Scorched

by Jendela Tryst

  After walking for what felt like hours, Psyche heard the distinct sound of running water and followed it until she discovered a rocky stream. She leaned down and quenched her thirst greedily and wiped her sun-parched face. As Psyche raised herself up, she heard the faint sound of female laughter. Psyche’s heart sang at the idea that there might be some other living being near her. Perhaps she may finally learn where she was.

  Psyche hurried upriver towards the tinkling giggles that occasionally seemed to get lost in the gurgling of the water. The further up she went, the wider the stream became, but Psyche continued to hear the female voices more and more clearly. When she reached the end of the river, she drank in the celestial scene. Tall rocks interrupted the flow of the river, creating narrow dancing waterfalls that splashed against moss-covered minerals. For a moment, Psyche thought she had mistaken the sound of the waterfall itself for laughter. She did not see a single, living soul.

  Then, Psyche heard it again. This time, it was right in front of her. Shading the sun with her hand and peering more closely, Psyche realized that behind the waterfall were four naked women, their hair blending with the water and ferns, and their skin glistening like sparkling crystals against the sun. They laughed again, and it reminded Psyche of the chiming of rainfall.

  Intrigued, Psyche moved closer, ready to call out, then froze, gasping in shock. These were not mortal women. They were river nymphs that Psyche had read about. For a moment, Psyche simply stood, her mouth open, watching the strange creatures, unable to look away.

  One of the nymphs had caught a jumping scarlet fish and threw it at one of her friends who screeched and fell back in the water, only to reappear and splash her companion playfully.

  Swallowing, Psyche knew she had to be brave. They were the only creatures she had spied for hours, and she could not lose her chance.

  Carefully, Psyche crept closer to the edge of the stream towards the slippery waterfall.

  “Excuse me,” she called out.

  The river nymphs did not look as if they heard her, so Psyche stumbled closer and called out more loudly. “Excuse me!”

  Four pairs of eyes turned towards the mortal girl. All gasped at the same time before leaping into the water and vanishing. Shocked at the speed in which they disappeared, Psyche felt more alone than she ever did before.

  “No, please, don’t go! I only mean to ask for directions!”

  Helpless and tired, their continued silence was too much for Psyche. She burst into tears, the drops hitting the water that seemed unmoved by her plight.

  “Please, do not leave me,” she begged quietly, certain no on would hear her.

  A voice suddenly came from the water and Psyche wiped her tears and stared at her sad reflection. The beautiful face of one of the nymphs had appeared where her reflection should have been.

  Suddenly, a head lifted up off the water and stared back at Psyche with blank curiosity.

  “You are... human?” the nymph spoke in a voice that reverberated as if in a cave but used a language Psyche understood.

  “Yes,” Psyche responded.

  Three other heads popped out of the water and smiled at her.

  “A real human!” one gasped.

  “She’s beautiful!” another cried out.

  “I want to touch her!” the third declared.

  “Silence,” said the first one, her eyebrows drawn in frustration. “What is a human doing in our forest?”

  “I was brought here,” Psyche explained hurriedly. “I was carried here by... by a strange wind. My name is Psyche. I am of Bromeia and all I want to do is go home.”

  “Psyche... I do not know of any Psyche of Bromeia.” The nymph was now floating about the water and Psyche was able to see the grace of her movements, as if water and nymph were one. Did the water ripple with her, or was she just a ripple?

  “Sounds like a terribly dull place,” scoffed another river nymph who pulled herself out of the water and basked herself on a nearby boulder. Her skin looked like the scales of an exotic fish but she bore the shape of an agile woman. “Why would you ever wish to go back?”

  Psyche did not quite know how to answer. “It is my home.”

  “Why would someone bring you here?” asked another nymph closer to her.

  “I... I was married,” Psyche answered, worried that they would leave. “To someone I’ve never met before, and I was brought here to meet him.”

  “Then you must go to him,” said the first caustically. “A marriage is a marriage, regardless of the circumstance.”

  “No, please, I cannot,” Psyche responded. “I must get home.”

  The nymphs were already distracted by a water snake that they began tossing playfully at the each other. The first one suddenly straightened.

  “Hush! Do you hear something?”

  Psyche heard a snapping sound from across the brook.

  “Oh no, they’ve come for me!” Psyche gasped. She wondered what her dreaded punishment would be for running away. Frantic, she hid behind a boulder.

  “Oh, it is Narcissus!” one of the nymphs squealed with delight.

  Suddenly, Psyche was forgotten as the nymphs rushed to the other side of the brook and called out to a figure who had yet to present himself. When the youth did step out, Psyche could see what all the fuss was about. The youth before her was so beautiful, she could barely take her gaze away. But what was more fascinating was the transformation of the river nymphs who preened and posed as they gazed adoringly up at him. Forgetting herself, Psyche stood from behind her boulder and watched with growing amazement.

  “Oh, Narcissus, have you come to visit us?”

  “You were going to play us a song on your lyre again, weren’t you?”

  “We have been waiting for your return.”

  Narcissus barely glanced at the maidens and instead looked past them at Psyche, then bored, looked passed her as well. “Not at all. I was chasing a buck that might have come this way. You did not happen to see it did you?”

  “A buck, no. Just this miserable little human.”

  Psyche glanced away, feeling smaller and more insignificant by the moment.

  “A human?” This seemed to interest the newcomer who took a second glance at Psyche. “Do you have a name, human?”

  “Psyche.”

  He frowned. “What a strange name.”

  “As is Narcissus,” she responded bluntly.

  The young man laughed richly, and without quite understanding why, the river nymphs decided to laugh with him. “Well, my name is only strange to those who haven’t had the pleasure of knowing me. So, human, have you seen a valiant, handsome young buck about these parts, aside from me of course?”

  The nymphs laughed and Psyche sighed, embarrassed for them.

  “There are tracks on this side of the river which may belong to an eight pointer, fresh only a few minutes past.”

  Narcissus looked impressed and without soiling his pristine white linens, hopped to the other side of the river.

  “Oh, let us help you Narcissus!”

  “You must be careful!”

  “You don’t want to scrape yourself!”

  He ignored the river nymphs and came upon Psyche with a dashing smile. Despite her distrust of him, Psyche found herself blushing beneath his handsome gaze. “You hunt, I take it?”

  “On occasion.”

  “Then you could help me track down this creature?”

  “Only if you help me get back home,” Psyche responded.

  The first nymph snickered, more meanly than she ever did before, and Psyche could sense the upset she was causing for catching the youth’s interest.

  “Why do you laugh?” Narcissus asked the nymphs.

  “She wants to get back to some place called ‘Bromeia’,” the nymph taunted. “She does not realize how far away she is from her human country.”

  Narcissus looked confused, and then an idea struck him. “Psyche, that was your name, yes?”

  Psyche nodde
d helplessly, trying not to let the words of the snickering nymph depress her. As she already suspected, Psyche was hopelessly far from home.

  “I am not sure where this Bromeia may be,” Narcissus admitted, “But I shall look into it for you. Meanwhile, you must help me find that buck. Do we have a deal?”

  Not knowing what else to do, she nodded.

  “Wonderful then!” Narcissus dropped his bow and quiver of arrows in front of her. “I’ve been meaning to get a hunting assistant. Carry that for me while I track down this beast once and for all!”

  Psyche stared at the quiver full of arrows tossed to the ground for her to pick up. Her first instinct was to kick them and demand that he carry them himself, but she was tired and starting to get hungry and a feeling akin to desperation was slowly creeping into her heart. Gritting her teeth, Psyche picked up the weapons and wondered how long it would take before she would aim it at her arrogant, self-centered companion.

  As it turned out, Psyche’s patient wore thin in no time at all. They had only traveled half a mile before Psyche had enough of Narcissus’s mindless chatter. His stories consisted of nothing but how he hunted and felled this beast and that. His language made it sound like each elk and stag was some reluctant woman waiting for him to conquer.

  Narcissus proclaimed that he was afraid of nothing and that he was renowned around these parts as the man who could charm the squirrels from their trees. Apparently, there was a time when even Aphrodite could not resist him.

  “She was in disguise, of course, as a lost maiden, similar to you, only ten times more beautiful. I took pity on all her mewling and gave her what she wanted.”

  Narcissus stopped suddenly and Psyche almost ran right into him. She looked about her to see what had stopped him only to see that he was staring down upon his reflection and adjusting his hair.

  “Now, where was I?”

  “You were about to tell me where we are,” Psyche interjected.

  “Eh?”

  “This place, these forests, just where are we?”

  “This? This is the Island of Amorus, of course. It is one of the oldest and most sacred islands in the world. Right now, we are in the Enchanted Forest, and you are walking with the handsomest man on earth.”

  Psyche rolled her eyes heavenward having had enough.

  “I don’t care if you are the last man on earth. You are by far the most arrogant, boastful, ridiculous being I’ve ever met. And you have been leading us in the wrong direction for the past hour. Can you not see that this is the same trail as before, and we’ve been going about in circles? You have not told me a single thing that could be useful to me.” Psyche dropped the bow and quiver, unceremoniously, to the ground. “Go carry your own weapons. I shall find my own way home.”

  Narcissus sputtered, having never been spoken to in such a way before.

  “Now, hold there!”

  Psyche ignored him and headed in the opposite direction on the trail, trying to make sense of the terrifying news he had just given her. The Island of Amorus? She had never even heard of such a place. Certainly, a magical island full of strange creatures, not dissimilar to the epics she had spent hours pouring over, would have been in some form of writing?

  Unless it hadn’t been discovered yet.

  Psyche refused to let herself lose hope. If she were to gain anything from the papyri that she loved so much, perhaps it could be the courage to get out of this mysterious island and find her way home.

  Pushing through the brambles, her ears suddenly caught something in the air that she was certain wasn’t there before. Holding very still, she could decipher the faintest sound of music. Psyche began to follow it.

  The music became louder and louder, and Psyche knew it was only one lone instrument, a lute of some sort, and the sound was upbeat and fanciful. Surely the source had to be friendly, for who could create such music and have ill intentions? The Sirens came to mind again, but Psyche ignored the recollection.

  When she reached a clearing, she saw that in the center of the green grove was a tree stump covered in countless, spotted, red mushrooms. Small, wild animals were gathered around listening to the wonderful player. A strange creature sat on the tree stump, tapping his foot to the music of his lute. But what feet he had! They were hooves.

  Psyche immediately realized that she was staring straight at a real satyr, with the torso of a man and the lower limbs of a goat! His goat legs were furry, and his hoofs looked as if they were worn and even cracked in some places. But, his furry belly blended away to swarthy skin, turning more hair-like all the way up to his head where the same shade of brown-gray curled in tangles above his closed eyes. His fingers danced with amazing speed on the lute, one end pressing gently against his pink, surprisingly human lips that pouted beneath a wide, goat-like nose.

  A pair of rabbits rested by his feet, and a beautiful deer was grazing on green shoots near the tree trunk. Birds whistled where they perched while squirrels and chipmunks listened ardently. Psyche, overcome by curiosity, found herself creeping closer to the center of the clearing. The music was so cheerful and warm. She was certain she could trust this strange musician.

  A twig snapped from beneath her foot, startling the nearby animals. They took one look at her and scampered off. The sudden squeak and frenzy of an owl flapping its wings caused the satyr to stop his music and look about to see what had so offended his audience. When he spied her, he almost dropped his lute in surprise and stood up as if to join his fleeing friends.

  “No, no, please don’t run!”

  Now that she was closer to the creature, she realized that he was only a little bit taller than she and that his face was youthful beneath the shadows of his beard.

  “I heard your beautiful music, and I just wanted to see where it was coming from.”

  The satyr said nothing, just quirked his head curiously and stared at her with huge brown eyes.

  “My name is Psyche. I am lost and I’m realizing that I did a foolish thing in running away.” As the satyr continued to stare at her, Psyche began feeling more and more uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You are a mortal?”

  “I—” she did not know how to respond to such a strange question. “I am a human, yes.”

  “So beautiful...” the satyr choked as he moved towards her.

  Psyche found herself backing away. She had been wrong to believe that she could trust anything or anyone in these frightening woods. The satyr continued to approach her slowly.

  “Satyr, stop!” came a voice from behind.

  Psyche turned to see a face she never thought she would be so happy to see. Narcissus, with his golden hair flowing in the breeze, had his bow and arrow carelessly notched, and was moving towards the hairy beast whose ears turned down in disappointment.

  “Narcissus,” he hissed. “She belongs to you?”

  “Hah! As if I would want anything to do with a mere human girl. Did you not know that even Aphrodite—”

  “I do not care to hear about any more of your conquests!” sneered the satyr. “Is it not enough that you have every nymph on the island at your beck and call! Can I not at least have one human for my own?”

  “This is true,” Narcissus admitted. “I do have every nymph at my beck and call...”

  Not wishing to stay to hear where the conversation was going to lead, Psyche slowly backed away from the clearing and hurried in the direction of the brook. She no longer wanted to meet any one or anything else in the forest. She preferred invisible servants to the madness that lay here.

  “Look what you’ve done!” she heard the satyr cry out. “She’s gotten away!”

  “Such ingratitude for saving her life! I won’t forget this, Psyche of Mere Mortals!”

  The call made Psyche’s feet run even more swiftly. When she reached the brook, she ignored the laughing river maidens who paused to stare after her.

  “Goodness, what has her in such a rush?”

  “Perha
ps, Narcissus saw her naked and realized she was too repugnant for him!”

  The nymphs laughed gleefully and Psyche continued to race away, ignoring the hurtful sneers and wanting only to return to safety.

  When Psyche finally reached the courtyard of the castle, she allowed herself to slow. She never thought she would be so happy to see anything in her life. The entrance was still a great distance away, but she felt safer knowing that she was close.

  Suddenly, a gray horse and chariot appeared, steered by an invisible rider. After her experience in the forest, Psyche was no longer surprised when she heard a friendly male voice.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’ve returned! We were about to send a whole search party for you.”

  The frustration of Psyche’s failed escape and the terror of the satyr’s frightening gaze caused her to shake all over. She was safe, but for how long? What terrible creatures were waiting for her in that palace? Knowing what she knew now, she could only imagine the worst.

  “Where am I?” Psyche asked the empty chariot, its door swinging open for her.

  There was no answer and Psyche, fed up with the blasted silence, slammed her hand against the chariot and screamed again into the air. “What is this place?”

  After a long pause, the voice came again, more gently.

  “Come, Mistress. We have supper waiting for you.”

  The horses sniffed, looking at her with irritation. Psyche took a deep breath and heard her grumbling stomach, her body exhausted. Knowing there was nothing left for her to do, she climbed upon the chariot, feeling defeated.

  Psyche had glimpsed a world that she knew nothing about, and the possibilities were endless. There were creatures she did not think even existed. Yet she knew, no matter what lay ahead of her, next time, she would be more prepared.

  “Do you know when my husband will arrive?” Psyche managed to ask her invisible driver.

  There was a brief pause and Psyche wondered if the servant heard her. “He has already arrived, Mistress. You are to meet him this evening after supper.”

  Psyche felt her stomach clench but she hid it from the ever-watchful eyes. Instead, she stared stonily ahead. “Splendid.”