‘Please don’t have run out… if anything out there is listening… please don’t let me have run out…’ Skana begged in the quiet storm of her mind as she looked at the naked back of her idol. “They were afraid of you.” She said it quietly, her lips barely a quiver as the words passed between them.
Her hand still fumbled in the little pouch on her hip until she closed her fingers around what she sought. ‘Thank you… you bastard.’ She cast the thought toward Bodger and yanked out the little fabric full of crushed herb. She threw it into the little basin of water and stirred it with her finger until her skin turned green.
“I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do.” She said to the unconscious woman as she looked down at the shredded back where the lash struck. The now green water began to emit a foul odor, and had she not needed both hands, Skana would have pinched her nose shut.
“Oh by the gods… the taste is in my mouth…” She wanted to retch, it was worse than the dingy, uncleaned room, the foul odor seemed to stick to her tongue, but Skana did her best to ignore it.
With a gentle hand she took up the cloth, dipped it into the green water, and began to wash Speranzi’s back, dabbing and moving ‘with’ the path of the cuts rather than against them.
“Bastards… the unmitigated bastards…” She mumbled as she wiped the blood away. “This won’t heal you.” Skana apologized to the unconscious body, “But it will keep you from a fever, who knows how long it will take that jackass to get here to help you. And if you wait out the odor, at least it will do something about the pain.”
She knew that Speranzi couldn’t hear her, but she talked to her anyway. Again and again she soaked the cloth till it was green as grass and wiped the injured places. She sat finally and put a hand on Speranzi’s cheek.
“You’ll be okay. I promise you’ll be okay. You have to be okay.” She clenched her eyes shut tight. “If anything will listen to the prayers of a murderess… a brigand… a thief… a liar… a whore… a peasant… a beggar… then I beg you to save someone better than me. Please. Not anyone else. Just give some help, some strength to the maid of the door. Comfort her. Heal her or at least let her live long enough to be healed.”
Skana’s body shook as if she were trapped naked in a blizzard, her hands shook hard enough that she had to lay the cloth over the wounds that dripped red trails down Speranzi’s side to stain the crude mattress forever crimson.
She stared blankly at the limp body, “I hate you all.” She mumbled and closed her hands one over the other in her lap. “Stupid old do-nothing gods… in all your stories you gave visions to the penitent and saved the desperate… you chose heroes to represent you and change the world. But here’s a real hero and a real penitent begging for your help… and you’re silent. Fuck all of you… You could heal her in an instant if you were listening…”
She blinked back tears and stared at the open gashes that exposed the bone beneath the flesh. She knew the admonition that a priest might give to her, ‘If you were pure of heart, they’d listen to you. The flaw lies in you, not in the gods, do not blame them for your failings.’
It rang hollow now.
She reached out toward the face of her hero, Speranzi lay so that her face was turned to the side, toward Skana, the straw colored hair partially concealing her eyes.
Skana touched the warmth of Speranzi’s forehead and brushed the strands aside to look at the narrow, closed eyes. Even unconscious, Speranzi’s face was the definition of fearsome. Her eyes accounted for most of it, but even down to the slight narrowness of the nose and the way the bridge arched upward, and the thin lips that so easily bared her teeth… the high cheekbones that should have been a mark of noble ancestry… it all conspired to give her a naturally almost demonic expression.
‘I thought it was battle, but this really is just how she looks…’ Skana reached up and touched her own face. Her features were a little squared, but her own eyes were wide and vibrant, their bright grass green danced in pools of white, and her auburn hair added a delicate frame to her face that drew many a wandering eye toward her in the past.
“But you’re not ugly to me, not scary. Maybe you would be if I hadn’t seen you that day. I’m sure I’m the only one still alive to hear what you shouted at the demihumans. But I did hear, and I see so much more… so you have to stay alive. You have to.” Skana whispered, she was less speaking to the unconscious woman whose warmth radiated over damp fingertips, and more praying to the uncaring void of gods who she was sure were ignoring her prayers.
‘Anything… please. I’ll give anything. God. Demon. Fucking vampire! I don’t care!’ Skana took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her brow when she felt it running down her skin.
‘I suppose any answer I would hope for is pointless. The answer will come with her life or death or… whatever happens next.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat, though she hadn’t mentioned it to Sudaj or to Gil, she had enough experience in observing the aftermaths of beatings like this that it wasn’t uncommon for people to die within hours. Some from the shock to the body, some just gave up, others caught fever and died not long after.
The herb she used on Speranzi was the same one she’d applied to her own injury when the arrow struck, along with water from the rain, so there was reason to be confident at least.
Still, the lack of a healing potion or a mage was trouble. Magic would heal her quickly, depending on the severity of the wound and the power of the caster. However, the warning of the guards that helped her lingered in her mind.
“Fuck it.” Skana whispered to the darkness. “You stay here.” She said to the sleeping Speranzi and then stood up. She reached out and touched the intact skin of Speranzi’s body, indifferent to the blood that stained her fingers. “I’ll be back, I promise. I’m just going to go be the shit that didn’t deserve your mercy, and then I’ll be back.”
She turned on her heel and left the dim room with the unconscious woman on the bed.
It was only when she was greeted by near total silence that Skana realized how much time must have passed down in the dingy room beneath the inn. The moon was bright and the stars were twinkling, here and there on the street corners she could hear the flickering of burning fires from the public torches that provided more illumination, but she could hear no voices.
No laughter.
No carousing or chaos.
And every interior light was gone.
She looked to her left and to her right, and found herself on an empty street.
It was so quiet that she could hear the waters of the Long River passing through the city, their torrent was not inconsiderable, and it said something about the size of the city that during the busy hours it had been inaudible to her.
‘A lucky break.’ She thought and followed the noise of the river. There was one thing she was fairly sure of, and that the apothecary class of caster could be found near the water. ‘What was it the old man back home used to say…?’ She struggled to remember, but already even the faces of he and his wife were starting to fade from memory.
The village apothecary was the only one to not live clustered with all the others, instead his house was close to the waters of a creek that passed through the woods. It was one of her favorite places to play once, and so she recalled speaking to him more often than most of the others, and picking up a few little lessons along the way. Lessons she now felt herself in danger of forgetting as they died from lack of use… until recently.
‘A potion can’t be made with impure water, that’s why you’ll always find people of my trade by creeks and rivers. If you’re ever lost, find a river and follow it, sooner or later you’ll find an apothecary mixing potions.’ She wasn’t sure if those were his exact words, but they were close enough.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
So she followed the noise of racing waters through the darkness, her feet moving ever faster under her, there was no reason not to run, she ran so quickly that the common torches that lit the corners of the streets barely had time to cast her shadow on the ground before she passed them by.
The other thing she knew about apothecary houses was that nobody wanted to live right next to one. So first she followed the noise of the water and the twisting, turning roads of Laylan before the stench struck her nose just as she came to the low wall that kept the river from overflowing into the city in high rains.
To her surprise, she found that here of all places, she was not alone. A figure stood wreathed in shadows looking out over the water. ‘Great, a witness.’ Skana pursed her lips and darted her eyes toward the two floor building that stood slightly apart from the others. ‘Could they find out it was me just based off one person saying… no, who knows? Maybe he has a vision talent and can see in the dark? Maybe he could tell who I am by scent… ugh, sometimes I really hate magic… should I just get rid of him?’ She reached for the knife at her side as she considered the option.
But before she’d made her decision and even taken a few more steps, she heard him speak. “Come to join me in a wishing?” He asked, his voice cracked and filled with a sense of loss, there was a depth of misery there that stilled Skana’s hand.
She dropped her hands at her sides. ‘I’ll get rid of him another way.’ She resolved and strode over toward where he stood.
“A wishing?” She asked, “I’m sorry… old man, I’m new here.” She said it as sweetly as she could and approached where he stood.
“Oh.” He turned his back to her and nudged a little basket by his feet, she looked down, he was cast in triple shadows, the night, wall, and a passing cloud obscuring the moon. Only his outline was visible to her, but she could hear the noise of rocks in the basket.
“A wishing is a thing we do in this city… a tradition. Will you join an old man for a moment, maybe help him a little… the basket is heavy and bending is harder than it used to be.” He asked of her, his voice a heavy scratch that was caught like he was holding back a lifetime of tears just beneath the surface.
“How?” Skana asked.
“Just hand me a rock every time I throw one.” He said and held the stone in his hand close to his chest. He bowed his head in silence for a moment, then threw it into the water where it splashed and disappeared.
Skana crouched, picked up a rock from the basket, and handed it to him. “The Long River… we say it carries spirits away to judgment, and either torment or rest. Rocks… we throw these… we send prayers, wishes, with them. They go to the other ancient gods… not the seven in the temples. But the unnamed ones whose names are lost.”
“Doesn’t this just lead to the lake by Wenmark?” Skana asked and the shadow wreathed hand yanked the stone out of her hand.
“That lake was a lot more, once.” The old man said, then paused to pray and then cast his stone into the water. “There was a great hall there, a house of the gods themselves, when they all lived together, a much loved family… not that many people believe that anymore.” He snorted and accepted another rock from the crouching Skana.
“So these stones are to do… what?” Skana asked.
“Ask for help. Ask for healing. Ask for messages to be given to the dead. A lot of things. Me, I send them on, asking for my own lost comrades to come home, maybe something there will listen.” He said it with the weariness of a man engaged in long and heavy toil, and Skana could feel the weight of it on him, how he held the stone wall for support with one hand, and held out a shaking shadowy palm to her for another rock to throw.
“You sound like one of those gods yourself.” She laughed, but the old man did not.
“A priest would call that blasphemy.” He said, and Skana shrugged.
“It’s a joke, old man. Besides, the gods despise me, so I’m pretty sure you’re not one of them. There’s no way any gods would ever show themselves to the likes of… well… me. What’s a little blasphemy going to do to make things worse?” She asked and handed him another rock. ‘If I can just get him to throw these, he’ll leave on his own.’ She told herself, and the old man paused to pray before repeating his throw.
“You don’t know that, I could be just a lonely god out to talk to a lonely and lost young woman and distract myself from my thoughts.” He said, and he sounded almost indignant.
“Fine,” Skana took up two rocks in her hand and stood up, she held one out to him and said, “say you are a god. Then you’re here and you owe me answers. Why are you all such shits? Why send monsters and demons into our lives? Why burn down my home? Why are you all so cruel to Speranzi? How dare you do horrible things and react badly when we react badly to it?”
“You’d question a god, like that?” The old man asked and showed his back to her while throwing the next stone. When she didn’t reply, he said, “Maybe the gods sleep? Maybe they left this world. Maybe they don’t know any better than you. Maybe they’re just lonely and bored… maybe they’re trying to save the world from something worse and this is the only way they know to create people strong enough to fight beside them? Maybe they never planned any of this, and they’re just lost like you…” He threw the second stone a moment later.
“Maybe people just need to make the right offer, or tell them how to help?” He extended his hand for another stone which Skana placed into his waiting palm. “Maybe they just need a kind and selfless word to show them it’s not just a world of utter shit and it is worth saving?” He suggested and asked, “Would you like to borrow one of my stones?”
Skana looked down into the basket, “The gods have always hated people like me, if I throw one, they’ll probably just do the opposite out of sheer spite.”
“You listen to the priests too much, young lady. Go on, take one, make a wish, offer a prayer, who knows, maybe one will listen?” He encouraged her, and after a half second of hesitation, she crouched and took one up and clutched it to her breast.
‘Whatever happens, I know how to get by in the world. I did it without you. I’ll keep doing it till we can meet face to face and I can finally spit in your eye for it all. But just help that one. Just that one. She’s not bad. Just looks that way, give her a better life, heal her… help her. Save her. If you need a price, I’ve only got one life, one soul, do whatever with it. And if you won’t listen to me now, then go fuck yourselves.’ She squeezed the stone so hard in her hand that she wondered if it might crack, then threw it as hard as she could down into the water where it disappeared into the flowing darkness.
Another stone followed hers.
“Do you feel any better?” The old man asked.
“A little bit, actually.” Skana admitted, and the old man cackled with raucous laughter.
“I’m no gambler, but I’ll bet whatever you said was blasphemous.” His laughter was richer than before, deeper, younger, as if his certainty of her mockery restored something of his spirit.
“Should I tell you, or-?” Skana asked and handed him another stone.
“You should only tell the gods your prayers and dreams, as people have a way of sabotaging them once they’re known.” He said and resumed his throwing.
Skana was quiet then, just handing him the rocks and watching him toss them into the water, she asked him finally, “Have they at least ever worked? Have any of your prayers been answered?” She asked.
“I am still alone, so no.” He said with a shake of his head. “But still, it is worth asking.” He straightened up and Skana picked up the empty basket for him, she handed it over, and he gave a little half bow to her.
“Thank you for taking the time to help an old man. I offered one stone for you as well, it is not much, but it is all one old man can offer anymore. Goodnight, Skana.” He said, and began to walk away along the wall.
“Goodnight, old man.” She smiled at his retreating back, a twinge of regret came over her, ‘I’m glad I didn’t take his life, he seemed like such a sweet old fellow…’
She then turned and made her way toward the shop, looking back once to ensure that the old man in the shadows was not watching her any further, only to find he was completely gone.
‘Convenient.’ She told herself and broke into a dead run for the last hundred paces until the stench grew fairly overpowering. The shop in question was shockingly insecure to her eyes. No guards, no light. ‘Likely relying on the stench and the fear of getting caught to keep people at bay. But whatever, my lucky night!’ She reached the wooden door and jammed the tip of her knife in the very tiny sliver of space to lift the bar on the interior of the door.
An amateur would have lifted it the whole way, but she knew enough to open it only enough to raise it above the point where it was secured and then slip within.
‘A good apothecary always keeps his most expensive goods out of sight, and his best selling ones close to the counter.’ She recalled the old man of her village and stepped through the dark toward the faint outline of the counter. Another thing she had to thank her time with the brigands was that she learned to recognize certain valuable plunder and in the case of potions, what was what.
The trouble was seeing it, darkness wasn’t her worst obstacle, but being trapped working in the pitch dark room was as bad as being in the shadows with the old man.
Her hands reached for the potion bottles on the counter, ‘One of these has to be it.’ She told herself, they weren’t big bottles, just vials sealed with wax or cork. ‘And if it’s not? If I stay too long I’m going to vomit… how do they work in these conditions? And every second is a chance of disaster…’ She felt her heart racing beneath her breast, ‘It’s worse than a battle, at least there you know what’s happening!’ Stealing was a lot harder on the heart.
Her fingers closed around a pair of vials and she looked over her shoulder to ensure she wasn’t being watched, just in time to see the moonlight shining through the window of the shop. ‘A lucky break!’ She exclaimed to herself and raced over to the rays of white light bathing the lower floor and held the two potions out to see them clearer.
‘Red, perfect.’ She let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, put the green vial down on the window sill, then slipped back out the door with the healing potion in hand, running through the shadows and avoiding the common main road as much as she could to get back to where Speranzi lay waiting alone in the basement. ‘Just wait, I’ll take care of this! I promise!’ Skana wasn’t sure if she was privately urging Speranzi to be alright, or asking the gods for their favor in making it happen, but by that point?
Whichever worked, all that mattered to her was that it would be so.