Chapter 56: 66. In The Dark

Rorri

 

Oh my god…

He really did, didn’t he?

You haven’t seen his eyes, yet…

 

The voices faded in, faded out.

 

What did he do…?

I’m not sure.

 

His body bumped and swayed, lifted up by arms far stronger than his. The pain was unspeakable.

 

The front doors… Did you see them?

I didn’t, no.

…They were incinerated.

 

In the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw the grand entrance.

 

From the fire, I imagine.

 

It was the last image he could remember.

 

Wait, are you suggesting—

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I never taught him anything like that…

 

Cold fingers touched his face.

His eyelids fluttered, flinched.

They lifted them up…

 

Just – just fix him. Please.

Please, just fix him…

I don’t know if I can…

 

His eyes leaked. His lips parted.

The voices faded away.

 

I think it might be best if you…

 

He strained to keep listening, but he was so tired…

 

I hope you understand…

 

*******

 

During the carriage ride home, Rorri drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to discern which sensations were real. The kindest moments came when he believed his blindness was merely part of the nightmare, but such moments were quickly corrected when the wheel hit a bump and the pain jerked him awake. Adar helped him limp into their tiny house, then laid him on his bed, holding him still through his writhing. He shushed him gently through his semiconscious gibbering, reassured him that everything was fine – he was just in shock.

As he prepared to set the broken elf’s bones, Rorri became lucid.

“Adar…”

A tear rolled down the side of his head and soaked into the hair by his ear. He sniffed and grimaced, eyelids flickering.

“Is… is Bilge okay?” he asked through shaky breaths.

Rustling sounds came from the counter, followed by a gentle snap, then footsteps.

“I don’t know,” Adar finally said. “Don’t worry about him, for now. I’m sure he’s alright.”

“But… I need to tell him…” Rorri squeezed his eyes shut, face contorted with pain and despair.

“You know, I’ve been wondering,” Adar cut in, his voice as level and plain as always. “When you use a flushable toilet, how do you keep the water from splashing your bum?”

Rorri paused, but before the “…What?” could leave his lips, his collarbone erupted with white-hot, searing pain as Adar set it in place. Rorri screamed, veins bulging from his neck, then collapsed into unconsciousness once again.

 

*******

 

When Rorri came to, he was propped up in his bed, supported by multiple pillows, comfortably arranged. The sun was rising. Though he could not see, he somehow still knew that faint light peeked in through his window. He couldn’t even feel its warmth. He just knew. He tried to blink his sight into being, but it didn’t work. No matter how many times he tried, or how rapidly, or how tightly, how steady, how erratic, how wet or how dry… It just didn’t work. His eyelids fluttered at the speed of his thoughts—

He couldn’t draw, he couldn’t paint, he couldn’t hail a cab – he couldn’t go to the Plateau – he couldn’t dress himself, couldn’t cook for himself, couldn’t steal for himself, couldn’t walk down the street – he couldn’t find the Weatherman…

He couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t—

He tried to readjust, but his body quickly reminded him of its state, and the pain shot out from his scapula, zipped through his ribs, his collarbone, his shoulder, and down to his wrist and fingertips. He cried out and gritted his teeth, gasping for air. His heart jumped into his throat, his ears, thumping louder and louder until it was all he could hear. It pulsed red with the pain, in the void that existed where the whole world used to be, from where colors and art and all the beautiful things came.

“Stop moving.”

Adar’s voice was calm, cool, and blue – distinctly blue – though Rorri didn’t understand why, or how. He whimpered, but obeyed, sighing sharply through his nose, as though his head was a kettle, and his pain, the steam.

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“It – h-hurts—” he sputtered.

“It probably will for a while,” Adar said.

Seconds ticked by. As his pain and panic settled, memories of the night began to surface.

“Where’s… Bilge…?”

Adar cleared his throat. “I don’t know,” he said. “I plan to go look today.”

“He was with me,” Rorri said, the words tumbling unsteadily from his lips. “On – on the balcony… Someone started shooting at us, and… and he—”

“Try not to get too worked up,” Adar cautioned. “I don’t know if you can tell, but you’re in pretty bad shape. You need to rest.”

“Of course I can t-tell, you ass,” Rorri grunted. “But… he had a knife – I think – it seemed like, like he wanted to fight… fight the bowman, I mean…”

“He would be the type to get into a knife fight with a bowman, wouldn’t he?” Adar mused. “He’d also be the type to win that fight. I can’t think of anyone else I’d bet on with those odds, anyway.”

Rorri sniffed. “He is… he is crazy enough…”

“Did you see the attacker?” Adar interjected suddenly, as if he’d been waiting to ask for some time.

“…No,” Rorri mumbled.

“Do you think it really was the Duén?”

Rorri huffed and turned his head towards the window. Adar’s question hung in the air, begging his attention, gnawing on his ear.

“It’s just… You would know better than I would,” Adar said after a long, uncomfortable pause. “Because, you know…”

“Yes, I know,” Rorri whispered, brow knitted in a deep frown. He sighed, shuddered, and rolled his neck until he faced the ceiling. All the thoughts he hadn’t had time to consider before swelled in his head, forming a picture that didn’t make sense, a puzzle from which dozens of pieces had been stolen or replaced.

“It didn’t seem right,” he finally said.

“How so?”

Rorri sighed. “I thought you said I need to – to rest,” he sputtered, wincing through a flash of pain. The floor creaked as Adar shifted and hummed.

“I did say that. I’m sorry, I’ve just… I’ve got some questions eating at me.”

Rorri heard him scratching something – probably his head, or his neck – and he pictured flecks of silver skin collecting beneath his friend’s fingernails. The thought was frighteningly vivid, like his mind was begging for imagery to accompany the noise.

“For example,” Adar continued, “why did it seem like you would have literally rather died in that alley before being seen by a Royal medic?”

Rorri stayed silent.

“Your tutor said you have a secret—”

“Stop,” Rorri growled. Adar paused.

“It’s just…” Adar sighed. “I mean, you have to admit, it’s a bit extreme—”

“What do you want me to say?” Rorri snapped. “I’m at your mercy, Adar – you can turn me in, if – if that’s what you want.”

“Of course that’s not what I want.”

“Then just shut up and let me rest,” he said in one haggard breath, his eyelids parting ever-so-slightly.

Minutes passed. Rorri stared into the void, into the patterns his mind generated to replace what otherwise should have been, but nothing could erase the absence of what was, the nothingness that swallowed him. And worse, he knew what was coming, what awful, head-splitting agony awaited him once the Snow depleted from his blood.

“Believe it or not, most people don’t like me very much.”

Rorri jumped. He hadn’t realized Adar was still there.

“Can’t imagine why,” he grumbled, turning away from his friend’s voice.

“That’s usually how I feel about it,” Adar said, oblivious to Rorri’s sarcasm. “Sometimes I realize later that, you know, maybe I shouldn’t have said something – like, maybe I said something offensive, even though I didn’t mean to offend anyone. People read so deeply into shallow things, but they only skim over the things with depth.” He sighed. “Apparently, I say things that people aren’t supposed to say, and I don’t lie like people are supposed to. I’ve never understood it. I don’t mean to be different. I just don’t know how to act normal.”

Rorri snorted. “Acting normal is… overrated.”

“Yes,” Adar agreed. “And it’s exhausting. So, I keep to myself. I can’t imagine having to act all the time – how can you live with yourself when you’re not yourself, you know?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, since we’ve all started living together, I feel like…” Adar’s voice quivered briefly, its cool blue color rippling in the void. “This is the first time I’ve been able to live with others, and still feel… accepted, not like you’re trying to change me, or like you’re avoiding me. Well, sometimes I think you’re avoiding me, but I don’t think it’s because of me this time.”

Rorri trembled and clenched his fist. A tear rolled out, caught by a pillow.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” Adar continued. “But, I think I’ve put some things together.”

Rorri swallowed. “Do tell,” he said, his throat dry and gravelly.

“Well, you fled Belethlian because of the War, but you didn’t come here in a group, which tells me that either you fled before everyone else, or you intentionally went in a different direction.”

“A lot of people died,” Rorri said, pushing his face deeper into the pillow.

“Of course, but not everyone.”

Tension filled the air following Adar’s insensitive comment. Rorri shook his head. His mind clouded with the color of guilt, an ugly, swirling, muddy reddish-violet. It wasn’t his color to bear. It must have come from Adar. It seemed he could sense his friend’s emotion, as if it was his own—

“I don’t mean to minimize what happened,” Adar said, interrupting Rorri’s thoughts.

“It’s fine,” Rorri said. “I know.”

“Well,” Adar went on, “if I had to guess, you probably feel guilty about it. What sort of selfish knob abandons their friends like that?”

Rorri stiffened, as if caught in a bold-faced lie.

“To be clear, I don’t think you’re a selfish knob. I think you’ve had to act normal for quite some time, and maybe you’re a bit better at it than me, so you get by. But it is exhausting, isn’t it? You told me a long time ago that you feel tired all the time, which is why you like the Snow so much, right?”

“You got me,” Rorri grumbled. “Good job, detective.”

“All I’m trying to say is, I certainly wouldn’t survive in a war-torn wasteland if I had to pretend to be someone else while I did it. I don’t think you’re evil, Rorri. An idiot, maybe, but not evil. So, I won’t be turning you in. And,” he added, “you don’t have to act in this house. Not around me, at least.”

Rorri kept still, clenching his jaw tight. He wanted to cry, like a child with a scraped knee; he wanted to bawl, like a child with no friends; he wanted to weep, alone, like a child whose father was never there. But instead, he kept silent, tears leaking freely into the pillow.

“Guess I’ll have to learn how to do make-up,” Adar mused. “Oh – does this mean you can tell me about the whole mind-reading magic thing, now?”

Though Rorri heard his friend clearly, he chose to say nothing, pretending, instead, to be asleep. Surely, Adar knew he was awake – after all, he was a terrible liar, and everyone knew it. But he was very good at keeping secrets.

“…Well,” Adar sighed, “I tried.”

After a pause, Adar softly padded away, finally leaving the tired elf alone – just for a while – to rest his wounded soul.

 

To Be Continued

 

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