by Kiki Howell
I want to say it took days, but in reality, it took a couple of years for me to wrestle with all of the questions that I had, and come to the realization that I was never going to have answers staying where I was. I think it took me that long too, to accept that those around me, while still calling themselves family, did not go out of their way to continue including me. They were not overtly rude, nor were they exclusionary, it was more like I was allowed, or tolerated to be on the periphery. With both of the people whom I called my parents gone, the familial ties that bound us together were more frayed edges than a firm foundation of family. My confusion, and lingering desperate grief, overshadowed this reality until it was too obvious to ignore or dismiss any longer.
When I made my excuses to leave, there was not exuberance at my departure, but there sure wasn’t any disappointment either. Within the family, the knowledge that I was now master of the suicide sword was well known. Because they were kin, or had given some assurance at some point to my parents, I had little worry that the knowledge would ever leave the family circle, but I could see that it made them uncomfortable. I was pretty sure no one was going to miss having the Una-Mor nearby.
I wandered for what seemed like forever. It was months, but it could have easily been years. A few days here, a few days there, hop a charter to the next island, and do it all over again. There were a million places to hide, and those were the ones in plain sight. I debated day after day about how to find those who did not wish to be located, wondering at the same time if they weren’t the people in front of me and I just didn’t know it. After all, I don’t look like a dragon, but I am.
I took the proverbial ‘road less traveled’ and only managed to get lost. I asked myself repeatedly, both aloud and in thought, where would I go if I did not want to be found? The easy, obvious answer was the end of the world, as if such a destination was possible. More than once I raged at the memory of the day my mother died. “Find them. Remember, and find them you said. How, would have been helpful.”
Anger did nothing. Weeping did nothing. Leaving the beaten paths and looking in places where no one appeared to have been, only got me to places where no one had been. I had no more idea where to look than I’d had any previous inkling that I was anything other than what I believed myself to be. I was no one, in the middle of nowhere, with no clue.
Late in the season, the temperatures dropping daily, I overheard a conversation as I passed.
“Was that Nooma?” A woman whispered.
“No. It can’t be. Nooma is dead.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure she isn’t back?”
“If she is back, she sure in Hades wouldn’t be walking around here. She’s not that stupid. She’d be up at the camp where she is protected. No, it is not Nooma. It can’t be.” The male hissed back irritatedly.
I was around the corner, holding my breath waiting to hear more. Nothing more came...just a long stretch of quiet, and more questions. Who was Nooma? Why do I look like her, am I related? And, why do they think that she’s dead? I already knew I was immortal by this time, so the idea of being gone and returning didn’t faze me. Next on the list though, what camp? Where?
I knew I was on the Isle of Skye, part of the Inner Hebrides, but I was also near the outer bank. Was the camp farther north on this island? Or, was it situated somewhere on any one of the smaller ones that made up the Outer Hebrides? ‘Up’ at the camp seemed to infer north, or at the very least, a higher elevation. Which was it? I was going to have to hang around, and probably do more eavesdropping than I was comfortable with to find out. It was the only clue I had, though if it was a clue that mattered, I hardly knew.
Third Year
THANKFULLY, SKYE IS a large place. I spent several weeks crisscrossing between every small town within ten kilometers of the one where I had heard the conversation about Nooma. Samhain was coming soon. I was sporting more than a little melancholy at being away from the only home I had ever known. This time of year was filled with traditions that I would miss dearly. Not that I couldn’t observe them on my own, there was just something significantly lacking to consider it.
I was going to have to stop and shop soon. Traveling light meant that I was ill-prepared for the coming cold, and it was coming fast. I decided to hold off until I reached the small town where I had been when I overheard the conversation. Every other place I had been was just one small town or another. There had not been so much as a glimmer of recognition from anyone I had noticed. If anyone had noticed me, they had done a far better job of hiding it.
It was late when I arrived. Surprisingly, I managed to find a second inn on the outskirts of the small town. I was hoping to trigger some kind of recognition again. Though the attendant at the other inn had been kind, to them I was just another traveler. Likewise, the clerk at the desk gave no indication of anything other than business as usual when I arrived. I was checked in and given a key with all the formality that one would expect. I mentally added it to the loss column.
The next morning, I heard the soft gasp as I passed to the breakfast room. It took everything in me to keep moving instead of stopping and turning to see whom it came from. Maybe this wasn’t a loss after all.
It was extremely difficult to focus on eating breakfast, even though it was delicious. Seated in the far corner of the room gave me a line of sight out the door, but not one to the front desk. I didn’t actually know if it was an employee or someone else, but the sound had come from that general direction. I had a latent hope that they were trying to see me just as much as I was trying to see them. That hope was making it incredibly hard to act normal.
Finishing, I cleared my trash and tried to move around the room. I didn’t want to be obvious as I looked for a better point to observe from for my next meal. Sadly, there really wasn’t one. The inn was little more than a small house. The breakfast room was essentially a reconfigured dining room from the repurposed floor plan. While the walls had been opened in places, there were some things structurally that could not be changed. If I wanted to be able to watch the comings and goings from the front desk, I would almost need to park in the lobby, which was basically the front hall.
I did my best to walk back through appearing disinterested or distracted. I was already past the vacant desk space before I thought to stop and make a request. But, what request could I possibly make? I came up empty. I would have to think about this before coming back to try again.
The mother of all face palm moments hit as soon as I closed the door to my room behind me. I needed to go shopping for a warmer coat. I probably needed better shoes too. Either of these two things could easily have become the reason I stopped to ask for recommendations. But no, I was too busy out thinking myself to think clearly.
It was still early. I would expect any of the local shops would not open until midmorning, so I had at least that long to plan how I would approach the questions. And, to make a few notes about how to observe, without appearing to be a psycho killer looking for a victim. I needed to figure out how to relax and tone it down a notch too. I was pretty sure at this point, what I hoped would come across as a friendly smile, would somehow look more like a rabid dog.
By ten o’clock it was now or never. I tucked the hollowed-out walking stick that contained the Una-Mor into the back corner of the closet, shuffling the few hangers hap-hazard in front of it. I carefully tucked one of the corners of an empty hanger into a shirt that hung on another. If anyone would move them, or adjust them, it would be set to right easily enough. Sadly, if anyone did so, and tried to retrieve the sword from the stick, it would not be the hanger that gave them away.
Locking the door, I plastered the best version of curious on my face I could muster and headed for the lobby. The man at the desk appeared to be in his thirties, though something inside me said he was much older. I didn’t need to know how to be a dragon to recognize an immortal, or someone who was other. He was definitely other. If he was the source of the earlier gasp, he gave nothing away now.
As I approached, he glanced up, smiled, and set down what he was doing to wait.
“Good morning.” I opened several steps before reaching the counter.
“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“Shopping.” I announced before I giggled at the confused look on his face. It was exactly what I was hoping for.
“Pardon?” He responded, regaining his composure.
“I’m afraid I need to go shopping.”
“Afraid?”
“Oh it’s a dreadful task. I simply loathe it, but as I am not prepared for the weather here, I see no alternative.” I offered. “I’m hoping you can direct me to a vendor that would be able to accommodate all of the purchases I require. I don’t really want to have to visit multiple shops, though if needs be, I will. Is there such a place here nearby?”
He was good. I could tell that he was studying me, though his expression didn’t slip much. Only the slightest narrowing of his eyes gave him away. If he had any suspicions as to what I was or was not, he did manage to keep it to himself.
“Perhaps if you tell me what it is you are looking for, I can better direct you.” He offered succinctly.
I rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders for effect. “Yes, I do suppose that would help, wouldn’t it?” I lifted open the lapel of my jacket. “I need something that is much warmer than this. And,” I looked down at my feet, noting that he leaned forward to do the same over the counter, “probably some better footwear.”
When he had leaned back, and we were once again face to face across the desk, he responded. “I’m afraid I have some good news, but also some bad news. Which would you prefer?”
Something in the back of my mind kicked up a conversation with my father from years ago. The choice between good news and bad news is a way to evaluate people. Which they choose to hear first can be an indication of their demeanor, their outlook, or their potential reaction. Why that conversation popped into my head at that moment, I couldn’t say. But, it did, and for whatever reason it had, I would heed the warning not to reveal too much. “As it is your news, I will let you gauge which should be shared first.” I answered, mentally congratulating myself at the cunning dodge.
“As you wish.” He smiled, genuflecting slightly. “You will in fact have to visit two separate establishments. The good news is they are side-by-side, it will not be a hardship to find them.”
I would have to remember what my father said about the person who gave, or heard, bad news first. I smiled and nodded. “Then I will have to visit them both. If you could please direct me or offer a map, I will leave you to your tasks.”
His instructions were clear and concise. Stepping out the front door, I internally applauded my performance. I had done a fairly good job of channeling Enid for the conversation, at least I thought so. The overly formal, if somewhat melodramatic, was better than the rambling, floundering I was sure I would have done as myself. If nothing else, I chose to believe that it left him as uncertain of whom he was dealing with as I always felt dealing with her.
As described, both stores were side-by-side and easy to find. I opted for footwear first before having the additional bulk of a heavier coat to deal with. I noticed, more than once, a sideways glance from another woman in the store. I made a mental note of her face for later. The second shop was sparse, and empty of customers. I shuffled through the offerings fairly quickly, selected a coat whose tag advertised warmth without weight, and headed for the counter. The female behind the register was also, like the inn clerk, obviously other. She however, was young.
“Noo-ice day isn’t it?” She stammered.
I didn’t miss the mid-word correction. I also didn’t miss just how close the opening syllable was to possibly be ‘Nooma.’ Digging my nails into the palms of my hands, I resisted the urge to ask about it. “Yes, it is. Do you know if this coat is as warm as the tag wants me to believe?”
“Until about January.” She giggled.
“January?”
“Yes ma’am. This one is quite warm, but come January, you might want to carry a blast furnace and a cord of wood with you as well. There are few coats that alone can withstand the bitter that comes in January.” She smiled broadly.
“I see. I don’t believe I will still be here in January, but if that changes I’ll be back so you can direct me to the store that carries a blast furnace.” I smiled back.
“Personally,” she dropped her voice as she leaned in, “I would just suggest you stay inside. If you don’t have to be out, don’t be out. It’s easier.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll put in my order now then for a hot tub and a cabana boy.”
Her smile was brilliant as it lit her eyes. “If you find someplace that delivers that, I’ll be coming to see you. Now, were you planning to wear this out, or would you like me to wrap it up?”
BACK AT THE INN, THE front desk was once again empty. Inside my room, I paused, noticing immediately that the bed had been made. There were no bodies on the floor, so I knew the sword had not been touched. But, had it been found?
Opening the closet door, the walking stick was still propped in the far corner where I had left it, but the hangers on the rod all hung neatly side-by-side. The shrieking alarm inside my head should have alerted half the isle. As it was, I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from mimicking the sound only I could hear. This was bad.
It took several minutes before I could give myself the mental shake down necessary to stop the panic attack before it became disabling. Perhaps it was the maid. They might just as routinely straighten the closet as they did the bed they would be back to turn down later this evening. I could be making far more of this than there was to find. Could be...I also could be spot on with the encroaching worry that was morphing to fear as I stood with the closet door open, looking at a nondescript walking stick.
I was no closer to calm when I closed the closet. My adrenaline response was in overdrive. Standing, staring into the two by two space was going to accomplish nothing. I managed a couple of steps before the hairs at the nape of my neck warned me too late. I was momentarily confused by the sudden mid-day eclipse and the sharp burning pain between my spine and shoulder blade. I’d have time to think about them both later.
Nooma
I LOVE, TRULY love the smell of petrichor. There is no other scent in the world that soothes the way it can. The mildew-y, moldy smell of wet and dirty basement are not even a poor relation’s substitute. If I had to guess, I was not too far from where I had been. The briny, brisk sea air permeated everything in the region. The cold, muddy confines of my present whereabouts could not mask that, even as I could discern the other scents in the mixture as coal, old oil, and something seriously close to dirty socks.
I kept my eyes closed, and let my other senses do the investigating. Surprisingly, I could not identify any restraints whatsoever. I also could not claim that anyone else was nearby. I heard no voices, and not even so much as breathing in the immediate area besides my own. Wherever I was, whomever had placed me here believed that it was sufficient. It was interesting to consider. That assessment would have to wait for visual confirmation though. For now, I wanted a few more moments to figure out where I was, and what was going on, without giving away that I was awake and alert.
The point in my back that had burned earlier was now a growing, annoying itch. It felt as though whatever it was, was somehow being purged from my skin. Why it burned, I couldn’t say. What I could say, was I was only going to have a few moments more before I was going to have to find a way to scratch. Ignoring it was not working, and remaining still was quickly becoming impossible.
I tucked the side edge of my tongue between my teeth and bit down firmly. It was the only motion I could think of that would possibly be undetected if I was being watched. I couldn’t hear anyone, but that did not mean I was not being observed. It bought me a small amount of time. I ran through the list of things I was, and was not hearing as quickly as possible before I would have to
give myself away.
I could hear water running through the plumbing around and above me. I was definitely in a lower level area. I did not hear any open running water nearby however. Wherever I was, was distinctly damp, but it did not seem to have a source, at least not one I could identify by sound. It occurred to me that if I could hear the plumbing above and around me then someone above or around me could hear me if I decided to call out. It raised a new question about where exactly I was, and whose company I was in. I was not bound, not in a sound controlled space, and as near as I could tell, not being guarded, at least not within the immediate area.
I decided I would wait to feel around until after I could have my eyes open to observe. If I was being watched, any movement to feel around would certainly give away that I was awake. I could at least be alert while that happened. I determined I knew all I was going to know with my eyes closed. I had no intention of sticking my tongue out to try and lick the surfaces, as if somehow that would magically give me any information, or that I could identify much by taste anyway. I certainly was not that talented. And, that movement would surely be able to be seen too.
I carefully cracked my eyelids for a look around. Seeing no one, I dealt with the most immediate need I had, backed against the stone wall, and worked to find a piece that could connect with, and scratch the point I could not reach. It was bliss.
I could easily have continued for an hour. The area around the initial point, I was certain without looking, was red and abraded. Hopefully, one day I would find out what it was and avoid it forever. The entire left side of my back felt like the skin was shifting and crawling over the bone now.
Abruptly, I had company, male company. And, someone I recognized.
