Melianarrheyal
Page 28
She shies away from me, afraid. She does not look at me again. Her eyes run from mine.
She whispers a question: “Is that her? Then go – kill her!”
Now her eyes turn away, she looks at something – not at me, never at me – she raises her lip and narrows her eyes. Eyes of loathing, of the purest contempt. She says: “I certainly hope you won't be losing control.”
The violet moon sets all the world alight, but she is clothed in shadow. She is distant and hidden, clinging to her dark safety. But her eyes are on me, on us, watching, watching, always watching our every move. She stays back in the shadows and she watches. And her face twists with a puzzled hurt, with dismay – her mouth is moving silently – she is so hurt, betrayed. Her eyes are wide with understanding and horror. She opens her mouth and she takes breath and she screams, she screams, loud and shrill she screams in the night, high and piercing, and it resounds in my mind, and it surrounds me and it pierces me and it is all around, her scream is all around me.
She is there before me and I ask her a question and she turns away; a thousand times she turns away; she will not speak to me, nor even glance my way. And now she hits me, again and again she hits me, and it hurts and slow blood is trickling from my shoulder. My blood is turned to fire. And she smiles at me, oh how she smiles, and she says: “Now come, Arri – you can go a little faster than that.”
No. No. I will fight it. I will fight it. I struggle against the binds of my mind, and I come awake at last, panting and shaking, cold with sweat, afraid of the blackness around me. The ship is moving, moving, and its motion does nothing to settle my fearful stomach. The blackness is moving. It is moving and it will not stay still.
A curl of my hair – unbound for sleep – clings damply to my cheek. I brush it back. My hands are shaking and my breath is unsteady and I am afraid. I will not think of it. I cannot think of it. I cannot and will not think of it. My thoughts return unbidden to the dream, but I stave them off; I will not think of it. I will not think of it.
It is all in a box and I have locked it and hidden it and buried it and burned it and now I am running away. It is gone. The smoke is creeping, creeping, rising into the sky; but it is behind me and I will not look back, I will not look back, I will not think of it.
My stomach turns. The ship is moving, always moving. It worsens the fear – but no; I will not think on the cause of that fear. I pull off my eyepatch so that I may see in this blackness, and I run up the stairs as silently as I can, and to the side of the ship, to spew over it. The vomit tastes foul and it burns in my mouth. I take some water from the ship's stores to wash out the taste and clean my face a little; I hope that Ler will not object.
The fresh air on my face calms me a little, but the ship's motion will not cease. I long for earth beneath my feet again, solid and dark and immovable. For now I sit by the side of the ship, with my back to a barrel of water, so that if I must empty my stomach again I shan't have as far a way to run.
I am afraid to sleep again – I will not think why – but my eye will not stay open. All the ship sleeps. It must be early in the night, a long time before they will wake, and I am so tired, and I can do nothing but to lean against the barrel behind me and let my hair fall over my demon-eye and listen to the waves moving, moving.
Time and time again, I begin to fall asleep; but I will not. It shall not happen again. It shall not, even if I must stay awake till morning.