May

Issue 32

    Syllen swung around and punched Tanar as hard as he could.  Shaking all over, he clenched his teeth, face white.  Tanar fell over without a sound.  
    “Oh, crementia, what have I done.”  The anger vanished.  Syllen tried to imagine the things Tanar would do to him when he woke.  He kept anxious eyes on his fallen master, ready to bolt for safety when he stirred and woke.
    Wetness spread over the front of Tanar’s pants.  Syllen noticed his eyes.  For a moment he thought, hoped, that Tanar had just passed out with his eyes open and staring.  He managed to ignore the drop of blood that had slipped from Tanar’s ear.  
    The moment passed, Syllen covered his face with his hands.  He cried a little, shouted, beat his head with his fists.  It couldn’t be.  He was just tasting adulthood, and now he’d done this.  
    Bring in the animals, draw water for the night.  These tasks, urgent minutes before, now seemed trivial.  Syllen’s mind fought its way from the numbness of shock.  
    Andreh was due to pick up a basket of apricots in an hour or two.     That, at least, was the excuse.  Andreh would have stayed the night, drinking with Tanar.  This time, Syllen wouldn’t be cleaning vomit from the floor in the morning.  
    Syllen pictured himself explaining about the beatings, the abuse, the hungry nights.  Who would listen?  Seeing himself hanging from the judgement tree, he ran.  Through the golden fields of wheat he went, over the grassy plain, up the slope of the faraway hill.  He thought of Tanar’s bloated body, the face more grotesque in death than it had been in life.  He clutched at the sudden cramp in his stomach.  
    He forced his thoughts to his options.  Option, he corrected himself.  His only chance lay in Baneg.  From what he’d heard, one could lose one’s identity in the bustling streets there.  He’d never been to Baneg, but he knew it was to the east.  He kept the sun’s failing rays on his back.  
    Syllen had to rest.  He turned for a last backward look and gasped, fell flat on the ground.  No amount of air stilled his feeling of suffocation.  So soon?  He’d hoped for a bigger head start.
    From in front of the barn where Tanar’s body lay, a horseman looked straight at him.  It wasn’t Andreh.  He seemed to shine in the rays of the setting sun.  Syllen crouched even lower, feeling naked to the faraway eyes.  “I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, scrambled to his feet and ran on.