Abyss

Chapter 8: The fragile



Pheus needed to know the truth. He needed to know what had happened to Ayve. He refused to believe that Ayve had died – the mere thought made him dizzy. Using his mind-influencing abilities to walk amongst the humans unseen, Pheus entered the human settlements. They had built huts out of stone. Smoke was coming out of their top.



They stank. Did these primitives know nothing about baths? A child was sitting on the floor, crying loudly. Nobody cared. Pigs were crossing Pheus’ way. His anger grew. Was this it? These people were the cause for all his people’s misery, for all the suffering? What right did they have to slaughter everything in their path? These animals that…



He had no words to describe his disgust.



Pheus could make out that the primitives had a language, yet he could not understand it. There seemed to be different peoples as well – these humans differed in appearance and talking from those he had encountered on his travels.



Further and further he walked through the untidy dwellings. There was no real plan; he did not know what he was looking for. He merely went on, hoping to catch a hint of Ayve’s whereabouts, as unlikely as that was.



Eventually, in one of the largest settlements, Pheus saw some of the women wear the wooden adornments he knew nymph ladies usually wore when they were bonded. A first trace. The following weeks he spent watching them, trying to espy further items or other hints that connected these people to the attack on the nymphs. There were several people walking about with fine nymph garments. Pheus followed them at times.



One evening, Pheus had started wandering through the settlement at will, frustrated by the hopelessness of the situation and imagining the vengeance he would take in repayment of his loss, he suddenly felt something familiar. He was near a farm at the brim of the settlement. Chickens were fleeing over the yard, half running, half flying, cackling loudly and losing their feathers because of a boy who ran after them. There was the ever faintest feeling of… Pheus thought his mind was playing tricks on him.



He stepped into the yard. His senses led him to a shed that served as shelter for the chickens and an old goat that a hobbling woman had just milked. The remains of its dead-born goatling were hanging outside in the sun. Why was he drawn to this place?



The sound of flies buzzing in the far corner of the shed, behind a few withered wooden boards, made Pheus investigate further. His eagerness to enter the shack was limited. Whatever animal lay in that corner, it smelled awfully rotten, dead. Still, Pheus believed to hear a heart beat. The goat’s heart beat ten times as loud, but there was a second, slow heartbeat, coming out of the corner…



Pheus followed a hen that just fled in panic into the back of the shack. He froze. Something lay on the floor, covered by old animal hides. The hen gaggled on top of the heap. A few black strands of hair protruded from it… That could not be. Not even these primitives could be so cruel!



Reluctantly, Pheus bent forward and lifted one of the hides. The hen flew off. Pheus dropped the cover and jumped backwards. Involuntarily, for the first time in his life truly being overwhelmed by disgust, he placed his hand over his mouth and his nose while the flies he had disturbed filled the air with their buzzing. For a moment, the usually unshakeable man was paralysed by horror.



On the floor lay a motionless body. By all looks, it had long stopped breathing. Only, its naked form was hard to glimpse. Around the neck and the chest, a whole population of flies had nested, and the rest of it was covered in mud, blood, and other fluids Pheus was not eager to investigate. He could hardly breathe and had to blink back tears.



The picture of a bucket full of water that he had seen in the yard flashed up in his mind. Frantically, he ran out, grabbed it, and hurried back inside, spilling it with momentum over the centre of the fly colony. A black cloud whirled around him; some specimen lay drowned on the floor. Together with white maggots. Pheus swallowed hard, suppressing all of his emotions, and then he swiftly removed the maggots that were still sitting in the flesh. He took off the upper layer of his clothes and covered the inanimate, bony limbs with them, so the insects could not return to their feast.



Pheus checked for vital signs again. He could feel no pulse on Ayve’s wrist, but Pheus still heard a dim heartbeat. He was surprised at the lightness of the body in his arms as he carried him outside, trying to ignore the stench that rose from it.



Halfway between the settlement and the cave in which Pheus spent the nights, there was a stream to which he took the body. After freeing him of the clothes again, he let Ayve glide into the cool water, making sure Ayve’s face stayed above the surface. The lifting and lowering of his chest was hardly noticeable, but Ayve did breathe.



Carefully, Pheus washed the nymph, and used the opportunity to examine the body. There were much more scars covering it than there had been from their mutual training sessions. The most prominent was a badly healed wound across Ayve’s neck. It looked as if it had been deep, deadly, and had still managed to close itself partly, leaving a thick, reddish scar. Yet there was a place left where the raw flesh was still visible; the place the flies had eagerly welcomed as layer for their offspring. It looked bad, inflamed, and parts of the flesh had died off already. Pheus would have to remove it to stall the process. The other wounds on the chest around which the flies had crowded looked less severe.



Pheus turned Ayve around, still holding up his head. There were scars, as well, and his bottom was reddish. Who knew how long he had lain in his own expulsions.



It was a warm summer’s day. Pheus placed Ayve gently on the grass to dry. In his mind, he contemplated what he was supposed to do, now. Ayve was unconscious, barely alive. There was no going back to his people. What did Pheus have to do to help Ayve recover? He needed to treat his wounds. Furthermore – and from the way Ayve looked just as important – he had to feed him. How did you feed someone unconscious? Ayve could not chew. He would have to cook a soup and feed Ayve only the fluid. Perhaps he was lucky and there was a reflex that made Ayve swallow it.



Having dressed him again, Pheus took Ayve up and carried him the rest of the way to his cave. Since Ayve was disconcertingly cold, he lit a fire. That also enabled him to heat the blade with which he carefully removed the dead flesh from Ayve’s neck. Ayve did not stir. He covered the bleeding cuts with leaves that he knew had an anti-inflammatory effect – knowledge he had gained during his time with Ayve.



Subsequently, he made a strong soup from the rest of the coney he had hunted the previous day, herbs, and roots. By the time it was ready and had cooled down enough to be fed, Ayve’s wounds had stopped bleeding, so Pheus carefully shifted him into a sitting position, lifted his chin up, opened his mouth, and poured a small portion of the brew into it. He massaged Ayve’s throat so it would let the fluid pass. Ayve stopped breathing in the process, Pheus noticed, that meant he did not breathe the soup in – a good sign. Remembering what it felt like to eat your first meal after a long period of hunger, Pheus fed Ayve only half a bowl of soup and put him to rest on his bed then, hoping against hope that his efforts would not be in vain.



When he came back from collecting wood, Pheus smelled vomit. He was relieved that he had positioned Ayve lying on his side and the soup had been able to flow out, otherwise the weak nymph might have choked on it. With a sigh, Pheus removed the mess, realising at the same time that Ayve would not be able to go outside to pee either.



“What have they done to you?” he whispered, holding the only person who had ever been truly close to him unconscious in his arms.







Pheus fed Ayve several times the day, took him to the river to wash him and his clothes each morning and each evening (perhaps more to keep up his own spirits than to nurse the nymph), and started storing food and wood for the colder seasons. With time, Ayve kept the food in his stomach. The inflammation on his neck healed slowly, and his body was able to hold itself warm, even though Ayve was still very thin.



In the nights, Pheus held Ayve in his arms to feel as much of him as he could. The healthier Ayve got, the more his scent attracted Pheus; yet he knew he could not take advantage of Ayve’s weakness. He needed to wait. As dim as the prospect had been at the beginning, Pheus was now certain that Ayve would recover.



Pheus often thought about the future. What if Ayve woke up, finally? Would they go back to Pheus’ people? The more time he spent in seclusion, with Ayve in his arms, the less appealing that thought was to him. What connected him to these people? He could not name anything of importance. His father was leaving a mess behind, and Pheus did not like the prospect of having to clean that up.



The summer ended, the autumn passed by. Ayve recovered further, yet still slowly. At times, Pheus thought he would wake up. However, the delicate nymph did not open his eyes. His ‘nurse’ recommenced worrying. During winter, caring for Ayve would grow harder.







Pheus started seeing dreams in Ayve’s mind. Blurry images only, but from those he could tell that he did not want to see them clearer. Ayve… what had happened to him? What had they done to him in the past three years?!? The thought of these filthy people laying their hands upon his lover sickened him.



When the weather grew harsh, Pheus sneaked to the human settlements and stole some of the items back that they had gained during their defeat of the nymphs. Material to keep Ayve warm mostly. If during such occasions a chicken passed his way, Pheus did not have any quarrels about taking it along either. Should they starve.



Wrapped in furs, a fire crackling in front of them, the sinister man held his lover close, warming him many hours. Every now and again, pictures would flash up in the other man’s mind. This new development clearly meant that he was improving, that Ayve was regaining his consciousness, did it not? Pheus would only have preferred Ayve’s first movements to be something else instead of a wild twitching as if he tried to defend himself against an invisible person.



One picture that flashed up a little clearer than the rest caught Pheus’ attention. Ayve’s blood-covered father pushing a ring into his hands. Right, the ring… an heirloom that – so had Pheus’ father said – originated in those times when their people had still been friendly. Where was it? Ayve did not have it anymore; he would have found it on him.



When eventually the first rays of the spring sun began to drive the cold winter chill out of their bones, it seemed to Pheus that there was only a thin, sleep-like veil left between Ayve and him.







A dull ache vibrated all around him. He was not more than a bodiless awareness, with no idea of time or space. And yet he felt the ache. He was pulled out of his quiet, dark hiding place. He tried to fight it.



Suddenly, an impact. A body. A stabbing pain. Ayve opened his eyes, widening them in agony. A man smirked maliciously down at him. He tried to catch breath, but he could not. His throat was dry and covered in a second, burning pain.



Laughter filled his ears. There were more people around him. Ayve shut his eyes again. He was too weak to even pull his limbs closer to his body in order to protect it. All he wanted to do was sink back into nothingness.







Pheus sat in the cave entrance and looked darkly over to the man that was stirring in his sleep. He did not only look at his pitiful spasms, though, he looked into his mind. His insides were boiling with rage, with the ever present longing to revenge his lover that now was given a target.



Pheus knew the man out of Ayve’s nightmare. He had seen him multiple times. It was the leader of the humans. He would not be that much longer.



The tall man rose, determined to finally do something, to finally give the dark energy inside of him an outlet. It was dusk; the perfect time for a hunter like him. He prepared himself, secured a knife on his belt, although he was certain he would not make use of it tonight - he had something else in mind - and turned to leave.



Sudden, noisy movement behind him made Pheus look around again. His heart skipped a beat. Ayve had sat up, eyes wide in horror, fighting for breath. His thin arms shook violently under the weight of his frail body. Eventually they gave in and the fragile man slumped back on the floor.



For a moment, Pheus stood dumbstruck. Then he hurried forward to help his patient.



Ayve’s gaze fell on him. Pheus stopped in his tracks. He was bewildered. There was panic flaring up in the man he had taken care of for the past months at the sight of him.



Pheus tried to see in Ayve’s mind what the cause of this was, but it was blank. As if there was a veil that protected Ayve from his memories, yet not from the feelings they induced in him. There was not even a recollection of the dream he had had a mere moment ago in the nymph’s mind.



Pheus decided that perhaps his fast movements were a source of Ayve’s fear. He sat down on the floor, unable to avert his eyes from Ayve’s. He was looking at him! How long had Pheus been hoping for this moment!



Nonetheless, the nymph was still having problems with his respiration. He was fighting to get enough air through whatever had been left of his throat into his lungs – that, from what Pheus could make out in Ayve’s mind, were not working painlessly either. A voiceless cough erupted from the fragile man. It would not stop. Tears filled Ayve’s eyes, which still fixed his observer.



Pheus leaned slowly forward, desperate to help, yet anxious to make it even worse by inducing panic in Ayve once more. “Please, let me help,” he whispered, before he carefully crawled up to the other man.



Ayve seemed torn between distrust and desperation.



Pheus reached him, gently seized him on the shoulder, and helped Ayve turn around. He guided the weak man to rest on his elbows and knees. They were still shaking - after all, they had not been used in years - but at least their owner’s air supply seemed to improve.



His carer gently moved his fingers over the long, untidy hair that ran over Ayve’s back. “It’ll be alright; I’ll look after you.” Pheus had never cared for such empty words of consolation, but now they were everything that came to his mind, and as such they did not seem empty at all.





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