Afeallan

"Chapter" Fourteen

Rýnelic woke up. Delirium. The blood had mixed and dried with the mud wetted by morning dew smeared across his face. He couldn’t tell if his nose was broken, numbed from the cold. Tremens.  Dirt had been displaced in a trail tailing the body of the woman; dead now. Her pants were around her ankles and were responsible for the scooping and dragging of earth behind her. Her back was upturned. The way she had been left. Rýnelic stood up and looked down at her, shaking. At the blood running down her leg. The alcohol-laced vomit retched from her mouth. He lingered, looking, not sure what action should be taken. There was nothing that could be done. He rolled her over. Her stomach was scraped open, having been rubbed viciously against the cold dirt. Rýnelic thought about picking her up, taking her body to a more appropriate place. He didn’t. He pulled her pants up around her waist, gently, and left her. He ran. He ran through the streets of Afeallan, tears cleaning his face. Rage. He ran to Byldan. She stood when he burst through the door. She started to speak but stopped when Rýnelic threw himself around her. They stood together in silence. Rýnelic backed away. He held her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him, though ashamed, unable to tolerate her stare. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“Go.” Rýnelic heard the distain in her voice. Realized she had not returned his embrace. He stood back. Then she asked, lowering her face so that she could look up at him inquisitively; “Why are you leaving?”

“I’m a killer.”

“That was over a year ago. And justified.”

Rýnelic did not explain himself. “Come with me.” Rýnelic was acting sottish.

“No.”

Rýnelic stood back further. “Why?”

Byldan remained composed. Rýnelic became impatient.

“I love you,” he said, finally. He took her hand. She pulled away. “I can’t be alone, now.” Rýnelic continued. “Let’s take a walk. Through leaves, over bridges.” Byldan realized she had never walked over a bridge.

“What about Ánlic?”

Rýnelic realized he was carrying on. “What about her?” Rýnelic rubbed the crevices between his nose and eyes. “She is not the one I want with me when I die.”

“Rýnelic, you’re drunk. You’re not making any sense. Look at you. You can’t stop trembling. You look terrified. I refuse to talk to you when you’re like this.” Tears began to gather in her eyes.

“Never again. Not after last night.” Rýnelic fought tears again. Earnest. He sat down. “You don’t have to love me.” She began to speak but he hushed her. “You don’t have to love me. Just lie. Just lie with me!”

“Rýnelic, I’m betrothed to Léas.”

Rýnelic stood. He forgot about the pain in his skull. He cocked his head to the side, trying to process what he had heard. When it finally sank in he simply asked “Why did neither of you tell me?”

“It wasn’t necessary. We thought it might trouble you. Léas saw the way you looked at me some nights; the way you talked to me when you were sober. I told him he was being foolish. Perhaps not. Apparently not.”

Rýnelic didn’t know what to do. He stood there, leaning foolishly forward, shaking, gyrating almost comically. He looked around. “Okay,” was all he said. And he left, letting the door shut behind him.

Rýnelic walked aimlessly. He thought briefly of talking to Léas, apologizing, perhaps congratulating, but instead he kept walking. Too ashamed, even, to say goodbye to the Owner of the Tavern. He went to Ánlic’s home. Knocked. She was not there, he decided, when she did not answer. She watched, hidden from sight, through a window as he grew smaller and smaller, stumbling toward the sky.

He walked through the hills. He walked to the sea. To his ship. It was still intact, which would have been a surprise if he had been thinking clearly. But he wasn’t. It had not been looted, though there was not much that could have been taken, had anyone ventured out far enough to find it. He climbed on board. Looked around. Assessed the situation. Took all the half-filled bottles lining the shelves and threw them into the sea. Reached into his cloth sack. Withdrew a knife. Cut the rope, cut the tie between his vessel and the land. Between he and Afeallan.

The last fading vibrations of a bell rippled across the water.