Promise of Dusk (Endings #1)

Chapter 10

We spend the rest of the day trudging through Wynedd at a breakneck pace. I spend the rest of the day trying to think of anything but empty eyes and whirling shadows. Fionn leads again, never once looking back at me. Armund gets more pallid and slow with every step.

His condition is rapidly deteriorating. He drank some poppy milk before we set out, but it mostly just made him delirious, and it faded more quickly than it should have.

As I walk behind him silently, I feel the menacing presence of Konan, the one with half-crazed eyes of obsidian, at my back. They gave me the rest of their names as we traveled.

Elva, the shadow, walks just in front of Armund. Her eyes flicker to him occasionally, checking to ensure he remains upright.

The family sticks together. Dealla, the fair-haired mother, seems to take in every branch breaking, every bird call, and every shift in the wind. She walks a few feet behind Fionn, her daughter, Aine, at her back .

Dealla has yet to speak, but Aine… well, she trudges along, boredom causing her to chirp out questions occasionally. How far have we gone? What do we think we will find in the tide pools this time? Do we think there will be crabs? How long will we be able to stay there? Are the trees on the coast really as old as the dirt like Konan said?

The father, Deri, stalks behind her with his protective bulk, patiently listening to every question and answering with genuine responses. Occasionally, he yanks at a tiny strand of her hair, making her twirl around, glaring at him adorably.

I am silent aside from my squeaking boots. Can I trust them? Will Armund make it the day-and-a-half it will take to reach the bog-lands?

He stumbles over a tree root. Elva, moving quicker than I could even react, catches his good arm, keeping him from falling on his face. Her eyes search his face for a moment. She slowly releases his arm, and he smiles weakly at her in thanks. What a poor reassurance it is.

I come up to walk beside him, as much as the narrow animal trails will allow. My shoulder brushes his arm as we walk.

I gesture to his hands in his pockets. “You walk really confidently for a man who can barely stand.” It comes out awkwardly.

I want to show him that my threats this morning were what I had to do, not what I wanted to do. I can be a friend. Sometimes people shed layers of humanity to survive. Even though I would do it again, I still feel bad about using him as leverage.

He cracks a slight smile. Generous of him. “What do you mean? I’m as steady as a rock.”

I smile back, relieved .

I wrack my brain for something else to say, feeling along the edges of my fingernails, searching for a topic to distract him from trembling of his hands, the wince with every step.

“What was it like?” I blurt out.

Armund glances up at me, brow furrowed.

“The Merrow, what was it like?” Making him think of the monster who mortally wounded him, how comforting. Diana always says my bedside manner needs work. My heart clenches.

It takes a moment for him to respond, and a moment for my heart to beat right again. He looks up and to the side, searching around in his memory.

“Horrible. It was horrible.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “I was being foolish. I saw something that made me think…” he grimaces. “Elva had warned me not to disrupt the bog too much.” He glances back at Elva, who narrows her eyes in consternation. “But I just wasn’t thinking.” He moves his eyes back, steadily on the ground. “I just saw something in the silt… It was incredibly foolish of me. Elva had told me that there was evidence that…” He looks at the others. When nobody stops him, he goes on in a lowered voice, like the wind might carry his words. “Other beings, other than us, have slipped through the passages between realms before. We had heard tall-tales of such a thing living in the bog and thought that maybe there was some credibility to the claims.”

His warm brown eyes meet mine.

The implications of such a truth goes beyond this one mission—goes beyond this continent, or this world.

The shadow cuts in, “We try to avoid them at all costs. You never know what such things will do to stay safe. To keep their secrets hidden,” Elva speaks in that even, low tone of hers, ominous with her ever-raised hood. “Humans are notoriously cruel to those that aren’t like them. We have had some unfortunate run-ins before, haven’t we, Konan?”

A rough grunt comes from the giant behind me. “How was I supposed to know that was a wood-faerie den? They build them like squirrels, the blasted things, in the most asinine places. At least I didn’t almost die for a rock like this prick.”

Armund turns slightly to snarl at Konan in all his near-death fury. “I thought it would be like one of the Danaan Merrow.” He turns back, pretending Konan isn’t chuckling behind us. “As a child, my mother had told me the Merrow were a social people. They would lure in people to the shores to sing to them, see if they could get jewels and trinkets as payment for their songs. They weren’t aggressive. They were happy with their lives in seas, ponds, rivers, wherever their schools resided. I guess that’s why I didn’t take the warning seriously.” He shrugs, tone turning wistful.

“This one was different. She looked similar, but when she came at me, she was… accusing. I don’t know how to describe it. She was angry at me. She had gone mad.” He shakes his head, confusion lining his thin face. “Probably for interrupting her space, her isolation. They usually stay in groups, but this one… there was not another with her. None ever came to her aid. Their communities are tight knit, we are almost certain she’s alone in there. Maybe being in a different world warped her brain. I know things are different here… Power is different here,” he trails off, glancing at Aine for a second before looking away again. “We aren’t sure how she even got here; we didn’t get here through any rift. She must have come through the same rift as the Fomorians, though we haven’t ever been able to find it. Or maybe someone brought her here from somewhere else.”

I don’t know if I ever want to see such a thing, yet I get closer to her with every step forward. A monster .

We are not meant to be so alone, Alyx.

When I was left alone in a place that was cold and no longer familiar to me, I turned into a monster too. Maybe it was not the strangeness of a new world, but the strangeness of having nobody to talk to that drives us mad.

I have heard of such a creature—tales of beautiful women who live in the sea, the rivers, those who lure sailors to their deaths to feed on their souls. I thought such things were the product of bored housewives, drunken merchants, anyone seeking adventure or intrigue in our world of monotony. I had never truly believed such a thing could exist, but after this morning, seeing Fionn broil the skin off a Crow, I have no choice but to believe what they say.

“Did you get what was in the silt? The rock?” I’m beginning to tire of discoveries. I hope Armund just found something shiny and that’s it.

He sighs again, almost tripping on a stone embedded in the ground. I catch him this time.He is so lanky and narrow, with long limbs. It makes it hard to steady him. He’s like an over-sized foal.

“It wasn’t just a rock, and yes.” He shoots a seething glance back at Konan, who grins back. “Although it certainly was not worth it.” He shoves his good hand in the pocket of the cloak. He pulls out… a rock. Gray and irregularly shaped, like it had been recently broken off of a larger piece. It has distinct bands around the sides; some orange, some black, some different shades of gray. Not worth it indeed. “It’s just that it holds onto things. When you turn it this way”—he flips it over in his hand, revealing a spiralled imprint of a… shell?—“it holds a memory of something that has since turned to something else. For some reason it just… I could not leave it. It sparked thought in me, so I wanted to hold onto it. ”

His eyes are so warm when they meet mine. He looks embarrassed by his sentimentality. He really is so cute, in a boyish way. Even if he is on the brink of death.

I give him what I hope is a warm smile, thinking about how Diana shows her compassion, trying to mimic it. He gives me one back, looking relieved at the lack of condemnation from at least one person.

“This one fancies himself a scholar. Thinks that he can think us out of this forsaken realm,” the voice from behind me rasps.

I look over my shoulder at Konan, his taunt glittering in his eyes. Armund just shakes his head, agitated.

“As opposed to what? Exactly what do you do?” I snap back. Something about Armund feels delicate, and it goes beyond his wounded condition. It makes me want to protect him.

Konan makes no move to throttle me as I feared he might. He doesn’t think the question warrants a response. Or he has no ability to defend himself, either is fine with me.

Armund smiles softly at me, gratitude mixed with something else. Something that makes his eyes linger just a bit too long.

The sky turns into a bruised purple, washed with the gray of clouds between the leaves of the forest canopy. We stop for the evening. The air has the crispness of night, and I can feel the hum of life settle, the forest coming to rest all around us.

The group begins setting up a camp off to the side of the animal trail we had been following. They trample the ferns and plants of the underbrush, making a place to bed down. Packs are slung to the ground, stones are placed, and a fire started so rapidly I can hardly make sense of it. I just stand there. No bedroll, no food, no clothes but the ones on my back. I find a downed tree running along the campsite and sit on it. The dampness that clings to it seeps into my cloak under my bottom. I hunch over, ready to settle in for a long, cold night.

They all find their seats, most choosing spots nearest the fire.

Even Armund lets Fionn drag him over to his side, the two jostling each other, laughing at something asinine, I’m sure. Fionn cuffs Armund’s shoulder in fraternal affection, though I see him watching every line on Armund’s face, worrying over his friend.

Aine makes her way over to me. She hasn’t spoken a word to me yet, a fact I’m glad of; I never know what to say to children.

A cloak is bundled in her arms, a bit of it dragging over the trampled brush.

Every member of the group keeps a watchful eye on the girl. And on me.

Fionn’s eyes burn the brightest, and they never leave me.

Her warmth reaches me, radiating out from where she stands, about a foot from me.

Aine, ever-so slowly, lays the sturdy wool cloak on my lap, as if I’m an alley cat, ready to dart any moment.

“My mom had an extra. I asked if you could have it for tonight,” her voice is twinkling, like bells.

She stands just around chin-height to me, not close to the end of her growth if her tall companions are any indication. Her littleness extends to her slight form. A little wren with a sing-song voice and curious eyes. Her raven-colored hair, twin to her father’s, falls to her waist in gentle waves. The only giveaways of her mother’s fairness are her pale complexion and the green shards in her eyes. She screams youthful femininity and loveliness; it makes me scared for her.

I nod in thanks, offering a sheepish smile.

Fionn is still staring when I dare let my eyes wander back to his. He doesn’t look away.

“You don’t have anything. But I’m sure we can get some things for you. A real bedroll, a change of clothes. When we pass through villages sometimes we barter for supplies or…” Aine looks back at the group. She whispers the next sentence, grinning conspiratorially. “Sometimes we steal it.” She shuffles closer. “Konan has the best snacks. He says he just finds them, but I know he goes to the markets.” She looks back to make sure he isn’t listening. He is, narrow-eyed. But she goes on anyways, just quieter. “He looks really scary, but he sneaks me some of my favorite jerky when he thinks nobody is looking. Anyways, you can come sit by me if you want. The fire is warmer over there.” She shifts her weight, rocking back and forth on her feet, waiting, looking suddenly insecure in her bid for friendship.

I cannot bear to turn away Aine’s outreached hand.

I follow her, plopping down near her, close to the flames. The warmth of the cloak and the heat emanating from the roaring fire sends my chill skittering away.

Fionn still stares across the blaze. I can’t make out his intention. I can’t bring myself to stare back.

If he has something to say, he better just say it.

Aine chatters away beside me, needing little to no input of mine into the conversation. She offers me a bit of dried meat. I take it because I know I won’t make it through tomorrow without it.

Nobody else says anything to me. The crackle and pops of the fire cover the murmurs between friends.

I wrap the borrowed cloak around my shoulders, and murmur an excuse to Aine, who takes it gracefully. I draw up the hood and lay back, letting the numbness spread to my fingers and tongue, falling into a deep sleep.

I hope the memories don’t follow me there.

Such a familiar, inescapable feeling.

That if I ever wake up again, it will be too soon.