Diverged Roads: Road Less Traveled

[Breda Dreaughan]

There was an opening on the floor. Of course there was, it had always been there. But now it was visible, and an irresistible force was pulling Breda towards it.

The cavern was tiny, alive with rhythmic, pulsing movement, and the pressure around her was unbearable. She was pushed down to the long, narrow tube. And red water rushed to meet her.

She was underwater again, but this time the water was flowing away. Within seconds, she was on all fours on the bank, coughing her lungs out, as the water receded.

The green-eyed, leather-clad man from the carriage was standing nearby.

"Where are the others," Breda asked, as soon as she had gotten most of her breath back.

The being's face was still covered, but she couldn't escape the impression it was smiling. "They are having their own experience. They will be here once they have learned what they must learn."

Breda sat on her knees. Her clothes were soaking wet, adding to the general feeling of heaviness and feebleness. She had no intention of attempting to struggle to her feet with the creature watching.

"Why was I the first one out?"

The green-eye shrugged. "Perhaps you had the shortest lesson." Somehow, the tone of its melodic voice made it obvious that if that was the case, it was not because Breda did not need more education.

She had a flashing memory of the lifeless child on the water-woman's arms, and Tanobi being drowned by the rising waves.

"Will all of them be here?"

The creature did not reply.

[Saruna]

At first, it was just a hand. A real, dry hand that gripped her back. There was a human warmth in that single motion. Mothers and children held hands. Lovers held hands. Givers and receivers of help held hands. Sometimes. But the unknown fingers tightened before the warmth could penetrate the chill that had gone and returned with Derin's disappearance. Her bones creaked. The pain began with an ache, but soon shot up her arm, traveling with quick, sharp spikes. They splintered, deep in her body, and ran the gamut in crashing waves. It hurt. It hurt. Saruna tried to let go, but she could not. She could feel the pain in her, settling deep in a space there was no words for.

The world fractured, again. Existence split, again. For the second time that day, Saruna felt herself ripped from the very fabric of existence, her senses shrieking out innumerable readings of the world around her until finally it became too much to bear.

She might have drowned. So quickly had she gone and gone again that she did not recognize the difference between the other water and the here water, and whether or not it was really water or just some other sensation -- but before she knew it the pain that had manifested in her hand and spread on the many legs of ants through her nervous system was locked away deep, and the new one of inhaled water was making her cough and choke. It was pain. It was all pain. Yet the amber-eyed had almost wrenched her arm from her socket -- those old bones, creaking and complaining as always -- as it yanked her from the river and back onto the shore. So she wasn't a fish. The thought was so unlike her that for a moment Saruna giggled despite her wracking coughs, though Changers knew it likely sounded something awful. Everything hurt.

Saruna opened her eyes and found that they hurt too, stinging from contact with the river water. How many days ago was it that she had struggled so desperately to pull water from the well? Now she suddenly found herself laden with too much, and quite certain she could spend a whole week without looking at another drop. Foolishness, certainly, foolishness --

"Where is the last?"

Saruna could not tell which of them had spoken, but she froze. Both body and mind went as still as she could make them (not saying much, not in particular). The rabbit, pausing in the midst of predators. But . . . but she could not see them as predators. They were strange, and they had terrifying aspects to them but. . . a sense of warmth touched her mind as she squinted up at the strangers, at -- planes, at Breda. She tried to speak the other woman's name, but all that came out was a gasping croak of sound.

"It is too soon for him," another replied. "Much too soon."

"It is no matter. We can welcome two to our family now."

Saruna felt their attention turn like rays of sunlight onto herself and Breda. She was aware of it in a way similar and dissimilar to her attunement to her husband, her children, her parents. She wanted to be afraid, she did, but it simply wasn't there. It was almost as if something was blocking out the emotion.

Though her eyes found Breda, she could not form the words, the sentiment, to say anything. She stared.

[Breda Dreaughan]

They pulled Saruna out of the water. She did not sound good, but at least she was talking.

What had they promised the human? The same? She was frailer than Breda. Could these beings restore youth?

Saruna was staring at her, and Breda was staring back. There was so much to say, and at the same time there were no words. What had Saruna promised them? What exactly did I promise them?

The creatures were staring as well. What had the other one just said? Welcome to our family. That was a bit too intimate for her liking. And in Saruna's eyes, there was calmness that Breda herself could not feel.

Rivos had told her not to trust anyone. Rivos had also said that they would keep an eye on her. I suppose that's a bit tricky right now. And I don't even know who's on whose side anymore. There are too many sides.

"You should get up now," the amber-eye said in a conversational tone.

[Saruna]

Saruna was not capable of rising on her own, and so one of them assisted her. She was tired, but as she stood she realized that she no longer hurt. It wasn't just her hip. Getting old meant that things no longer healed the same, that the ache in the morning, the joint that popped or cracked regularly, those things didn't just go away anymore. They ached. They ached and twisted and even when they didn't hurt, the pain was always present. Getting old meant some level of pain.

Except it didn't hurt. Oh, Saruna could still feel the weight of her age settled around her like a cloak, but the pain itself felt cushioned away from her. As if it had arrived at a temporary cease-fire, but it was still waiting to ambush her later. Saruna did not care for that feeling, not in the slightest. Not a minute ago she'd been thinking about how much everything hurt, and now, nothing.

"I want to go home, please," she finally managed to choke out. She was safe on her feet, edging down the path they had originally walked down, back towards the coach. The three tall people were crowding, just a little. They moved like watchful dogs with a herd to protect -- except the 'herd' was her and Breda.

Saruna was serene, that was true, and she felt as if there was no danger, that was also true, but her sense of hospitality and her status as a guest had been badly wrenched. She did not feel any fear. All the same, there was only so much an old mind could take.

"Breda, are you okay?" Saruna's voice was strained.

The amber-eyed and blue-eyed exchanged a glance.

"I know you do," the red-haired said with a sad smile, "but I'm afraid for your safety you'll need to stay in Marn for a little while, in a safe space."

[Breda Dreaughan]

For a moment Breda considered refusing the red-haired's help to get up, but trying on her own and failing would have been even more embarrassing. So the creature grasped her from the armpits and seemingly effortlessly lifter her on her feet. Much to her relief, she managed not to stumble, and she inched towards Saruna.

"I'm fine," she replied to the other woman, looking aside. It had occurred to her that at some point she would have to explain to someone what had happened, and already it seemed to make no sense. What if Saruna had been through something completely different? Something that did make sense? What would she think of her?

And then the redhead told them that they couldn't go home. She bristled.

"Isn't this quite enough? I have people expecting me. I can't just not show up!"

She was supposed to be back at the smithy by the evening. She knew Vondan would be worried rather than angry, but that was undesirable enough. "This has been a bloody abduction all along. Take us home!"

[Saruna]

Saruna went still.

"You know better than this," the redhaired's voice was quiet, chiding. "There will be time for explanations to those who are dear to you. You are not a child, Breda Dreaughan. You're both now one of us. Safety comes first."

Saruna looked away, hugging herself. She didn't speak, not even when the blue-eyed looked at her. She would not speak, no matter what her heart told her.

"Do you understand, Breda Dreaughan?"

[Breda Dreaughan]

But "there will be time" is not enough. They are expecting me. It will not be safe it they start looking for me.

She glared at the redhead. "Oh, so now my understanding matters? That'll be the first time. Do what you will. It's not like I have had any way to change your actions."

She glanced quickly at Saruna. They've broken her. Whatever they promised her, it has broken her. She looked down. They've broken you. That's why you feel so angry.

[Saruna]

"You do yourself no service," the red-haired commented, void of emotion, as they moved back to the carriage.

Saruna balked when the amber-eyed tried to help her in. "Wait," she said, looking back, voice weak, "where's Tanobi?"

The red-haired smiled. It was a sad smile.

She knew even as she spoke that he would not be coming. Even so, she couldn't help the question; it was testament to who she was, who she had been. She didn't look at Breda. Saruna had seen the look the other woman had given her, even though it had been a quick look her stomach had squeezed to see it. She had wanted Breda to trust her. She had wanted Breda to rely upon her. She had never been that sort of person, and now more than ever the circumstances were confusing. Even at her age, even with children and her husband behind her. This far in life, she was supposed to have the answers, be reliable, be something.

The sense of peace enveloped her worries. She didn't know what it meant.

They settled into the carriage with the amber-eyed and the blue-eyed. Saruna reached for Breda's hand, intending to hold it. "One thing at a time," she said.

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda clutched Saruna's hand like she would a life buoy. She, too, had known Tanobi would not come back. She had not even known Tanobi, but he had looked after her. Her, and everyone else. And now he was gone without a reason or an explanation.

Why are we here if he is not?

The carriage was moving again, so smoothly it was impossible to tell how fast, almost impossible to tell it was moving at all. The amber-eyed and the blue-eyed sat opposite the two women, looking annoyingly comfortable and at ease with themselves. More questions bubbled in Breda's mind, but she bit her lip. She wanted them annoyed rather than so bloody content, but Tanobi's absence made it clear how dangerous they could be.

One thing at a time. Rule one of survival.


Continued here.