Walking the Ruins

Burning antiques, and an elastic heart

I set up my night camp in the room with the fireplace while Jenny and Steve will sleep in the chamber next to it. They will have each other to keep warm while I'll snuggle up to the embers.

So it goes.

I have already lit the fire, and now I feed its hungry flames with wood from ruined pieces of furniture. All of them antiques, I am sure. In my old world, they would have been priceless, and burning them would have been a sacrilege. But times are changing, and nowadays everything is an antique. And the guild of historians and archeologists has ceased to exist, I guess. 

I put another ornately carved leg, likely the last of its kind and probably from a table, into the flames and shrug.

Steve and Jenny are sitting next to me, and we are eating the provisions that we took along from home. Dinner consists of carrots, dried fruit, dried meat, and something as hard as stone that Rose insists on calling bread.

"Tomorrow, we can travel another one or two kilometers by boat," Steve explains, "then we've got to continue on foot." Fulfilling his duties as the alpha male, he has climbed one of the towers while the sun was still shining, in a quest to inspect the lands and waters ahead of us.

"Have you seen anything of interest?" I ask, assuming that he would already have reported any newsworthy piece of information upon his return, but one never knows.

"Nope," he answers, shaking his head. "But the view wasn't that good."

"Hey, I've got a surprise for you!" Jenny remarks and starts rummaging in her backpack. She pulls out a little bottle. "Give me your cups. Kevin gave me something to keep us company... in cold nights."

"Firewater!" Steve exclaims. This is one of Kevin's latest inventions. In the rubble of an old house, he found a stainless steel still, a device for distilling. He spent hours to make it work. Now he keeps fermenting an obnoxious broth, and I refuse to learn what's in it. But when he runs that broth through his machine, the result is a clear, highly flammable liquor that brings tears to any decent human being.

Jenny pours some of the unholy liquid into our cups. I drink carefully and immediately feel the stuff burning its way to my stomach, like a steam train bound for hell. After some sips, I start to relax.

Later, I stand beside the fireplace, the other two watching me. I am surprised that I can stand straight.

"Listen!" I say. Then I begin to sing.

Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart,

But your blade—it might be too sharp

I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard,

Yeah, I may snap, and I move fast

But you won't see me fall apart

'Cause I've got an elastic heart

I've got an elastic heart!

I've got an elastic heart!

I am surprised that I still remember the words of this song, a song that probably has not been sung for hundreds of years. But sometimes, alcohol helps.

Steve and Jenny look at me, agape. Then they break into applause.

"Better'n the original," Steve concedes, his voice slurry, and Jenny agrees.

Exhausted, I sit down again and take another sip of firewater.

"Oh man, I'm sooo tired," Jenny says and rests her head against Steve's shoulder.

"OK, let's go to bed," replies Steve, moving his hand through her elfish hair. He rises, wobbling only slightly, and helps Jenny to get up. He locks eyes with me while trying to find his balance. "Oh, dearest Leona. You're the best bard in our court... or troubadour? Or chantrix? ... whatever! Please accept our since... sincerest thanks! We... your majesties... we will now retire to our chambers. And you...," he gestures towards me, a motion nearly toppling him over, "... you're dismissed for the evening. Until... tomorrow, when you may serve us our breakfast."

He turns, too quickly, nearly losing his balance, but Jenny manages to save him from gracelessly hitting the ground. He stumbles through the door while she looks back at me, hesitating.

"Jenny ... you're coming?" His words from their room are blurred with the effects of the firewater.

She eyes me and opens her mouth as if to say something.

I burp, ogling her in drink-induced stupor, waiting.

"Jenny?" Steve's voice has an unpleasant, self-pitying whine to it.

She closes her mouth, presses her lips together, and lifts both eyebrows. Then she gives me a little wave and heads off.

The alcohol is dancing like a jinn on my synapses. His words of farewell resonate in my head—you're dismissed for the evening. Until... tomorrow, when you may serve us our breakfast. They take a long time to reach the little part of my brain that still makes an effort to hold things together. But once they reach it, they start running in circles until I recognize the darkness within them. And then they settle—like a black, suffocating shroud over my soul.

The sun is rising when I leave the castle. The night was short, and I found little sleep. My head feels as if someone bangs a hammer against it, in tune with my heartbeat.

Before I left, I had a look into the majesties' chamber. Steve was snoring, and the only thing I saw of Jenny was a nest of blond hair.

I load one-third of the provisions and my pack into the canoe. Then I untie and board it, wondering if the wobbly feeling comes from the boat's rocking or from yesterday's drinking—maybe both. I grab a paddle and cross the channel to the mainland. Once there, I moor the boat to a tree, well within sight of the castle. Steve needs a bath anyway. It will do him no harm to swim to retrieve the canoe.

Looking around, I get my bearings. Then I walk off into the forest.

The majesties will have to prepare their breakfast themselves. I'm not their servant.

They can do whatever they want. I don't care. I just want to be away from them.