The Life of a Cave Dweller

Tanitha didn’t bother attempting to make a fire once they had settled into the dank little cave. They weren’t far enough into the dwelling, and the smell of the smoke would drive nocturnal predators right to them. She set up about ten feet from the entrance, first grabbing her animal skins and rolling them out, then taking out her water pouch.

Taking another swig, she scrunches up her nose. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff,” She hears from behind her. She ignores him for obvious reason. Why would she take advice from this guy? He can barely stand on his own two feet without someone holding his hand. She plugs the pouch and settles onto her makeshift cot.

Pulling off her leather gloves, she begins to use the tip of one of her arrows to clean under her nail, effectively forgetting about the annoying little creature. It works well until he starts to talk again. “Is this how you are with everyone? I can’t say I’m surpirsed you travel alone if this is any indication of your personality.”

She listens to the sound of his swallowing bouncing throughout the cave before she bothers responding. “You think just because you spent a few minutes looking around my room that you know me?” She barks out a laugh. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me who I am.”

The woman sits up, putting the arrow back in its place, her full attention now on the druid. She takes this time to drink in all of the details of his face. He has rigid, small lips and wide eyes that might have been brown in his past life. His white brows stand pronounced on his broad forehead. His nose is small and pointed almost like the tip of a paint brush. The druid is no small man. He has to be around six and a half feet tall, and his build is no joke.

But she can tell from the way he carries himself that he’s no fighter. He’s no warrior.

He licks his lips. “I didn’t say that I know you. It’s clear that I don’t, but-”

“Yes,” She interrupts. “It’s clear that you don’t, and we’re going to keep it that way. We aren’t going to be buddies, or travel companions. I shouldn’t have even brought you here, but it’s clear that you aren’t from these lands.” She smiles even though she knows he can’t see it. Placing a hand on her chest, she says, “Though I am a cruel bastard, I’d still like to give you a fighting chance, and these lands are unforgiving at night. Especially once it begins to storm.”

He looks towards the entrance. “It’s going to rain?” There’s a tremble in his voice that’s hard to ignore. Tanitha manages to anyway.

“Yes. It's been a while since it rained, creatures will rip themselves from the earth at the first drop of it. You would not have survived the night. Not on your own.” He nods his head, something solemn taking over him. Tanitha turns away and finds a more comfortable position, pulling her short cloak closer to her body.

“I likely won’t survive the month, if what you said is true.” He doesn’t ask her any questions, which she is grateful for. She has no answers for him, at least, not the kind that he will like. The druid turns away from her and rests his chin on his knees. Tanitha’s eyes close, just as the menacing rumbling of thunder begins to vibrate through the air.

And so the wait begins.

Tanitha’s grumbling stomach is what wakes her up the next day. She hasn’t had a proper meal in at least a month. Fear of being found and captured is what led to her essentially starving herself, and she’s not sure how much longer she can go on like this. Small forest animals and cheeses aren’t enough for her anymore, yet she pulls jerky and cheese out of her bag and munches on it anyway.

If anyone from her previous life could witness her now, she would be utterly humiliated. She’s helping foreigners and eating forest berries like some kind of mythical faerie. How had she fallen so far so fast?

She sighs.

This will all be over soon. Once she collects a few more bounties, she’ll finally have enough money to pay for a drakoen. Then she can prove her innocence. Her title will be restored, those that soiled her name will be dealt with, and life will go back to normal.

Nodding her head, she turns to look at the sleeping smazer. Whether he knows it or not, his blood is going to be her saving grace. Too bad Tanitha is going to be the dreaded omen that pulls him down to an early grave.

It’s on the third day of the rain that the druid begins to become restless. If Tanitha is being honest, staying cooped up in this cave with him has begun to take its toll on her as well. She’s spent every waking minute avoiding his eyes. Her drugs had worn off, and she’s hesitant to take them again despite their usual effectiveness. Her little ticks have gotten more obvious to the man as well, and she thinks he can sense that she’s going to explode soon.

That may be why he decides to start talking to her again.

Because of the constant rain, Tanitha felt it safe enough to build a small fire. After eating jerky and beans warmed on the flames, the druid comes and sits next to her. He stares straight ahead as he begins to speak. “I know you said you wished to know nothing about me, but I’d like at least one person to remember my name after I die.”

Her eyes can’t find a reason not to roll at his dramatics. “My name is Vahkul Kiryer and I was an ovate druid for her Great Grace, Empress of Velshlind.” Leaning against the wall of the cave, Tanitha folds her arms. It seems he will have a lot to say to her tonight.

Though her face says otherwise, she welcomes the distraction. “But I was not always a pawn of the empress.” The man’s face becomes a living storm, and Tanitha becomes just a little more interested. If this story can make a grown man cry, perhaps it is worth something to her.

He licks his lips and swallows, somehow keeping those tears at bay. She wonders if the tears of a bastardized druid are valuable. “I was three years old when my town got hit with several nasty cases of smaze. It was a small village on the outskirts, so we had no doctors nearbye. We had no one to explain what was happening. Our elders were gone within days, and soon, everyone else followed. I don’t know if you understand how the disease works, but it changes something fundamental in us, and there aren’t many that can survive it. I was the only one of my town that awoke.”

He finally lets himself cry, but Tanitha has already turned to face away from him. “A traveling coven of shamen passed through a few days later, and they took me into their care. It was with them that I discovered my abilities.” A smile, solemn yet filled with a tainted version of joy takes over his face. The tone of his voice causes her to look back at him, and his expression is so familiar that Tanitha’s chest pinches.

She can’t hold herself back from stopping him. “I don’t need to know your life story.” It’s bastardly of her to interrupt him at this moment, when he seems so vulnerable. But it’s true. She doesn’t need to know anything about the man and the same goes for him. In fact, learning more could very well be a deadly mistake.

Vahkul still remains facing away from her. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising high then falling low. “That’s true. You don’t need my life story, but I’m tired of sitting in silence. It’s been three day, and I’ve kept my mouth closed.” Now he faces her, and she immediately directs her eyes down to the collar of his tunic. “You breathed death into the air. I could die at any moment, and that fact is eating me up. This silence and this rain and these thoughts are going to kill me. I need to talk to someone”

What he seems to keep forgetting, is that none of this is of any concern to her. She couldn’t care less about him dying, so long as she gets every coin out of him that she can. She rolls her eyes. “Fine, continue. Just don’t expect me to reciprocate.”

He doesn’t thank her, but his face says enough. “Children are rarities within the coven. Since celibacy is practiced until marriage rites are performed, and one cannot remain a practicing druid once married, you don’t see young healers often. Because of this I was the child of everyone. You can’t imagine the faith that they instilled in me once the extent of my abilities became clear. The coven was my everything...”

His sad little smile fades. Tanitha senses a trope that he has yet to overcome, and she almost salivates at the thought of it. She hasn’t gossiped in years, and this is probably as close to it as she’s going to get. “Something terrible happened. I did something unforgivable, and I was put on trial. Our archdruid found me guilty. My punishment was exile. I was pushed from my coven, from my home, and my family was forced to shun me. With nowhere to go and no money, I joined the army. They always need talented healers. Now I’m here.”

Tanitha abruptly sits up. “Wait a moment! I feel as if you’ve left out a few key frames here, beetle . Being shunned by an entire coven isn’t something that just happens.” She would know. “Nor is joining the Velsh army something that one just stumbles into.” He turns his head in the complete opposite direction, and she huffs.

That must mean the conversation is over.

Silence echoes as she settles back against the wall.

But it was too good to be true. “Can I ask you a question?” She supposes it’s within his rights to do so, but that doesn’t mean she’ll answer a godsdamned thing. Tanitha gives a slight nod, her own curiosity taking over. “What’s with you calling me a beetle?” Her brows raise.

He really doesn’t get it?

Turning her attention to the protruding stone draping from the ceiling of the cave, she explains, “People of my lands have stories of your kind, you know? You aren't exactly our first foreigner, nor will you be our last. When I was little, I would sneak to listen to the noaves tell their tales of the lands far beyond the seas of our people. When they spoke of your kind, the thing that stuck with everyone was that your eyes are like a beetle’s; round and black and seemingly all knowing.”

She shrugs. “That’s how we distinguish you from the moonys in their stories.” His nostrils flare, and she realizes that he’s trying to figure out what a moony is. “It’s a group of people that are never changing. It comes from the fact that the one certain thing in this world is the moon. Moonys are those of your continents that have not yet been mutated by your nasty sickness.”

Vahkul nods, seeming to understand the need for the terms. There's another pause as he seems to wrestle inwardly with himself. The outspoken part of him wins. “Why do you dress the way you do? I’ve never seen anything like it. Even the women in the troops don’t dress so... Where I’m from, women-”

“Stop right there. I’ve never been to any of the other continents, nor will I ever. I dress as my people do, and that’s all you need to know.” She glances down at her clothes, wondering for the first time in her life what the women in other countries wear. She had seen the bodies of women that had died in that battle, and she didn't feel they were dressed too differently from herself. Are masks uncommon? Are pants sculpted to the legs and strung together with trelling feet not normal?

Her brows furrow. “Why do you take drugs? Do you have a medical condition?” She should have known that he would bring it up eventually. It was stupid of her to assume he would keep his mouth shut on this one topic.

“One might classify it as a medical condition,” Is what she says, her eyes now closed. The gods will surely punish her for that comment. Tanitha thought he would leave the topic alone, but instead he verbally rams into her.

“Do you know how they make that stuff? It’s digusting that you would even-”

“If you’re going to sit here an judge me, could you do it in silence?” She sniffles. Not a word he’s said has resonated with her, so what makes this smazer think that she’ll care about how her drugs are produced? He can kiss the bottom of her boot.

Vahkul snarls. “They involuntarily drain us of our blood! They create blood farms filled with hundreds of kidnapped people, all so that you can get a little fix to deal with your own self loathing! How did it even reach this continent?!”

This drags a laugh from her. It’s a real knee-slapper. She might have even snorted a little. “Drugs are about the only thing you people are really good for.” Vahkul shoots up, his fists curling and his lips thinning. Tanitha looks at his hands, a devious smile causing the corners of her lips to creep up. “You going to hit me beetle? ” She snorts. “No... you don’t have it in you.”

She closes her eyes, her energy making her taller than the man that stands before her. “Year after year you poisonous little leeches come to our shores with your swords and your sickness and your righteousness. Year after year, our children go missing, our crops are stolen, and our holy lands are spat on. You think I care about your people? The only redeeming thing you bring with you are your drugs, and those kill us just as well as your disease kills you. So you, your empress, and your holier-than-thou attitude can piss off.”

All of this is said with her eyes still closed, so it’s safe to say that she doesn’t realize what the stupid little druid is doing until it’s done. She feels his breath on her face just as he feels the head of her arrow at his neck. Her lids remain shuttered. “Go back to your corner, beetle,” She whispers into the dank air.

Vahkul’s adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows down his rage. “It’s people like you that we’re fighting. The intolerant and the hateful should not be allowed to roam freely in this world, or the next.”

And this is when her eyes finally open. They meet his, and she sees everything that he doesn’t want her to see. She hears every word that he left out of his story whispered into her ears. Tanitha turns to meet the eyes of someone else. “No...” She shakes her head. “It is people like her...” She points. “That you are murdering.”

Vahkul turns, and he sees what she tried not to see. A woman with hair the color of midnight stands before him. She wears nothing but a thin white nightgown, the sleeves puffed and ruffled. On her neck is a delicate necklace that houses a tiny bird shaped pendant. Her face is a grotesque painting of slashes and gaping holes where arrows used to embed her flesh.

He falls back, his hands trembling.

“How?”

This is the first time that Vahkul has truly looked into this woman’s eyes. They’re otherworldly, void of all color except the slight ring of black that serves as a divider between her irises and her sclera. Yet something swims in their depths, just barely hidden beneath the bleached currents. It pulls the air out of him.

The woman turns away from him, and he finally feels as though he can breathe again. “No...” She shakes her head at him. “It’s people like her...” The woman points. “That you are murdering.” Vahkul turns to look at whatever it is that she could possibly be seeing. His heart stops.

“How?” He asks, his hands now trembling as he scurries against the wall. Her face... she has no face. But he would recognize that nightgown anywhere. She was so excited about it. She had raved and raved about how she had bought it with her own money. She had told him that she had to deliver at least twenty dresses for her mistress in order to afford it. “Manny...” He calls out as she drops to the ground.

The disfigured woman’s arms bend inward as she crawls towards him. Though she no longer has a mouth, she screams for his help. The guttural sound scrapes at the inside of his head. Vahkul’s eyes close as he shakes his head and pounds on his ears. “ I can’t- I can’t- I can’t ,” He chants as her screams grow louder.

Her voice used to be magical. It was like the trail of a silk dress sliding across marble floors, smooth and graceful and playful. Her face used to be beautiful, her cheeks red with life and her eyes glittering. She used to be alive, and now she’s not. Make it stop- make it stop- make it stop.

And then it stops.

And he breathes.

And when he opens his leaking eyes, he sees the soulless witch watching him. Her colorless eyes void of emotion and her face hidden behind her mask. This is when he realizes that she’s no ordinary woman, and she’s no seer. “What are you?”

With eyes that never leave him, she walks to the fire and smothers it with her foot. As the cave goes dark, Vahkul catches something he doesn’t think he was supposed to. “I'm the carrier. ”

He doesn’t sleep that night, and he has a feeling that she doesn’t either.