Salome at Sunrise

by Inez Kelley

  Her sandals left smudges in the dirt, tiny footprints to show she’d once lived. They too would fade over time. One brisk wind rippling down the mountainside would erase her path on this earth. Salome didn’t want to touch the evil stain of blood and chose a small clear space in full sunshine. She tilted her face upward, let the golden rays warm her human flesh for one last moment.

  There was no time for a sweet goodbye. The men were still exchanging harsh words, flinging insults and tempers, clashing like two rival bucks for a seasoned doe. Bryton would be angry for a while, bitter and resentful. His friendship with the king would take time to heal. But destiny was never thwarted for long. Things would fall into their place, each peg into its allotted spot. The only hole left unfilled would be the one in her heart—a heart that had no structure. The heartache would be intertwined with her entire being for eternity.

  Breathing deep, she raised her arms and opened to the cadence of magic rhythmically pulsing in her spirit. The glare of yellow sunlight sizzled to a flash of lavender. A waterfall of magic descended, wrapping around her like a mother’s arms cradling a newborn. Salome focused on the faraway heartbeat of a prism. Her body rose off the stone without the aid of wings, held aloft by magic’s hand.

  She clung tight to her love, the touch of his hand, the fire of his kiss, the warmth of his embrace. These things, the memories, she would keep. A solemn bell tolled and the prism grew in intensity. Home beckoned with the promise of oblivion.

  Taric froze, his eyes wide and his mouth opened. His sentence stopped midword. Bryton frowned and turned. Anguish stabbed into his soul. Salome was leaving him. Lavender radiance streaming from the bright blue sky surrounded her. Her hair danced wildly about her face. The blaze of her gown glittered like morning light. A rainbow shooting off the sides mocked his torment. A yawning ache formed in his heart and he screamed her name. Only Taric’s fast clutch prevented him from lunging toward her.

  “No!” he cried, fighting at the hold around his arms. “Salome, wait!

  “Farewell, beloved. Think of me when the morn kisses the night and know that you are loved in more worlds than your own.”

  Her words were a magic sigh in the wind. Love-stained eyes found his and deepened with bereavement. She pressed a single kiss to her slender fingertips and blew it toward him.

  Taric’s restraint fell away with a horrified murmur. “Oh, shit.”

  Bryton took a charging step toward the magical beam that lifted her but Taric grabbed his arm. “Did you bed her?”

  “What?” Disbelief scourged through him and he gaped at Taric. Salome was leaving this world and Taric wanted to have a man-to-man about sexual escapades?

  “Just tell me if you did. Did she bleed?”

  “It’s none of your godda—”

  “Answer me!”

  “Yes!”

  Frenzied thoughts sparkled in Taric’s eyes in flashes of bronze and gold. “Did she bleed more than once?”

  “Women only bleed once, Tar, unless you’re doing it wrong. Now get the fuck off me!” He ripped from Taric’s hold and rushed toward the cascade of enchantment.

  A vibrating hiss shot over his shoulder in a screaming pitch. Salome jerked, her arms flinging wide, an arrow shaft embedded deep in her breast. A small bloom of blood welled on her chiton. The magic beam fractured and split, dropping her to the ground.

  An ice-cold knife carved into Bryton’s heart, slamming him to a halt. The pulse in his temple pounded with gushing heat and air lodged in his lungs. He whirled. Taric stood poised, his bow still gripped in his extended arm.

  “You son of a bitch!” Bryton’s fist connected with Taric’s jaw, snapping through the sanctuary like a thunder crack. His battle cry lodged in his pain-tightened throat as he landed on top of the king. He gripped Taric’s tunic and slammed him against the floor. Taric offered no defense and his golden head hit the stone with a sharp thwack. A bloody splatter fanned out.

  “Why? She was leaving. You didn’t have to kill her!” With his lips curled back and hot breath soaring passed his teeth, Bryton’s every muscle quivered in agony, in betrayal. How could Taric do such evil? Heartbreak collided with treachery and sliced his soul to ribbons. A tiger’s growl powered through him. He slammed Taric harder against the stone. Another patch of blood smudged with dark wetness, the thud twanging up his arms. “I wasn’t going with her, damn it! I know my duty. I just didn’t want to be ordered to stay!”

  Taric’s eyes went wide as Myla’s pointed boot tip rammed into Bryton’s ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. A fast throat punch followed by a kick to his chin knocked him off Taric. Her bony knee planted in his stomach and her sharp nails clamped on his windpipe. Bryton had no doubt she was going to rip him open like she’d once done to a wolf. He didn’t much care at that point.

  Taric pulled her away. His ragged breath panted hotly over Bryton’s chin. “You were going to stay?”

  Misery sapped Bryton’s wrath and torment twisted through him. “I took an oath, you dumb ass. Have you ever known me to break a promise? Why, Taric? I just wanted to say goodbye.”

  “She’s alive.” Myla’s whisper raked his aching heart.

  He whipped his head around. Crumpled on her side, blood flowing in bright red pulses, Salome gasped. The noisy breaths gurgled wetly. Her eyes rose to his, puzzlement and pain rounding them. He shoved Taric aside, his feet barely skimming the dusty ground as he raced to Salome’s side. A metallic tang filled the air as her blood dripped to the temple floor. His trembling fingers traced her cheek.

  “Wind, Salome, mist to wind. Heal, sweetling, please.”

  “No, Salome, don’t shift.” The royal command in Taric’s tone jammed the invisible knife deeper into Bryton’s back. He gritted his teeth. He was going to die for assassination because once Salome healed, he was beating the shit out of Taric.

  Taric’s firm hand fell on his shoulder with gentle strength. “I hunted through the darkness until I came to the light. I aimed for the kiss before it landed. Salome can be human, Bry.”

  “What does he mean?” Salome clutched Bryton’s arm, her grip weak and faltering.

  Hopelessness scalded the tears in his throat. “Tar, someone would have to die for that.”

  Taric shook his bloody head and knelt beside him. “No, think about it. What happened on that rooftop?”

  “You died, Myla died, you come back, Balic died, she came back and my ass got wet.”

  “Wrong.” Taric’s whisper held full confidence. “At the point of my death, Myla freely gave me her life. She didn’t claim it for herself. She could have. That was what my scrambled mind realized too late. Myla always had the power to choose her path, just like she chose to become my guardian. Like Salome chose to become your peacemaker.”

  Truth tinged every word and Bryton’s gaze flew to Myla. The queen cocked her head then nodded. “Yes, that was true. When the veil between worlds was thinnest, I chose to give my life away, as Balic did. It is not an inborn power but one that only stems from deep love. If Salome loves you, then she need only claim her life as her own…I hope.”

  “Yes.” Salome’s voice cracked but her fingers squeezed his hand with determination. “I love you with every drop of my being. I want to choose my life, choose to remain with you. I must try.”

  Bryton swallowed. Did he dare believe this was possible? What risks did she face if it failed? What risks were there if she succeeded? “If you do this, you’ll never fly again.”

  “Yes, I will,” Salome murmured with a private smile. “In your arms.”

  “It’ll mean, one day, you’ll die.”

  “It will mean I can cross to the other side and be with you forever. Believe in me, beloved. Trust in me. I need your strength to do this.”

  Trepidation boomed in Bryton’s soul. He had to believe Taric had figured it out. He had to believe Salome could be human. He had to give her all the control. A sudden comprehension shocked through him, stilling his quaking limbs. He didn’t have to give
her anything. She already had the power over her life, the power over her path.

  A small hope grew, flickered and heated. Faith inched his lip higher. “I’ve seen a dead man wake up, a king trade places with a corpse, and a jaguar live in a burn scar. Do it, birdie.”

  The liquid ripple in her breathing as she struggled to sit worried him. Avoiding the arrow protruding from her ribs, he cradled her against his chest, praying it would not be the last time he held her. Her palm curled around his arm and she raised her pale face. A smile curved her bloodless lips. “The time is now.”

  Blood loss left her too weak to stand. Bryton propped her shoulders against the cracked altar that still held his blood. Her knees bent and she curled her feet back. Taric’s arrow had struck bone, lodging deep and planting firm. Bryton was oddly grateful. Had it passed through the soft tissues unimpeded, Salome would have bled out before her body crashed to the stone. Now human death stalked but granted him a few moments to speak with her. Time for a goodbye or a last kiss or for hope to take root in a screaming soul.

  For no reason other than to touch her, he smoothed her hair from her brow, his fingers lingering on the stubborn wave along her cheek. He straightened her hem and wiped a dust smudge from her chin. When there was nothing more he could do, he pressed his mouth to her forehead.

  “Don’t risk yourself. If you have to go, go. I’d rather know you were alive somewhere than here and dead.”

  A slender palm cupped his jaw. “Believe and grant me your strength.”

  Myla crouched beside her, her emerald gaze glowing bright. “Stand back, Bryton. The veil is very thin.”

  “She’ll be all right.” Taric gripped his arm, offering quiet comfort. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have known better.”

  “Don’t do it again.” Bryton fixed his glare to dagger-like sharpness. “Would you have shot her if you’d known I was staying?”

  “Yes,” Taric whispered. “You told me to, remember? I never second-guess when my captain tells me to do something. Death has to be close for her to do the spell. That was what your vision meant.”

  Salome’s lids drooped in sluggishness but she forced them wide, her head angled slightly toward his murmuring queen. A slight nod bobbed her chin. Her tiny fists clenched tight as Myla gripped the arrow shaft. Bryton jerked when she ripped the missile from Salome’s chest. Scarlet spread rapidly along the bright silk and his pulse drummed with ache. Would he watch another woman he loved die? An unmanly whimper formed in his throat, fighting for air.

  Myla pushed to a stand, leaving Salome alone in a pool of golden light. It poured over her skin like water. A pale pink tongue licked her dry lips before her chest rose with an inhale. Trembling arms raised toward the sky. A harmonized melody swelled from deep within her.

  “Ancient magic, receive my plea, come now in this hour of need.

  Grant to me a life of choice, let my soul and heart rejoice.

  Grant to me a path swept clear, to walk with one whom I hold dear.

  Each drop of life I claim for me, hear my call and let it be.”

  In the bright light of day, a storm cloud burst through the heavens, crackling with thunder and lightning. Sand shook from the walls and the stone beneath their feet heaved and swelled. A luminous beam of lilac descended in a fall of glimmer orbs. Debris skittered beneath the gusting supernatural breath, dust billowing around him. Bryton refused to tear his sight from Salome.

  Magic lifted her, teasing through her curls until they licked at the whipping wind. Her chiton pulsed with golden light until the wet crimson stain faded away. Her body trembled, mouth open and eyes closed. Mystic pollen ripped from her skin. A cry reached Bryton’s ears, more whimper than scream.

  “She’s too frail,” Myla whispered in horror. “That’s why she didn’t shift as soon as the arrow struck.”

  Fear gutted Bryton like a deer. Salome had vented such power with her tornado, tossing grown men like rag dolls around a toy room. The cracks in the stone walls came from force of her wind. Twice in the span of a few minutes, she had bridged her realm and this one. Her magic had to be weakened. Added with the injury to her human body, it sapped her of the strength to survive the transformation.

  Katina had been weakened by childbirth and not even her maternal fury could prevent her death. Horror-cold chills encased Bryton and gooseflesh erupted on his skin. This was his greatest fear. He was going to lose Salome, too, right before him.

  A bolt of red-hot anger pierced him. No. He would not stand by and watch again. Fists clenched to white-knuckled hammers, he steeled his spine and strode into the curtain of lavender light. Electrified air sizzled on his skin. The center of the circle was flavored with a mix of wild honey and incense. It lapped at him like invisible water, eddying around his thighs as he reached high. His hand clamped around Salome’s sandal-strapped ankle.

  She weighed nothing. Like pulling a kite from the sky, he tugged her floating body down until he could wrap his arms around her. There was no firmness in her muscles and she slumped in his embrace, lifeless.

  Only love can give life but there is power in a kiss.

  He tilted her chin back and took her mouth. Slack lips did not respond and a terrified fizzle coursed through his veins. It wasn’t working. He deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue to stroke hers. Nothing. Was Queen Tarsha wrong? Wasn’t there power in a kiss?

  “Salome, please, sweetling, please…” he pleaded against her cheek.

  The tingle of enchantment danced along his scalp. A buzzing hum brewed in his gut, the bit of Myla’s essence responding to the call of magic. His gifted foreshadowing leaped stronger than ever and his remaining eye must have blazed white but this time, in this protected shroud of mystic power, he kept his human sight. He heard the song from above, felt its power wash through him. From deep under his sternum, familiarity bubbled. He unconsciously purred like a cat having its belly stroked.

  Bryton tossed his head back and searched the heavens. Above him, a prism of pulsing color and light sang in a chorus of voices that grew stronger and closer. A strange sense of being surrounded by a multitude prickled along his nape. Hidden fingers touched him, smoothed over his back, his arms, his face. There was no fear in the circle, just an overwhelming impression of welcome, solidarity and union. Bryton smiled as he recognized the sensation—familial love.

  “Is Salome your daughter? Are those that exist in your world your children? Do you feel? Do you love?” He cupped her head, bringing her cheek to his heart, holding her tight. “I have a little girl. I would kill for her, die for her. But one day, I’ll give her to another man. It won’t mean I don’t love her anymore, just that I want her to be happy. Please, give Salome to me. Let me love her. If you won’t do that, then take her home. Let her live in her world. Don’t take her magic away and leave her dead. Please.”

  Pink lightning scored the veil, striking Salome in the back. She jerked in his arms and power swept through him in sparks and crackles. Her lungs filled with air. Her eyes stayed closed but her lips opened just a fraction. Bryton sucked in a grateful breath and pressed his mouth to hers. A timid tongue stroked his. Something opened in his chest, that soft, warm place she had touched before they flew. He felt her inside him. Every caress of his mouth funneled more strength into her body, and her arms rose to circle his neck. With the rolling timbre of a kettle drum, life roiled through her. Perfection existed in the kiss.

  A fierce energy wrenched them apart, throwing him outside the charmed glow. It shoved him into Taric. Hard arms went around him, preventing his fall and halting his charge back into the circle. Taric’s clench held firm and his awed voice brushed Bryton’s ear.

  “Wait! Watch.”

  Salome rose high off the ground once more, her body shuddering. A roar sounded in Bryton’s ears, an otherworldly tune of a hundred voices in every octave. A slow smile spread across Salome’s face and a peaceful warmth infused her expression. Amazement washed through Bryton with a hearty laugh and certainty repl
aced all fear. He knew that look. Salome was basking in her family before joining with him.

  Magic slowly lowered her to the stone. Her feet touched the ground and one last whispered lullaby echoed with melancholy. The supernatural light faded away and Salome took her first steps as a human woman. She stepped into his arms. A new type of magic pulsed from her. It wasn’t of song or light, or wings and wind, or of spells and charms. It was the undeniable, undefeatable magic of love.

  Epilogue

  “It’s time,” whispered Henic, his second in command.

  Bryton peeked into the hall and his eye went wide. “Fuck. How many people are in there?”

  Henic chuckled. “The hall holds two hundred and the servants brought in more chairs. It seems every lord and noble, knight and tradesman wants to see the wedding of Eldwyn’s conquering hero.”

  “I hate this shit,” Bryton grunted, fingering the stiff new leather over his left eye.

  His mother would have preferred that he and Salome wed in a church but this was more a state ceremony than a private wedding. He was on display. Bryton grimaced, thinking of all the praises heaped, the rewards offered and the accolades granted him. Although Taric knew, no one else was privy to the fact that Salome had had an equal hand in ending the Skullmen’s reign of terror. She wanted it that way and he could deny her nothing.

  The Council of Elders had even given him a title and the plot of land it carried. Not that he would ever do anything with it. No, he wasn’t the Baron of Willowforge. He was the King’s Law and his Might. He was Salome’s beloved. He was Jana’s Papa. Those were titles enough for him.