Archive of Our Own

I remember…

Sand. Burning hot and scalding my skin but I couldn’t make my body move to get it to stop. It filled my lungs and pulled me under even though I swore there was still air for me to breathe. I thought I was hallucinating the wagon, even when the three masked figures stepped out. I thought it was nice of my brain to give me something to keep me company while I died. Only one of the figures remained with me. And he spoke to me instead of about me though I couldn’t make my brain work to understand. I still thought I was dreaming even when he examined ragged wounds with gentle hands. It was the water that woke me. When my body remembered what it needed. And I reached up to pull the canteen closer to drown myself twice over.

I look up at the stars and watch how patterns form between them. One star burns brighter than the others, like fire in darkness. It calls me to it in ways I don’t understand, just as I don’t understand how this book seems to stir in my hands. But I am the only one who can do this. The only one of us four who can make sense of the curves on the page. And it feels strange to be needed. It’s something I never thought I’d find here.

Stone. Hot and cold in irregular places but all of it rough to the touch. As Rukey clambered over tall boulders and scrambled beneath low bushes I was left to navigate by more obvious paths. My wounds protested and ached and some I knew would need to be rebound when we returned. But no matter how much I tried I was rarely at his side. As soon as I caught up he was always off again. A white dart zipping across the landscape. But he paused often for me, chatting amicably about people I didn’t know and places I’d never seen. Like I was an old friend, and not just some stranger found dying in a wasteland.

I watch as the Accusers vanish into the darkness. Once their backs are turned Rukey pulls a face that almost makes me laugh. I bite down on my tongue because I think it would be rude to laugh. They’re only chasing after freedom, the same as us. But Rukey notices and flashes me a sharp toothed grin that somehow makes me want to laugh even more.

Fear. Gripping my heart as my hands started to shake when I realized I was being watched. Though they encouraged me to read it still felt like shame. Secret and illicit. I had not forgotten the last time I was caught gleaning meaning from a page. Hedwyn must have noticed the guilt in my eyes or how panic held my body taut, but he didn’t say so. Instead he said he often wondered what it’d be like to read. And I was surprised by how he could say that so easily. And then I remembered that the Commonwealth’s laws hold no power over the already damned. That we can drag ourselves down no further. But before I could put my thoughts into words and offer to teach him he had already gone back inside.

I turn to see Hedwyn removing his mask and tucking it under one arm. He reaches up to brush absently at the red hair matted against his skin. He catches me watching and smiles. Always smiling and always friendly even when I’m too nervous or scared to acknowledge it. Especially when I’m too nervous or scared to acknowledge it. But this time I find myself smiling back, and I’m surprised that it comes so easily.

Shadows. Momentarily chased away by candle light as I searched for something I didn’t know what I was looking for. When Jodariel spoke I jumped at her voice, I was always startling at something it seemed, but calmed when I realized it was only her. She asked if I was afraid of her. And I promised to be honest so I told her that I wasn’t. That she made me feel safe. And she said that I should be afraid and I thought that I said the wrong thing and that honesty wouldn’t help me. But as she turned away I saw something different in her eyes. Like a spark had been kindled there. As though, somehow, in the words of a person recently met and barely known she found a glimmer of hope.

I look up at Jodariel, I always have to look up, and take in the curve of her horns. How they cast dramatic shadows in the low candle light. She does not look at me, but it doesn’t matter. Because I know that I proved myself, and I know that she knows this too. That she is silently pleased and proud and hopeful. And that makes me feel strong in ways I thought I’d never feel again.

Night. Swallowing me up as I tried to calm my nerves by pressing the book against my chest so hard that the edges left marks in my skin. I felt out of place without wearing special raiment like the others. All I had was clothing marking me as a criminal. The same I wore when I was paraded through alabaster streets. And I still favoured one side from injuries I didn’t quite remember receiving. But they swore I was needed. And I knew they were right. And they stood in front of me as if to protect me even though I was meant to be looking after them. I’m glad they did. It made me feel brave.

“Until we’re free…” Jodariel says, and the hope in her voice is easily missed.

“Until we’re free,” Hedwyn affirms, and I wish I shared his confidence.

For I feel strange and uncertain. As if any moment I will realize I am still dying with sand in my lungs. But the stars promise guidance and these people have been kind. Whatever path we’re forced to take for freedom at least we take it together. And that, more than anything, feels right. Even if they didn’t need me, even if I didn’t need them, I know I would stay by their side.