by Sam Farren
“Where is she now?” I heard Reis ask, voice muffled by the wall.
“At the apartment. I am using the bitterwillow Kouris is using when the people who are coming to her, they are in so much pain they are needing help to sleep,” Akela replied.
“What a fucking mess,” they grumbled. “Alright. Providing she's still there, I need you to go get her and take her straight down to the jail. Don't reckon we need to be asking too many questions in a case like this, do we? Don't wanna be bothering Rowan just yet, and you walked in on it. You must've seen enough.”
If Akela answered, it was only through a nod or the shake of her head. She left without a word, and I laid there, staring and staring at the wall, waiting for her to return and tell Reis that the tea hadn't been strong enough; Katja was nowhere to be found, out amidst Mahon with only one thing on her mind.
Reis came in, knocked first, and left a tray of food, water and bitterwillow at the foot of my bed. I waited until they were out of the room before reaching for it, abruptly reminded of how hungry I was, how many days it'd been since I last ate. I tore the bread apart and gulped down a mouthful, shuddering when I felt it slide through my chest.
I threw the rest of the bread against the wall without knowing why and drank enough to drown in. I chewed on the bitterwillow, chewed on it though the pain had already been washed away, and stared at the wall, not wanting to turn around, lest I find myself back in Katja's apartment.
An hour passed before Akela returned. I screwed my eyes shut, straining to hear the words that had made a mess of my mind, but all she said was, “It is done.”
“With Rowan being what she is and the amount of blood on her, I'm guessing your place is a mess. I understand if you don't want to go back there,” Reis said, “Go to any of the inns in town. Tell 'em I sent you and there won't be a problem. I'll figure out something for you and Atthis in the morning.”
I clasped my pillow over my ears, deafening myself to whatever else they said. Atthis. Atthis was going to find out. Kouris, too. They'd know; everyone in Mahon would. It didn't matter if nobody told them. I was glowing bright, wearing my insides across my skin. I couldn't hide that from them, not unless I stayed there, in that room, and that was hardly any better than still being chained to Katja's stove.
She'd won. Whatever it was she'd wanted from me, she had it.
In the hours that followed, I rolled onto my back, and stared blankly at the walls in an effort to convince myself the room was mine. Nothing had changed; it was just as I'd left it. Holding my hands up, I watched the eerie light rush beneath the surface of my skin, and when it wouldn't stop, I laid on my side, clutching my wrist.
It was dark outside and light in my room by the time Kouris returned. The moment I heard her voice I was angry. Angry she hadn't been there, angry she hadn't done the impossible and known that I needed her, and I dug my nails into the back of my hand as her voice boomed out.
“You'll never guess what was happening down at the docks today,” she said, chuckling. “Tae had been waiting for a—”
“Kouris,” Reis said, cutting her off.
“She'd been waiting for a delivery to come in, but—”
“Kouris,” Reis tried again. “We need to talk. Outside, now.”
Kouris knew when to listen to Reis. I pulled the pillow back around my head though I knew they were too far away for me to hear them, wanting to somehow deafen myself to the awareness that Kouris was finding out what had happened to me. What would she think? That it was my fault for being alone with Katja, for putting myself in that position? I should never have used my powers in front of her, should never have been so forceful in making my point.
Her knuckles rapped at the door sooner than I'd expected them to, and I wasn't ready to face her. I wasn't ready for the look in her eyes that meant she knew, but a noise forced itself from my throat, and Kouris took that to mean that she could come in.
I'd expected anger. I'd expected her to growl and charge against the walls, scraping ruts into the wood with her horns, but she crouched down, making herself as small as she could, all of the gold washed out of her eyes.
“Yrval...” she said, voice cracking. “I'm so sorry. I should've been there.”
She was right. She should've been there.
Someone should've been there. Anyone. I should never have had to face that alone, yet how was Kouris to know what I was going through? I'd left with a friend and I'd been gone for days, just as I always had in the past. Katja knew what she was doing. Knew that Kouris wouldn't think to look for me.
I sat up, rubbing my hands against my face.
Easing herself to her full height, Kouris opened up her arms and I wanted nothing more than to rush into them. I wanted to cling to her and feel her arms wrapped tightly around me as I listened to her hearts pounding, wanted to know that I was safe, that I was free, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Not even towards Kouris, who I trusted over all others.
“I need to...” I murmured, running my fingers over my bloodied arms and face, pulling the scraps of my shirt back over my stomach. “Need to wash.”
“Aye,” Kouris said, arms falling back to her sides a moment later.
I worked on swinging my legs over the side of the bed while Kouris picked out some whole, clean clothes. Usually she'd sew up anything I'd torn and patch up worn fabric, but there was no saving what I was wearing. I found my feet more easily, this time, and Kouris gathered up the pieces of bread I'd thrown across the room without a single word.
I kept the blanket pulled around myself, sweltering as we made our way out of the hut. Night had fallen and the tavern lights had pulled the pirates towards them, but I couldn't risk them seeing something bright burning in the distance. I walked with the blanket pulled over my head, taking slow, unsteady steps, and let Kouris' shadow engulf me.
“... if I'd known. If I had any idea,” Kouris kept saying, “I would've been there in half a second, yrval. You've gotta believe me. I thought... thought you'd gone off with Akela after all.”
I nodded for her benefit, barely able to take in her words, barely able to register her hurt over my own. There was a rock pool minutes from the hut, creeping into a cave at the foot of the cliffs, but the journey there lasted a lifetime. I all but collapsed into the water once we reached it, and Kouris sat atop a rock with her back to me, giving me all the time I needed to peel my filthy clothes off and submerge as best I could in the shallow water.
The light spilling from my skin lit up the surface of the rock pool like a moon that had drifted too close, and I saw the blood clearly enough. I scrubbed at my arms and stomach until I was scratching, ducked my head under the water and pulled chunks of something from my hair, but no matter how thoroughly I cleaned myself, an oily film continued to cling to my skin. In the end I gave up and pulled myself onto the rocks, putting on the clothes Kouris had brought for me without waiting until I was properly dry.
I stared out at the ocean, and Kouris kept her back to me until I spoke up.
“... I miss Claire,” I said, words trickling out of me.
“Haven't heard you mention her in a good long while,” Kouris said, leaning forward so that her elbows were rested on her knees. “I miss her too, though. I've made a lot of friends in all my years, but she's one that I won't ever be forgetting.”
“I just,” I said, plunging my hands back into the water. “I keep thinking about how scared she must've been, at the end. When everything in Isin came crashing down, when there was nothing but fire. We left her alone to face that. I left her alone. I should've been with her that morning, but I... I loved her and I never said anything.”
“Come now, yrval,” Kouris said, trying to soothe what roiled within me with mere words, “We don't know that she's—”
“You don't think she's dead?” I asked, voice rising, trembling. “You were there, Kouris. You saw what became of Isin. Do you really think Claire would run away if there were still dragons there? If people still need help?”
There was nothing Kouris could say. Slumping forward, I pressed my forehead to my knees, shaking, not wanting Kouris to reach out to me, but not wanting her to stay still, either. I raked up small stones and smooth shells from the bed of the rock pool and clutched them in my fists, reminding myself that I had to breathe, I had to breathe, even if I didn't need to.
“Charley's dead too, isn't he,” I grumbled into my lap.
Kouris moved closer, close enough to place her hand on the rock next to mine.
“I'm here if you need me, yrval. I won't be going anywhere.”
I couldn't bring myself to take her hand, but the fact that it was there was enough. I covered myself with the blanket as we headed back to the hut, dropped it on the floor and collapsed into my bed. Kouris hovered in the doorway, holding back her goodnight, and when I fixed my eyes on her and could neither bring myself to ask her to stay or leave, she settled halfway between the bed and the doorframe.
Hours passed and I stared at the ceiling, no strength left inside of me to stay awake with; yet every time I closed my eyes, I found it impossible to mute my mind. It wasn't that I was afraid of sleep. I just...
I didn't want to drift into that darkness again.
“Kouris?” I whispered, not waiting for a reply. “When you were beheaded, you saw something, didn't you?”
The floorboards creaked as she turned towards me, face lit up by my skin.
“Aye,” she replied, “There was something there, alright. Trees and sunlight and a hundred other things it hurts to think about.”
I dropped my arm off the side of the bed and Kouris wrapped her fingers around my hand, holding on until dawn broke and I drifted off to sleep.
*
For a month, I stayed in the hut, occasionally heading out in the dead of night to sink into the rock pool. I helped Reis out with accounts, fetched whatever they needed from around the hut, and took it upon myself to make every meal. The glow beneath my skin dimmed but wouldn't fade completely, no matter how I tried snuffing it out; holding my breath didn't work, and neither did sitting out on the edge of the pier during a storm; and eventually, I began to forget it was there.
Until I was faced with the prospect of anyone else seeing me.
For a month, I'd hidden away in my room every time somebody came around. Atthis visited once a week, asking after me, and though there was no anger in his voice, no blame directed at me, I couldn't bring myself to face him. I'd thought I'd be able to be around Akela, but with every day that passed, I became more and more aware of what she'd seen, and began to imagine what she'd think the next time she laid eyes on me. Kouris told me that people asked after me around the docks and taverns, but I was more reluctant than ever to let them know what I was.
I'd intended to stay inside until I felt better, but that was a vague, unattainable concept. Nothing changed within the burrows driven into my head, the paths that thoughts flowed through, and every morning when I woke – when I so rarely managed to sleep for more than an hour – I grasped at the chains that were no longer around my wrists.
It was only the ocean that drew me out. Listening to the wind on the waves wasn't enough for me anymore; I missed feeling it surge and pulse beneath my body. When I told Kouris that I thought I might try fishing, so long as no one else was around, she was only too eager to help. She couldn't stay inside with me forever, I knew that, and though I didn't resent the time she spent in Mahon, down at the docks and within the taverns, it did nothing to help with the tunnelling emptiness that opened up when the sun set.
“We've got a boat for the day. Not exactly hard when you drop Reis' name. Or when you're nearing on nine foot tall, I suppose,” she'd said. “Akela wants to know if she can come along. Says she'll make a cake for the occasion.”
I didn't have the words to express the fact that I didn't want her there, though I wanted her there, and in the end answered with a nod.
Akela brought the boat around the next morning. It would've been big enough for five people, had they all been human, and she'd packed it full of more ale and cake than we ever could've worked our way through. Steeling myself, I walked down the pier to jump onto the deck, and Akela grinned at me as though I wasn't broken, as though she wasn't angry that I'd avoided her for so long.
We headed out further from Port Mahon than we needed to. It faded in the distance until there was only the ocean all around us, gentle waves sparkling with light. The months of ash were drawing to a close, but the sun couldn't begin to contend with my skin, and for a few hours, the rest of the world disappeared while we drank and drank as we pretended to fish.
Kouris had always told me the pane didn't take well to water, but she had no problem stretching out on the deck and snoozing in the sun.
“Are you hearing Atthis' good news?” Akela asked me, idly pulling in her line and frowning at the untouched bait.
“Kouris said something about it. He got a letter from Kastelir, didn't he?” I said, and didn't have to force my hopes down. A letter was just that; a piece of parchment that wasn't going to get us home.
“Yes, yes! He is going to visit someone, I am not knowing who, hoping he is able to pay enough to send a letter, and it is turning out that they are already receiving one from Asar. Months ago! Of course, nobody is caring about such a letter, and Atthis, he has a little gold left. They are letting him take it,” Akela said, claiming another drink, “And are you knowing which part is the most amazing? It is from his son, Goblin. Now, the letter, it is not being addressed to Atthis, it is only a general plea for help, yes? But still. It is something!”
“I thought his son's name was Galal,” I said, scolding myself for not being able to muster the enthusiasm to give any other reply.
Shrugging, Akela said, “Ah, it is close enough. You see, Atthis' son, he is a soldier, and he is working for me. Very small, very cute, yes. One day, I am forgetting his name, and so I am using the first word that comes to mind. Somehow, it sticks! Secretly, I think perhaps Atthis, he is calling him Goblin by mistake, sometimes.
“He is very happy to be hearing this news. To know that his son is not only alive, but that there is a resistance in Kastelir!”
I hummed, hoping I sounded pleased for him. Hoping I was smiling. Atthis had received the sort of news that all of us were aching for, and I ought to have congratulated him. I should've found him and told him that I was happy for him, that there was hope anew for all of us within that letter. Instead, I'd only hid away from him.
“Atthis, he's... are you living with him?”
“Yes, yes. Reis, they are finding a new place for us. Another apartment,” Akela said, glancing away as we both felt a shift that could've turned the conversation sour. “It is strange, no? Here I am, living amongst pirates, sharing an apartment with a King! I am almost not believing it myself.”
I managed a smile at that. I didn't tell Akela I was glad that she was there, though I wanted to, and as she closed her eyes, leaning back and soaking up the sun, I moved to the stern of the boat.
Leaning over the edge, I trailed my fingers through the water. Kastelir wasn't gone, not all of it. There were still people fighting for it, people fighting the dragons, and all we had to do to get back was cross the ocean. All we had to do was keep sailing across the endless waters.
I moved onto my knees, stared down at my broken reflection, and gentle waves scattered misplaced light around. It was deeper here than it was around the rock pool. Deeper than it was anywhere. I leant down, arm slipping into the sea as the surface lapped around my elbow, and I thought that it might be deep enough to wash my skin clean of the light I was plagued with.
I didn't dive in. Not exactly. I let myself fall forward, and the moment I hit the water, the moment the sea wrapped all around me, I knew it didn't matter. I didn't have to be scared; I was stronger than all of this. Bubbles burst to life all around me, and I sunk until my body wouldn't carry me deeper, stretching out and kicking my legs, swimming down, down, into the darkness.
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My lungs ached for air but I didn't need it. They threatened to burst within my chest but my mind only became more focused on the bottom of the sea, the bottom of everything. I'd be able to reach it, if I only kept going.
But I thought of Kondo-Kana, drowned in the ocean.
Asar wasn't at the bottom of the sea. I wasn't ever going to reach it if I kept swimming down, down, trying to bury myself in the heart of Bosma.
I turned, trying to kick my way to the surface. The sun had become a tiny scrap of light on the surface and the pressure of the water was too much. The ocean groaned around me, content to hold me within it so long as I sunk like a stone. I fought with everything I had left within me to get to the surface, until that too ran out.
I gulped down a mouthful of sea water and Akela's hands wrapped around my wrists. She pulled me to the surface that had never been as far away as I thought, tugging me back onto the deck as I coughed up salt from my lungs.
“Northwood,” she demanded in a shout of a whisper, doing what she could to not wake Kouris. “What are you thinking you are doing?”
“I don't know! I fell,” I said, but she wasn't buying it.
“I am knowing what an accident looks like, Northwood. Why are you bringing us here to do such a thing?”
“I just—I don't know, I don't know,” I murmured, crouching down and gripping my head. “I think I just wanted to see if I could...”
Lowering herself so she was sat opposite me, Akela said, “I... I am a warrior. I am not knowing how it is best to be talking about these things. I know you are going through a lot, and it is difficult for me to know how to help, especially when I cannot be driving an axe into the problem. But you are talking to me if you need to, yes?”
No matter how I tried to fix my eyes on her, my gaze kept skidding away. Having Akela know what I'd just done – having her understand it better than I had – made me want to dive back into the ocean and never surface, but I breathed deep, not wanting to panic. Not wanting to wake Kouris.
