The Bitter Taste

Leanne Fitzpatrick

Published by Leanne Fitzpatrick at Smashwords

Copyright © Leanne Fitzpatrick 2015

Visit my website at
www.leannefitzpatrick.co.uk

Smashwords Edition v1.0

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places,
characters and events are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead, events or locales are entirely
coincidental.

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No light showed from under the door when Yau woke to
the careful noises of someone trying to make no sound at all. She
rolled away from the wall and peered into the darkness.

“Tepil?” she whispered, “what are you
doing?”

“Shh, go back to sleep sister. I am going to
the lagoon to fish. This is the best time- the dawn is a while off
and the fish are drowsy.”

Yau pushed herself up and lit a tapered
candle. Soft, orange light pooled around her, accentuating the
shadows.

“Is that wise?” she asked as she watched her
brother kneel at their altar and make his sacrifice. “It is already
the season for sea maidens- they will be violent during their
laying.”

“Do not worry little sister. I am not so
foolish to go alone or leave the shore. Amoxtl joins me.”

“I don’t like it,” Yau said. “The gods are
capricious, and you take too many risks.”

He crouched down in front of her and ruffled
her hair as he smiled.

“You worry too much, little mother hen. Life
is worth the risk, and the fish are at their best this time of
year.” He kissed the top of her head. “I will be safe. I swear it
to you.”

Yau glanced at their altar and then back at
her brother before nodding.

“You have food for the day?” she asked at
last.

He nodded. “We will come back when the sun is
at its highest. We will feast tonight.”

Yau nodded again and shifted position to rest
on her knees. Tepil rose, fastened his tilma around his throat and
swung his small pack over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” Yau said at last. “There is
something wicked in the air.”

He smiled again, looking down at her.

“You have inhaled too many of the healers'
potions,” he said affectionately. “You are seeing omens in
everything.”

He crouched down again and, with his thumb,
rubbed the crease from her brow.

“Do not worry- I will be fine. I promised you
I would not leave your side. Now, smile for me, or I will be
fishing with a heavy heart.”

She smiled at last; hesitant at first, but
his teasing soon banished the foreboding from her chest.

“Be gone with you,” she said at last, pushing
his hands away. “And make sure you bring back food fit for the
gods.”

“As you wish; little sister.”

He left the hut and her frown returned. She
stared after him for a few moments and then moved over to the
altar.

She placed the candle in its holder and
stared at the depiction of the gods. The light flickered over the
faces, glistening over the embossed features. The flickering light
gave them the illusion of movement and Yau shivered, disgusted by
them. She picked up the ceremonial knife and placed it in the
sacred water, washing off the remnants of Tepil’s blood.

Yau bent her head in prayer. She prayed
longer and harder than she had in the last two years, squeezing out
as much faith as she could- hoping it was enough. She picked up the
knife. Water dripped from the obsidian blade. She pressed it to her
right forearm and pressed, slicing through flesh.

Her whole body tingled as she waited, then
she flexed her hand and her skin separated enough to let the blood
bead and then flow.

She held her arm out over the gods’ mouth,
listening to the drip of blood on stone. She whispered her prayers
of safety, reciting them over and over until her blood finally
clotted and the steady drip-drip of blood stopped.

She drew back, still kneeling, until she
heard the sounds of life in the village.

She blew out the candle and when she turned
there was a thin strip of greying light beneath the door. She rose
to her feet and made her way out to her people.

*

The news came at mid-morning. Yau raised her head
from the maize she was busy tending when she heard the shout. A
breeze ruffled her simple clothing and she felt the knot in her gut
twist a little more.

When the wail began she knew in her heart
shat her brother was dead. She dropped her tools and ran, through
the corn stalks and back into the village towards the little school
house.

She pushed through the crowd, ignoring their
protests until she came to the centre of the circle. Centehua lay
on the ground, her sobs muffled only by the grass. Around her the
people stood silent- even the children stopped their play. Two
women came forward and tried to pull Centehua to her feet.

“What has happened?” Yau asked the silent
crowd. Her stomach felt as though it were trying to claw its way
out of her body.

“Amoxtl,” one of the men said, and when he
turned to face her his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “We
heard him shout, but when we got there, it was too late...”

There was a feeling of something going thud
in the back of Yau’s mind.

“Tepil,” she said. “Where is Tepil?” she
searched the crowd, looking for her brother’s familiar face.
“Tepil!” she shouted.

Someone grabbed her arm.

“No, child,” the man said, pulling her into a
sympathetic hug. “It was too late. The maidens had already taken
him.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Amoxtl lived long enough to tell us. He
fought them. Tepil fought them until they dragged him under and he
couldn’t come back.”

Yau stood in his arms, her entire body numb.
She watched as the women finally managed to lever Centehua to her
feet and lead her away. The grip around her loosened. The people
began to move away. There would be no more work today. The priests
would come to calm and pray with them.

“No,” she whispered again. Her head buzzed
with static- thoughts half formed and then flitted away without
resistance. She fought against the emotions inside her. She wanted
to throw herself on the ground and wail until her throat was
bloodied tatters, she wanted to howl and curse the gods until they
destroyed her.

There would be no burial, she thought as she
watched Amoxtl’s remains- wrapped in a shroud- be carried to his
house. He would rest there while his soul detached itself and then
he would be buried and his soul ushered to the underworld where he
would rest. Tepil would not have that honour- without his body he
would wander forever lost.

Yau walked. It was automatic. She gave no
thought to where she was going and paid no heed to those that
called her name.

There was ice in her veins now. She was numb
to the pain of loss, to the anguish of being alone.

She recognised obstacles in her way- the
women who would help her grieve until the priests came. She did not
register their faces and pushed past them when they reached out to
stop her.

She walked faster, listening only to the
pounding of her heart and the beat of her soles on the ground.
Faster and faster, until she was running- out of the village, away
from the people. She ran across the open land until grass became
dirt and dirt became sand.

She was neither surprised nor dismayed when
she came back to herself and found she was standing at the shore,
the warm saltwater lapping at her does, the wet sand cool beneath
her feet.

The water was calm- placid; a perfect mirror
reflection of the blue sky above. Further out, past the rocks that
rose like a god’s fingers, the water was darker and choppier.
Dolphins frolicked there, rising out of the sea in graceful arcs.
It made her sick to see them filled with so much joy.

She fell to her knees, retching as the water
lulled around her limbs. She curled her hands into fists, crushing
the sand in her palm, feeling the tiny bits of grit force their way
down her nails, compressing together and forcing skin away from
nail plate.

She cried; her tears finally freed were hot
on her cheeks, dripping into the sea as she vomited up her
breakfast.

She sobbed- hard and hoarse as grief swept
over her, engulfing her mind and purging her of rational
thought.

*

She didn’t know when she had collapsed in the water,
her body still shaking. The water was both salve and irritant as it
pooled around her and then left her in gentle waves.

She became aware of the silence- only the
sound of water moving filled her ears. There was no birdsong or
singing of crickets in the long sea grasses. She became aware of
eyes watching her.

She looked up. They were there- one of them
within arm’s reach. Yau didn’t react, merely stating at them with
the same intensity they stared at her.

They were hideous- their hair hung in lank,
tangled knots. Their skin was oily black and translucent like
jellyfish. There was no emotion in their fish-eyes and when they
opened their mouths, spindles and sharks’ teeth grinned at her.

They made Yau feel sick, but there was
something enticing about them. Part of her wanted to reach out and
touch them.

Slowly she pushed herself up to sit. The
maiden closest to her grinned even wider. Yau stared into the black
pit that was her pupil. It was ringed with the most beautiful
yellow bronze colour, but they were dead eyes, filled only with
hunger.

“Come out of the water, Yau,” a voice said.
“Don’t look away from them and move slowly- please.”

Yau did as she was asked, never breaking eye
contact with the sea maiden. The creature watched her, still
smiling.

Strong fingers gripped her arms and Yau
finally broke eye contact with them. She heard their song start up
in her head.

“How long have you been down here?” the old
woman that held her asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you hear their song?”

“Yes.”

“We must go. They know you to well- they will
taunt you and call to you until you break. Their hunger is
insatiable.”

“I want to fight them, Nan. They killed
Tepil.”

“I know, my child, but I cannot let you stay
here. Not now. Come with me.”

Yau pulled back, but only half-heartedly. The
grip on her hand was much stronger than the maiden’s grip in her
mind. She allowed herself to be pulled across the beach and back
onto the grass, away from the maidens and their sirens song.

“He’s gone... What am I supposed to do
now?”

“You must endure, as we all must. The gods
now our pain and we must trust to their plan.”

“How much more pain to the gods have in their
plan for me?” Yau asked bitterly.

There was no answer as they walked, and Yaya
allowed herself to be steered away from her hut and towards the
healer’s hut that stood a little apart from the rest of the
village.

*

Smoke hung in thick blue-grey wisps in the air, heavy
with the scent of flowers and herbs. Yau ducked under it and made
her way to her accustomed seat. She had spent most of her childhood
in the corner, happily learning her craft; ready to be an important
part of village life. She picked up her old rolling board, stained
through with the juices from a thousand different leaves and
fruits.

“Seems like yesterday,” doesn’t it, Nan said.
“Here. Drink this. You are exhausted and pale. You need to rest,
and with sleep the heart and the body can heal.”

Yau took the earthenware cup and stared into
the dark liquid.

“What is it?”

“You should know,” the old healer said. “You
created it.”

Yau nodded and breathed in the steam. It
smelled of fresh grass and flowers.

“The priests will not be pleased, but I think
you need this… for your own piece of mind.”