Authors: Frankie Ash
Eramane (21 page)
My emotions overwhelm me as I reminisce, and tears begin to spill down my cheeks. I stop my steed, and amidst the pouring rain we sit. Numb and uncertain of anything, I let the salty tears stream down my face. Limearsy patiently waits for me to speak. Looking up at him with my blurred stare, I ask, “What am I?” He says nothing, a look of puzzlement on his face. “What am I?” I scream, as I sob in the pouring rain.
Limearsy needs to pull me from the abyss of madness that aims to swallow me. He walks his horse over to me, dismounts into the thick mud, and reaches up for me. I fall into his hands, and he helps me down from my stallion. There we stand, our feet sinking down in the wet earth. Limearsy stands me straight up and lifts my chin so that we are looking in each other’s eyes.
“The forest is taking you, Eramane,” he says, and a look of pity and concern lines his face. The rain rushes down his head, and he continues, “Your soul has been devastated.” His voice grows stronger and seems to intimidate even the rain. “You are a young girl who was taken from everything she was and made to be everything she is not! You are the prey of a powerful creature!” His words may be true, yet my dark abyss engulfs me still. Limearsy continues to speak. “Eramane, you did not do those terrible things. Adikiah’s creation did, not you!” It is comforting for me to know that I am not despised by everyone. Limearsy believes in me, and the words he speaks next tame my thoughts: “You did not ask for this, Eramane. He forced you to
become
. He could never have swayed you; your will is too strong, your soul too pure,” he says. How does Limearsy know of the becoming ritual? “He would have never been able to make you forget your true self, the real Eramane.” His words sweep away my pitiful feelings to a more comfortable distance. I turn from him without saying a word and mount my horse. I pause for a moment, then give my horse a nudge to get him walking. Limearsy is not far behind.
The rain diminishes from a downpour to a bothersome drizzle. We have been in the Dark Forest for much of the night. “The moon is directly above us. We have traveled through most of it,” Limearsy announces. It is the first either of us has spoken since the heavy rain. A thick fog has crept in, slowly surrounding us. It wraps around the trees like a snake on its prey. Webs of dead moss hang from the tree limbs, as if they are stretching down to reach for us. A low moan slithers throughout the forest. Limearsy does not seem to hear it. It could be that he does hear it but does not want to acknowledge it. Maybe he is not as unsoiled as I thought. Is it not possible that this ominous place is coming to have its way with Limearsy? Most likely this is just an entertaining thought for me—a distraction from what I feel approaching.
The groaning takes back my attention. I listen, looking around to locate the source of the unsettling groan. Limearsy looks at me for a moment and then searches our environment, returning his focus to me, a look of concern on his face
.
“What is it?” he asks. I do not answer immediately. Instead I continue to listen a moment longer, hearing nothing.
“Nothing,” I finally reply. Silence takes over, and the fog grows thicker. Moments pass and then the groan begins again. This time the noise sounds as though it, not Limearsy, were the one riding beside me. We can hardly see each other because of the dense fog.
“Eramane, bring your steed closer,” Limearsy requests.
“You hear it, then?” I ask for confirmation. The sound does not silence because of our exchange of words. Our horses become frightened and begin prancing around, disobeying our commands. Louder and louder the noise intrudes. At the moment that it seems as though the noise cannot get any louder, the ground begins to shake, and the winds blow fiercely.
We give our horses a more forceful command, to run as fast as they can, but the forest is too dense for a full-out gallop. I cannot see Limearsy’s face, but I know what he is thinking, the same thing I am thinking, that something terrible is here, and it has come here for me.
Our horses slow in pace, then stop altogether. The stallions rear up, trying to dump us. The noise is so loud that it is not a groan anymore but a loud humming vibration that I can feel in my bones. It is as if the forest is screaming at us—all the trees, all the plants, every living thing, orchestrating this unbearable noise.
I feel something strike at me on my right side. It is the wind, trying to throw me from my steed. It must be the wind; nothing else is here. Just then, another strike; this time it has a face. I do not see it well, because it moves too swiftly. Then again it comes; this time I see it clearly. It is the distorted face of a boy. He strikes me so hard that I fall from my horse onto the ground with a shocking thud. The boy lunges on top of me, perching on my chest. His knees stretch up past his head.
What a wicked face,
I think, trying to figure out what this
thing
is. The evil monstrosity grabs my throat. His face is a pale blue color, and his eyes are blood red. He begins chanting words—words I do not understand.
A demonic voice blasts from the being, like the screeching of a colossal owl. His face begins to melt as he shrieks, as if it were on fire. His words jumble together, no breath taken between any of them, and he begins gashing my face and neck with his talonlike claws. It is all happening so quickly. Limearsy jumps off his horse and darts for me, but the forest has a different plan for him. Branches from nearby trees bend and stretch their way to Limearsy, grabbing him and wrapping him up in their wooden arms.
I throw the being from atop me and roll over to catch my breath. A breath is not what I get. Instead, the boy forcefully rolls me over. I look up at the foul being and watch as he drives Limearsy’s sword through my abdomen and into the ground. I scream louder than all the mayhem that the devil child brought with him. Then it grows quiet.
I lie on the ground gasping and spitting blood. It gurgles in the back of my throat. I turn my head to Limearsy, my vision blurred by the blood from the gashes on my head; it makes it difficult to see him. “Eramane,” he calls. “Eramane, I’m coming, hold on.” He cuts away at parts of the tree that still constrict him. “Hold on,” his words fade off, carried by the breeze. Then there is darkness.
The Dark Forest: Part Two
“
E
RAMANE,” A VOICE CALLS TO
me. I open my eyes to see Limearsy. Raising my head, I see the sword that pins me to the ground. My head drops back to the ground, and I sigh in annoyance. “Why did you not pull this from me while I was unconscious?” I ask, irritated.
“You woke before I reached you,” Limearsy says.
“Well,” I exhale laboredly, “get a firm stance and grab the handle .On three we pull.” Limearsy does as I ask with little hesitation. “Ready? One, two, three!” He pulls and I scream in agony as the sword releases me. I roll on my stomach and scream into the dirt. I smash the ground with my fist, as if punishing the earth for my pain. Limearsy watches, unable to help, until I no longer writhe about. After a few moments, he helps me sit up.
“I know your wounds heal quickly, but not quickly enough, considering where we are,” he says. “Ride with me; we can hitch your horse to mine.” I do not argue, as Limearsy is already preparing me to climb up on his stallion. “Sit tight, I am going to fetch your horse,” he says, walking to my steed. Limearsy is swift and with no time wasted he is situating himself behind me. I hold onto his shoulders as we make our way through the Dark Forest.
We have been riding only a short time since my attack. I keep thinking about my family, holding onto to hope that they are still alive. I want badly to see them, to tell them how sorry I am. When I saw my father in the Gate, he said that Samiah and my mother need me. But I do not know what that means or even if I really spoke with my father at all. The look in Samiah’s eyes when he fathomed my new existence tears away at me. I know that he cannot believe what I have become, and I cannot be convinced that the look on his face would have been any different had I pulled his heart from his chest. For the first time in my life, I saw tears in his eyes. Underneath the overwhelming emotion, though, I knew that he was not angry with me. Instead, he was devastated; as if he believed it was his fault. I think about Limearsy’s words, of me being forced into this life, but I can never be the Eramane I was before the meadow, before Adikiah. Although I have a newfound hope, I know that no kind of redemption will make me the person I used to be. I am broken now, damaged. But I want to be reunited with my family, and that is enough to keep me strong.
Once we make our way out of the Dark Forest, we stop for a short time to feed and water the horses. With the Dark Forest behind us now, I would like to imagine never having to pass through it again.
Adikiah told me that I will never again be human, my soul is tarnished. My sins cannot be forgiven by my gods, and I can never again be at peace with the humans; they will hunt me until the end of time and never cease in their vengeance. These are the terrible misfortunes I have to shoulder. I am not living yet not dead, and although I made it through the Gate, my existence is uncertain. I do suppose that Adikiah is likely to end me, but this is not enough for me to back down. I am told that I possess a gift, and I plan on uncovering its mystery—somehow. Although I cannot move mountains, I can make them quake. Yet none of this will matter if I do not harvest again. Eventually my energy will diminish, and I will be no more of a threat than a bothersome gnat. I had taken an immense amount of damage by Adikiah, the souls in the Gate, and the soul in the Dark Forest. If I am going to take on all that lies ahead, I should need to harvest. But I have made it this far, and, oddly enough, I feel strong. It does not make sense that I am not feeble, but here I am, healing from the demonic child in the Dark Forest. Now that I think on it, it is very odd. I should have been dead several times over. Something has given me strength to heal, to fight, and to live—but what? My focus turns to Limearsy, still scanning our path ahead; like a stone guardian, he rides in silence. He rides without even a scratch. I watched those branches violently scratch at him, and he is not even bleeding. What is going on?
As I ponder Limearsy’s unscathed body, I cannot help wondering where Adikiah is. Certainly he knows by now I am alive. I feel him; can he still not feel me? Why is he not hunting me? I hear his screams of remorse; I know he mourns me still, an obsession he cannot let go of so easily. Where are you, Adikiah?
Why have you not tried to reach me? What are you up to? If he is not seeking me, then he already knows where I am. I do not know if I should talk to Limearsy about this. I still do not understand his motives for keeping me alive if we succeed in destroying Adikiah. Will he not want me dead as well? I am a threat also; I still need to “take from them,” do I not?
A short time ago, I decided I was able to ride my horse. Since then, we have been riding hard through the night, but suddenly I am bombarded by Adikiah’s voice. It hits quickly and is so profound that I cannot function. I have to slow my steed because I know that I am about to fall from it, and I do. Limearsy is in front of me and does not notice that I am grounded until he hears me screaming. Adikiah’s voice is so loud that blood trickles from my ears. I squirm on the ground like a worm bitten in half by a bird’s sharp beak. I cry out in agony, and as suddenly as it started, it ceases. Why does his voice hurt me so badly? I try to calm myself so I can decipher what I heard from him. I stand and regain my balance. The world has stopped spinning, and I am able to replay the sounds in my head. I listen to them carefully, trying to correctly recollect them. As I slow it down, I realize that Adikiah was not saying anything at all. Instead, it was the sound of his emotional outburst, an ecstasy he experienced as he just learned that I am alive. He has found me.
Limearsy helps me to my horse. “You sure do have a difficult time staying in your saddle,” he says, forcing a half-hearted smile from me. He knows my internal struggle is great, and he feels no need to inquire about it. His only inquiry is whether I am all right. Once I acknowledge that I can ride, we proceed. What Limearsy does not know is that Adikiah has just discovered that I am alive.
Adikiah Sends the Servants
A SOMBER PRESENCE PERVADES THE
palace. Adikiah mourns his mistake. He longs to have Eramane back, to be together as they once were; even if it means an eternity of pleading with her to come down from the landing. Much of his time is spent in his nest atop the palace. He is there now, searching for her, traveling the world with his mind. His attempts have not been futile, for he did reach her, discovering that she rides toward the town of Lunlitch.
“It is time to show my love that she belongs to me,” Adikiah says as he summons his willing servants. One by one, they appear at Adikiah’s will. Forming a circle parallel with the stone columns that encase the terrace, the servants stand quiet and attentive. The ocean breeze whisks the cloaks of the creatures, exposing their scrawny figures, a deceptive feature of these powerful creatures. They lack a muscular physique, but their stature has no relevance to the strength of these beings. Adikiah created them to serve him not only in his palace but also in his crusades, whatever they may be. This time, Adikiah will send them on a mission to destroy the peaceful town of Lunlitch.
“Eramane is nearing Lunlitch. She travels with a companion whom I do not wish to breathe the air of tomorrow. Kill everyone in the town, including her companion, and leave her there to relish the death of the innocents. Let me make it clear that if she is harmed, all of you will pay! Go! Now!” he orders, and the servants quickly leave the terrace. Adikiah lies down and awaits the news of his slaves. “If she will not come back on her own will, I will force her,” Adikiah rants, having sensed my intentions of making our separation permanent.