Abyss

Chapter 12: Struggles



They waited until the autumn storms had passed by, then they went into a seaport. The whole group came this time. They were going to cross the Channel the way Ayve had crossed it the last time – by boarding a ship.



There was awe on the faces of the nymphs, at the grand buildings that the Romans had erected, at the great number of humans, and at the fact that they passed unnoticed. Ayve had had to divulge that he had the power to hide them from the looks of the port’s inhabitants in order to explain why they were safe. He had, however, carefully avoided any unnecessary details. The phrase ‘mind influencing’ had not been mentioned. After all, nymphs valued their self-control and privacy above everything else and the mention of a forceful breach of both would make them afraid of the person who knew how to do that.



A lighthouse of the Classis Britannica, the Roman marine that was stationed along the coast to overlook the traffic on the Channel, was visible from afar. Grand marine ships were anchoring in the harbour. Disrelish was written all over Pheus’ face. Had there been an alternative, he would have refused to set one foot anywhere near this place. The only reason he was taking up with this was that even if it had been summer, Ayve would not have had the strength to cross the sea by swimming. In addition, he was not sure nymphs were made for such exertion. Despite all his loathing for this lower species that violently usurped more and more of their world, Pheus had to admit that humans knew how to make up for their lack of talents in any field. Ships were very convenient, even if you knew other means of crossing water.



The boat they boarded was much smaller than the marine ships. It was single-masted, the neck and head of a large swan adorning its rear. Ayve had picked it out on an earlier expedition to the harbour. Pheus had offered to undertake it in his stead, since the weather had a bad influence on the half nymph’s health, but Ayve had insisted on doing it himself. It was almost as if he had been trying to deter Pheus from going into a human settlement alone. Pheus had wondered about that, but had refrained from enquiring about it.



Now, they climbed on deck, and Ayve went ahead towards an opening. Pheus’ kind was not familiar at all with artificially built housings, but from the nymphs who had dwelled in wooden huts, he knew what doors were. They entered a corridor by climbing down. Silent determination was written over Ayve’s face as he headed straight for a specific door that led off it. They stepped into a small room that seemed made for two people, not for eight.



This will have to do to keep us warm, Ayve declared. We will arrive before sundown.



The six nymphs took seats on the beds – the women on one side, the two men on the other – while Ayve and Pheus settled down on the chairs that stood next to a tiny table.



Will this room not be occupied by humans? Pheus asked for only Ayve to hear.



I have made sure they keep away. The half nymph leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.







The winter did not come as sudden and fierce as it had been during Pheus’ and Ayve’s first journey, but it slowed them down nonetheless. At least the nymphs were experienced in rambling and could build proper huts. Still, were they able to endure long, arduous distances, they were not made to carry heavy loads, and neither was Ayve. Therefore, they had to get along with few and make the best of what they found on their way.



Pheus tried to carry as much of Ayve’s luggage as he could, and sometimes he feared he would soon have to carry the man himself, too. When they moved through the country, Ayve rarely communicated. It seemed that he needed all his concentration and energy to put one foot in front of the other. All Pheus could hear of him was the rattling breath and a tiny cough every now and again. He was almost glad to hear the wind-like whisperings of the nymphs behind him. They kept his mind occupied.



The nights were even worse.







They had found a small cave in the foothills of a mountain, and had decided not to build tents for the night because it offered sufficient shelter. So, for once, they all slept in one room whereas they usually slept in couples in four huts.



Familiar sounds of a coughing bout woke Pheus. It was the same nearly every night. The rest and the warmth released Ayve’s body of his tensions and his restraint and let him concentrate on the things that were suppressed during their walks. Ayve crouched on all fours on the floor, his hands clenched to fists, his hair falling down like a curtain around his face. Ceaseless coughing agonised him. His whole body shook in exhaustion.



As usual, their beds were remote from the others’, and therefore the nymphs were not disturbed in their sleep. The long, tiring march in the frosty wind had probably gifted them with deep sleep in any case.



Pheus rose and went over to their water storage. He poured some into a bowl and handed it Ayve who only reluctantly sat up, wiping the tears away that had involuntarily spilled from his eyes. His face was red from strain.



Pheus placed the fur that he had covered himself with during his sleep around Ayve’s shoulders. Subsequently, he took the last twigs and branches that were left from the previous evening and lit a fire. It had almost become a routine – waking up in the middle of the night and helping Ayve to get rid of his bouts with some tea and warmth. When the first small flames licked the sparse pieces of wood, Pheus placed a stone bowl on top of them, and left the cave to find some more fuel. Spruce was not the best choice, but it was available and would have to do.



He cut some of the herbs that the nymphs had taken with them and added them to the seething water. Once he had passed a bowl of the tea to Ayve, he commenced drawing slow circles with his hand over the thin man’s back. It was the maximum of touch that Ayve was allowing these days, but it soothed him. It soothed them both, although Pheus was loath to admit that he had sunken as low as craving whatever physical proximity Ayve was granting him.



Now that the coughing had lessened, Pheus grew aware of someone else moaning quietly in a far corner. He turned his head and saw the male nymph that they had picked up on their way role about restlessly on his bed, yet unmistakeably fast asleep and dreaming. He smirked. Pheus had been wondering if that might happen. He had always been suspicious of the brew the nymphs drank. He was sure it had a certain effect on them, helped them to suppress their natural drives and thus maintain their strange aloofness, the lack of physicalness that characterised their culture – and that effect was wearing off, now, since they did not have all the ingredients to make their traditional tea… He could smell the nymph’s arousal. Too bad that Ayve showed no such signs.







Spring came, and with it, Ayve’s cough lessened. However, he remained as distant as ever. He hardly exchanged a word with the ones he was guiding, and he only communicated with Pheus when it was an unavoidable necessity. To Pheus it seemed that Ayve was only dragging himself along. ‘My will to live originates in the task my father has left me,’ so he had said. Now, Pheus realised the deep truth behind these words. It sickened him, made his breath catch and his anger boil up again. He felt the need to shake Ayve violently to wake him up, to force some life, some emotion, some energy into him.



At daytime, Ayve often resembled a walking corpse, or a puppet, had Pheus known about puppets. Only in the evenings or early morning hours might Pheus catch Ayve gazing with a hint of emotion into the wilderness that surrounded them. Yet Pheus could not define what he saw in Ayve. There often were no clearly outlined thoughts or sentiments.



Pheus longed for a partner, for a decent conversation, for an opportunity to have a good laugh. Even though they were out in the wild, heading to a place far away that they weren’t sure if it even existed, he felt hemmed in. This was so far away from what he had hoped for; so far away from who he was. He was denied everything that defined him in order not to scare these people that he did not care about and everything for the dim chance of perhaps one day regain the only person he had ever missed.



Ayve…







It was early morning on a late spring day. The nymphs were still asleep. Ayve always slipped out before anyone else, to bathe or wash unseen. Who could blame him? Yet, Pheus knew Ayve’s body, new it by heart. He had washed and salved it many times to tenderly bring its old energy back. He followed Ayve. He needed him to himself for a little while. Perhaps this time…



On his way to the stream, Pheus found some strawberry bushes. He plucked those fruits that were already ripe.



As he reached the clearing, he halted in his tracks and remained half hidden behind a tree. There Ayve sat and moistened his pale skin with water. The stream sprang from the depth of a mountain and was too cold to swim in. It was not deep enough either. The drops that lingered on Ayve’s body reflected the sunlight.



Of course, Ayve soon grew aware of Pheus’ presence. The man stepped out of the shadows, displayed the fruits he had brought, and settled down on the mossy ground close to Ayve’s garments.



His fragile companion seemed a little uncomfortable being naked around him. He quickly dressed.



Pheus ignored the strange behaviour.



They rested side by side for a while, the sun warming their faces. Pheus gazed over to Ayve who sat there so peacefully, eyes closed. He removed the green from a strawberry and brushed the red fruit lightly against Ayve’s lips. The man startled, but then reluctantly parted his lips. The fruit slipped in, and Pheus’ thumb lightly grazed Ayve’s soft flesh. He would have loved to lean forward and capture the other man’s mouth, now, but the stare he received told him that was impossible.



He contented himself with offering Ayve another berry.







Please let me have a part in your thoughts and feelings…