Codex Mortem

Broken bonds

Dawn

Time has passed and passed again, and
I had no notion of it nor I wished to. No more tears to cry. With closed burning eyes and soaked cheeks, I simply didn't care.
Grief, resentment, frustration- all came, all gone.
I could hear her panting in the cell next to mine. I could hear it in the silence, and I was sad for her. For what lays in her path.
And the one cell at the end of the corridor was silent. The cell with no bars but thick walls.

He was there, I could feel it in the scar of my palm. Jayce. Somehow, I knew he could feel me too. He could not understand the bond we had, but I did. For it was as the man from the boat said, with fire in his eyes- I will remember, but he won't.
He pledged his allegiance to me, an oath forged in blood.
No one should be tied to me. I was doomed. Lying here on the damp dirt, awaiting my sentence. And I know what it was. My death will break the oath and Jayce will be free.
For an oath could be broken by release, or by death.
My mind drifted from place to place, despite my desire to lose myself in the depths of nothingness. It worked for a while, but then I could hear her again.
Mira. Her sobs have turned shallow, just like mine a while ago. But her breathing, her breathing reminded me of mother, and how her breath was fanning over the back of my neck, sending chills on skin in cold winter nights. We used to sleep close to keep warm, and I always used to place a frozen foot in between her feet to get warm. I chuckled.
She never pushed me away but I always knew that she wasn't keen to that. She loved me and I loved her. Never raised a hand to me, even though it was a normal thing amongst the people. Never, well, except- or not quite... Another chuckle escaped me.
She did raised a smooth, thin stick, once, and for a good reason. I understand it now, but I couldn't sit on my ass for two days.
It was the one day when we went to the market, and mother was busy talking to a thin elderly woman into buying some herbs we dried in the sun.
I sneaked further into the market eager to see others people goods and merchandisers. With my hair braided on a side and in my belt a coin, I wandered around amazed, eyes jumping fast from left to right- till I spotted it. The honey glazed apples. Half baked, soft and rich, with brown golden honey dripping on the stick they were impaled on, my mouth was watering.
Eyes set, determined steps, I rolled the coin in between my fingers.
In my mind, the apple was already in my belly. Once in front of the vendor, I lift the coin up with a wide grin, waiting.
The apple man didn't smile back. Coldly, he told me that the coin was not enough any more. Stretching my grin even wider, I offered him the coin again.
He looked at me, looked at the coin, and back at me. "You can have more than an apple. Even keep your coin. If I can have more than a look."
My mouth dropped.
I did not understood the meaning of his words, but I knew were nothing good. I step back cautiously, still facing him, till I bumped into something. Turning around slowly, I realised that it was actually someone. Someone annoyed.
"Watch your bloody ste- oh," he turned towards me, halting his cursing.
Impressed by his size and not daring to meet his face, I stammered an apology. I felt he was different, no lower like us.
I remember how the fear crawled up my bones, for all the stories I've heard and believed.
He eye-measured me head to toe, nostrils flaring like smelling me. His demeanour changed. "No bleeding. Unripe." His voice a whisper, yet I heard him clear. "You hold beauty, and purity. Not a blessing in this world, but a curse."
His thumb slowly touched my braid and my shoulder, moving upwards.
Carresing my cheek, he lowered his face more and more, till lips meet lips.
I was mortified.
Suddenly a shriek filled my ears. Mother! I jolted back, eyes wide open.
She was running towards me, fuming like a bull, throwing stones towards him. To my astonishment, the wolf chuckled and vanished with unhuman speed. Not before he whispered in my ear: "You worth more. Much more."

The way back to our confined hut wasn't pleasant.
"Playing harlot in the market?" She shout at me. It wasn't even my fault. Only lips touching, nothing else. I couldn't see the wrong in that, not when I didn't do anything. So I rebelled for the first time.
In the stupidity of the moment, I answered back.
"Women of my age are already married! And not with pestering mothers shouting at them." I yelled back at her, a deep regret engulfing me. It was wrong, and yet I said it.