“I…” Her voice broke, so painful a sound that I wanted to reach out to her, but I held myself steady. “If you knew the heartache that loss brings, I don’t know that you would’ve made such a promise to me. I hate myself for forcing such a thing on you.”
“Please don’t,” I said, inching toward the sound of her voice. “I made that promise of my own free will. I wasn’t forced to it. You mustn’t think that.”
A cool, soft hand rested against my cheek, and her heated breath danced across my skin. “Why would you give up so much for a stranger, Lukas? How can you sacrifice your freedom for me?”
I closed my eyes, soaking in the strange comfort of her touch. I needed to tell her my reasons, as learning them later would dull any light she saw in me. If she knew from the start, perhaps she could eventually overlook my failure.
“Ten years ago this summer past, I was out with my mother, sister, and younger brother. We were gathering herbs and berries to store for winter months, when medicine was most needed. My mother was teaching us everything she knew, though it was my sister that took to it most. They’d gone up the mountain for springroot shoots, leaving me in a clearing with Anjei, as he was too young to tromp through the underbrush yet. I was given one instruction: to stay until they returned. A simple thing. Watch my brother. Watch the things we’d gathered.”
I turned away and rested my face in my hand, needing a moment to steel myself against the memory. “They’d been gone perhaps ten minutes when I saw the rabbit hop through the clearing. I thought if I caught it, we’d have a hearty stew for dinner, making the trip that much more productive. I decided if the animal went too far before I caught it, I’d come straight back and forget it. Rabbits were easy to catch, and Anjei was content to stack twigs and stones. What trouble could he possibly get into alone for a moment?” I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my worst failure coming to light in front of a woman I barely knew. “In my two-minute absence, my brother opened a bag of berries we’d collected. When prepared properly, they’re a powerful treatment for stomach maladies. But when eaten alone…”
Images from that day burned in my mind. The crimson stain on his hands, the traces of the berries like bright red gashes on his ashen lips, the unnatural stillness to his body as he lay on the mossy ground… Each flashed by in vivid detail, as though I were there still, screaming for my mother, crying for Anjei to wake, pleading with the spirits to forgive my stupid mistake and grant me another chance. I trembled at the memory, horrified with myself.
“The poison was too fast. Because I broke my promise, because I didn’t stay, Anjei was taken from the world. I won’t repeat my mistakes, Erata. I will stay, and nothing will sway me from it. I’ve been given a second opportunity, though I may not deserve it. I will stay because the cost was too great when I didn’t before.”
Gentle fingers beneath my chin turned my face to her. For once, I was glad for the darkness so I couldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes, or she my tears.
Without a word of warning, her lips brushed against mine, an unexpected kiss that stunned me senseless. It was sweet, filled with tender forgiveness I would never expect from another living soul.
“A child is not to be blamed for being short-sighted. To them, lifetimes can be measured in an hour, and consequences are abstract things without true meaning. I’ll not judge you for your youthful mistakes if you’ll not judge me for mine.”
My lungs expanded, demanding air I’d unwittingly denied them. Her closeness stole my rational mind, but her words held such compassion that I eased at the first sentiment. “I know nothing of your mistakes, but they cannot be worse than mine. I’d never think ill of you for them.”
She sighed and pulled away, her presence something I immediately missed. “If I could tell you, I would. You’ve no reason to trust me, but I promise that you’ll know my mistakes in time if you grant it to me.”
“I’ve nothing but time, Erata,” I said. “If the elk agrees to let me stay, that time is yours.”
Her fingertips traced the side of my face, and I held my breath, committing the sensation to memory. “I hope you think me worth the effort when it’s done, then.”
Before I could stop her, her weight lifted from the mattress and the door creaked open. “Goodnight, Lukas. Rest well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait,” I said. “Do you have to go?”
She laughed a little. “Will you miss me so much already?”
My cheeks heated. “I… I suppose so. Should I not miss you?”
“I’m glad you will, but I do have to leave. My time is up. Get some sleep. You have more work to do in the morning.”
“Is there any more I can do to convince the elk I’m worth keeping here? Anything else I might try?”
There was a pause as she thought. “Perhaps. Finish the story you’ve begun with her, and begin another. There’s one in the library, a Berninsh tale, that’s her favorite. Find The Shieldmaiden’s Quest, and you’ll soften her heart for certain.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Erata.”
“You’re welcome. Good night.”
With that, she was gone, leaving me to dreams of our brief kiss and a longing for her return.
* * * * *
“My arms are sore from the last solid week of work,” I said as I set the tea tray on the nightstand. “I don’t want you to think me lazy, but I thought maybe one day of reading only wouldn’t be so terrible. Do you mind?”
The elk tilted her head to one side and studied me from the bed. “I don’t mind…”
I smiled and nodded, then pointed at the two cups I brought in. “I made tea, but I wasn’t sure if you’d care for any. If not, I’ll have it myself, but you’re welcome to it if you’ve a taste for such a thing.”
She sniffed at it, but didn’t seem inclined one way or the other. With a shrug, I sat down at the foot of the mattress and settled in with the book, my back propped against the corner post.
By lunch, we finished with Torrin’s story, where he united the kingdom of Mer by taking up the crown his father had abandoned to be with his mother. The only remaining heir, Torrin accepted his destiny, taking a beautiful Mer maiden for his queen. The tale struck me at the end. He was a boy who only knew a human form, yet was completely accepting of his new life with a people unlike anything he’d experienced before.
“There’s more to this book than I realized.” I closed the cover and let my thoughts wander. “It’s not about pursuing adventure, so much as seeing the adventure life already is.”
The elk studied me, a considerate look in her eyes. “Explain…”
“Well, Torrin left his home searching for excitement and experiences, never realizing that those things were already a part of his life. He’d simply never seen it. Not once did he ask about the family he’d lost to the ocean waves. He assumed it was accidents aboard ships, not a war beneath the surface. And his own transformation from boy to man, not only in the physical sense, but within his mind and heart, he never once paused to appreciate how far he’d come in that way, only in the distance he traveled from the home he grew up in.”
Her barking laugh was only momentary. “Enjoy it for what it was…”
I shrugged. “If we don’t learn to look deeper than surface details, we don’t learn anything.”
“Sometimes a story is simply a story…”
Laughing a little, I nodded. “True. My mother always encouraged deeper evaluation of tales like this, though. I suppose it’s habit to think that way now.”
“We’ll need another then…” She laid back, gently adjusting the position of her splinted leg.
I slid off the bed and scooped up the tray. “Why don’t I get something to eat and find a new book? Something along the lines of this one again?”
“I’d like that…”
After leaving the elk with a smile, I hurried off to the kitchen. Lunch needed to be quick, as I wasn’t sure where to find The Shieldmaiden’s Quest. Taking a cold meat
sandwich with me, I ate as I searched for the book. It felt as though that story was the one thing that could make or break my promise. Minute after minute passed with no more results than when I began, however. Strange that I’d be so disappointed over it. After all, if the elk refused me, it wouldn’t be me that broke my promise. It nagged at me, though. A broken promise was a broken promise, regardless of the reason for it. The fault would rest with me, and I’d never forget it. If I couldn’t keep my word, I knew the guilt that would haunt me would be the kind that kept me from so much as sleeping. Erata was depending on me, and I refused to let her down.
A half hour passed before I stumbled across a possibility. A large tome of brown leather jutted out from a shelf, too big to be contained where it was placed. The title struck me as familiar, though I couldn’t place why at first. A History of Bernish Legends wasn’t the sort of book my mother would’ve owned, although she had a Valmyrian collection that might’ve been similar. Curious, I pulled the brown leather book down and flipped past the first two pages. There, a list of included tales gave me hope. Erata had said the story in question was Bernish, so it stood to reason I’d find it there. Halfway through, I found The Shieldmaiden’s Quest tucked between The Fairy Oath and The Sword of Unmaking. With a triumphant grin, I closed the cover and hurried back.
“I thought maybe you left…” the elk said, a sarcastic sting to her words.
“Clearly you’ve never taken a close look at the library,” I said. “There are so many books in there, it’s nearly impossible to choose one. But, I think I found one that will keep us busy for a while.”
When I turned the cover out to her, her eyes narrowed. “Why this one?”
I shrugged and set the book in my lap. “I haven’t heard many stories from other kingdoms, and I’ve never traveled outside of Valmyr. If I’m to stay with you, I can at least see the world through these words.”
“You wish to see the world?”
I made a face as I considered it. “I’d never really thought about it, to be honest. Then again, I never actively avoided it. Regardless, if I were to travel, at least the stories could help frame other cultures for me. Like a foundation of a house, I suppose.”
Her gaze rested on the book as she weighed my words. “That seems reasonable…”
“Let’s get started then,” I said with a smile as I opened it somewhere in the middle. As much as I wanted to skip straight to The Shieldmaiden’s Quest, I wanted to avoid suspicion more. “There was one on the list that caught my eye… Here it is. The Girl and the Golden Axe…”
* * * * *
The story worked exactly as Erata said it would. The Shieldmaiden’s Quest was the final tale of the evening, which ended abruptly as the elk shooed me out, the sides of her face wet with tears. As I closed the door to my bedroom, she sighed, her words caressing my face.
“You may stay, Lukas…”
When the lights went out that night, I could barely contain myself. I laid awake for what felt like hours, impatiently awaiting Erata’s arrival. When the door finally creaked open, I sat bolt upright, eager to share my news.
“She gave her permission,” I said, grinning, even though she couldn’t see it. “My promise stands.”
The door clicked closed, but there was no response from her. The silence stretched out for so long, I wondered if she hadn’t left.
“Erata?”
“I’m…” She paused. “I’m here.”
“Didn’t you hear me? The elk said I could stay.” My grin faded into a frown. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
She sighed as she eased into the bed beside me. “I suppose so. At least, I thought it was.”
My shoulders slumped. “But not anymore?”
Her hand closed over mine. “It’s more… I’m more concerned about you, is all. You can’t possibly understand what you’ve given up for me.”
Hesitant, I laid my other hand atop hers, engulfing her small fingers with mine. “I’m where I’m needed, that’s all that matters. If my presence will bring the smile back into your voice, I’d promise it a thousand times over.”
She sucked in a shaky breath, and her words were strained, forced through a tight throat. “Why would you go so far for a stranger, Lukas? Why am I worthy of such sacrifice?”
Honestly, I wasn’t at all sure myself. Perhaps it was the lingering memory of her in my fever dreams, or the raw mystery surrounding her, but whatever the draw, I knew in my heart that my choice was the right one. “Maybe that’s why I’m staying, to find out why I want to. To find out why you’ve captured my every thought. To unravel the never-ending puzzle you present me with. I’d never think you unworthy of my help, Erata, but I can’t answer your question any better than this: because I would, and because you are.”
At that, she broke down into tears. Her head settled onto my shoulder as she wept, and for the first time I gained a clearer picture of what she looked like. I released her hand, instead rubbing gentle circles across her back, her slight shoulders trembling with each breath. In smoothing her hair, I found it no longer than her chin, but straight and soft and scented like flowers. A band of some sort wrapped around her forehead, a circlet that made my skin tingle when I brushed against it. With her so close, it was difficult to think beyond the physical, and I had to stop myself from taking advantage of her vulnerability. All she asked of me was my presence, nothing more. Determined, I refused to push for any more than what she offered. At that moment, she offered a chance to comfort her in her distress. While I didn’t know the reasons for her pain, I’d do what I could to ease it.
There were still holes in my mental picture of her, but I learned more in that short time than I had in weeks. Getting acquainted with someone without ever laying eyes on them was unlike anything I’d done before. I imagined it was how my grandfather, blind for half his life, had known the world before he passed. Without sight, all that’s left is the heart of a person. Erata’s heart was bruised, but not beyond salvation. In her sorrow, I saw one who’d known love and lost it, resigned to being alone. Perhaps it was my purpose to show her those things could be had once more. I was not raised to believe in second chances, but, for the first time, I saw their importance.
I could be her second chance.
Chapter 8
Time progressed with certainty after that night. My days were no longer measured by hours or minutes, but in light and dark. The elk became my sun, illuminating my mind as we explored stories, and Erata my moon, a cool respite from the toils of the day.
It took over two weeks of carving and cobbling, but the cast came together eventually. I’d painstakingly whittled away the inside until it fit the elk’s leg like a second skin, padding it with the stuffing I’d removed from a pillow in the library. It wasn’t the most graceful contraption, to be sure, but it did allow the elk to hobble around on her own. After two days of practice, she made it from the garden to her room without breaking a single thing in the house. At that achievement, she promptly wandered off into the greenery alone, leaving me to clean up the mess I’d created with my makeshift work station. She seemed incredibly happy at her newfound mobility, even though my help was still required if she wished to lie down, as the cast had to be removed for that.
Regardless, my days settled into a predictable pattern after that. The elk and I read book after book, exploring stories from everywhere around the world. There were battles in Qilong, daring rescues from the clutches of strega in Viya, familiar tales of trolls I’d heard growing up, and the origins of old spirits that moved the web of life through the seasons. We discussed those things in great depth, mostly for my benefit, and half of the time she seemed to be humoring me in my ignorance. I loved it, though. The knowledge imparted on the pages seeped into my brain, expanding my world with multiplying facets to study. The singular time I was met with resistance to my endless inquiries was when I brought up the matter of dragons again. We’d finished a book of myths from Qilong, and it reminded me of the tome she’d stop
ped me from reading in my first days with her. When asking her proved pointless, I decided that my meals would be filled with The Care and Feeding of Dragons, as the time I spent eating rarely involved the elk. She was still refusing food and drink, though she seemed healthy enough, so there was no need for me to intervene.
My nights were a drastic contrast to all of that. In the absolute darkness of my room, Erata was everywhere. The scent she carried permeated the air, lingering on my pillow even when morning came. Our conversations were never so heavy as they were at first, but not unlike my discussions with the elk. She spoke of places she’d been, describing them in luscious detail that transported me to far-off lands. Some of them I could tell held precious memories for her. She never named specific people, but when she talked about certain places, there was so much emotion in her voice they could only be where she’d been with those she loved. My favorite story of hers was her recounting of a fairy migration. Her words were bursting with joy at each turn of phrase, every sight and sound she told me about. Even the way she spoke of the breeze warmed my soul to know the heights of happiness she could reach. I’d still myself completely, soaking in her stories, her presence, enjoying as much of her as I could. The world was a vast and magnificent place through her eyes.
From time to time, she’d stay so long she’d fall asleep beside me. I’d lie awake listening to the sound of her rhythmic breaths, not daring to move in case I disturbed her and she woke, leaving me all the sooner. A month passed that way, with us growing closer in tiny steps and whispers. Thirty full nights flew by.
I was mid-yawn and stretch on the night she wedged herself up against my side, her head on my shoulder. I couldn’t make sense of it at first. The light scent of flowers from her hair scrambled my thoughts. A million different reactions presented themselves to me in the span of a single moment, and all of them I was sure would get me slapped at best, and bring an end to her visits at the worst. Instead, I stayed how I was, paralyzed with indecision and an arm stretched across the pillows. My mother told me many things about women, as had my father, but none of their advice gave me any clue about how to handle that situation.
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