He let out a sigh and willed the sleep that would not come. Was it because sleep was so like death? Did he worry that if he gave into it, he might not wake again?
Beside him, Dela moaned.
Orergon twisted onto his side to see her better. The moonlight was fractured through the network of skinny branches and small leaves overhead, but he was able to make out the way her forehead pulled down in a frown. She let out another moan and kicked out her leg. Her head twisted from one side and to the other.
“Not you,” she muttered. “No, don’t ...”
She was having a nightmare. Was it one of those dreams—the ones where she was connected with the dragon, and was able to see through his eyes? Could she see over one of their homelands now? Each of them was desperate for news from home. She’d caught a glimpse of what was happening in her home city of Anthoinia, but none of them knew how their own people were faring. Had they even got news of the war yet? His own people, the Moerians, were scattered far and wide across the Vast Plains. Even if word had got around that the Second Great War had begun, it would take days, if not weeks, for each of the tribes to learn the news. And chances were, the leaders of the tribes would be out riding and hunting, as was their culture, and obviously he wasn’t there either to guide them.
Beside him, Dela moaned again.
He looked over to Vehel and Warsgra. Neither of them had been disturbed by her noises. Vehel lay on his side, his silvery blond hair hiding most of his face. Warsgra lay on his front, to protect the injuries on his back, but even in that position, he still managed to softly snore.
“Stop, please,” she murmured. “No ... I will ...”
Orergon lifted his hand to shake her awake, but then paused. What if she was dreaming something of importance? He might wake her, only for her to be angry with him for breaking her from the dream.
But as she cried out once more, her arms and legs jerking, perhaps battling some foe in her dream, Orergon’s heart could take it no more.
“Dela,” he said, softly, not wanting to wake the others. “Hey, Dela. It’s okay. It’s only a dream.”
But wherever she was, she didn’t hear him, and the dream continued.
He placed his hand on her small shoulder and gave her a shake. “Dela, you need to wake up now.” He raised his voice a little. “You’re having a bad dream.”
She gave a start, jumping from dream to wakefulness. Confused, she half-sat. “What? What’s happened?”
“It’s okay. You were having a bad dream. I didn’t know if I should wake you, or if it was something important.”
His hand was still on her shoulder, and she trembled beneath his palm. She put her face in her hands. “Thank you. I was dreaming about my brother leaving. I was trying to make him stay because I already knew he was going to die, but he refused.”
Orergon realized her shaking wasn’t out of fear. She was crying. His heart clamped tight in his chest, and out of instinct more than any rational thought, he pulled her into his arms. Her face pressed against his bare chest—he had left his leather shirt back with the abandoned fruit—and her silent tears dampened his skin. His hands laced in the back of her hair, the strands so soft beneath his fingers, and he lowered his mouth to press against the top of her head.
“Shh,” he told her. “It was only a dream. It’s over now.”
But she shook her head against him. “No, it’s never going to be over, because that’s what happened, only I didn’t know he was going to die.” She gave a small laugh and sniffed and lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “Even if I’d known in real life and told him he was going to die, he probably would have gone anyway. He was like that, you know? If he set his mind and heart on something, he wouldn’t be told any differently.”
A smile touched Orergon’s lips. “Sounds like he was a lot like his sister.”
She laughed again, and this time he saw genuine happiness in her eyes. “Yes, he was. He really was.”
They paused, captured in the moment. And then Orergon acted before his fears could prevent him from doing so, and he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She snatched a breath, freezing in his touch for a moment, before relaxing against him. He reclined onto his back, drawing Dela down with him. Her small breasts crushed to his naked chest. He held her tighter, tangling his fingers in the soft tresses of her hair, still damp at the nape from where they’d washed themselves clean in the water. He teased her lips open with his, and the moment their tongues touched, his body responded. A part of him felt he should push her away, but the physical need in him rose, and instead he did the opposite. He slid his hand down her back to cup her bottom and press her harder against him.
Dela gasped and met his movement with one of her own, grinding her hips down, so the secret place between her thighs met with the hard ridge of his arousal. Their kiss grew deeper, their tongues battling, breathing becoming ragged. Dela wore a vest and her leather pants, both of which had been washed in the water and were still slightly damp, as were his own. He pushed his hand down the back of her pants, skirting his palm over the glorious, naked curve of her bottom. Her skin was impossibly soft and smooth, and his erection grew even harder.
Moving lower still, he slipped his fingers between the valley of her buttocks, and lower again to find soft, wet heat. Dela groaned in response, and his heart raced. By the Gods, she felt incredible. He wanted her so badly, but the others were sleeping beside them, and he didn’t know how they would respond to waking to the two of them making love. Perhaps he could take her away from the bushes, but somehow that didn’t feel right either. No, this was about her. He wanted to make her feel better, even if he had to do it holding her down with his hand clamped over her mouth so she didn’t make any noise.
The thought stirred the darkness in him, and he froze at the kiss. Where had that come from?
She’d noticed something was wrong, pulling away from him slightly, and he removed his hand from her clothing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his erection deflating.
He tried to push her away, but she wasn’t going anywhere, remaining pressed up against him, her hand against his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It’s me. I’m not sure ...” He frowned at himself. “I’m not sure I’m good for you now.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“There’s something wrong with me ... inside. When I came back from the sludge, it was like I’d brought a bit of the darkness with me. It’s still inside me now.”
She widened her eyes in the small amount of moonlight that penetrated the canopy of the bushes. “That’s not possible, Orergon. You’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring myself,” he admitted. “But I died, and Vehel brought me back. I think I may have brought some of that death back with me, and it’s still inside me.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re good, and strong, and brave. There’s no death inside you.”
Beside them, Warsgra grunted then lifted his head slightly. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing, Warsgra,” she said, softly. “I had a bad dream. Go back to sleep. Everything is all right.”
But Orergon wasn’t sure that everything was all right. He’d had this beautiful, special, brave woman coupling with him, and still his thoughts had turned to the darkness. Could he even be trusted to be around her? What if he did something that hurt her?
He turned his face from her, and angled his body away.
“I’m sorry, Dela. Go back to sleep. There are still many hours until morning.”
Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he sensed her hesitation, before she removed her touch, and turned over herself, settling herself back down to sleep. He heard her sigh and wished he could interpret it—frustration at him, sadness, perhaps?
He lifted his hand to pillow it beneath his face, and as he waited for sleep to come, he tried not to think about how he could smell her on his fingers, and how wha
t he wanted more in the world than anything else was for her to be his.
Chapter Seven
Dela
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Orergon acted as though nothing had happened. As they readied themselves for another day of traveling on foot, a part of her wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing. His words worried her, and she vowed to speak to him about what he’d said. He’d sounded frightened, and she didn’t like to think of brave, strong Orergon being scared. She wondered if it would also be a good idea to speak with Vehel about what Orergon had said. Even if she didn’t ask him directly, perhaps she could ask some open questions about what happened when someone was brought back from the brink of death. She didn’t know if Vehel would even have the answers, but the conversation in the middle of the night, where one moment she’d been caught up in passionate kisses and desire, and the next moment cast aside with words of darkness and death, wasn’t something she could just forget about.
Warsgra found some more grubs, and Vehel located some small yellow fruit he recognized, so they were able to put something in their bellies before getting on the move again. The day had dawned as bright and hot as the last, and Dela knew within minutes of walking she would have sweat streaming down her brow, and down her chest and back. She wished they had the ponies with them, if only so they had a way of carrying the water, and she cursed herself for not thinking of holding one of the water bladders in her hand while they’d been climbing the ridge to Drusga. At least then they’d have had something when the ponies bolted.
She slipped her hand into her pocket to touch the Dragonstone. It flared warm beneath her touch, but she wasn’t sure if that was simply because the general temperature of their surroundings was warm, or because of its magic. She hadn’t dreamed of the dragon last night, hadn’t dreamed of soaring through the clouds, and a part of her worried this was all a mistake, and her ability to see through the dragon’s eyes had been a one off. They were walking through this jungle in order to reach the coast to try to find a Seer who might be able to teach her more about her ability and how to master it, but they didn’t even know for sure if they were going in the right direction.
But what other choice did they have? They could each go back to their homelands, and then what? Would they be at war? Would it be all of the races against each other, or would the Norcs and Elvish and Moerians band together to fight the humans? If so, that made her the enemy, and she couldn’t stand the thought of that. If she was forced to fight them, would she draw a weapon? No, she thought she’d simply stand there and let them do what they wanted. But if they were attacking her parents, would she do nothing then, or would she be forced to defend her family and home?
Dela didn’t even want to think about it. Her gut twisted at the possibility of what lay ahead in all of their futures. She remembered Orergon’s soft kisses, and Vehel’s, too. She wanted more of those kisses with all of these men, and never wanted to be in a position where she had to lift a hand against them.
With that as her only other option, she was content to continue to journey with them, even if there was nothing for them at the end.
Warsgra walked at her side and bumped her hip with his. “You’re quiet today.”
She gave him a smile. “Just thinking. How’s your back?”
He winced. “Sore, but I’ll live.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open for any aloe. It’ll help the healing.”
“Thanks. What were you and Orergon talking about in the early hours?”
Ah, so that was why he’d lagged behind to speak with her.
She looked ahead, to where Vehel and Orergon walked side by side. They were probably within hearing distance, so she dropped her tone slightly. “It was nothing. I’d had a nightmare about my brother, and Orergon woke me. We were talking about Ridley and what it was like when he left and didn’t come back.”
It wasn’t a lie, as such. They had been talking about Ridley. She just left out the other part.
Warsgra lifted his eyebrows at her. “You sure that’s all it was?”
Perhaps Warsgra had overheard them, or maybe he’d noticed them kissing. Her face burned with heat, but she could put that down to the temperature and exertion.
“Of course,” she said, but didn’t meet his eye.
Still, she found herself turning over the events. It had been the dead of night, and they’d been caught up in the moment. Perhaps it was some kind of latent guilt about the others that had made Orergon push her away? Maybe she was over-thinking things, and his words had meant nothing?
Orergon paused up ahead, and a flutter of worry went through her. Had he heard their conversation, or was something else wrong?
“Hey, can anyone else smell that?” The Moerian had lifted his face to the sky and inhaled deeply through his nose.
Relieved, Dela hurried to join him. “What is it?”
“Inhale.”
She did, but at first she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then Vehel looked to Orergon with a grin. “The ocean. I can smell the ocean.”
Orergon nodded. “That’s what I thought. I could scent the salt on the air, and figured it must be that.”
That meant they were near.
The group picked up their pace, the promise of the end of the jungle nearby giving them speed. Beneath foot, the ground changed in composition, the dirt mixing with sand.
Dela’s heart lifted with excitement. She’d only ever seen the ocean from a distance, standing behind the eastern gates of the wall that ran around Anthoinia. Ships were launched from the coast on that side of the city, but it wasn’t something normal folk like her were ever involved in. She might have been one day with her skills working with the blacksmith—she’d heard their jobs went beyond simple sword and armor forging during wartime. Ships needed iron on them, too. But the city’s need for ship building hadn’t been great during a time of peace, and traveling on the ocean was dangerous business. So she’d only ever watched the grey swell of the ocean from a distance, and wondered what it must be like to put your hand or foot into such a powerful entity.
The trees opened up, and suddenly, between the trunks ahead, she caught a glimpse of cobalt. This wasn’t like the Eastern Sea, which was grey and tumultuous. This water was still and as blue as the sky. Small waves rushed in upon a golden beach, and Dela gave a small squeal of joy and ran onto the sand before sitting down and yanking off her boots.
Warsgra frowned down at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never felt sand on my toes before, and I’ve never put my feet in the ocean.”
The Norc’s expression didn’t change. “Why would you want to? Horrible, gritty stuff, it looks like, and you can’t trust the sea. Only the Gods will ever know what sort of creatures it’s hiding.”
Orergon remained at Warsgra’s side, nodding in agreement, but Vehel’s face had lit up at the sight of the water, and the Elvish prince dropped to the sand beside her. He tugged at his own boots, throwing them to one side.
“By the Gods, be careful,” Warsgra called out.
She turned to him with a laugh. It was funny to hear the big man sounding nervous. He’d lived his life in the mountains, and perhaps had never been near the ocean. There weren’t many oceans near the Vast Plains either.
“We’ll be fine. We’re only going to dip our feet in.”
She rolled up the legs of her pants then pushed herself back to her feet. Vehel copied her, and she snatched up his hand as they headed, side by side, toward the waves. The sand grew cool and harder beneath foot, and then the first wave washed over the tips of her toes. She grinned at Vehel, and he grinned back.
“Is this anything like your ocean back home?” she asked him.
“No, not at all. Ours is far colder, darker, the waves bigger.”
“Sounds more like the Eastern Sea,” she replied.
But he shook his head. “No, it’s the same sea as this one. This is still the Deepest Gulf, but it must become the Lonely Strait soon.”
They’d edged in deeper, and Dela clung tighter to Vehel’s arm as the water slapped around her ankles. It was so clear, she was able to see the sand and shells beneath the surface. A small shoal of fish darted nearby, and she screamed and hopped back.
“Everything okay?” Warsgra called like an anxious father waiting nervously on the shoreline.
Vehel laughed. “Just some tiny fish.”
But she’d never seen fish in the ocean before. She figured they weren’t going to be her last either.
She wanted to broach the subject of what had happened with Orergon, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. She didn’t want Orergon to think she was talking about him behind his back either. Maybe there was a way she could bring it up as a group? She didn’t want them to be divided in any way, but she also worried that she was making more of a big deal of what he’d said than it really was. Deep down, she was also feeling a little rejected. She’d known he wanted her from the way he’d kissed her and touched her, and yet he’d also pushed her away. She was worried about him, but at what point was it simply none of her business?
“This is all fun and games,” Warsgra called from the shore, “but you’re missing something.”
She frowned at him over her shoulder. “We are?”
“We came to the coast to find an island where a Seer is supposed to live.” He gestured at the vast expanse of ocean. “But I don’t see any island—do you?”
Her stomach sank. She’d got so caught up in the excitement of being on a beach and touching the ocean for the first time, she’d completely forgotten their reason for coming this way in the first place.
“We should head north.” Vehel pointed up the beach. “There’s a headland. Maybe if we get around that, we’ll be able to see more.”
They waded back out of the water. Already, she missed the coolness on her feet. She didn’t want to put her boots back on, so she picked them up and carried them instead. Bare-footed, she was able to walk where the sand was the most firm. Vehel joined her, and Warsgra and Orergon walked on the side closest to the jungle which morphed to thick rooted mangroves. She didn’t trust roots so much anymore, and no matter what Warsgra said about the ocean, she figured there were plenty of dangers on land as well.
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 27
