by K M McGuire
“Shh!” he whispered into her ear. His eyes seemed concerned, though, again, she knew little of these people, and it didn’t slow her heart, pulsing with apprehension.
Blossum silently thrashed, trying to snap herself from his grip. She finally wiggled her arm free. She grabbed her sword from its resting place and swung it shakily at the space between them, his hands now lifted to the sky. She stared at him a second, waiting for him to move, but he did nothing.
“I mean no harm,” he said in a thick accent, as if speaking a second language. “You won’t do much with that on though,” he said, nodding his head towards the scabbard still covering the sword. Her eyes twitched back and forth, unwilling to move the blade.
“Why?” she asked finally, still unsure of him. She knew she could still smack the sense out of him, regardless of the scabbard being on. He squirmed uncomfortably, chewing on his thoughts. Blossum began to suspect he was just as scared as she.
“I thought you were dead,” he said nervously. “I don’t want to kill anymore.”
Blossum reflected on the pinkish warpaint stark against his yellowed skin. His eyes were big, deep black celestial marbles that stared, holding the entirety of the galaxies above. His hair was long and dark, a cascade of shadows cloaking his scalp. He wore the traditional leather armor of the Tastins which was still rather clean, considering the amount of blood that Blossum wore on her own armor. He had a stone hatchet hanging at his side and a satchel dangling from the other. He had the appearance of someone who was as much a warrior as Blossum.
He shook his head, as if entranced by her. “I must not be seen with you,” he said suddenly, eyes becoming shifty. He grabbed her shoulders, shoving her back into the nook.
“What are you going on about?” she asked rather offended, trying to peer around him. He held his hand firmly in place, warning her with hardened eyes.
“Your people,” he said quietly, his attention shifting away from her, “I-I just-I didn’t want to fight,” he said defensively, hoping the disclaimer would relax her. He was struggling to find the words, and Blossum felt a sudden urge to place her hands against his cheeks, hoping to calm him down. She understood how he felt. His eyes now focused on her, glossed over with a film of tears. “You know your people lost?” he asked bitterly, hanging his head against her hand.
Blossum’s mind turned to Estra, playing the image of her body pressed down to a powder and felt the pain drop again in her heart, as if his affirmation made it something new. It was as though a rock fell onto a pane of glass. Every word, every thought, even the memories, transmuted to vapor and was whisked away by shock, the sudden thief. Emotions felt foreign to her, as though they were a ship at sea, unable to spot the ant-like silhouette of herself, waving against the horizon. Her only sanctity now was the hollow under the willow, and she feared that if she left it, she would abandon the only comfort she had since she left home.
“The search parties are looking for survivors,” the boy said, breaking her thoughts, hoping to express the urgency of the situation around them. “I wish to not cause you harm. I never wanted this war!” He paused at a loud yelp of sound, and his brow furrowed a thought before continuing. “Let me do one act of kindness for you. Go where they will not search!”
She tried to stir her thoughts, wrestling with her uncertainty. “Where will I go?” she gulped down her imagination, shivering at the image of the Tastin’s plan for those left behind. She felt she could trust this boy, even though he was not “her kind”. Something was different, at least enough that she felt her affections lean towards his sincerity.
“Follow the moss. It must face towards you,” he said, pointing through the dense forest behind them. “Travel swift and silent! You will come to ground lifted above the forest. The Forbidden Plateau—no, listen! If you climb the rock and stay by the edge, I will come find you! You should be able to see me when I come for you. I will flash a mirror for you to see, just wait for me!” He looked at her, eyes dreaming of the ineffable. The weald churned with the rustle of nervous leaves, anxiety jerking the boy’s attention behind them for a moment. Time fluttered the beats in Blossum’s heart. A bead of paranoia dripped along his cheek.
“What makes you think your people won’t follow me?” she said defensively, now concerned it was just a ploy. “Why should I trust you?”
The boy bit his lip with conflicting choices and then leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss along her lips, and Blossum felt her eyes widen and then close with acceptance. He pulled away, eyes connecting to hers.
“My name is Nosh, and I give you my word. I never wanted to be here, but I have had no choice. We are not so different. I can see it in your eyes! We are two different races, yet we share the same emotions like we are not. You are not too blind to see past the prejudices. I only fight because dishonor is seen as worse than giving up on your beliefs. But I see that simple world the leaders say is too complicated to strive for! They laugh at me when I speak of my dreams of true peace coming, but I know—I have seen him in the dreams! If we are not so different, then I think you can trust me.”
Blossum felt her emotions swell, wondering if it was all from the events of the day or if she saw what Nosh was talking about. “I’m Blossum,” she finally said, taking a moment to consider her options. There was something about him that she could not deny. “Okay, but do you really think we can make it?”
He nodded his head. “But you mustn’t delay, Blossum,” he said. “My people will avoid the Plateau at all costs. We are terrified of its dangers. But do not venture into those cruel woods! The darkness is vengeful there. Wait at the edge, and when this is done, I will find you. I need to lead their attention elsewhere, and then I can come back to you. We must be careful if we are to be safe.”
“Thank you,” she said, and she wrapped him in a gracious hug, kissing his forehead. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Decency would tell me otherwise.” He smiled weakly. “Now go! Remain hidden!”
He gave her one last, kind, longing look and rushed from out of the nook. Again, she was alone. Vulnerable to the world, every noise was a potential adversity. She slowly worked up her courage and started off through the woods, thankful there was no one nearby, though she still prayed to the Beyond no one would follow her. She moved diligently, remembering what Nosh had said about the moss, sliding from tree to tree. She found no one at all along her travels, other than those already dead, but after what felt like an hour, she found the woods peaceful and started to fear she wouldn’t find the plateau.
She cursed herself for being so foolish, listening to a Tastin. Estra would have kicked her shin, and the pang of her death was pinched back by her eyes. She needed to strive for hope. As it nearly waned, she saw the trees beginning to thin, and a slate-colored wall rose well above her head. She looked at the height of the rock face, distraught.
“Great,” she breathed. She pulled her sword out and jammed the tip into the earth to help stabilize herself as she made the ascent up the near vertical hill. She felt she was living out some allegory but was distracted enough not to care what it was. “This is the last time I trust a cute boy,” she grumbled, sweat streaming from her grungy brow.
She found the top and pulled herself over the edge. She paused when she found her footing stable, staring into a place that looked more dreadful than the war she had just escaped. Gnarled, grisly trees stretched across the horizon, like giant, decrepit hands searching for the sun to bring them back to life. The dirt was gray, void of nutrition, and as dusty as an unkept house. The only sense she could gauge as living was the creeping trickle along her back of the weary spirits that breathed through the woods. If the ascent hadn’t been so difficult, she would have turned back right then. As she considered the vacancy of the trees, she remembered this was perhaps the safest place to be for now. What could the dead do to her other than cause fear? She sat with her legs draped over the ledge, staring across the canopy below her. It was the first sense of beauty
she’d had since home. She felt her thoughts drifting, reaching out for her family, wondering if she would ever return.
Her eyes pulled her head back round towards the desolate woods. A gentle glow pulsed deep in the spindles of trees, emanating from what looked to be a pink crystalized creature that pulled itself from behind a tree, and then shifting into an odd haze, taking it out of sight. She felt a thousand eyes bombarding her with their perverted stares. She could not bring herself to understand the origin of the being. Was it hunting her? She couldn’t risk that sort of unknown. Blossum stood cautiously, looking back at the woods below. She would just walk to the clearing where she saw the creature and turn back. She pulled out her sword, holding it firmly with both her hands, as if it were a candle to ward off the night.
Where had it gone? The trees bent low to her, the thousand eyes burning thoughts of invisible creatures into her mind. A whisper chanted across the branches, then a laugh swirled around her head. This was not a place for her. She couldn’t shake the queer feeling stitched to her spine and decided it would be best to go back down the hill and wait below for Nosh. She turned, only to find…no, the path wasn’t there anymore. None of the trees felt familiar. None looked anything like she remembered. The sky itself had lost its vitality as well, as if a dense front of clouds stretched across it, choking out the sun.
She started walking towards—she wasn’t sure, as long as it got her to the edge of the cliff. Yet the longer she walked, the more she realized, with deeper woe, the edge was not going to come. She turned to study the trees, bent around her in a terrible embrace, and her legs began to shuffle faster, hoping to remove herself from their invasiveness. They did not relent, silently spreading their crooked branches of blatant mocks, and jeers seemed to echo out of them. The fear descended further around Blossum. Her eyes became dense with tears, hating the labyrinth she could not escape, and the laughter and gauntly voices tore at her subconscious, as if flaying her soul. Yet it grew louder, which caused her to vocalize her angst. Her legs now thrashed against the earth beneath her. Only puffs of dust told her where she had been, to vanish well before she could establish whether she ran in circles.
The voices came from behind the trees, and she hoped the crystal creature did not come out from behind them, only to see the soft glow of its aura, its faceted head ebbing with dark strands of tar-like mist. She knew it was watching. She could see it in her head. It watched her, beckoned her. She heard it use her name, but she pressed her fingers in her ears, hoping her nails could puncture them before she conceded to the monster, crinkling like sheets of glass rubbing against one another.
She could not fathom how it kept finding her. It knew her. She did not know how, but it summoned her fears without saying them. It only whispered her name and they surfaced to her skin, like maggots from a corpse. She began to cry out loud, screaming for it to stop, but the echoes sounded closer to laughter. The sky blackened further. The forest became even more twisted and deranged, the path seeming to twirl with an illusion of vertigo, spiraling along with the chanting of laughs. The hollow cries, she realized, were her pain.
Please! I will do anything to escape! she prayed violently, hoping to find a spark of light anywhere inside the fading twilight of the forest. The dark spirits that snatched at her heels would not relent, no light yet found. ANYTHING! Let me be free of this Hell!
The last thing she remembered was her feet losing contact with the earth, as a voice, deeply layered and bemused whispered, I have much planned for you.
The air filled with soft, turbulent flickers of ivory smoke. Blossum’s eyes burned a moment in the space, reminding Voden of himself, only for a moment, as she whispered, “How well do you know sorrow? How intimate have you become with deceit? The world may be quite a different fantasy than you have perceived.”
The worlds flushed away, evaporating into the nothingness. Her eyes now faded into a foggy wave, merging with the white haze. Now, across their eyes, the pastel palette bubbled awake, invisible drops of ink drizzling into the blurred landscape. The ground became solid, where deep values of green and lush vegetation formed around them.
A buzz chimed through Blossum’s brain, stirring flickers of thoughts through her waking consciousness. Though she felt her eyes weighted down with grogginess, she forced them open but found the light too bright. She quickly placed her arm across her face. She enjoyed the cool touch of her armor on her brow, comforting the sharp buzz that expanded through her head.
She felt waves of confusion lapping against her mind like a slowly rising tide from an ocean of doubt, preparing to wash her away. Finally, she moved her arm, so she could she see. Her discomfort vanished nearly as soon as she took her arm away, contemplating whether she was still alive. She sat up, curling her fingers in the soft, silky grass, green like emerald swords. It was velutinous like the sheep on her parents’ farm, where she remembered blissfully running her adolescent fingers through the plumy fur. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, she could survey the landscape, vastly different from the moody din of the woods she had somehow escaped.
A pang of fear thrust itself into her as she remembered the unspeakable fear she had previously experienced, looking about her for the unknown horror that had tormented her. The trees hummed with warmth, distilling her consternation the moment she realized how different this land truly appeared. It was loving, wrapping her with a sense of ease, where it almost seemed to breathe a peaceful vapor, awakening a calm in her she could not ignore. She listened a moment to the jingling of life’s proclamations to the air. Such a sweet melody, carried on the vessel of the motherly wind that kissed her child spritely on the cheek. Blossum glanced up at the covering of green overhead. She saw a massive cliff behind her, much higher than she wanted to admit to herself, realizing it was from there that she had fallen.
The ground was thick with foliage, and she was quite sure it was what had saved her. With a grimace, fighting between her comfort and curiosity to see more of this Eden, she pushed herself to her feet. Vertigo snared her joints, but she composed herself quickly and stabilized herself against her knees.
The trees and shrubs were intensely beautiful. They fumed with life, spreading fresh scents she had not had the pleasure of smelling before. Even the crags in the rocky cliff teemed with clouds of moss as little beds for critters to lay their heads. She enjoyed the heat that hung in the air, simmered by a sweet wind that took with it the excess heat out of the grove. There were splattered blotches of iridescent flowers littering the trail before her, begging her to come and explore. She felt curiosity peering through the gap in the trees, as if it were a portal leading to a dreamy path, speaking her name, stitched to the tongue of the wind. She brushed past giant leaves curtained over top of the earth, and finally, she forced her way through the dense foliage. Amazement struck her eyes again, as tiny blue orbs drifted loftily in the air of the grove. She heard the babble of water clapping against stone, and it drugged her into a trance, pulling her legs through the grove so she could watch the singing birds frolic from branch to branch. She smiled at the drunkenly dancing butterflies, sputtering about the grove. Their nose would then find the scent of a flower, and in docile pumps of their vibrating wings, they fed on the nectar of the grounds’ bouquet.
Blossum spotted a thick, lively bush, barely able to hold the massive fruit hanging from it, dazzling with its salacious color. She plucked a reddish-purple fruit from the bush, feeling the plump maturity. She dared not squeeze it, expecting it would burst. She wondered after it for a moment, finding no reason for it to be inedible, and bit deep into the fruit. The berry nearly burst the instant her teeth struck the skin, streaming an explosion of flavors she hoped would stay on her tongue forever. It was like honey in milk with tangy notes of ripeness flushing through the sweet textured fruit. She looked at the brilliant copper color, stark against the deep, lustful tones of the fruit’s skin. Her mouth moaned, pleased with the experience, and she shoved the rest of the fruit into her mouth
as quickly as she could manage. She tore into another and noticed the other trees and shrubs covered by other gem-like fruit.
The variation was staggering. She could not choose which to take first. She made her way towards a tree with green looking peaches dotted with blue freckles and pulled one off the supple branch. The flavor was buttery, and the meaty texture was filling. She hardly gave herself a second to wipe the blue juices dripping off the corner of her mouth. She flung the pit and went to wipe her face with her arm, stopping herself when she caught sight of her gauntlet, caked in soot and dried blood. The creek bubbled in the background, calling to her in its secret language.
She decided to wash her face and get a drink as a brown bunny hopped out of the bushes and plopped its head in the creek, lapping at the gentle water. Blossum approached the bank gingerly, and the creature looked up at her. It paused for only a second before continuing to drink, not minding Blossum as she bent down to wet her fingers. She rubbed the cool moisture against her eyelids. She looked at the reflection as she dipped her fingers in the cool water again, watching estranged features waver in the clear water. The memories came back with a forceful weight of melancholy that culminated all the things she wished she could have forgotten.
She took the water and violently splashed it, rubbing it against her face, sobbing all the while, and pulling at the strands of hair still left. The bunny was instantly spooked and darted back into the bushes from whence it came. She let the water settle as she watched her reflection crystalize, noticing her vial hanging around her neck.
“Estra,” she whispered, lifting the cord over her head. She held it in her hand, staring at the only thing left she had to remember the one person she held at the highest esteem. And as she looked at the sparkling blue water captured inside the vessel, she felt something break inside her, realizing that Estra would never smile at her again, and whatever memories she had would eventually fade to blurs and move to scars.
