"Morning," Elmiryn said.
I groaned and curled in on myself, hiding my face. "Already?" I whined in a low voice.
The woman warrior sighed and I heard her walk a few steps away, probably to put on her bracers and shoulder guards. "Wake up, Nyx. I won't have you wasting precious daylight, y'know. If I've gotta drag you, I'll drag you."
I stiffened at this declaration and jerked myself upright, my eyes trained on her as she adjusted her gloves.
"Besides," Elmiryn added as she went to pick up her other things, laid neatly out on a blanket. "We need to get out of here before the farmers wake up. They might still feel the need to look around the area with daylight on their side. I don't want to hurt peasants if I don't have to."
She tightened the straps of her shoulder guards and gave them a firm pat to see if they were well secure. Satisfied, she looked back at me and quirked an eyebrow. "Well? Come on. We need to get your things. I imagine you don't want to walk around barefoot all day."
I rubbed at my eyes and stood, somewhat unsteady, and gave my shoulders a roll. The arm I dislocated didn't ache anymore. I picked up the arrowhead I had saved from the night before, which I placed near my head while I slept, and held it between my teeth as I grabbed the blanket Elmiryn had let me use. With a sigh, I folded it awkwardly.
I snuck some looks at my new companion as I did so. She was strapping a belt around her waist, with two blades holstered on it–one a six-inch knife on her right hip, the other a long sword. From what I could tell from the shape of the sheath, the blade wasn't very pointed–that told me it was a sword meant to be swung, not to stab with. It also had a red-jeweled pommel and a gilded cross guard–the crescent moon variety that faced the direction of the blade, of which a phrase was etched in an ancient language. My mind tickled with recognition at the design, and I paused in my actions with a frown.
Elmiryn caught me staring and followed my line of sight. She smirked. "I got it through combat," she said, bending to pick up her own blanket. "I liked the sword, so I took it. The other guy didn't need it anymore." She looked at me again, an edge to her gaze, as if daring me to question further.
I blinked at her, and looked down. She thought I knew where the sword was from. I wanted to ask her, but feared what would happen if I did. I handed her the blanket and she took it, along with hers, and placed it in her satchel. She came up again and turned, tossing me an apple.
Startled, I caught it.
"That'll have to do until we find some food later. Right now, let's go get your things before the village wakes up." she said. Elmiryn shouldered her bow and quiver, grabbed her satchel, and began walking away.
I looked at the apple, then her. I rubbed it on my gambeson–trying not to think about the futility of that action considering the cleanliness of my clothes in general–and bit into it. Juice dribbled down my chin. After a few quick strides I had caught up with the woman and we walked in silence.
Dawn. A creeping warmth on a cold land. I thought about these things when dream and reality hazed together in my head. Light was peeking past the hills and splintered through the leaves in shafts. Mist carried the rosen glow about our shadowed forms as we marched over the damp leaves and tender roots. My breath came in light fogs before my face. The hark of a bluejay made my ears perk. It felt incongruous in this sleepy setting.
I didn't walk quite alongside Elmiryn, but rather, just a little behind. I didn't want her to think I was calling myself her equal. She was a warrior, a strong one, and had clearly experienced enough in life to walk as surely as she did now. But of what class was she? Was she a noble on a quest for enlightenment? Was she a soldier following orders from her king? Was she a simple peasant, a common person, making a name for herself through brave deeds and other such heroic acts in the hopes that she could escape the banality of normal existence?
...Was...Was she like me?
This last thought brought me no comfort. Instead, it made me nervous. The apple in my hand dwindled like my certainty as I gazed at Elmiryn's back. I didn't want to mingle with thieves, murderers, or charlatans. I stole, yes, but only from those who could afford a loss. I only resorted to theft out of necessity, not greed.
I told myself these things often at night.
I scrunched up my nose and frowned down at my apple. I had finished it–even eaten half of the core. I tossed the thing away, thinking firmly, "And what would an evil person be doing saving kittens and fighting demons?"
The answer eluded me.
"Hey, Nyx. As much as I like having you staring at me like the answer to life is hidden in my backside, d'ya think maybe you could lead? You're the only one who knows where your things are."
I gave a start and looked at Elmiryn, who stared back at me with an expectant look. Blushing, I mumbled an apology and went ahead of her.
My back tensed as I felt her gaze on my back. Did she have to stare? ...Oh, well I suppose it was only fair. I peeked a glance at her over my shoulder and our eyes met. Nervously I looked forward again. Elmiryn started to hum. I felt like she were teasing me for my skittishness. The tune was a curious one, and at first I was a little perplexed that someone like her would know it.
It was too innocent and frivolous to come from such a source, I thought with pursed lips. I hadn't even seen the woman draw her sword, and I was certain she could incapacitate me permanently with one strike–TWO if she wanted to draw it out with some flourish. But she had as much reason to trust me as I did her...right?
"Your clothes are enchanted, aren't they?" Elmiryn asked me suddenly.
I looked back at her, then turned forward to properly duck beneath a low branch of a bay tree. "Yes," I said.
My mother's clothes were specially made by an Ailuran tailor, who knew the spell roughly known as, "Second Skin." It allowed a therian to shift into any form, and not tear or lose his clothes in the process. Whatever shape I took, my clothes would fit to my body perfectly. It was practically a necessity in therian cultures to have clothes blessed with Second Skin. The lives of shape-shifters had many risks and dangers, the kind that other sentient creatures couldn't possibly comprehend. They were expensive, and in the case of the poor, were treasured items that were passed down from generation to generation.
I thought of my mother, and felt a surge of audacity channel through my veins. "You put a hole through my gambeson," I said in a churlish tone.
...The fact that Elmiryn saved my life by doing so, not withstanding.
I could hear the smile in her voice when she asked, "Well, considering the state of your clothes I didn't really think a–"
"It belonged to my dead mother." The amount of force I put into those words surprised even me. I stopped and glared back at Elmiryn, my hands clenched at my sides. Inside my chest, my heart pounded hard against my ribs–but my fear was overshadowed by anger. There were certain things that I just couldn't ignore.
To my astonishment, Elmiryn actually winced at my harsh look. Then her face went blank and she looked away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to insult you...or your mother." She rubbed the back of her neck and gestured at me with her chin–a habit of hers it seemed. "I'm no tailor, but I've some needle and thread with me. I can sew it up if you'd like. That won't mess with the enchantment, right?"
I stared at her. She knew how to sew? I guess even warriors cared whether their clothes were torn... "It won't." I said. I really was establishing myself as quite the lengthy speaker, wasn't I?
She smiled and nodded. "Okay, then."
I gazed at her for a moment longer, then continued walking. I felt more certain of myself somehow, and the tension in my back eased.
...Evil people don't care about dead mothers.
NYX____________________________
We tromped through the tall grass, and blades of moisture and morning chill clung to our flanks. I had my things again–my boots were securely fastened, my small bag of trinkets was pulled nervously on both shoulders by the thin straps of cloth I had stitched in myself. I had ad
ded to my collection the pewter arrowhead Elmiryn had shot at me. I considered throwing it away. The memory of that moment tied my guts into knots, and I preferred having my insides settled and ordered.
Then it occured to me that the little item was special. There were the obvious reasons of course: the arrowhead had saved my life in a sensational manner, the little item marked the first time in over a year that I found myself in the company of anyone, and as superficial as it sounded, it just plain looked interesting. But beyond those lines of reasoning rested other things. They were mystifying, and a little unsettling. If I thought about it long enough, I was certain I could figure out the greater motives that guided me to keep the trinket...but I didn't want to. It tied my guts into knots.
There was a heaviness in the silence around us as Elmiryn and I walked.
Questions, like the feeble fragments of startled dandelions, drifted between me and that straightened back before me, lost and at the mercy of the cool wind that upped and carried them elsewhere. Elmiryn intimidated me still, despite my assertions regarding her lack of inherent evil or intent to do harm, for there rested something haphazard and unsettling in her regard to life and peace and will. Pale irises beneath the morning suns lit up aspirations that both bewildered and concerned me.
At first I felt afraid of the possible situations I may be cast therein; but then (I think it was just a little past Toah and the place we bivouacked, near the area where the poison oak and buck eye trees seemed weaved passionately together) I tried to imagine what Elmiryn had faced herself, alone, and felt my stomach twist in that loathsome way. With a dry swallow, I let my mind wander to less mystifying things.
Somehow my existence–lonely and dangerous and desperate–had been something I deemed only for myself, as if my dry petite hand could lay a claim to a way of living and shun all others skittering towards it. It seemed too cruel a thing to allow such a life for anyone else but me. As melodramatic as it sounded, I wanted that pain to be mine alone.
But beyond my unreasonable sentiments, I sensed something further amiss, and it was that untouchable something that kept drawing my gaze to the tall woman warrior, even as we stopped at the line of trees where the grassy hills and dense wood had given way to a rocky ravine and light mists of water. Elmiryn tilted her head back, her eyes turning lidded as she took in a deep intake of breath. She sighed, in what appeared to be satisfaction, and turned to look at me with an upbeat grin. "This leads to a lake. That stream we saw before must empty out there too." she said.
I shrugged, looking at her. "You mean to fish?" I asked.
Elmiryn gazed back at me and placed her free hand on her hip. "You aren't going to help me?"
Startled, I mumbled something along the lines of, "I don't think I can."
"You hate water." She said flatly.
I glared at her. "No."
"So what's the problem? You're really going to tell me you can't fish either? Can you even hunt at all?"
My cheeks turned red, and I crossed my arms and slouched. "If I could, do you think I'd be stealing from farmers?"
Elmiryn shrugged. "Point taken," she conceded.
Then she put her arm around my shoulders and steered me forward, parallel with the ravine, and made a tutting sound befitting a long-suffering mother. "I guess I'll have to teach you then," she sighed.
"You don't have to teach me everything, y'know..." I said contumaciously, and my eyes flashed up through my uneven bangs even as I felt her laughter reverberate through me. For some reason this made my blush worse; I could feel the heat spread from my face and creep down my neck and back like fire. Stiffly, I shrugged out of her touch and tromped ahead. My bag bounced and jangled behind me.
Elmiryn continued to walk at a more leisurely pace, silent at first, before she started to hum a song. This was different from before. It was the same in nature, but more complex. A melody of humor and frivolity that's arrangement beckoned at my tense back like a playful call.
Odd as it sounds, it made my ears warm.
I glanced back at her, wary, but Elmiryn didn't quit. She only smiled when she saw that she had my attention. Before I knew it, I had slowed my pace so that I walked along side her again. The tension had sloughed off like an extra weight, and I sucked lightly at my teeth to keep the corners of my mouth from turning upward.
Earlier I had thought it bizarre that someone like Elmiryn would know such jocose music. Now I felt it only too appropriate.
The ravine marked an invisible line along the land, so that beyond it a sparse collection of thick old trees and many wild bushes and weeds ruled–not a dense army of any one thing. Out there, it felt like there was more space, and light came easier to the ruddy Earth. Elmiryn stopped humming and the only thing that seemed to fill the silence was the conversation of leaves and the giggles and hisses from the stream of water carving through the rock.
Ahead, I thought saw the familiar glint of a body of water.
"Y'know, I guess it'd be good to try and get to know each other, seeing as how we're going to be stuck together for a while." Elmiryn said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
I gazed at her sidelong, but didn't say anything.
Bemusedly, she looked my way. "Don't you think so, Nyx?"
"Yes." I said, after a moment of thought.
The taller woman smiled, almost languidly. "Good to know you agree."
But the conversation, if one could even call it that, stopped there, and I grew nervous wondering what it was Elmiryn was thinking.
The ravine fed into a fair-sized lake where large bugs skimmed and danced across the surface. It was large enough that if two people stood on either side of it, they'd have to really shout to be heard. The center of it was dark, and around the shallower waters tall slim plants I couldn't name stood proud over the surface. The smells of algae and fish tickled my nose. Elmiryn went ahead of me and sat down on the rocky shore, where she began to take her boots off. I went to her and sat, setting my bag on the dry log next to me.
"How are you going to fish?" I asked. I hugged my knees when Elmiryn glanced at me, and for some reason my blush came back.
With both boots off and her pants rolled up, the woman stood. Her hair draped free over her shoulders as she stooped to pick up her bow and arrows. She gave a grin as if that were all the answer I needed, and then proceeded out into the water. When the lake was up to her knees, she readied an arrow and stood still, only her head moving as she searched for any sign of fish.
She didn't fire a shot for a long time.
My stomach growled at me from beneath my gambeson and I slouched, grumpy, as I watched her. With the time passed, I found myself emboldened enough by boredom to ask her a question. "Are you one of those folk heroes who are altruistic just for the sake of it, or was there an impetus to this quest of yours?"
Elmiryn paused in her quiet hunt to slowly turn and squint at me from over her shoulder. "Say what?"
I resisted rolling my eyes. At the risk of sounding pompous, I really hated having to simplify things I said. "What I was asking was: why are you after this...um...demon? Meznik, you said he was called. Are you doing it for yourself or some noble sense of duty?"
Elmiryn shook her head, and a dubious grin spread her lips. "My, my. You're quite the speaker now!"
"I'm asking a fair question, I think."
She sighed and swiped at her nose with her arm. Her gaze had fallen downward, and I got the impression she was focusing on her reflection in the water.
"He cursed me," she finally said. Her normally melodic voice became somewhat subdued, and I strained to hear her. "It's hard to explain to you."
"You're the one who said we should talk and get to know each other."
"I know."
"So why not try and explain to me this curse of yours? Maybe it'll affect me."
"No. It has nothing to do with you. Not really."
"Then what is it?"
Elmiryn's eyes narrowed and I saw her ready her bow aga
in. Some part of me tensed, afraid that I was being too pushy about the topic. But when she suddenly let loose the arrow, I realized that she had only seen a fish. Blood appeared through the murk, and soon I saw the fish float to the surface. "Verisimilitude. Know what that means?" she asked.
I frowned at her. I tried not to sound surprised when I answered. "Something that has merely the appearance of truth."
"Hey, you're pretty good at my language!" She exclaimed, with a brief smile in my direction. A warmth blossomed in my chest, and I barely was able to conceal my pleased grin. So maybe she wasn't beyond appreciating a good education.
Elmiryn stooped and grabbed the fish, then pulled the arrow out of its side. When she turned to me and tossed the fish onto the rocks, she smiled sadly. "That is my curse, Nyx. Verisimilitude. ...Or something. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."
The fish slapped against the smooth rocks, blood and guts coming out of its wound, and my eyes went wide with delight at the sight of it. Though I preferred cooking my meat to some degree, fish I had no problem with eating raw.
"Go ahead and start cutting the fish," Elmiryn said, "My knife is there with my bag. Don't start eating without me though."
I smiled eagerly, and the conversation we were having fled my mind as I washed my hands and set to work. But soon the question came bubbling up my throat as I pondered over what the other woman said. "How is verisimilitude your curse?" I asked. "That doesn't make any sense."
Another strike. Another fish. Elmiryn paused to toss it back toward me before she shrugged and said, "Every sentient creature has the ability to believe in themselves and their experiences. He took that away from me. Among other things. I mean to get it back."
"You don't...believe in yourself?" I said, pausing in my actions to give Elmiryn a nonplussed look.
She laughed and shook her head. "Not like self-confidence. Something more important than that..." she wiped her face on her arm again and looked skyward, tapping the end of an arrow on her chin. "What I mean is the ability to believe that you impress on the world something...uh...lasting, I guess. Like memories. We all have memories–some more vivid than others, but memories all the same. Then there's the feeling that we're noticed and acknowledged. A sense of...um..." Elmiryn looked at me uncertainly, and I stopped what I was doing all together, transfixed. She pointed at herself and squinted her eyes. "It's like when you know who you are and what you're place in the world is."
Eikasia: Tributaries Page 3