The Roaming Sea - 12. Brookside, Pt. 3

Callum woke to the sight of early morning fog. The grey mist partially obscured indefinite layers of treetops, their edges blurring the farther they stood. Gentle, deep breaths from behind told him Rym was still asleep. They were lying on their sides beneath a blanket with Rym’s thick arm across Callum, holding him protectively close. With each breath, the pactrid’s chest against his back had rocked Callum gently to sleep.

Rym’s trunk lay atop the blanket. Callum could feel the weight of it, hear the cyclical passing of air as Rym breathed. He found it fascinating, and more than once, he longed to touch it. But he didn’t want to offend Rym. After all, Callum wasn’t sure how he’d react if someone touched his nose in a curious manner, though the idea of it brought an involuntary chuckle, and his quavering woke Rym.

“I’m sorry,” Callum said, trying to control his laughter. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rym grunted. “Why do you laugh?”

I want to touch your nose. He didn’t dare say it. Maybe one day he’d work up the nerve to ask. “It’s nothing. Just a funny thought.” Callum wriggled free from Rym’s warm embrace and braced himself for the cold air beyond the confines of their blanket. “You try to get more sleep. I’ll be back later.”

Rym grunted again, pulling the blanket tight around him, then turned away from the light of the morning. Even as a giant lump under the blanket, Callum couldn’t help feel drawn toward Rym. A smile broke across his face, and his heart fluttered with the knowledge they’d be travelling together.

Pulling his gaze free, he regarded the village in the distance. A few shapes milled within the fog—village folk who were early risers. He joined them, delivering hushed greetings as they passed. Arriving at Delores’ home, he gave the door a gentle knock.

“Hello?” Delores’ voice flowed from within. “Come in.”

Upon seeing Callum’s face, she offered a sly smile. “I was hoping it was you.” She gestured to a pot sitting atop the stove. “Tea?”

Callum nodded. “Stay seated. I’ll help myself.”

She sipped from her mug, eyes watching expectantly while he poured some tea and then sat down at the table.

“So?” she said, prompting him to begin.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Let’s begin with that smile on your face.”

Only then did Callum register he was beaming, and he covered his mouth with a hand. “He makes me feel good.”

“You said you were friends, but there’s clearly more to this story. How did you meet that giant? And how did you two get so . . . familiar?”

Callum smirked at her subtle word choice. “If you can believe it, he was my captor. I ran into him after surviving the transport accident.”

Her eyes shifted to doubt. “How does one go from captor to lover?”

Is Rym my lover? That word felt inadequate to describe their relationship, but he wasn’t about to point out that fact. She’d only want more specifics—details he couldn’t give. “Travelling to the gotachi took a few days. During that time, we slowly learnt more about each other. And by the time he delivered me, there was this spark between us.”

Delores smiled warmly. “A good end to a terrible start.”

“There’s something I’ll admit that troubles me, though. These feelings I have for him—they feel wrong. Even though I love being with him, he’s a pactrid.”

Her brows knit together, perplexed by his statement. “Why should that matter?”

“My entire life, I was told pactrids were our enemy, so why am I attracted to him? The first time we met, he beat me unconscious.”

Delores straightened in her chair. “He doesn’t still hit you, does he?”

He hurriedly raised his hands to dismiss such a horrid thought. “No! Of course not. In fact, he keeps apologising for it. But that doesn’t change the fact our first meeting was violent. His treatment of me while travelling was gruff, and most of my time was spent planning how to escape. Yet, by the end of our journey, I longed to be in his arms. Doesn’t that sound wrong to you?”

Her expression only filled him with more doubt. “There must have been a turning point in your relationship. Can you recall anything?”

Callum scoured his mind for any moment of time where his feelings toward Rym had shifted. “The last night we spent together, at an inn. He did this thing to me. There’s a word for it, but I can’t remember it now. He said all pactrids have the ability to share their memories through touch.”

“I’m aware of it, but never spoken to anyone who’s experienced it. He did that to you?”

Callum nodded. “He showed me the mountains bordering our lands with theirs, and the devastation we caused by harvesting all their trees. It was terrible. When he finished, I found I’d been crying.”

Delores looked at him with a shrewd expression. “Well, that would explain everything, don’t you think?”

“But what if his touch changed me somehow? The colonel I’d reported to said something about forced suggestion.”

She shook her head. “Scaremongering fools. No, if you’re saying that interaction was the spark that changed everything, it makes sense. He shared a painful moment, and your tears told him you understood.”

Is it that simple? Callum felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but a part of him worried he was deluding himself.

Delores caught the conflict in his eyes. “How you met this pactrid and how you came to fall for each other—I won’t deny, it’s unusual. But that can also make it special, Callum. A tempered love borne of fire.”

“I don’t know if it’s love. I care deeply for him, but we barely know each other.”

“Love is simply a word to describe the indescribable. Just enjoy each other.”

Callum nodded resolutely. “I will. Thank you, Delores. I appreciate your sage words.”

She slapped his hand playfully. “Sage words? You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not. You’ve helped me more than you know.”

A dubious grunt rattled in her throat as she regarded him with narrow eyes.

“Now,” Callum continued, “I need to tell you the actual reason I came this morning. Rym and I—we’re leaving.”

Delores gave him a knowing nod. “After your amorous reunion yesterday afternoon, I suspected as much.” She let out a sigh. “We’ll be sorry to see you go. You’ll be living in a pactrid town or village?”

“A village.” Callum hated to lie, but Rym’s logic to keep the details confidential was sound.

“Maybe you could visit us?”

Callum’s eyes fell to his mug. “It’s . . . quite far away. I won’t be coming back.”

“Oh.” The regret in her voice was palpable. “When will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“So soon? You leave us no time to celebrate your departure, give you a proper sendoff.”

Callum’s hands shot up in pleading. “Please, I don’t need anything special. I plan on visiting everyone today—tell them the news and say goodbye.”

“That’s fine, but that’s not going to stop me from planning something.”

“Please, no.”

Delores stared him down with a devious smile on her lips. “You’ve no choice in the matter. Now, I have a parting gift for you.”

“What? A gift? How? I literally just told you.”

She went to the kitchen and opened a drawer. “Okay, not so much a gift. More like tools you’ll sorely need.” She returned with a fork, a knife, and a spoon.

“I don’t understand,” Callum said.

Opening his hand and placing the utensils there, she said, “A pactrid village won’t have human-sized cutlery.”

Those words evoked a memory when he had to eat with his hands while at the pactrid inn. He burst out laughing at the image in his mind. “You’re so thoughtful, Delores. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she replied with her familiar warm smile. “Now, get out. My day just got busy.”

After gulping down his remaining tea, Callum’s next objective was to catch his housemates, Frederick and Timm, before they left home for the day. He found them both enjoying their breakfast, and he shared the news, making it clear he wouldn’t be returning.

Frederick rose from his seat and grabbed the spare bow and quiver he owned—the same set he’d lent Callum earlier while training him to shoot. “Take it.”

“I can’t accept this. It’s yours.”

Frederick pushed it against Callum’s chest, urging him to take it. “It’s yours now, Callum.”

“But I’m terrible with it.”

“And you’ll never get better if you don’t continue practising,” Frederick replied with a grin. “I told you before—there’s latent talent hiding in you. Just keep at it, yeah?”

Callum gave him a hug. “I will. Thanks, Frederick.”

Upon breaking their embrace, big Timm appeared looming beside them. In many ways, he reminded Callum of his friend, Oren. It wasn’t only his size, but his rough demeanour, too. That reminder was bittersweet, though. Oren’s death, and not being able to attend his funeral—to grant a proper goodbye—would always leave a hole in his heart.

“Don’t I get a hug too?” Timm asked.

Before Callum could reply, the burly farmer grabbed him into a bear hug and pulled him off his feet. Callum found himself unable to breathe until the big man was satisfied and settled him back onto his feet.

“So, you and a ’trid, huh?” Timm drawled, adding a lewd chuckle. “What’s that like?”

“An interesting pairing, I’ll give you that,” Frederick chimed in with a confounded look.

“I know it’s weird,” Callum said, trying to hide his blushing cheeks, “but he makes me happy.”

Timm laid a heavy hand on Callum’s shoulder, offering a crooked grin. “S’all that matters, I guess.”

They left the house together. Callum wished them a good day and let them know Delores was planning a farewell party. The fog was dissipating with the rising sun, revealing a growing band of villagers socialising before heading to work. Those who passed by said they were looking forward to Delores’ party that evening. Word really did travel fast here.

The morning was spent purchasing supplies using the pactrid currency he’d acquired during his brief time in Brookside. Dried meat wrapped in cloth, hardtack, as well as some waxed cheese for a treat. Knowing Rym had his own large rucksack now, he wasn’t overly concerned about the extra weight. From the doctor, he procured gauze, bandages, and a bottle of ointment for wounds. While his recent travels hadn’t resulted in any accidents, it was only a matter of time before an injury would befall them. Having the tools of his trade at hand—even these simple items—went a long way to feeling better prepared for anything.

Carrying a small crate containing his goods, he returned to find Rym at their camp, organising his own inventory. Callum emptied the contents of his own rucksack beside Rym’s items, allowing them to plan how to repack their goods in the most efficient manner. Spare clothing was washed and left to dry in the breeze.

By mid-afternoon, everything was ready for their departure. They sat together on the ground, their backs against a large tree, enjoying its shade. Knowing they’d have to wait until the next morning felt like some kind of punishment to Callum. He was raring to go—surprised by the novel pent-up excitement flowing through him. Awakening something he’d never knew existed.

Rym could clearly sense this, stating, “After a few days on the road, you’ll learn to appreciate this village and a roof over your head.”

Callum chuckled. “I know, but part of it is knowing you’ll be with me. And crossing the sea? That’s something I wanted to do when I was a child.”

“Curious. Why?”

“I wanted to get away from the pactrids and the war. How ironic that, instead, I’m running away from my own kind with a pactrid.”

Rym regarded him with a sombre glimpse from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry it came to this—that you were forced to leave your home. None of this would’ve happened had we never met.”

Laying a hand on Rym’s thigh, Callum said, “I don’t even want to contemplate what my life would be like without you. I’m happy we met.”

Rym’s massive hand covered Callum’s. “It gladdens me as well.”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t easy at first. After leaving Anbera, I feared what was to come. But at the same time, I’m surprised how quickly I’ve come to terms with everything. But what about you? You’re leaving your home. That must be hard for you, too.”

“I’m a scout. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to have a place to call home.” He gestured to the trees. “This is my home. All of it. And when we reach the land beyond the sea, that will be my new home . . . our new home.”

Callum leaned over and rested against Rym. The pactrid wrapped his arm around him, holding him tight. Nothing felt more right than this.

As the afternoon wore on, a hubbub of activity grew along the grassy avenue between the two rows of houses. Callum looked on, filled with embarrassment they’d go through so much trouble for someone who’d just arrived in their village, only to leave soon after. There was no doubt he’d miss them. Never had he felt so accepted.

Two bonfires were lit near sundown. The children gathered, circling the growing flames with excited hoots of joy. Smaller cookfires scattered along the promenade wafted the smell of mouthwatering, savoury meats.

“I think we’ve held out as long as possible,” Callum muttered. “We should join in.”

He supposed the gathering could be seen as an excuse for the villagers to have a good time and enjoy each other’s company as well. Callum took the lead with Rym looming in his wake. Once again, he was hit by a sudden wave of safety and security, sensing the hulking pactrid at his back. There was nothing to fear here, of course, but once in the wilderness, having Rym nearby was reassuring. A cheer grew from the crowd as they emerged from the gloom. Both Callum and Rym bestowed wide smiles and waved in greeting, giving their humble thanks for such an honourable farewell.

Over the course of the evening, villagers bid them personal goodbyes. Many also spoke to Rym directly, showcasing the language lessons Callum had given them. Even in the short time together, they’d shown great promise and willingness to learn. A pang of regret burnt within Callum, knowing he’d be abandoning their tutelage. And with the knowledge of the impending change—a grand exodus from this land—he understood the importance of humans learning the pactrid language. Perhaps once the entire populace had made the journey across the sea, humans and pactrids would live closer together—learning to speak both languages fluently. A whimsical notion, certainly, but still an aspiration worth aiming for.

As the celebration fell to a natural close, Callum felt the need to address the crowd. What he wanted was a stage or raised platform, but nothing of the kind existed here.

“Excuse me,” he said, rather timorously. No one heard him over the din, so he cleared his throat and tried again with more vigour. “Excuse me!”

A trumpeting call blasted out, cutting through the roar of the crowd and echoed out across the treetops. Callum nearly lost his balance from the fright of it—hit by flashes of grim memories. Vicious assaults, screaming, blood and broken bodies. The crowd reacted in kind, stunned to silent shock. Only the crackle of bonfires and a few children falling to tears could be heard.

Callum turned to Rym. “Why did you do that?” he stammered.

Rym, mouth agape, stared out at the crowd in disbelief and confusion. He held out his hands in apology. “You were— I was only attempting to gain their attention.”

Letting out a long sigh, Callum turned toward the crowd. “I’m sorry. Rym doesn’t understand how much we fear that sound. What it means to us. He was only trying to help me get everyone’s attention.”

After a prolonged pause, someone replied, “Well, it worked,” punctuated with a nervous laugh.

That acted as a panacea to soften the blow Rym had dealt. Waves of tense laughter rose from the villagers, accompanied by huffs of relief. Callum glanced back to find Rym fallen to his knees, head sunken in shame.

“It was an honest mistake,” Callum said to him. “I never told you what the pactrid call means to us. On the battlefield, it means death.”

Crushing realisation dawned on Rym’s face. “I’m sorry. Please tell them I didn’t mean to frighten them.”

“I already did. They understand that wasn’t your intent.”

The villagers observed the interaction, certainly noting Rym’s distress. They likely understood parts of the conversation.

“Look at the poor big guy,” someone said woefully, and then continued in the pactrid language, “Please do not sadness.”

Despite the poor grammar, the message was clear. Rym observed the villagers’ faces. Their fear had evaporated, replaced by worry for Rym’s distress.

“I just frightened you,” Rym said, “yet you show concern for me?” Wanting to be sure Rym was properly understood, Callum translated for the crowd as the pactrid continued. “You humans fascinate me. Some of your kind are capable of such terror, yet you, who stand before me, have only welcomed me with kindness and acceptance.”

Delores emerged from the throng, approaching Rym with a smile. “For so long, we believed pactrids were monsters. But your kind showed us the truth, and for that, we are thankful. Yet despite the terrible things we’ve done to your kind and your land, you still ungrudgingly accept humans here—allowing us to live our lives in relative peace. The kindness and acceptance we’ve given you today is merely a looking glass toward the pactrids. We learnt it from you, and we will be eternally grateful.”

As if on cue, the crowd cheered and applauded the pactrid. Delores urged Rym to stand, then returned to the crowd to join them in their revelry. Flickers of light from the bonfires revealed the rims of the pactrid’s eyes were wet, but he wiped those budding tears away before they could form.

Once the cheering had died down, Rym addressed them again. “While you have only known Callum for a short while—as I have—there was something special that attracted him to me.” Callum couldn’t help but blush as he translated. “Now, I see many of those qualities in all of you. A part of me is saddened that I am taking him away from your village. But I must admit, there’s a selfish part of me glad not to share.”

This brought a rumble of laughter from the villagers.

“To be clear,” Callum interjected with a grin, “he’s not forcing me anywhere. I’m going with him willingly.”

Timm’s unmistakable voice stood out from the crowd. “You just want that pactrid dick!”

The crowd broke out in astonished hysterics. The laughter was innocuous, but that did nothing to stop Callum’s face from turning a deep red at the joke. He could’ve tried to explain sex with Rym was the last thing on his mind, but his words would’ve fallen to deaf ears. He decided to let them believe what they wanted. It made no difference to him.

Rym looked to Callum, puzzled by the uproar.

“A rude joke I’m not going to repeat,” Callum said. He then turned to speak to the crowd. “Thanks, Timm, for sharing your . . . umm, thoughts.”

“Happy to serve, my friend,” Timm called out, causing another ripple of chuckles from the group.

“Seriously, though. Thank you again, everyone, for everything you’ve done for me during my time here. I won’t ever forget you.”

The mass of villagers joyfully circled around Callum and Rym, almost like a group hug of a hundred people. For Callum, this moment was bittersweet. He never knew such a life of joy could be possible, and yet he was walking away from it eagerly. For all the happiness this village could provide, it was but a speck compared to Rym’s touch.