The skin around the sea dragon’s opaque eyes widened, as though in severe shock. It began trembling. Deep, violent tremors that ran down the length of its neck and body. Auri released the dragon’s cheek and quickly stepped away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at the deck; tears leaked down her pale cheeks. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
Quivering still, the sea dragon glided its neck forward until it was resting its head upon Auri’s trembling shoulders. It hummed deep in its throat. “Peace, little one,” it soothed. “I am only surprised.” It began to hum what sounded like a lullaby, its chest vibrating deeply with each note. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, ancient and terrible all at the same time.
More tears slid down Auri’s cheeks as she closed her eyes and leaned into the neck and head of the dragon. They stayed like that, dragon and elf entwined, until the haunting lullaby came to a gentle, breathtaking conclusion.
The silence around them was complete. The men on the deck stared in complete awe as the dragon slowly rubbed away the glistening drops trailing down Auri’s cheek with its nose. When it spoke again, the deep tremors of its body were gone and its voice was serene and peaceful. “You will come to see me again?”
Auri nodded, opening her eyes and gazing at the creature. Something had changed; some shift of understanding or feeling. “Yes,” she said softly. “Soon.”
The ancient head nodded, satisfied. “Then I give my blessing. Go in peace to the eternal shores of thy home, blessed one.” Auri rose on tiptoe to kiss its warm cheek, and Drashmere entwined his neck around her shoulders again, squeezing gently in a loving embrace. Then he unwound from around her and breathed upon her face. Auri smiled.
The sea dragon turned, pausing intently in front of Liran. Liran looked up at the sightless gaze and then his eyes went suddenly from barely lit to blazing. His face tightened in pain; he staggered against the railing. Auri quickly moved to his side and put a gentle, questioning hand across his arm. Liran’s eyes remained closed as the creature gave one final embrace to Auri and then swept away, disappearing beneath the gently undulating waves.
For a long, stunned moment, all was silent on the deck. Then the crew started moving off to see to cleaning up the vessel after its being tossed across the ocean. They talked animatedly with one another as they walked away. Dhurmic moved too, muttering something about going to fix his axe and his beard before he disappeared below deck. Finally, the only four standing there were Nachal, Liran, Auri and the wolf.
Auri was whispering something to Liran, and Liran was shaking his head. His eyes were still closed to the softly falling night around them.
Nachal walked away, pain clutching his chest. He moved to a remote corner of the ship, far away from the shifting and moving of the crew, and stared down at the rippling waves below. Before too many minutes had passed, a figure came to stand at the railing beside him. “Come to throw me in?” he asked archly, keeping his eyes trained on the ocean.
“Hardly,” Liran said in a strained voice. His hands dangled over the rail as his wrists rested against it. “Tell me about . . . Cerralys.”
Nachal glanced over at him in surprise. “Why?”
“You are not dragon by blood.”
Nachal stiffened. “He is my foster father,” he said coldly.
Liran looked away wearily. “I meant no offense. I was merely trying to figure out your place in all of this.”
Nachal relaxed and looked out over the endless ocean. He deliberated for a long moment, and then sighed. “I can’t talk about it,” he whispered.
Silence and then, “I understand.”
“No,” Nachal said in frustration. “You don’t.” His fingers gripped the rail punishingly; he could feel every indentation, every remote crevice of the wood. “Take it from my mind,” he demanded stiffly, suddenly. “I can’t say it aloud; just take it from my mind.”
“I can only hear your current thoughts,” Liran warned.
Nachal nodded silently then let his eyes close against the endless rhythm of the waves flowing beneath the ship, crashing into the sides of the hull—remembering. He brought them forward. Dreams that were streaked with sweat and tears and blood. He paused over each image until the pain in his chest felt like it would explode, and silent tears ran down his face. He felt Liran stiffen in shock beside him, felt the air all around them go still once again.
“Why?” he whispered harshly.
Nachal shook his head, mute. That he didn’t know. He brought the final image forward, and left it there to burn a bright, gaping hole in his mind: Obsidian, circling high above. He had to breathe deeply through his clenched teeth for a moment before he was able to show him the next scene—that pivotal conversation with Cerralys.
“I need a clear view of his face,” Liran murmured, his voice strained.
Nachal nodded, understanding instantly why he asked this. He pushed the memory forward. That final moment in Cerralys’s study, before he had turned and walked away. He paused there, letting the familiar face and eyes fill his mind completely. Then he opened his eyes, the slate of his mind clean, and looked over at Liran whose head was bowed.
“I understand now,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
Nachal nodded, looking out past the waves again toward the vast, black emptiness of the night that went on forever.
Liran was quiet for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with pain. “I know that you love her.”
Nachal glanced over at him, suddenly wary of where this conversation was headed. “What does that matter?”
Liran looked at him. His eyes were blazing, tight with deep emotion. “I think it would mean a great deal . . . to her.”
“She doesn’t even know,” Nachal said bitterly. “In her eyes, she just met me.”
The answer was soft. “Give her time, Nachal. She needs you. Don’t fail her.” And with that he was gone, leaving Nachal to stare unseeingly at the dark and empty night.
Chapter Fourteen- Shrouded
As they pushed forward relentlessly, the Sea of Mists came alive. Thick droplets clogged the air, making it seem like she was breathing water into her lungs. She was at the prow of the ship, straining to see anything through the thick, soupy mass of mists. Liran was beside Auri with his eyes closed. Wolf was sleeping, or probably more accurately resting, with his head pushed up against her feet. She didn’t mind.
“Liran?”
He turned. She flinched at the contrast of hollow depth in his eyes. It wasn’t really something that was visual, more a sense that she had. Liran had so much depth, almost two centuries of it, but there was also a hollow emptiness about him as though part of him was withered like the string he had shown her in her mind. She stared into his eyes, wondering what she had been about to ask him. For the life of her she couldn’t remember.
“Yes?” he prompted.
She fished around for something quickly, hoping he was currently out of the mainstream of her thoughts. “How long until we get there?” she asked, looking away from the questions in his eyes.
“A few hours.”
She turned back in surprise. “So soon? I thought we were still days away.”
He shook his head. “We’ve made good time,” he murmured quietly.
“Are you excited, seeing home again?”
“I should be.”
“But you aren’t.”
He closed his eyes. “El`ness Nahrral is empty for me now.”
“Is there anyone there waiting for you?”
He looked at her face curiously. “No.”
“Family?”
“A brother.”
“That’s good then.”
He turned back to the sea without comment. Every sound seemed blanketed within the mists. The sound of the water and the ship slicing through it. The sound of the crew. Even the sound of her breath and heartbeat. Everything seemed muffled, held within the silence of a shroud.
Her mind had been preoccup
ied for days now. She felt as if she were trying to understand everything and go everywhere at once. The fighting. The letters. The ships that were sweeping through the waters, closing off all available ports and supplies. The stranger she had met recently with the deep, grey eyes. Eyes that looked at her both with pain and . . . something else.
“Love,” Liran murmured quietly. “He looks at you that way because he loves you.”
She jerked her head up, barely able to see him standing a foot away from her because of the mists. “Love? He barely knows me.” She found his eyes, which was easy to do because they were currently glowing as he looked across at her, a foot from her face.
It was odd. The mists shrouded him completely. All she could see were his glowing eyes. There seemed to be no body or face attached. He stepped forward, now inches away from her, revealing his body and face once again, and looked at her intently.
“You create for love limits and boundaries. What about the love of a mother and child? A love that is instant.”
She stared at his chin, away from the intensity of his eyes. “I would think,” she breathed softly, “that the love of a mother and child are different.”
He tilted her head up with his index finger until she was looking him in the eyes again. “What about the love of friends?” His voice was husky, the mist going into his mouth and out with each word that he spoke. It was mesmerizing to watch. She forgot where she was in the conversation again.
“Friends?” she asked dully, mesmerized by the mist clouding his mouth and blowing out again. His lips parted even more. He was breathing roughly. She jerked her eyes up to his. His eyes were brighter now, glowing incandescent in the encompassing white that surrounded them.
She didn’t think about it, she just moved. She felt his body tense before her lips touched his. She drew her lips across his, grazing them slightly. He stood like a statue. She moved her hand up past his clenched fist on the rail, up to his chest, and nestled it there as she leaned in again. “Don’t,” he whispered harshly, cutting her off. His eyes, his whole being, were clenched tightly. “Please, Auri. Don’t do this.”
She backed away a step, and released her hand down to her side. He looked like he was in agony. As though her touch brought him pain. “Is it that painful for you to consider?” she asked huskily.
His eyes opened. They scorched her clear to the middle of her body with burning heat. “Yes.”
She looked away from the intense heat of his eyes, down at her hands balled up on the rail. Tears dribbled pathetically down her face. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered, agony etched in every sibilant of his voice.
She laughed, a small, hiccupping sound. “I have never kissed anyone before, never cared to try. Is it the difference in our ages?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Am I . . . unattractive to you?”
She heard a small hissed exhalation from him, as though he had been punched in the stomach. “No,” he said, his voice strained and thick.
She finally turned back to him, the tears continuing to dribble down over her already mist-dampened cheeks. “Uninteresting? Unintelligent? Unkind?”
He shook his head slowly.
“Then what?” she asked in mounting frustration. “What is it?”
He looked back at her, and whether it was the mist or something else, a slight sheen thickened around his eyes. Like water coalescing over a smooth surface. She swallowed at the hollowness that was more blatantly visible in them. At the dead pain. “I,” he rasped with difficulty, “am not the right person for you to love.”
They stood like that for a long time before she could speak again. “Go into my thoughts and tell me that again,” she finally demanded.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I give my permission.”
He clenched his eyes shut. “You misunderstand,” he whispered. “I can’t for other reasons.” He stood there, muscles straining, face tightened into severe hard angles, hands clenched at his sides, and she felt the hope inside of her wither and die.
“So that’s it then,” she said softly, turning her face away from him. The tears kept falling.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She nodded, clenching her hands on the rail. “Have I ruined our friendship?”
“Come here,” he whispered harshly in answer.
She laughed and it still came out sounding like a sobbing hiccup. “I tried that just now. It didn’t work too well.”
He opened his eyes and the piercing pain in them melted her resistance. “Please?”
She took one step forward, unsure what he wanted. His hands suddenly shot out, faster than she could follow with her eyes, and clutched her close to his body. His arms wound around her, enfolding her within his warmth. He kissed the top of her head and held her like that for a long time. His whole body was shaking, tremors rocking it visibly.
She clutched at his shirt and inhaled, drowning in his presence. “Shh,” she tried to soothe, her throat tight with tears and a deep ache that pierced all the way down to her chest. “It’s alright.” He continued to shake, vibrating her slightly as he held her. Time melded, morphing and twisting in the mists until she felt like it had stopped completely. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Air hissed out of his teeth again, but she didn’t open her mouth to ask why. She stepped back, out of the circle of his arms and the warm solidity of his body. “I need to go gather my things if the isle is coming up soon.” Wolf, who had been lounging, lightly pushed up against the calves of her legs and her feet, stood.
Liran nodded, lifting his head and letting his arms drop. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes following her through the thick mists until she reached the hatch and descended. She could feel them still aware of her as she walked through the darkened crew deck to her room and as she gathered her things and made her way quickly up the ladder again. Wolf was waiting for her at the open hatch. Liran was nowhere in sight.
Liran knelt beside his bed, shivering from the vast coldness eating away at his lungs and skin. His hands were clenched into fists around the thin blanket that the room provided him with. The blanket that he had yet to use. He ground his head into the limp, cot-like mattress and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe normally through his mouth and nose.
Sound drilled into his head, piercing it with a sharp shrillness, that—coupled with the all-encompassing pain that was Auri—made his body arch slightly as he tried to gasp air into the hollow cavity of his chest as he tried in vain to block everything out.
He waited until the shaking subsided, until all of the tremors were loosed from his body, until the pain inside of his head was a dull roar. Then he gathered his bag and bow, cleared his face of all emotion, and headed up toward the deck. Toward Auri, and toward home.
The bell clanged, warning of an impending situation. He ran, just getting there in time to see Auri being carried across the waters on Drashmere’s back in the direction of El`ness Nahrral.
He stared after them helplessly.
I will care for her well. Be not afraid.
She knows nothing of our home, Liran replied. Nothing of what awaits her there.
Trust, Drashmere said with great tenderness. Then he blocked Liran from his thoughts—one of the very few beings that had the ability—and Liran looked down and sighed. The hollow ache inside felt like it would eat him alive.
Chapter Fifteen- Heartache
There really was no comparison. Drashmere slid through the waves like sand through an hourglass. Effortlessly. She had her bag tied to her waist and pushed around to her back and was holding on to Drashmere’s neck as he swam. Wolf had jumped overboard with her, but would go nowhere near Drashmere’s back. He swam to the side of them.
She leaned in closer to Drashmere. “Is Wolf alright?”
He is fine, Drashmere replied to her mind. Thou hast named thy wolf Wolf?
Auri laughed. “Very unoriginal of me, I know.”
&nb
sp; No, Drashmere argued. It suits him well.
“Why did you come?”
I sensed thy pain. I have been following thy vessel.
“Why didn’t you sense me before?”
Before, I didn’t know what I was looking for. Now, I do. They were silent as he swam through the waters, and she rested her cheek against the side of his neck. Her heart burned with pain. Her cheeks were still wet with tears. Soon, that salt mixed with the salt of the ocean as it continuously splashed her face with small droplets. If thou needs to talk, blessed one, Drashmere said quietly, I am here.
Auri noted the odd name that he called her by, but refrained from asking. “I don’t know where to start.” It felt perfectly natural speaking to a sea dragon who was swimming through the Sea of Mists and she riding upon his back. It would probably feel natural speaking to him in any situation. A bond had formed quickly between the two of them. A deep, thrumming sound vibrated through Drashmere’s body in response to her thoughts. She tightened her hold on his neck.
Perhaps with the elf Liran, Drashmere suggested.
She let the sound of the ocean calm her a little as she thought about what she wanted to say. She gulped the tangy air as it whipped past her face and tangled through her hair. The spray from a large wave shot up and drenched her pants to her thighs, even sitting as high up as she was on Drashmere’s back. The water was cold, she could feel that, but it didn’t bother her. The cold never did. “I have grown to love him,” she murmured finally. “He does not feel the same. That is the reason for the pain.”
Drashmere swam in silence for many minutes. He cares for thee, he replied eventually, his voice inside of her head only a whisper now. Liran is . . . different. He has been blessed in both mind and body to be able to surpass even the most talented of elven-kind, and in this he has always stood apart. He has been alone for a long time. If he has told thee that he cannot be with thee, then he must feel that he has a good reason for doing so.
“Are you sure . . . that he cares about me?”
I am sure. It permeates his entire being. I can feel it even now. I can smell it even now.
Dragon Dreams (The Chronicles of Shadow and Light) Book 1 Page 13
