Blood and Gold: Chapter 32

[jiminee]

In which we reunite with an old friend. 
I have to admit, tears were shed in the writing of this chapter. 
Chapter list | Map


Blame wakes, and he’s shaking.

He’s used to this, the constant shaking, always in his hands and arms making it difficult to live as normally as he was trying to.

Standing up from his uncomfortable bed on the floor, he takes some of the stale food from the shelf by the bed. He eats as he walks, still shaking, to the treehouse’s exit, and descends the hidden ladder. Then he walks through the forest, legs unsteady, towards the river.

At the river he takes his clothes off laboriously, then wades into the cold. He washes himself, not minding the chill. Then he washes his clothes and wrings them out, laying them on a rock in an effort to dry them quickly.

He pulls himself onto the grassy bank again, still shaking. He wonders if that will ever go away, but he isn’t counting on it. He stares at the river and something echoes in his chest cavity. He’s so hollow now; all the memories echo.

When his clothes are dry he puts them back on and walks back to the treehouse. Guude and Bdubs had left. They’d found Blame as he was wandering without aim, and said if he needed a place to sleep, he could have the treehouse. They were going to Mes, they said. Blame had watched them leave, their horses making tracks across the desert that were duly covered up by the ever-shifting sands.

Blame had spent more time on Vechs’ funeral than he’d wanted to admit to himself. Guilt had followed him through the long process of digging a grave in a little glade near the treehouse. It had followed him as he laid Vechs’ body into the depression, and covered it with earth. He’d found a mossy stone and embedded it into the ground at the head of the grave; as close as he could get to a proper gravestone he supposed.

He’d sat cross-legged at the foot of the grave, staring, hollow, for quite some time.

Blame’s hands bring him immense guilt. They seem bloodstained and constantly in fists; all he can see is that first day, when he’d found Vechs again, when he’d nearly beaten him to a pulp from anger. Living in the treehouse, he can’t feel anything but guilt, and he can’t see anything but his hands and the green surrounding him.

He doesn’t want Naziv to find him and yet he does. Staying here would kill him, he thinks, and he’s sure Zisteau is going to hurry the others along to somewhere new, and the thought that they will leave without him fills Blame with anxiety.

Still, they don’t want or need him. He screwed up, many times, and he’s not a part of Naziv anymore and they won’t be looking for him. He knows that’s partially his fault; he’s hiding, spending as much of his time in the treehouse as he can. Still, he thinks they should at least try to say goodbye before moving on. They should at least care to know where Vechs has been buried.

 

Nebris knows he hasn’t much hope in finding Blame but he’s determined to. He doesn’t think he can have gone far; he’s still too weak to cross the desert and doesn’t have a vehicle, and surely he wouldn’t want to leave Vechs’ body here.

Still, doubt creeps in as Nebris heads to the usual spot by the wall, going through the motions of vaulting the wall, avoiding the spikes, dropping to the other side. He rolls up his rope ad is stuffing it in his bag when someone taps him on the shoulder, making him jump.

“Hey there, thief,” someone says. Nebris turns to see someone he recognises.

“You helped me out when I was trapped,” he says.

The other man nods. “I’m Arkas. Nebris is it? I thought you might come by this way.” He looks too young to seem so broken, but Nebris remembers seeing him lose his friend, the other man who had rescued him, and he understands. He nods.

“I wanted to say hi. I saw – well, I saw you lost someone too.” His fingers interlock and pull apart again. “My – my best friend died.”

Nebris understands, and slowly nods. “Same here,” he says. “Or, something like a friend. We were – well, I don’t know.”

“I know,” Arkas says. “Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye. Zisteau said you guys were moving on, and I guess, I wanted to see you before you go.”

“Thanks,” Nebris replies. “And goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Arkas says. “Hey – hey you’re not leaving right away, right? I might see you around.”

“Maybe.” Nebris turns into the trees, away from the man.

 

Blame is surprised to see someone approaching through the trees. It’s Nebris. Hands still shaking, he debates whether or not to go out and show himself. At least it’s not Zisteau, although he doesn’t know what Nebris thinks of him.

Blame takes a deep breath, and descends the ladder. He walks towards Nebris until he sees him. Nebris’ eyes widen, and he walks quicker, until the two men are standing face to face.

 

Blame is thinner than Nebris has ever seen him. He looks awful; eyes sunken and a shadow over his face, his hands are in tight fists.

“Blame,” he says quietly. “You’re still here.”

Blame nods. “And so are you.” His voice is shaky, and almost not there.

“I – we – thought you might have gone to Mes or something.”

 

“I didn’t.” Blame doesn’t explain why he didn’t, for fear of seeming pathetic. That tiny hope that Naziv might still want him, that he would be able to rejoin them and perhaps scrape together some better semblance of living, that would be awful to have to explain.

“What did you do with,” Nebris says, not finishing his sentence. The next one is disconnected, and comes fast. “Blame! Where have you been? Where have you been living?” He stops to breathe. “Are you okay?”

Blame processes his concerns slowly. “I’ve been living in Guude’s old treehouse,” he says. “I’ve been absolutely blyxing awful. You?”

He sees Nebris stop and bite his tongue. “I know how you feel,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I lost Etho.”

“Oh.”

“I came to see if it would be okay to bury him near Vechs.”

Blame can’t breathe. “Right,” he says.

“And…?”

Blame looks at him for a while. He wonders if he looks as bad as Nebris does in grieving; all shadowed eyes and melancholy smile.

“That would be okay. Let me show you where he is.”

 

Nebris follows Blame, hiding his surprise at how easily he is accepting. Blame leads him past the treehouse to a small glade, disconcertingly calm. It is green and surrounds a hollow space that could be a different world. A single stone stands near the centre of the circle of trees, and the fresh earth before it marks what has to be Vechs’s grave.
Some wildflowers are scattered in the grass of the glade, but Nebris can see a small bush behind the headstone, geraniums spilling out in bright drops of red against the green. Grass is already beginning to grow back over the edge of the dirt mound.

Nebris kneels, for reasons he’s not sure why. He feels something in his chest swelling and he puts a hand to his mouth. Tears are stinging in his eyes. His hand is shaking as he pulls it away, and he feels warmth on his shoulder. Twisting his head to look beside him, he seens Blame has kneeled too, is crying too, with one hand on Nebris’ shoulder.

“You want to bury Etho here?”

“Yes,” Nebris says, his voice crackling. “I just… I need to retrieve his body first.”

“Hm?”

Nebris breathes. “He’s still in the palace. He was killed in there and I had – I had no time to get him.”

There’s a pause filled with the gentle rustling of leaves and faraway bird calls.

“I’ll help you get him,” Blame says.

“What?” Nebris says. And then, “No! It’s too dangerous. There are still scorpions there.”

“Scorpions?”

Nebris bites his lip. “It’s a long, strange story. But there are scorpions in there. They’re deadly. They’re what killed Etho.”

“Oh,” Blame says.

“I mean, help would be good. But it’s going to be hard.”

“I’ll still help you,” Blame says, his voice stronger. He stands up, his hand leaving Nebris’ shoulder. “Come on. You need my help.”

Nebris looks at the little grave one more time before standing up. “Thanks, Blame.”

 

Erin hears Zisteau make a sharp noise as he looks up, a pointed gasp that draws her own attention to the door of Kurt’s house.

Nebris is there, and so is Blame.

Erin brings a hand to her mouth at the same time as she stands up, Zisteau mirroring her motion and moving quickly to the door.

“Blame?”

Blame looks terrible and Erin isn’t surprised. She’s never seen his face so thin, his eyes so sunken, and she notes that he’s almost beginning to resemble the skull mask that he used to always wear. His fingers are loosely twined together and are just as bony.

“Hi,” he says.

“Look who I found,” Nebris croaks, attempting a smile.

“Where were you?” Zisteau asks, his voice a little too loud. “I went looking for you! Where…” He trails off as he watches Blame’s face. Erin feels as if she can see every thought in Zisteau’s head as he recalculates his thoughts, going through the events of the last few days and how Blame must have been feeling.

“Sorry,” he says.

Blame shrugs and nods and Erin can’t tell if he’s forgiving Zisteau or brushing it off. He steps past Zisteau and Erin and finally comes inside the house, Nebris following.

“We’re going to have some food, then go back into the palace for Etho,” Nebris explains.

“What? That’s too dangerous!” Zisteau says. “At least wear something to protect from those scorpions.”

“We tried to buy armour,” Nebris says, gesturing to Erin. “Nobody trusts us enough to sell to us, even when we try to be honest.”

“I should have known,” Zisteau replies. “I guess Kurt could buy you something, right?”

Nebris shrugs, looking at Kurt. “I guess. I want to go sooner, though, rather than later. I can just be careful…”

“No,” Erin says. “Don’t be ridiculous! Kurt will get you some armour, then you can go.” Her tone softens. “I know you just want this over with, but it’s best to be safe. We’ve lost too many people already.”

Nebris nods. Erin sees the impact of her words hit him, and he doesn’t say anything. Blame stays silent, standing there like a ghost beside Nebris.

“And have something to eat. You look starved, Blame.”

Comments

[scara]

Blame's still alive, though kinda starving himself through grief.

That glade sounds beautiful.

[(Anonymous)]

KILL EM ALL

also poor poor grieving peoples.

[(Anonymous)]

It's never the deaths themselves that get to you. It's all of the people you lose along with those who die that really hit you. That place sounds beautiful. Hopefully only two bodies will need to rest there. Everyone in this chapter needs a hug. (::)
-Observing Anon

[jiminee]

Indeed. I found this chapter particularly emotional, more so than the actual deaths themselves.

[tdscott8]

Really well written, one of my favorite series to date.

[jiminee]

Woah, thanks dude!!

[tdscott8]

You on outside: Woah, thanks dude!!
You on inside: omg i can not believe that THE scott just complimented my work never in my life have i felt so euphoric i think im going to faint! *swoons*

[jiminee]

Me on inside: What the fuck is up with that Scott guy

[tdscott8]

you right