From the cache, they collected their winter clothes and equipment. After exchanged looks, Selen put the stones back over their companions’ belongings, as an offering to the part of them that would linger here. Selen took a few steps before he slumped with exhaustion. Louis hesitated to drag him up. They were too close to the jungle to bivouac. What if they couldn’t leave? If the arch fell down? Or if he slumbered into an everlasting night? Selen handed him a biscuit. Louis took it, collapsed at his friend’s side, ate, and fell asleep on his furs.
Louis woke up in panic. He searched around for a foe. It was daylight. The white sun quietened his tremors. Since there was no dusk nor dawn, he couldn’t say how long he had slept. At his side, Selen was awake, ready to go. Louis put his furs on but didn’t fasten them yet. The dog sat silent. Louis adjusted his bag on his shoulders and took the head up the graveled path.
To reach the arch was long, hot, but manageable. His heart tightened at the thought that they would be blocked on this side. Yet, the dog slipped through the opening as it was but another door, and he breathed again.
One nightmare behind, he thought as he crossed the border between the land of the sun and the secluded sea of frozen tears. Packed in his furs, Selen climbed down the rocks without even taking a break. Gazing at the ice-jumble stretching to the horizon, Louis pushed his hood over his head and buried his face in his scarf. While the dog jumped from one stone to another, they stretched their arms, tested the black ice with their feet, let their bodies slide on snowy chutes until they reached the flat land.
They found their way back as they had come, one statue at a time. The constant snowfall, a heavy, lingering cloud, prevented them from seeing further than a few yards. Their path resumed to the next scraggy needle ahead. In the twilight, they scraped at their flesh like wraith fingers. In the morning brume, they leaned like frozen ship masts in an arctic ocean. Louis didn’t look back. Every time he wondered about Selen, he slowed down his pace. It wasn’t hard. To hasten, on the other hand, would have been impossible. His lips and probably some frostbites bled. He felt the light drops run on his skin, when they didn’t freeze halfway. He heard an outcry. He turned his head to the side but couldn’t see a thing move on the ice. Selen didn’t seem to have noticed. The daylight was a permanent white, as though filtered through a canvas. No sun, no moon, no stars.
Before darkness, they halted and raised a snow shelter. The snow was easy to dig – they waded in it – and they didn’t need to build big for two. Their dome standing, Selen took salted meat out of his bag and cut two slices for them, three for the dog. It tasted of cold bacon. Louis didn’t know what kind of meat the Nuharinni could eat. He didn’t want to know either. On it, he forced down two biscuits and some fermented grain alcohol he cut with melted snow. The sky was fading to purple when he crept under their shelter. Selen and the dog joined him. They unfolded the furs and curled into a moist ball. Despite the cramps in his stomach, Louis fell into slumber.
The dog woke him up by stamping over them. They grunted, packed their things, shared biscuits and alcohol, and peed as carefully as they could into cups they emptied and rinsed with snow. Fortunately, all they ate seemed to turn into poor energy. A scrim of icy fog waited for them outside. As the air was still below freezing, Louis squinted shut his eyes. They followed the statues again, grey silhouettes against the eternal white. The snow piled up against their bases.
After a few yards, he stopped. Something resounded in the air, like the beating of a drum. Judging it impossible, Louis concluded it must be the vibration of the wind in his ears. The semicircular rocky outcrops all around must amplify the sounds. Though, as he progressed, doubt invaded him. Didn’t they chase statues of ghosts? The howling sky only carried the laments of the phantoms of the ones who tried to leave, of the companions they left behind. They were around them, in this desert without moon where glided an eternal moonlight. This weight oppressing his chest was his heart turning into stone. He had died once. It was painless. Were there not voracious creatures killing muskoxen? No. The blizzard. The blizzard closing on them would do.
Selen was down, digging. Louis knelt down and dug too. It was time for another shelter. Another biscuit, two slices of salty meat, the wooden cap of the wineskin against his parched, sore lips. Selen’s were colorless. His eyes, a sea of dumb sorrow. Louis dragged himself inside onto the furs and slept.
The body against his was warm. He curled around it. So frail, so thin. His fingers caressed a skin the sun never tanned. His lips grazed a hairless chest. A perfume long buried in his memories enveloped him. He smiled of blissfulness. I swore I would be back. I’m here now. His hand skimmed up a soft throat, an innocent smile, a jaw. Something wetted his fingers. Louis gazed up. A carmine trail smeared the diaphanous, white vision. Blood. He cupped the loved face. One of his fingers slipped over a large hole in the jaw. No. His hand turned red, drowned in blood. He crept higher, held his head, cradled it close against his chest. He screamed, but no sound came out. He pressed the wound but couldn’t stop the bleeding. He tried to rise but couldn’t lift an arm. Helpless green eyes stared at him. Eyes which searched for a reassuring shelter he couldn’t give. Unspeakable pain ripped his heart. He gripped him tighter. The blood ran sticky between their skins. The life in his arms escaped him. The heart against his stood still. He looked up. The head lost its texture. Now impalpable, his fingers passed through. In the evanescent and soon translucent face, only the gleam of the eyes, judging, screaming, forgiving, lingered…before going out.
His face in a pillow of snow, Louis woke up in tears. Clinging to the vivid nightmare, his gloved hand grasped at the ice. The blood was real, the face was lost—once again—in an elusive afterlife. He would be the last thing he had seen. Wherever he would roam, like struck down by an eternal condemnation, he would bleed—I was supposed to wither away with you. Will you wait for me? Wait until he died. He couldn’t, yet. Reluctant, he compelled himself to consciousness. It had been only a dream…only a dream. He forced himself to let go.
For two more cold days, they walked the frozen wastelands. In a dreamlike state, Louis followed Selen. He feared that if he took the lead again, he would turn around and find himself alone. Solitude gnawed at the deepest part of his soul. Yet, though they shared the tasks, shared the food, they never shared a word. Even the dog had lost its carefreeness. It trotted on the side, tail low, joining them only for the night and for its daily ration.
Louis drudged through the snow. His lungs labored with each step. The white light burned his eyes. He passed above an ice patch, saw his reflection, and halted. Something stained his face. He slumped down and removed his scarf and his right glove. Something covered his skin. He grazed his fingers on his cheek. Hair. A light beard. Filled with blank terror, he unsheathed his dagger. Slowly, he raised his trembling hand to his face. The blade glittered. He tried to steady his hand.
A violent push tossed him to the ground. Selen was on top of him, grabbing his wrist. Louis struggled. He caught Selen’s eyes. The horror in them brought him back to reality. Selen’s hands grasped his face before he kissed him fully. The discarded dagger flopped further in the snow. Selen crept backwards, fumbled in his bag, picked the wineskin, and emptied it. His friend came back, pushed the glove back on his hand, and helped him up. After he turned around, Selen took the lead again. By the contact of their hands as they walked, fragments of sanity returned in Louis. Selen didn’t let go until they reach the mountain ridge. A cairn had been built for them to mark the spot for their ascension.
Sleet blew in their faces as they climbed the pass. Louis forced on his exhausted legs. Every day, he had hoped that his worn-out body would drown in sleep as soon as he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep was his only relief now. Despite Selen’s body and the dog’s presence, nothing warmed his frozen limbs, let alone his numb soul.
They clambered, cut their gloves on edges, dragging the panicked dog until Louis didn’t realize anymore where and who he was. His being was resum
ed to arms and legs striving to reach a summit. When they wriggled onto the top of the mountain, all they could do was muffle themselves for the night. Selen was already asleep, the dog half across his legs. Prostrate on his knees, Louis gazed at the stars in the sky. A foreign sky and yet so familiar. The milk of the goddess, he thought, observing the Milky Way. They couldn’t climb higher. Wouldn’t heaven take them back? Louis wished the spear had been for him. Gently, he pushed back the blankets, rose—or crawled, he couldn’t say—and made a few moves to the edge. The sea of clouds still stretched, peaceful and eternal. He feared to learn what lay beneath. A lament rose from the col below, or maybe it was the wind through the rocks. Louis remembered the blue eyes in the nightmarish face. I forgive… I want to forgive… Adieu. He returned near Selen. Wrapped up once again under the blankets, he held his friend in his arms.
To climb down the cliff proved easier than the ascension. Using the rope, they lowered each other and the dog. The whole day, the sky stayed grey but clear of snowfall. There were no traces of Folc and Ahanu. Their friends must be in Earthfell by now, attending to the boy’s leg. A few times, the dog barked towards the woods. Louis scanned the edge with hopeful eyes, but only a fox and an ermine came into sight. The latter triggered the dog into a pursuit. A while later, panting and weary, the animal finally found its way back and took its place alongside Selen.
Once they arrived at the cabins, Louis halted. Their old footsteps had vanished with the snowfalls. Still, in front of their old cabin, fresh marks were frozen in the snow.
“There may be a sledge somewhere. It could help us,” Selen muttered as if out of a dream. Louis hadn’t heard his voice for nearly a week now. “I’ll fetch the bags.”
Louis walked between the two buildings towards the lake’s shore. He raised his head. The clouds had taken a darker shade. It wouldn’t be long until dusk. They needed to leave and find a spot to build a shelter again. This place carried its ghosts in its timber walls. Against the back of the other cabin, in a low shack, Louis found a short sledge. He grasped it and returned in front of the porch. While he fastened the bags, Selen harnessed the willing dog to the sledge. Holding ropes attached to the sides, they hauled their share of the weight. Once they were ready, they departed. Louis glanced back at the cabins with mixed feelings of setting them on fire.
Drained of their strength, Louis and Selen walked down the col. Unable to find the sheep refuge again, they had dug themselves a hole where they barely had slept. Louis dragged his feet through the deep-packed snow. His lungs burned. He coiled the rope around his sore hand once more. It wouldn’t be long now before they spotted the deserted village. Though they had nearly made it, he felt no relief.
The cure needed to reach the destination, not him. The people didn’t need him to be saved. They never did. He hadn’t prevented a single disaster, a single death. His existence was pointless. The only thing he had left in this life stood at his side. Louis looked at Selen. Withdrawn into silence, his friend was a shadow of himself. His thick, lilac braid around his neck was a mess, his skin was slashed by frostbites, and his eyes were dour pits from lack of sleep and woe. Somewhere during their journey, something had vanished from within Selen. You don’t want to make it back either. You’re as dead as I am… My shroud… It was what Selen was reduced to. He would walk, he would endure, but should they return home, no smile would ever light Selen’s face. Unless…unless Louis took him away. Unless they fled together. From the start, Louis had been helpless, but this he could do. He could save his friend…for the price of the multitude. He looked down the col and stopped. For the price of the task he had assigned himself. For the price of the people. Louis let go of the rope, took a few steps, and tossed his gloves away. He gasped and burst out in tears. Shattered, he raised his trembling hands to his head. What am I thinking? What have I been thinking?
“Louis?” he heard Selen’s soft voice say.
Louis turned to face him. Lost in his chalklike face, Selen’s empty emerald eyes stared at him with concern. “I have been selfish,” Louis whispered. “I dreamed of a life with you. For an instant, I wanted a life for myself.” Louis shook his head. “If I choose that path, I have to renounce to be the man I want to be…my ideals. I need to be free to be a moral man, to understand the world, to reach the universal truth. Otherwise, I will fall into self-interest and pride. All I have accomplished… Am I doing all this for myself or for the greater good? I can’t see the border anymore. Therefore…loneliness is my only choice.”
Self-interest was the enemy of convictions. Louis had noticed early in life that women's purity, as the freshness of their skin, was ephemeral. The charm of their innocence vanished as swiftly as that of a picked flower. What was left then but vain and tempestuous creatures? Choosing women over commitment to the cause was abhorrent and a sin of foolish lust. But his natural curiosity for the other sex had vanished as rapidly as he had realized his attraction to men, not only on a physical level for the beauty of an Antinous, but in the capacity of two minds to understand each other, share knowledge, and feel the same passion. Real love and friendship could exist only between two men. Louis knew that the heart of his sweet Cretan would keep its candor to his last breath, as his previous love's heart had. Selen had followed him through the gates of hell. He shared his dreams, his blood, he understood him as only a man could. Never had Selen tried to lead him astray from virtue. And now Selen stood, trembling but dignified and, though ridden by despair, without a glimpse of anger. A silent tear ran down Selen's cheek as he waited for his fate.
“But I can’t. I can’t,” Louis whispered, in tears.
“You should,” Selen whispered, against all expectation. “I am not what you wanted. I don’t always understand…”
Louis came closer and grasped Selen’s hands. “I know. But I realized that you can’t. We are so close that, sometimes, I forget we don’t have the same concepts… It’s because mine suffer from the corruption of my time. You inspire me, but I never went south of Paris. How could I have the arrogance to pretend that I know your culture better than you do?”
Selen twisted his weeping face. “But even if you admire my culture, are you really prepared to accept my ways? Every time I want to take an initiative, I’m scared to do wrong. I don’t want to lose you.”
“And neither do I,” Louis insisted.
Selen squirmed. “For now. But it will happen. Therefore…maybe it all should stop.” Selen stared at him in the eye.
Louis lost his breath as the ground opened under him. “Selen?”
Selen shifted his eyes again. “I know you will reject me, but I can’t hide secrets from you. I received a revelation on my past.” Selen paused, fighting over the knot in his throat. “I am not from my island. I’m not a Cretan. I was born and lived there, but my parents… I am not pure.”
Louis laid his fingertips against Selen’s cheek and stepped closer. “Pure? What is pure? All in you, your culture, your beliefs, is from your island. You have always been proud of it. Don’t you think I suspected the origins of your blond hair? Why would I care?” As if full of shame, Selen avoided him. “Please, love, look at me. Why?” Louis murmured.
Selen’s gaze turned on him shyly. “Because I’m disappointing. I’m a savage, a barbarian, a moon child,” Selen whispered as if it was the worst thing on earth.
Louis gazed into his emerald eyes. “If you’re the moon, then let me be your Endymion.”
“What do you mean?” Selen shrunk his brow into a frown.
“I want to say yes. I want you…I need you by my side, but to give up for the life you want… It’s not me. Selen, I can’t choose.”
Selen grabbed Louis’s cheeks. “Louis, stop seeing me as a weight. I’m a man. I can take care of myself. I want the same life as we had. I want to change this society. Trust me, nothing will change. The only responsibility I ask you to take is to keep me by your side. Can you do that?”
Louis nodded. “But what do you want?”
&
nbsp; Selen blushed and lowered his head. “A family. At least the feeling of it…”
“With me?” Louis stood puzzled. “But we are…” not married, king and queen…men.
“Yes. I know. They won’t approve it, will they?”
Louis stood silent. Even if cultural, it was totally mad, but he preferred to adapt a solution than to return to his Cornelian choice. “I can’t give up the fight, but will you share this life with me if we find a way for both of us?”
Selen laid his lips on Louis’s. “If you take me as I am. Your ideals are mine anyway.” His friend’s arms crushed his shoulders.
As they held each other tight, darkness vanished from Louis’s heart. The shroud had been torn.
The village was further than Louis had expected. When they came into view of the temple’s tower, the dog collapsed. They crouched next to it. Selen laid his hand on its neck. Louis examined one of its paws. It was brown with blood. The dog whined feebly, its tongue pulsing in his mouth. Not once had the poor beast complained. Not once had he cared for his health either.
“We can’t leave it here,” Selen implored him.
One step further might kill the beast. Louis took a blanket out of his bag and wrapped the dog in it. “Help me carry it.”
They lifted the dog and put it down over the bags of books. The sledge sank several inches into the snow. Louis exchanged looks with Selen and raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” Selen said.
They grabbed the ropes, coiled them over their shoulders, and hauled. The sledge now weighed like a dead donkey. Whipped by the norther sigh, Louis staggered with every step. The thirst made his head ache. Despite the layers of fur, the rope cut through his flesh. Short of breath, he gasped, thus freezing his mouth against the wind. Louis tasted the blood of his lips on his tongue. Regularly, the rope loosened, indicating that Selen dragged more than his share. His face riveted towards the ground, his friend stifled moans of pain.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 45
