บท 39: Blue Afternoon
Great. Fantastic, wonderful, amazing, perfect. And a whole lot of other sarcastic adjectives that came to mind, too. If Hana wasn't dead before, she definitely was now. Of all the people she wanted to save her, Nimhr was dead last. She was exhausted and upset beyond belief, but right now, survival was on her mind. How to escape from him, though? Nimhr was both stronger and faster than her. Perhaps she could bite him and hide until he went away? Pitiful. If only she had a staff with her. But then she remembered Nimhr could whoop her dead with a light tap even when she was armed, and she realized she was screwed.
"Get off!" she shrieked, kicking her little heels into his thigh.
Nimhr wasn't fazed.
"Are you stupid? You scream and those people will find you. You come with me if you want to live."
"I think the hell not, sir!" she shouted, looking for a nice, tender finger to chomp. She sank her teeth into his hand.
And Nimhr still wasn't fazed.
He looked at her like a disapproving father with a tantrumming toddler and shook his head, slinging her over his shoulder. He ignored her as she rammed her fists into his back, walking at a leisurely pace.
"What are you doing?" she screamed.
"Kidnapping you," he answered.
"What? You can't just murder me? Now you have to add kidnapping to your rap sheet, too?"
"For like five hours until they are gone. Is for your own good. Now shut up already. You are annoying little girl, like mosquito in ear, blya'."
She didn't believe a word of that. And Nimhr had no right to be annoyed with her. All he had to do was literally… just not kidnap her? He looked around to see if the coast was clear, and seeing no Unforgivables about, covered her eyes with his large hand and broke into a brisk gallop, running deep into the mountain range. He was very athletic, leaping over boulders and traversing rough terrain with little difficulty. The temperature changed and a drop of water plopped on Hana's head. Ah… he must've entered a cave system. Gesmaura was filled with caves, labyrinthine and impossible to navigate.
Yep. Now no one would ever find her body.
After what seemed like hours, Nimhr stopped and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground. Hana made a break for it.
And naturally, she failed. The large man dragged her and tied her up against a stalagmite, binding her arms behind her back. He stuffed a gag in her mouth, and ensuring his handiwork was good quality, nodded to himself and flopped down on a sleeping bag laid nearby, closing his eyes.
Of all the indignities she could suffer! He was just going to do nothing? She honestly felt a bit mad he saw no need to put effort into torturing her. If only she had a conveniently placed knife in her pocket right now, but she wasn't genre-savvy enough for that.
Gods, she messed up.
Hana reflected on all the impulsive decisions that led her up to this point. And she had to admit it. Zagiha was right. She couldn't take care of herself. The world was too big and scary for her, rife with dangers that even Uncle Crowe couldn't handle.
Uncle Crowe…
Was he really gone?
In the end, he protected her. Even though it was her fault he was killed, and if she'd just run away from the mountains like he told her to, they'd both still be fine. Now he was dead, and she was about to be. For all his flaws, he loved her until the end. And it was her brother of all people who permitted his death.
How could she reconcile her feelings with that? Of all her hard work, of all the effort she expended finding him over the years; this was how it all culminated? Perhaps it was fine, then, if Nimhr was to finish what he started.
She choked on the gag as she let loose a peel of sobs, her hot tears streaming down her face.
Nimhr looked up and scowled.
"Devochka, what you cry for? You are fine! I will not hurt you. I let you go soon, we never speak of this again. Chin up!"
The irony of the literal embodiment of sadness telling her to cheer up was not lost on her. Hana ignored him and continued crying.
"Um… ugh… What do? Are you hurt? Thirsty? What?"
Yes, her brother sliced her up with a sword maybe an hour ago, but she'd rather bleed out than give Nimhr the satisfaction of knowing that.
He pulled the gag off and shoved a mug of hot tea in her face. "Drink!" he barked.
"You definitely poisoned that," she choked out between tears.
Nimhr rolled his eyes. "You think Nimhr, who can snap neck of little Anya with one hand, would put poison in drink? Think, girl, think! If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already."
"My name is Hana," she snapped.
"Anya," Nimhr repeated. He crouched over her, and Hana took the golden opportunity…
To swiftly kick him in the balls.
"Yobanaya suka…!" he wheezed, dropping the cup and crumpling to a heap. He let loose a flurry of swears, rolling into a ball of pain.
Hana smirked. Now she felt a little better. If she was going to die, she was going to land at least one hit on him. Actually hurting him brought her immense joy. Coughing, Nimhr crawled away from her and flopped over, moaning and groaning in agony.
"That's what you get!" she snarled through her tears.
Nimhr wheezed a few times, finally straightening himself up. Then he laughed. She wasn't sure what was so funny.
"Ah, there's your fire," he said. "You are crazy. Stupid crazy bitch. Why were you not like this back in graveyard? You kick actual, literal God in nuts. Unbelievable." He couldn't stop laughing. "Okay, you have earned respect of Nimhr."
… What?
That's what she had to do to get him to like her?
Maybe even Gods went senile after thirty thousand years.
But he stopped laughing when he saw the blood seeping through her shirt. "When did this happen?" he asked.
She didn't answer him. She didn't want to dignify Nimhr with a response, not that he cared. Taking precautions to keep his precious jewels out of kicking range, he lifted up her shirt.
Hana shrieked.
"I knew it! You're a pervert!"
"Shut," he said, looking at the cut on her belly. "Lucky you. Only surface deep. Let's see…" He rifled through a bag at the foot of his sleep sack, pulling out some assorted herbs. "You have cost me my tea. Be grateful." He smashed them into a paste with his bare hands and slathered it across the wound, bandaging it up.
Hana winced. "What's wrong with you?" she muttered.
"What?"
"You have magic, right? If your tea is so important to you, why don't you just use a healing spell?"
Nimhr stiffened up and frowned. "… I do what I want," he answered coldly. "Do not be choosing beggar."
"Seriously, what is wrong with you?" She grit her teeth in pain. "The other day you were trying to kill me, and now you're treating my wounds? What's your problem?"
"You rather I kill you?"
"… No, sir." She hung her head.
"I keep trying to tell you," he said. "I will not harm you anymore."
"And why not?"
"You are such annoying pest I want you dead. But! I made deal with Misha." He sat down in front of her, criss-cross applesauce. "I will no longer try to harm you, in exchange for Misha's body."
What.
Hana's cheeks went red and she sputtered in secondhand embarrassment. Oh, Mica. He was a real one. There's no way she'd ever be able to repay him.
"… B-Be gentle with him," she stammered.
"Huh?" said Nimhr. "Him?" All expression melted away from his face, leaving him a blank slate. "… Suka blyat, I have some things to think about," he muttered. "Why would I be gentle with… him? He is just doing me physically difficult favor."
Oh.
He meant… oh. Nevermind.
"Nimhr always upholds end of deal," he said at last. "You do not have to forgive me, nor do I want it, but you have my word. You are safe with me now. Besides, I needed to ask you question."
"A question?" She frowned.
"Da. How should I put it?" He paused for several moments, thinking of how to say what he wanted to say. "No nice way to put it. Back in graveyard, why did you tell Sasha not to use power? I still would have beat him up, but would have been more fair fight. Why did you not put own safety first?"
Oh. Yes, Hana supposed that was a worthy question. And much like how he wasn't sure how to ask it, she wasn't sure how to answer. "… For your friend's sake," she said at last. "I don't know if you actually killed him or not, but I do know how much you cared for him. If his gravestone was broken in the fight, I know you never would've forgiven yourself."
Nimhr sighed. "… You should not have done that for me," he said. "You are right, but it was bad idea. I don't deserve it." He frowned, then finally said: "This cave is my true home."
In the faint, flickering light that was available, Hana looked around the chamber. They were very washed-out and hard to see, but on the walls were rudimentary paintings. They depicted people and extinct animals from a bygone era, of mammoth hunts and handprints from tribe members long dead.
"Your family lived here," she said.
He nodded. "When I became God, they left me behind to go hunt. They said they would come back for me. I waited for them long time, but I realized they either hated me, or had died. So I fell asleep for many year. Thirty thousand year of peace. But I was woken up by strange men with strange clothes speaking strange tongue I did not understand. I was very scared, but as they did not harm me, I went with them. What else would I do in that moment? They took me with them back to University. That is when Genya took me under his wing."
Nimhr's expression softened, remembering happier times. "Genya was anthropology professor. He called me 'wild man.' And he taught me. He taught me of all things that happened while I was asleep. I learned language, and reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Blya' arithmetic. He gave me name. Pyotr. Genya, my highly respected teacher, was closest friend. But I never told him true identity. To him I was just feral human." He sighed. "Then I killed him. Village figured out I was God of Melancholy. They feared me, built me Temple, but just to appease. But they ran me out of town. Now I am alone, and I have nowhere to go. This is only place I belong. I go here when I need time to think."
Hana listened to him, scrutinizing his every word. Nimhr's story didn't make any sense to her. He spoke of his teacher so fondly, so lovingly, it hit her like a slap in the face when he said he killed him. And even if Nimhr said he did it so he might die himself, he sounded like he was happy back then. So why would he do that in the first place? No, it didn't make a lick of sense.
"Nimhr…" she said.
"I don't need your pity," he replied. "But thank you for listening to my story." Nimhr stared into her eyes and sighed. "I see why Sasha adores you," he said after a bit. "I regret hurting you two. I'm glad Misha was there to stop me… well, apologies will never be sufficient to make up for pain I've caused. I just don't want to be here anymore. But you are good person, Anya. You didn't deserve it."
She didn't deserve it?
At his words, Hana sniffled and tears rolled down her face once more. "I'm not a good person," she choked through her tears. "And you shouldn't apologize to me, because we're exactly the same."
"How so?"
"At first I hated you," Hana sobbed. "I couldn't understand how someone could be as selfish as you. But you were just desperate, right? I've been looking for my brother for years," she continued, sputtering. "No one else cared about him but me. After so many wrong turns and false leads, I would've done anything to meet him again. And I did. I manipulated my uncle into helping me find him, and he was killed. He died because of me! The only difference between us is that I'm still here for you to apologize."
Why was she spilling her heart out to Nimhr of all people? They were far from friends, and he didn't even know her last name. But since he was also an awful person, he would be able to understand. Like Nimhr, she was horrible and selfish down to her very core, so he had no room to judge her, not she any to judge him. This was a part of her she could only share with him.
Nimhr watched Hana break down with a taciturn expression. She wasn't sure if he was concerned or found her pathetic, not that it mattered.
After a long time, he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Anya," he said, "I am not correct person for give comfort. It is not in my nature. But… I know how you feel. There are times when people… when people make decisions you do not understand. They hurt you so much. And then it is easiest to blame ourselves for their choice." He broke eye contact with her, curling his fists in his lap. "Ah, suka…" he muttered. "How to say it in Western Gesmauran? Sorry. If you spoke Eskanskaya, I explain better."
Hana assumed he was talking about Silvio, but that didn't make sense. She didn't tell him that her brother was the one who gave the order to shoot Crowe, and if he had just been napping in his cave until now, he was not witness to the event. But he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
She didn't listen to her uncle when he tried to get her to safety, but she wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. Her part in sharing the blame was inexcusable, but in the end it was Silvio who killed him. How could she forgive him for that? How could someone she loved hurt her so much?
And then, was Crowe the source of it all? Did he murder Eigil's parents? Did he steadfastly march toward death as though it would make up for his actions? Hana found herself unable to harbor any resentment toward Eigil. If he had the right guy, she understood his rage.
Rage.
Oh.
So that's what she felt.
She felt rage at herself for her selfishness.
She felt rage at Silvio for taking Eigil's feelings into account over hers and letting Crowe die (and then she cycled back into rage at herself for being selfish again).
And she felt rage at Crowe for what he did to Eigil and setting himself up for his own vengeance execution.
How horrible. How complicated. Hana knew what Nimhr meant. It was far less painful hating yourself when the alternative was hating people you love.
But she didn't have it in her to forgive anyone right now, least of all herself.
"Have you stopped hating yourself yet?" Hana sobbed.
Nimhr shook his head.
"… Did you really kill your teacher?"
Nimhr didn't answer her. He rose to full height and took a knife out of his pocket. Hana cringed. Crap! Did that set him off? But he didn't hurt her. He severed her binds and turned away.
"You're letting me go?" Hana also stood up and wiped her tears away.
"I said I would," Nimhr snapped. "Learn to listen! Blyat!" His face dropped any vulnerable expression it might've worn before, replaced by his usual taciturn look. "Those people with thunder sticks will have moved on by now."
"Thunder sticks?" she echoed. "You mean the guns?"
"Whatever." He took something else out of his pocket, his Message Crystal. "Show me yours."
"Uhh…"
Nimhr sharply yanked it out of her hand and tapped it against hers.
"You're giving me your contact info?"
"Da. Why would I not? You are friend of Nimhr now."
They were friends? Hana wasn't sure if she shared that sentiment, but Nimhr was a man of inscrutable morals and questionable sanity. It was probably a good thing to have someone as crazy as him in her lane, and she preferred being his friend to being his murder victim.
That didn't mean she was on board with forgiving him. Then again, Nimhr made it clear he didn't give a damn about that anyway. But she didn't hate him anymore after talking to him. On the contrary, Nimhr filled a niche that Zagiha and others who walked in the light couldn't. He listened to her at her worst without judgment. There weren't many people who could do that.
A messy relationship, but a refreshingly honest one.
"I am loyal to friend," Nimhr continued. "Whatever Anya wants, you got it. Well…" He frowned. "I still want to die. I will not hurt you or Sasha anymore, but I support False One. That has not changed. All I will do for you is not interfere. That's it. You want to deal with Kaatsche, go ahead, but leave me out. Anything else though is okay. For example, someone bully you? Nimhr will get rid of them, no worries."
"Uhhh…" Hana's eyes bugged out of her head. "That's okay…"
"Come. I take you to… where should I take you? You are obviously not from Tyressa."
Hana didn't feel safe telling him she lived in Caershira, so she kept her mouth shut.
"I guess police station," said Nimhr. "You can tell them what happened on mountain or not, but I will not stay. I do not like police. And if we run into anyone, my name is Pyotr Belyakov. Understand?"
"Y-Yes, sir."
He flung her over his shoulder and covered her eyes once more. Hana knew he wouldn't take any risks giving away his location, but that didn't mean she enjoyed getting tossed around like a doll. At the very least, he could blindfold her and lead her out on her own two feet, but she didn't want to push her luck. She was fortunate enough just leaving the cave alive.
Or he could just teleport her. She wasn't used to it, and it made her lightheaded, but it was better than Nimhr's nauseating ride over large rocks and ravines. Now that she thought of it, she'd never seen him with a staff before. No Sorcerer worth their salt went without their staff, even ones who achieved divine status. Zagiha always carried his, and so did Isaana… and the one time she saw her, Eleora kept hers too. And sure, it was possible Workers could be deified as well, but Nimhr definitely had the Sorcerer's Mark on his hand.
Could it be that he didn't know how to use sorcery? Hana briefly considered asking if people even understood magic thirty thousand years ago, but it seemed to be a sore spot to him.
No, he had to know. Nimhr accurately identified her tracking spell and pinned it back on her, and he recognized when she was about to teleport away back in the graveyard. He was a lot like Mica, who knew much about magic but was unable to use it himself.
Ah, Mica.
Right now he was probably hard at work trying to pin down Silvio's whereabouts, unaware of what transpired during the night. Hana wished she could go back in time and let her previous self know to trust him and leave everything else alone.
But there was no such spell. Time travel violated the Laws of Impossibility.
"Okay. Here is city limits." Nimhr set her down and Hana opened her eyes, squinting. It was a cloudy, horrible day, the sun casting a sickly blue glow over the college town. Maybe classes were in session right now. Hardly anyone was out and about, and the few who were paused to watch the strange pair pass by.
After a while, they came to the University. Nimhr paused, staring up at a window in one of the buildings. He stayed there as though transfixed, but after a few moments he shook his head and continued on, dropping her off at the police station. Nimhr gave her a quick, firm handshake, and turned around, only for Mica to burst out the door a second later.
"M-Mica?" Hana stammered in shock.
Nimhr tensed up, going rigid as a statue.
"What were you doing at the police station?" she asked.
"Oh, the usual," he replied. "Mouthed off to one Sorcerer too many and got thrown in the pillory for a few hours. It's all good, though. I'm out now." Mica raised an eyebrow. "But the real question is why you're here? Didn't Zagiha take you back home?"
"I…"
"Ah, I see." Mica made eye contact with Nimhr, who shrank back as though he didn't outclass the young courier in every way. "If it ain't the gentle Pyotr Belyakov. Good to see you've upheld your end of the deal, at least."
"M-Misha," he stammered.
Mica put his hand out. "Just because we've got a business relationship doesn't mean I wanna make merry with ya. I suggest you be off now."
"Oh. Of course." Nimhr hung his head and slunk off. Whether he was going back to his Temple or the caves, Hana couldn't tell.
Oof. Mica was sweet as pie, but he wasn't one for forgiveness, was he? And now that she was alone with him, she had some explaining to do.
He crossed his arms.
"What happened on the mountain last night, Hana?" he asked coldly. "Y'know I have functioning ears, right? Who did Silvio and his little friends shoot? Was it Herra Crowe?"
"You…" Her jaw dropped.
"I've found out everything I needed to know," said Mica. He took her arm and led her into the police station. "Now you listen up. You'll tell the police and your parents what happened, or I will."
Hana just nodded. She knew it was time to face the consequences. Mica cared far too much about her to shelter her, after all.
--
"Ignatius Crowe? Come on in."
When he came to and his vision righted itself, he found himself in a void. There was nothing around him, not even beneath his feet, except for an opaque curtain in front of him. Crowe straightened himself out and approached it, pulling back the flap and entering the space where the voice beckoned him.
He blinked. This was his office back in Isaana's Temple, Giant Land Slugs and all, except the person sitting at his desk was…
"It's you!" he exclaimed. "I always had a feeling…"
Rirasiru gestured at the seat in front of him and smiled warmly. "Yes. Honestly, I would've been more worried if you didn't. Have a seat?" Rirasiru scanned his surroundings, observing the knickknacks on the walls, the ancient cuckoo clock ticking away. "Time is irrelevant in my realm, you know," he continued. "But my little office always insists on transforming into a place that was important to you during your lifetime."
"My lifetime?" Crowe sighed, and he remembered. "So I didn't make it out?"
Rirasiru shook his head. "We all must go sometime, but I wouldn't say forty-four years is the shortest stretch your soul's ever done on Earth."
"Wait!" Crowe stood back up, alarmed. "What about Hana? Did she live?"
"Don't worry, Crowe. She survived. I shall claim her someday, but your actions have helped her live a little longer. Sit down, please."
"I… Wait, what do you mean by a 'little longer?' Is she destined to die early anyway? Please answer me!"
Rirasiru clicked open a pen and tapped it against a notebook. "Hmm, I wonder?" he said. "Crowe, I know all the suffering in the world. I see infinite possibilities and infinite endings, but the one we get is determined by a combination of free will and dumb luck. Maybe she'll die tomorrow. Maybe she'll live to be a hundred. The one I see most likely to happen, though…" He smiled. "Crowe, is dyin' so bad?"
"Tell me, Rirasiru-sa, did I die in vain?" Crowe wiped away a tear. He had no idea souls could cry.
"That is for you to determine," he answered evenly. "But what I'm here to determine is your karmic debt. Consider this an evaluation of your life. All souls, human or otherwise, come to me at their life's end, and I make my recommendation on the circumstances you shall be born into in your next life."
Crowe hung his head. "Then I suppose I deserve everything I get when I'm reborn, eh?" He grimaced. "It's fine. I accept your divine punishment."
"Easy now, little one," Rirasiru comforted him. "You have done great evil in this life, but it wasn't all your fault." He wrote something down. "It's very dangerouns to hang out with Gods too long. Humans stand no chance against the ways we're able to puppeteer you."
"What's that supposed to mean? I committed all those sins of my own free will!" Crowe shouted.
"It's hard to explain, and you'll just forget what we discussed in the next life anyway." Rirasiru shrugged. "Oh, don't you fret. You're not getting off scot-free. But don't fear. In time, there will be forgiveness. Even if it takes many lifetimes, you will eventually escape the endless cycle of death and rebirth to stay by my side forever." He smiled again and shut his notebook. "Come with me?"
Crowe followed Rirasiru back outside, but where there was nothing before, now the void was replaced by a splendid flower garden. His eyelids grew heavy, and lay down in a patch of daisies.
"This is my garden," said Rirasiru. "It is where all souls come to rest before it's time to send them back out again. I can't save you from the cycle as you are right now, but it's the least I can do to alleviate your suffering. This is a place without judgment, where there is no need for sadness or discomfort. And when your next life is over, we'll see each other here again. Someday, you'll be able to stay. Everyone will be safe here… and the Outer One won't be able to hurt anyone ever again."
Crowe wanted to ask him to clarify, but he felt too sleepy, like he hadn't rested his eyes in years.
"It's okay." Rirasiru patted his shoulder. "Return to blissful nothingness, even if it's just for a little while. Don't worry about anything. Don't despair. Don't fear. I'll watch over Hana for you, and Silvio, too."
As Crowe slipped away, the God picked a flower and placed it in his hair. Rirasiru liked this part of the job. He just wished he didn't have to send them out again. He beamed and opened up a portal, returning to the material world.
Of course he'd watch over those children. They were near and dear to his heart. He liked Silvio better, but Hana was more valuable.
Rirasiru was a miracle worker. He could grant wishes to everyone. Well, everyone except for him.
But Hana… she had the potential to do what no one else could and fulfill his dream.
As his form became physical once again and he stretched to loosen his unused joints, he looked out the window.
It's so dreary out, he thought. What a blue afternoon.
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Cosmic_Cockatoo
Cosmic_Cockatoo Uhh... hi.
It's been a while. I wish I could be more cheerful or give a more action-packed update, but there is a certain... situation going on in my ancestral country, so you might understand my unwillingness to write about a R*ssian-coded character. In a way, writing this chapter was cathartic. The conversation between Nimhr and Hana reflects my own feelings of helplessness and rage. It means a lot to me, and I suppose after writing this I'm in a better place than I was before. I can't guarantee regular updates due to the ~situation~, but rest assured the story isn't dead. There's a lot of developments I can't wait to share with everyone, so I hope your patience is rewarded!
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