Tragic Innocence

Chapter 54: Beloved

            It was not until Crow screamed out Pentulla’s name that Zolata spun around with widened eyes.  She thought she had heard Pentulla’s screams, but when the bats had clouded overhead only moments after, she had thought that they were the cause of her distress.  But now Crow was wailing.

Feeling panic clamping her heart into stillness, Zolata bolted down the slick steps, disregarding her own safety so that she could assist in any way.  All she found was Crow rolled into a tight ball.  His back was bare from many jagged rips and soaked with perspiration.  His hair was plastered against his body and face as he clawed at his ears.

Then her eyes began to dart around frantically for Pentulla.  But her graceful silvery figure was nowhere to be seen.  Her heart fell and she began to tremble.

Zolata darted to Crow and lowered herself to him, her arms wrapping around his trembling back.  He immediately rose and clung tightly to her, his embrace fierce and desperate.

“Crow,” Zolata tried in a calm voice that shook with smarting sobs, “Where is Pentulla?”

Crow shook his head from side to side, his nose brushing against her chest.  His breaths were jagged and his hands grasped Zolata painfully at her shoulders, her red hair snagged tightly beneath.

Zolata felt herself drain.  She grew faint and lost her strength as she dropped against the sharp corner of the step behind her.  At once, she felt the moisture of the moss and thick mildew soaking her clothing.  She ignored it, her head becoming light and dizzy with disbelief.

Crow jerked away from Zolata, his eyes swollen and red as he gazed beseechingly and spoke huskily, his voice riddled with tears, “I let her go--I could have done more.  I--”

            Zolata at once rolled closer to him and pressed his cheek to her bosom as her fingers found a lock of ebony hair and twisted it lightly, around and around.  She nuzzled him fiercely and shook her head vigorously.  “No, there was nothing more to be done, Crow.  The fault does not lie within you.”

            “I am Turon!” Crow roared angrily, jolting Zolata to wakefulness.  She opened her eyes and found him towering above her, his brows angry slants above seething eyes.  His hair flowed about him like a livid flame of blackness.

She carefully stood and adjusted her clothing until her quaking came to diminishing quiver.  She swallowed hard and felt Crow’s stare burning angrily into her.  With a submissive tone and lowered eyes, she spoke softly, though the pain was still evident, “We must go on and finish what we came to do.  We knew the cost would be high.”

            This sentiment disarmed Crow as he dropped to his knees.  He raised his eyes to Zolata’s downcast ones and pressed his forehead to her navel, his hands searching for hers and he whispered, “Please forgive me…”

            “Crow, I—” Unable to find any kind of consolation, she slowly dropped herself upon her knees and pressed her forehead against his.  Instead, she nodded and sniffed back tears of her own.  Tenderly, Crow traced the fragile line of Zolata’s jaw and gently nudged the tip of her nose with his own.  His long lashes were spiked with tears and glistened with unshed ones.

            Zolata seized the moment and placed her lips fully upon his and kissed him soundly.  Then she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and pressed him meaningfully against her body in a tight embrace.

            “Zolata,” he began, then the castle groaned and trembled violently, tossing the pair against the wall.  Rocks and debris crumbled and crashed all around them as she slid toward the chasm where Pentulla had gone.