| |
NAHLI
Nahli watched as Anton’s figure faded away into the distance, the fog swallowing him whole. His mood had shifted from cool to cold. He’d opened up about himself, the braver of the two of them, while she had kept her secrets buried and hidden.
Around her skeletal form, the fog grew heavier, wrapping her in an unwelcome blanket. She lingered in the water for a long while, reminiscing about the last day of her life. What if she’d never gone to Daryna’s? She could have stolen something well worth thieving, then have come at a later time. But she’d been impulsive and desperate to make coin. And for what? To go home to parents who really didn’t even treat her well or to another new land that could have put her in a worse predicament.
She floated on her back to the edge of the lake, kicking her feet to create minuscule splashes. Rolling to her stomach, she dragged herself out from the liquid and threw her clothing on. Her hair dripped water down the back of her shirt, and she squeezed the locks before braiding them and tying the tip. The braid was the only physical part that still felt like her, besides for it being the color white instead of black.
Gathering her inner strength, she headed down the bumpy path to the garden where Anton had reassembled her. She was used to being alone and sleeping outdoors, so a cottage with four walls would feel too confining.
Her gaze fell to a bench she hadn’t noticed when she’d woken in the garden. She’d been too focused on the fact that she was dead, and yet, somehow also alive. The bench looked like a distant relative of the cottages, made with fused bones, except for antlers protruding at the ends. Sinking down onto the remains, she peered out at the garden. Although not made of living plants, it was fascinating in its own way, decorated with bone flowers covered in long and thin clover-shaped petals, thorny bushes, and a mushroom in the dirt’s center.
“Wait a second.” She squinted her flames and took stock of the mushroom surrounded by flowers. “Why you’re not a mushroom at all, are you?”
It was actually a rounded animal skull with two empty eye sockets. In fact, a petal-less flower stem next to it resembled a crooked tail, and the other protruding flowers were shaped like animal hands that were once paws.
Crouching to her knees, Nahli crawled to the animal bones. She plucked the skull from the ground, the base appearing to be a tiny rib cage. Hurriedly, she picked the other small bone flowers and laid them before her. They mirrored the fish in the pond, where parts, but not all, were connected. It would be simple for her to build if she tried, and what better entertainment did she have than this?
The spine curved in a delicate direction, and the arms hung before it in a graceful way as soon as she snapped them on. When she aligned the tail, it looked similar to one of a rat. The skeletal frame wasn’t a rat, though—at least she didn’t think so—as it stood on its haunches. She continued to piece the attachments together, amazed when each one fused to the skeleton.
After she completed her build, she scanned it over, expecting it to move. The creature stood still, no flames alighting in the sockets. With the tip of her finger, she nudged the tiny hand. “Come on, move around.”
She poked the other paw. “Don’t you want to awake, so we can fill up this deserted valley with life?”
White flames matching hers lit and flickered within the eye sockets. Bones shaking, she scooted back, waiting for the creature to move. It thumped to all fours, shook its head, then stood on its haunches again.
As her nerves subsided, she stuck out her hand and crawled forward to let it sniff her palm. She couldn’t smell anything here, but perhaps the tiny skeleton could.
Its head cocked near its shoulder and the skeleton stared at her hand. “What would you like me to do with that?”
Nahli’s flames grew in size. The calm inside her relinquished, and she scurried backward on all four of her appendages. “Y-you can talk.”
“Of course I can.” His hands clasped together—like a human—and the sight could only be considered perplexing.
“But you’re an ... animal?” Or was it? She didn’t know anymore.
“To be precise, a male meerkat, and my name is Roka.” The newly-awakened creature bowed to her as though she were royalty.
She was a walking skeleton, so it shouldn’t have been worrisome that a meerkat could talk and bow, but it was a little distracting.
“Hello, Roka. My name is Nahli.” She extended a hand, and he grasped it.
Scratching the side of his skull, he said, “Forgive me, but I cannot recall much.”
“Do you remember anything from before or how you came here?” If she remembered her past life in Kedaf and Huadu, then she was sure he should remember something. Although, she wasn’t certain if it was different with animals, since they couldn’t talk in her past life.
“I must apologize, but no. There seems to be a gap in my memory.”
“You knew your name and that you’re a meerkat,” she pointed out.
“Yes, it is a quite unique thing, isn’t it?”
She stared at Roka, not knowing whether to trust the little thing. But from building him, it gave her an idea.
“Follow me.” She waved Roka on, explaining to him where he was and how she’d arrived to the Bone Valley as they headed toward Anton’s cottage.
Once at the entrance, where several curving horns peeked out, she thrust open the door and threw herself inside. “Anton, wake up!”
Startled, he jerked awake and reached for the carving knife on the table. “What is it? Are you all right?”
He’d been slumped on the settee, flames closed. She almost felt bad for disturbing him, but this was too important.
“I’m fine, but I have something to show you.” She glanced over her shoulder to find Roka already crouched there.
“Couldn’t you have knocked on the door?” he muttered. “Perhaps appeared less like a wild creature, scaring me out of my mind?”
Nahli ignored him as Roka slid past her leg and entered the cottage. “I think the lady here has an idea she felt was important.”
Anton’s jaw dropped open. “What in all of Kedaf is that?”
“You mean the Bone Valley,” Roka corrected him, maneuvering forward.
Anton’s spine flexed against the back of the settee, the knife clenched in his fist.
Nahli hurried forward. “It’s fine, Anton. I brought him back to life.”
“You? You did this?” His tone sounded confused as he massaged his hair at his temple.
“Yes, I went to the garden and discovered his skeleton pieces!” She rapidly pointed out the door. “Then I built him.”
Anton stayed quiet, not appearing at all as enthusiastic as Nahli felt. However, his spine appeared less rigid.
The meerkat dropped to all fours and proceeded forward, then sat back on his hind legs. “Anton, my name is Roka.”
“Why can you talk?” Anton pressed, rubbing his temple again.
“Why can you talk?” Roka asked with clasped hands.
Anton’s flames narrowed at the skeletal creature. “Do you know Maryska?”
Nahli hadn’t even thought to question Roka about her. What if he belonged to her? But she waved off the thought. It would have been a strong coincidence for Maryska to guess that Nahli would find him mostly buried.
“Possibly. Possibly not. I only know what I know and what I know is that I am a meerkat named Roka who has awoken in the Bone Valley. Nahli provided me with the last part.”
Perhaps it was possible that Roka had never even been alive before, and had never lived anywhere except for the garden. He could have been born of the Bone Valley and that was how he came about—a decoration of bones that she put together to give life to. She shook her head. To think about questions without answers didn’t do anyone good.
“After I built Roka, an idea came to me.” She sat on the settee, leaving a wide space between her and Anton.
“What’s your idea?” Anton’s tone didn’t seem impressed.
“I think we should rebuild the city. We could start with the smaller piles that would be easier to find pieces in, and then move on from there.”
“Hmm. Then what?”
“We can figure a way to break out of here with an army and perhaps retrieve our bodies.”
The idea of having an army to possibly find a way out through the door would be beneficial if they came across Maryska.
Anton tapped his jaw with his index finger. The clicking sound his digit produced was the only noise in the room. Nahli and Roka sat watching, waiting.
Finally, Anton said, “I like the idea. Now may I go back to sleep, and we can start on the task in the morning?”
Nahli was anxious to begin now, yet a small yawn escaped her, and she thought it better to begin when the fog cleared.
“Fine.”
She left Anton’s cottage and entered the thick fog, with Roka’s padding feet behind her. After glancing back at the row of homes, she turned to the meerkat. “I’m not sure if you want to stay in a cottage or outdoors. They’re all empty besides Anton’s, though.”
“I may venture around for a while and see if I can try to remember anything,” Roka replied.
It was a reasonable idea, and one she hoped would work because, perhaps, then they could have more answers. “Don’t go into the bone woods, though. There are three ghastly beasts with too many eyes and too many teeth skulking around in that area.”
With a quick nod, he scurried off.
She trampled down the pebbled path that curved into the garden toward the bone bench. Curling up on the lonely piece of furniture, she closed her flames to fall asleep and wondered if she would dream. But did the dead even dream?
“Are you ready to build?”
A deep male voice pulled Nahli out of sleep. The answer to her question so far was that the dead do not in fact dream, or at least the first time she hadn’t.
When she stretched to a sitting position, she straightened her spine and extended her fists upward. She angled her head to gaze up at Anton, his white hair hanging loosely at his shoulders. He looked better with his hair down instead of tied back like it had been at the market. Freer.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Taking a moment, she studied him. His square jaw was one of his best features, she decided. Zikri had a weak chin that she was fond of, but those chins she would forever stay away from.
Nahli dragged herself to stand and hunched over the edge of the garden. “Do you want to begin with this one?”
“Wherever you want to start is fine with me.”
She knelt to the dusty ground and reached for the skull.
Anton lightly touched her elbow. “No, the head should come last. It’s easier to build from the feet up.”
“The one time you built a skeleton?” She smiled.
“Yes. And she turned out all right, didn’t she?” His voice came out playful.
Still smiling, she shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Nahli started on one foot as Anton began on the other. He was already at the pelvis by the time she’d finished the toes. This was more complicated than she’d thought as she listened to the light sizzle of her piece connecting.
Roka appeared beside the pile of bones. “Would you like any help?” Nudging with the tip of his skull where his nose should be, he pointed at the pieces that might be next.
“How can you tell?” she asked.
“By examining the both of you, I am finding a similar bone,” Roka said, puffing up his rib cage.
Why hadn’t she thought of that? She could have been studying Anton’s skeleton the entire time.
When she attached the last piece, the skeleton was almost as tall as Anton with chin-length, curly hair.
“Awake,” she said.
Nothing happened. Grinding her jaw back and forth, she yelled the word again. It had been used in the sentence when she’d awoken Roka. She didn’t understand why the word wasn’t working.
Her flames fell to Roka who shrugged his tiny shoulders, then to Anton, who was scratching the side of his cheekbone.
“How did you awaken me?” she asked.
Anton stared up at the crackling sky. “I said awake, my queen.”
“All right. Awake, my king.” The skeleton remained still, not even the slightest twitch.
“You awoke the meerkat, right?” Anton asked. “It could be possible we may only be able to rouse one thing.”
That sounded possible... Her flames shifted to Roka. “Would you like to try?”
“I would be happy to try, my lady.” Roka bowed and placed a hand against the skeleton. “Awake,” he said. No movement. “Awake, my king.” No flames. “Awake, my queen.” Frozen. His gaze drifted up to Nahli. “I am sorry, I do not think it will work for me.”
Frustration pulsed through Nahli’s bones. She stared at the unmoving skeleton and kicked at his legs. He toppled to the ground with a loud thud.
“There’s no need for that,” Anton whispered. “We did all we could.”
Whirling around, she scoffed, “You know, this is all your fault, Anton. If you wouldn’t have shown up at the booth that day, I could have gotten the herbs Daryna needed, then I wouldn’t be dead right now.”
“Don’t blame me for your actions!” Anton fumed. “You could have found a trade and made coin the right way.”
“What? Like you? Go perform tricks for coin and hate myself for it?”
She knew she shouldn’t have gone that far because he sucked in a sharp breath, clacking his front teeth against his lower ones without a word.
“Well, you’re a queen now, aren’t you?” he spat.
Instead of apologizing, she couldn’t stop herself. “I am no one’s queen, least of all yours. I would rather be deader than I already am.”
“If I could go back and leave you in pieces on the ground, I would.”
He whirled around and stormed off, leaving her with a hollow feeling inside her already empty rib cage.
