Authors: Frankie Ash
Eramane (20 page)
“I’m leaving.”
“You cannot leave,” he exclaims. Limearsy grabs my arm with force, trying to stop me from mounting the nearby horse. Although Limearsy is a man, stronger than I remember any other man being, I am not intimidated. I just survived Adikiah, the Gate, and a fall from the heavens.
“Let me go,” I demand. He does not comply. “Let me go, or I will kill you.” My voice is calm and steady. He releases me. I stand there a moment, glaring into the eyes of the man, who for some reason makes me uneasy, makes me feel like maybe I would not be able to kill him, and then I head for the horse again.
“You said yourself that you wanted him dead! Why are you trying to save him now?” Limearsy shouts at my back, following close behind. His question annoys me.
“I am not trying to save him! I am going to destroy him! Alone!” I shout as I reach for the saddle on the horse. Even though I do not truly feel I can overcome Adikiah, my desire for revenge, or retribution, or whatever emotion is compelling me to right what has been wronged, is unstoppable.
“Why do you not want our help?”
“Your
help
? You cannot help me. Those men know who I am, what I am; I cannot trust them, because they do not trust me. At any moment any one of them might try to attack me. Then what? Then I have to kill them … I have to kill your men! They cannot help me. Adikiah will kill all of you!” His confidence makes me laugh aloud. “Your warriors cannot stop him,” I say as I climb onto the tall black horse. “Even I may not be able to stop him,” I finish. Limearsy grabs my stallion’s bridle.
“No. We cannot leave without these men,” he insists.
“Your men will die! They will all fall, and it will be because of you! You can save them by leaving them behind.” He looks at me for a moment, then looks back at his warriors in waiting. “We will need some supplies for the horses.” Limearsy grabs his horse.
“How far to the next town?” I ask.
“If we leave now, we will be there by dusk,” he replies.
“Then we will get them there. If we do not hurry, these men will be ready and wanting to follow,” I say as I settle into the saddle. Limearsy climbs on his horse behind me, and we ride off.
We demand much of the horses. They are starting to foam at the mouth, so we stop at the edge of the creek we are following. I sit under a giant moss tree near the bank while Limearsy leads the horses to the creek’s edge. I tilt my head back, resting it on the willow. My thoughts are of Adikiah. I can feel his agony of being alone; he hates being alone, and after experiencing our time together, the loneliness overwhelms him. Until me, he had been alone for hundreds of years. I can hear his screams of regret, and I know that he feels sorrow for what he has done to me. His madness is enough to send any man to his knees, but because of his madness he cannot sense that I am still alive. I will never give him my pity; I crave revenge—for everything. Soon, though, he will settle, and then I will not have to seek him out; he will find me.
“We should reach the town of Grullom a short time before dusk,” Limearsy breaks in. “We are making good time.”
Grullom
A BREEZE GENTLY CARESSES MY
skin, lightly blowing the hair on my body. It is soft and inviting, as if to say, “Come and dance with me.” The sun is going down, and the evening has gone from an orange sunset to a thick gray veil covering the sky. The night is going to be long, but Grullom is just ahead.
The dim yellow glow of the street lanterns flickers as winds bluster through the streets. Not one person is out in the small, hidden town of Grullom. Limearsy does not seem to notice the absence of the townspeople; he just stares straight ahead.
After a moment, though, he breaks his silence. He has to shout, because the gusts of wind make a low whine as they pass. “My friend Hempshi lives just ahead! Follow me!” He rides ahead of me and gives his horse a squeeze to make it pick up its stride. My horse hurries to catch up without having been commanded. I follow him uphill until we reach a small, ivy-covered house. We dismount and walk the horses over to a watering trough. My giant black horse snorts as if to say, “Thanks for getting off my back.”
After tying the horses, we walk on a narrow path of stones that leads to the door of this stone hut, secluded from the town. The door opens before Limearsy can knock, and a man inside grabs Limearsy, squeezing him tight.
“What brings you here, my good friend?” He steps back to get a better look at Limearsy, then leads us inside. “It has been so long; where have you been?” he questions Limearsy, shutting the door and looking at me for the first time. His eyes widen. “Where on earth did you find this glorious creature?” he asks with mischief and curiosity in his voice. The question from the short, fat, greasy pig of a man disgusts me.
“I am the furthest thing from glorious. If glory is what you seek, then you should turn to that big round belly of yours,” I say without hesitation and feel immediate regret at my lack of regard. My insult puzzles Hempshi, so he shrugs me off and turns to Limearsy.
“Take anything you need,” Hempshi says as he points to food sitting around the room. Hempshi is sure to be the town’s baker, because his house smells of hot bread and fruit pies. “There is plenty of freshly cooked honey bread sitting on the warming stone over there.” Hempshi points to a corner where a pile of flat warming stones heats the bread loaves. This man just offered Limearsy to take anything. I never offered Adikiah, and he took everything anyway.
“I did not come for your delicious breads, my friend; I came for horse feed,” Limearsy says.
“You should take some food for you and your lady friend, Limearsy. You cannot exist on adventure alone,” Hempshi says as he places some bread in a satchel and tosses it to Limearsy.
Hempshi leaves the room and returns after a few short moments. He hands Limearsy several small sacks of horse feed to give our hungry steeds. What I am hungry for I cannot have, but I refuse to harvest. For now, I have to control myself and live off of my sorrow and maybe some honey bread; it does smell delicious, and to my surprise the smell has caused my palate to water. I take all of the bags and walk toward the door; looking back at the man, I nod in gratitude. Hempshi’s generosity is worthy of a mute thank-you.
The guilt I carry is a constant strangling sensation, a reminder of my profoundly harmed soul trying to reach out. I do not need a reminder. My soul wants to rest; I want to rest. I secure the feed while Limearsy is on the front stoop saying good-bye to Hempshi. After a quick couple of words, Limearsy starts for his horse. He is carrying several sheathed swords on his back; unless he had an arm for each of them, they would do him no good, and even that would only slightly increase his odds. Again, I find amusement in his confidence. We mount our horses and continue on our path to the Dark Forest.
We stop at the edge of the forest. Tall trees stand like guardians, protecting outsiders from the darkness they harbor. Humans fear it because of its legend, fairy tales rumoring the forest to be alive, an evil presence commanding it. To humans these tales are only make-believe, but the idea of the tales is what terrifies them. I look up at the mammoth trees and hope that this place has no special powers; there will be only one way to know for sure. “It will take us two days to go around,” Limearsy says. I look at the trees a moment longer.
“We do not have the time; we have to pass through,” I say. “I have been through worse and deserve whatever awaits me in there.” I look at the wooded gate and nudge my hesitant horse to proceed.
The Dark Forest: Part One
THE NIGHT IS DARKER THAN
what one’s eyes view in death, and the amiable smell of the homely town of Grullom has diminished. Limearsy does not talk much, so I have only my thoughts to pass the time, thoughts of my time with Adikiah, thoughts of the dreadful things I have done. My guilt grows stronger, and my stomach begins to churn so badly I think I might vomit; and I do. I vomit right in the middle of my private banter. Putrid vomit splatters across the forest floor. The sounds of my regurgitation reach Limearsy’s ears. He turns his horse and walks it a few paces back to me. “Are you all right?” he asks.
“I am fine,” I say feebly, trying not to choke. I catch my breath and wipe the bile off my face with my sleeve. I am sure that this is regret’s way of making my soul suffer more. Do I even have a soul? I am unsure; I do not know what I am anymore. Before Adikiah changed me, I was an innocent human
being. After he took me away from my home, I became a murdering monster. I could live a thousand years and never atone for my ill doings.
We continue and the steaming pile of vomit is most likely being investigated by a curious scavenger. Limearsy and I are riding alongside each other; our stallions seemingly take control of navigation. I can sense that Limearsy is concerned about me, or possibly he is only disappointed. I was created from a powerful being, yet I seem nothing more than a desperate girl trying to keep from vomiting.
I distract myself with thoughts of Limearsy. He has a gentle enough demeanor; he seems a quiet man who stays to himself. So why do I feel like there is more to him than this heroic manner he portrays? Then again, do my suspicions even signify anything when I am suspicious of myself? I constantly negotiate the “why” to my existence. Why did I not die when I
became
? Adikiah said that I have a gift; my father spoke of it as well. Why do I have a gift? I have so many questions about myself that I cannot answer, and here I am, asking more questions that I cannot answer about a person that I hardly know.
Limearsy’s short hair is now wet from the rain that started moments ago. His vivid blue eyes haunt me each time I have to address them. They remind me so much of Lebis, and it pains me to look at him. Last night when he rolled me over in the mud, I thought for a moment that he
was
Lebis. He is responsible for my will to survive. I had to live just to find out if Lebis was alive. Of course he was not, yet the resemblance of their eyes is remarkable.
“The rain will only become more intrusive,” Limearsy says as he reaches into a leather duffle. “Take this.” He hands me a black, hooded cloak. I put the swathe around my body, feeling gratitude for its warmth.
“Is this the only one you have?” I ask.
“Yes … but please wear it. I am used to these downpours,” he insists generously. His generosity summons my guilt. I feel I do not deserve his compassion. Shortly after getting the cloak situated around me, Limearsy stops his horse, and my horse again mimics Limearsy’s steed without command.
“You have not yet offered your name,” he says.
“Oh, you do not know it?” I ask in disbelief.
“I know it … it is just that you have not told me. I know who you are and what happened to you, but I thought it would be nice for us to have a proper introduction, that way we are not strangers anymore,” he finishes with a smile.
“My name is Eramane,” I say without pride and order my horse to move forward.
Limearsy remains silent as we travel, and my past easily moves to the front of my thoughts. I recall when Samiah and I were practicing sword fighting one hot summer day. We went to the pond where mother could not see from the house; she would have disapproved. “Ladies do not use swords, Eramane,” she would say. Samiah struck a hard blow, and my sword bounced off of his, striking me against my leg. I received a significant cut. We were afraid to tell our parents, but Samiah knew that my wound needed proper care, so we went to the caretakers’ and had one of the children bring us a few things to bandage it. I remember the burn of the disinfectant, the blood that ran down to my ankle, and the look on my brother’s face, much like it was when I cut my foot on the broken vase. Mother never discovered my wound, likely because it was almost healed in two days, a detail that amazed both Samiah and myself.