Amelia

Amelia

by Versusterminus7

Chapter 1: Wake Up and Forget

It was an incredible release, and I simply can't describe it any other way. A climax, perhaps... but one that lasts a bit longer. Everything was... white. White hot. I realize that I'm biting my lip and it's starting to hurt... but I don't care. It just feels... good. Damn good. Suddenly, quickly as it came, it's gone. I'm saddened, I suppose. What was it?

            I'm too afraid to open my eyes, like I'll start falling. Or dying. Maybe even living. But I already know I'm there and that I'm not dead. Right?

            My feet feel like cool. I wiggle my toes and realize that they're in water... up to my knees. It's cool, pleasant. Almost unworldly. Unwittingly, I open my eyes, one at first, then the second, only to see the rushing water and a wavering image of my feet in the water, so much like the air in the skin-callousing desert. Air currents cause that, if I remember correctly. Remember. Remember. Remember what?

            I take a step forward, feeling the cool again rush through my body. It's when I feel a slight tug on my shoulder that I realize that I'm holding something, and that I'm carrying a pack. The thing I carry is a torch, lit up as bright as can be. Why do I have it? I don't remember lighting it... My eyes slowly scan the world around me- thanks to the light of the torch, it's quite dark out. It takes me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the bright light, now that I'm aware of it. The first thing that I notice is the water I'm standing it: it's running. Not very quickly, but moving nonetheless. Even with the movement, I can see that the water is going to my left... I even realize that it's slow enough for me to make out an image.

            Red. I have red hair. Well, I could've figured that one out just by looking. But shouldn't that've been known already? I treated it like it was new, or that it somehow was something novel, an idea that's never been done. But I have red hair. That is so cool.

            What color are my eyes? Even with the pristine mirror, I can't tell. By Ymir's beard, I can't say. I can't remember.

Remember.

            I can't even remember things about myself.

            Physical things are obvious: I can feel and touch and smell and taste and see and hear... but what's my name?

            Who am I, exactly?

            I couldn't tell you, even if I tried. I won't lie to you and tell you that I broke down and wept or something, but I won't tell you I was ok with it, either. It's just, you know, strange. I don't remember who I am, so how could I weep for myself? It's like hearing about someone's death, someone that you never knew.

            Someone you never knew.

            No point in dwelling! I need to find my bearings... just where in all of creation am I? I know I'm in a river, but where am I about? Behind me, I see, a glimmering, much like the air currents- no, almost a memory. For an instant, I see home, wherever that is. It's golden, and there are flowing hills and rolling rivers, children laughing and old men and women cackling. When I blink, the image is gone, but the memory stays there. It's still there, I imagine, but just hiding from me. Maybe it doesn't want me here.

            I turn round, facing where I originally was- stalactites and stalagmites loom over and below me menacingly, for which I don't know why. It's a rocky cave, filled with holes and crevices from what I see. It's gloomy. Dark. Dank. Dangerous. It gives me the creeps... for good reason. Scanning the room, without moving a toe, I spot an exit. Or an entrance... I don't know which.

            It's just a hole in the blued stone wall. Craggy and igneous, little bubbles forming tiny homes for tiny particles. I can tell, even from here. It's not more than two or three... grynocs? Grynocs. Right. Grynocs. Two or three grynocs. I can walk there, I realize. With no effort, but still having that euphoric feeling, I put a foot forward, but feel... unbalanced. My body shifts, but it's too late: I perceived the motion of the bag of leather on my hip.

            I don't remember carrying it before. Remember. Remember.

            Remember what? I wonder what's inside it.

I AM INSIDE!

            With a tenderness of a mother, the laces that bind the pack shut come undone between my fingers, so much like a caress. The leather besides is stiff, save for the laces and loop that held them, cracked and oiled. Smooth. Well-worn. The flap opens, and moving the torch a little, I can peer inside.

         It looked like any other miscellany you might find in a sack- I took out of the bag three yellow coins- gold. Gold coins. The inscription on the coin looked like a beautiful woman clothed in flowing robes. Below is… a word in a language I don’t understand- they look like little buildings. I put them in the bag- as to where I am, I don’t think these will be of much use. Another item is something soft wrapped in a cloth- my nose is engulfed with a sweet, lovely smell- it’s cake. White cake. Out of curiosity, I pluck a small piece off and pop it in my mouth- delicious. I haven’t had cake this delicious since… well, I don’t remember. I wrap up the cake again- that, unlike the coins, will be useful here- at least until it runs out.

         I set it back, and take out the next mystery piece- it’s smooth like stone, pleasant to touch. I take it up and hold it by the light, where it takes an yellowish-white hue- it’s a cow horn, I realize, hallowed out. What could it b- it’s a drinking horn! I remember that you might put a drink, mead or ale or beer, in here and use it to drink. Marvelling at it, I realize that there’s something carved on the side- this time, it letters I do understand.

“Aae..sir…hiiii…. aaesirheimr.”

         Ignoring that it felt like the first time I’ve ever heard my voice (I could figure that out later), the name sounds familiar, like it’s a story that someone told you. A place of… gold? I don’t remember. Remember. Remember.

         Disappointed, I start to set the horn back in the bag, when something in the cup rattles. What could it be? I dump the contents out into my hand and… oh my gods.

         Something inside me crumbles and my defenses, apparently making themselves now known, break and let a white hot sadness turn my stomach inside out. It was a worn golden ring, its luster bleak and there was, to my horror, splatters of what looks like blood. I start to weep when I think about that. Why? What does that even mean, to cry seeing a ring that I’ve never lain eyes upon? Does it have something to do with why I can’t remember my life past ten minutes ago?

         It takes me a few minutes to recompose myself- I used the drinking horn to scoop up some of the river’s water and take a drink (sniffing it first, of course)- it tastes sweet but… something else- melancholic, perhaps. It chilled my insides. Setting the cup back in (I can drink later), I decided to put one foot in front of the other, and meandered down the cave across the river to the portal at the end. Sticking the torch in, I see nothing, just a winding corridor. It takes my breath away- so far!

         It takes all of my courage to continue forward. I decide, however, first, to sit down and take an inventory of what I have. On the floor, in the flickering light of the torch, I see my coins, the cake wrapped in a cloth, a few matches and tinder (for how I got the torch started, I suppose), the horn, the… oh gods, the ring, and… to my surprise, a pair of worn leather sandals- which, to my further surprise, fit my feet perfectly.  I must have taken them off before I got into the water. But when did I do that? I look back, and the air flickers, if just for a moment. But in the flicker, I saw a... field. A green field. It makes me feel happy. I feel like I know it… but can’t place it. I put all the stuff back into the pack, and, about to started to walk towards the exit, when I decide to sit.
         I sat there for a moment, thinking. Here I was, all by myself, just out of a river. How did I get there? Why was I there? Why can’t I remember anything that happened before? How did I get all of that stuff? Why did I take my sandals off before I stepped into the river?

         It made sense to me that I should have those items for something- a journey, perhaps. The torch, matches, tinder and such made sense, for building fires and warmth and light, but the coins? What good are coins in a cave? And the ring? (I swallowed involuntarily as the pit built in my stomach) The cup, I suppose, makes sense- I might drink water with it. The sandals made sense as well- the terrain was rocky here in this place, and I was glad for them- I didn’t want to cut my feet up. They’re worn and my toes match up with the indentations- so I suppose that they were made for me. But apart from that, I don’t think anything would have any real use here in the cavern- how long would that cake last? And why cake? How deep am I?

         It occurred to me finally that I might not make it out of here alive- it was strange to me, almost made me smile, in fact, to think that I would be so fearful of death after finding myself lifted from it so recently. I seemed to be fine for all the time before it.

         The truth if it was that I had no clue how deep in the cave I was- it could be miles, it could be only a few feet. But strangely, that the idea of death was scary, but not nearly as frightening as… incompletion?

         Incompletion of what? I don’t remember.

         Remember. Remember.

         I stood there locked in silence- somehow the thought of incompletion… failure, maybe… was linked to the ring. It feels like getting lost or dying in the cave would make me lose something. Why am I crying? I wiped the tears and let a sigh out of me- I was tired of this. Crying? That can’t be good- I felt… worn out from crying- like it had lost its flavor. I couldn’t do this anymore- standing here like a petulant child wouldn’t do a damn thing. Walking forward, however, presented possibilities- like getting out of this cave and talking to someone else, maybe finding out where I was… maybe someone would recognize me.

         I set everything back into the sack and got up to my feet, wiping any tears left from my eyes. Then, after a thought, I took back out the drinking horn. I walked over to the river, and scooped up a full measure of ice cold water. It was crystal clear, and what little light came from the torch made the water droplets shine like diamonds on black velvet. I took a long draw, realizing how thirsty I was- it was like rain on a desert after draught- even after draining the horn, I greedily scooped up another horn and drank again. Once more after that. And one more.  I realized that I was gasping for air for all the water I had drunk. It felt good, and when I moved the water sloshed around in my belly- it felt like I hadn’t had any food in ages. Or, at least, it felt like ages. It might have been, for all I knew.

         Sighing, I set the cup back in the knapsack, and turned to face the hole in the rock wall. It was about time that I start walking, wasn’t it? I started forward, torch in hand, when I took a step I realized the rocky ground under my feet jutted up painfully. Oh yeah, the sandals. I slipped them on, tying the laces with practiced motions that that I don’t ever remember doing- but my muscles seem to remember. I started forward again, the sandals protecting my feet. Mostly: I stubbed my toe, and that was a pain I would sure like to forget.

I can’t believe I just said that.