Page 42 of Unlikely Omega

She draws a sharp breath.

It cuts me like a knife.

“Keep your horse,” she says. “You’ll need it.”

After she turns her mount around and leaves, I stand there in the mud and work on steadying my breathing.

It takes a long time before I stop feeling like I’m drowning.

And then what I did really hits me.

What the fuck did I just do?

I can’t fucking see, and though at the Temple that wasn’t that big a hindrance, it sucks when you’re out in the wide world with no markers, no points of reference.

My other senses sputter like a dying candle flame, and it scares the fucking shit out of me. I’ve relied on them since I lost my sight to get me through space and around obstacles, but they have somehow dimmed since we left the Temple behind.

I don’t know what it means, if it means anything at all, but it’s grinding down my optimism about the outcome of this flight.

“Ariadne!” I shout, turning in a circle. “Ariadne!”

But she doesn’t answer back.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I stand there for a while. What the fuck have I done?

“You’re an asshole!”

So true.

“Ariadne! Come back!” I walk up the escarpment, cast about with my useless, dimmed senses, but—surprise!—don’t get any sense of her. Did she really take the horses and run away from me? Was I that scary in my powerless anger?

A horse snorts and I let out a shaky breath. Looks like she didn’t take my horse, at least, like she said. I follow the sounds and pat his or her mane. Press my forehead to the strong neck, let the warmth and horsey smell soothe me before I panic and run into the stream to drown or something.

I can’t panic again. It’s not something a blind man can afford, running headlong into unknown surroundings and situations. Not something a failed priest can do, either, when he has to make good with his gods.

The feel of her underneath me, the sounds she made, the way her lips tasted, so plump and sweet, it all slams back into me, and I curse under my breath.

Sliding into the first position of the morning ritual for Briareus should feel natural. Ingrained, almost. But I falter, skidding on pebbles, splashing into the edge of the stream.

Calm down, Finn.

My horse neighs softly somewhere behind me. I think he’s laughing at me.

Start again.

This is nothing new. When I first went blind, I kept falling over, or down on my ass. People laughed at me a lot. People are cruel, stupid creatures, and I’ve never liked them much, but it taught me to swallow my anger and try again.

And again.

And again, until I get it right.

As if dancing will solve anything.

As if you should be wasting your time with this when you should be thinking what to do next.

Damn. Just get through this one ritual. It will help end the panic, find that inner calm that will allow you to think.

Thinking would be good. My mind feels like a muddy pond right now. Can’t formulate a plan to save my life.

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