Despite how gross I am from all of that, Em cares little when she throws her arms around me, when she too is already covered, and her sword clashes against mine as it falls to the ground. And, because I am in need of a hug just as much as her, it is not long before my blade finds a place in the sand too. Her tears mix with the blood, when all that has happened prior to this fight was enough to break us all mentally, but this was what finally sent her, and even me, over the edge, I think. She cries almost as much as she did when Gorm lay dying in front of us, and that is why I hold her for so long that the rest of the men have time to gather themselves. Yemi even passes behind Em and asks me a question as my head pokes over her shoulder.
"You are safe, yes?"
I only nod before he walks any further, and all that leaves me to do is maintain my grip of Em and watch what the other men do. Some of the men drop to the sand on their knees, truly broken, while others sit normally but hide their faces in their hands, so that the other men may not see the expression or the tears that surface. A few others travel up the dunes around us, likely to see if there is anything of interest when, as unique as this pool is, it has only brought death, and Yemi, having lost one of his brothers, stands at the edge of that pit. I can only get an idea of how he is feeling when Em and I have calmed enough for me to take her hand, grab our swords, and head towards the pool too, and, even when we stand beside him, Yemi's expression does not change.
There is a deep sadness to his features, but an even deeper look to his eyes when they seem to be waiting for his brother or anyone else to rise to the surface. I think we all know anyone would be dead already if they managed to bubble up at all, and, due to that, I have to say something to Yemi.
"I'm sorry."
There is little I am responsible for here, besides forcing us all to continue this journey, and, while I am sorry that such actions lead to the death of someone else close to him, if I want to avoid the thought that I am indirectly responsible for his end, there is no better way to share my condolences, when I am too afraid to mention the loss of the man. For better or worse, Yemi seems to be thinking the same as he responds.
"We all knew the cost of what we are doing. I am only sad that I do not think I will ever be able to recover his body and give him a proper burial."
In a time like this, I struggle to remember how Yemi once said he wanted to buried, and, because he has shown small signs of his culture, I can imagine his brothers might want to be buried in a similar fashion to whatever he wanted, not that the manner of how it happens truly matters when any form of burial helps us all through the grieving process. And, because that will never happen, all I have to give Yemi in response is a sigh that is interrupted by shouting in the distance. It is impossible to tell what is happening when the voice sounds to be coming from over the top of one of the dunes in front of us, but, as the shouts grow closer and many of us run closer to them at the same time, one of the remaining men eventually appears atop of the dune with what sounds like good news, or anything at all, to show us.
"OVER HERE!"
When Em, Yemi, and I reach the top, it is immediately clear why the man yells, and it is so wonderful that I even manage a laugh, as close as something so beautiful is to that pit of death behind us now. Within another pool, there is just enough water, shimmering in the sun, that we all could find somewhere to float in it, but, rather than dive in it or rush to it knowing what happened before, we move cautiously and think about how will we take our time to wet out throats, wash off, and hopefully make it back towards green earth once we have finished what we came here to do. And, in regards to that thought, the first sign of what we are looking for can just be seen on the horizon, in the form of another dark mountain, because of how high this dune lifts into the sky, but, for the time being, I let it be just another part of the skyline when there is much else to do.
After we approach the water and make certain that nothing disturbing awaits, we settle ourselves, and what little we have left, after we recover the few carts that we left several dunes back. And, while the rest of the men get to boiling the water even though it is so hot from the heat of this damn desert that it might already be safe to drink, Em and I set out to put up a tent with one specific purpose, when both of us are covered in so much gunk that we barely want to look at one another. Doing so does not take long, and carrying several buckets of water into the fixed tent takes much more time. But, when we have enough water inside for us to wash off, and many others after us, I close the flap to the tent and only wish I had a sign that says Keep Out with what comes.
I fear taking my clothes off so quick, when they are just as gross as my skin, so, feeling some sort of high from having found what we were looking for, I simply take an entire bucket, lift it over my head, and empty it onto myself. That wastes so much, but, right now, I cannot be bothered to do anything else. All the water flowing down on me cleans the sand, sweat, and blood from both my clothes and my body, and, with how it is just warm enough to not chill too much but also relieve my being of the hot sun, many thoughts wash themselves out of my mind too. The hopelessness of all we have lost goes with all it came with. The fear of losing everyone, of failing to achieve what we set out to do when we have lost so many, the images of our men dying right in front of me as they choked to death, it is all gone for a time now that we all have something to be truly happy about, and all I have left to get rid of is my clothes, so I can let them dry and get at the flesh underneath.
Em has already done the same as me, drenching herself with another bucket, and, while I take off my jacket and shirt and move them over to where we have left our swords that probably need a wash as well, she loses her clothes too, as I lose the rest of mine. And, soon enough, all that is left is the sight of one another and the wet sand underneath our feet. Her wet hair gets in the way as I try to kiss her, not minding how awful we both smell when we have yet to scrub anything else, but it bothers neither of us as the kisses go on for some time, only for us to end up kissing each other more than we ever have. Such moments have been shared in the past, but never have they been shared for minutes at a time, so long that there seems to be no end to our feelings for one another. And, just as I pull away to laugh with happiness and catch my breath, she has something to say that makes my heart skip a beat.
"I love you."
We have known each other for many months now, and endured so much together, but the thought had yet to cross my mind. Though, she's got it right. Right now, it is more obvious than ever, that this is how we really feel about one another, so, instead of standing around so awkwardly anymore that Em might think I am terrified of commitment, I share some of the same words.
"I will always love you too."
I do not know why I say it that way, maybe because, deep down inside, I fear what might happen during our final fight, but, rather than dwell on it, I break the stare we have on one another by pulling her close and wrapping my arms around her back, while her breasts press against my chest. For a time, nothing more happens, and, when time is up, I am glad to know that we'd both rather finish washing off than do anything else. So, for the next few minutes, we do so. We stand back to back, to not disturb one another or peep more than we should, and that only changes when we both demand help washing our backs, especially as my body is still so sore I can barely reach over my shoulder to remove my sword when I have to. After Em is done helping me, I try to help her, but only end up fighting with the hair trailing down her back, so, soon enough, she grabs hold of it all, pulls it over her shoulder, wrings it out, and offers me a smile while I finish up.
When we are done, we both struggle to dry with extra fabric that scratches our skin more than it dries us, but, thankfully, enough time has passed that our clothes are dry enough to put back on. In doing so and tightening our sheaths again, we share another laugh, and, near the tent flap, we share one, final kiss for now and then join the rest of the men, out under another setting sun. The fires they have set up help when the scorching hea
t becomes chilling cold, now that the wind is on the rise, but they help further dry our clothes too, before what water is left in them freezes over.
Em and I have enough to celebrate already, and the rest of the men seem to be doing the same, now that the camp is set up. I find Yemi near ours while Em goes off to enjoy herself, and I would assume he was the one to set up the tent that Em and I share, and his own now. How he did so with one arm, I will never know, so, when he has a comment like he always does, it does not bother me much.
"You two took your time."
He says so playfully, in jest, but there still is not much for me to say back.
"Naturally."
He only has one request, related to that.
"As long as there is enough water left."
I'm certain there is enough left for many weeks if we take some with us when we eventually leave, but, now that I have caught him in a quiet moment when we are not trying to kill each other, I have a couple of questions to ask.
"How are you feeling?"
At first, he looks like he does not believe my words, or has not heard those words in some time, so, while I stand silent waiting for a response, he understands that I'm being serious, and gives me his best answer along with a pained smile.
"Better."
I cannot expect much else with all that has happened, but, with that answer at least, I am happy moving on and asking something that is far less important, but still on my mind.
"You know, we have traveled so far through this desert, and not once have we seen any signs of life. I can understand why, but I truly hoped to see something by now. Do your people not have castles or anything of the sort? Or have they all grown tired of this damned sun too?"
He manages a laugh after he looks up into the sky and briefly glances at the different kind of giant watching over us, and an answer only comes after he looks back towards me.
"Would you believe me if I told you I was a prince in these lands?"
Because Yemi chuckles after something so ridiculous, I dismiss the possibility faster than I should, but it does make me think about how I have yet to talk much about my past with him, after so long. But, rather than brag about how I am a prince of what is likely nothing but corpses now, I dismiss his thoughts.
"Probably not."
He scoffs as he moves from the entrance of his tent over to the side, knowing I still follow him with my eyes, so he finally answers what I asked before.
"My people did have castles the last time I saw them. That may still be out here. Good luck finding them, though."
He wishes me luck in a way that demands more thoughts, so I continue.
"Why is that?"
His answer is simple.
"We are not a people that want to be found, or we were once upon a time. I would assume the same is true after all these years, since I have seen no signs either."
I hope he would have told me prior to this if he had seen any, but I do not dwell on that much when he has been standing with his hand atop another crate for a few minutes now. So, instead, I bother him about its contents.
"What are you hiding here?"
Yemi's face lights up so much that I would not be surprised if he has been waiting for that question his entire life, and he is so excited that he cannot wait until he has spoken two words before he opens it.
"A surprise."
It is clear as day, or as clear as the bottles inside of the crate he has been hiding this entire time, what he has, for there is enough alcohol left to have many more celebrations. Yet, for a moment, I question my mind why they have been hidden. Would he have brought them out if we really were done for? Would the liquor replace the water that should be running through our body, enough to keep us alive? Such thoughts make me both laugh and tear up a little, for so many different reasons, but, before either set of feelings wins, Yemi takes out a bottle and hands it to me, then takes one for himself, and demands that we each open our own, which he does with his poor teeth.
"To life."
A toast, out in the middle of this damned desert, when so many have already lost their lives, makes me so sad for a moment until I understand why. We are still alive, after all that has happened, so, rather than let my spirits go down when there are enough spirits for us all in a wooden box, I turn the sadness into a laugh, open my bottle, and repeat his words while I cannot think about anything other than the possibility of my life ending tomorrow.
"To life."
We clink our bottles, and he has already downed half of his before I have barely taken a sip. And, as soon as he has wiped his lips with the only hand he has to hold his bottle, he asks me something that indicates how he too is thinking about the fates that lie ahead for us all, if only in the back of his mind when alcohol is all he thinks about with the rest of his head.
"You have many different names, my friend. Fjord, boy, Aedan... But which one do you want to be remembered by?"
Once again, I am forced to think about how I have told him so little about myself, so I can only imagine he knows of my real name after having heard it spouted by Em or even Gorm at some point. But, rather than question the name he heard, Yemi has never asked about it, and, while I can hope that is just because he does not care or because that is what these people do, when we do not even need names at all when we are so free, I do not know. I am just certain that, no matter what happens, we are free. Free from most of life's worry, free of our existence on this plane of the world if we die today, tomorrow, or whenever we are old enough, and, because none of this truly matters, I give the man an answer that explains some of what I have hidden for so long.
"Aedan is the name my mother and father chose for me, and I am sorry I hid that from you and everyone else for so long. I guess I was afraid of who I once was."
I phrase what I last say in a way I never have before. Prior to this, it has always been that I was afraid of them finding out who I once was, but to say that it was me who was afraid of who I once was is not a lie. I can be both afraid of who I once was and afraid of them finding that out. I think just saying that I am afraid of who I once was covers both too, and how bad I just wanted to let go of my past and find myself on my own, or with the help of this journey. And, because my apology sounded so sorrowful when we should be doing nothing but celebrating, Yemi finishes his first bottle, tosses it to the sand, puts his hand on my shoulder, and speaks before he grabs another.
"It is okay. You know us well. You lead us now, and you remember what Gorm always said. Our names do not matter. I am not even sure why I bothered you about it. Curiosity, maybe, but also for a bit of fun. Think about it..."
He stops to grab another bottle first, since he cannot hold my shoulder and get another at the same time anymore, and once he has opened it with what is left of his teeth, he downs most of it in one gulp and shares something beautiful.
"Aedan Fjord, a new name to always remember who you once were and who you are now."
The smile on his lips is bigger than I have ever seen up until now, so strong my own smile almost mirrors it, and, after he has tried to get the last few drops out of his bottle, he shares a title that I know will last for generations beyond my death.
"Aedan Fjord, the boy who killed more giants than fingers on his hands."
He then has to stop mid-laugh to offer the rest of his thoughts.
"I do not think I am fit to fight giants anymore, so, whatever happens, I will make sure the whole world knows who you are."
It is nice to hear him say are instead of were, to show that he thinks my end is not near, but I am not sure if he walks away laughing some more—after he has tossed his second bottle to the sand and grabbed his third—because he loves the sound of his own idea so much or because he now realizes, painfully, that some people have to live with less than ten fingers like he does now. So, while I try to find Em, I just pray that the alcohol I hear him offer to the others is enough to drown his sorrows and those of all our brothers. Such a thought can be sad when we should n
ot rely on such to find happiness, but they all deserve a pass with what has happened.
While I walk to the edge of the camp the men have set up well enough, I still struggle to find Em, and assume that she has not mixed with the rest of them in the center, so it is only when I hear a faint whistle that I find her. That noise could be anyone trying to get the attention of Yemi's children, wherever they are, but, this time, it is Em trying to get my attention from the top of the tall dune we crossed to find all the water here. And, with how tired I am getting already, I struggle to get up to her, but, when I do through many of her laughs at my failures, I am even more tired, so much so that I take one, last look at the mountain still visible in the distance with what little light we have, and then sit down beside her and the fire she has built.
Though, after I have sunk the bottle I managed to carry up the dunes with me into the sand, I briefly notice how much of the contents are missing from it, find the smell of it on my clothes, and hope she does not get mad at me by thinking I have drunk so much already. Because, within minutes, my head is on her lap, her hand is scratching my scalp and playing with my hair, and I find rest willfully, and happily.
It is not long before dreams find their way into my head, and what they are made up of is grander than any dream I have ever had. In them, I wake up to Em every day, back inside of a room that once would have been a nightmare if my sleep brought me into it. It is the same room I grew up in, once filled with almost nothing besides my bed, but, now, it is a little bigger to fit the two of us. And, on the wall I once placed my own armor and weapons upon, the weapons of lost friends now hang. Beside the grappling gloves we both had, Abraham's sword, one of Yemi's blades, and Gorm's axe fit well mounted on the worn stone, to remind us where we have been in another life.
Every morning, we then get dressed in the same clothes we wear now, or at least the same style because some of the blood in mine will never wash out, and, though life is far more peaceful, she and I still put our sheaths on, as husband and wife. But rather than fight giants like we have these past few months, we fight to lead a kingdom in the same seat my father once sat upon, side by side. I sit in the same chair he once sat in without that damn tray of course—even though it saved my life once upon a time when some peasants tried to skewer me like meat on a rotating spit—and a cushion has been sewn into it because so much grappling in the past has left my back a little sore, and a new chair has been made for Em too.
No Name for the Free Page 24
