by Jesse Teller
They came to the house. Three men stood guard outside of a small, stout door in the front of the building.
“Erick could never fit in that door,” Helena said.
Rachel turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed,” Rachel said. “Why would you say this thing?”
Helena paused. She closed her eyes and nodded. “Well, he is of Leeven’s blood, right? He would be a large man, if legends tell correctly.”
“Erick is large,” Rachel said. “And he climbs.” She pointed to a tall flight of steps that had been hastily built on the side of the building. The stairs were shaky and steep, with rickety railing and a leaning support. It climbed to a balcony with two great doors that led to a room inside. The stairs climbed again to the roof, where a view of the city would let him see the whole of his domain. Helena recognized its design, three levels with two sets of stairs. She suddenly missed home very much.
They walked into the building and saw many men, all warriors. This looked like a drinking hall, with a bar and kegs stacked behind it. Stairs climbed to the eastern corner, and the rest of the room was dedicated to tables. They were small, but they looked comfortable. She gazed over the crowd and saw a strange sight.
One of the young men had shaved his head, from the forehead to the neck, right up the middle of his scalp, with full, long, white hair hanging over his ears to his shoulders. She could not take her eyes from him.
She walked in that direction, then the man jumped off the bar top and hugged Rachel.
“Brock, I want you to meet Helena. She is new, and when given the chance to go anywhere in the entire city, she chose to come here,” Rachel said. “Odd, isn’t it?” Rachel glanced at Helena with a smile.
“I’m Brock Clay. I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He led her to a table not far away, to a man sitting in a chair tiny for his physique. He was a large man, with his shirt open to the stomach, toned and tanned. His long, full red hair flowed around his head like the mane of a lion. He was in his twenties, and his smile was a thing of beauty. When he dropped a mug on the table upside down, the entire table erupted in laughter.
The man laughed and slapped his mighty hand on the table. He wiped his mouth, and another man gripped a mug and tossed his head back, drinking as fast as he could. She had seen this sort of sport before. It was popular among the men at her hall. She stepped around, watching the man who drank at the moment. Blond, about the same age. Long hair, trim beard. She saw a great hammer on his hip, and she turned her gaze to the collection of mugs on the table behind them.
“Flak!” Brock yelled. “I have a person I want you to meet.”
Flak was still laughing. He looked up with wide eyes and smiled. He stood and swayed, caught himself on another man’s shoulder before he stood and held his arms out. “Who might you be?” He walked around the table and embraced her. He smelled of spices and sword oil. His body had been honed and hardened to the edge of a weapon, and he held her by the shoulders and smiled.
“Welcome to Tergor. My name is Flak Redfist. You are home now.”
“My name is Helena Dreadheart.”
He pulled back, his eyes widening. “Dreadheart?”
“Yes, mighty Redfist.”
“Helena?”
“Yes.”
Flak looked at Rachel. His eyes scanned her before settling back on Helena.
“I concede,” Flak said to the table. “Locke, you have outdrank me.”
The entire room went silent, and the blond man stood. He looked at Flak and to Helena. “Do you need me?” Locke said.
“Maybe. Can you stick around?” Flak said.
“I can,” Locke replied.
“Brock, take Helena up to Erick’s guest room.” Flak nodded at her. “It has been a pleasure to meet you. When you need me, I will be right here.” He turned to Rachel. “We will take care of her. I am sure you have something else to do.”
Rachel looked stunned before she curtsied and nodded. “I will go prepare to meet with Erick.”
“Thank you,” Flak said.
Rachel did not like being excused, and left quickly with a bit of a stomp to her stride.
“I did not know you would come,” Flak said. “Please pardon me.”
Helena did not know what he meant, but she turned to go with Brock.
The door Brock left her in front of was simple in design. He looked at Helena and back at the door. “I will be right here when you are done. If you need to leave and can’t, call for me and I will come to get you.”
“What is this? Why have you brought me here? What is on the other side of that door?” Helena wanted Erick. She wanted Ruggamon. She needed any face she knew, needed to be anywhere else. Coming was a mistake. She could see that now. Brock stepped back, and she turned to the door and knocked.
“Come in.”
Helena heard a woman’s voice and thought of the clothes she had seen hanging from the windows. Erick had a woman who lived with him, a woman he kept in his house. Helena held back her tears. She thought of Erick’s whispers to Rachel, and the woman on the other side of the door, and knew she had to get back to the mountain. She turned to go, but could not just walk away. She had to know, had to look this woman in the eye. Helena opened the door and stepped into a very nice room. The place was rich in a way Helena had never seen before. A cushioned chair sat the corner, a couch beside it, and deep, rich wooden tables. The room was lit by candles with beads draped over them to light the room in a myriad of colors. Helena reached to her side and felt the dagger there.
She would not use it, but knowing it was there comforted her, and she kept her hand resting there. On the far side of the room, a chair sat in front of a window. A gauzy curtain blew reckless in the wind, wild and dancing before the chair, where a woman sat staring out the window at the busy streets below.
Helena stepped closer, fear hammering in her chest. She walked with a lead weight in her gut, her hands trembling.
“Who are you?” Helena asked.
The woman started but did not turn around.
“He calls me Lady Dread,” the woman said, her voice breaking with emotion and frail as a flower petal. “What does Erick call you?”
“Erick is a fiend,” Helena said. “He is not what he tells people he is.”
The woman struggled to get to her feet. Helena watched, her heart stopping in her chest. She knew that hand, had seen it before. She looked around, feeling exposed, needing a place to hide, needing her father.
The woman stood, her hair fading to gray, her face gray, her eyes sagging in heavy eyelids. She braced herself on the back of the chair, and she stumbled forward, her hands out and clasping like the claws of some beast.
“You will not speak ill of him. He saved me. He found me and pulled me out of the utter despair. Erick loves me. He told me so.”
Lady Dread drew closer, and Helena needed to run. She stared in horror at the face as it neared her. She stepped back and held her hands up.
“Don’t touch me. Stay away from me,” Helena said. She pulled her dagger, and the woman froze. Helena could not take her eyes from the face, the face that had scared her so as a child, the face of her mother. “I will kill you if you touch me!” Helena cried.
The woman stared. Her mouth began to move as if she was chewing, and she dropped to her knees. “Helena?” she said with cracking voice. “Helena, is that you? Is that my baby?”
Helena stepped back and reached for the door. She could not take her eyes from her mother before her, and grabbed the handle of the door and jerked it open. She stumbled out of the room and slammed the door shut before her.
Helena gasped for breath as she held the door shut. She gripped it tight and wept.
She felt strong arms around her, and she slapped them. She clawed them. She kicked her legs as she was lifted into the air, and her legs were swept from under her. She slapped and scratched and cried out, until she heard him whispering to her.
“Helena, stop. I have you. I’m here,”
Erick said.
She screamed, and he kissed her.
She fought against his mouth, but within a few moments, she sank into him, sobbing.
He carried her away, and she let him. She did not care where he took her, did not want to think about it. He walked past Brock. He walked past Flak. He walked past everyone, and he ascended stairs to the high levels. When he got to his door, he kicked it and slammed it open. She could smell oils had been applied to the wooden surfaces. The room was clean. He took her to a bed and laid her on it. She sank into his down mattress and rolled over, crying.
Before long, she fell asleep.
She woke up and knew where she was immediately. The room was dark, but she knew he would not have left her. She knew he was in this room.
“Why do you have my mother here?” Helena asked. “Why would you want that woman near you?”
“She gave me you. The first time I came here, I sought her out. I found her in an alleyway, dying and trembling in withdrawal from her black weed. She owed some scary men a lot of money, and they had plans to make her pay it off. They would not take the money I tried to pay for her, so I brought Flak back and we took her, with the help of Locke, Luther, and Brock.
“Once I had her, I brought her here. I bound her and starved her of the grass. She nearly died. She kept calling out for you. She kept screaming for her daughter and apologizing. It broke my heart. When we got her out of that grass’s grip, she was nearly dead. Oa Fendis lent me his healers. They are the best in the city. We brought her back from the dead. She is not well, and will die in a few months, I am told. She is tired and can’t move very well.
“She will not live through winter, I am sure of it. But while she does live, she will live under my protection. Until she has breathed her last, she is here with me. I love her. I will not give her up.”
“You love the woman who beat me and terrorized me?” Helena said. “My mother is a monster. She does not deserve to be cared for.”
“She is all I had of you. I wanted to keep her safe because I knew you would never come here, and I needed some part of you,” he whispered.
“I don’t need your whispers, Erick Flurryfist. Save them for your Beastscowl whore. She told me all about your whispers and your kisses. She told me of the time you two spent together, and the way you love her.”
“I don’t love Rachel Beastscowl.”
Helena sat bolt up in bed. “Shut up, you liar!” she shouted. “Shut your lying mouth. I know what you are now. You used me all year for your sexual needs. You kissed me and whispered to me, and you talked to me as if I were your great love, and all of it because you were leaving, and you wanted a woman to warm your bed.” Helena rolled off the bed to her feet and turned in the dark, looking for the door.
“I am leaving.” She walked forward and stubbed her toe on some piece of furniture. She cursed and kept moving, smacking around with her hands, looking for obstacles. “I want nothing to do with you.”
She bumped into a table, hitting her shin and crying out in pain. “I want nothing from you, and I want you to go to the hells and die. I want you to suffer, and I want you to be with the… I want you to be put in a… I want you to... I want to just watch you... Dammit, Erick! I hate you.” She hit another piece of furniture and toppled into his arms. She punched him and clawed at him and kicked him. She slapped around, looking for his eyes so she could claw them out, when he grabbed her wrists with one hand and pinned them to his chest. She kicked, reaching her leg up, trying to hit his crotch, but he wrapped his impossibly strong arms around her, and she could not move.
She screamed, tried to bite him, and he kissed her. She bit his lip and felt blood spurt in her mouth before his tongue slipped into her, and she pulled back.
“Let go of me now, you bastard. I hate you. I want you to die.” She wept. He picked her up. She kicked her legs and struggled before she sagged in his arms. He held her to his chest and lowered his mouth to her ear.
“Hate me if you want to. I can’t stop you. But you are here. Please don’t leave yet,” Erick said. “I can’t bear to say goodbye to you again. Just let me keep you a little longer. Losing you again will kill me.”
The sound of his mouth soft in her ear sapped her of all her hate.
“She is beautiful,” Helena said. “I met her. I met your Beastscowl woman. She is a goddess. I can’t compare.”
He placed her in his bed again as she sobbed. He moved to leave her there, but she gripped his hand.
“She is worthy of you,” Helena said.
“She is not what I want,” Erick said. “She is my nightmare.” He sobbed, and Helena grabbed his hand, frantic. She pulled ever so gently, and he climbed into the bed with her.
“I can hold you for a while, but I need to walk you to your house soon. I can’t—”
She kissed him. She tasted tears on his mouth, and she wept as well.
She felt him working the straps of her shirt, and she let him do it. He untied them and gently pulled it over her head.
She suddenly needed him more than air. She needed him more than answers. She did not care what they did to her, where she ended up. She did not care what happened to her after this moment but, for now, there was nothing in the world, save this bed.
They were an island in a storm, a place of peace in a war zone of love. She felt him tenderly working the laces of her skirt, and shoved his hands away. She gripped his shirt and shredded it open. She wrapped her hands around his middle and pulled herself to his chest. She took him in, and his bulk filled her up to near exploding. She felt for the first time in a long time as if she was right, as if she was complete.
“They will kill us if they catch us,” he whispered.
“We are already dead,” she said.
She pushed him back, and he rolled over. She climbed atop him and spread her legs as wide as they would go. His body was so massive her knees would not touch the bed when she straddled him. She shoved away from him and dropped back on him.
He sat up, wrapped his arms around her and slid into her again. His mouth was at her ear, and he gasped. “Helena, Helena, my love, take me with you when you go. Save me from this place and this life without you.”
She wept, for she knew he would not go. No matter how he begged, his duty to his clan of kings would not let him walk away. But she let herself enjoy this one moment, when he wanted her bad enough to leave his entire life behind, every lesson he ever learned, every promise he ever made, to be with her.
“I will take you,” she said. “I will take you when I go, and we will make a home for ourselves anywhere but here.”
He sobbed and, in that moment, finished. The purity of that one idea brought him to his climax. She dropped down upon him as he slowly pulsed into her.
*******
In the morning, he was gone when she woke. She tried not to think about where he was or who he was with. She got dressed and walked out. She knew where she needed to be.
She walked to her mother’s door and threw it open. The woman within seemed haunted. Helena stomped to the couch her mother sat on to loom over her.
“I hate you,” Helena said. She saw her mother for the first time, really looked at her face, and shook her head. “Your eyes are yellow. The irises of your eyes are yellow. That was the black weed. Your face is gray, black weed. Your teeth are red. Your hands shake. Your fingernails are stained black. Your lips are bent and twisted. Your entire body has been ruined by your addiction. You have burned this body to a charred husk, and you are going to die. You deserve it all.”
Her mother nodded, closing her eyes. Her silent tears smelled of sulfur.
“You hate me, and you have reason. I will not ask you to forgive me. Erick has been good to me. He has loved me and cared for me, but it is more than I deserve. I don’t know why he brought you here, but I will not question it. I got to see you again, that is all I could ask for.” She nodded and lowered her head. “Say the rest, then you can leave me to die.”
“I am not going to feel sorry for you. You are a bad person. You are an addict, and you were terrible to me.”
The woman nodded, but did not look up.
“I want you to leave this place. Go back to the alley he found you in. Die there. You don’t deserve this place.”
“Ask her where she is from.”
Helena spun to see Erick leaning against the doorframe. He stepped in and closed the door. Her mother looked up at him and smiled.
“Good morning, Flurryfist. I am leaving today. My daughter has decided I need to go. I will obey.”
“First, I want her to hear what you have to say,” Erick said. “Helena, ask her. Ask her where she is from.”
“Where are you from, woman?”
“Dark Seed. My family is from the Dark Seed tribe.”
“Dark Seed,” Helena gasped.
“The only thing that grows there is black weed. We are born to it. It gets in the water. The babies get it from the mothers. Before we can crawl, it’s in our bones. Many have tried to flee. The whole tribe has fled, packed up everything and left. We go to other tribes, other villages. We try to live normal lives. My people are fine for a while, but it always tugs us back.
“The slow consistent pull of need drives us back. When they burn me, they are going to find my bones are black.” Her tears kept rolling, and her bent back shuddered as she wept. “I was running from it when your dad caught up with me. He was hunting with the Heavy Hand tribe, and he caught me running. I was starving and bleeding and cold. I had run with just a dress, no slippers or shoes of any kind. I had no food. I had no water. I had not taken anything with me. I had just run.
“He made a fire for me and warmed me by it. The man took off his boots and gave them to me. He fed me. He took me to his home. He carried me when I couldn’t walk, and cared for me while I beat it. I fell in love with him. I knew he didn’t love me back, but he married me. That is the kind of father you have.” She shook her head. “I was selfish to let him take me in.
“The bones need it. They crave it, and soon, I was being pulled back. I already had you, had already given birth to my shining girl. I took to the drink.” Her mother sobbed, and Erick took her hand. “It was better than the grass. Anything was better than the grass. At first, just a little. Took the barb out of it, took the pain of need away. But soon, I needed more. You were clean, that is what kept me going at first. But when the worst of the cravings came for me, your purity wore on me. I started to hate you for it.