Maruaders Vengence

But he came back. Late in the night he carried a small candle and appeared in the cave. I was awake only because it had been raining and the sound had annoyed me. Now it annoyed me even more to find him coming back in the rain somehow managing to carry a lit candle.

He didn’t look at me. So I turned and refused to look at him. We didn’t speak or acknowledge the others presence until morning.

“Do you have a name?”

I glanced at the tangled hair and beard and glowered at him. I hate him. I couldn’t even say why, but I hated him. “My name is ‘leave me alone.’” I said.

He didn’t even react. To my surprise he just reached forward and peeled away the bandages from my stomach. I glanced down and found to my surprise that my stomach was stitched up. I felt my heart flip flop as I glanced at the man. “You’re a witch doctor.” I whispered.

He chuckled. “No I’m not but I like the sound of it, perhaps I’ll become one.”

“But my stomach…” I protested. “A sword went through it there should be a large hole!”

The wild man smiled. “Yeah well there was until I put you back together.”

I started at him. “You stitched me back together?” I asked.

“Yeah, don’t know why. Guess I felt sorry for you.”

I pondered this. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to be angry that he hadn’t let me die. If I was dead at least I could see my family again. But at the same time I wanted to be grateful because I didn’t really want to be dead. At least not now that I was more alive than dead.

He gently cleaned the wound and then helped me roll over on my back. I realized I had memories of this. They seemed more like dreams but he’d done this before many times. I felt slightly humbled that he’d taken such good care of me and that I’d been so ornery but honestly I couldn’t help it.

When he was done he sat me up and wrapped a poultice around me. I flinched and grimaced that entire time but then it was done and over and I collapsed against the bed covers weak with relief. He watched me expressionless then moved the water and cloth back to the shelves and turned to the fire. I watched his back as he moved easily but slowly.

“Marcos.” I said weakly.

He turned and glanced at me. “Sorry?” he said.

“Marcos. My name is Marcos.”

He raised a puzzled eye brow. “Do you want to live Marcos?” He asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Because it would be easier to die.” He said. Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. My feelings of gratitude toward this hermit were quickly beginning to evaporate.

“Living will be painful.” He continued. “But that is life. It will be painful no matter what you do.”

“Then why live at all?” I snapped.

The hermit set down his knife and turned to face me fully. “Would you give up all the pain and agony to die and forget your three beautiful children?”

I studied him bewildered. “I don’t understand.” I said.

“Yes you do.” He snapped. “You understand perfectly. If you had never lived you’d have never seen your children and wife. You’d have never had a single happy moment with them. You feel agony and pain, and misery but you also felt joy. So you have to decide if it’s worth it to risk all the pain and agony in this world for some joy.”

I closed my eyes and turned my head away. I wasn’t trying to block him out just trying to think. It made sense. Too much sense and I didn’t like it. Of course I wouldn’t give up the moments I’d spent with my children or the mornings with my wife Tessa. Especially now that they were gone. I wouldn’t give up a sing moment. But none of that mattered now that they were gone. And even if I did find a way to survive this life what chance would I have? A flaw appeared in the hermits plan and I was quick to point it out to him. “What if I don’t find joy?” I asked stubbornly.

“That’s a chance you’ll have to take.” He said carelessly and turned back to his knife.

He was finished with his sermon and I lay there smelling the herbs in the water and listening to the fire crackle and hiss and I could come to no conclusion.

                                                                    


                                                                           CHAPTER 3

We fell into a pattern. The Hermit would clean my wound and feed me twice a day, once at night and once at dawn. But during the middle of the day he would leave with his sake and stick and lamp and would not return until long after the sun had set for the day.

I had plenty of time to think about everything. But most days I didn’t think at all. Instead I watched the shadows from the sun travel across the ground. And usually a couple animals would come out and enter the cave. They ignored me completely and went straight to the shelves full of herbs. I shouted at them and tried to stand. I became so dizzy and passed out cold. But it didn’t matter. When I awoke that herbs where gone and so where the squirrels and chipmunks.

When the hermit returned that evening I told him how I’d failed to save his herbs. I said it bitterly and as though I was angry with him. But I was angrier that I could not even stand up.

The Hermit studied me for a long time. “Why did you try to save my herbs?” he asked.

I shrugged and turned away. The Hermit continued. “Because that sounds to me like you were trying to help me and Marcos that sounds like living.”

“One final act doesn’t mean a thing.” I snapped and to my dismay the hermit chuckled. I rolled over and glanced at him. He was not looking at me and didn’t look at me and the chuckle ended quickly but in my mind it lasted much much longer.

He came over and handed me some soup. He did not say anything and we ate our soup in silence. Finally I could stand the silence no longer. I was not particularly curious but I said it to ease the silence. “Who are you?”

“I have no name.” He said calmly without looking up.

“Sounds like denial to me.” I said happy to use his own words against him.

He smiled at his soup and shook his head. “Unlike you I chose to give up my name. I live up here because I enjoy it.”

I studied him. “It brings you joy to be here alone?”

“Yes.”

He must have read my face because he smiled wider. “I am not crazy Marcos.” He said calmly. “Just old.”

“Fine.” I said stubbornly. “What was your name before you came here?”

He shrugged. “Can’t remember.”

I stared at him and slowly edged away. I’d heard enough stories about witch doctors to know this wasn’t a good sign. The hermit chuckled. “Don’t worry about magic Marcos, have you ever seen me do it?”

“No but the hole in my stomach and back are patched up.” I replied.

The hermit chuckled. “You do live to far from town boy. Ask any doctor and they’d have done the same thing.”

“You’re a doctor?” I asked.

He just shook his head in despair and said nothing for the rest of the night.

When he returned the next evening I was ready for him. “I need to call you something.” I said the moment he was in hearing range.

He raised an eyebrow. “You call me a lot of things under your breath Marcos, don’t your swear words suffice?”

I felt my face twinge red. I hadn’t known he could hear me. Or perhaps I hadn’t cared. I didn’t know what to say because I certainly wasn’t going to apologize.

The Hermit only smiled though and kept organizing new plants that he’d gathered for the day. I bit my tongue and tried to think this through. I don’t know why it bothered me to think that I was under the care of a nameless man but it did.

I was going to have to trick him into telling me something about himself that I could use to call him. And when he started to brew the bitter organic tea I knew what it was. Every night since I’d been here he’d fed me the brown bitter tea that made me gag. He claimed it would heal me faster than anything else would. And if I refused to drink it he would sit there until I had. I’d tried to hold out and not let him bother me but it was unnerving to have him sitting there staring me down. So I drank it unwillingly but quickly.

I knew he got a kick out of watching me drink the stuff. He brought it over for the night and handed it to me. I drank it quickly and then handed the cup back to him making the worst disgusted face I could. He grinned widely as I drank it and even more so when I was done.

“What’s in that any way?” I grumbled. “Skunk?”

He chuckled. “Hardly though that’s a good idea.” He walked back to the fire and I waited. I didn’t want to press him for an answer. When he glanced back he called over his shoulder “It’s Yarrow. It stops bleeding in the body and fights infection.”

I thought about the word Yarrow. It would have to do. “I’m going to call you Yarrow.” I told him. I watched his back stiffen as he turned around.

“What?” he asked raising an eye brow.

I tried to appeal to his better nature. “I need a name to call you, in case I start dying or something.”

“You want me to save you if you’re dying?” He asked slightly amused but still angry. I decided not to back track. I shrugged.

“Save me or watch me die.”

His eyes tightened to slights. “even as appealing as that would be I cannot allow you to give me a name.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because the moment you name something you limit it, and take away its potential.”

I stared at him. It was official he was nuts. Maybe I’d get an official declaration for him. Just like they’d gotten to burn down my house. I shoved that thought away determined to win this argument.

“I’m not limiting your potential.” I said as calmly as I could.

“Yes you are, you limit me to being Yarrow a very bitter plant.”

“It’s your own fault though.” I replied. “You’re the one who decided to save me. You’re the one who forces Yarrow down my throat each night and if you hadn’t done that I wouldn’t call you Yarrow, so you’ve brought down your own limitations on yourself.”

I regretted the logic the moment it came off my lips. He looked so angry standing there. He red veins on his forehead where thunking in and out, and his fists were digging into the inside of his arms. I was suddenly afraid that I’d said too much that he would leave and never come back. But he took several steps towards me and I was afraid that he was going to hurt me instead. He was supposedly “not” a witch doctor after all.

He leaned over me his face inches from mine. “I have no name.” He growled and spit flew over my face. Then he turned and marched back to the fire. I watched him and huddled down deeper into the blankets. Lunatic. I muttered under my breath.

“I heard that.” He snapped.

“Good.” I said back.