A Liar in Paradise

by M H Woodscourt

  They ignored me and conversed quietly as Lon inspected the wound.

  “Let them do it,” Crenen said as he stifled a yawn. “We take nap.” He walked over to a tree, plopped down beneath it, and stretched out.

  “Wait,” I said, walking up to him.

  He cracked open his silver eye and peered at me. “Yes, Strange Coward Boy?”

  “What happened?”

  He smirked. “We slash gut and he turn into Black Misty Stuff. You see as well as we, yeah?”

  I scowled. “No, before. When we left you behind.

  “Didn't so,” Crenen said, opening his other eye now. “We left you ahead.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. So, what happened?”

  “Delusional Broken Man send Nasty Shadowy Dragon and we quickly kill, yeah?”

  “Nasty Shadowy Dragon?”

  “Yeah,” Crenen said as he stifled another yawn. “Big Stupid Thing. But we kill, and it turn into dark mist, too.”

  “Also an illusion?”

  “Always was illusion.”

  “Right. So, it was sent to kill us?”

  “Uh huh, but we remove obstacle from Vendaeva's path.” He winked his silver eye.

  “Much appreciated.”

  “Welcome.” Crenen snapped both eyes shut. “Now, be quiet or we gut Strange Coward Boy, too, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I walked away from him, ignoring the trembling in my legs. I headed over to where Veija and Menen stood watching the operation.

  “Are you alright?” Veija asked, brushing her fingers against my cheek. “That's an awful cut.”

  I touched my cheek where the Seer had placed his fingers and felt warm blood. It had been cold at the time, but it hadn't hurt at all. I wiped the blood away with the sleeve of my robe. Glancing down, I grimaced. The hospital robe was no longer white, nor was it whole. The edges were frayed and tattered, and the cloth was covered in dirt, grass, and blood stains.

  “I need a new wardrobe,” I muttered.

  “Yes, you do,” Menen agreed. “I'm glad I do not dress as they do in your land.”

  I shivered. “Anybody got a blanket?”

  Menen shook his head. “We left them all at the camp.”

  That reminded me. “When did it get light again?”

  “Around the time Lon and Jenen arrived, just before Master Crenen came.”

  “Why?”

  “Perhaps he lost his concentration,” Menen suggested.

  “...Maybe.” I wasn't convinced. Something else had caused the shadows to recede, especially since they'd acted blocked by some hidden barrier.

  “You look really pale,” Veija said, interrupting my thoughts. “Go lay down.”

  I shook my head. “I can't sleep until I know if he'll be alright.” I gestured toward Chasym.

  “We'll wake you when we know something,” Menen said.

  “Can't I do something to help?”

  “Yes, shut your mouth and get some rest,” Lon said without looking up from his doctoring.

  I huffed, almost shot back a snide retort, reconsidered, and took to sulking.

  “Ready?” Lon asked, glancing at Jenen.

  “Yes.”

  My eyes trailed down to the large icicle in my rival's gut. My stomach clenched in sympathy. Lon and Jenen placed a hand on the object and pulled hard. It slid out of the wound, glistening red, and the blood began to flow.

  They tossed the icicle aside and stuffed the wound with Lon's outer robe.

  “I wish we had hot water,” Lon murmured.

  My eyes trailed back to the icicle.

  “Do you have something to heat water with?”

  “At camp, with our water,” Jenen said.

  I glanced around the sky above me. “Liitae, c'mere.” The little blue orb danced into view and swooped down into my open hand. “Make yourself useful. Turn into a pot.” The orb bobbed and reshaped itself into more of a bowl than anything, but it would do. “Make yourself really hot.”

  It flashed purple.

  I walked over to the large icicle, feeling every eye was on me, then nonchalantly wiped the blood from the icicle onto my soiled robe, tossed the icicle into the makeshift pot and watched as it melted into water. Within seconds it was boiling.

  “There you go, Lon,” I said, smirking.

  He gave me an appraising look and finally smiled. “Very well done.”

  I bowed my head, still smirking, then strolled over to the nearest tree and plopped down. “If you need me for anything else, I'll be napping.” I stifled a big yawn.

  16

  The Healing Pool

  It didn't surprise me when I was shaken awake. I couldn't recall the last time I'd come out of a deep sleep naturally, but my aching body assured me it had been a while. I grudgingly forced my tired eyelids open and peered into Crenen's face, again only inches from my own.

  “I thought I told you not to do that,” I mumbled.

  He grinned as he backed away and stood up. “We wondered if Strange Coward Boy remember.”

  “How could I possibly forget? Your face is rather inexpungible, when it's that close.”

  Crenen looked confused but shrugged it off. “Strange Coward Boy use odd words sometimes.”

  “If you'd take the time to learn English properly, you might not need to complain so much.”

  Crenen's eyes narrowed. “Why we need learn different language for likes of you? We move now, yeah?”

  I rubbed my face. “We're leaving?”

  “What we said, yeah?” He spun around and walked away, and I thought I saw a small storm cloud hovering above his head.

  “Snappish twit,” I muttered as I struggled to my feet.

  The area was thick with evening shadows and a frost had settled on the bracken around the clearing. I could see the last of the sun's rays as it set beyond the sea of trees.

  Turning to the others I saw that a makeshift stretcher had been constructed out of long branches and Lon's under robe. Now he was wearing only a thick, baggy black shirt and black pants, with lavender wrappings up to his knees and around his wrists. Chasym slept on the stretcher, and it appeared Jenen had been generous enough to lend the injured man his shawl for warmth.

  Veija walked over to me, skirts rustling, a radiant smile on her face. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I hardly remember,” I answered, not bothering to smile back. I was too tired.

  “Good,” she said. “That means you slept soundly.”

  “I guess so. So, why're we leaving when it's almost night?”

  “Lon ordered us to pull out as soon as he and Jenen stopped the bleeding.” She glanced back at the stretcher. “Chasym has lost a lot of blood, and Lon is really worried. Reincarnate blood is hard to get a hold of, so I don't know if he'll live.”

  I frowned. “Is it that serious?” I brushed by her without waiting for a reply and trotted to the stretcher. Chasym's face was pasty-white, his breath shallow, his skin clammy. “I'll help carry.”

  “You're too tired,” Lon remarked, coming up behind me, red eyes glittering in the dim light. “And you were touched by Seer magic. That leaves a mark. You can't possibly...” As he spoke, I grabbed up the makeshift handles of the stretcher, and glared at him.

  “I'm carrying him.”

  He nodded. “Very well. Suit yourself.”

  “That I will.”

  “I'll take the other end,” Jenen said.

  Since he was probably the closest to my own height, I was grateful. With anyone else, except maybe Crenen, poor Chasym would have blood rushing to his head.

  As we trailed out of the clearing, Veija explained to me that Menen had gone back to gather our supplies at the other camp only to find everything gone. Apparently, the Seer's shadows had taken off with them.

  “No need worrying,” Crenen said from beside Menen. “We only few days travel back to Realm of Yenen.”

  “A few days?” I glanced down at Chasym's pale face. “Can he last that long?”

  “Wh
at else can we do?” Veija whispered.

  “There is a pool,” Jenen said quietly.

  Crenen halted, turning to gaze at his twin. “And...?”

  We all stopped—save Lon—and pinned stares on Jenen.

  “I often go there,” Jenen continued without meeting his brother's eyes. “The water has certain healing properties.”

  Lon turned around now, interested. “There shouldn't be any healing pools left, Jenen.”

  “I'm aware of that. I can't explain how it exists, but I can take you there.”

  I cleared my throat. “Question.”

  Crenen found my eyes. “Yes, Strange Coward Boy?”

  “I gather that the healing pools heal, obviously. But why did they once exist, but shouldn't anymore, even though they apparently do?”

  “You ask questions in a very confusing manner,” Lon said.

  “You know what I mean,” I said, shrugging. The stretcher bounced with the motion.

  “We keep walking while talking, yeah? Only, Sick Nasty Dog leading way now,” Crenen ordered, jabbing a nail in Jenen's direction.

  After Jenen took the front, still carrying his end of the stretcher, we changed routes.

  Lon explained. “A few hundred years ago, several pools throughout Paradise took on healing properties. It was a gift from the core. But when the Paradisaical disease struck, the pools became tainted, and when those who had the disease came to heal themselves, it instead caused the inflicted to die more quickly and more painfully.”

  “But this one didn't change?” I asked.

  “No, it did,” Jenen said from the front.

  We all watched his back, waiting for more.

  He sighed. “I live near the pool.”

  “Ha, Tall Strong Jerk, we know where he live now!”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Jenen ignored them. “Once...someone came to kill me.”

  “You're popular,” I drawled.

  “I injured him badly, but he continued to fight me. So I drew him close to the pool, intending to shove him in the water. Not only does it increase the speed of illness, but also injury. He would have died instantly.”

  “But he didn't,” I said.

  “Exactly. Instead he was healed of his wound.” He paused. “I had a hard time killing him after that, as his energy had been repleted.”

  “You did kill him though, that's impressive,” said Lon.

  “Afterward, I experimented with the pool, throwing in small injured animals.”

  “Not injured before, we think,” Crenen chuckled.

  Veija blinked but said nothing.

  “The water had regained its medicinal properties,” Jenen said, pretending that he hadn't been interrupted a hundred times.

  “I wonder why,” Veija said, tapping her chin.

  I felt eyes on me and looked over to find Lon watching me without expression, his red eyes impenetrable. What was he thinking? What did he want from me?

  Maybe someday I'll tell you, a whisper drifted through my mind.

  We traveled well into the night, and my body ached with the constant strain. I refused to complain, or even flinch though, because I knew with one sign of weakness, they would force me to be carried while someone else took the stretcher. This was something I could do, so I would do it.

  It was strange, really; before I came to Paradise, I would’ve gladly given such a menial task to anyone else. But now, so much was expected of me, yet I was helpless. So, I found myself eager to jump at anything that might ease my burden of guilt. Anything that could make me forget that helpless feeling.

  A few hours until dawn, I finally stumbled as my hands slipped under Chasym's weight. Menen grabbed my arm to steady me while Lon snatched the handles of the stretcher.

  “Rest, Key,” Menen whispered, lifting me up in his arms. “You've done enough.”

  I raised my hands to inspect my new blisters, too tired to protest how I was being carried. “Got a band-aid?” I mumbled.

  He regarded me blankly.

  “Heh. Never mind.” I curled my throbbing hands into fists and closed my eyes. “Wake me up when we get to the pool, 'kay?”

  “Of course,” Menen said, a smile in his voice.

  If time flies on Earth, it's a freaking bullet train in Paradise. I was set on my legs all too soon and pried my eyes open to find the rising sun's reflection glistening in a silver pool of water.

  “Ow,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes to reduce the glare. When I looked up again, I saw Crenen prodding the pool with a stick.

  Menen guided me toward the pool. Lon glanced my way and started walking toward me. I took a step back.

  He smiled. “Relax, I'm not going to send you home.”

  “You better not, pretty-boy.”

  He took my hands and examined the blisters. “This will work.”

  “Do you know that for certain?” Jenen asked, coming over to stare at my hands too. “He's not from Paradise. How do we know it will have the same effect on him?”

  Lon didn't answer. “Come, Key. We need to test the water.”

  “With my hands?” I asked, following him to the muddy bank.

  His red eyes glistened. “Thank you for volunteering.”

  I sighed. “Sure, anytime.”

  “Did someone feed him gerani? He seems very docile,” Menen observed as he gazed at Crenen, who was munching on something.

  Crenen grinned, displaying his pointy fangs. “We had no time, but can be doing now, yeah?”

  I perked up. “I'm really hungry.”

  Crenen only laughed, the creep.

  “Kneel.”

  I obeyed Lon, kneeling in the squishy mud, feeling the unpleasant warmth through my thin, worn robe. He placed my hands in the water. I screamed. Fire exploded across my palms. Lon jerked me back, but the searing pain grew. I curled into a ball, clutching my hands to my chest, biting my lip hard.

  “Are you certain this is the right pool?” Lon demanded of Jenen.

  “Yes. The properties must have changed again.”

  “Are you all right, Key?” Veija asked, and I felt a gentle hand touch my cheek. “Let me see.”

  Several pairs of strong hands sat me up and pried mine away from me. I didn't bother to hide the tears streaking my cheeks. It hurt too freaking much to care. I avoided looking at my palms even when the others gasped.

  “Oh, Key,” Veija whispered.

  Had all the skin melted off? I had to know. My hands were puckered and raw, but where there should have been blood, silvery-blue fluid, pulsing with light, dripped from the wounds.

  “Told you I was turning into a nightlight,” I muttered.

  “If this isn't proof enough that he is Vendaeva, then nothing is,” Lon stated, unwrapping a strip of cloth from his arm and wrapping it around one injured hand.

  “Glad I could sacrifice my hands, so you'd know.” I gritted my teeth as he tightened the lavender bandage. “Though I assure you that up 'til now I've never once bled anything but blood.”

  “It's a magic wound, Key. Of course it's going to be different.”

  I scowled. “Well excuse me for never having seen a magical wound before to compare it with.”

  “We seen magic wounds plenty, but never bled anything but red blood,” Crenen mused, standing just behind me.

  Lon began bandaging my other hand. “As I said, it's proof that Key is Vendaeva.”

  “Hm.” Crenen stepped to my side, bent down, and ran a hand across the small puddle of glowing liquid on the ground. He hissed, wiping his fingers on the grass. “Hot.”

  “So.” I drew a shuddering breath. “So. What made the pool go bad again?”

  “Few can say, but it is a bad sign,” Lon said, glancing at Veija. “What do you think, Seer?”

  She jumped, as though caught off guard, then grew very still, her eyes unfocusing. “The Paradisaical disease is spreading. More Paradisians have been infected.” She frowned. “Time grows short.”

  “The question should be, what
made the pool heal itself and then become poisonous once more?” Jenen said from beneath the shadows of a large gerani tree.

  I froze, eyeing the grapes, and then sighed. There were too many other important things to think about.

  Ugh. But not the pain; focus on anything but the pain.

  “More importantly, what do we do about Chasym?” I asked, glancing toward the stretcher.

  “If he stays here, he will die,” Jenen said. “He needs immediate treatment.”

  “Which means we haven't the time to take him to the Realm of Yenen,” Veija said.

  “Then we go and catch help for immediate treatment,” Crenen announced.

  “Whom do you suggest catching?” Lon asked.

  I tried to wiggle my fingers, but the searing pain flared up. I winced, closing my eyes to stop the tears from leaking out again.

  “And Key must have his hands looked at, in case they are seriously damaged.”

  I imagined myself trying to eat supper with my toes. I didn't think I was flexible enough. “Don't worry about me.” I forced a smile. “Chasym's life is on the line.”

  Crenen spoke up. “We the nimblest, so we go—and Vendaeva come with us.”

  I blinked. “Uh, doesn't that defeat the point? I mean, if you're the nimblest in the group, then I'm the stumbliest.”

  Lon chuckled, covering his mouth to hide it.

  Jenen raised an eyebrow. “Key poses a good point, and besides, who said you were the most nimble?”

  Crenen pointed at Lon. “Too much hair and too much clothes. And,” he pointed at Veija, “she is girl. Tall Strong Jerk have too much length, and you, Sick Nasty Dog, would fall down dead if pushed yourself too hard. This leaves us.”

  I smirked. “But, uh, taking me would only slow you down and you'd be as bad off as someone who is either female, has too much hair, or is...lengthy—none of which are decent arguments anyway. Though I can see where you're coming from about Jenen.”

  I pretended not to catch the scathing glare Jenen sent my way.

  Crenen ignored me. “So, we go with Strange Coward Boy and return with Screechy Hurting Doctor, yeah?” (That sounded so reassuring.) “Come back by nightfall.”

  I looked up sharply. “Tonight?”

  “If we leave now, won't be too hard, yeah? We take Shifty Cocky Man but is too heavy and too hurt.” Crenen beckoned with his hand. “Come, and bring Stupid Round Light.”