Everlasting (2)

A serialised fantasy story. Part 2. And there will be more. I'm not sure, maybe two more parts. I'll just write on and we'll see. Oh, the joys of being a pantser...

Previously: Part 1

He was dead. Dead and gone to the underworld as a punishment for the carelessness of his young heart. He had laughed at the perils of war. He never listened to the warning of the old when he marched into battle laughing, singing, and whistling. He slaughtered men who had done no harm to him, soldiers just like him, sent to murder strangers for a war they’d never started.

Aereus had imagined the underworld, the place for the souls so dark even the Foreverold had cursed them, might be exactly what he woke up to – darkness reeking of smoke, pain in his every limb, devious memories full of regret riddling his weary mind. A whole eternity of these tormented minutes lay ahead of him. The only item puzzling Aereus was the hilt of the sword he could grasp near him. Why was he allowed to carry his sword into the underworld?

“A sword both takes and gives the strength to a warrior. That is why,” a woman’s voice replied to his question, because Aereus had said it out loud without noticing. She got up from the dark corner of the shack she was sitting in, for it indeed was not underworld, but merely a small wooden shack. “You have a warrior’s heart. A sword gives you strength to find your way. But today – you must rest.” The woman stirred a pot hanging above glowing embers of the hearth. Whatever she was brewing, it obviously demanded a slow and gentle touch of heat.

“Who are you? Where’s the… the Autumnian woman?” Aereus said, attempting to get up. Yet his strength failed him, and he would’ve fallen back onto the bedding if not for the sword he used to steady himself.

“Be still, young warrior,” the old woman said, smiling. “She is weak but alive. Your struggles paid off.”

“What do you know of my struggles?” Aereus muttered under his nose, making a futile attempt to get up. He lost balance and fell back onto the bedding.

“The Foreverold is punishing me for disrespecting an elderly woman,” Aereus said bitterly.

“The Foreverold is punishing you for being a hasty young fool,” the woman snickered. “You must rest now.”

Aereus let his restless gaze wander around the place, searching for the woman. She lay on the other side of the dimly lit shack, and Aereus could hardly see her features. Yet, her chest was rising and falling. The old woman hadn’t lied, Ani was alive.

The old woman kept stirring whatever it was in the pot.

“I shall leave her here with you, medicine woman. My path leads westward,” Aereus said plainly. He had no desire to spend more time on enemy’s ground.

“I am a Birdling Healer, a medicine woman indeed. My name is Crane, and you are not leaving this shack until you’re strong enough, Hebenian warrior!” She said giving the youngster a firm stare.

“Birdling? Avem is far away from here,” Aereus pondered, staring at the ceiling. It was covered with bunches of healing plants like a ghastly upside-down meadow. “Why can’t you take care of the woman? I cannot help her anymore.”

“I have somewhere else to be soon. I follow the will of the Foreverold. Shall you leave an unguarded woman in the wilderness?”

Aereus kept his silence spitefully but after a short while forced out, “I cannot,” through his teeth. “She was unguarded on the battlefield!” he added as if to justify his silence.

“I was not…” a soft voice said. Ani the Autumnian woman was awake.

“You said it was not your choice? Why…? Where was your father?” Aereus’ own voice sounded much softer than before. He did not know why. Maybe the misery the two had shared tripping over dead bodies for hours in the cold and darkness had softened his heart toward the woman.

“He died… shielding me on that battlefield. A blacksmith, he was… I knew swords. I did not know battle…”Ani took a deep breath, “when soldiers came to our forge, father disguised me as a boy.”

“Why?” Aereus nearly yelled. What kind of a father would do that?

The old woman chuckled, stirring the pot.

“Even a youngster like you must’ve heard what Autumnian soldiers do to women they meet on their path?”

Aereus blushed in the darkness. Indeed, he knew of these despicable deeds. Autumnian soldiers had no respect for women, even the ones living on their land.

“They saw a young boy and his father… they took us to the battle straight from the forge.”

“Enough talking! It is time to heal the wounds, not rip them open,” said Crane, poured a foul-smelling potion from the pot into two clay cups. She helped Ani up, and made her drink the cup empty. The poor girl shivered from disgust.

“What is that? It’s terrible!” Ani squealed.

“I see you are feeling better, young lady. Good,” Crane said smiling, “now your turn, warrior.”

Out of all drinks Aereus had the chance to taste in his eighteen summers, this was the worst. He swallowed without complaining yet could not hide the childish disgust on his face. He noticed Ani smiling at him.

“And what is in it?” Aereus asked to draw attention away from his blushing cheeks. It was dark in the shack, but he could not be sure she didn’t notice.

“You do not want to know, youngsters. I can promise, however, you will feel better in no time. With your wounds treated, all you need to do now is rest,” Crane said with a nod. She began to hum a melody, a soothing lullaby sung in a bird’s voice. Her long, white hair had a silver glow to them, her voice took Aereus into the realm of dreams. Aereus fell asleep with Ani’s dark eyes looking at him over the dying embers, and the hilt of his sword he held tightly in his hand. If it were indeed the underworld, he thought, Aereus would gladly suffer an eternity such as this.

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Thank you for reading! Read Part Three here