

  “Are yer what they call the demons?” she asked. “Yer kind, I mean.”

  Merrin sighed. “The humans on the other side of the Wall seem to know us as such, but we are not.”

  “Then what are yer? Some kind o’ f
aerie nymph?”

  “Of a kind, yes. We are Asræ.”

  Irima cocked her head. “Yer look as old as Raphael,” she said. “But yer not, are yer?”

  “What makes you say such things?”

  “Yer eyes. They’re too deep to be a’lyin’ in someone so young. How long have yer lived?”

  “Long enough to eclipse you, many times over,” Merrin replied. “You hold a position of power.”

  Irima started nervously. “How do yer know that?”

  “I see it in you, as you have seen into me.”

  “How?”

  “Because I hold one myself.”

  “Yeah, yer mentioned before,” Irima said, but the curt edge to her words had softened slightly. Her reservations were anything but masked. “Is yer really a Princess?” she inquired, eyes shining.

  Merrin reached over to the rose. “Until tonight.” She glanced up from studying the white petals. “I do not wish you to leave until then.”

  “Why?”

  “It would be dangerous for the three of you, for a start,” Merrin explained, her voice slow and steady. “I would not wish any of you to come to harm.”

  Irima glared at her accusingly – and Merrin immediately realised why she remained so cold despite seeing her. Silas wore the garments of her people. They had cared for him in the aftermath of his escape from Zandor. And from what Merrin had seen, the two of them were very close indeed.

  Merrin let out a shuddering sigh and motioned towards her with the rose. “You have a sweet heart. I can see that between you and him, there is the spark of what I believed I once had, long ago. But I think – I would hope – that it is true for you.”

  Irima blinked in surprise, but Merrin said no more on the matter, and got to her feet, walking to the shadows at the back of the cave.

  “Where’s yer a’goin’?” Irima asked, alarmed at the movement.

  Merrin smiled at her. “I must rest whilst I can. Tonight shall be extremely demanding for me.”

  Her fin flickered as she settled down on the leafy undergrowth, supporting her head on her arm. She closed her eyes gently. The rose rested in front of her face, its sweet smell on the air. She inhaled it and sighed.