9. Hands to Touch
I had awoken with Eth on my mind. As we prepared to leave in the morning, I couldn”t help but think about how I had left him the night before. He had claimed to tell me the truth and tried to comfort me in my distress, but I still pushed back against him. I smiled at the thought that a spectre of death had thought to offer me solace. What a strange thing. I needed to be kinder. Truly, he didn”t deserve my ire. I had effectively called him a liar. The thought of finding him and apologizing was overridden by the fact that we needed to get moving.
I will find him later.
My silence had unnerved Arit, but if Gingel noticed, she didn”t make it known. I couldn”t help but feel like a condemned man, counting the hours until the end. I had seen one once, in the city square. Father had tried to hasten our movements through the crowd to save us the shock of a public execution. I remembered the look on the man”s face, his lifeless eyes, all fight gone from them, replaced by weary acceptance. His only option was to wait, the minutes ticking down to the final breath.
I felt that despair creeping up behind me. Gingel”s death was my own. If I could bear to live after she was gone, it would be as one half-alive. My heart was disoriented, tossed upon the waves of hope and despair. I hadn”t the strength to shut out the little voice that whispered to me.
Just give up. Stop fighting. There”s no point.
”I don”t give up. Ever,” I whispered, only to myself. Determined to pursue this course, I couldn”t help but believe the gods had guided my path forward. I had found Jerica with ease, and the apothecary had given me what was required without payment.
Certainly, these are hallmarks of the gods” favor? But what is Eth except a vassal of the gods himself? Or worse, what if…the gods don”t care…
I couldn”t reconcile all my thoughts, so I set myself firmly to the task ahead and nothing more. Seeing this through to the end was the right course, no matter what Eth said.
We had loaded Bordus with the remaining food and supplies. Arit took the first shift riding and holding Gingel while I walked. With reins in hand, I guided Bordus on the trail west, away from Slivin, keeping a wary footing and listening ear. With time, I eased my tension, realizing that anything approaching our little band would be heard a long way off, crashing through the thick underbrush. There was no sneaking to be done in this forest.
By high noon, a clearing in the forest appeared with room enough to rest and eat. A small creek provided clear, sweet water and a calming babble. I stood as I ate, not willing to lower my guard, scanning ahead and behind.
The forest was alive with movement. The last buzzings of insects doomed to die off with the first frost surrounded us, and the low brush was no doubt a haven for small scurring things, darting down rivulets of tunneled trails. A heavy breath drew in the clean air, unsullied by human lungs. It rained in the last week. The musty odor of slowing decaying leaves, the first offering soughed from the trees as winter approached.
As Gingel and Arit sat and ate, oblivious, I noticed a movement ahead of us, low to the ground. It held my attention, darting back and forth, pausing for but a moment to let me see its outline.
Caniks? This could be supper.
Quietly grabbing Arit”s bow and kit, I stalked my prey ahead on the trail and then into the wood. I had admitted to myself that my hunting skills would never improve to Arit”s level, but I was a fair shot, and I needed the practice. My biggest flaws were patience and silence, but I made great strides in the latter. Thankfully, a fat, juicy bounder crossed my path, unconcerned or unaware of my pursuit.
Breathe. Draw. Anchor. Relax...Release.
My cheeks ached as an unfamiliar grin burst upon my face. Perfect headshot. Arit would be proud. This would make a delicious meal once we settled in for the night. I moved to the animal and bent down to dislodge the arrow.
”Forgive me my need for your flesh, dear one. May the gods send you to a forest far from mankind for your next life.”
Gutted but not skinned, I carried the canik by his long ears back to camp, my guard down. I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye. Making a very unladylike yelp, it took me a moment to focus on Eth”s dark figure next to a thick tree trunk.
”Oh, gods! You scared me. Forgive me, Eth, I didn”t mean to yell.”
He said nothing in response, simply blinking as he stared. The substance that cloaked him had changed. Less of a mist, it hung nearly like clothing, the vapor merely wisps. His mouth opened slightly, as if to speak, but closed just as quickly.
”Yes? Do you have a question for me?” I asked. It seemed like he wanted to know something.
”It is a strange thing to me that you speak of the gods so often. Do they respond to you?”
I thought for a moment. Mostly, I said ”gods” as a reaction, nothing more than a remnant of speech. But I had to admit to myself that I had thought of them more since Gingel”s accident. It might have seemed disingenuous to call for their aid now. I shook my head.
”They don”t. I don”t even know if the gods can hear us anymore. It is like speaking of them is a habit, not a true belief. Why?”
”It is…not for me to say.” Oh no, you don”t. You don”t get to ask that and shut down.
”What do you know of the gods, Eth?” His eyes met mine, then flitted away.
”It is not for me to dispel the notions of your faith.”
I laughed. ”If pushed to it, I”ll admit don”t have much faith in them. There is no evidence that they care about us anymore. I imagine I call upon them because I have no other choice. Eth, what happened to the gods?”
”They…slumber.” What?
”How long? How long have the gods slumber, Eth? Why do they need to sleep?” Sleeping gods?
”The gods are not what you believe them to be. They have not always been gods.” At this point, he looked mildly distressed. I wondered if he wished to tell me the true nature of the gods, but something prevented him from doing so. His eyes trailed down to the carcass in my hand in an effort to change the subject. I let him.
”Do you always speak to the dead before you eat them?”
I frowned. It might have seemed to be a rude question, but perhaps it was simply too frank.
”I”m grateful for its sacrifice so me and mine can eat. Someday, my body will decay and feed the grass that his kind will eat to live. I would thank them for their part in the cycle of life and death. One would think you would understand that, considering what you do.”
He was silent again, his gaze making me slightly uncomfortable. His look was strangely animal-like—not predatory but more akin to a kit or pup trying to make heads or tails of me. Looking down, he held his hand out in front of him as if he were examining Gingel”s thread, but it was empty. At least to my eyes.
”Strange.”
”What?” I asked. He looked up again, ignoring the question.
”I am beginning to understand your ethos. You eschew your own life in service of hers. So fiercely determined. It is as beautiful as your respect for the life of the smallest of creatures.”
Beautiful? I could feel a blush paint my face. It didn”t feel beautiful. It felt desperate, grasping, hopeless.
”Is that why you are here now? To examine my ”ethos”? That must be terribly boring.”
Eth didn”t reply. His eyes traveled beyond me, behind me. A twig snapped, causing me to whirl around.
”Who are you talking to?” Arit had followed me. ”I heard a yell and came to find you. Why are you talking to a tree?”
”I wasn”t...it”s not important. Look! I got supper!”
This didn”t satisfy his concern. He moved closer, looking at me with an unusual intensity.
”Are you sure you are well?”
”I”m fine, just…I”m thinking out loud,” I said. His eyes twitched as they narrowed.
”You”ve never had to talk to yourself before,” he said. I moved to meet him, holding out the canik.
”Well, I”ve never really been in a situation like this before. Maybe I need to talk it out now.” I smiled, hoping it was convincing. ”Give me a few more moments?”
Arit took the creature from me, pursing his lips.
”You”d tell us…me…if there was something amiss…with you, wouldn”t you?” There was doubt there. I could see it. It was well deserved at this point. I chose honesty, knowing the truth would hurt. My eyes downcast, I confessed.
”I don”t know. I really don”t. This is what I do, Arit. I think, and I do. That doesn”t always include me telling you everything. This is my burden: to keep us safe and find a way to make things right. I can”t change how I am.”
I could tell he didn”t like that answer, but he let out a big sigh, his shoulders slumping. He turned to go.
”Don”t be too long. We should be leaving soon.”
I watched him go, waiting until he was too far to hear me. Running my fingers over my head as I turned back to Eth, my fingers combed through my hair.
”Maybe he is right. Maybe I am unwell.” I looked up at Eth. ”Maybe I”ve made you up in my mind, a product of madness.”
There it was; a true upward curve at the corner of his mouth. I couldn”t help but mirror the expression.
”How do I even know you are real?” Eth didn”t respond as I stepped closer. His view never left me as I approached. Standing as close as I dared, I looked up at him defiantly, but his visage remained unchanged.
”How indeed.” Was that a challenge?
”No harm can be done by your hand? Yes? Was that what you said to me in my home?” Just the slightest of nods. ”And if I touch you?”
He produced a blackened hand, palm up, his face tilted to watch. His hands. I had thought them gloves at first, but they were bare hands, the skin blacker than pitch. I hesitated, my eyes flitting between his and the hand. If he were lying, this entire quest would have been pointless, ending with my senseless death. But who, in the whole of human existence, could say they had touched Death?
You already believe him. You wouldn”t dare risk dying and leave Gingel without aid.
I brought my fingers up to hover over his palm. A sweet, sick feeling filled me, a swaying in my gut, a memory of my first step on a ship”s deck. He hadn”t moved. There was no expectation on his face, just waiting. My eyes closed, a breath exhaled, and my fingers settled gently into his hand. His skin was soft and firm, like a princeling who had never acquainted himself with labor. I slid one finger from the palm, slowly tracing a line along the inside index. Such a simple act, yet it sent sparks of sensation skipping across my lovelorn skin.
”Why do you close your eyes?”
”I wanted to see if you felt...different? It is easier to feel if I close my eyes. You do feel off. There is an energy, a vibration. It makes you feel almost fuzzy. Not as blatant as the thread”s vibration, but similar.”
I smiled as I opened my eyes. He stared intently at me, and I couldn”t help a rising desire to know what he was thinking. I laid the length of my hand along his, the skin the same temperature as the air.
”I expected your hand to be cold,” I said. His head tilted to the other side. A laugh was desperately stifled. He looked like that haround pup, inclining quizzically. ”Do you feel this? What does my touch feel like?”
He glanced at our hands as I entwined our fingers. After being silent for a good while, his loose hand raised, and a single finger stroked my knuckles down my hand to the wrist. I held my breath as he moved. My heartbeat demanded to be acknowledged, pounding as he turned my hand over, his touch sliding across it, circling my palm. Something strange was forming inside me, building, twisting.
He looked up, finished with his experiment.
”There is no sensation. My hands feel like tools rather than my own body. You do ask things of me that I had never pondered.” His wonderment seemed so human. In that moment, I thought I saw the man that he had been.
There may be no sensation for you, perhaps, but my skin is on fire. This new thing writhed in my mind. This ache. A steady pull.
I should have asked, but I feared the answer would be no. His hands were physical things, but what of his face? My hand drifted up to cup his cheek, the course his own had traveled last night before he balked. Soft like his hands, I ran my fingers gingerly along his pale skin, my thumb gliding along his cheekbone. He stilled again.
Close enough to observe the movements of his eyes, they made small adjustments, darting from my eyes to my lips and back again. Then, smoothly, his hand dared to approach again, barely grazing a cheek as my own hand had done. A thought, an imagining, sprung to my mind. My eyes closed as I played the scene in my mind. What had he looked like before he died? He seems handsome enough now; was he more so then?
Inclining my cheek, I pressed it against his palm. I felt reckless, pursuing this impossible thought: What would it have been like to be with him?
I was so close to him now that I could see the texture of his skin as I took in his features. What is this? His head had been smooth, bereft of hair, pale as a skull. But now, a shadow brushed across it. I leaned in. Hairs had appeared there, as if shaved, only to regrow. Eth caught me looking, and I shied away. Gods, I feel foolish.
He dropped his hand abruptly, looking back behind me.
”Your companions are making ready to leave.”
Just as well.Shame at my foolishness pushed me to break away. I turned to walk back and join them.
”Why have you not told them of me?” The thought had dogged me for a while.
”If I”m the first human who has ever seen a guide, that you know of, I imagine I would only be seen as a lunatic if I were to admit it. Even to them. They need me to be steady, in control. They depend on me. But I need their trust as well.”
”I see.”
I returned to the creek, filled the waterskins in the creek, and settled the canik between them to cool until we stopped for supper. Arit”s eyes followed me, watching my every move. I would need to be more careful when I spoke to Eth in the future.