Aeternitas by M Mixson (free ereaders txt) 📖

in amusement as he continued to walk backwards.

Ohiel walked more quickly to catch up with Eian. Eian turned on his heel and continued to walk forwards.

“Well then,” he said, “Tell me something interesting. It’s boring just walking.”

Ohiel’s eyebrow twitched. “I suppose I can tell you a bit about the shipwreck…if you really want to know.”

Eian shook his head and said, “I’m sorry. I never should have pried I know that certain things are too tender to touch.”

Ohiel felt relief in his heart. He really hadn’t wanted to tell the story but Eian had asked and he in the end had felt slightly obligated to tell the story to Eian.”

“But…can you tell me about my grandmother? What you knew of her in that time? If you can without revealing anything that you don’t want to of course.”

Ohiel thought for a moment as they walked kicking up the loose dirt on the road.

“Yes. I suppose I can tell you a bit about your grandmother…”

It was dark and the water was cold, very cold. His fingers and toes were nearly frozen and his whole torso trembled with cold. He sneezed into the water and beneath his numb fingers he could feel the slight texture of the earth, rather the sand, beneath his fingers. He tried to push up on his hands but found that they were too weak to support his weight. He collapsed back onto the sand with his face in the water. He couldn’t lift his head and he knew if he didn’t move soon he could easily drown where he lay. He could feel the tide coming in. Where it had been to his lower legs before it was now all the way up to his waist now. He gasped for breath as the water submerged his torso again. He grappled for anything, anything to pull himself from the water. He was freezing, so cold, so cold. Am I going to die? He wondered to himself. I still have so much to do in my life, he wanted to cry out. I can’t die yet! His clothes were torn to shreds and the rock and sand and debris from the ship was scraping his body as it was pulled in and out with the current. He was so cold his tears began to freeze on his face as he cried. Cold, cold, cold. The word repeated over and over and over inside of his mind. There was very little else for him to think about. Anytime he tried to think of doing something else he began to think of the fact that he couldn’t move in the least.

He caught his breath as the water rose over his face and settled there for a few seconds before retreating. He sucked in a breath desperately and wiggled in the same spot as he strived to crawl up the beach. As he wriggled a cold wind began to blow and whipped up the ocean and the waves, pulling them over him like a blanket, a very cold and wet blanket.

He spluttered as he accidentally inhaled some of the salty water. Now his face was freezing too. It felt as if he was becoming a block of ice. He decided to resign himself to his fate, there wasn’t any point in struggling anymore. He only hated the fact that he heard drowning was painful, that even as you struggled to hold your breath your head felt like it was going to explode and your body wanted to open your mouth and when you did you inhaled water and choked and breathed the water in and then soon, darkness. He finally closed his eyes. As he lay there on the beach praying he swore he could hear footsteps. Light footsteps, but footsteps nonetheless. He couldn’t find the energy to lift his head, much less open his eyes. So he lay there hoping that just maybe he’d be saved.

He felt a hand stroke through his damp hair and lift his head as another rush of ocean water filled the space where his head had lain. He heard a soothing voice talking as he was pulled to his feet. But he couldn’t stand on his own so he sank back to his knees in the sand. He now heard a mutter and the voice came again. A male voice this time, talking, talking, more talking. Then on his other side there was somebody. Somebody was helping him stand on both sides. His feet dragged in the sand as they pulled him along. Finally he was set on the ground on his back. He swore he heard a hiss and, “What -?”

“Debris. He was scratched by debris.”

“Debris – how the ship was…”

“It floated in with the current. He couldn’t move and so he had no choice but to lay still as it scratched him.”

Then the voices disappeared and all was quiet. A little while later he was able to open his eyes. He was staring at a strange structure. It looked like a house but it couldn’t be. He had been stranded on a beach after a shipwreck. He slowly blinked his eyes and went to raise his hand but ended up clonking himself on the head with his arm.

“Be careful,” the male voice said to him and he turned to face him.

“What,” he tried to speak, “What happened?”

The man who leaned over him was obviously one of the crewmen from the ship and he looked concerned as he leaned over. “Somehow the ship sank. I don’t really remember much about it. I woke on the beach and staggered over down the beach. I ran into a woman who was doing her best to help you. You are severely injured. You will not have much use of your limbs for a bit because you and they are weak. You nearly drowned by the way.”

“I remember…” he murmured. “Thank you.” He said turning his head towards the sailor who had moved out of his line of sight. He cringed as his neck twanged in pain. He licked his lips. “Do we have water?”

“Only a little,” the voice that spoke from the doorway was warm.

“Blose…” he murmured.

“Hello Ohiel.”

“You’re alive, I’m glad.”

She laughed, her voice soft. “I’m glad I’m alive too. I was able to save you because of that.”

The young sailor cleared his throat and said, “I’ll go see if I can’t find some more firewood. Maybe that way we’ll be able to survive a while longer.”

Before he left Blose told him, “See if you can’t find something to build a more permanent structure, heavy wood or some such. Like you said we won’t know how much longer we’ll be stranded out here.”

The sailor nodded and disappeared through the door.

He took a breath as Blose hovered over him. “Drink very slowly. If you drink too quickly you’ll make yourself sick.”

He agreed and let Blose help him sit up straight. He gulped some water before Blose took the water away.

“More.”

“No,” Blose told him gently. “We need to settle your stomach first. That means you need to eat something – we have a bit of meal from a bag that washed up on shore. I can cook that.”

And indeed she did. By the time the sailor came back it was ready. The three of them sat down to eat and afterwards Blose taught them how to bathe with just soap and a bit of water.

The beginning of their time on the island had just begun.

“And so,” Ohiel said finishing his story, “Your grandmother was a good and brave woman. I’m eternally indebted to her.”

Eian had slowed his walk. “Thank you,” he murmured to Ohiel, “thank you.”

Their path was long and hard but a few days later they arrived at the battle grounds. The battle was already raging when they arrived. Eian found himself thrown into healing much more quickly than he thought was possible. But he soon found Zese was right. As the weeks began to pass he found himself growing stronger and more capable than he had ever been before. He was healing men as fast as they were injured. He could see the other side was struggling and he felt a bit vindicated as he watched their suffering. He only wished Zese was here to see their triumphs.

 

 

 

Chapter 22: Divergent Paths (Part II)

Zese’s path was tangled. He frowned as he hacked away at the vines that had grown over the path to the main road. This is what he got for taking a side route. One he had only taken once years before. He had wanted to get to Boisson’s estate was quickly as possible but felt it was his duty to stop by his family grave first and pay his respects to his dead mother and sibling. He struggled through the vines and managed to get himself even more tangled in the vine. He sighed and stopped struggling. He had to think about how to get out of this mess. He let his body hang in the vines before his eyes popped open as they suddenly dropped him to the ground. He groaned as he rolled onto his back and looked up into the leaves that covered the sky. He pushed himself back to his feet and glanced around himself in curiosity. He wondered if there were a quicker way to get out of this mess…

He pulled his sword free and slashed at the vines. They parted easily beneath his weapon and he moved forward slowly. He finally reached the edge of the vines and stepped out into the cool air gasping. He looked around himself in surprise. The vines encompassed the whole mansion! It looked like magic had done this. He turned in a slow circle as he gazed at the mansion he had lived in as a young boy. He closed his eyes and imagined it as it had used to be. Where the vines weren’t devouring everything, where the grass although long was not wild, where the mansion house was not dilapidated and falling to the ground, where the oak doors were not rotting, where the stables actually existed. Where a fire had never occurred.

Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed at the mess that had once been his home. And although it looked nothing like it had then it was still home. It was to be his now that his family was dead and his father was incapacitated because of the plague. Eian had healed his body but his mind was gone. The plague had destroyed it.

Carefully he approached the old mansion house and pushed the door inward. It swung in and stood there for a moment before with a crack it fell off of its hinges and hit the floor with a solid thud. Zese tramped over the fallen door and into the dim interior of the main foyer. The walls were no longer pristine white or off-white. They were of a muddy color. The color of gray ash. He trailed one hand across the wall and his hand came away black. Grunting he rubbed his hand on his pants but the wall had still stained his hand a