Mwyr - Chapter Two

[lady_mab]

Arika sucked in a deep, slow breath. She closed her eyes against the pain of her chest expanding. Lungs pressed against ribs pressed against skin. She was alive. That was a start.

She counted to four as she exhaled, then let her eyes flutter open. Pale morning light filtered through lace curtains to streak the low wooden ceiling. It wasn’t a ceiling she recognized.

The bed wasn’t one she recognized either. A quilt covered her body in a field of dark blues and greens and creams.

Her toes wiggled in greeting. Her legs worked. That was another good start.

A sleepy huff of breath broke the silence of the room, and a few muttered words let her know she wasn’t alone.

Neck creaking, Arika’s head rolled to the side. The noise came from a young man half-curled, half-sprawled in a wooden rocking chair. His long legs stuck out awkwardly into the space between him and the bed, but his arms folded tight over his chest.

He let out another mumbled mess that might have been words. His dirty blond hair stuck out at odd angles, clumped together like it hadn’t dried properly. A ceramic mug sat on the small trunk pushed up against the wall.

Her head rolled to the other side. A muscle pulled with the movement, and she winced at the sudden pain. Only a bureau with four drawers and a bedside table decorated that half of the room.

It must have been someone’s room at one point. Though judging by the lack of decorations, not for awhile.

Arika pressed her palms into the mattress. With a mighty heave, she forced herself upright. The world tilted one way then another, and she had to press her forehead to her knees to make it stop.

Every muscle protested even the slightest movement, but she pushed on anyway. She swung her legs out on the other side of the bed to avoid knocking into the young man’s feet. Not wanting to wake him, she worked her way into a standing position.

Her legs trembled for a moment, but held firm. Each step grew more confident until she reached the door. Fingers wrapped around the brass handle, warming it to her touch before she pulled it in toward her.

The hinges squealed, and she froze -- eyes jumping to the man across the room.

He snuffled and buried deeper into the unyielding depths of the chair.

She waited until his breathing steadied then stepped into the hall. Unwilling to run the risk of the door squeaking again, she left it open. To her left, the hall ended a few yards away at a wooden wall. There was a door opposite of hers, but she didn’t test it. That wouldn’t be the way out.

She took several steps down the hall before she realized that her boots were missing.

How... had she gotten here? She didn’t walk. If she concentrated, she had the vague memory of standing under a tree in the rain. Of scales and bone-white skin and a voice calling her Goddess.

But before that...

Blank.

Arika struggled against the sudden weight settling on her chest. Air wheezed into her lungs as she forced herself to breathe.

She lifted a hand to her head, feeling for any sort of lump or abrasion that would explain... Explain what? Why she couldn’t remember anything but her name and the faintest sensation that this is not home?

Her feet sprung into action. They carried her without thought down the unfamiliar hall to deposit her in the kitchen.

The man seated at the table looked up at the sound of her footsteps. A second later, he rose to his feet. “Good morning,” he said, voice deep and stilted. He moved to stand in front of a piece of parchment, as if he didn’t want her to see it. “Did you sleep well?”

“Where am I?” She held up a hand before he could respond, not liking the way his face twisted in confusion. It meant that there was something she was supposed to know but didn’t. “How did I get here?”

“Er... you don’t remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Breathing still took far more effort than it should have. When she wavered in her spot, he closed the distance between them and put an arm around her shoulders. “Mostly--” She inhaled, exhaled, counted to four each time. “A big blank.”

“You remember your name?”

“Arika.”

“Do you remember mine?”

She looked up at him, comforted by his warmth. It was familiar, though the expression he wore meant that it wasn’t supposed to be. He had no idea who she was. “I don’t... Am I supposed to know you?”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. Something that might have been disappointment tightened the edge of his jaw. “No. I don’t think you are. I’m Chan. I found you last night, under the tree--”

That she could recall. “The large tree by the side of the road. You came tearing down the path from the mountains and there was a winged monster.” She closed her eyes, and felt the scaled arm around her throat and tasted the air heavy with blood on her tongue. “That man called me Goddess.”

Chan hesitated, his green eyes unable to focus on her. “And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“The Goddess?”

Arika might have laughed if she had felt more confident that her answer was no. Instead, a weak huff of air trickled from between her lips and she shrugged. “You tell me.”

His expression darkened and a frown tugged at his mouth. But instead of complaining, he took a step back and waved a hand to the rest of the kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat? I can put some water on to boil if you would like tea.”

She pressed a hand to her stomach, but there was no gurgle in response. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry. Maybe later.”

They stood, awkwardly facing off -- neither one prepared to be the first to move.

Arika bit back a sigh and scrubbed her face with both hands. “Some water would be nice, though. I’m still feeling a little dizzy.”

This gave Chan the opportunity he needed to start moving again. Without sparing her another glance, he whirled around and moved over to the cupboards.

She approached the table and sat down with a slight groan. Now that she allowed herself to hesitate, her muscles decided voice their displeasure at the decision to get out of bed. The parchment across the table caught her eye, and she strained to read it without having to reach for it.

The strokes were bold and confident, though not written by a man used to delicate quills. What she could remember of his hands, they were large and covered in calluses. A working man’s hands.

The thought struck a chord in her, but the memory fled capture the moment she tried to follow it.

A battered pewter mug was set down on the table before her. She dragged her head aloft with considerable effort.

Chan offered a smile as their gazes met, though it wobbled and didn’t stay in place long enough. “I’m writing a letter to the Church,” he explained, moving to sit down across the table from her. His fingers fidgeted with the parchment, though he didn’t turn it about for her to see. Nor did he didn’t attempt to clarify further.

Arika took a grateful gulp of the water. She hadn’t realized how parched she had been until she started speaking. “Because I am supposed to be the Goddess.”

He fiddled with the quill, with the pot of ink, with the parchment -- anything but meet her gaze. “You are the Goddess.”

“Great. I’m glad you could answer my earlier doubts.”

A barely disguised wince crossed his face, but she didn’t allow herself to focus on the twist of guilt that came with it.

“And how did you know that that’s what I am? Because of what that man yesterday said? Because I looked like that girl -- what was her name? Tallah?”

“No--”

“That’s why you stopped by the tree. If I looked like anyone else, you wouldn’t have.”

Chan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but he lifted his eyes to hers and she saw the rebuttal die in his throat. “Yes. I stopped because I thought you were my sister come back from the dead. Loki said those things to goad you -- not me: You.”

You are lying to yourself if you think she has nothing to do with this. That’s what Loki had said, despite Chan insisting that she was innocent. Those words meant nothing to her without context. There was no way they he meant them for her.

Arika struggled to contain her annoyance. There was no reason to unleash it on the person who took her in, but at the moment, she had no one else to be angry at. “The three of you aren’t related, are you?”

Obviously not a question he had anticipated. He drew back, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “No. We were all adopted. We came from the same orphanage, so we grew up together.” He forced his hands to stop fiddling with the feathered tip of his quill.

“I see.” She twisted the cup between her fingers. She kept her head down to avoid his expression, but only saw hers reflected back at her. “How much do I look like her?”

It took a long time for Chan to gather the breath he needed to reply. “At first glance, exactly alike. We were told--” He stopped, swallowed, and struggled with the words. “Representatives from Hullenscir told us that Tallah was the next avatar for the Goddess.”

“I don’t understand.” She finally forced herself to look. He sat covering his mouth with one hand and gripping his jaw so tight that the tips of his fingers turned white. He begged her not to ask, not to push the topic, and that just made her angrier as the truth dawned on her. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Like you’re the only one who’s troubled.” Arika gestured at herself. “I have no idea where I am or who I am, and now you are trying to tell me that my face isn’t even my own?”

“Goddess--”

“No. You’re not allowed to address me like that. You look at this face and you see someone else, so you call me Goddess to get around it. My name is Arika, and the least you can do is call me by it.” When she forced herself to breathe, the air rattled around the empty space between her ribs. She felt hollow, shoved into an ill-fitting suit.

There was another considerable pause before his voice wheezed out of his lungs. “I’m not... I’m not blaming you--”

“You are. You don’t think so, but you are.” Arika placed her hands against the table in an attempt to shove herself to her feet. Her arms couldn’t support her weight. “And I guess... for whatever part I have unwittingly played, I’m sorry. But don’t even think of treating me as the person who took your sister’s spot.”

“I wouldn’t. Trust me, Goddess, I wouldn’t be able to.”

She had to admire the way he could still call her that without looking her in the eyes. His own attempt at reconciling whatever sort of guilt he grappled with. It did little to put her at ease, though. “Alright,” she said, for lack of anything better to fill the silence with.

He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze lowered and his hands covering the lower half of his face. The letter remained unfinished in the space between them.

Arika managed to lever herself to her feet, though she had to grip the edge of the table to keep herself upright. She couldn’t find the words that needed to be said.

As she turned to leave the kitchen, he called out after her. “You can stay here, for the time being.”

Her feet paused, and she lingered in the threshold. “Until?”

“Until this letter reaches the Church and they send someone to fetch you.”

Fetch you. An object left behind that needed to be retrieved. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she forced herself to say, “Thank you.” It sounded reedy and clipped to her own ears.

Once she heard quill on parchment again, she took that as her cue to leave. Even though she would have loved to leave the house completely, she had nowhere else to go. The conversation with Chan left her drained, emptier than waking up and realizing she didn’t quite know who she was.

Back in the small room, the rocking chair was empty and a large black dog had taken up residence at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t until she shut the door that she realized her feet carried her back without a conscious thought.

Was it some sort of strange muscle memory that lingered on in Tallah’s body? Or did she remember the way back after wandering into the kitchen without thinking about it?

A growl burned at the back of her throat, and the dog whined in response to the sound. His tail thumped when she looked over.

Arika shoved away from the door and dragged herself onto the bed. “Hello, dog. You probably think I look like her too, don’t you?” The dog crawled up the mattress to lick her face, and she threw one arm around his neck and sighed. “At least you can’t call me Goddess.”

He woofed, and she snuggled against his warmth. She closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the fact that she was not who everyone wanted her to be.

#

When Sera woke to find the bed empty, his first thought was that everything had just been a bad dream. He visited Chan and somehow wandered into Tallah’s old bedroom. He fell asleep staring at a memory.

He pushed himself to his feet and ignored the disturbed blankets and strange boots. He stumbled down the hall, past the great room and the foyer. Thin morning light streamed in through the windows, peeking through the clouds from last night’s storm. His hand landed on the door to the kitchen, but he froze when he heard voices on the other side.

Chan’s, rumbling and awkward. And then--

She didn’t sound like Tallah. Not really. Where Tallah had been soft and polite, this girl spoke with an edge to her voice. Despite the hesitation in her words, she made herself heard.

Sera backed away from the door and kept walking down the second hall. He shoved open the door to the guest bedroom he generally claimed as his, and sank to the floor with his back to the wall.

It hadn’t been a dream. Not that he honestly expected the Goddess to play nice -- not at this point in the game.

He forced his hands through his hair. His breath wheezed out of his lungs in the most ungraceful way possible. The Church had been right all along. When they came to Wellfox proclaiming Tallah as the next avatar, no one knew what that meant.

The only thing they had been certain of was that she had to leave them.

Sera had no idea how long he remained hunched over his knees. It felt like ages by the time he heard distant footsteps and a door slamming shut. Shortly after, heavy footsteps thudded down the hall toward his open door.

Chan knocked on the wooden frame before leaning in. “Hey.”

He grunted in response, but managed to force his head up.

“I’m going in to town to post the letter.” He held up the folded parchment. “I think I’m going to stop by Cassia’s on the way back.”

Sera’s neck creaked as he tilted his head all the way back. “You’re not going to ask her to visit, are you?”

“I thought about it... It would do the Goddess some good to have someone else around, but...” He trailed off and shrugged. “Can you look after her, just in case?”

This time, he wasn’t about to let the side-stepping pass. “In case of what? What happened last night that you aren’t telling me?”

Chan struggled with his thoughts. His fingers fidgeted with the parchment before shoving it into his belt. “I saw Loki yesterday.”

Sera scrambled to his feet, long limbs flailing in the process. “And you wanted to keep that a little secret?”

“He’s my brother. It’s my messed up family.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one that kept you alive when you lost both of them. I know that... we were never that close, but I at least deserve to know when Loki pops up again.” Sera pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to steady his racing mind. “So? Two years with no word and he just decides to reappear when the Goddess returns? That’s not ominous at all.”

There was a pause, and when he turned to look, Chan shifted from foot to foot like a scolded child.

“What?” he asked, drawing out the syllable as long as he could. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I honestly--” Chan cut himself off, falling back against the door frame and covering his face with both hands. A heavy sigh leaked from between his fingers. “He had this creature with him -- it called him ‘Master’. It was easily my height. Covered in scales and had a pair of wings. It was...” He gestured vaguely into the space before him, eyes distant. “It was old. Made of magic.”

Sera’s legs trembled, and he stumbled backward until his knees hit the edge of his bed and he crumbled onto it. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“You think I’m lying about what I saw?”

“No. No, of course not. This is fantastic.” He tossed his hands into the air and surprised himself by laughing. “Your sister is back from the dead and your brother has summoned a species that doesn’t exist.”

“What was it?”

Sera’s shoulders heaved in a mighty shrug, letting his hands fall limp into his lap. “The few legends I’ve read call them Ti’Corrah.”

“Them?”

“There is supposed to be six. The original followers of the Goddess. The legend goes that they were cursed for betraying the Goddess and trying to use magic. The Rotia tribes call them demons, like they weren’t even human to start with.”

Chan stared, wide-eyed. “Do you think that it’s possible he could have all six?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Do you think he has that ability?”

“Two years ago, I would have said no. Now... I’m not too sure.” Chan glanced down at his hands, picking at his nails in the silence. “I should go. The sooner we get this off, the sooner we can be rid of this mess.”

Sera nodded, unable to lift his gaze from the floor. He didn’t have the heart to remind him that with the Goddess in Tallah’s body, they would never officially be rid of it.

It wasn’t until the front door slammed shut that he could shove himself to his feet again. He couldn’t see the stables from the front windows, but the sounds of Chan calling to his horse were audible.

Down the hall, Tallah’s door remained closed. Still, he figured he should at least try to make the Goddess comfortable. Did she even need to eat? Knowing Chan, he would have had breakfast hours ago and then never thought to offer her anything.

He approached with a degree of caution. No sounds came from the other side, so for lack of anything better to do, he rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Lady? Are you awake?”

“I am. Come in.”

Sera winced as he pushed the door open. He had half-hoped that she would be asleep, or, preferably, just not there. Instead, he found her sitting on one of the window seats, looking out over the front porch. The expanse of green hills hinted at the distant town of Wellfox proper. The windows were both open, letting in the crisp breeze that made it easier to breathe in the room.

She didn’t turn when he entered at least. He didn’t want to see her face just yet.

On the bed, sprawled out across the quilt, was the dog. He looked up, tail thumping and tongue lolling in response.

He clicked his tongue. “Luka, this is where you’ve been. C’mon, get off. You’re not supposed to be on the bed.” Sera shoved the dog off before taking the quilt and shaking it out. “I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Luka, hmm?” She turned her head a faction, but it was mostly to call over the dog. Luka sat down by the window and placed his head in her lap. “No, I like dogs. I think. I don’t really remember.”

Sera hesitated, clutching the quilt to his chest. “Er--”

“What’s your name? I never got the chance to ask you. You were still asleep when I woke up.” Her profile was backlit by the thin light. She looked far more solemn than Tallah ever did when he caught her looking out the window like that.

And in that moment, he realized this is what the Goddess should look like.

He must have taken too long to answer, because she turned to look at him and he found himself caught in her eyes. He jerked back to reality and spun in a slightly confused circle before moving toward the bureau. His hands trembled as he stowed the quilt away in the bottom drawer. “I’m sorry, Lady-- what did you say?”

“Arika.”

Sera lifted his head far quicker than he should have, and smacked it against the corner of the bedside table. “Ow, fuck -- I mean, Goddess -- I mean. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swear in front of you.”

To his surprise, she snorted in amusement. “Do you need help over there?”

“Help? No, Goddess, you don’t have to help. I’m okay. I just--” He kept every object within head-smacking distance in sight as he pushed himself to his feet. “Who is Arika?”

She pointed to herself. “That’s my name.”

“Your... name?” Chan didn’t warn him about this.

Her lips pushed out in frustration and she rolled her eyes. She raked her hand back through her hair, shoving her bangs off her forehead. “The dog can have a name but I can’t?”

Sera stopped himself before he could blurt the first thing that came to his mind. Because, if he thought about it, there was no reason why the Goddess shouldn’t have a name. The historians gave her a name when they documented her blessings and the people she spoke to.

But it had always been the name of the girl she used to be. She would have been called Tallah in the records, named for the girl from Wellfox who became the host.

That was the pattern: A girl took ill and passed away. Then, miraculously, she woke up and proclaimed herself the Goddess. Finally, the church took her into their arms and she left the remains of her old life behind.

Sera found himself staring at the girl across the room, confused. She appeared two years after Tallah died, and had not once proclaimed herself as a deity made flesh.

She tilted her head to the side, waiting for an explanation that he didn’t have the strength to give. Luka, however, took it as an invitation to attempt to jump up into her lap.

With a grunt that turned into a laugh of surprise, she shifted to accommodate the sudden presence of dog.

“Goddess, sorry!” Sera started to round the edge of the bed, but she pinned him with a sharp look.

“I think I can manage a dog in my lap, thank you.”

He paused, unsure of what to do with his hands. “That...” He swallowed and mentally sorted his answer before forcing the words out. “I was swearing again. Not addressing you.”

It took a second, but she dropped her gaze and concentrated on Luka, flopping his ears around with her hands. “You know, you wouldn’t have this problem if you just called me Arika.”

“I also wouldn’t have this problem if I didn’t swear so much.”

This at least earned the crack of a smile. “That, too.”

He crossed the remaining few steps to the rocking chair and picked up the mug he had left behind. “Are you hungry? Chan is out for the day and I am tasked with making sure you’re comfortable. You... are a guest here after all.”

“Hm, you still haven’t told me your name.”

“I--Oh. Sorry. I’m Sera.”

She leaned forward, across the distance between them, and held out her hand. He studied it for a beat, then slowly returned the gesture. Her grip was firm and brief, and he noticed a smattering of faint scars on the back of her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. And yes, breakfast sounds lovely.”

Sera glanced out the window, then back at her. “Would you like to eat outside, Arika?”

This cheered her up considerably. When she smiled, the darkness that clung to her expression was completely erased. “I would like that very much.”