Alyssum - Chapter Five
By sundown, the wind outside had become particularly vicious. Aeo could hear its anger from inside the cave quite clearly. Considering there wasn't much else to do besides listen and rest, Aeo laid against the back wall of cave and simply...did nothing. For the first time in his young life, there was nothing to clean, nothing to sweep or mop, and no orders to take. It was also the first time Aeo realized his shirt had been removed and put... somewhere. Considering the number of holes and patches keeping it together, Aeo wondered if Leon hadn't simply thrown it away. Although the blizzard outside told him he should care, Aeo simply didn’t at all for that ratty old thing.
This strange place. Maybe not home. But freedom from worry. Most worry, anyway. Far better than the inn, at least.
Aeo struggled not to think. It didn't work. There was nothing else to do.
He thought about what he'd be doing back at the inn at that moment. Probably wiping down something. Probably being blamed for something. Probably being hit for something he didn't do. Maybe refilling Harthoon's mug and getting it splashed in his face.
Aeo shuddered and stretched his arms.
Never going back.
His limbs no longer felt sore and lifeless. The opposite, in fact. They still longed to move something, sweep something, mop something. When his feet healed, Aeo decided, he would work for Leon and Pick. He might even work for Shera, so long as she never... What did she even do? Leon said she didn't 'protect' him. His head still hurt from the experience. But it was a distant memory compared to the dull aching pain of his bruised eye and frozen feet.
Aeo tenderly rubbed the bruise. He could feel his heart beat within it.
What would he say to Leon? That he burned down the only home he could remember and fled the scene? He certainly couldn't admit to being a slave. What if Leon already knew? But there was no family to return to, no friends that would miss him. But he could already imagine Harthoon’s and Ariste’s terrifying faces as they clubbed him to death for burning down the Grey Pale.
But no one in the entire village would miss him. Right? Would they actually send out the bloodhounds after him like the hunters do when tracking a wild animal? Would they search for the boy that burned down the inn and put him to death?
Aeo promptly stopped entertaining those thoughts.
Would Leon and Shera let him stay on the mountain? Or would they force him to return to Olvaren? That couldn't be true. Leon didn't seem like a mean or forceful man, nothing like his former masters. He was certainly a man of some refinement if his clothes were any indication. And although Aeo knew Shera didn't like him at all, Pick was more than happy to be friends.
Maybe he could stay, live on the mountain forever. He decided he wouldn't mind that. So long as that terrible headaches and nosebleeds stayed at a minimum.
The big cave door creaked. Aeo sat up. In wobbled a great furry mass, which stopped halfway in the cave to shake off the light layer of snow that covered it.
Aeo felt a panic tear through his mind.
It couldn't be her! Not now! Not when I’m alone!
A pair of curious eyes spotted Aeo, and the furry creature growled quietly as a thought entered Aeo's head.
<The color teal. A humil boy hopping up and down.>
“Oh. Hi... Pick,” Aeo said. The panic in his mind panicked as he attempted to interpret the foreign thought. “Uh, hopping...? Oh. I don't think I should walk yet. My toes still hurt.”
After closing the door with the rope, Pick clambered over to the corner of the room where his bed lay. He circled a couple of times and finally rested himself with a thud. His head came down across Aeo's lap as it had before, and he whimpered a sad song as he looked up.
“It's okay,” Aeo said, petting Pick's muzzle. “Leon said I'll be better soon. I believe him.”
<The color green. A humil boy chasing a wolf. Then a wolf chasing a humil.>
“Um... Is that... playing?” Aeo asked. “You like to run around?”
Pick barked, a sound that made Aeo flinch from the volume.
“Ah, uh... I guess you do.”
Then, the worst possible scenario occurred. Again. Pick lifted his head and did his best to lick Aeo's face. He nearly succeeded. This time, Aeo defended himself, and received wolf slobber all up and down his hands and arms.
“H-Hey! Eww, d-don't do that...!” he cried.
Pick obeyed as he placed his head down again. His eyes seemed to grow distant, looking away.
<The color blue. A wolf licking a humil boy.>
Aeo frowned, wiping his arms on the fur blanket.
“Blue is sad? It makes you sad... when you lick me?”
Pick growled and shook his head. That wasn't it.
“Oh, it makes me sad?”
Pick yipped quietly.
“No, it doesn't.” Aeo said. “It's just... messy, that's all.”
Pick looked up at Aeo from his lap.
<The color blue. A humil house in the snow. A humil boy running away from it.>
Aeo's eyes grew wide.
“Yeah, I was just... I mean, you... I wasn't...” Aeo tried to slide backwards only to find himself without sliding room. He placed a hand to his lips and whispered. “Y-You can't read my mind... can you?”
Pick shook up and down with airy laughter and shook his head back and forth.
“Oh. That's... Uh, y-yeah, good. I mean, I was just thinking about... some things.”
<The color purple. A humil boy falling down. A wolf howling.>
“Falling...?” Aeo reached out for the bruise surrounding his eye. “Oh, no, I didn't... trip and fall. Some people... they hurt me. I ran away from them.”
Pick growled louder than he had in the past.
<The color red. A wolf chasing after humils.>
Then:
<The color blue. A wolf licking a humil boy.>
“I know, Pick. I got angry too.” He fell silent, but something stirred inside him.
Not sadness. Anger.
“I couldn't do anything about it. I can never do anything. I'm a worthless... Edian bastard child. I’m useless. I’m lazy. That's what they told me. Every day. Every day!” Aeo threw his fist in his lap and felt tears coming to his eyes. He couldn't stop the words from coming. “I started a fire. In the inn. I wanted it to burn everything down. I wanted all those people to stop hurting me. The fire would make it go away. I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted it to get bigger and bigger, and make it all just… disappear!”
Pick whined and drew his head closer to Aeo's chest.
<The color purple. A small fire spreading to a humil house.>
“I didn't mean to do it,” Aeo said. “It was an accident. At first. But they'd never believe me. They'd never believe I didn't light it on purpose just to make them stop. It started really small at first, and it even burned my hand, but... It didn't hurt me. It just kept burning. When they tried to put it out with water, it just burned brighter and brighter...”
Pick watched him silently.
“It didn't stop them. They just beat me more. Did... this.” Aeo pointed to his face. “Threw me down on the ground and told me to get help. But I didn't help them. I didn't. I hope the inn burned down. I hope Ariste and Harthoon are stuck in the cold like me. I hope they're angry, because they can't do anything about it. I'm never going back there. No one's going to make me. I hope they freeze to death!”
Aeo squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never been able to say such things out loud, and he realized his voice had been echoing against the stone walls of the cave. Everything was quiet for a moment except for the howling of the wind outside the door. Pick simply watched Aeo as he regained his composure.
Carefully, Aeo raised his hand and passed it over the soft fur on Pick's head.
“I'm sorry,” Aeo said quietly.
Pick lifted his head a bit.
<The color purple. An image of a small wolf with two large wolves surrounding it.>
Aeo frowned.
“Two big wolves…? What do you... mean?”
<The color purple. The two large wolves licking the smaller wolf and howling.>
Aeo's shoulders fell. That thought hadn't occurred to him in a long time. The only two 'large wolves' he'd ever known beat him on a daily basis.
“Oh. A... mom and dad.” Aeo shrugged. “I... I don't have any.”
Pick whined.
“I don't... know who my dad was. I... guess I had one. Ariste told me my mom died when I was really little. At least I think that's what they told me. She also said… When I was born, I lived really far away. Then something happened, and I was brought to Olvaren to live with... with them.”
Aeo paused.
“If I had parents, I don't think they would have hit me.”
Pick's head bobbed up and down. He then started panting, and his breath filled the air.
<The color teal. A large wolf licking a small wolf.>
Aeo rubbed his nose with his arm.
“Yeah, I'm glad you have a mommy,” Aeo said. “She takes care of you and she's never mean to you or makes you do chores...”
Pick howled.
<The color blue. A small wolf running away from a large wolf.>
"I don't... Running away from... Shera? Oh, you mean she does make you do chores? That stinks.”
Pick gruffed.
“But,” Aeo said quietly, thinking. “If... If Shera asked me to do chores for her, I'd do them, I think. If it meant I never have to go back to the village ever again, I'd do it.”
<The color teal. A humil boy hugging a wolf.>
“Yeah,” Aeo said. “I don't have to live with Ariste and Harthoon anymore. I can live with you instead, and you'll never be mean to me. Right?”
Pick lifted his head and howled quietly at the ceiling. It then fell back down into the boy's lap. He had a grin on his face, Aeo could tell.
“I'm... sorry," Aeo repeated. "I don't want to be sad anymore.”
<The color green. A wolf howling.>
“Just... Don't tell any of this to Leon or... your mama,” Aeo said quietly. “Okay?”
Pick's paws rose up and covered his snout.
“Thanks, Pick," Aeo said.
Pick's head rose and gave a light airy howl.
* * * * *
Hearing the boy through the roar of the wind wasn’t a simple thing to do. The tempest wards inside the cave were aided by the animis of the lit candles; outside, he only had his freezing bare hands and the small silver talisman he wore at his neck. Certainly not the proper tool for the job. Despite the improper focus and his great distaste for the task, however, it had to be done.
Holding his left hand outwards, he gently touched the great wooden door, being cautious not to make it creak and startle the occupants inside. A hazy purple glyph flickered to life between his fingers, the magickal energy distorting in the heavy mountain gale. His right hand rose to ear level and began to shimmer with a similar purple mist. Beneath his heavy ashanti fur coat and linen tunic, the silver talisman began to heat up. It had been at least a year since he’d practiced this trick, and back then he’d had the candles to act as the foundation.
Oh well. Nothing like improvisation.
The moment his ear popped, he felt his animis begin to sap away as quickly as his body heat.
He knew it was working when he heard the following, reverberating through the wooden door like a distant canyon echo:
"...didn't... trip and fall. Some people... they hurt me. I ran away from...”
Keep talking, boy...
His hand slipped from the surface of the doorway for a moment, causing the sound he heard to scratch and warble. He gave in, allowing his hand to rest upon the door a bit firmer than he would have cared to. The door made no noise in response.
“...fire. In the inn. I wanted it to burn everything down. I wanted all those people to stop hurting me. The fire would make it go away. I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted it to get bigger and bigger, and make it all just… disappear!”
A fire. So that was the source of the smoke column.
“I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. At first. But they'd never believe me. They'd never beli... it on ...pose just to ma... em stop. It started really small ...first, and it even burn... hand, but... It didn't hurt me. It just kept burning. When they tried to put it out with water, it just burned brighter and brighter...”
His ear popped, and a bead of sweat formed on his brow. The sound was garbled at best. I can’t handle even this, for a few mere seconds… The silver talisman was growing hot beneath his skin, like a piece of metal baked in hot sunlight. The glyphs within his fingers wavered like ripples of raindrops on a still pond, threatening to vanish entirely.
Resisting the urge to grunt through the strain, he again touched the large wooden door with his left hand and held his right hand to his hooded ear. His ear popped.
“...I didn't help them. I didn't. I hope the inn burned down. I hope Ariste and Harthoon are stuck in the cold like me. I hope they're... because they can't do ...thing about it. I'm never ...ing back th.... No one's going to ma... .... I hope they free...”
With a whirr-like ping just loud enough to momentarily deafen him, the glyph in his right hand vanished, followed by a silent fading of the left glyph. The trick was finished. Desperate to keep his volume down, he tore open his coat and tore the talisman from his neck. It fell into the snowdrift beside the door as steam began to billow from the small crater of snowflakes it created.
Gingerly, he bent down and scooped up a fistful of snow, passing it underneath his shirt and pressing it against the center of his bare chest. No doubt it would burn for a fair number of hours.
If only I had remembered aloe. I didn’t think I’d be burning myself on this frozen mountain.
He had learned three important things. First, that the boy was indeed the property of the man and woman who owned the inn at the center of Olvaren. He had observed the Edian boy and his Antielli owners before, perhaps a few months prior while gathering supplies from the trail merchants.
Ariste, yes. That was the woman’s name. What a horrid person, to treat a young boy as her own personal boxing dummy. Prejudice and slavery should have died with the War. Yes, the woman and her detestable husband deserved punishment for causing such abuse. But did they deserve for their inn and their livelihood to go up in flames?
Second, the boy had started the fire that consumed the inn. Based on the size of the smoke column that rose from Olvaren the day after the boy had arrived, however… there’s no way a single burning inn could cause it alone. The conflagration must have spread to other buildings, most likely the market next door and the town hall beyond that. Further than this, he could only speculate the potential damage.
And the third piece of pilfered knowledge confirmed what he had felt in the boy: Aeo held a strong animis inside of him for someone of his age, a flickering spark that had the potential to consume everything he touched… or, with proper instruction and guidance, could become a torchlight in the darkness of the boy's life.
Maybe, Leon thought to himself. Maybe with that kind of power…
But no. It was too early to think so optimistically. Just about everything at his disposal was untested. Unproven. Seven years of questions, including twenty months on a mountaintop, and still everything remained painfully hypothetical. The boy, if he even had the talent, was simply the most recent complication.
Leon looked around, still pressing the ice to his chest. Shera was nowhere to be found, no doubt scouting the mountain for danger. While he could no longer hear Aeo’s voice inside the cave, the door remained shut.
No need to bother them now.
Leon stooped down, and dug through the ice for his talisman with his free hand. The engraven image of a diving falcon seemed undamaged, as did the small garnet gemstone that served as the falcon’s eye. Though still quite warm, Leon pocketed the talisman in his coat pocket. And for a split second, the memory of his father’s face flashed in his mind as he stepped away from the wolf den.
If only he knew.
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