I was on route to Simon’s house prior to the noon meal. I wanted to be with him and maybe take the chance to apologize for being an oaf recently in my self-absorbed melancholy. Disaster, however, rarely waits for a convenient time to strike. I was within view of his door when it hit; an earthquake so great and terrible that it sent me off my feet, and destroyed nearly all the dwellings in Drentwych. Gaps opened in the ground, swallowing trees, rubble, and sometimes people. Not even the town walls were spared the destruction; I saw them crumble to dust as I lay on the ground with my hands folded above my head to protect it from harm. The quakes seemed to last an eternity. My mind was roiling with the possibilities of what was to come. Just as suddenly as they started, the quakes ceased, and I gazed around at the destruction ― only the church remained standing. Amidst the screams of the townsfolk I heard a god-awful sound, and then saw in the distance the Fortress of Wist Hill crumbling down. The cloud of dust almost reached Drentwych, and it would have, had it not been for the tidal wave. The water washed away what remained of the town, taking many people with it. It receded many moments later, as abruptly as it came. I held on to a piece of log, to keep myself in place. As soon as it was gone however, I moved into action.
Without thinking twice, I got up, balanced myself on the shaking ground of the aftershock, and ran to aid the first voice I heard. I was surprised and somewhat relieved to discover that the supernatural strength I had acquired during that terrible fight with the Demon lingered still. It proved mighty useful here, as I tossed timber and stones about to free trapped townspeople. The rest of the soldiers joined the rescue operation as soon as they’d come to their senses, and many of the townspeople also participated. Some sat stunned, however, and did nothing, even though they were themselves not seriously injured.
Many of the soldiers and townspeople came to me for guidance and I sent them here and there to clear debris, carry the injured to the church, and help each other as I saw fit. Together we rescued the injured and turned the church into a makeshift hospital.
I worked tirelessly, for whenever I thought of resting a moment a sound caught my attention or someone needed my assistance, so I just worked on and on, forgetting my own fatigue. In clearing a collapsed hovel of debris, I located an underground passage of some sort. I strained to see inside, but all I saw was pitch black darkness. I tried to listen, but I heard nothing but dripping water. Then suddenly as I was about to get up I heard the faint sound of knocking. I called out to whoever was inside.
“I hear you! I hear you!” I called. “I’m coming! Don’t move!” I added.
“I’ve found someone trapped under the ground!” I called to the townsfolk outside. Barny and my Commander came and lent me a rope so I could climb down.
As I went down the hatch, I saw a corridor built with Roman arches for support. ‘This must have been the old Roman outpost’, I thought to myself. I called for a torch and was tossed one before I made my way on the trail. Sometimes the ceiling cracked and a bit of sunlight penetrated the dark passage. Whoever was trapped knocked harder and I hastened my steps, trying to follow in the right direction. Finally, I found the exact point, I believed.
“Everything is going to be all right; stay down and back away from the wall. I’m coming for you, don’t worry!” I said and began clearing debris. Then I saw it, a small figure trapped among the rubble. It did not seem injured at first glance, though I could not be sure. Its eyes shone blue, so I wasn’t sure if it was a cat or other animal, but then it made the most pitiful sound and I knew it was a human child ― I saw the tips of its fingers.
I entered the small passage, leaning my back against the ceiling to postpone its collapse. I hugged the small child to me like a baby and carried it outside, shielding it from harm as the room collapsed behind us.
“You’re safe now, don’t worry, I’ve got you and I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” I told it. It clung to me in a firm grip and held tight. I gave the child to my Commander to hold as I climbed up the rope. Simon stood behind him and Barny as well, his jaw clenched and his face flashing red. I took the child again and examined it. My mother had been a nurse, and I was familiar with the basic teachings of medicine, at least enough to recognize injuries, clean wounds, and apply bandages. Apparently, being often bruised as a child had its merits now.
It was a little girl, I discovered; perhaps five to seven years of age. She did not appear injured, though she strained to breathe. Her skin was a ghostly shade of white underneath the layers of muck, and her eyes were an icy shade of blue which seemed to glow a bit like cats’ eyes. At first I thought she had suffered a head injury and that her hair was smeared in blood, but no, her hair was apparently naturally the shade of blood.
“I saw you outside the window ― when the ground shook you left me in a house that was collapsing, knowing that I am crippled!” Simon said angrily.
“It wasn’t my intention to abandon you, friend. I did not think, but rushed to the first call for help I heard,” I replied honestly.
“What do you mean, rushed to them first ― you rushed only to them, I never saw you turn my way,” he said.
“Simon, I—” I began.
“Yet despite your will to be rid of me, I managed to survive without your aid,” he said, venomously.
“To be rid of you? What the bloody hell are you saying? Why should I plot to be rid of you, you’re my friend, are you not?” I asked, stunned by all this anger.
“I don’t know, Raymond, am I?” He asked.
“Well, of course you are, have you gone all crazy? What madness is this?” I said, raising my voice in astonishment at his wild accusations.
“Stop playing the innocent, Raymond, you hardly fit the part,” Simon said.
“I do not—” I began.
“I was there for you, whenever you needed me, and you, you left me for dead when the opportunity presented itself,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I tried.
“And it didn’t start here, no. This began a long time ago. You just don’t like to share the glory, do you?” He asked sarcastically.
“I never plotted to be rid of you,” I replied sternly.
“Never plotted, perhaps, but you’d find it mighty convenient if I just happen to drop dead. You could then maybe give a pretty speech to the townsfolk and play the hero, pissing on my grave when nobody’s looking,” he said.
“That’s not true" I protested.
“Of course not, you’re a regular saint, hero of the people and all that rubbish!” He said.
“Simon, I’m – “I tried saying.
“Shut your mouth and let me finish. You won’t even let me finish a couple of sentences without barging in, taking over the conversation,” he said. I shut my mouth and let him rant on, for the last thing I wanted was to prove him right; though he was right.
“You know something, Raymond, you’re so self-absorbed. You only see yourself in everything that you do. If only I should be so lucky as to be rewarded by receiving some of your attention,” he said. I waited a few moments to make sure he was done and only then spoke.
“What can I say Simon? I’m not perfect and I never was. I make mistakes, true, but this is hardly the time or the place for this argument. Surely when Drentwych is crumbling all around us we have better things to worry about than our silly disagreements,” I said, hoping to put the matter to rest for now.
“Is that what you think this is ― a silly argument? All right, Ray, don’t take me seriously, but don’t expect me take you seriously either,” he said. I was amazed by how easily he twisted the intent my words.
“Simon, I’m not taking you lightly, but like I said, this is neither the time nor the place,” I repeated as the child stirred.
“Very well, Raymond, we’ll settle this later, but don’t think I’ll stick around forever,” he said. I nodded and I turned to the child. I had to sort out my business with her, and then move on to other people in need of assistance.
“What’s your name, little girl?” I asked the child, ignoring Simon now. “Are you injured? Can you stand?” I tried when there was no reply to my previous question. She nodded no, then yes. Slowly I put her down, making sure that she indeed could stand on her own. I gave her a water-skin to drink from and we proceeded to the church. It was my intention to deliver her to the church and resume my business.
“What’s your name?” Simon asked her. She just smiled a sad smile at him, offering no reply.
“Can you talk at all?” I asked her gently; still I received no vocal reply. Then suddenly she hugged my leg as if I was her father. I was a bit uncomfortable with being touched, especially after the fight with the demon. I tried to gently detach her from my leg, but seeing that she hugged me only harder, I ceased my attempts. I really hoped she had a mother somewhere at that moment.
“Just leave her be. She’s obviously not wounded save perhaps being mute. She’ll find her mother in no time,” Simon said.
“No, I’m taking her to the church, she may have internal injuries,” I said. She seemed preoccupied with watching the air as I tried telling her my name. I patted her hair gently to attract her attention. Inside I was starting to lose patience, but this task demanded gentleness, and I intended to have children of my own in the future, so this seemed like a good exercise.
“I am Raymond and this is Simon,” I said as she finally looked at me. She seemed to try and speak then and we all paused, waiting excitedly to hear what she had to say.
“Je t’aime Ray-mend,” she said, finally. Simon visibly frowned, but I smiled at the compliment. Then she kissed my hand.
“Didn’t you say we have more pressing business? We’ve wasted enough time on this child, have we not?” He said. I ignored him, picked her up in my arms, and took her to the church. Upon approaching the church, she started shaking visibly. I halted my steps and spoke to her.
“What’s wrong, little one?” I asked. She just made strange, fearful sounds, like a baby who’s frightened. Not understanding what the matter was, I approached the nearest priest and asked him kindly to check the child for injuries.
“Of course, of course, Master Raymond,” he said and quickly moved to comply with my request. Moving the blanket that kept her warm, he took one look at her, and then bounced a few steps back in fear. He crossed himself, as if I was holding a contagious disease in my hands.
“I’m sorry, Master Raymond, but I’ll not treat this thing,” he said in disdainful tones. I was stunned, to say the least.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“That’s a fiend whom you now hold in your hands,” he replied professionally. Now I was furious — earthquake, flood, a fight with Simon and now condescending shit from a buffoon.
“What the bloody-hell is the matter with ye? Can’t ye see that this is a small wounded child and no fiend?” I asked him. I could not tolerate his indifferent treatment of a child. He replied in patronizing tones, as if I was some barbarian in need of slow speech.
“Master Raymond …” he began, “… this is no child but a spawn of the Devil! Can you not see its deathly pale skin? Its red hair, the color of blood? Surely you can see that these are the marks of the Devil!” He proclaimed.
“Good priest, she’s a She not an It, and she’s not a monster but a little girl who’s wounded. I don’t care what she looks like; she’s no fiend,” I said, trying to be diplomatic but firm.
“I’ll not accept a demon into the house of God, take her elsewhere,” he said impatiently. I took a threatening step forward, and he took three backwards; Simon grabbed me, trying to stop me from doing something rash.
“Calm down Ray, it’s only an old priest. Hurting him won’t do anyone any good,” Simon pleaded. I eyed the priest dangerously, but left him otherwise unharmed. I was really fuming seeing those who should care proving indifferent to the suffering of children. The more the world rejected her, the more I felt a growing kinship with her.
We went to where the old orphanage had once stood. I was so caught up with trying to help the little girl, and being angry at Simon, that I overlooked the obvious reaction the children would have to the ghostly visage of the pale little girl. They screamed in terror and cried, “Banshee!” Pointing at her and hiding behind a very worried old man who was their keeper. I hastened to take her away from the other children. Surprisingly, she seemed saddened, but did not weep or cry out. I feared she may be dull in the head, for her reactions were strange, to say the least.
It was obvious to me that the little girl would not fit anywhere. She was deemed a demon by the priests and a ghost by the orphans. She didn’t speak for the most part, appeared too frail to work, and she wasn’t even pretty enough so that any adult would take pity and adopt her ― anyone but me, that is. In a way, she was as messed up as I was, with bad things hailing down like the flood. When I gazed into her amazing blue eyes, all I saw was innocence there; innocence and an internal spark I envied. Like me, she was an orphan, lost in an alien land. I could tell as much from her looks. Did not Ivar take pity on me? Raymond the Forester as well? Neither of them thought twice before offering me shelter and acceptance. I wasn’t much to look at either, an orphan from a faraway land. I should be so lucky, I thought, if ever I could match their honor. As I thought things over, she smiled at me and Simon complained.
“It seems the orphanage doesn’t want you,” I began. She nodded her agreement, and I could see worry, like a dark shadow, emanate from her eyes. She clung to me a tad more forcefully, and then eased her grip when she realized her grip had tightened.
“If you’re willing, little ma’am …” I said and waited to make sure I got her complete attention. “… I’m willing to adopt you as my own flesh and blood and call you my daughter,” I said. Before she had a chance to reply Simon spoke.
“What? Shit on this!” Simon protested, “You’re a swine to your friends and now you’re all daddy love to a stranger.” Simon added.
“Shut yer mouth, what business is it of yours?” I shot back; he was really getting on my nerves —dangerously.
“Let’s see now …” Simon began “… we live dangerous lives,” Simon said. “You’re going to get her killed but you don’t care.” He added.
“Again, what business is it of yours?” I asked, glaring.
“Alright, I find it despicable that you don’t give a rat’s tail about your friends, and you treat her with kindness. The way I see it, it’s yet another slap in my face.”
“We’ll continue this another time, Simon,” I said through clenched teeth.
“No, let’s settle this once and for all now. Why is it all right for you to postpone arguments when it suits your schedule and wrong for others to settle arguments in their own time?” He asked.
“Look, Simon, I know that I’m not always a nice person, but please … if not for my sake then for the sake of the child. She shouldn’t hear adults argue like this,” I pleaded.
“Oh no, it’s not about the child, I don’t give a crap about her, so don’t use her as a shield for your faults. You’re being selfish and you’re expecting me to be considerate,” he said.
“What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say? You twist every word of mine and use it to lash out at me. How can I make peace with you when you won’t let me?” I pleaded.
“Lash at you; learned a new word, eh? You’re not trying to make peace; you’re trying to prove that you’re right again, and peace has nothing to do with it. You want me to see your superiority — you want me to see just how kind and understanding you are, but it is all hypocrisy with you. I see through you and I can see through this too,” he said.
“Are you my wife or something? What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked.
“What?” He replied, stunned.
“All right, Simon, you know what? You do what you want and leave me to do what I want. I’ll stay out of your business and you’ll stay out of mine,” I shot back angrily.
“Thank you for permission to go about my business, Great Hero of Drentwych! Now I can limp about in peace, knowing that mighty Raymond permits me to do so,” he said.
“Bugger off,” I replied and so the argument was done. We broke off in different directions.
There wasn’t much to do around town at this point; everybody who survived was already out of the wreckage. This reminded me that there was one person I had failed to see during the rescue operation.
I hurried to the smithy with the little girl at my side. At first glance most of the house seemed intact. Smithies — like churches, are built out of stone, and I hoped this meant survival for my loved ones.
“Ivar! Ingrid!” I called as banged on the door. I was answered almost immediately by Ingrid who opened the door. Her eyes were red and her face wet from fits of weeping. Seeing my face, she wept again and hugged me close.
“Ivar?” I dared ask, as I feared her reply. She released the tight embrace for only a moment, holding me still. She looked into my eyes.
“He’s dead,” she said, and burst out crying again, holding me close once more.
“Show me,” I commanded her, I should have been more empathic, I wanted to be but I had other things on my mind. I pushed her to lean on me, as her trembling feet could not carry her. Placing my hand upon her shoulder for support, my thoughts turned to vile and morbid thoughts. My parents dead for they had to flee, because of me. My brother, his blood also upon my hands. I had murdered, more than once. Now Ivar is dead and I failed to save him. I am wretched, and cursed. All that I touch dies…the revenant! When I touched him, he was injured by my hands, as a child.
I inspected the body emotionless, I had to know!
I was right…the subtle markings of hands upon his throat…he was strangled by armored hands.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” I said, and fought back tears myself. We stayed like this for many minutes until she gathered enough strength to let go.
“What will I do?” She asked me, her face ghostly.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I replied. “I will provide for you. You’ll have no worries for as long as you shall live,” I said.
“But you will not marry me?” She asked pitifully. Her words broke my heart. I wanted to marry her then and there, damning us both should the Demon prevail over me.
“I cannot yet,” I replied. ‘First, I intend to avenge Ivar, then slay the demon in my soul.’ I thought to myself.
“Why, Raymond? Don’t you love me?” She asked.
“I do, I do, but the Demon—” I began.
“I don’t care,” she replied.
“– Is still alive,” I completed my sentence.
“I don’t care,” she repeated sternly.
“I have to fight him, and I cannot marry you till I win,” I explained.
“Let me battle at your side then — the lineage of Warriors runs in my blood!” She demanded.
“No Ingrid, this is not a battle of the flesh, and I must do this on my own. Upon my return I shall marry you,” I said. “This I vow!” Ingrid’s smile was like the sun, once hidden by the clouds now fully revealed in its glory, warming my sad bones.
“I have found this orphan child in ruins. She has none but me to care for her. Will you Ingrid, daughter of Ivar share this blessed burden with me?” I asked and kissed her hand.
“I will, of course,” she replied, taking her by the hand. “I will share all blessed burdens with you, in sickness, and health, till …” She said and burst weeping again. I comforted her hand and kissed her forehead. My dear Ingrid, how the fates wronged you.
“Stay with Ingrid, child.” I instructed the little one. “I go on a quest but when I return, we will be a family.” I said. The child remained mute, observing us like an elf.
“Gods be with you!” She said and kissed my lips. Her lips were soft and inviting, yet bitter from her tears. I wanted to wipe her tears away and stay with her forever, abandoning all quests.
The Demon laughed then at my pitiful fantasy, reminding me that the battle was not over yet; it wanted its revenge and it is going to take it, piece by piece, making me miserable. I gave Ingrid all the coin in my purse. With my reward for saving the town it was enough gold to maintain her for years in dignity. I then turned around and left without another word. My Commander found me as I strolled around town, aimlessly, thinking things over.
“Master Raymond,” he began.
“Yes, Commander,” I replied.
“The Mayor seeks hero volunteers for a dire task to save Drentwych,” he said.
“I know. Master Simon already mentioned it, I volunteered.” I replied without thinking twice.
“Good, good, Raymond,” he said and patted my back.
“All the volunteers are to collect coins, jewels, and other things of value. Then you are to take this currency and purchase provisions and hire mercenaries so that the town may rebuild,” he explained.
“I understand,” I replied and went about the task. I passed by every house, taking whatever they could spare. We were set to depart come morning, so I spent the night in Ivar’s smithy — my last night there.
I got a bucket of water, soaked a cloth in it, and used it to wash the child’s face while Ingrid cooked us dinner. I repeated the motion several times until I got all the dirt and grime out of her face. I then gave her the cloth, and motioned her to clean herself with it. She responded with a smile, and then undressed herself before my eyes. I turned around, blushing. It may have been the custom wherever she came from to undress before strangers, but here in England — or Jerusalem for that matter, it was highly unacceptable. I so wished Ingrid would take care of her, but she was cooking, and in mourning having lost her father recently, and her mother a few years ago. I would not place an even greater burden upon her shoulders — even the most minor of tasks, unless she volunteered. As for my own grief, I was sorry for so damn many things. For years of taking Ivar for granted, for not showing him the respect I should have. For so many things I cannot take back now, because death is final, the end of all things. I couldn’t handle the guilt and the sorrow. My mind recoiled from simple fact that Ivar was gone and I would never be able to make amends. So instead of breaking into pieces, I acted as if nothing had happened; as if he was just gone on one of his journeys out of the realm. I forced myself to focus on the many tasks at hand, and those who were living and depending on me to be strong. I couldn’t falter now — like I always do when the pressure rises.
‘This time, it will be different, I will be different,’ I told myself.
I occupied myself rearranging the house from all the mess while she showered. A giddy sound and a word in French signaled me that she was done. I turned and realized to my dismay, that she was clean, but still nude. I quickly turned from her.
“Dress!” I said in embarrassment. I had never had a sister or a daughter, so I was highly unaccustomed to taking care of one. I heard her footsteps back away and then she returned a minute after making the same sound she had before. I hesitated to turn around, but then was happy to discover she had dressed herself. Only her hair remained dirty, and this we could not wash in the evening, for it was too cold, and boiling water was out of the question considering the circumstances.
Ingrid placed a bowl of meat soup on the board which we were using as a table. Before the child sat down I took her hands to the water and showed her how to wash them. She nodded, said something in French, and then ate hungrily. Ingrid was mute all the while, watching me handle a child, smiling slightly. I guess she thought I’d make a good father.
I noticed then that her eyes which shone in the dark were not the only thing feline about her. She seemed to lean forward over her bowl and guard her food like a cat does. Prisoners display the same behavior as well. I could not imagine what kind of horrible life she may have had, to have taught the child to guard her food.
As I ate I noticed the strangest thing about her:
Sometimes when she thought I wasn’t looking, she’d stare into the wall, mesmerized by the darkness. Other times she seemed to move her head about, as if she was engaged in some sort of mute conversation with the air. Whenever she noticed my stare, she turned to me and smiled.
Finally, fatigue aided by food conquered me and I longed for sleep. Ingrid silently, with her finger, invited me to her bed. I had wanted to share a lover’s bed with her for a very long time now so my heart pulsed and I began to perspire. In my mind I imagined lovers entwined the softness of her bosom, and the gentle touch of her caress. Then I imagined her pregnant, and I failing to return from my quest — misery… such terrible misery.
‘I can’t do this!’ I thought.
“When I return, and we are properly wed,” I told Ingrid, I lowered my eyes and smiled in apology. She seemed glad, and not angry for some reason. I lay down to sleep in the smithy, as I had done many times before, when everything made sense. For some reason the girl stared at me as I lay down to sleep, instead of finding a place to rest. The last thing I noticed before I slept was her eyes, watching me. That child really unnerved me.
Then the nightmare came, as it always does when sleep befalls me, and has ever since that fateful day I fought with the Demon. This time I was trapped in a maze of burning houses. Everywhere I turned burning beams fell my way, and I had to dodge constantly or else be trapped and burned by them. As if the fire was not bad enough, little imps the size of children, with over-sized mouths, sharp teeth, and no face chased after me, trying to impale me on wicked spears. Even cutting them with my sword proved of little use, for their wounds closed and they regenerated in a moment or two.
The nightmare grew more horrid the more I ran, dodged, and fought. I could suddenly hear moaning sounds, like dead souls or people in terrible agony. The moans were like a dreadful music, causing me to shudder in dread.
As the world behind me turned into a blazing inferno, the Demon, now in the form of a wolf, burst out from the flames and chased me. Its eyes were glowing red orbs of infernal fire. Its black coat looked like coal and its mouth was full of shark teeth, with bile spilling out as it hungered for my flesh. I ran with all my might until I reached a place of utter darkness for only a moment. I thought I had lost it. Then it appeared, standing before me in its demon-form, holding a wicked blade in one hand and a whip made of fire in the other.
I held my sword in both hands, ready to fight for my life once more. Then suddenly a third figure emerged in the dream.
It was the pale, red-haired girl. She wore a dress of bright blue, and at her back there was a golden hue, like sunlight. My first instinct was to place myself between it and her, to guard her with my life against this terrible demon. Then the most dreadful thought entered my mind. The Demon knows of her; it may come after her in the waking world as well, just to torture me. Perhaps in my desire to save her, I’ve actually damned her. I held my sword tightly in both hands then advanced on him.
It was then that I saw something I’d never seen before in the Demon’s eyes. It was terrified, and not of me. Its look of fright quickly turned into that of grim determination, and it advanced towards the little girl.
“No!” I screamed as I stormed it. She held her hand towards it, closed her eyes and seemed to strain. Before I got to it time seemed to freeze. I could not move, and neither could it. There was some sort of golden light emanating from her, slowly growing stronger. The light hurt my eyes.
My tortured eyes watched the little girl grow great colorful wings. Wind blew from her direction towards the Demon and then blew it away as if it were an ant in a storm. The wind then blew the fire out, and everything went dark.
As light slowly returned, emanating from her, I saw her raising her hand upward as if to touch the sky. Her form was like a shadow surrounded by the darkness; only her blue eyes glowed and her colorful wings reflected the light. Then as if the darkness was only a black cloud hiding the sky, the darkness parted, allowing the golden light of the sun to come through.
In the cold and dark I felt the light with every cell of my body and my eyes watered upon seeing this majestic radiance coming to me, here, in the deepest reaches of my abyss.
She just stood there smiling at me, a little pale girl once more. As my tear fell to the desolate black ground, a thousand drops of rain fell all around me. Something touched my leg and I moved it quickly away, seeing to my surprise that an olive branch, small and green, grew out of the black ground before my stunned eyes, taking the shape of a young sapling.
All around me black turned to green, and to my amazement I saw myself standing in a green garden basking in sunlight where only moments before there had been only desolation and darkness.
The little pale girl was smiling. Then she pointed forward and I quickly turned my head in the direction she indicated. I saw a little fairy, like a woman with dragonfly wings, glowing slightly as she flew towards me. She flew twice around me and then settled on my shoulder. I put my hand there slowly and she climbed on my hand. As I was looking at her, clearly losing any sense of reality, the little fairy said