Abyss

Chapter 14: Light at the end of the tunnel



Something was wrong with Pheus. Ayve eyed the dark silhouette of his companion in the dim light of an early sunrise. Of course, Pheus was never in good humour, but in the last weeks his mood had turned from a murky grey to a brooding almost-black.



After the wolf incident, the nymphs had started demonstrating their silent approval to him. The distrusting glances that had grown less over the previous months anyway disappeared entirely, they hardly even looked up when he approached, and they regularly provided him with a wide variety of fruits and cooked roots and fungi. The ladies especially were hurt when their hero hardly ate a bite of it. It took Ayve some patience until he had convinced them that Pheus did not mean to affront them but had merely grown up in a different culture in which vegetable food was less valued.



In regards to this, Pheus’ behaviour did not surprise him. What unsettled him was the way Pheus withdrew further and further into himself. Previously, the man had always been around him, sharing food, assisting him when Ayve was not well, and uttering some biting remarks that even made Ayve crack a small smile at times. Lately, Pheus often sat by himself, his face not giving away what was going on in his mind. The time that he spent hunting was prolonged, and sometimes, late at night in the flickering light of the dying camp fire, Ayve felt his gleaming green eyes bore into him.



Now, at dawn, when the first stripes of pink and orange mingled with the lightening blue of the sky, Ayve had woken to find Pheus sitting emerged deeply in thoughts once more. The other man was not yet aware that Ayve was not asleep any longer. The nymph hesitated. He did not like prying in the mind of a familiar person. He cherished other people’s private sphere. Still, in a way, he was bound to find out what was going on with his companion. He needed to know if he could rely on Pheus. He depended on him.



Eventually, he made up his mind. Carefully, so that Pheus did not notice, he delved into his thoughts. The feel of long silky hair gliding through fingers was the first sensation he grew aware of. It was followed by a warm feeling in his crotch. A feeling that went beyond simple pleasure as he could distantly remember it. A yearning for control, a desire to bend someone to his will.



Ayve sighed in silent resignation. Oh, he knew what this was about. An impulse told him to leave Pheus alone with these intimate thoughts, but he fought it down. He wanted to make sure.



He saw himself being pushed down by a blurred form that represented Pheus. His alter ego was strangely removed from reality, gazing dreamily, with mild expectancy up at the other man, rendered completely helpless, mindless. The blurred form looked coolly down on him; information that Ayve could only sense, not see. His alter ego dropped his gaze, fixing Pheus’ loins. He lifted his hands…



Ayve withdrew. He closed his eyes, drew his legs closer to his torso, and hugged himself tightly. A slight nausea took hold of him when he thought of getting that close to another person, of giving himself up in this way. He just… images flared up before his inner eye in a whirlwind of emotions that were attached to them. Images of Pheus taking him hard and passionately and images of Pheus ignoring him for weeks. Of Pheus barely granting him a single glance while they were amongst others. As if Ayve were not worthy of him, just his dirty little secret.



Ayve’s fingernails clawed into his left shoulder. Dirty little secret… -just what he had always been in his life. Had his genitor forced his mother to comply or had she willingly surrendered to him, dazed by this rare, short phase in a nymph woman’s life in which she was ready to have a baby and thus ready to get intimate with whoever was presented to her? Why did it matter if Ayve’s hair was black or red, if he was tall or small? Even now, at a point when the small group that was left of his tribe trusted him almost blindly - as they should trust their leader - he did not feel a part of the group. Was that him? Had he grown accustomed to being the outsider so much that he could not blend in if given the chance?



Perhaps it was better that way. One night of inattentiveness, one night of holding the warm body of a person in his arms that respected him, valued him, and everything had been in ruins. He could have saved them. All of them. His bride, his father, his kinsmen. Had he only not been asleep. What value had his powers when he did not make use of them in the one moment when they were needed the most?



Everyone he had ever been close to in any way had suffered. His mother had suffered from the shame of not carrying his foster father’s child but a bastard. His father had suffered under the constant doubts and distrust towards the boy that he saw as his son regardless of any misgivings. His bride had been treated unkindly because she had not disrespected Ayve the way the others had. Pheus had been in a predicament, caught between wanting Ayve and wanting to please his father. Sometimes Ayve thought people were better off without him. Still, he had a task. He was not going to let his father down and ignore his last wish. That much he owed him.



As to Pheus – Ayve was at a loss. He enjoyed the other man’s company. It soothed his loneliness. In addition, he felt indebted to Pheus after everything the other man had done for him and the chances he had given up to be able to do so. Pheus could have been the leader of his own people, now, had he chosen to leave the corpse-like figure of his ex-lover behind. He had not. Should Ayve try to be at least a little bit ‘nice’ to Pheus? Would that help, or would it only make matters worse? Would that merely put false hopes into the man?







Ayve had suggested that they camped for two or three days near a stream they had struck. This way, they could make use of the last warm days before the winter came, restock the supplies they always carried – especially during the cold season – and patch up their clothes. His proposal had been accepted with glee. The journey was growing more and more tiring for everyone, and those breaks lifted the group’s spirits. Sometimes, there were discussions about whether they should not end their search and settle down somewhere. They had passed several places with a large wildlife stock and futile ground that would have fed them well enough. However, in the end, they always arrived at the same conclusion: they were too few. Above everyone else, Ayve knew the problem for what it was. It was his duty as leader of his tribe to oversee the lineage. There were strict rules that his father had taught him that regulated who was allowed to have children with whom. Ayve did not know what would happen if they were disregarded, but he was certain there was a good reason for them, and with so few of them – some closely related – they simply would not be able to rebuild the tribe.



It was early in the afternoon. One male nymph and one lady had gone a little further down the stream for fishing, the others roamed an area a little further away for fungi and herbs. Ayve had built a makeshift smokehouse so they could preserve the fish – under protests and some help of Pheus who did not think much of Ayve doing hard physical labour but had enough to do with making new tools. Pheus had found some ideal stone that he split and worked on until it was perfect for cutting and so on. After all, they could hardly all make use of the one knife he carried. Nymphs – or at least Ayve’s tribe – were not experienced in working metal. Subsequently, Pheus had started manufacturing all kinds of everyday items out of wood and bone.



Three new bowls, half a dozen spoons, and some sewing needles rested beside him as Pheus looked up at the sound of splashing water. He was just quick enough to catch a glimpse of Ayve’s enticing bottom before it sank below the surface. Immediately, Pheus’ eyes were glued to the swimming body that so innocently made its rounds in the afternoon sun. Indeed, it almost looked as if Ayve was not swimming in water but a pool of light.



After a while, the pale, scar-covered body, that despite the trying journey had gained some weight again, re-emerged. Ayve seized his garments and kneeled down to wash them, equipped with the last remains of soap they had. Although he had to know that Pheus was there, he seemed unfathomed by his presence. He cleaned everything meticulously – as nymphs tended to do – and put it out to dry. Afterwards, he just sat there, in all his fragile, natural beauty, legs drawn close, arms wrapped around them, and his head resting on top. The wind brushed through his hair that had quickly dried in the sun.



Pheus walked up to him. A step or two behind Ayve, he halted.



The nymph looked over his shoulder insecurely up at Pheus.



Pheus sank down on his knees, putting his right arm around Ayve and drawing him close. He pressed his face against Ayve’s flesh, sucking in the scent of summer sun that emanated from his skin. As was to be expected, Ayve tensed, but he did not shy away or give any other clear sign that he wanted Pheus to let go of him. He just sat there.



They just sat there. For ages.







The autumn storms crashed over them. They had hurriedly built a shelter at the foot of the side of a steep hill that faced away from the wind und thus shielded them from it when the first signs of the storm had shown. Pheus looked worriedly up, dreading that the animal skins that were supposed to keep off the weather would be torn from the wooden construction they were bound on to. They were essential for their survival in the upcoming winter.



These days, every one of them carried as much as he or she could. The fragile women and Ayve carried the lighter supplies, such as herbs, fungi, roots, cutlery, sewing things, small bundles of twigs, dried grass and branches to at least be able to light a tiny fire in case they found no material near their camp. The others carried said furs, smoked meat and fish, some fruits, and cooking equipment. Everyone used a wooden pole as walking stick that combined could be used to quickly erect a small tent. They had been walking alongside a huge swamp for ages, now. They could not know what lay ahead of them.



Pheus found himself sitting in a corner of the crowded shelter, soothing Ayve, while the nymph was bent over a steaming herbal infusion to calm his respiratory system. It was not only cold and stormy outside but also very wet. That never bode well for his health.



Of course, he was eyed for actually touching Ayve, but since all of them sat so close that some could not totally avoid physical contact either, Pheus stubbornly continued. They dared not question him anyway.



A bowl of hot soup was passed through the many hands from the front of the tent where a small fire had been lit to the back. Pheus took it, filled a spoon and held it out to Ayve.







It was in the first days of the following summer that they first encountered unknown nymphs. They had found another group of three of their own tribe in the middle of winter, underfed and with severe injuries they had received during an attack of a wild cat. After nursing them for several days, they had been able to go on. The additional eaters had caused their supplies to wane faster than planned, but they made it through the cold season, not least due to Pheus’ help – once more.



Lately, however, Pheus had taken to disappearing for indefinite amounts of time. He had just come back after a several days long absence. Now, he trod silently at Ayve’s side through a mountainous region that they could only cross because a river had cut deeply into the rocky giants.



What have you been doing? Ayve asked his companion.



Exploring, Pheus replied, keeping the exchange silent.



Ayve threw a side glance at him. He chose not to dig deeper. Some things he really did not need to know. For example, he was absolutely not keen on knowing what Pheus was thinking when he eyed him the way he presently did. Not that he did not have his well-founded assumptions, yet assumptions were affecting him less intensely than knowledge; they could be dismissed.



A woman who was especially adept at climbing and had therefore taken over the scouting, hurried back to the rest of their travelling group. Highly excited, she reported that she had seen another group camp in a nearby valley.



Everyone was turning to look expectantly at Ayve.



The leader asked the female nymph to show him the way. Pheus followed close by. As the group of now fifteen nymphs and half-nymphs that had accumulated over the years climbed down the steep slopes of the valley, the unknown four nymphs that sat around a camp fire near a small pool rose in surprise.



Ayve went ahead, motioning for Pheus – who made to follow him – to stay behind. After he had explained to them who he was, the strangers invited the group to join them at the fire.



“We were not expecting so many,” the spokesman said while another one was preparing tea.



Expecting? Ayve enquired.



The unoccupied strangers were still staring at him, the oddity. The one that spoke without moving his lips.



“There were two others. A male and a female. The man claimed to have fled from an assault on your tribe. He seemed to have met his companion some time later, and together they found their way to us. In face of the unsettling news, our leader sent us to go looking for other refugees. Are there more to come?”



Ayve looked away. He made a low clicking noise. That is unlikely. Many have lost their lives that night, and the way is long and tiresome. Whoever it is that managed to walk it in a company of merely two is someone to look up to. I would not have deemed that possible.



Their journey was not yet over, either. The settlement of the tribe still lay several dozen daytrips away. However, they had at least achieved what they had barely hoped for: they had found the tribe that they knew only from distant rumours and old tales. They had found refuge.







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