by Alex Aguilar
Nyx’s head dropped, and the single tear he’d been holding on to for dear life fell with it. She approached him, bent on one knee, and lifted his chin up, her hands wrapped around his furry cheeks as her own watery eyes met his.
“As mum always said,” she smiled. “You never abandon family…”
And with that, she threw her arms around him, and Nyx allowed for her embrace to overwhelm him. They remained in silence for a while, before the cold wind picked up again and made them realize how late it was.
“Come,” Robyn said, and they proceeded back to their resting place.
Little to their knowledge, however, there was a pair of ears that had been eavesdropping on their conversation in the darkness. And when Robyn and Nyx went back for a good night’s rest, the Beast faked a snore and tried desperately to appear fast asleep.
* * *
Every step was agonizing. Every second, an eternity.
She breathed gently through her nose, hoping it would relieve some of the strain and yet all it did was worsen it. If having to tell someone they were going to die felt this way, Adelina Huxley could only imagine what it would feel like to receive such news.
The situation was all too familiar to her… She cared far too much, and that was often her problem. She would throw herself into other people’s lives and try to fix them, knowing very well it wasn’t her responsibility to do so. And in the end it was always her who was left to deliver the news, to her own mother and father, to her deceased husband, to that sick peasant woman she found in her barn 23 winters ago, seeking shelter from a storm.
It was always Adelina Huxley that looked after them in their final moments. And there she was, in the guard barracks of Val Havyn’s royal palace, on her way to deliver the news to Aevastra. She was to look the orcess in the eyes and tell her that her child would be left motherless.
She entered the dusty old room… There she was, the poor thing, lying on the rickety bed, bundled in shabby old blankets, looking mere seconds away from death. Adelina sat on a chair next to the fireplace and waited. The only other soul in the room was Evellyn Amberhill, resting on a bed in the other end of the room. Several minutes passed before Aevastra opened her eyes and began muttering in her mother tongue.
“Min neno queridu… Duandi aestas…”
Adelina stepped gently towards her. “Hello, my dear,” she said, and realized it was the first time she ever spoke so warmly to a nonhuman before. Aevastra’s weak, baggy eyes were searching the room. “It’s okay,” Adelina placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “He’s fine. The kids took him to the kitchen for some warm milk.”
The orcess’s eyes sunk back to their frail weakened state, awaiting the news. She knew what was coming before Adelina even had the chance to start. “I-I’m so terribly sorry,” Adelina said, her voice breaking and struggling through every word. “The Lady Clark has sent for every apothecary in the city, but… So far, none of them had the necessary ingredients for the remedy…”
And then she watched… It began with the dropping of the eyes and brows, as if the energy was already starting to fade away from her. Then came a deep exhale, a grinding of the teeth, and a shiver. Adelina tried to lend a comforting hand, but there was nothing that could ever comfort someone from death. It was an inevitable horror with no reprieve.
“I’m deeply sorry, my dear… Truly…”
Aevastra’s yellow eyes were glistening with tears, but none were falling just yet. She looked up aimlessly at the brickstone ceiling, blinking again and again as she took it all in.
“They say there might still be hope among the neighboring villages, but… The poison will have spread dangerously by the time they find someone with a cure…”
Another deep exhale, this time bringing a cloud of fog with it.
“Nu importah lu que pasu en aeste mundoh,” Aevastra mumbled. “Solo recuerdus quedahn.”
Adelina’s chest began pounding with both fear and angst. The orcess looked as if she was trying to be at peace, but her expression seemed forced and full of despair. Attempting to understand, having heard many stories of the Woodland dialect, Adelina arched her brows and said, “It matters not… what happens in this world…?”
“…Only memories stay,” Aevastra finished the translation for her, and then solemnly added, “Better this way.”
Adelina couldn’t quite find the words to say. She began caressing Aevastra’s shoulder as if she were a lifelong friend. “Don’t say that… There may still be hope…”
There was a brief silence in which Aevastra’s breathing sunk into a painful huffing. It sounded rough and beastlike and yet mournful all at once. “Hope…?” she said, her voice faint and broken. “There is no hope…”
What does what even say in moments like these? Adelina pondered. Many times, she had lived them and yet every time she was at a loss for words. “Th-That’s not true,” she said. “My family and I… We’ve survived countless times on nothing but hope… It’s the one thing we’ve never lost. Our lives depend on it.”
Aevastra’s neck bent as she looked right into the woman’s eyes, and they remained there for several moments. Adelina couldn’t quite make out the expression on the orcess’s face. There was a deep sorrow there, it was clear, but there was also a hidden rage, one that the orcess fought hard to suppress. Out of both respect and caution, Adelina removed her hand and dragged a chair to sit closer to the bed.
“Your lives…” Aevastra said, “…are worth living… Not mine.”
Adelina’s felt her own eyes begin to swell.
“That isn’t true,” she said, nodding her head gently from side to side.
It felt strange to her, to feel such sorrow towards an orc woman that she had only just met, an orc woman that had aimed a knife at her upon first meeting. Strange, and yet she couldn’t help it. She knew she would have done the same to protect her own children.
“You don’t know,” Aevastra groaned suddenly, and Adelina could do nothing but listen. The orcess struggled through every breath and yet she persisted like a resilient lioness. “You don’t feel what I feel,” she said. “To live every day… in fear… in world where they remind you of what you are…. in world where they remind you that you are not welcome… that you are less than nothing…”
Aevastra’s words were interrupted by a violent cough, a painful one, and a few tears escaped her eyes at the same time. “Hubieres dejadu qu mi llevehn,” she said, then reiterated, “You should have let them take me.”
Adelina’s brows lowered. Stop this… Stop this now…
Her hand moved again, this time towards Aevastra’s own hand. Upon first contact, the orcess opened her eyes again and looked down. She was far too weak to grip the woman’s hand in return, but she didn’t have to. The woman seemed reluctant to let go.
“No…” Adelina wiped her tear-stricken cheek with her free hand.
Never did Aevastra imagine she would see such concern in the eyes of a human. Even among her clan, she hadn’t seen it. And, in that moment, she was thankful and at peace with the thought that, at the very least, her last moments would be in the presence of someone who genuinely cared.
“Listen to me,” Adelina said firmly. “You matter… d’you hear me? Just like anyone else, you matter… You have been a mother to that child and you have protected him like no mother ever has. That child is living proof that you matter... d’you understand?”
Their eyes became locked on one another…
So different and yet so alike, they were, like two trees of the very same forest.
Aevastra looked away first, her tears staining her pale green cheekbones.
But Adelina beckoned her back instantly.
“Look at me,” she said. “Look at me and tell me… what is your name?”
The orcess opened her dry rough lips. “Aeva…”
“Say it,” Adelina gripped her hand tighter. “What is your name?”
“Aevastra…”
“That’s right,” said Ade
lina. “Nobody can take that away from you, d’you hear me? Nobody… I promise you, your child will know his mother’s name…”
The rage had entirely vanished from Aevastra’s eyes, replaced with something else entirely, something like genuine peace.
“I’ll go and get him for you,” Adelina rose to her feet slowly and headed for the door.
“Thank you,” Aevastra said delicately, to which Adelina responded with a warm smile.
And they were the last words Aevastra would ever speak.
* * *
It took less than an hour before John Huxley felt the world spinning around him.
The thief, on the other hand, was holding himself quite well, as was customary of him. They sat alongside one another, their words sinking deeper into a slur with every sip. Little did they know their witch companion was watching from a distance, behind the row of shrubs, the blue pixie floating just above her shoulder. The bright glow that encompassed Sivvy had also diminished, as if the pixie could somehow sense the witch’s desire to remain unseen and wanted to take part in it.
“I’m impressed, mate,” they heard Hudson say. “The last man I drank Roquefort liqueur with collapsed only thirty minutes in.”
There was a shade of pink around John’s blue pupils and the expression on his face was one of tranquility with perhaps a bit of vertigo. Suffice it to say, the young man was unquestionably drunk. He turned to Hudson, who had suddenly fallen into a silence after his laughter faded. John was unsure of what to say to him, but he knew there was something in the thief’s mind that needed to be said. To think that such a man had once been his foe was now a mystery to him. The dreadful feeling in his chest just a day prior, when Hudson had been shot by the raider’s arrow, was far too real to ignore.
“Did she, uh…” Hudson began, but the knot in his throat was strong and irritating, so much so that he cleared his throat and closed his eyes, as if he knew he would regret what he was about to ask. “Did she say anything to you?”
John smirked at him. It was rare for the thief to disclose any form of emotion, much less concern for someone, and it had come as much a surprise to Hudson as it did to John. Meanwhile, in the darkness, Syrena of Morganna felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing the thief’s words; the pixie above her shoulder appeared to be just as invested in the pair’s conversation as she was.
“She was, um… Well, she was worried for you,” John said, his voice placid and slurred. “She may not have said it, but… She was. We both were.”
Hudson took a deep breath. It may have been the liqueur, but he looked as if a wave of sorrow had suddenly plummeted over him, as if he was just now realizing he had nearly faced death. His eyes looked weary and his gaze wasn’t set on anything in particular other than the bed of leaves in front of him. He placed the cork back on the bottle and laid it to rest beside him, all the while keeping the same troubled expression on his face.
“When that man shot me back there,” he said. “Do you know what was the last thing that crossed my mind before everything went black?”
John said nothing, only listened attentively.
Hudson seemed to be in a sort of trance as he spoke.
“I thought… ‘This is it, Blackwood. This is how you go’… followed closely by… ‘You should’ve told her how you felt when you had the chance, you insensible Son of Nobody’…”
Syrena of Morganna’s entire body was still scorching hot but she instantly felt a chill, sweat building at her forebrow and temples, a puff of fire erupting from one of her thumbs accidentally. She took a step back, deeper into the darkness, out of view from the two men.
“She’s um… She’s remarkable, that one,” Hudson went on. “Remarkable, and she doesn’t even know it... Her hesitation is her only weakness. She thinks less of herself than what she is. Truly, I… I must admit, I…”
Syrena fought through her nerves. She’d never wanted anything more in her life as much as she wanted to step out of the shadows at that very moment. She wanted to walk up to the thief and ask him to finish his thought. Her feet wouldn’t move, however. She was caught in something of a trance herself.
No man had ever disclosed such feelings towards her, despite her beauty. The fact that she was a witch had been a curse all of her life when it came to any form of human connection. Even her own father had sold her as a child, wanting nothing to do with her. And to hear the thief speaking about her so differently, so strangely, it terrified her. Her orange eyes began to swell and the tightness in her chest was nearly unbearable. It was a feeling she wasn’t accustomed to and yet she found herself half-smiling.
“D’you know what the sad part about all of this is?” John asked, breaking the silence.
Hudson glanced at him vulnerably. “What?”
“These may be the first serious words I’ve ever heard you speak… And yet I’m not sure I’ll remember them in the morning.” John stumbled drunkenly to his feet and gave his friend what he hoped would be an encouraging tap on the shoulder.
“Tell her, Hudson,” he said. “I may not be the smartest man…”
“You’re not.”
“Shut up,” John smirked, and then finished his thought. “But I do know a thing or two about regret… Don’t waste another moment, mate.”
Hudson looked up, and though it may have been mostly due to the liqueur, he smiled.
John nodded and smiled right back. After a brief moment, however, he placed a quick hand on his grumbling belly as his face went pale. “I think it’s best that I lie down,” he said, then walked off into the darkness.
Hudson Blackwood remained in that bed of leaves. Any other night before all of this had begun, he would have reached for the bottle next to him, but something stopped him this time. He had no need for it. He grabbed it and tossed it as far as his feeble arm would allow him. Once he did, his soggy eyes gazed serenely into the distance. He had never before seen such beautiful forest life. He knew the glowing of the leaves may have been in part due to the pixies hiding among them, but he did not mind it one bit. He was smiling.
Then his eyes caught something… There was an unusual movement among a nearby row of shrubs. A shadow stepped towards him, wearing a pair of leather trousers, boots, and a grey shirt that may have been cut out of a dress. Sivvy flew gently away into the trees and allowed the witch her privacy.
Their eyes met in the glimmering darkness. The thief was looking at her the same way he’d looked at her when they were escaping Val Havyn’s dungeons together. And she felt her chest would implode from the anxiety; she had that quailing feeling she would often get when she was among a large crowd or at the center of attention. But unlike all the previous times, she didn’t feel the need to run.
“There you are,” Hudson spoke first. “You were starting to worry me…”
“Don’t fret. I can fend for myself,” was all Syrena could muster the courage to say.
“I wasn’t worried for you, love, I was worried for me. Stay close will you?” he said. And then he shot her that mischievous, coquettish wink of his, a wink that she found oddly irresistible.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked, her lips curved into a smile.
“As well as I’ll ever be.”
Syrena sat next to him on the bed of leaves. Hidden beneath so many layers of black, she hadn’t noticed just how oddly bright Hudson’s white calico shirt looked on him now that his coat and vest were off.
“You certainly look well,” she said, still unsure if the thief knew she had been listening to his previous conversation the entire time.
“You’re far too kind, darling,” he said with a grin. “This was my favorite shirt, you know. Now look at it. It’s ruined.”
“That, it is,” she chuckled. “That blood stain surely won’t wash off.”
“Didn’t mean the blood. If anything, it helps me look more menacing. It’s the damned hole the arrow made. Even stitched up, I’ll look like a filthy vagabond.”
She smiled at his wit.
There was a brief pause, during which the thief couldn’t quite find the proper words to say.
“Enough about me,” he cleared his throat. “How are you, darling?”
Her hands were trembling. She could feel the eyes among the trees watching her. She could almost hear their whispers and hisses. And every now and then, she could see the shadows scattering away like flies thanks to Sivvy. Deep down, she knew she was merely glancing about, distracting herself, to avoid Hudson’s gaze. She wanted very much to tell the thief everything. How she felt back in the dungeons, how she felt when he stood up for her in the middle of Val Havyn when nobody else would, how she felt when he so much as looked at her with those conflicted eyes of his.
But through the grating tension, all she could say was, “Fine…”
Hudson smiled and gave her a nod, suddenly wishing he still had the bottle of liqueur. For a while, the only sounds in the air were that of crickets and the flapping of wings in the distance. The sounds were like a harmony and the moon’s perfect light was something from a dream.
“I just wanted to say,” Syrena muttered. “I-I’m very happy that you’re still here.”
“Well… I’m not nearly as strong as you are,” Hudson said. “But I think I have your friend in the trees to thank for that. Don’t know what she used for this wound, but I’d like the recipe.”
Syrena chuckled. And in that moment, it was the sweetest sound to Hudson’s ears.
“That bloke wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” he asked. “After I dozed off, I mean.”
“Not at all,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve encountered much worse.”
“I’ll bet… What is the worst you’ve encountered?”
She hesitated. The knot in her throat had returned, and this time it was sharper than it had ever been. And yet something in the thief’s eyes relieved it. She saw something like genuine interest in them and it was somehow giving her the courage to speak.
“Be careful what you ask,” she warned him.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he grinned.
She smiled again, and with a deep sigh she began.
