(THOB) Chapter 112: The Stench of Decay (Patreon)

On their second night Cyrinth had looked at Ezril’s Sunders strapped to his back as if they were useless before telling him its uselessness in the art he would teach him. That night Cyrinth had had him seek him out in the darkness with closed eyes, telling him how he wasn’t simply capable of seeing in it but capable of much more.

Ezril failed to find him that night.

Cyrinth came by for seven more nights, always teaching the same skill. Always being unable to be found. Still, it wasn’t long before Ezril knew where the trees stood and how to avoid them. A skill development he attributed to having run into almost every tree around them in the first few nights. Cyrinth, however, disagreed.

While he sought to catch the old man at night, Ezril spent his time with Lenaria during the day. Since waking up only one person visited them from beyond the tent. A little girl no older than her twelfth summer would bring them food, water, and the ointment he would smear all over his body, having Lenaria help with the application against his back.

They never took walks or left the tent except in the event of needing a bath or taking a piss or shit. It was a simple schedule by all standards. The people lived within the forest and amongst the trees with no expanse of land cleared out for any purposes. It wasn’t long before Ezril realized they were still within the Arlyn forest, and not too far from them a war was on the brink of being waged. By customs they were significantly different from the realm. They shared what they had, and each family was responsible for the other. Their way of life was an easy feat, considering how few they were. Numbering no more than a hundred. Two hundred, at the most.

Save that, their appearance was no different from the people of the realm. Fair skin with a few people of darker shades. A few people bore blue or dull green eyes. At least one of them bore grey eyes. But mostly, they had brown eyes. It made Ezril wonder where exactly they had come from, how long they had lived in the forest, and if they had been the ones often watching behind the scene. Still, there was a strangeness to his stay with them.

Each time he walked passed them during the day they were always whispers. Sometimes they would whisper thinking he didn’t hear them, but he did. And though they whispered in their language, and he understood nothing they said, there was one phrase that appeared in every group. A phrase so recurring he couldn’t help but remember it: Nurnal Isht Afik.

Another thing that disturbed him was how it always seemed there was something he couldn’t see. Something that seemed to be there only when he wasn’t looking. A part of them he could only see when observing them at the edge of his vision.

On his eight night, Cyrinth returned bearing his weight on a walking stick, truly in need of its assistance. He indulged the man in their usual nightly practice coming to an end an hour before first light. Like every other night, he failed to catch him.

“The last time we spoke, before all this,” Cyrinth said as they sat in the grass. “You asked me if we would ever meet again, and I told you I wasn’t sure.”

Ezril nodded. “It was also the day I found out I was expected to one-day hunt down my adoptive father for crimes against the seminary.”

“Yes,” Cyrinth agreed. “Then, I had no definite answer for you. But tonight I do.” Ezril watched him in suspense and he continued. “After tonight, we will not meet again, child.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we are out of time.”

“But I haven’t even caught you,” Ezril protested. “I thought the point of this whole thing was to catch you.”

Cyrinth smiled. “It wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t?” Ezril repeated in disbelief. “Then why have I been doing all this? Why have you been wasting my time?”

“Because your eyes needed the time to adjust. It wasn’t ready for all of the darkness before it.”

Cyrinth had come to him every night since he woke and had made him spend most of it chasing after him with his eyes closed. He had spent most of his nights not looking in the darkness.

“You purposely kept me from looking in the dark,” he realized.

Cyrinth nodded. “Yes. Your eyes needed time to adjust and your body needed time to learn.”

“Learn what?”

“To learn what your eyes already knew.”

“The darkness?”

Cyrinth nodded again.

“And how do you know all these things?” Ezril asked.

Cyrinth shrugged. “I’m a wanderer. I’ve seen more things than I’d care to admit. I learn what I see.”

“So you’ve met someone like me.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Cyrinth rose with the aid of his stick and Ezril rose with him, making no attempt to help him. The old man shook himself visibly and turned to leave.

“We really won’t see each other again?” Ezril asked.

“Not in this lifetime.”

He watched the man cross a few paces before summoning the courage to broach the question that had plagued him all the nights they had spent together. “You aren’t human, are you?” He had smelled it on the first night, and over the nights it had only grown worse. “At least not anymore.”

Cyrinth turned briefly and flashed him an easy grin, one that exposed the yellow of his teeth. Then walked away without answer. Ezril inhaled deeply and turned to his tent knowing it being their last meeting to be true.

Cyrinth was gone for good. And with him, the stench of decay.

............................

Lenaria walked under the morning sun a few hours before noon. The sun was above her head, and fallen leaves were scattered all over the ground in so vast a number that they blotted it out. She was as pretty as always in her step. The white gown she wore swayed with every step she took. Its beauty matched with her hair that seemed to get whiter with each passing day, giving her a conspicuous look. Ezril had no doubt it had been given to her by one of the women from the tribe as he watched her from the fallen tree he sat upon.

She stopped when she got to him. And saying nothing, she squatted so she looked up at him with green eyes. Eyes full of happiness. She was always smiling, but in the past days she truly seemed happy. Unburdened. Ezril had a feeling it had something to do with being lost. All her burdens left behind in the realm. And if the realm couldn’t find her, then neither could her burdens. He wished it were true.

“What’re you doing here?” she finally spoke. “You didn’t touch your food.”

Ezril said nothing. He simply watched her. There were no hair colorings in the tribe and the blonde was fading from her hair. Her smooth skin was without blemish, all the injuries healed, leaving behind no scars. His gaze settled on her eyes and he smiled.

Green eyes looked back at him, a mix of adoration, worry and confusion in them. The confusion born of the smile on his lips, it seemed. He raised his hand and Tainted the side of her hair and she smiled, all worries seeming to fade away. His hand trailed down her hair gently, pausing slightly against her cheek before trailing down to her shoulder. Caressing it gently.

It was the same thing every day since Cyrinth left.

It had been three days since Cyrinth left for good. Three days since he began seeing it. Three days since he began seeing it on her. Every now and again he would touch her with the hopes that he could somehow touch it too. Somehow remove it.

Remove the black wisps that clung to her.

The first time he had seen it was the morning after Cyrinth left. The little girl had brought his breakfast, as was the way with her. He had been confused at first, worried that something had happened to his eyesight. They clung to her hair and skin, giving edges to her profile. They looked like shadows and smoke at the same time. He had chosen to ignore them at first. But when he’d left the tent he realized every person was covered in them. In truth, the wisps did nothing to hinder sight. They were simply there. And yet, though he could see them, they were as much there as they weren’t.

It was more pronounced on the children. A darkness darker than the darkest nights he had seen. On the adults they were a simple black, like dissipating smoke. In the elders however, it was almost translucent. But what worried him most was Lenaria. On her it was so faint he could almost not see it. Fainter even than the elderly, so much so that he often had to focus to pay it any attention. And for some reason, it truly worried him.

Unable to touch it, he took his hand away. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Maybe,” Lenaria replied. She rose and eased her way onto his lap, “but,” she reached for his hands and wrapped them around her, “you have to eat to recover.”

Ezril chuckled. She had been telling him the same thing every day since he opened his eyes. He wasn’t fully recovered. He needed to eat. Still, he had never felt healthier. He wrapped his arms around her tighter. The action came easily. “I feel fine.”