by Edison G. S.
“I know,” she said. “I would never ask you to do so, but I think you need to observe the facts from the outside.”
He looked down as if trying to think of a counterargument.
“I want to sleep, my love,” she said grabbing his hand and kissing it before turning away to sleep. Andreas remained there for few seconds trying to comprehend what she just suggested. After a minute, he stood up and left the room in silence, still considering.
* * *
It took him one day to decide—the boys would die if they stood in the Frozen Land. They were grown enough to understand his decision. He followed Marie’s advice and two weeks later sent the boys to their aunt’s home. Their aunt, Lacey, received a letter one week prior to the trip and quickly answered. She said she would be fortunate to have the boys with her. She never met them, but they were her sister’s children so it would be a blessing to have them with her. Lacey had raised two children—an adoptive son and one of her own whom still lived with her. Both were a bit older than Rolando and she replied they would easily get along.
They will be fine, Andreas told himself that morning.
“I hope your baby is never born,” Rolando, staring coldly at Marie, had said before he and his brother stepped foot on the ship. With tears in his eyes, he looked at his father with deep disappointment, turned, and strode away.
Andreas could not believe what he said, but could he blame him? Rolando took it personal; as if he was sent away for Marie and they had hid the truth with the fabrication of safety.
The day they departed, Marie stood next to Andreas watching the ship breaking the ice planks atop the water. Even though she stood next to him, Andreas did not know any longer if she was there to support him or to make sure the boys left. She did not utter a word; what else did she need to say? Victory was hers.
“I will have a boy,” she finally said when they were alone, her eyes fixated on the ship as it grew smaller in the distance.
“I know,” he said coldly. For a minute he wanted to scream at her, to scold her lack of maturity. He was certain she wanted the boys gone, but he made the ultimate decision. She had no part in that.
They took the wagon and went back to the town. Inside the covered wagon, they were safe from the cold, unmerciful winds. He stared at her and remembered Anthony. They had been raised under the same roof and Andreas began questioning the kind of childhood they had. They both learned to be selfish and jealous as much as insecure. It was true they both had positive traits, and he loved them for those things, but he could not be sure if he could still love them due to all of the unfavorable attributes that seemed to command their lives.
“I want to choose a name for him,” she said after few minutes of silence. The entire time she had been daydreaming about her first son, an understandable thing for a new mother, though inappropriate for the situation.
He nodded with melancholic eyes, but she seemed not to notice it. If she did, she did not mention it. “I think I hear a wolf,” Andreas commented, attempting to change the topic. Hopefully, she would stop talking as wolves frightened her.
“It must be the wind,” she said, gathering her arms around herself. “There are no more wolves any longer. They have all been eaten,” she reassured herself, but did not seem so secure.
He ignored her comment. In truth, there were still a few wolves, but they had been isolated for a while. Nobody knew what they ate, hopefully demons, though they most likely died of famine.
“What about Andrew? It sounds similar to your name,” she said.
“Sounds good,” he agreed with a faint smile. His eyes drifted away from the wagon, the open end still facing the ocean though the snowflakes blurred it. He imagined all the risks the boys were about to face on the sea, but it was better than the constant risk of demon attacks on the Frozen Land. When they reached Lera, the weather would be unlike anything they have experienced in their homeland. They would enjoy playing outside without fear, the sun beating down on their faces as if their mother were sending the rays to look after them from wherever she was. They would be happy there. He smiled, but was not sure if he was lying to himself for relief of his guilt.
As soon as the baby was born and the demons were gone, he would go get his boys back. He found himself thinking about Darcellene. The boys had been a constant reminder of her. Maybe with a few months of distance, he would finally get over the pain that caused his wife’s kidnapping.
“They will be fine,” Marie assured him as she realized his thoughts were on the boys’ safety.
He wanted to scream at her to keep her trap quiet. How fake can she be to act like she cares about the boys? But he just nodded and forced himself to smile. “Yes…I…I am sure Lacey will take good care of them.”
When they were back in the house, the silence filled the rooms. Jeremiah, as always, was in his room enjoying the silence and solitude. Suddenly Andreas had a terrible thought—did she fake it? The night she fell on the wooden floor, Rolando had dared to suggest she might have a girl, and that was enough to alter her so much. This time he wished death to her baby, his own brother. But she did not seem offended or upset by his malicious wishes. She just stared at him with a defiant look that said I won.
He could not stop his thoughts from expanding. Is she capable of such a hateful thing? She knows how much I loved Darcellene and certainly she feels threatened by the sons of my first wife, but…is there a limit to her jealousy? He pushed the ideas away and observed her womb while she was walking around pouring herself juice. When she felt his eyes on her she gave him the same smile that had made him fall in love with her.
Is that smile real? Is anything real?
Omar
For one entire week, Omar had been taking care of his brother, whom was becoming more ill every day. He had to assume the responsibilities of provider for his little brother since their mother never returned.
“Mother!” exclaimed Neil in his sleep, sweating from fever.
Omar carefully applied a wet rag on his forehead trying to relieve the pain of the only family he seemed to have left. He feared something horrible had happened to Holga, but he could not accept it. His growing powers had started telling him things he did not need to see, but just as his mother, he had ignored them, ignored the feeling of death around him.
“It will be all right,” Omar said softly, but rather than convincing his unconscious brother, he needed to convince himself. His own words felt strange; it was as if he was lying to himself. “It has to be,” he said as trying to reinforce the thought.
Without money, they had been eating pieces of bread; sometimes they had to scare the pigeons away to steal the crumbs. For one week they remained in the same place, sleeping along the walls and hoping to stay safe.
It was dark and Omar was falling asleep already, his eyes lost in the countless stars above. He needed to go to the sea and wet the rag again, but that would be too risky. Instead, he hugged his brother before falling asleep next to him.
The next morning, Neil was feeling better and joined his brother in the search for food in the trash. They had been unlucky, but when they returned to their location, the situation worsened. The owner of the house had been waiting for them with a whip. “Get out of here you mutts,” he screamed moving the whip in every direction, but he did not catch them.
Omar and Neil ran as fast as they could. They would need to find a new place to squat before dark, before the demons came out.
* * *
That night they had to sleep in the open, not knowing if they would ever wake again. They lay on the ground, hiding behind some barrels outside a tavern. Omar knew they needed to move on; their mother was unlikely to return, whether she gave up or if she was killed, they could not stay there waiting forever, especially with Neil’s health declining. Omar was not ready to take hold of the situation and move on with his brother; he was unsure how to lead them. On the other hand, their mother would want them to go to the Forest if she never returned.
&n
bsp; “I hate you!” he exclaimed, holding back his tears. His thoughts converged on the idea that their mother had left and was happy somewhere else. Yet he did not believe that; he wanted to because he wanted his mother to be happy, away from that hell. The truth was he understood something terrible happened to his mother and she was probably dead. The thought gave him an atypical relief; her pain would be over, but at the same time he hated her for not being there. He could not admit he wished he were with her, dead or alive. If he could not be with her, he needed to resent her or else he would not have anything left to hold on to reality. The wave of mixed feelings kept washing him over, but he focused on the present situation.
Now, more than ever, he needed to protect Neil. Tears started sliding down one-by-one until they were pouring like rain. His pain was unbearable. He knew he had to do something; this was the moment for him to hastily mature and accept responsibility for his defenseless brother. There was just one thing he needed to do first—wait for a signal from Acacious. And the signal came.
“Ready for the damned Forest?” a drunken sailor slurred while leaving the tavern. He did not notice the scared boy.
“Not a bit,” another drunken man garbled. The two of them started walking toward the sea. “We should take some whores with us. The Forest does not have such good…service,” they guffawed loudly and Omar caught the stench of their hideous breath.
He saw a ship at the coast about twenty feet away and knew they had to get on it somehow. That ship would take them to the Forest and the sailors were too drunk to realize they were being followed.
Omar wiped the tears from his face and forced his eyes to fight back the urge to release the pain, frustration, and desperation he felt. He grabbed a few pieces of the hard bread he found earlier and took them with him. He tried to wake Neil up, but his fever had returned and made him too weak to walk. Omar lifted his younger brother up and carried him towards the boat.
With Neil in his arms, he ran around the shore trying to find a way onto the boat. There were a couple of men working late boarding big boxes of chickens. He knew it was the chance they were looking for. He looked down at his brother, the sweat accumulating on his body from the fever, and Omar knew it was now or never.
It was dark and the loaders could barely see anything on the land. Omar took advantage of this fact to try to get his brother and he inside a wooden box . Carefully, he removed the lid and looked inside. It was filled with chickens, and they would barely fit in there; the birds baulked for a few minutes when Omar dropped Neil inside the box, alerting the sailors who looked around for what was bothering the animals. But it was too dark to see anything, and they soon ignored the noise.
Next, Omar jumped into the box and closed the lid as it was before. Inside, excrement filled the base of the box. Omar worked hard to keep from vomiting and then realized his brother was face-down in the droppings. Carefully, he turned him and cleaned his face. The fever was worsening and he feared for his brother’s life, but he was powerless. Only faith could take them to the Forest land.
They kept silent for a good hour. The chickens were already asleep when the box started moving. He looked through one of the small holes on the side; the box was being hoisted to the top of the ship. The men were entertaining one another by making obscene jokes. There were about twenty men that loaded the boxes and put another row of boxes on top without bothering to check inside. Omar understood they were lucky; had they been found, they would probably be thrown overboard, or worse.
It took a couple of hours, but the men finished their task and left. The ship started moving and their journey had finally started. He started twisting his short dark hair while directing his gaze around the box. What will happen? The concern and anxiety began to consume him. Eventually the men would open the box.
Where would they be when that happened? Who would find them? He pulled his brother into his arms and laid in silence. The warm, small body of his brother reminded him he was not alone. He had to start thinking of a way to avoid trouble—but how?
Tara
The waters and winds were cold, but she could feel a drop of sweat sliding down her nape. The rag on her head became an annoyance, but if she removed it, somebody might recognize her.
The ship had been on the water for about a week, although she was not even sure anymore. She avoided looking outside as much as possible. She had grown up without a view of much of the world, but she felt she had already seen enough water for a lifetime. Many times, the apprehensive women met to pray to the Coral god whereas the ones unafraid of water just walked around disregarding their god. Tara had quickly understood it was human nature to idolize the gods when there was a need.
For a minute she wished she shared their faith. The women seemed much happier and relieved after they prayed. She had not worshipped a religion since being placed in the king’s custody and the one she used to worship in the Desert was long forgotten, along with her childhood happiness.
Faith, she thought and tried to remember what it felt like. Faith was the confidence of an invisible force that cared about you. The women were a demonstration of that, but what could she have faith in? Besides Commander Winterton and Thomas, the world had turned against her. The world had decided she had to pay for her father’s decisions.
There is no such thing as an invisible force, she thought.
“Is the food ready?” a man shouted from behind. She was deeply entertained by the women praying she forgot where she was. She quickly returned her attention back to work, mixing spices to make the food taste decent. She hated cooking in the castle; every day they scolded her for the unsavory food she prepared, and the king sent her to the dungeon. At least on the ship they seemed to enjoy her cooking. She knew they were not happy with the food from the other women, so she had more confidence in her cooking. Nonetheless, she felt terrible for the women humiliated when the food was complained about.
She turned to her right and witnessed two men fighting. A table broke when one of them threw the other on top of it before cutting his throat with a knife. Some soldiers were a team and worked together; others were merely animals. She felt death could come at any minute, but it was better than being at the castle. Scared, she kept mixing spices.
Her perfectly shaped face had attracted many “suitors,” but they only wanted her for the night. Some of the nicer women taught her how to act in order to keep the men away.
“Did you hear me whore?” the man standing behind her screamed.
She did not realize he was speaking to her until she felt his presence behind her. “It is almost ready,” she stated, keeping her head down.
“Look at me when you talk to me,” he demanded grabbing her by the waist and turning her violently toward him. He was a large man and his hands squeezed her too hard. She tried to say something, but her voice was a trembling whisper. He pressed her shoulders until she released a soft whimper. She felt nauseous as his grasp softened and his violence turned into something else. He approached her and started squeezing her shoulders again, but this time his hands slipped down toward her breasts. For too many years, she had learned that the less she talked, the faster the pain would be over, which was why she stayed quiet holding back her tears.
“All right, already,” someone said behind the man. Just then she realized a group of tables were behind them and other men had observed the fondling.
“And who are you?” the bigger man asked, releasing her shoulders and pushing her toward the pot of food. She slipped down to the floor and the pot fell within a few feet of her, the soup splashing about her feet causing slight burns. All the hungry men cursed and started shouting in anger.
“My name is Samuel. I do not believe we have met,” the shorter man said with a cynic grin while extending his hand.
“Do you think you can mess with me? I will throw you in the water to be devoured by the marine beasts,” her violator announced.
Samuel smiled and Tara noticed a small beard on his chin; his chestnut f
acial hair matched his large, round umber brown eyes accentuated by his clear skin, somehow like hers.
She found herself fearing for the young man that was trying to protect her. The room felt especially cold this time and she gathered her arms around herself.
“I just think you should leave those weaker than you alone.”
“Don’t tell me what to do if I did not ask for your opinion, you shit!” The taller man’s temper was escalating to a argumentative level. He then directed a punch to Samuel’s stomach causing him to turn red in the face and buckle-over in pain. The tall man roared and laughed loudly, accompanied by many of the other men in the kitchen area.
His violence continued on by shoving Samuel to the ground. However, just as he was about to kick the fallen man in the face, Tara grabbed a hold of his arm. “Please, let him go!” she cried out, fearing for the other man more than she expected. “Let him go,” she insisted while pounding on the man’s back.
With a slight movement, he threw her across the floor. “Stay there wench, I will deal with you in a minute,” the man shouted.
Without thinking twice, Tara grabbed the pot that had cooled down surprisingly fast, and with all her strength she hit the gigantic man on his head. He looked as if he saw the stars in the night sky and then fell to his knees and finally flat on his face on the ground.
He was unconscious and Tara had won. She observed her own hands were trembling in shock. Was that me? Warm tears started pouring from her eyes. “I can do it,” she said hysterically. Samuel began lifting himself back up to his feet, but his breathing was fast and labored.
She kept her eyes on her hands; where did that strength come from? She wondered how things would be if she had been brave enough to confront and kill the king. For the first time she witnessed her own strength and now all the memories came back to chase her and to demand to know why she did not defend herself before. Her life could have been wonderful if she only dared to act, but she had not and she would never know the impact she could have had on her own life.