Poem of Life II
is nothing in this world sacred?
can nothing be left untarnished?
a green soul smeared
by indifferent nature.
is this what one reaps
while one has yet to sow?
a young seedling twisted
before it has
had a chance to grow.
Mirlín was glad to get the weight off her feet and mount Midwin. This morning her left leg hurt more than usual due to the cool drizzle that fell from the skies but she didn't want to worry about it too much. She had learned to cope with her legs. Getting on horseback always helped and gave them a chance to rest.
Mirlín rode Midwin closer to Reynaer who was going through their plan for the day. "We need to find the river so we will be heading downhill and into the forest. After that we'll just follow the river until we come to the village of Brycgea," he explained and took the lead.
Mirlín decided that Fyen would ride between the man and her so that she could better keep an eye on Nightmare and give some practical riding-advice to the girl. Their pace wasn't too fast yet so Snappy managed to keep up with the rest of them. The long tails of the four mounts swung lazily and every now and then a mischievous muzzle reached for the roadside bushes.
Mirlín was surprised to feel a tinge of pride at how Fyen had embraced her new life: purposefully, getting to know her weapon, and showing interest in horseback riding. The only thing Mirlín feared was that the young girl might get carried away into the world of men like Reynaer. That's no place for a young woman. That’s hardly a place for a man!
She wished that Fyen would be able to learn the arts of fighting and the meaning of death without losing her soul to that world but in a way Mirlín felt as if a challenge had been thrown at her: that it was her job now to look after the girl and make sure she learned everything there was to learn and in the right way. The problem was, Mirlín didn’t consider herself much of a teacher, not much of a mother-figure, a guide, or not even a big sister.
But shouldn’t I at least try? She needs help with dealing all this… anger and sorrow the disappearance of her mother has caused. Or is causing. After all, we all have darkness inside us and it always gnaws on you from within. But it needs a reason to do so... and if I can advise and help her... maybe she won't get carried away. Mirlín was afraid that finding Fyen's mother gave it reason to take the girl and poison her. And the moment Fyen would see her mother, she would either want to abandon the world of danger or she would yearn it for the rest of her life. The latter Mirlín did not want for her. When bad things start to happen, your soul begins to wither and the more you suffer in your life, the darker your character turns. I've seen and felt it.
Mirlín glanced at Reynaer's back, already dimmed a little by the increasing rainfall, and wondered where and how he hid his ruthless side. For he surely had one or else he would never had made it this far. Then she thought about Desiderius who obviously wanted to fight the world but was not prepared for it at all. He probably had a big heart but thought too much of himself and Mirlín didn't know yet if Desiderius would fight or flee when they were thrown into a battle. And for some reason the woman was certain they would have to do battle sooner or later.
"Whoa, I hope we won't get lost there," Mirlín remarked, tugging at Midwin's reins.
She was gazing down from the hilltop the four had just reached. There was a forest opening up in front of them like a vast emerald sea veiled in the gray hue of rain.
"That's the Great Forest," Reynaer said and wiped water off his chiseled face. "It has a bit of a reputation. Not as bad as the Forest of Hope in Westdæl Gelendan but still dangerous."
Mirlín let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, when I got too close to those damn woods back when I was in Gelendan, Midwin grew so restless that we basically galloped the entire length of the road which went past the forest, you know, by the meadows and the ford," she explained, now noticing that Midwin's ears had gone flat against his neck and that he didn't seem too excited about starting to descend the hill towards the forest. “Woods of Hope indeed.”
Reynaer nodded. "I was on foot there. Took part in a big battle in the meadows. I think around a hundred men died there that day. The ford was red with blood." Then a strange expression came over his rough features. "That sure was a weird forest. A group of female bandits live there and while they have a pit full of bones in their main camp, they are the least danger you're likely to meet." For some reason a dreamy smile came to his lips. Brownie tossed his head, snapping Reynaer out of his thoughts. "I wonder what we'll come across here." He glanced over his shoulder. "Fyen, Des, you two probably know more about these woods than we."
"Only a bit," the raven girl said, looking slightly nervous, "and none of it good."
Desiderius was likewise eyeing the forest with a due sense of dread. As they rode into the woods, the path started fading into the undergrowth, indicating that few had traveled this way. Midwin became increasingly jumpy. He tried to turn around, his uneasiness affecting the other horses as well.
"They are restless, sir," Desiderius said to Reynaer.
The man nodded. "Just keep your eyes open, everybody."
Mirlín noticed that the man was not casually relaxed anymore but alert to every sound and kept scanning their surroundings. Mirlín glanced at the great firs that crowded around them. They stood dark and tall, old as ages. Mirlín shivered. What was more, she felt as if someone or something was watching them and that feeling unnerved her the most. The steady hum of heavy rainfall would mask the sounds of someone creeping up on them.
"My mum told me that her grandmother had told her about the Great Forest when she was a little girl,” Fyen said and tossed her head to move a few soaked black strands out of her eyes. “That the trees of these woods have spirits living among them, that the trees sometimes whisper things—"
"Things of courage and care? Friendly trees?" Desiderius interrupted.
"I suppose sometimes," Fyen shrugged, "but I remember mum telling me that not all trees are good. Some have twisted roots and others are rotten inside."
"Old wives’ tales," Mirlín muttered as she was trying to keep Midwin from breaking loose. She didn't need to get anymore spooked by trees that had wills of their own.
"I'm thirsty," Desiderius whined, frowned, and then promptly tilted his head back and opened his mouth.
"Once we find a clearing we can rest for a while and look for a brook to fill our flasks," Reynaer said.
"I'd rather not rest here," Mirlín objected and tried to calm Midwin down as the gelding was throwing his head up and down and biting his teeth on his bit. "Easy boy... save your energy for a mad gallop once we encounter some hostile trees."
They had been riding for a couple of hours when they came to a small clearing. The trees were packed so tightly around the area that if felt almost like entering a stage.
"Isn't it strange how still everything is around here?" Mirlín asked Reynaer after she had dismounted Midwin. “Might be a thunder storm coming.”
The man nodded, slid down from Brownie's back, and grabbed two empty flasks. "We should go and look for the brook, it shouldn’t be too far but the terrain’s no good for horses."
"Someone has to stay with them, then. They are too restless to be left alone," Mirlín pointed out.
Fyen was stroking Nightmare's forehead and squinted her eyes in the rain as she looked at her two older companions. "I can stay. I would probably be of least help carrying water, anyway."
"You sure?" Mirlín asked with a frown.
"Sure, I'll be all right. Just don't take too long," the girl replied, smiling uncertainly while she hung her sack on the pommel of her saddle.
"We'll be back before you know it," Reynaer assured her.
Before Mirlín followed Reynaer and Desiderius, she put her hand on Fyen's arm and whispered: "Keep an eye on Midwin. He's really nervous here and probably senses trouble coming. If he becomes more restless than that, mount Nightmare and get ready to ride for dear life, clear?"
"All right, I'll keep a close eye on him," she replied with more confidence than she had.
"Good gal." Mirlín gave her an encouraging smile. Then she followed the men and disappeared into the tree line.
"Merry meet and merry part, bright the cheeks and warm the heart. Mind ye threefold law ye should, three times bad and three times good," Fyen hummed, trying to remember the tune her mother had sung to her when she had been a small child.
The sad melody of the song seemed to soothe the horses a little so she sung the verse again as she couldn't remember the rest of the song. The minutes trod on and felt like hours. How far can the water be? It’s pouring, for heaven’s sake! Fyen tried not to remember the tales she had heard about the forest and its strange trees and spirits. As she started the song again, halfway through Midwin shifted nervously and tried to back away from the clearing. Fyen kept singing softly and went to the horse, trying to calm him down.
Just as she reached Midwin, the horse threw his head up and tilted his ears back. "What's the matter, boy?" She saw the whites of his eyes and then a single second seemed to freeze, time stood still.
Midwin let out an ear-piercing whinny, jumped on his hind legs, and then Fyen heard a rustling over the rainfall, like someone moving swiftly along the grassy clearing behind her. Trying not to get stamped on by Midwin, Fyen turned around and froze. A creature had appeared on the clearing and stood maybe ten yards from her, hunched, its bloodshot eyes squinting at the girl. It was crouching but she could still see that the creature was larger than her. It looked almost like a wild man of some kind but the deranged look in his eyes and the strings of drool dripping along his chin were not signs of human intelligence.
For a while they stared at one another. During the frozen moment Fyen noticed that the creature's hands and legs were crooked and misshapen. It looked around hungrily, eyeing the girl and the horses, and let out a long, low, haunting groan. Fyen felt her knees tremble as she tried to force herself into deciding whether she should run away, draw her sword, or try to speak to the thing before her. After all, it did look almost human. Fleeing seemed like the most sensible option but Fyen did not want to leave the horses behind, certain that the creature would hurt them if she did. The strange figure appeared to be unarmed but quickly the girl's mind manifested a myriad of ways for him to harm the horses. With newfound resolve, though riddled with worry and fear, Fyen decided to stand her ground and hope for a non-violent encounter or, at the very least, that the others would be back soon.
Without a warning the creature lunged forward and struck Fyen in the chest with its gnarly fists. She tried to retreat but the force of the impact knocked her back. The rain had made the grass slippery and with a surprised cry, the girl fell on her back. Quickly she rolled on her side and grasped the hilt of her longsword. As she was still downed, it proved difficult to draw the blade so Fyen used both hands; one to draw, one to pull back the sheath. It all happened in a blink of an eye: before she could fully stand up, the creature was upon her, grabbing at her free hand, trying to yank her off balance by wrenching her arm violently. The grip was very strong and she fell on her knees, the coldness of the watery grass and mud seeping through the fabric of her hose.
Fyen found it odd that even despite the chaotic, terrifying situation, she noticed cold, wet blades of grass stick to her stiff fingers. Again her foot slid across the muddy grass but then saw the creature's shin right in front of her and hacked at it with her sword. The blade hit edge first but as the swing lacked power, it rebounded from the connection with the shin bone with a dull clank. The creature yelped and released his grip.
Fyen managed to scramble up and turn to face her antagonist when he tried grabbing her again. This time she circled backwards and to the side and swung the blade, just like Reynaer had taught her only hours earlier. The movements felt forced and clumsy and she feared she would slip again on the soaked grass. To her surprise there was a thud as the sword sunk into the creature's extended arm. For a moment the world was still. Then all hell broke loose as the wild man let out a demented scream, his gaping eyes staring directly into Fyen's.
The girl tried telling her feet to run but they wouldn't obey her commands. She gripped the longsword with both hands and, without thinking about it, stabbed at the figure before her as her subconscious chose the method of attack that would allow the greatest distance between herself and her target. The blade sunk into the creature's abdomen, causing him to scream again. Fyen pulled out the sword and, in the throes of a full-blown panic, started hacking at him, over and over again, wherever she could, as hard as she could while her eyes closed against splatters of rain and blood.
The gnarly figure had raised his arms to protect his head from the clumsy swings but soon one of them fell off and he slumped on his knees, still screaming. Again the blade struck, this time between the creature’s neck and shoulder, cutting deep through flesh and bone. As Fyen tugged the sword free, more blood splattered on her face. The creature was yelling so loud it hurt her ears. It appeared no longer aggressive, no longer intimidating, but by now so badly injured that it was almost certainly going to die. All Fyen could think of was how to stop the screams, how to stop the demented eyes from staring at her, horrified. The scene brought back memories from her childhood, memories when she had had to put down a wounded puppy, how it had squealed when she had struck at its head with a rock, terrified as she was now, saddened as she was now.
After one more blow the creature fell on its side, the deformed body full of gaping wounds, covered in blood, muscle tissue visible in many of the cuts. Finally the voice died away with its owner. Fyen had just raised her sword up for another blow when she noticed the creature had become quiet and still. Before she could stop herself, she had landed the final strike on the still corpse which twitched upon impact, already devoid of life. Her movement was violent enough to cause her supporting foot to slip and she fell on the wet grass and mud.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, air stinging her lungs as she sat there, trying to catch her breath. Fyen didn’t care that her clothes had gotten soaked and dirtied, that she was cold and inviting illness because at the moment she didn’t trust her trembling legs to carry herself. Still Fyen forced three deep breaths and slowly stood up. Shivers of revulsion crawled along her spine when she yanked her sword free and backed away slowly from the gory corpse before her. She wanted desperately to avert her eyes but was unable to do so, her gaze locked on the bloody mass. Finally she managed to turn around and regain control of her body. Instantly she broke into a run and headed straight into the woods, her sword in one hand, stumbling on as fast as she could.
As if out of nowhere, Fyen bumped straight into Reynaer, knocking her head painfully against his studded leather armor. Before she could fall down, the man grabbed her by the arms.
"What the hell happened, Fyen? Are you all right?" he asked while constantly looking around as if waiting for attackers to appear at any moment.
Despite Reynaer holding her arms, Fyen’s feet betrayed her and she sunk to the ground. She tried to speak but all that came out were hysterical sobs. She couldn't breathe and panic took over. She was going to suffocate, everything was going dim. Then she felt a sharp pain on her cheek as Reynaer slapped her.
"Keep it together, Fyen! You're all right, you're alive!"
She looked around like a spooked wild animal. "I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive."
Mirlín and Desiderius caught up with Reynaer and Fyen, who was still sitting on the ground, trying not to lose her mind.
"What happened? We heard screaming." Mirlín asked, grimacing and rubbing her shins.
Reynaer looked at the others. "I don't know yet but she's covered in blood. Not hers though… I think."
"She looks like she just slaughtered someone or something," Desiderius exclaimed, oblivious to the murdering glance he received from Reynaer. They looked at the girl who was still clutching the bloody sword, her knuckles white, almost as white as her blood-spattered face.
"Fyen, you're ok, you're safe now. Tell me what happened," the man urged.
The steady hum of rainfall in the dense forest was oddly soothing as it helped cover the sound of Fyen’s racing heart. It took a moment before she even understood the question Reynaer had asked but then took a deep breath and finally broke into violent sobs. "I... I killed him. I just... I killed him."
Reynaer turned to Mirlín. "Could you stay with her while I go look what happened there. I'll also check on the horses."
"Of course." She knelt beside Fyen and, after a moment's hesitation, wrapped her arms around the still crying girl.
When Reynaer came into the clearing with his sword drawn, he first counted the horses. They were all there, grazing, calm as ever. No danger. He walked closer to Midwin who was a little further than the rest and then saw something on the ground.
The scene was gruesome: there was a disfigured corpse on the ground, one arm hacked off, the other connected to the shoulder only by a strip of muscle and some tendons, and his torso was full of large, deep wounds showing the bumpy muscle tissue, even bone. The face looked deranged, a part of his open jaw missing, apparently struck away by Fyen's blade. Wherever skin was visible, it was splattered and streaked with blood, now being washed away little by little by rainfall. Reynaer had seen violent deaths before but he could still feel the bottom of his stomach lurch as he pictured in his mind what had happened here. This was not how he would have wished Fyen to first experience combat.
He looked around once more, stroked Midwin's neck, and returned to where the others were waiting. Fyen had curled up into Mirlín's arms and was staring into nothingness, streams of tears still mixing with rain drops on her white cheeks.
"Mirlín, I need to do a bit of cleaning back there. The horses are unharmed. Could you stay here until I come and get you? Shouldn't take more than five minutes," Reynaer said.
Mirlín looked shaken but she replied sternly: "Do what you have to do. I'll take care of her."
"All right. Desiderius, come with me."
The men walked back to the clearing. As they came to the body, Desiderius went pale and let out a startled whimper. Reynaer slapped him on the shoulder as he walked past the young man.
"We need to dig a hole, bury the remains. You check the horses, our gear, and look if there’s any body parts scattered elsewhere than in that pile." With that he walked to Brownie, took his shield, and begun digging a hole with it.
"She's... wicked," Desiderius muttered quietly.
Reynaer kept digging. "She's not wicked, boy. Looks like she just had to fight for her life. It's always ugly. This time she happened to come out on top. These might just as well be her remains we're burying here."
Desiderius swallowed with difficulty and said nothing further. Soon the hole was deep enough and Reynaer dragged the remains into the hole. Then he kicked in a severed jaw and arm and looked at the pitiable pile in the bottom of the hole.
"Poor bastard." He tossed in the fir branch and used his shield to fill up the hole.
They both stood silent for a while until the youth spoke: "Reynaer, she's forever changed now, isn't she? Having lost her mom and now having killed a man."
"Yes, things like that do change a person. Especially someone as delicate and innocent as she is. The best we can do is just be there for her, whatever she needs." He turned around and looked at the sky. "Better fetch the others. It's getting late."
Desiderius nodded and went back among the trees. Fyen was still hanging onto Mirlín's arm as they appeared to the clearing. The woman had cleaned most of the blood off of Fyen's face but her hands and clothes were still covered in rusty brown stains. The girl kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground right in front of her feet.
Mirlín looked up at Reynaer, a troubled expression on her face. "We better get out of here, fast as we can."
The man nodded. "If we ride through the night I think we might make it to the next village. Can't recall its name but I know there's one just after the forest."
Desiderius' voice sounded from behind the horses as he was checking Snappy's saddle. "It's Coilea, my father was born there. They have an inn right at the edge of the village."
Reynaer looked at Fyen before replying. "Good, it'll be a long ride but at least we can get the horses to proper stables and a roof over our heads. Let's mount up."
