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A Perfect World - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2022-11-05 20:40:40 +0000 UTC-----------------------------------------------
An ethereal breeze stirred the evergreens. Perennials, wearing leafy coats, sprung from the soil. Spring waxed strongly. It was remarkable, how nature isolated.
A feathery touch settled on Sixth’s shoulder.
Comfort.
He looked, but there was nothing.
“Are you there?”
A susurrus sounded at the edge of his hearing. Sixth rubbed his itching eyes. Late nights and early mornings didn’t suit him.
“Am I doing the right thing?”
His head was a mess. Maybe he’d acted rashly.
He followed the stream as it snaked down the mountain. It led deeper into the wilderness.
‘These wilds could swallow countries whole.’
It hadn’t manifested since… the incident. He thought it was gone forever. He’d hoped the problem was solved. He’d been wrong.
He looked behind. A second pair of footprints were imprinted in the wet river soil. They maintained a distance of five yards.
‘It never appeared when I was around Griffin.’
She was special, but he didn’t remember her having that kind of ability.
‘If she can restrain it, then leaving was stupid.’
Emotion had clouded his mind and he’d acted on impulse. He thought about returning.
‘But, if I’m wrong, the consequences would be… dire.’
The fact that those people hadn’t enslaved them on sight was inconceivable. On top of that, they’d been fed and given a place to sleep. What would happen to them if his fears were justified?
He stopped walking. At his rear, the footprints halted as well.
Sixth was deep in thought, considering his next course of action. As the minutes passed and he remained unmoving, the footprints took a step.
Four yards.
When he remained unresponsive, the space between them was reduced further.
Three yards.
Sixth’s stupor persisted. The footprints advanced.
Two yards.
A tingling sensation at the back of his neck drew his attention. It was like a charged balloon being held a few inches from his head.
He froze up.
One yard.
The footprints stopped. Someone was standing behind him, staring holes into the back of his head. He was instantly soaked in sweat.
He turned slowly.
He saw nothing, but something was there. It was magnetizing in a way he couldn’t explain.
Hypnotized, he stretched forth a hand.
His eyes pierced the space in front of him. His pupils were black and gaping. Air swirled. Motes of dust shimmered. Did he imagine it, or was there a faint distortion…?
‘A nose. A chin. Feminine.’
Sixth was on the cusp of solving the mystery that’d plagued him for years. As his fingers drew closer, he felt his body temperature dropping rapidly. Then…!
The tips of his fingers made contact.
‘Cool. Smooth.’
It was like pressing his hand against water. If he put a bit more strength into his palm, his hand would pass through.
Dazed, his grip slid downwards. His touch moved from a neck to a shoulder. He could feel their shapes under his palm.
An insane thought flashed through his mind. A feeling welled in his chest and bubbled to his throat. He was swollen with it - bursting at the seams.
Before he could stop himself, a question burst from his lips.
“Mom…?”
Phantom fingers entwined with his own. A hand fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Sixth’s eyes became hot and itchy. He seesawed from elation to despair as reality smashed into him like a freight train.
‘She’s really dead.’
Years of uncertainty couldn’t compare to what he felt right now.
Wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulder blades. Eyes filled with warmth and laughter. A nose dotted with freckles - he could see it, clear as daylight.
His emotional state settled into sad confusion. How could she do something so heinous?
“Why did you kill the old man?”
Sixth’s throat was hoarse. The question dropped like a lead parachute.
He had to know.
The hands touching him stopped their movement. The temperature dropped dramatically and static electricity sparked in the air. The hairs all over his body stood on end.
Tension built until… the entity suddenly released him. He felt it retreat from his touch. The cold dissipated and the air stilled. The second pair of footprints vanished.
Frustration and anger welled in Sixth’s chest.
“Tell me!”
A loud bellow tore from his throat. He didn’t receive an answer.
He frantically scanned the surroundings to no avail. She’d disappeared into thin air.
Sixth slumped forward, his knees pressing into the wet soil. He was exhausted.
As he wiped his sweaty forehead, he realized he was trembling. He held his hand in front of his face.
‘So cold…!’
He couldn’t stop shaking. On top of that, a terrible bout of lightheadedness beset him. He sucked in a weak breath. It didn’t help.
Panic encroached on his thoughts. He tried to stand up, but he couldn’t. His legs were without strength.
He set his palms against the ground and shifted his weight forward. His arms folded like cardboard. His right shoulder hit the ground and his face soon followed.
The scent of mulch pervaded his nostrils. A stick dug into his cheek.
He realized he was hypothermic. The panic intensified. He needed to warm up or he was done for. He tried to move again but it was no use. He was swimming in molasses.
His mind was turning off. Strange patterns and colors danced in his vision.
He didn’t think today was going to be his last. It was too sudden. He thought of his mother. Did she resent him for not saving her? Was this her revenge?
‘Maybe it was an accident.’
He didn’t want to believe she’d killed him on purpose.
His final thoughts were of his childhood.
He’d felt terrible guilt toward the woman who’d raised him. Despite her youth, she’d been a good parent. He did what he could to repay her, but he was never able to sooth his own conscience.He had possessed her real child. The person who she’d loved had disappeared a long time ago.
His lips moved, but the only sound that left his mouth was the chattering of teeth.
Sixth lost consciousness.
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A figure stalked the forest.
His course mirrored a wandering stream’s, sporadically deviating into the thicket.
Gnarled fingers traced fossil trunks, wide nostrils scented moist air and wild eyes scraped dark soil.
Freldt’s search was unfruitful.
The netlike canopy, woven from green needles, caught all but the wispiest beams of light. He noted the hue of a scattered ray. It was shifting.
His visage became cloudy. Much time had passed. He straightened his crouch - there was nothing to be done.
‘Perhaps they’ve had more success.’
He returned the way he’d come, his long legs lurching faster than the average jog.
Freldt’d long since noticed an abnormality in his environment – an absence of birdsong. Were a lynx on the prowl, the creatures wouldn’t be silent.
The only thing he could hear was the woods’ whispering. It made him uneasy.
Thick fingers instinctively traced the form of a large knife. Its scratched blade was the length of his forearm.
His ears twitched. Distantly, he heard a branch crack. The sound of rustling leaves followed, coming from the same direction.
He dropped to his stomach and put one ear to the ground. A faint thudding was conveyed to his senses. Something was headed his way.
Wasting no time, he scaled a nearby tree. His significant bulk ascended with unnatural grace. Perching on a thick branch, he stared warily ahead.
It wasn’t long before he saw figures among the trees.
Freldt huffed, relaxing at the sight. Those two were too careless. They were heralding their approach to every pair of ears within two hundred yards.
He watched them approach from underneath thick brows. When they were a short distance away, he spoke.
“Afternoon.”
The girl and the mercenary almost jumped out of their skins. Their heads swiveled wildly.
Once Wilk’d located his colleague, he sheathed his sword.
“What the devil are you doing up there?”
Freldt ignored him. Instead, he looked at ‘lady Madeline’. She was like a bobcat who had its tail stepped on. He addressed her dryly.
“It looks like your friend doesn’t want to be found.”
The maiden clenched her jaw at him. Her complexion was unwell.
“He wouldn’t leave without saying a word.”
She sounded exhausted.
Wilk sighed and patted her shoulder. He made eye contact with Freldt.
“I take it you were without success as well?”
The big man nodded. His gaze had returned to Griffin. Despite what he’d said, he didn’t think this situation was so simple.
‘A stinky brat like him would cling to her like dogshit.’
He recalled his own youthful escapades. Like any other boy, there wasn’t a single thing more important to him than chasing skirts. Some of the things he did… God above, it made him wish he could scrub the inside of his head with a steel brush.
After a moment’s thought, he easily clambered down from his perch. It was an incongruent sight, given his considerable bulk.
“Would you like to keep searching?”
When his feet touched the ground, he directed the question at Griffin.
She crossed her arms and set her feet apart. Stubbornness was carved into her every feature.
“I won’t leave before I’ve found Sixth.”
The mercenary and the cook exchanged glances. They could guess each other’s thoughts.
‘She’s dead set on finding him. It’s a bit strange…’
It wasn’t normal for a person of high station to care this much about a servant - certainly not to the extent they’d lead the search personally. Could there be something between the two…?
Sixth’s childish face entered their minds. His freckled visaged didn’t have a single whisker.
The men shook their heads inwardly.
‘With him? No way.’
They returned their attention to the girl.
Seeing that she’d regained their attention, Griffin’s shoulders drooped. One hand tugged dejectedly at her skirts. She looked like a lost puppy.
“I don’t expect your accompaniment. You may return, if you wish.”
Her voice was thin and weak.
The cook and the mercenary felt something tugging at their heartstrings. There was something about the girl that fanned the protective instincts of both men.
Wilk wagged his finger at her, a vein pulsing at his temple. He sounded outraged at her suggestion.
“Nonsense. If misfortune befell you as well, the madam would skin us alive!”
Freldt tugged at his beard. If he was impressed by his colleague’s chivalry, then he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed to be fighting the urge to accommodate Griffin unquestioningly.
“We’ll continue. However, when daylight wanes, this hunt ceases.”
His tone brooked no argument.
Griffin could only give a limp nod. She knew how rapidly darkness descended inside the woods. It’d caught her off guard more than once. Not only would it be unsafe, but there would also be no way to continue their search without light.
Freldt posed a question.
“Have you exhausted the north?”
Wilk raised a hand and answered for them both.
“We have. The water leads to an impasse. It’s impossible to climb without equipment.”
Freldt hummed. He’d not found a single clue while combing this area, but if they’d no other choice…
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.
“Let’s be on our way, then. The stream continues downhill. There’s not much time left, so we should make the most of it.”
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Reality was catching up with Griffin. It made her feel numb.
‘Does he really not want to be found?’
If he’d encountered a catastrophe, wouldn’t there have been some clue? She could think of only one other reason for the lack of evidence.
‘Could he have been kidnapped? Maybe the perpetrators had fled the moment they caught him… One could’ve trailed behind to erase any clues.’
She scrutinized the surrounding environment with hawklike eyes. The impregnable woods made her heart sink further into her stomach.
Anxiety buzzed in her mind. It spurred her onward, causing her to unconsciously increase her pace.
‘If we don’t find him today…’
She shook her head. It would be counterproductive if she panicked.
Her legs carried her to a gravelly cul-de-sac, ballooning outwards from the place where the river formed an elbow. The terrain obfuscated any impressions on top of the soil.
Something drew her sight. She almost didn’t notice it.
After hurrying toward it, she crouched down. Her breath caught in her throat as she traced the shape with an index finger – the ball of a foot indented the dirt where it met with the gravel. At the shape’s end, a heel was clearly imprinted.
Griffin’s eyes trembled. She may as well have been struck on the back of her head with a wooden plank. It had appeared too suddenly.
It took a moment for her to recover from her stupor. A shout burst from her chest.
“Over here!”
The three had separated into a concentric formation with her in the middle. They could cover more ground that way.
A voice sounded somewhere to the west. She couldn’t make out the words.
“Quickly!”
He next shout bounced off the surrounding boulders. The urgency was clear in her tone.
The footprint followed the stream. If she stayed her course…
Her body had started moving without her even realizing. In the time it’d taken for her to form her thoughts, she’d already covered twenty yards. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. The only thought in her mind was that Sixth had to be nearby.
“Sixth!”
She halted for a second and called to him. No reply came. She started running again.
Her foot caught on a root. She barely stopped herself from slamming into the ground face-first. She wasn’t able to prevent the gravel from taking the skin off her knees. Pain was a familiar friend of hers. It helped to sharped her mind.
Round, black pupils swept the shape of the stretch of river ahead. There…!
She scrambled to her feet, uncaring of the blood running down her shins. She could’ve sworn…
‘Yes!’
It was another footprint. She noted the direction it was pointing in absentmindedly before continuing her reckless rush.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen…
The footprints continued to increase in frequency the further she went. Ecstasy buzzed in Griffin’s head – she could tell she was getting closer!
“Sixth!”
Her throat was almost raw from all the screaming. The pain in her knees had become a dull throb.
Clambering over rocks and stumps, she descended a rocky decline. There, where the stream met with another waterflow, she saw something that made her feel like she’d been struck by lightning. On a washed-out patch of sand, a bundle of furs laid, curled into a ball.
She had no awareness of how she’d crossed the space between them. There was only one thing on her mind as she frantically rolled him onto his back…
‘He’s so cold!’
Her trembling hands tried to rub some warmth into his limbs, but it was in vain. She didn’t even think to check if he was alive.
“Help! He’s here, he’s over here!”
She called desperately to the two men behind her. She had no clue how far away they were, but she imagined she could hear gravel crunching in the distance.
Somehow, her chaotic mind managed to think of starting a fire. Shivering, she roughly pulled at the sack he always carried on him. A dozen things tumbled to the ground as she upended it.
She stared dumbly at the bow-drill in her hands. For some reason, she couldn’t think what to do next.
Tears dripped onto her hands. Static electricity arced from the ends of Sixth’s hair to her, but she didn’t even notice it.
With blurry eyes, she saw the sleeves of her cotton dress. She tried to tear off the sleeves, but they were knit too tightly. Her eyes went to once of Sixth’s knives. The blade was short and wide and the edge was serrated.
Her hands trembled so badly that she accidently sliced herself before managing to cut off a strip.
‘Wood, I need wood!’
Her head turned one-hundred and eighty degrees in her search. Spotting a toppled trunk, she hurriedly scrambled toward it.
“What happened?!”
She heard a shout somewhere nearby. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Freldt coming down the slope. There were leaves in his beard and he had a scratch on one cheek.
“H-He’s dying… I n-need to make a f-fire!”
She wiped her teary eyes with her free hand, but it didn’t help much. She still held the knife in the other – she wanted to cut some wood from the trunk.
Freldt covered the remaining distance in the blink of an eye. He was deceptively fast.
Crouching over Sixth’s unconscious form, he felt for a pulse. It was incredibly weak.
“He’s freezing! What on earth…”
He pinched the boy’s clothes. They weren’t even wet. How in the world could this have happened…?
With a resolute expression, he stripped both himself and Sixth and bear-hugged the youth to his chest.
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“…happening lately. Give them something lighthearted, something to lift their spirits.”
Ingrid was talking to an old man, wearing a strange cap on his head. The two were sitting at a wooden table. They each nursed a cup of mulled wine.
She stared into the dark, steaming liquid.
“Aye, we’ll nae do anythin’ tae unsettle yer folk. Missy.”
She addressed her personal maid, standing behind her.
Missy snapped to attention when she heard her name. Her hand, which had been at her mouth, was quickly shoved behind her back. She’d been chewing on her nails.
“Ma’am?”
Ingrid sighed.
“Draw me water, girl. Yer scufflin’ is getting’ on me nerves.”
Missy nodded and hurried outside the tavern.
Once she’d left, the old man raised an eyebrow at Ingrid.
“Is something the matter?”
The troupe’s boss sighed and slumped in her seat.
“Aye, uncle Will.”
As the settlements near the border continued to grow more unsafe, they’d taken to circling this part of the country. This wasn’t the first time they’d visited Annesley – she’d gotten to know the Baron’s manservant over the years.
She told the old timer what’d transpired last night and today.
He stroked his moustache in thought.
“Unfortunately, it’s too common these days. There are more children without parents than with.”
He sighed drearily.
“If they’re still not back before tonight, I’ll recommend a woodsman for your service. There’s a few fellows that know these parts like the back of their hands.”
Remembering something, he raised a finger.
“They’ll only go out tomorrow, of course.”
Ingrid took a sip of her drink. She wasn’t too worried. Wilk was a recent hire, but Freldt… he was a bastard, but she knew his capabilities.
“Thank ye.”
The old man stood up with a bowed back. He picked up his cup and downed the contents in a single swig. A sound of satisfaction slipped from between his lips.
“I’ve sent a handful of lads to help keep an eye on the wagons. Can’t be too careful, these days.”
Snorting, Ingrid reached into a pouch at her side and shoved a few coins into Will’s hand.
“Oh, I could never…!”
The old man hurriedly refused, but Ingrid knew it was only for propriety’s sake. After much insistence, he accepted it with a ‘begrudging’ expression.
“Well then, I’ll be on my way, madam. I look forward to tomorrow’s performance”
After the two exchanged greetings, they went their separate ways. Ingrid couldn’t wait to soak in a hot bath.
‘Birdie, birdie… ye’ll regret if ye miss tomorrae.’
A mental image was conjured in Ingrid’s head – of ‘lady Madeline’ waving her handkerchief at the horde of menfolk who’d surely attend. She could already see the coin rolling in.
The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.
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