Spontanéité

Legacy of an Arrowhead 🔹 snapshot

There they are as usual, a cluster of young women peering into the depths of the fountain, whispering under their breaths, retrieving precious coins from their pockets and kissing them for good fortune before tossing the coins into the water. It used to be a well, not a fountain, one of the deepest and biggest in the Fortress of the Land, but it's long been filled with coins of different eras, sizes and metals. At the bottom, there's little doubt among some that the metals are rusted and corrupted now, poisoning the water. It's fortunate there is little water left and the well hasn't been used as a water source for an era. Others speculate as to what the coins have become. Some say silver. Gold. Bronze. Gems, even. And all who toss their coins in do it for good fortune and for the granting of a desire or deep wish.

A group of men- soldiers- not in armour and not openly armed pass by, winking and flirting as they pass, the women giggling and nudging each other with stifled laughs before they separate, heading down different diverging streets. One of the soldiers- the only one, it seems, that did not pay any attention to any of the young women and was, as a sort of ironic result, given the most attention in return- leaves the group, heading for one of the entrances, this one lesser-known to most of the Children of the Earth.

"He doesn't know?"

I shake my head and wait for him to shut and secure the door before grabbing his hands. "You know you're going to die," I breathe.

He squeezes my hands. "I might not," he says softly. "They might see sense."

"They won't." I bring my hands up to cup his face, and my fingers tremble. "He won't remember you. He'll forget." I ache. So much. So much. "I don't want him to forget."

He touches his forehead to mine. "He needs to be alive for that. You too." He closes his eyes. "If I told you not to follow-"

"You did tell me. But I told you. I'm coming anyway."

He kisses me deeply, pausing once to tell me he loves me before resuming.

I pull back, resting my head against his shoulder as I struggle for breath.

"Don't," I whisper. "Don't. I love you. He loves you. He needs you." My voice is hoarse, my throat and eyes closed and burning. I wrap my arms tightly around him, trying to remember everything about him. "You're his Fadu."

He touches my face with his fingertips and I realise I'm crying as I open my eyes. And so is he, his eyes rimmed with red and swollen, his tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Don't," I try to say, but it's futile and we both know it. He's going to die. I'm never going to see him again. He's never going to see him again. "He's going to ask me where you went," I gasp out, clutching the collar of his worn cloak.

He squeezes his eyes shut. "It has to be done," he whispers. "I need to be sure." He opens his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "If I can do something, anything, to prevent an attempted slaughter of a People known to be protected by the Great Keeper, then I'll do it."

"They won't listen."

"But what if they do?" he asks quietly. Patiently. We've discussed this before, several times. And we both know there is nothing else to say on the topic.

"I love you. I love you," I whisper, repeating the words as I bury my face in his cloak. He holds me to him, one of his hands stroking the back of my neck, the other splayed across my lower back. He lowers his head, resting it on my shoulder so his nose and lips brush the side of my neck.

"Remember the Keeper," he murmurs. I nod once and tighten my hold, clutching at his back, at his shoulders.

I can feel him take a deep breath before he pulls back, placing soft kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, along my jaw, and then on my lips. "I love you," I murmur.