by K M McGuire
“You brought us here,” said Andar, as the room lost interest in them. “And we’re not rich.” Vec pushed them to a table near the stairs, tucked in a lonely corner.
“They don’t know,” Vec said, falling onto the bench next to Voden. “But you’re in a culture that finds its answers in appearance over everything else.”
Voden looked at his own clothes. They were much nicer than most of the patrons, even with the mud and fresh stains. The quality and comfort of the material was far superior to the common burlap or itchy tunic worn by almost every other man. The women, on the other hand, wore far better quality (though they wore much less), which only gave them more of an angelic presence as they drifted towards the loudest jingling pockets they could find. The only female who held some form of modesty headed towards Voden and his friends, her face annoyed and her white knuckles resting tightly around her bountiful hips. She was pleasant enough to look at, though her presence was capable of intimidating any of the patrons here.
“What can I get ya’?” she asked. Her eyes flicked hurriedly across the bar, perhaps hearing a suspicious noise, and she shook her head, huffing like she would rather be anywhere but here. Her eyes made queer swishes over the trio, trying to sneak any look she could, but she was caught every time by Voden, her curiosity stealing her actions.
Vec glanced around, following her awkward glances until she settled her gaze on him. “Three horns, and a room for the night.” She did not move, so Vec added, “Please.”
“One a piece?” she inquired.
Vec flicked through the coins in his purse. “Eh…make it two,” he said, and handed her some tokens. She left slightly more satisfied, leaving the trio to themselves, listening to the banter pounding through the room. Vec smiled with a satiated glaze in his eye. It was all unusual to Voden, watching the wild, unrestrained testosterone fumigating the air. He could not tell if it was horrid or marvelous.
“I have a lot to teach you.” Vec laughed, slapping Voden’s back. “Can’t have you acting like you’re sitting on tacks everywhere we go.”
Andar held his hands in front of his mouth, quietly observing the room. “Where are we headed tomorrow?” he asked. Voden shifted on the bench, wishing it had been crafted with some thought of comfort.
“Well, hopefully we can find an escort,” Vec responded, leaning back against one of the support beams. Voden swore he heard it screech with pressure. “For your sake, I would say heading towards Septium is our best option. It’s the closest city to where you want to go.”
The maiden returned with three hefty horns and handed one to each of them, placing two keys in front of Vec and told him which rooms were theirs. She glanced once again at the boys, smiling this time, and Vec lifted his mug in thanks. Quickly, Voden and Andar both joined him, which caused a plume of foam to soak the front of Voden’s tunic. He sheepishly set it down and rubbed the foam away. No one seemed to care. He realized how alone they were. He had been so used to frequent formality from people, greeting each other as you passed by, or striking up a conversation, but it was not that way here. It was a strange feeling that really explained, in the oddest way, how far they were from home, and it made Voden feel rather small.
He stared into the yeasty ale. Alcohol had been so distant from his mind until now. The sudden confrontation of it sparked a sense of frisson, wondering after its taste. He kept his eyes firm upon the bubbly mixture, those mysterious beads of air like apparitions from a ghostly dimension, swimming through the amber portal, hoping to escape into the new world. As it surfaced to its fate, it was ripped away, vanishing back to the unknown, mysterious from its inception to the very end. It became an enigma, the unknown popping around his image, losing his reflection in the bath of spirits. He lost himself to the color, hypnotized by the lack of feature in his eyes, lost inside the pool. What would the things not yet discovered be like for him? Would it break the foundations he had grown up with? What could possibly—
“To new friends!” Vec shouted suddenly, holding his mug up to the boys. Voden stared at him a second, and Vec rolled his eyes. Voden followed his lead and touched it to Vec’s as did Andar, rather artlessly. “Hold on boys! I’ll say some nice words, then we drink. So, to fates not determined by our own hands!” he exclaimed, smacking his horn firmly against the boys’ drink.
Andar shot him a tight, concerned look, but Vec had already thrown the elixir down his throat, paying no mind to the glance. He finished it with a mighty gusto and bashed the horn proudly on the table. He sighed heavily and smiled with a crazed bliss. “That’s all I needed! Drink up!”
Voden looked again inside his mug. His mind found a man standing over a spiraling chasm, blackness covering the depths—to find it was to jump. Now, the vision and himself were hand in hand. As the man fell, the mug lifted towards Voden’s mouth. The cool rush of air streamed around the falling man. A stream of cool bitter liquid tickled its way down Voden’s throat. A strong burn stretched up from his stomach, leaving behind a sour taste blighted on his tongue. Yet, he embraced the warmth. He stared curiously at the fuming foam, unsure of what he had tasted, but he rather enjoyed the end result of comfort that swelled in his stomach. He considered it a bit, finally grabbing the mug again, and drank. It was better, this. He could see Andar testing it in a similar way.
Vec smiled. “Truly, a creation meant to disrupt the slumbers of happiness.” He laughed and made his way to find more drink. Voden laughed and took a larger gulp of drink. He began to feel something different. It started as a tingle, a hint of numbness that caressed his subconscious. Like a mother to an agitated baby, it lulled his inhibitions. He was enjoying it, taking another long drink; no, the mug was empty. He felt a bit upset, but Vec had returned with more.
“I figured you would be ready for more soon.” He slid them each another. Vec seemed less rigid, becoming loud and flamboyant like the other patrons causing cacophony in the tavern. And the drinking continued.
Now things started to ebb, washing memories to smears. Voden’s legs, down to the bones, had become like liquid. He laughed at the feeling. Voden suddenly realized his body needed to be relieved. He tried to stand, urging his legs to solidify, while Vec and Andar laughed at his attempt to stabilize. He felt good, as though he drifted through an ether of near nothingness. The carelessness felt wonderful. He found the freedom to let go. He nudged against a few people in search of the door and muttered an apology, finding his way outside to relieve himself.
He finally stumbled back inside, head becoming a swirl of winding colors. His vision brushed the smudging images, slightly disorienting him, as he tried to focus on where he was to go.
“Voden!” Andar’s voiced called, piercing the throng. “Come on, Vec wants to play this game!”
Voden let out a joyful giggle and stumbled his way to the table. He was shocked to see a group of scantily dressed women sitting among the table.
“Alright! Ladies, I’m sure you’ve played this game, but my friends here know little of the tavern games,” he said loudly, and the women laughed, staring playfully at Voden and especially Andar. It was hard to think of any word better than beautiful for them.
Vec had placed his arms around two dark and intoxicating women, and they held him as though he was the prize. They had bright red lips and piercing eyes as dark as the wooden tables. They were like beautiful wolves. The girl next to Voden rubbed his shoulder. Her long blonde hair fell across her one shoulder, her smile brighter than her fair skin, silvery as the moon. She wore little makeup, and as Voden studied her, she bit her pale lip. She introduced herself to him. He heard her voice, sweet to his ear, but the words were lost. He pretended to hear her.
“Okay,” Vec interrupted, holding a bronze disk between his thumb and index finger. “It’s simple, really. You take the coin and bounce it off the table.” He cast the disc against the grain of the table, flipping along a glistening parabola. The token hit the rim of Voden’s mug, pinging loudly, and plopping proudly into his drink. “
Bottoms up, Voden!”
The tiny crowd around him roared with gleeful cheers and laughter, and Voden leered playfully at Vec, drinking from the pint.
“No, no, no! All of it!” Vec chortled.
Voden shrugged and yelled, “Bottoms up, then!” He flushed the drink down his throat, making sure the coin didn’t join it.
“Alright, Voden. Your turn. Shoot for anyone!” Vec cheered, clapping his hands around the waists of the women. Voden complied.
He bounced it at Andar’s drink, but it hardly jumped from the table. Everyone laughed as embarrassment snatched Voden’s expression. They played for a long while, losing track of more than just time. Voden found the company of the women more than pleasing. They talked and joked, learning nothing of any real interest, and the blonde kept running her fingers along Voden’s back. Something rushed his blood at the soft touch of her fingers. Voden found questioning it spoiled the bliss. He looked at her, and she greeted his glance with a bashful smile. She behaved flirtatiously with him, attempting to sink the coin in his drink, and in response, he began aiming for hers.
Further, Voden’s vision began to melt into blurs. They were the easiest thing his eyes could remember, beyond his interactions with the blonde. She stayed as the only thing solid. He could feel how much he enjoyed her. Her teeth against the blush of her lips shared the sentiment. It grew later, and she finally kissed his cheek as a fire ignited from where she laid her lips against his skin, rooting emotions down inside his heart. Everything but the blonde became distant background. The world became her, though he could not remember her name. It didn’t matter. Time would reveal it. He knew it was shameful, but the drinking made it excusable. He drank some more.
She leaned over and whispered in his ear, her hand falling on one of the keys. “Come with me,” she said, her voice becoming a succulent fruit alone in an oasis. She gripped his wrist and pulled his flaccid body. He felt a flutter in his heart, and though he was unsure of her intention, he knew deep down what they were. Vec cheered, at least, Voden could have sworn he did.
He looked around the table. Where was Andar? But the blonde was already pulling him upstairs, laughing as they walked up the dully lit staircase. Andar must have been relieving himself. He was now perplexed to see the quiet walls of a room and found he had sat himself down on the bed. Or was it a boat? It swayed like one. The moonlight soaked the floor with beams of silver, spilling like mercury over the pale form of the blonde. Half of her, now blackened in darkness, the other half, radiant with mystical steely light. She was angelic, with beams of light blooming from her smooth back. Yet, there was a creeping of shadows that made her skin appear to crack. She pushed him down, the bed now cupping his back, her skin like the soft petals of a flower.
“I will be the only memory you will ever need,” Voden heard her whisper, as he slipped into the blackness of forgotten memories.
∞ ∞ ∞
Voden awoke to a silent room, staring at the ribbons of light spilling through the window, alone among the shadows of night. Below the room came soft rumblings of overly drunk men, vacantly creeping along the halls of the inn. Voden rubbed his head, feeling a bit foggy, but he convinced himself to lift his body to the edge of the bed, and his hand pressed against soft skin. It was the blonde, who tugged the sheet tighter around her ivory skin, unaware of the fan of hair strewn across the pillow. Voden looked at her a moment, feeling strange. He sensed how fleeting their interaction had been, though he could hardly think if he had regretted any of it. He bit back the feeling. To someone, she was worth it, but he could not feel at all that way for her. He saw her more real as she slept than when her eyes were wide open. Void of the mask she wore, he felt nothing. He shook his head at the monochromatic room, and with a huff, began searching for his clothes. He needed some air. He found the articles cast everywhere but next to one another and began yanking them on. He looked out the window across the woods where his heart called out to Adetia, but only impressions of it seemed to echo back, and though he knew his quest, it could not stop the longing. Voden looked over at the woman and felt a strange compassion he didn’t understand. He pulled the blanket snuggly around her before he walked out of the room.
Alcohol still lingered in his blood, though his mind was not as blurry as before. At least now he could focus on more than the smudging memories that could no longer be pieced together. The steps wheezed under his feet, and he entered the tavern where only a few sad fellows sat curled over half filled mugs, slipping further out of cognition as the barmaid mopped the puddles of amber ponds from the floor. He drifted through the room as a spectre to the patrons, moving as a shadow cast by the torches. They chose not to notice him, or maybe they didn’t care to.
Voden pressed against the door, and the evening air swept stalely inside, breathing from the desolate street. The air was refreshing, spreading rumors of the fading summer, but he embraced the vibrant breath. He walked along the street inhabited now by stray dogs, sniffing at the cobblestones. It was a wasteland left by the townsfolk who had been raptured home by the sleeping sun. It was now the anarchy of the pack. Voden paid no mind to them, passing the stands that were locked and closed, looking towards where he met the mysterious woman who had given him the red cube.
The totems held empty lanterns that swayed with the vacant wind, screeching wrought-iron songs. He realized that if not for the warden of the moon, the world would be ruled by the untamable darkness, once the sun gave up its vigil. He shivered at the thought and found his way out of the market. He leaned against the old wooden wall, staring at the forest, its mouth biding its time to consume them all.
“Seems you had a good night,” Vec muttered, startling Voden. Voden turned to the sullen man sitting against the wall, puffing thoughtfully on a pipe.
Voden joined him, sliding along the wall until he sat next to Vec, staring into the colorless night. “Yeah.” He sighed honestly. “I guess so. I’m really not used to this.” Voden contemplated a moment, but his tongue became dry as he searched for the words. “This is what you enjoy? The lifestyle you embraced?”
“Eh, more or less,” Vec responded, blowing a thick cloud of smoke. He offered the pipe to Voden, which he took rather cautiously. “It won’t kill you. Listen, your life can’t be anything like mine; I have as many scars on my face as I do on my heart. I’d be lucky if the worst of them were only this few and only that shallow. I guess it keeps me from feeling broken. Well, at times anyway. It’s not so easy to forget. Terror traps itself well in our hearts. I can’t cut it out, but I can numb it, drown it for a time. It’s all we want, isn’t it? To find a way to be happy?” He looked at Voden, hoping for reassurance.
Voden coughed as he inhaled the smoke from the pipe. “I don’t think that is the point of life,” he said through the cloud. “Happiness is a choice, a perspective you make for yourself. But life must be more than happiness. A man can make himself happy with the most hellish things.”
Vec turned his saddened eyes away, looking deep into the woods. It seemed he wanted to look to the sky, but refused, as though unworthy. “If that is true, then there isn’t much to gain, is there? Wait until they take your piece of heaven from you, and we can talk about hell. If even a man’s soul can be stolen, so can his capacity for happiness. For me, being happy spreads my eyes to embrace the Beyond.” He became quiet again, passing the pipe back and forth between their silent thoughts, both of them listlessly gazing at the dark caverns encroaching between the trees.
It was then the wood filled with an eerie chartreuse glow, split only by the trunks of trees. Voden perked up, prickling fear soaking into his veins. The woods suddenly filled with a dissonant wail, and like a motherly creature, it cried madly for its offspring. The light sifted behind the trees, moving closer to form a dark astral woman, holding what appeared to be a flickering lantern, flames pulsing green inside its chamber. Voden nudged Vec.
“It’s the Mourning Mother,” he whispered, his words catching in his throat. Voden glance
d at him with confusion. “They say a long time ago, a mother lived with her sons in the woods when the town was new and beginning to prosper. Her two sons loved to watch the traders and wished to one day follow the life of merchants. The mother feared their dream, knowing she would never see them if they left. But when they were old enough, they gathered enough money and departed in the middle of the night, leaving their overbearing mother behind. She searched for them, wandering through the woods and waiting, hoping they would one day return to her. They never did. Every night until her death, she searched the dark, lantern held in hand, screaming for her boys, becoming more hysterical with each passing day. Now, forever she wanders the woods, hoping to lead the lost. They say if you follow her, she leads you away from the land of the living.”
Voden absorbed the story, listening to the desolate song the spectre sang. The cheerful croaks of frogs and chirps of crickets were lost to her pain. “Where exactly does she lead them?” Voden asked.
“I don’t have an answer,” Vec whispered, forlorn.
“You think anyone would actually follow her?”
Vec considered the question, drawing thoughtfully on the pipe. He blew out slowly, watching the clouds for answers. “If you had lost all hope, then perhaps there wouldn’t be a better choice than to take her hand to a place far away. Whether for better or worse, you come to a point where you just wouldn’t care.” His eyes almost glowed with the same aura emanating from the woods. “I think it easy to be fooled, to assume she knows the way to someplace better. It’s on the spectrum of faith that pushes you to her. I almost see myself as her son, wondering if I were to return, would it ease her? Would it ease me?”
The confession punched Voden’s chest. He looked at Vec where wrenching sadness trembled in his eyes, on the verge of accepting the void of hopelessness. Voden bit his lip, needing to know the answer to his question. “I don’t mean any offense, but what is stopping you? Isn’t every option a leap of faith in some manner? You’re so fixated on being happy, isn’t it worth being courageous and seeing if she can offer it to you?”