Chapter 25 The Expense Grows
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The demand for my life to sustain him grows bit by bit with each breath he takes and with each beat of his heart. The pain of cutting pieces from my heart, the sting of the cold, the gnawing hunger in my belly—none of that hurts anymore. I am heavy and numb. Like a stone. Is this what he felt when the paralysis started creeping up his legs and arms? How strange it is to go from hurting so dearly to...nothing.
I cannot decide what would be better now. To never experience numbness so as to feel the pleasure of life, but also be vulnerable to pain. Or to be completely numbed never to feel pleasure again, but also never to feel pain again. Both are equally tempting, yet equally frightening.
The winter howls with her usual fury, whipping up snow and beating on Eric's coat, but I don't feel her blows. I hear her slapping me. I am vaguely aware of the jolts that travel down my body from the force of her blows, but I don't feel them.
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My body, my head, my eyes...everything feels so heavy. I would give almost anything to close my eyes and sleep, but if I do so, I will not be able to sustain Eric anymore. I must focus on the tie between my heart and his. To allow myself to fall asleep will be worse than that slip from reality that I had experienced earlier.
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The howling snowstorm fades. Blackness surrounds me. I rise and fall steadily on...something. The sound of water gently laps against wood. I sit up and look about me. It's a dark night, but white light dances on black waters, the light's source unseen. Wood creaks beneath me. I look around me. I'm in a boat adrift in the middle of a black sea, her waters freezing yet calm. I'm saved only by this small fisher's vessel. I run my fingers along the floor of the boat, passing over the bumps of the beams. The wood is warm to touch and moving...as if this boat is breathing.
Something moves in my periphery. I turn my head to see what is moving. There, far out in the sea, is the silhouette of a man clinging to driftwood. He does not move except for the gentle waves bobbing him up and down on his life saving driftwood. I squint my eyes, trying to better see who this strange castaway is. I want to call out and see if he will respond, but something tells me to stay quiet. To cry out now would bring doom my way.
Something thumps under my boat—like the slap of fins against the bottom. A large black shadow races out from under my boat, heading in the direction of the man. My heart beats harder and my breathing quickens. No, that black shadow is heading straight for the man!
"HEY!" I scream and wave my arms about. "IT'S COMING!" I spring to my feet, the sudden motion rocking my boat and causing me to stumble about. "GET OUT OF HERE! IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING!"
The black shadow suddenly dives deep into the black waters, disappearing. I fall silent and slowly sink to my knees, never taking my eyes from the castaway. He slowly grows larger on the bobbing waves. These waters are bringing him closer. Why? As the man draws closer, I reach out for him. I want to help this poor soul if I can. There is plenty of room in this living, breathing boat. The man drifts closer to my outstretched fingers. The light dancing on the sea falls on his face.
"Eric!?" I gasp. How did he end up out here!? I lunge half-over the boat's edge, the boat's hard edge cutting into my pelvis. If I really cared for him, I would dive into the freezing waters to fish him out. If I truly cared, I would, but it's not sensible for me to jump in and freeze myself to death, too.
As soon as he drifts close enough, I grab a handful of his shirt. I go to pull him up, but something moves beyond Eric, drawing my eyes past him. Clinging to the driftwood beside him is the dark shadow of another man, this man far smaller and slimmer. The dark figure gasps in an agonal breath, startling me. A womanly whimper leaves the shadow with his exhale. No, her exhale. She. I lean in closer to see the woman completely cloaked in darkness. The shadow of the woman's head slowly turns to look up at me. Her unseen eyes burn into me and torment my heart. She whimpers with great pain, her breathing ragged. She shifts again, lifting her arm to me.
"Here!" I reach out my other hand to the woman. "Let me help!"
The woman wraps her hard, chilled fingers about my hand and tightens her grip. My brows furrow as I feel the texture of her hand. It's too hard, too cold, too...bony. No. No, this hand has been stripped of its meat to the bone! Terror grips me. I scream and rip my hand from the woman's. The water erupts, splashing me with an icy wave! Eric's shirt is torn from my grasp! That same black shadow from earlier pulls Eric down beneath the choppy waters in its jaws!
I cry aloud, the waters gone, the boat gone, the black demon that snatched Eric from me gone! Eric's heart is still in my clutches, but it's beating fast and erratically again, on the brink of failing him! I retie his heart to mine and cut off a few pieces of my life to feed him. He gasps in a deep, agonal breath...I wait in silence, steadily feeding him larger and larger portions of my life. Four of my breaths for his every breath, six of my heartbeats now for his every heartbeat. His body gasps in another desperate, ragged breath and lets it go too quickly. Another breath fills his chest, raising me up. His chest sinks and rises beneath me. Sinks and rises. Sinks and rises.
Now his breathing is somewhat normal. His heart begins to calm for the nourishing air it receives. Tears burn my eyes. I had fallen asleep! How could I have done that!? That nearly cost Eric his life! How could I have let myself fall asleep!? I cannot fall asleep again. Not until we reach Vilgard.
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When that black demon had burst out of the water and dragged Eric under, that was actually his soul starting to leave his body. It must have been. What woke me up in time? Was it Sara? Divine intervention? A stroke of good fortune? The sheer fright of witnessing such an event? Or just my own body startling awake? Startling awake...yes, that seems the most likely.
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The winter wind falls silent, but I keep myself awake. Anything I can do to keep myself awake, I do it. I count how many times I grind my teeth. I bite hard into my hand, drawing forth the chilled, iron tang of blood. I count my heartbeats and Eric's. My heart has beaten thirty-one thousand, two hundred and eighteen times this night while Eric's has beaten seventeen thousand, six hundred and forty-two times. My heart beats almost twice as fast as his. How can one heart beat so differently from another?
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Slowly, the night starts to recede to the grey light of day. As soon as first light approaches, I carefully pull back Eric's coat and scan the world about me. It is an endless white sea littered with those hideous skeletal trees, massive lumps and hills of snow drifts gathered here and there like large waves of the sea frozen solid. To my left is the deep crevasse of the valley. I follow the fracture in the snowy land with my eyes. That is my path to Vilgard.
There's a nagging pull that drags my eyes to Eric. Though still comatose and numbed by the poison, great pain contorts his face. Guilt tightens around my bleeding heart. Am I only prolonging his suffering?—No, no I cannot think this way! I wasted too much time deliberating yesterday about the right thing to do. Eric does not have time for my hesitation.
The demand to sustain him has grown. Instead of a year to keep him breathing for one day, the price has grown to a year and forty-two days of my life. Pain shoots through my heart while my eyes burn. The price is only going to continue to grow as the death brought about by the poison spreads through him. Damn it! There is no time for tears. I grit my teeth and cut exactly a year and forty-two days from my heart with three slices. If cutting my heart hurts me or not, I cannot tell, as the only pain I feel is that brought about by my guilt and grief. I force my year and forty-two days out of my heart, down the tie connecting us both, and into Eric's heart. He gasps in a sudden, raspy breath. My life sinks into his heart like raindrops into desert sands.
I carefully, gently set his beating heart back in the warm depths of his chest and withdraw my fingers from it, severing the tie between his heart and mine. My fingers start trembling. The trembling moves up my hand, through my arm, and spreads throughout the rest of me. I collapse onto him, a cry escaping me. I blink a few times, seeing the vast white sea which surrounds us. I barely feel the chilled leather of his vest pressing against the side of my face. I try dragging my numb fingers across his chest, but I have no strength to move my arm. This...this is the second time now that giving a portion of my life to another has left me so drained that I can barely move. At least I pray that is what it is and not somehow a transfer of Eric's paralysis to me. God, every moment I waste is another moment gone for him! But I cannot move. I...I have no choice but to rest. My heart aches terribly and resists the thought of giving in now...but if Eric has any chance of reaching Vilgard, it will be by my strength alone, as pathetic as it is. The only way to reclaim even a portion of my pathetic strength is to rest. I have no choice this time.
I let go of my breath as a small white cloud and surrender. The weight of my back sinks on me. Eric breathes strong and steady beneath me, raising me upon his chest and allowing me to sink closer to his heart. His heart beats slow, steady and strong, a soothing sound and a gentle rapping against my ear. I must keep my eyes open...but I don't have the strength even for that. Before I can fend it off, darkness closes in around me.
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My eyes fly open. My heart pounds in my ears. I gasp in a sudden, desperate breath, everything rushing back to me. Eric! Vilgard! I must get him there! I roll off of Eric's solid body and land on my back on the rockhard snow. I dare a glance at Eric, panic waiting to spring its trap on me should I see what I loathe to see. There he lies on the crude sled, his face still twisted with pain, but I see the white clouds billowing out of his nostrils with the fall of his chest. He draws in a deep breath, lifting his chest. The sound of breath rushing into him soothes my panic for now.
I curl my fingers into the snow, cracking through its frozen layer and crunching the snow in my fists. I have my strength back! I scramble over to Eric and pull his coat back over him, tucking it securely about him.
"I'll get you to Vilgard," I tell him. Whether he hears me or not, I'm not sure. How I want to touch his cheek, to feel his warmth, but I resist. I grab the handholds of the sled on either side of his head and drag my numb leg up to my chest. I must ignore the heavy, stone-like feeling that has taken over my feet. I push off my thigh, pushing the sled and Eric onward along the top of the valley. Pain spasms through my right shoulder. A harsh reminder of how injured I am. That does not matter now. I pray I am heading the right way to Vilgard. I pray. God, I also pray that I did not sleep half of this precious day away. Day eighteen. I dare a glance up at the sky as I continue pushing Eric along. Damn it, I cannot tell what time of day it is! If only I could see the sun instead of those damn eternal clouds, then I would know. But I cannot know.
I steel myself and look ahead at the path. So long as I keep the valley to my left and move as fast as possible, we'll reach Vilgard...Will the healer there have the herbs he needs to save Eric? How will he administer the herbs to Eric if Eric is trapped in sleep? Hell, how will I even know who the healer is!? How will I convince him to treat Eric without any form of payment!? I doubt our trout that we caught will be sufficient. Will I even be allowed into Vilgard!? God only knows how strict the guards there are.
I've slowed down! I push myself harder and move Eric along faster, resuming the quick pace that I had started out with. Damn it, I cannot allow myself to succumb to all these worries! One thing at a time, Snow. One thing at a time. Just get him there. That is all you need to focus on right now. Nevermind anything and everything else. Just keep Eric breathing and get him to Vilgard.
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Night comes quickly. Much quicker than usual. The revelation hits me like a strong blow to my chest. I slept most of this day away. My heart sinks with despair while the rage wells up, flowing into every vein and filling every muscle with too much tension. An angry cry forces its way out of my throat, ringing loud in the dimming world. I push the sled along, fueled by the trapped tension in my body, moving quicker than I have yet with this sled. How I want to keep moving throughout this coming night, but Tabor's nights are cruel. They steal every bit of light they can, even the dimmest glow that comes from the snow.
Damn me! Damn me for sleeping too long! I am weak, but am I so weak that I cannot even stay awake when I must!? Am I so weak that I cannot save the man who has been saving me every moment since I escaped my imprisonment? Who is saving me even now in his comatose state as he still keeps Maacthis from my heart. Failing to save him...I hoped to save him...I hoped...did I hope in the impossible?
I hate false hope. I hate it more than anyone and anything. There was a point in my imprisonment that I prided myself of not being so gullible anymore, of being able to see reality from sweet falsehoods. I once believed that Hammond and his men would ban together with Duke Tobias and his men and would storm the prison. More united than both houses have ever been, they would free me on an unsuspecting day. I kept dreaming of the day that Hammond and Tobias would remove Ravenna and Finn far from this land and restore Tabor to not just her former glory, but to a better, more unified glory. It seemed like the only future that could possibly happen. How could life be any crueler? Hell, the dream seemed so likely to happen that I thought to call myself a prophet. Such a beautiful dream it was, but with each day that passed by without hearing their battle cries nor the clash of their swords against the enemy...with every moment that passed away, my fate became more apparent. Duke Hammond and Duke Tobias were never going to come with all their men and might. They would never restore Tabor. I would never taste freedom again. Only death would set me free. That...that is the truth now as much as it was the day I finally realized it. Even though my cell is far behind me, I am still a prisoner in it. Escaping my cell, my path crossing with Eric's—nothing more than a cruel jest. Oh, now I have no doubt anymore that meeting Sara and Greta and my path crossing with Eric's was all orchestrated by some higher power. But I know it was not our Maker who made all this happened.
Maacthis despised Ravenna that fateful night she summoned him out of his golden prison. Whether it was Maacthis or another who put Sara in the cell across from mine at the moment I was about to end it all, who put all the right pieces in place to facilitate my escape, it matters not. The timing of Greta's imprisonment, the fact that Ravenna failed to steal all of Greta's life from her—evidence that she is losing her power—power that was given to her by Maacthis. Perhaps this waning of Ravenna's power is what gave her cause to seek my heart? Perhaps Maacthis convinced her that consuming my heart will restore her power? When the truth is that Maacthis is slowly taking his power back in spite of whatever deal he struck with her only God knows how long ago. The timing of everything with Sara and Greta and Eric and Eliza—yes, there is a pattern. There's a plan that's playing out right now, unfolding exactly as the planner had hoped. Maacthis wants freedom. Perhaps my escape is a cover up for his escape. If Ravenna is too busy pursuing me, she will not notice Maacthis is gone until it is too late.
All those that got dragged into this whole plot, though. Sara, Greta, Eric, Geoffrey, hell, even me—we're all pawns. Nothing more. Easily tossed away. Easily replaceable if need be. Whether Eric was supposed to bring me back to Ravenna or betray her and aid me, I'm not certain which way Maacthis was hoping it would play out, though I'm fairly certain he wants me to be on the run for as long as possible to distract Ravenna and keep her watchful eye off him while he picks the locks of his chains.
Eric could live or die. It makes no difference to Maacthis...or perhaps he needs Eric to die. Eric has the power to push Maacthis away from me. I don't see how that would help Maacthis. If anything, I'd imagine it'd only hinder him. So, it would only make sense that he wants Eric dead. Eventually, my death will serve his purpose, too.
I clench my jaw so tightly, containing another angry scream in a growl. To think that I am playing right into the hands of my enemy, that I am failing in every way that he hoped I would fail! A harsh scream escapes me, but I cut it short. My heart falls so far down that it will never rise to its former height again. My enemy knows me better than I know myself. He knows my every weakness. He knows that I have no strengths.
The night steals away the last of my sight, forcing me to stop where I am. I can't see anything, not the sled nor Eric nor even my hands. All I feel is the cold burning my fingers to the bone with icy flames. All I hear is the faint whistle of the wind. All my anger, every bit of tension in me, leaves me with one exhale. I breathe in the frigid air, torturing my raw, dry throat. I skim my frozen fingertips across Eric's cheek. At least I believe that's his cheek. I cannot tell with no feeling in my fingers and the inky blackness which surrounds us. I skim my fingers further down until I reach what I think is his chest, and I rest my hand fully on him. His chest slowly swells with his breath, raising my hand up. Steadily, my hand sinks back down. I sense his heart and the life in it. If the poison does not act suddenly in the next moment or so, he will make it through half this night without needing more of my life.
He's still alive, but I also sense the death that is spreading through him. It's shortening his life by the years with each heartbeat that pushes the poison throughout his body. The longer he goes without the herbs to neutralize the poison, the more his life is being shortened...the more it becomes apparent that I am fighting a losing battle. Just as Eric has taken up a war with Maacthis that he cannot possibly win, so have I taken up this battle to save him that I am too weak to fight...Here I am again, back to last morn where I was not sure whether I am only prolonging his suffering and denying him his rightful reunion with Sara and everyone else who he loves. A sudden pang enters my heart. There is no love in his heart for me. How can there be!? He has known me for only a little over two weeks—I grit my teeth. Damn it, love does not matter! I am no more mature than a child plucking the petals from a flower.
I do my best to ignore my inane heartache and focus on the comatose man lying here before me. I had convinced myself last morn that I'll be damned if I don't try to my last breath to save this man...but am I further damning myself by prolonging his suffering? My eyes burn with unbidden tears. A terrible guilt covers my heart like soil tossed on a corpse's grave. I cannot discern whether this guilt is for considering letting death claim Eric or if I finally realize that I am doing the wrong thing by keeping him alive. I...I cannot tell. God, I wish someone would tell me!
A deeper cold comes with the wind. My teeth chatter beyond my control. My body shivers violently without ceasing. The tears start down my cheeks. I shuffle along the snow and pull Eric's coat back. By feeling alone, I climb onto the living boat that is Eric and pull his coat over both our heads, failing to take my hand from his heart. I draw my knees to my chest, curling up more out of instinct than thought for warmth. My hand resting on Eric's heart shakes beyond my control. If I just pull my hand away and close my eyes...if I just do these two things...Greta. I do not see whether her living or dying would be of any further consequence to Maacthis' plan of escape. Hell, am I making up some tale about Maacthis planning this grand escape!? For all I know, it could be some other delvir who is making all these things happen just to have a good laugh.
I don't know anymore. Whether I'm doing right or wrong, whether I am carrying out evil's plan or good's plan, I do not know. Though Eric dying is becoming truer with every passing moment...just as the truth that death will be my only release from imprisonment became truer with every passing moment before I came to realize it.
A long yawn pries open my aching jaw. Exhaustion fills my body with large rocks. I keep my hand on his heart, watching the life dwindling from him closely. I...I have some time to decide if I should cut more life from my heart…or if I should just pull my hand away.
Eric believes death is unnatural, a consequence of man sinning against our Maker, but there is no denying that our bodies eventually fail us. Our hearts cannot beat forever. Our lungs grow weary of drawing breath. Say death is unnatural. Say that Eric is right about that. Then how come man is so full of sin? Is sin not a part of our nature, too? It certainly is a part of mine. It's even a part of Eric! Therefore, if sin is natural, then the death it incurs also becomes a part of us. The unnatural becomes natural. Or perhaps death was always natural because it was bound to become a part of humanity at the beginning of its sorry existence.
My yawn finally dies, allowing my mouth to close with an uncomfortable click of my jaw beneath my left ear. A world without Eric...a new welling of tears burns my eyes. It's not a world I want to live in. For all I know, Greta is already dead. How could she possibly survive her imprisonment!? The poor girl doesn't have it in her to kill anything. Not even a starved rat! So what is the point to this fight I am putting up? To save Eric...it may very well be false hope. Life is so cruel, so merciless. That is the bitter truth. Why would it ever change?
"I slorry," I try to tell him, but it's so hard to form proper words with my lips, somehow both frozen and on fire. I just...need to say his name. I just need to hear it. "Eri…"
Nothing but the faint whistle of the wind and the gentle rush of breath flowing into and out of his lungs is all I hear. It is so cold, yet so quiet. So easy to drift to sleep. So easy to just surrender and let go. Just...let go.
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I cannot do this anymore. I can't. I must sleep now. I carve three years from my heart and force them down the bridge tethering our hearts. My three years soak into his heart. He gasps in a breath, lifting me upon his chest in a sudden burst of life. His heart quickly finds its rhythm with the proper air. I take my hand from his heart, breaking the bridge between us, and I hug myself. If the poison overcomes my three years of life and kills the last of his heart...then death has come for him. Then Death will come for me. It will be as it should be, but at least I can pass with the solace that I tried to save him.
I can no longer keep my eyes open. They fall shut...I think. The world is already black.