Blurry Memories: Siv and Lukus

Chapter 3

Dust kicked up around him as the horse trotted down onto the dirt path that led off the main road of the city. Brynholt had one main road that led through the city that was neatly paved with cobblestone; every other road leading off was dirt. Paths made by horses and buggy or just walking travelers. Lukus squinted his eyes, pulling up the handkerchief that had previously sat around his neck. If not for the royal symbol on every piece of clothing, or the fine steed he sat atop; a passerby might think him a skurk or thief.

He knew he looked unnoble but didn’t necessarily care. No one was around anyway. He had opted to travel to the lake alone, no guards watching his every move. It felt free. To not have a man younger than him breathing down his neck, marking his every movement, and reporting back to his parents. A man younger than him and yet could tell him whether not what he was doing was safe or reasonable or allowed. It pushed his nerves to a point where he was breathing hard enough to pull the handkerchief down his chin.

He let it fall, let the dust enter his lungs. For just a moment of punishment, for what happened to Siv. Just to let himself feel a fraction of the pain his brother may have. Tortured. It haunted him. And he knew he had no right to feel so hurt, because Siv was the one who would truly be haunted. The rest of his life. He’d seen what people could do. The cruelty in the civilians.

He let his mind wander, idly shifting the reigns for his steed to follow. The path to the lake was not hard; a dirt path past a plain and a few hills, into the forest which surrounds the lake. It was protected gently by mother nature, not only surrounded by forests, but plenty of different terrain. The Stormlyft peaks looked over the northern border of the forest that encircled the lake. A river ran south from the peaks, splitting, the left half converging with the lake, the right half going straight south to the coast. South of the lake was Brynholt, the capitol of Myrkall. To the west there was nothing but forests and plains, all the way to the rocky coastline.

The land was a beautiful mix of hot, slummy summer months and cold, icy winters. As well as everything in between. In fact, the layers of clothes Lukus had to keep on his body to prevent being covered in dust caused him to be sweltering under the wool.

He shifted in place, atop his steed, the grainy bits of dusty that pierced its way through and under his clothes, making him uncomfortable. Before he could settle into a good spot on his horse, it stopped. It just stopped trotting, no movement, going still, as if medusa had come across it. Luke squinted, trying to see anything through the dust, but that cloud that hung over was too thick. And so, he listened to any unusual sounds. Any other than the pitter of birds on trees and deer through the forest.

A twig snapped.

He twisted his head, his body, as much as he could in the saddle, with his feet in the stirrups. He willed his horse to continue, but it refused to move. Not even a little. His heart began to race; he could feel the adrenaline through his veins, but he tried to calm down. Panicking would get him nowhere.

Again, a sound emitted near him, but he couldn’t pinpoint the spot. The trees echoed everything, making it difficult to figure out where a single sound had started. And then he saw it. A woman standing in the forest. She wore a lace white night gown that covered her entire body except for her arms. She stood, watching him. The white of her dress was somehow untouched by the dirt and dust that flitted through and clung heavy on Lukus. There was a soft, worried look on her face. As if she wished for him to turn back. She stood directly in front of him on the path, the dust almost avoiding her in a bubble.

Luke’s breath caught in his chest. His brows lifted, eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. “You.” He spoke. He’d seen her before. Many times. When he was a child, he’d seen her. She had played with him in the forest. Led him to a place he’d never seen again. He didn’t know if he was angry, or afraid, or in just pure shock. Maybe all of it.

She didn’t speak, as she hadn’t when he was young. He’d never heard her speak, other than once. The first time they’d met, when she’d led him to a hidden place, and the girl's mother had yelled at her. The girl spoke back in a language he didn’t understand. That was the only time he had ever heard her voice, other than a giggle or two.

A magic wielder. He’d thought she was some part of his childhood imagination. Something he’d made up and convinced himself was real for years. Until he’d realized he was just a snobby little boy making things up for attention.

But he wasn’t.

And she was here.

In front of him.

The woman took a step, her white chemise flowing behind her in that fantom wind.

She didn’t stop this time. The white gown she wore flitted over rock and half-dried mud and yet stayed pristine. Her green eyes became clear enough to see the whites before she stopped, feet away from him. He made to speak, but his voice failed him. Why now? After all these years, he wanted to say. Why, when I searched the forest until my boots wore through the souls, for you.

She stepped once more, the bubble around her engulfing him, like a breath of fresh air. The smell of the dirt and forest disappeared, and the dust in his eyes faded away. He removed the cover from his mouth and nose, draping it around his neck. “Why?” He managed to get out.

“Siv.” She spoke.

Shocked, Lukus only blinked. He had never heard her say anything in his language. But even more worrisome, he’d never mentioned his brother. In fact, he didn’t have a brother when he last saw her. “How do you know my brother?” He questioned. He didn’t know why he expected an answer, of some kind, but she did not speak again.

She lifted her palm toward him, in invitation, beckoning him to follow, as she stalked off back into the forest. Lukus hesitated; he had to get to the Lake. He had to follow the path. He could not risk getting lost. And yet, he thought back to when he was a child. When he did not know the way and yet, the forest had led him exactly where he needed to be. Lingering for a moment, the woman turned her head back to peer at him, before waving her hand once more, and walking into the brush.

He couldn’t see her now, so he must make a choice. Praying to the gods to forgive him, he grabbed the reigns of his horse, slide the cover back over his mouth and nose, and turned Kash towards the opening in the forest.

As he followed her, he pictured that day in his mind. The day that felt so real. The day was real.

Tall pine trees stood, covered in snow, blocking out the faint winter sun around the forest. The young boy could feel the wet frozen cold as it seeped through his boots. The white powder threatening to fall in through the collar. He wore a large fur coat and a scarf protecting his nose, mouth, and ears. The brown in his eyes was bright, reflecting the bright flurry around him. As snowflakes rose and fell, dancing, encircling his small figure, he grabbed at them, arms flying. He giggled, looking upwards toward the cloud covered sky, and falling back into the snow.

A twig snapped.

Sitting up suddenly, palms freezing beneath the too-thin gloves; he looked around. Curiosity and fear ensnared him. He shook his head, waving his dark hair out of his eyes, and froze. A small arm was peaking around a tree in front of him. Trying to hide but not doing a great job. He stood, dusting the snow from his pants; tufts of the white powder still clinging to him.

Slowly, he walked towards the girl, calling out to her. “Hey, who are you?” The arm shook, pulling farther behind the tree. Getting closer, he could now see the long black hair that fell past the hips of the girl. She was his height, but he could see no facial features, her back towards him. She doesn’t know I can see her.

The snow slowed him, but eventually reaching the tree she stood behind, he reached a tentative hand towards her shoulder. She was shaking vigorously, from fear or the cold. All she had on was a long white dress, cut off at the shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?” He questioned as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

The girl gasped, looking at the boy only for a moment before she ran. He saw a flash of blushed cheeks and green eyes before nothing was in front of him but falling snow. “Wait, no, come back! I won’t hurt you!” He yelled in the direction she had run.

He chased after her, pushing through snow and branches, tripping on covered roots and holes. He could see the wisp of her hair, flying behind her as she glided through the forest. She was running in a zigzag, trying to lose him, but he did not stop.

He lost sight of her then, when she’d turned around a tree and was suddenly gone. But when he looked up, he saw a small path in the snow. He followed the tracks, his own covering the prints that were left behind. Pushing past a few snow-covered branches, ducking to keep his hair from being soaked more than it already was, he gasped. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. No story his parents or tutors had ever told him had mentioned this. He was in such a state of glee that he forgot about the girl for a moment.

A large beautiful frozen lake stood before him, a small wooden cabin to the left, and a well to the right. A deer that had been grazing suddenly stopped, peering at him, sensing a new environment. ‘Woah…” he trailed off, no words coming to mind. Then he saw her standing there.

The girl stood proudly, smiling at him, standing on the porch of the cabin. He waved, pulling down his scarf to smile back at her. She then waved him over, entering the cabin. He’d been told to never enter a place without permission, but this seemed fine, for he had gotten permission.

He followed the girl, walking towards the cabin, watching as a large snowy owl flew and perched on the window facing the lake. He pushed open the door, entering the cabin. A warm fuzzy light was filling the room; the smell of smoke and the crackling of a fire filled his senses. The boy gawked when he noticed the girl sitting on the center of a rug in the sitting room. “Who are you?” He asked.

She only giggled.

“You live here? In the forest?” He started to question her. She only nodded, a smile still on her soft pink face. “Where are your parents? You really should wear a coat and gloves in the snow; you could get sick!” The girl shook her head slowly, giggling again. She sat with her legs crossed, staring at the fire.

“Can you speak, do you understand what I say?” The boy became suspicious now, at the silence that filled the cabin. The girl only waved him over, as if to say "Watch.” He stepped forward, hands in his coat pockets, staring at the girl.

And then a bright light started to flicker, in her palm. He watched as the girl lifted her hand, and a flurry of snow began to encircle it, and then it flew towards him. Startled, he backed away, tripping over himself and falling backwards. His palms planted to the ground, and then his arms raised to block as the snow began to fall on him. He tentatively lowered his defensive stance. Shock shown in his deep chocolate eyes, and a giggle this time came from both children's mouths.

A door opened, the boy turned to see a tall woman. She was wearing the same thing as the girl, and a horrible look on her face. She began speaking in a language the boy didn’t recognize, but he could pin the anger and fear in her tone. She spoke quickly, running to the girl, shaking her arms. The girl quickly stood, yelling back at the woman, pointing at the boy.

The woman let go of the girl’s arms quickly, the girl falling back as she did. She walked towards the boy; he stumbled back, scared of what she may do to him. A soft smile was on her face, and she struggled to make the word, but she spoke. He understood as she said, “home, go.” Her voice was strange and florally, and his eyes widened as he backed out of the cabin.

He didn’t know the way back home, but he ran. He ran and ran and didn’t turn back.

When he returned to the castle in which he lived, he told his parents what he’d seen. But they did not believe them. No magic wielders lived in the forest. Not many were left, but all that were, were royal. “Don’t make up stories, boy. No one wants to hear them.” His father had simply stated after he’d rambled quickly about what had happened.