by K M McGuire
Again, Voden felt a pang of shock as he waited for Vec to answer. A tiny sparkle, like a glassy prison of emotions, slithered down his cheek, and he looked up past the stars through the blackness. His voice was unwilling, becoming a mere escape of air rather than an answer.
“I sit on the fence of hope and hopelessness. Neither bears real benefit. One is easy to take, the other hard to get rid of.”
“But surely, sitting on the fence, not choosing a side, that’s just giving in to hopelessness regardless!” Voden said critically, hoping it did not push Vec.
“Only the Beyond can answer that. Too bad all His answers are just as veiled as He is.”
Voden swallowed hard at the answer as it stitched itself into the refrain of the screaming ghost, and all he could do was watch her light drift further through the woods; the mother of the lost cried more than just her pain. The ghastly green faded back through the woods, receding to a faint, shimmering blotch, vanishing to the vertical landscape. The cries still held their note, never seeming to lessen in strength. Voden listened to the strange lamentation that beat against the divide from heaven.
It echoed against the firmament of creation, reverberating back to Voden with a painful revelation of words: Return my sons.
“Voden!” Vec shouted as the door slammed violently against the unstable wall. Voden flailed awake, face flushing with confusion and fear. The blonde shrieked, groping for the sheets, pulling them over her bare chest. She made a surprisingly graceful maneuver as she rolled the sheets around her body and pulled them off the bed, tucking herself inconsolably into the corner, until she saw it was Vec, and scowled irritably at him.
“Great Beyond, Vec!” Voden squealed, grabbing the pillow, very concerned that he had lost all physical mystery. Voden saw the look in Vec’s eyes, his smirk not easy to hide, which Voden knew he would someday use as blackmail. Voden tried to settle his veins, watching the scattered speckles of gold flutter in the morning light, falling through the cracks of the faded wood and cobweb hanging in the corners of the ceiling dust becoming like stalactites. “What do you want?” he asked, searching for something to cover himself.
Vec shook his head, concern jittering in his eyes. “I can’t find Andar!” he blurted. Voden could see the panic in his pupils and sensed Vec’s frustration with himself. He felt he had let them down. It was etched in his every scar and muscle. “Shit, Voden! We…we gotta go! Get dressed!”
He disappeared before Voden could respond, stomping furiously down the stairs. Voden quickly lobbed the pillow on the bed, shaking the thought of how many people had used it, flinging clothes around frantically, trying to put them on in the proper order. The blonde also joined in the hunt, snatching her clothes in his fervor. It was bizarrely awkward for Voden.
“Sorry, uh—,” Voden started, unable to recall her name.
She stared at him and scoffed. “You seriously forgot my name? I told you, its Zari!” she snapped, expertly slipping into her dress.
“Right! I really am sorry,” Voden muttered as he pulled on his second boot. He gave her a quizzical look as he threw his bag over his shoulder. He could feel the tension in the air grow strange and was unable to break the discomfort. “Well, I hate to do this, but I, uh, have to go. So, bye then.” Without hesitating, he headed towards the door.
“Hold on!” Zari commanded with an unnatural sternness. Voden tilted his head back into the room, and she grabbed his arm to pull him back inside.
Now, Voden felt rather foolish. “Right,” he said, throwing his arms around her. He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I had a good time and all. Like you heard, I really need to find my friend.”
“You think I want your sob story?” she spat, disgust furrowing her brow. “You haven’t paid!”
Voden became much more confused. “Pay? I…what would I pay for?”
She rolled her eyes and mumbled something about boys being stupid. “I’m a whore, you barren-minded invalid! You pay me, and I pleasure you! I hope to the Beyond you have a coin purse fastened behind that tiny sack of yours, or—,”
“Here, dammit!” barked Vec, chucking a few shiny disks at her. “Come on! We don’t have time for this!” He snatched Voden’s arm and yanked him out of the room. They shimmied down the stairs. Voden was still dazed from the interaction as they entered the tavern, still as dismal as he remembered. The only thing that changed was the melding scents of breakfast and mead. Vec marched to the door and kicked it open. Voden’s arm responded to the sudden force of light drenching his aching eyes. The throng in the street awoke a throbbing in his head, as though the venders yelling squeezed his brain. The market was no different than it had been the day before, still filled to every corner with merchants and patrons, shouting to the heavens about their superior product.
Vec plowed silently through the crowd, catching harsh looks, but once they saw Vec forcing his way through, they were content he had not found reason to hit them. Voden was thankful to follow in his wake.
“Vec!” called Voden. Vec turned impatiently as the crowd pushed around him. “I want to know what’s going on! We need to plan!”
“We don’t have time for that!” he said, turning back to fight through the crowd. “I found a cheap ride to Septium. It would be miserable if we had to find our own way there, and she’s in a bit of a rush. I was coming back to get you, when I realized I hadn’t seen Andar since last night! Where do you think he could have gone?”
I…I don’t know,” stammered Voden. “He’s never been drunk. I know he enjoys his alone time, though. Maybe he found his way to the village on the other side of the bridge!”
“Beyond, I hope you’re right,” said Vec.
They fought the stream of people filling the market, heading towards the entrance. Retorts and insults flooded through Voden’s thoughts, shaming himself over how quickly he had forgotten his friend. Andar could be hurt or have fallen into the river, or worse, which he refused to give any thought to. But as much as he tried to tell himself it would be fine, the thoughts kept resurfacing. Vec and Voden broke the crowd, exiting the building and market as they rushed over to the bridge. Their boots smacked against the wooden planks, dodging wagons and other civilians who walked across the structure.
Voden felt his lungs wheezing resolutely in protest, but his body refused to stop. They entered the village, racing across the cobblestone, and glanced down the bifurcating alleys, hoping to find evidence of Andar down one of them. The further they searched, the heavier Voden felt. It seemed Andar was not here.
The last bit of hope faded quickly as Vec and Voden made their way down the final street; the only places left were the stables. They headed down the tight, muddy alley, which burst with hysterical laughter when they were nearly halfway down it. Vec gave Voden a concerned looked as he quietly turned and started to slink along the cottages that were tight to the stables. They followed the curving street, when they finally saw a thick, bald man with his head tilted back in laughter. He stood at the entrance to a stall near the end of a lane filled with other men not quite as imposing as him.
“Look at this privileged rich boy! The first one I’ve ever seen make himself useful!” the bald man chortled loudly. His voice was one of mild intelligence, only quick-witted enough to point out a sharp insult. “He wants to be fertilizer, the only thing a rich person is good for!”
The gang of men howled even louder. Voden knew the joke was in poor taste, though he knew better than to mention it to them. Voden and Vec drew closer to the stall, and Voden’s heart pinged with guilt as it plummeted from his chest. Andar sat in the corner, surrounded by a semicircle of men, straw strewn through his hair and dirt smeared across his face. Unnamable debris clung from his clothing. Andar remained silent, and though he did not cower, Voden saw the depths of dread in his eyes, unable to move from his embarrassment. He did nothing, allowing the men to make fun of him, never once turning his face in fear. Vec’s steely eyes shifted, glancing quickly at Voden, now both aware of Andar�
��s shame. Vec was already making his presence known to the men, stealing the burning guilt strung between their eyes.
“Alright, you scum! Leave the boy be!” Vec exclaimed, trying to brush the situation away, like a baker waving flies from a pie.
They turned to him as one, scowls gripping their faces. It had not pleased them to have their fun spoiled. The timidest looking man, and probably the smartest of them, nudged the others, muttering about the things they should be doing anyway, while the others grumbled irritably that he was right. They walked off, making clear jests to one another, turning their gaze back with wild smirks and marching to the main road. Vec studied the stall until he found a bucket of water and threw the contents at Andar. Andar bellowed viciously, anger flaring at the insulting gesture.
“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Andar spat vehemently, his face flushing with bitter waves of ruby, flailing his arms from the sudden shock.
“You smell bad,” Vec stated matter-of-factly. “I was a bit offended by it.”
“I’m sorry that I offended you!” Andar yelled, rising to his feet; an amalgamation of animal saliva, water, and fur dripped from the fabric of his clothes. Even though Vec may have acted rudely, he wasn’t without a point. The smell really was quite foul. Andar stared at him, eyes lividly pulsing, and his nostrils flared abnormally as though they vented a mass of heat. “You could have come up with some other way that didn’t make any of this worse! How did we think he could guide us to the Lady of the Lake?”
Andar saw his bag held in Voden’s arms and snatched it from him. Vec stood silent with his mouth hanging open, looking as if he wanted to say something sharp but was at a loss for words. He turned away from them, as if afraid to meet Andar’s eyes, his shame laced in the glisten in his eyes. “We should get going soon. The girl who offered a ride may not wait much longer.”
Andar said nothing, as he dug through his bag, pulling out a clean green tunic and a pair of sepia pants. He unabashedly removed his sopping clothes and yanked on the new ones. Neither Vec nor Voden were willing to ask him anything, worried that he would snap yet again. Voden could not bring himself to look at him, the scowl dug into his fuming expression, and Voden wished to hide from the fury that bubbled just below Andar’s trembling skin.
“Let’s go, then,” Andar uttered, disturbingly matte. He glanced ever so slightly at Voden. His eyes magnified the depth of disappointment, trying to keep the mist of his embarrassment hidden from his friend. Voden shivered, somehow reading that Andar’s evening had caused him some sort of pain that Voden felt too far away from to ask all that happened. Voden knew he should not have left his friend alone, yet neither should have Vec. As he contended with his thoughts, Andar stepped past him and followed Vec’s lead. They began to run along the cobblestone towards the market.
Voden kept stride with Andar, though he could not find anything to say to his friend. Even if he found the proper thing to say, the crowd was too thick, and his attempt and excuse were lost in the sea of people. He tried thinking what it must have been like to wake in an unexplained environment, even though the details were vague for Voden.
They broke the market’s grasp, and relief returned to their lungs. They were now through to the other side of the market, the side that led further into the unknown, leading up a gentle hill.
“Good,” Vec muttered quietly. He never spoke this softly. Perhaps he was mulling over his failure. “She’s still here.”
It took Voden a few moments of jogging up the hill before he noticed the wagon stationed alone under the tree near the crest of the hill. And there, beside the caravan, stood the girl. She waited impatiently. Her caravan was pulled by four impressively stout horses.
They had to be, Voden thought, considering the mass of the caravan. He was intently curious, unsure of what one would call such a marvel of wood and wroughtiron. The back faced towards them, where a tightly sealed door was placed, and it seemed that portion of the caravan was separate from the front half. The front half, he gathered, held some sort of room, which he only concluded because of the finely shaped windows that were covered by silky curtains to prevent wandering eyes from learning of its contents.
“Has anyone ever told you that women hardly like to wait?” came the girl’s voice, somewhere between oversensitivity and playful banter.
As if her voice was not enough to enrapture Voden, he finally saw her in detail. His mother had always taught him that a man was a fool to chase women solely on looks, where love would never gain the depth that men crave more than any other creature, but he could not find a way to reconcile what his mother said with what his head told him. He saw her as a gem, one he had unexpectedly found in a world buried in its own ashes. Something was there he could not comprehend. He supposed it was her essence gleaming from her, all the way through to what he felt pounding in his chest, and the vertigo it plunged him into felt oddly like fear. The only fear he wanted to welcome. Even her hair appeared dimensional, mahogany and curled in a way that was subtle but unmistakably unique. The light flickered across it with flashes of red, cascading from her crown, painting her shoulders in the mystery and answer that is beauty.
He found her dress to be simple, falling delicately to her knees, cuffed by dark, lacy edges. She wore boots that only enhanced the idea that a girl didn’t need to be clothed in gowns and slippers to dress well. Even her skin reflected what he felt about her. It was pale, made of porcelain, though he saw deeper the flush of light rose, bringing life to her features. She held her arms crossed firmly over her chest, her eyes sparkling with a playful shimmer.
Her eyes stood apart from the rest of her. The brownish confidence pierced through him, as though stripping Voden down bare to his heart where they exposed his soul. Nothing remained hidden from her gaze. His eyes were drawn to hers. Her confidence, he knew, was nothing short of magical, waiting to engulf him. Their eyes locked, and he was unable to pull away, trapped by her sight and imprisoned by the guilt of his thoughts and fears. Her beauty, he knew, would take away his final breath. He felt he had already pledged it to her.
“Sorry, we had a rough start,” Vec muttered, trying to liven himself up a bit, but executing it poorly. He stole a quiet glance at Andar, fighting to act normal over the melancholy he struggled to hide. “These are my companions: Voden and Andar.”
She extended her hand towards the boys and greeted them warmly. “Well, at least you’re here,” she said. “If the sun got any higher, I really would have left.” She ushered them over to the caravan and opened the back door, which was filled with grains and fruits. “You can leave your things back here,” she offered. The trio nodded and tossed their bags in the back corner. She looked over the three of them. “You can ride up front with me,” she said to Voden, walking towards the front of the wagon. She opened the caravan’s side door, which she offered to Vec and Andar. “It’s nice to have some company when you’re driving for so long. I have plenty of room in here. I think you two should be fine if you want to sleep or read. I have plenty of books.”
Vec’s eyes widened a bit. “Thanks, we really appreciate it. I…” he stepped close to her, though Voden could hear every word. “I did pay, right?”
“I think so,” she said, pulling a purse from her side. She shrugged, looking inside. “We’ll figure it out then. Just relax, it’s a long journey.” Vec nodded and stepped inside the caravan.
“Thank you,” Andar said gratefully. “I don’t think I caught your name, though.”
“Oh! I’m Yael,” she responded, turning slightly red.
Vec peeked his head curiously out the door, “Yael? How many kings did you have to kill to get a name like that?”
Andar sighed quietly, but Yael chuckled at the remark, “You don’t have to always kill a king to topple a kingdom,” she said playfully.
“I like her,” Vec smiled, and turned back inside.
“Thanks again, Yael,” said Andar.
“Of course,” she muttered kindly. Andar glanced strangely at Voden
before following Vec inside the caravan.
“Come on,” the girl said, smiling at Voden. She hoisted herself onto the bench at the front of the caravan and plopped herself cheerfully down, holding the reins tightly in her hands. Voden joined her rather gracelessly and found the bench surprisingly comfortable. “I had to use a bit of magic to get it that way. Father bought cheap. The only reason it still holds up is because of all the enchantments I placed on it.” She snapped the reins, and the horses pulled the wagon towards the road, following the winding dirt trail to Septium.
A deep, cordial sigh swept down from the unknown, as though the attention of a massive entity was caught by the sunny day and fell madly in love with the creation that enraptured it. Unavoidable was the exultation, and it drifted sweetly along the road, where it caught a green leaf, abandoned on the trampled dirt. The leaf awoke to the whisper, shivering at the call, and finally it could not contain itself, lifting out of its coma of withering decay to dance at the sound that it alone heard. It fluttered and swirled in gleeful loops, no longer restrained by the tree that was once its home, and now, it became majestic like the birds on the branches that held them. In the place it had once called home, its family waved from above, casting stuttering beams of light on its performance. It was whisked away under the caravan, snapping Voden’s attention back to Yael.
“It’s beautiful out here,” he said, hoping to spark some sort of conversation. He watched the few strings of her hair sway in the breeze.
“It is,” Yael smiled. “It’s days like this I don’t mind the travel. It’s always more pleasant with company.”
Voden looked back into the caravan through the tiny window into the dimly lit space. Vec, of course, was crumbled on the small bed, sleeping soundly with his boots hanging over the end. Voden felt guilt swell in his chest as he glanced at Andar who mindfully read from a leather book, lost in the ink drawn on the parchment.