Elysium. Part One. Read Free

conversation with Reighn and Dawn Corbin.
      She stood quietly for a moment and collected herself, and then turned quickly – she had heard her name being whispered sharply and had the impression that it hadn’t been the first time, though in her dissociation she’d failed to notice the voice was directed at her.
      The whisperer was Boen Waeshenbach, the fisherman’s son. He was a year younger than Eryn, though they had both been schooled together. He was a loner and, as most would happily concur, a comprehensive waste of space.  He spent his evenings at the bar trying to engage her in inane conversation. It was obvious he desired her, whether physically or to a deeper extent she didn’t care to know, and though there was nothing tangibly unattractive about him – she had always thought he had nice, if somewhat plain, features; he reminded her of her father in so much as he lied when there was no reason to. It seemed as though if there was a silence, he would fill it with some cock-and-bull tale about nothing in particular.
      Tonight, however, she wasn’t in the mood for it.
      ‘I’m busy, Boen.’ She said with a sniff.
      ‘You look rough, are you Ok?’ He leaned on the bar.
     Instead of answering she poured him a pint and passed it to him. She wrapped one thin arm around herself, and wiped her sore eyes with the other.
      ‘I saw something the other night.’ He said hoarsely. Eryn rolled her eyes.
      ‘I don’t think I can take this today, Boen.’
      ‘What d’you mean?’
      ‘I’m not in the mood for your lies, that’s what I mean.’
      He was quiet for a moment while Tinder North came to the bar, winked at him and walked away with a pint.
      Boen was frowning at Eryn. ‘I’m serious!’ he said, sternly.
      ‘What! What did you see then?’
      ‘Someone running out of Kelly’s place the night he died.’
      Eryn thought she would scream. She flushed with rage, but instead of unleashing her fury she trembled with anger. Boen couldn’t help but see.
      ‘I mean it! Don’t get pissed off.’
      ‘You saw someone running away? Really! And you didn’t think to mention it until now?’
      Boen’s cheeks coloured. ‘It was…’
      ‘Get out, Boen.’ Eryn whispered curtly, her tone stoic.
      His mouth hung open, about to resist, but her eyes were empty of compromise and he left.
    *
      Jasmine Sooth knelt at the hearth in her cottage. With twilight handing the day to night it was permissible to light fires, and she sighed relief to be able to finally boil some water. She began piling the logs beside the grate before placing a flame to the tinder in the cast-iron fireplace. It took a few moments, and then a rich blaze licked and took hold of the fragile kindling. Carefully placing the firewood in the grate she stood and returned to her comfy chair, a mass of throws and blankets, before stopping at the window. Lifting the heavy black curtain slightly she looked towards the rising cliffs, and stared for a moment at the summit.
      It was cloudy, and the wind was churning it angrily. A gust rattled the blossoming trees in the garden and sent a whistling draft through the kitchen. The chimney groaned mournfully.
      ‘Benjamin,’ she called, her voice mellifluous. Instantly she heard her son’s feet on the floorboards above, and a few moments later he was pounding down the first few steps of the staircase. He remained at the top, and ducked between the banisters. ‘yeah, ma?’
      ‘Stay in tonight,’ she said, turning back to the window as a hail of pink blossom whipped passed the frame.
      He stood, and was about to go - then ducked again, ‘Why?’
      Jasmine remained quiet for a moment, and then turned back to him. ‘Something’s coming… the wind’s picking up.’
      Benjamin bit his bottom lip, and then returned to his room.
    *
      The atmosphere in the Smuggler’s Rest was wearying, as were the coals in the hearth. Most villagers had left