Gregor took another two steps forward and pinched me by the ear. “You can hear right? What strange sort of illness is causing you to hurt yourself like this Sunshine?”
I whimpered slightly and struggled to retain control of my tongue.
“I don’t know,” I lied, knowing perfectly well what was causing all of this.
“Me neither!” Gregor said, looking truly mystified. “However I think that this condition appears to be directly linked to stupidity. Don’t you think?” he asked, locking eyes with me and grinning maliciously.
I nodded quickly and much to my relief, felt the pressure of his kinetic anti-magic ease off of me. I fell to my knees and wretched as Gregor calmly turned away from me and continued to stride. Reluctantly forcing myself up, I clambered into a brisk walk, taking special care not to say anything else.
As I continued to keep pace with Gregor, my legs seared with the irritating desire to stop working. I hated how weak I was compared to the person in front of me. I found myself stumbling over my own two feet while my counterpart practically tore the hills apart with his forceful strides. I noticed in my exhausted state the strange way in which the weariness overcame me in stages. The exhaustion began as a numbness in the heel of the boots, before spreading upward to the ankle as if I was slowly sinking into a bath of ice.
I tried to focus on a breathing pattern, however within minutes I had to obliterate it in an attempt to keep up with the trainee effortlessly jogging through the terrain. As I Inhaled with no steady pace, I found that the only thing that kept me from stopping was the thought of Gregor intervening with more anti-magic. We suddenly ceased our advance, however before anyone had time to stop me, I had fallen to the forest floor to rest. Gregor said nothing and instead took a handful of frost speckled soil before turning it over in his hands and smelling deeply. “We're getting close,” he said excitedly.
“He can’t possibly know that,” I whispered skeptically to Umber. “Honestly, just look at him.” I glanced up once more and silently watched Gregor plucking a piece of bark from a nearby tree and nodding in deep concentration. I snorted slightly and frowned in dismay. “Who does he think he is?”
Somehow satisfied with his observation, Gregor jutted his chin forward and began to walk in a completely different direction while I followed uncertainly. The lack of clean water didn't seem to bother Gregor, who had repeatedly stated it was only another couple of minutes before we found fresh snow. Hours passed and just as it seemed a drink was impossible, it began to snow. Gregor loudly applauded his own efforts and started to set up camp. Unfortunately for us, the snow did not not stop. Billions of tiny particles fell from the sky in flurries, stacking on top of each other quicker than any other storm I had ever seen. It was apparent we had a problem when the snowfall ended up totaling an eighth of our height in a little less than one hour.
Gregor’s eyes suddenly widened as he realized what was happening. He frantically disassembled the tent and threw it into his pack before literally sprinting off into the distance. “Hurry up!” he screamed over the whirl of the wind. “We maybe have another hour or two to find shelter, else we’re going to be stuck in this blizzard!”
I wearily stumbled forward, too tired to care about the consequences of our actions and too cold to feel any sort of sympathy for my leader. Hunger restricted my movements, yet the only thing that Gregor would allow me to eat was the severity of the moment. My muzzle had turned to rock and was completely numb except for my viciously purple plum nose which stung like an insect bite for every time I tried to move it.
Realizing I may have been contracting frostbite, I tore a strip off of my bushy fur coat and tied it loosely around my neck and nose. Normally, my face would have been engulfed in warmth within seconds, however every breath I expelled was just as icy as the snow falling before us. Gregor stopped and looked off into the distance, before yelling in triumph. I looked ahead, and much to my amazement found that the trees has suddenly thinned out. After a few more steps it appeared that we had stepped out of the Charlie-horse wood.
“That can’t be possible.” I said limply. “We were ages off from the southern exit.” At the sound of my voice, Umber weakly flickered into view like a dying candle. Like me, he looked sleepy eyed and in need of a great nap. “It should have been at least another day before we left these woods,” I said, looking up to him for confirmation.
“Do you see anything to say that we’re still in the forest?” Umber asked at half his normal volume.
My unfocused eyes fastened on the horizon and I frowned slightly at the sight of more forest. “Why, we’re surrounded by a ring of trees,” I stated after a few moments of silence. The diameter of the area however was gargantuan. It must have stretched on for two more miles at least. “This clearing must be manmade--look:” I brought my attention down to the ground and pointed limply. Hundreds of tree stumps poked out through the thick snow which were so completely submerged, it was as if they were meant to be stepping stones on a path.
Gregor suddenly wailed in dismay. I could only assume that he had come to the same conclusion as I had. Just as he was about to retreat back into the Charlie-horse woods, I stopped him. In the distance, the faint outline of a small hut waved uncertainly through the falling snow. Gregor turned at the sound of my voice and squinted at the shape for a full minute in solid disbelief. He blinked twice and began to charge at it like a rampaging bull. As the two of us hustled forward, a feeling of perfect euphoria passed over me. The shack wasn’t an illusion, but did in all honesty look like it was falling apart. Despite that, it was still a shelter and that’s all that was important.
The both of us launched ourselves at the doorway which was nearly a quarter of the way buried under thick snow. We charged at it while clawing and screaming, drunk with the lust for survival. After five consecutive tackles, the hinges on the doors snapped allowing us passage into the dark warm hut. We had hardly taken our first step inside when I heard a head a loud thump from my right. I glanced over and watched in shock as Gregor fell to the floor, completely comatose. Thick fingers wrapped around the small of my neck before something threw me into a nearby wall. The sudden light that emitted from an oil lamp signed the back of my eyes and prevented me from properly seeing the face of my captor.
“What are you doing here?” He roared, rattling my chest for good measure.
“What am I doing here?” I repeated, hopeful that was all he wanted to know.
The captor exhaled in irritation. “I know what I said, though I don't know why I bothered to ask. You're a thief.”
“I'm not a thief I swear!” I tried to look my captor in the eyes but the lamp swinging by his head was just too bright.
“What are you then?” the man growled.
“I'm... I'm a traitor!” I exclaimed quickly. “No... that’s not right I meant... Trader! Yes that’s it, I'm a trader!”
My captor made a noise as if he was grimacing. “You don't look like a trader. What's with the weaponry?”
“Oh this?” I said while stuttering slightly. “Well, why not? Do you expect me to walk through these woods without protection?”
The man considered this in silence. “Fair point. Are you saying you broke in here because you don’t have the proper tools to survive?”
I bit my upper lip and nodded quickly.
“Can I ask why you weren’t prepared for weather like this?” he continued angrily “Surely you must see it quite a bit in your profession.”
I stayed silent, not trusting myself to keep this fib up for much longer.
“Trade with me,” he said, hurling my bag on the floor and spilling all of its contents.
I quickly tried to make myself as professional looking as possible despite not having anything all that valuable. Useless item after useless item I showed, bitterly wishing that something in the pile of garbage would catch his eye. Getting desperate, I reached into my sack and withdrew the small box full of spells. I quickly showed each one to him before r
eading out the instructions as if I knew exactly what I was talking about. After the fourth spell however, he stopped me.
“What’s that?” he asked, motioning to the shield repair powder.
“Ah!” I exclaimed excitedly, “Well you see, this is the all purpose shield repair powder and-”
Ignoring me completely, the captor’s nimble fingers snaked past me and withdrew the smallest one from the box.
“Professor Pocket's untested, unrefined Miracle powder”
I flinched slightly, unsure how to proceed
“You don't seem to know what this is,” the man said, snatching it away from the lamplight.
My silence seemed to be a good enough answer for him.
“How such a young trader came by this is a mystery to me. This single spell alone is worth a small fortune.”
“How do you know what it does if it doesn't have any instructions?” I asked loudly.
“There are directions,” the man explained in a gentle voice. “It says use sparingly.”
My face flushed hot with irritation. The last thing I wanted to do was play vague riddles with a complete stranger.
He ignored my anger and continued. “A miracle, as I understand, is when someone satisfies their greatest desire. It could be to earn riches, to survive sickness, overcome death.” The man paused to consider everything he had just said. “To find love.”
Any fear I had before, suddenly evaporated as that word pierced through my head. For the first time, the man approached the light and I could see the features on his face clearly. He had a small dart like beard on his chin which wobbled slightly as his wooden jaw moved up and down. The man’s dreadlocks were the only things that were darker than his skin. For a moment it looked like he was wearing shawl made of shadow.
“This powder,” he said, holding up the same packet of powder “-Will help you to achieve your miracle, whatever that may be.”
“How do you know about all this?” I asked urgently. “How do you know about these miracles? How do you know about love? Tell me!” I demanded suddenly.
The captor's face grew stern and a storm began to brew in his deep eyes. “Please.” I added after a long silence.
“I was only eighteen when I met her.” The lamplight dried out in the following pause, swallowing the room in darkness. Weirdly enough the man didn't bother to change the oil. He just kept talking, letting my imagination take command.
“I lived in a clan of my own people. It was a modest life but we worked enough to keep ourselves alive,” The man seemed to smile, however I couldn’t tell for sure in the darkness of the room. “It was an open place, divided by a single river where people could farm and fish and gather. I was a lumberjack,” the man added with a certain degree of pride. “And then there was her,” the captor admitted quietly. “Her name was Rimu.”
“It’s a pretty name,” I said before I could help myself.
“It suited her,” the man said quietly. “She was tall and fast, easily the quickest person I ever met. She was all over the place, you know? Never got held back by anybody. Her favourite thing was adventures.”
“Adventures? Really?” I asked skeptically.
“What’s wrong with that?” the man said defensively.
“Nothing, I just... Didn’t think that women were meant for athletics,” I admitted quietly. “I always thought that their bodies were just too soft or something.”
The man raised a single eyebrow, obviously not impressed with my opinion. “Well, if you’d met her, you’d change your mind in a minute. That’s just how she was. Anyways, Rimu’s father was a very quiet and reserved man. He worked as a baker and didn’t know much about adventures other than the danger involved. He wanted his beautiful daughter to apprentice in baking and carry on the family business, rather than risk her life wandering.” The man gave a spluttering cough before quickly wiping his mouth on his sleeve and blinking quickly.
“They apparently fought a lot, but I never saw much of it. One day I asked her if she’d like to help me with my lumberjacking work.” The captor grinned and his white teeth almost seemed to glow in the darkness. “That seemed to do the trick for a while. Without her father knowing, I’d let Rimu help me out from time to time. One cold spring, she began to grow quiet again. Her charm faltered. She had just gone through the worst fight yet. Rimu loved her father with all her heart, yet she felt that she couldn't stay any longer. She ran to my hut one rainy morning and asked me to feign her death so that she could escape and live the life she had always wanted to.”
I gasped and hunched forward slightly. “But why fake her own death? Didn’t that seem quite extreme to you?”
The man bobbed his head both ways in thought. “Rimu’s intention was to have no one look for her when she left. I admit, it was rash decision however for her it had become the only option.”
“You didn’t do it though... did you?”
“I had to,” he said simply. “I agreed to her conditions because I loved her.” The man coughed and awkwardly looked down at his hands. “I remember we just stood there for the longest time, not really doing anything. She was talking too fast like she normally did. I can barely remember what she said, though I’ve got the gist of it. I remember saying yes and then-”
As the captor abruptly ended his last sentence, I suddenly wished that there was a light.
“I watched her as she crawled out of the forest and into the sun. Just as she was leaving, she took off the only necklace she’d ever had and threw it. She got it as a sixteenth birthday present from her father and I’m pretty sure she wore it every day” The sound of general clutter followed the next silence, as the captor began to search for something among his hut walls. With a small bit of flint, he relight the oil lamp, and let me examine a perfectly formed silver sphere, with a chain running through its center. Every bit of the sphere’s surface area was engraved with text.
I realized that it was just one name repeated again and again. “Rimu.”
The pendant swiveled on its chain as if it were a ball bearing. No matter how still my captor held the necklace, the sphere in the center always seemed to move. The man smiled at my fascination and let me examine it for another couple minutes in silence. “When Rimu threw the pendant to the ground, It didn’t take me long to realize what she was doing. She was casting her name aside along with everything else so that she could start again as someone different.”
“Did you do as she asked?” I asked fervently. “Did you tell everyone she died?”
“There was a funeral and everything,” the man responded softly. “I made it look like a hunting accident. Had I told everyone it was a suicide, it would have ruined her father completely.” The man's breathing became more shallow, and his speech became more forced. “I caught some wild game, and burned it so completely that only ashes remained. When I returned, I managed to convinced everyone I found her body and that I took the liberty of burning her beforehand.”
“Weren't they upset that you burned her without permission?” I asked skeptically.
“No, actually the opposite. In my clan it’s considered unethical to lament a corpse. We feel like one should be happy with just memories. Seeing a shell of a person will give you nothing more than heartache.” The man sighed slightly and tilted his head. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” I admitted shyly. The man nodded as if he understood my confusion. “We took the ashes and scattered them in the river. And you want to know something? Even though I knew it was a game, I cried as if it was real. To me, Rimu had really died.”
“You did look for her didn't you?” I asked desperately. “You couldn’t have given up after all of that surely?”
The man wiped his face and sniffed hard. “For a while it felt like I’d given up all hope. But one day something changed.” He pointed to the powder in his right hand like it large cut gem. “It was a miracle itself that I managed to find this. A group of bards were passing through our woods, wearing... well... I
t’s hard to describe.” The man’s chest bobbed up and down as he chuckled to himself. “Trust me, they looked ridiculous. Anyways, they were walking through our worksite. A few people noticed them and tried to warn them off but they were singing too loud to hear.”
I stifled a laugh. It seemed very stupid of them to be loudly belting tunes in the middle of a forest.
“Well, unfortunately for the bards, my partner had sawn too much off of his tree and it began to fall right where they were.” The man shook his head as if he himself couldn't believe what he was saying. “Realizing that these complete strangers were in danger, I ran up to the falling tree, and caught it.”
“Wait, just wait,” I said while holding both of my arms up. “You stopped a falling tree!?” I exclaimed in awe. The man rubbed his neck modestly and nodded slowly.
“The impact of the fall dislocated a shoulder, broke my one my arms, a wrist and three fingers. I was only able to hold the tree trunk long enough to cast it off to one side, however it was just enough to save their lives. Immediately after, I was taken to the medical tent to get my arms treated and for the next month, the bards faithfully stood by my side as I recovered. Lively bunch of people they were,” the captor commented lightly. “They sung far too much though. Picture waking up every morning to a loud quartet of men who would sing about your arms for a good two hours.”
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 39