by Megaera
Sinbad had had every intention of making it to the other side of the forest by nightfall. Unfortunately, Firouz had sorely misjudged the size of not only the forest, but the entire island it seemed. A village should have existed on the other side of the island, but the crossing proved more treacherous than anyone had thought. While trying to cross a rock escarpment, the rocks had shifted under Sinbad's weight and dropped him over fifty feet to the forest floor beneath. His friends had nearly panicked when he hit the ground and lay completely motionless. Firouz had used his compass and tried to lead them down to their fallen leader, but he had only succeeded in getting them hopelessly lost.
Sinbad had awakened with a splitting headache and a throbbing pain that radiated through his whole body. He had looked up to where his crew had stood hours before, looking down. A pain shot from the back of his head through to his forehead. He raised one hand and touched a very tender spot on the back of his head. When he took his hand away, his fingers were covered in blood. He stood on weak, wobbling legs and grabbed onto a tree for support. He said a silent prayer that nothing seemed to be broken but with a sharp pain shooting down his neck and throughout his body, the thought wasn't as comforting as it might have been.
Eventually, the pain had dulled and he had begun walking to where he assumed the village would be. But even after the sun had set, Sinbad still walked. His thighs trembled with every step and he felt he would collapse if he couldn't stop soon... but where were his crew? Finally, his knees buckled and he hit the ground again. This time when the darkness came, he welcomed it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The four friends finally gave up and built a small fire. Their feet ached and they walked so slowly that they would've made easy prey for a large wild beast. On this star-filled night, they told no jokes. They barely spoke in fact. All minds fixated on the image of a long fall and a silent scream. The howls in the night told them the fire was a good idea. Dermott swooped from the sky and rested on Maeve's arm. He hadn't found their Captain.
"Don't worry." Maeve spoke quietly only to Dermott. "If he were dead, I'd know. I'd feel it." Dermott knew she spoke the truth. Some unexplained link existed between her and the handsome sailor. It was too bad Sinbad didn't realize it.
The night grew cold, the animals' howling grew louder and frenzy-filled, and everyone moved a little closer to the fire. They all let their thoughts drift to their lone Captain. He would have to find his own warmth this night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sinbad slowly got to his feet. His legs had cramped during the night and he could barely stand but he forced himself to stand and walk to stretch the tight muscles. Finally, he searched the early morning sky for the sun to guide him. When the brilliant light hit his eyes, the throbbing in his head increased ten-fold. He braced himself against a wave of dizziness and then shook it off and began trekking west, towards where Firouz had insisted a village was located.
He hadn't gone far when a sound overhead caught his attention. His eyes turned upward and he glimpsed a silhouette of a feminine form and distinct wings. Sinbad groaned inwardly, "Cursed harpies," he whispered, searching the ground. He found a large rock and heaved it at the figure. He heard a thud and a cry and the creature fell to the ground. Trying to ignore the pounding in his head and moving quite slowly, Sinbad made his way to where the creature had fallen.
Sinbad came upon the form of a young woman in a white gown. White, feathered wings had folded delicately against her back, but they vanished so quickly Sinbad doubted he'd truly seen them at all. She held her head as she sat up. Sinbad approached with reluctance. This was no harpy. The young woman had pale blonde hair and a petite stature. She was beautiful but Sinbad still gazed questioningly at her, recalling the momentary vision of an angel.
She stood finally and turned to him, giving him an encouraging smile. "Well, nothing broken so I guess there was no harm done except..." She pulled up her long skirt and pointed to a grass stain. She looked at the dazed Captain and offered a gentle smile, saying, "But nothing more so I'd say we're doing just fine." That relentless dizziness passed over Sinbad and he dropped to his knees, his head in his hands. "Well, I'm doing fine anyway," she joked, kneeling beside him and draping one arm across his broad shoulders. She felt a fever boiling in his blood and she saw the dark stains on his shirt at the base of his neck. Dried blood caked the back of his head and its trails were evident down his neck. He definitely needed her help.
Eventually, the dizziness subsided enough for him to regain his feet and he turned to her, taking in her pale blue eyes and the delicate curves of her cheeks. "Who are you?" he managed weakly. His hand touched the back of his head where a merciless pain remained. His eyes shut when he felt the large knot and the wound. He tugged his hair a little to cover the injury and then dropped his hand to his side.
"My name is Amadea," she said. "I came to guide you to your friends." She smiled so sweetly Sinbad felt his heart melt. So his friends had found the village and sent this lovely young woman to find him, he thought. He'd have to thank them a thousand times. He didn't consider the unlikeliness of such an event; he merely accepted her dainty hand and let her lead him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They walked in silence for over an hour before Amadea noticed her companion's limp icy hand in hers and she turned. She noted the faint flush to his cheeks and the sightless stare in his glazed eyes. She took his face in her hands and he barely acknowledged her touch. She felt a deep burning under his skin as he swayed. She heard a tiny moan as his eyelids closed heavily and his full weight fell against her shoulder.
She let her knees buckle and the two fell to the ground. She let her body break his fall and then she carefully rolled him off of her. "Poor Captain," she said softly, straightening his shirt and vest and brushing back fine locks of golden-bronze hair off his heated forehead. "Where was your guardian angel when you took your fall? Off dancing in sunlight and high, sweet-smelling grasses," she whispered.
Amadea stood and walked a few steps and a clear stream rushed before her. She tore a section of cloth from her dress near the hem and wet it in the clear cool water. Then she returned to Sinbad's side. She lifted his head and saw an ugly wound bleeding into his hair and down the back of his neck. She knew the wound was infected and that the infection had caused his fever. She also knew she could help him. She pressed the damp cloth to the wound, feeling him wince slightly then relax into unconsciousness.
When she removed the cloth, the wound had vanished. She pressed the cloth to his cheeks and forehead and felt his burning skin cool under her touch. "Your guardian angel will never forget you again," she whispered. Then she stood and left him to rest on the soft grass.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Consciousness returned slowly. Sinbad found himself lying on the forest floor and searched his mind for the events that had led to his situation. The circumstances came back to him moment by moment and he remembered the young woman who had come to lead him to his friends. He sat slowly and was relieved when the expected dizziness didn't overcome him. His eyes panned the area nearby and he finally saw her. He stood, amazed by the ease with which his muscles responded, no stiffness or soreness anywhere.
He saw Amadea sitting between two large roots of a tree. He approached her slowly. Her head was bowed down and she appeared to working something with her hands. He was nearly upon her when he realized that she was lacing pale blue wildflowers together, forming a chain as children do. She was completely engrossed in the activity, just as small children become. Her hands moved carefully, precisely twisting each stem around the others. Sinbad couldn't help but smile as he noticed the flowers already around her neck and woven through her long blonde hair. 'She must've been doing this for hours,' he thought.
He watched her carefully weave together the ends of the short chain she worked, forming a circle. She glanced up at him suddenly and he felt a bit guilty for not having spoken. All traces of guilt left him when she smiled and stood up, taking the ring of flowers in both hands and raising it above his head. She set it on his head and arranged it just so, tugging a few strands of his hair over it to hold it in place. "Awake at last," she said, her hands sliding over his cheeks before dropping to her sides. "Come, my King," she giggled, with a tiny curtsy, "let us away."
She held out her hand and Sinbad laughed as he took it. She seemed exactly like a young child, laughing at the rest of the world for all their seriousness. His free hand touched the wildflowers that circled his head like a crown, or a halo. How strange that such tiny delicate things could seem so important. Maybe it wasn't so much the flowers as her presentation of them. The way she had raised them as though they were truly a golden, jewel-encrusted crown. The way she had arranged them to fit on his head just perfectly. So like a child to give such importance to flowers.
He trailed after her, absolutely trusting that she knew where the village lie. He paid no mind to where they went, only watching the breeze blow her pale hair and the tiny blue flowers woven through it. Sinbad felt a light euphoria and couldn't help but wonder if any of this was real or if Amadea and the wildflowers were just a part of some fever dream that haunted him. Or perhaps she was real and had drugged him and his willing trust was an effect of the drug. But why trouble the mind with such thoughts when beauty surrounds you?
Sinbad took to watching the brilliant green of the trees they passed. He noted the variation of color in each flower. Some had a brilliant yellow color and others were pale pink. How strange that they should reside so near each other, being so different. His eyes drank in every faint detail of the natural surroundings and in no time, Amadea led him out of the woods and they stood atop a hill looking down at a small village.
"Here is where we part," Amadea said, turning to him and taking both his hands. She brought each one to lips and lightly kissed his knuckles. "It's been an honor, my King." Her eyes brightened when he smiled and laughed at her endearing title. She dropped his hands and turned, vanishing into the deep woodlands in an instant. As the last bit of her white dress faded into the deep green, Sinbad felt suddenly vulnerable. He quickly walked down the hill to the village.
Relief flooded over him when his friends, led by his brother ran towards him. "Where have you been, little brother?" Doubar asked, only the slightest hint of anger slipping through the relief in each word.
"We found a way down the rockfall but when we got to where you fell, you were gone," Maeve said in a rush.
"We kept wondering until we found the village and we hoped you'd find it the same way," Firouz said. "We hoped you weren't badly hurt from the fall."
"It sure scared us though when you didn't move any," Maeve interjected.
"You aren't hurt, are you?" Doubar interrupted, concern echoing in his voice.
"Well, I hit my head," Sinbad said, one hand touching the back of his head. Firouz instantly touched the spot where Sinbad's hand indicated and found only a slight swelling. "But I'm fine," Sinbad continued. "This woman came to bring me here. It was sure smart of you to send her because I don't think I'd have found..."
"What woman?" Maeve snapped.
"Amadea," Sinbad answered before continuing, "I mean, she was heaven sent, I'm sure of it. She somehow healed me and she knew exactly where to find the village and..."
"Was she pretty?" Maeve interrupted again.
"She was... exquisite," Sinbad said, his eyes glazing over and his voice growing faint. "Like a grown child. As beautiful as any women, but with all the innocence of a tiny baby. All-knowing and yet completely mesmerized by each moment in time."
Firouz noticed the questioning in Doubar's, Maeve's, and Rongar's eyes. He lightly touched Sinbad's forehead, feeling only the faintest warmth, but he shook his head, rolling his eyes at the same time. He cut off Sinbad's reverie, saying, "We didn't send anyone to find you. You know, you took quite a fall. Maybe you just imagined this incredible woman."
"No," Sinbad argued, "I didn't imagine her. She was real and she gave me these flowers..." His hands came up to where the ring of wildflowers had been but they were gone.
"Uh-huh," Firouz said, nodding. "You should rest. You must've hit your head really hard."
"But I had them," Sinbad mumbled, letting Firouz lead him to the inn where the rest of them had stayed the previous night. "She wove together these tiny little blue flowers and then she put them on my head. She called me her King."
The four stifled their laughter, keeping their amusement to themselves. "Boy, Sinbad has such an active imagination," Maeve whispered to Doubar and Rongar, who nodded in agreement, still holding in their laughter, while Sinbad went on about the mysterious woman he called Amadea.
THE END