Heir of Autumn

by Giles Carwyn

  The taste of her lips was so sweet, so tender. Something inside him let go and for the first time in months, Brophy heard the heartrending voice of the Heartstone singing in the back of his mind.

  “I always loved you,” he murmured, and fell asleep in her arms.

  7

  BROPHY…”

  He awoke to Shara’s soft voice, to her hand touching him gently on the chest.

  “The tide is dropping, Brophy. We have to go now.”

  For a moment, he thought he was back in Ohndarien lying side by side with Shara in the shade of a plum tree. He opened his eyes, and she wobbled slowly into focus. He saw her dark skin, the deepest purple. Only the whites of her eyes caught the flickering torchlight. The smell of plum came from her skin, not a tree overhead.

  It all returned to him through the fog of sleep. The aching muscles, the bone-deep exhaustion from swimming day after day, trying to stay afloat, trying to stay alive.

  He smiled weakly, reached up a hand, and touched her soft cheek. “Shara.”

  She climbed off the cot and pulled him to a seated position. “The Giant’s Tooth will open soon,” she said, “and then the guards will come. It will all be for nothing if we don’t go now.”

  Nodding, he grunted and stood up. His body protested as though he’d just run Nine Squares again. He gritted his teeth against the cramps in his legs and wobbled as Shara reached out a hand to steady him. He’d finally reached the limit of his reserves. All he wanted was to lie back down and sleep for a week.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, “let’s not die in the Wet Cells. Not after all of this.”

  He forced his eyes open and looked down at Shara. She was long and slender in the flickering torchlight, dark with the juice of the midnight plum and as naked as a drawn dagger. A warrior woman. A powerful Zelani. His best friend from childhood. And now what? They’d only kissed once, but they already felt like lovers.

  He pictured Ossamyr vividly in his mind, and his heart twisted. The queen was so beautiful, so unreachable, so unknowable. She was the fiery touch that burned up his youth. Ossamyr had slain his childhood as surely as Nine Squares.

  But that long-lost child he used to be had loved Shara all along. Ossamyr had damned him to this place, but Shara had risked her life to pull him out.

  Shara smiled at him. “Come on, Brophy. You can do this. We can do it together.”

  His eyes flicked to the ground. When he’d first met Ossamyr, he’d run headlong toward her, always grasping, always wanting more, like he was chasing a bird he would never catch. And she led him along just far enough to drop him into a chasm.

  “Brophy…” Shara said. She cupped his chin, tried to move his head up to face her, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. If he looked into those eyes, he would fall all over again. He’d never be himself again. It would change him forever.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Steeling himself, he finally turned to face her. “I’m…sorry,” he said. “I wish this had happened for the first time years ago.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes and nodded. “How sweet would that have been?”

  Brophy pulled her to his chest, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. The touch of skin against skin sent a tiny thrill through the fog of his exhaustion.

  “There were so many times I wanted to kiss you, but I never had the courage. I always felt like a child next to you.”

  “I was the same,” she said, returning his embrace. “I just didn’t see it. At least you had the wisdom to know you were still a child.”

  He kissed her on top of the head. “I can’t even remember what that was like,” he whispered.

  “We both grew up far too fast these last few months…”

  Brophy held her close to him, breathed in the scent of plum and seawater. He nearly fell asleep on his feet when she shook him gently.

  “We have to go,” she insisted. “The guards.”

  “I know,” he said, breaking the embrace. “But I’m not myself. I think it’s all catching up with me.”

  “Just a little bit farther,” she said. “Once we’re out, we’ll be safe.”

  He nodded. They each grabbed a torch from the wall sconces, and she lead him out of the guardroom, down the sloping tunnel to the Wet Cells. They passed Dathyl and Locklen, trapped in Brophy’s cell. Locklen lay unconscious against the wall, his ruined arm hung limp at his side. At first Brophy thought he was dead, but then the man twitched in his sleep.

  Dathyl also sat against the wall, next to the bars, but his eyes opened sluggishly when they approached. Brophy knew how that felt. With Locklen’s arm ruined, no doubt Dathyl had swum for two. He glared balefully at them.

  “You’ll never make it out of here alive, Ohndarien,” Dathyl sneered. “You’re dead on your feet.”

  “At least I’m still on my feet.”

  Dathyl sneered, grabbed the bars, and hauled himself upright.

  Brophy was glad to see they were both still alive, but he couldn’t resist returning a bit of the hospitality they had shown him. “At least you’ll only have one more tide to get through before they send enough men to get you out.”

  The former jailor made a rude gesture through the bars. Brophy managed a weak grin. “Don’t crack off and give up this early, what’ll they think of you? They’ll say, ‘now there goes a ’sendrian who’s not worth his salt.’ Swim tall, my friend, swim tall.”

  “You’ll never get out!” Dathyl screamed at them as they walked away. “No one escapes the Wet Cells!”

  “Come on,” Shara said, pulling him forward. “We’ve done enough to those two already.”

  Brophy followed her to the end of the tunnel. She knelt before the twisted metal gate that had once barred the exit. Brophy could hear the distant rumble of the tide far down the tunnel.

  “This is the way I came in,” she said. She reached into a canvas sack hidden just inside the dark tunnel and pulled out a pair of leather gloves and thick pads for his knees. “Put these on, you need them more than me. It is a long rough crawl. It was narrow for me and will be worse for you.”

  Brophy donned the pads and gloves with sluggish, fumbling fingers and followed her through the jagged tunnels. She chose the way confidently as though she had all of the intersections mapped in her mind.

  After half an hour, Brophy’s back and sides were cut and bloody, his cloth pants shredded on the sharp rocks. Shara waited patiently for him as he slithered through a narrow opening, losing skin every inch of the way. The roar of surging water was only a few feet away.

  Brophy was finally able to stand up. They had emerged into a long, sloping tube about twice the height of a man. The surf rushed in and out, frothing over the rough surface like a beach full of daggers. The torchlight played off the jagged walls.

  Shara walked into the surf up to her knees. “We can rest here for a moment,” she said, looking back the way they had come. Her dark eyes glittered. “The tide is nearly out. It is a long swim, I want to make it as short as possible.”

  Brophy sat down just beyond the reach of the surf and tried to slow his erratic breathing. “It’s a long swim?” he asked. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, and the worst was yet to come.

  She nodded. “Yes. It’s a very long swim.”

  Brophy pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside. Every movement was an effort. “I’m sorry, Shara. I don’t know if I can. Whatever strength I had, it’s spent. I thought I could, but…”

  Water splashed as she strode back up the incline and knelt next to him. She pushed his hair out of his face, and he looked up at her. Her dark eyes searched his as her hand traced behind his ear, along his jaw.

  “I can give you the strength,” she said, “if you’ll let me.”

  His chest tightened. “With your magic.”

  “It’s what Zelani were meant to do.”

  “What would that be like? Would you make me a puppet like Locklen and Dathyl?”

  “No. I will
never do that again.” She wedged the torch into a fissure in the rock and took his face with both hands. “With you it would be different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you could let me in. Because I would give you what you want, what you need, not what I want.”

  Brophy’s free hand shook, and he pressed it against the floor to stop it. He’d trusted Krellis, too. He could still feel the powerful man’s fist striking the back of his skull. He’d trusted Trent, and his friend’s last words had condemned him to exile. He’d trusted Femera, and she had lied. He’d trusted Ossamyr, and that had nearly been the end of him.

  Brophy stared at the dark water. He didn’t think he could make an easy swim right now. This one would be the hardest of his life.

  “What will you do then?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Let me show you? I don’t blame you…After what you’ve seen me do. I’m not proud of what I’ve become, but can you give me a chance to make it right? I came here to rescue you, and you saved my life instead. Will you let me finish saving yours?”

  He swallowed hard, his hands gripping the rough rock underneath him. “All right,” he said in a slight whisper. “I’ll trust you. I’ll trust…This one last time.”

  She pushed back his hair again, slowly, deliberately. Her lips touched his, and she kissed him, long and wet. He tasted the salt on her tongue and felt a thrill of fire go through him.

  “Come,” she whispered pulling him to his feet and leading him into the water. “Come with me.”

  They waded down the tunnel until they floated on the water, rocking with the tide as it surged forward and slowly receded. She touched him on his arms, his legs, his chest. Her fingers trailed sparkles across his skin. Every touch seemed to go straight through him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, finding it hard to catch his breath. He could barely see her in the distant torchlight. Her blackened skin melded with the dark water, and she seemed to be everywhere at once.

  “Breathe with me,” she said. “That is the first gate. The breath.”

  Shara took a deep breath, and Brophy joined her. He exhaled and gasped as the pain and weariness flowed out of him.

  “Keep breathing,” Shara said. “Slow and steady.”

  With every inhale, energy surged into his body. With every exhale, pain and fear left him.

  “Let go,” Shara whispered in his ear. “Let me do my work.”

  Brophy closed his eyes and relaxed. Shara’s magic drifted into his body like mist. He had never felt anything so wonderful, so tender.

  He laughed when she removed his tattered breeches and tossed them to the side. She let out a low moan, placed her hands on his shoulders and slid up the length of his body. Wrapping her legs around him, she teased him for a moment. He was so hard, already aching for her. They rose and fell with the tide, and she suddenly pushed herself onto him.

  He gasped. A fireball of energy coursed through him, rushing through his body and out his fingers and toes. His aching muscles seized, then relaxed, then filled with power. He pulled her to him, water splashing as he grabbed her thighs, her back. He moved with aching slowness, sliding in and out of her, each movement more overpowering than the last.

  “Yes!” Shara exclaimed suddenly, arching above him. Her orgasm swept through him like a flash of lightning. His body vibrated with excess energy. He shouted, lifting her into the air above the water as though she weighed nothing.

  “Enough!” He laughed. “Any more and you will kill me.”

  She grinned down at him, dark wet hair plastered against her dyed skin, hanging down around him. “Are you ready then, my love?”

  “Yes,” he gasped. “Oh yes. Let’s go home.”

  They swam to the end of the tube, where it disappeared underwater.

  “Just follow me,” she said, “and everything will be all right.”

  Brophy’s whole body was vibrating. He couldn’t wait to swim, couldn’t wait get to the far side and be inside her once again.

  Shara took a deep breath, and he joined her. His lungs seemed to fill with twice as much air. She gave him a quick smile and dove.

  Brophy swam after her, swam for all he was worth.

  8

  THE SEA BREEZE blew wildly through Brophy’s hair, and he breathed deeply, clinging to the mast at the top of the crow’s nest. He closed his eyes, sent a prayer of thanks to the Seasons.

  The Kherish vessel cut through the waves on an early-morning breeze. He was free. They were headed home. It seemed years since he had run backward through the Physendrian Gate with stones raining down on him, but now he had a chance to return and make things right.

  The ship’s captain was an old friend of Scythe. He and his crew risked a great deal waiting so close to the Physendrian coast, never knowing if Brophy and Shara would emerge from the Wet Cells.

  Brophy’s perch rocked far to port, then leaned back to starboard as the sleek ship rocked the waves. They had just rounded the northernmost corner of Physendria. The Narrows extended to the east and beyond them, Ohndarien. He could not see the Free City’s walls from this distance, but he could see the dip in the mountain chain that her locks cut through. Brophy could picture his home in his mind. He could feel the windmills turning with the wind that blew past him. The Heartstone sang in the back of his mind, sounding louder every moment.

  “I have put you off for too long,” he whispered to the wind. “I won’t fail you again.”

  A golden feather swept past him, so close it brushed his cheek. Brophy turned with it. The crazy wind eddied around the crow’s nest, whipping the feather around in a circle. Hooking his foot around the mast, Brophy lunged out into the air, his hip resting against the rail as he snatched the feather out of the sky.

  He paid for the sudden movement with a wince of pain, but he didn’t mind the price. There were scabs all over his stomach from crawling through the tunnels. He had left a lot of skin behind on his way out of the Wet Cells, but he’d also left his anger. He’d left behind his despair.

  He had never seen a feather this color before, vibrant gold, with tiny veins of dark brown. It was small and curved. He searched the skies for a bird that could have shed it, but there was nothing.

  The crow’s next shifted again, leaning to the other side. Brophy steadied himself and noticed Shara coming up the rope ladder. She also had a feather, held between her teeth. She winked at him as she climbed. The purple on her skin made her look like something out of a storybook. An ethereal faerie from the Southwylds.

  He helped her over the edge onto the platform and plucked the long, black feather from her mouth.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “I might ask the same.” she said, taking the golden feather from his hand.

  “I just caught it.” He spun his hand in a circle. “It was swirling around the mast.”

  “That one blew against my chest as I was climbing.” She pointed at the sleek black feather in his hand. “I was going to give it to you, but you stole it from me first.”

  Brophy grinned as the sheer joy of being free coursed through him. He felt like himself again. He was free to catch a feather from the wind. Free to give it to the woman he loved.

  She leaned over, awkwardly tried to kiss him as the crow’s nest tipped back and forth. Brophy laughed as he clung to the mast with one hand and her with the other.

  “You keep mine. I’ll keep yours,” he proposed.

  She nodded. “All right. This one’s the same color as your hair,” she said, tracing its curve. “And the same shape. I think I’ll make a comb out of it and wear it in my hair.”

  Brophy stared at her, memorizing every bit of her. For a moment, she wasn’t a powerful Zelani. She was just a young woman, a child delighted by a child’s treasure.

  “And I’ll wear yours,” Brophy said, looking at the black feather, the same raven color as Shara’s long hair. “On my heartstone necklace…” He nudged her. “If you ever give it to me.”

  Her h
and went instinctively to the pendant over her heart. She shoved him back. “You’re so impatient,” she said with a sly grin. “You’re like a little child.”

  Brophy scoffed, “Only to an old lady like you.”

  Shara huffed and went low to poke him in the stomach.

  His hand shot out and caught her wrist, just as he had so long ago on the Wheel. The wind swirled around their perch. A sailor in the rigging shouted to his companions below. Brophy held her arm, held her gaze with his own. She didn’t look away.

  He leaned over and kissed her, softly at first, then desperately. He wanted to hold on to the moment forever, but even as their lips parted, the feeling faded. It had always been fading.

  “I love you,” she whispered, saying the words for the first time.

  Brophy’s chest filled with a bittersweet glow. “Why couldn’t this have happened a year ago? Why did it have to be now, when there’s so little time?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. You were just a kid. And I…was trying so hard not to be.”

  He nodded. “Even now, I feel like I’ve barely seen you in the past two days. I hate to waste any time sleeping, but we’ve both been so tired.”

  “How do you feel?” she asked. She wore a Kherish dress, and its long sleeves ruffled in the renewed breeze. The skirts rippled across her legs and fluttered out behind her. It looked strange on her, covering her dark arms and legs, not like the provocative clothing Shara would normally wear.

  “I’m sore,” he said, “and weak. But I’m finally awake. By the Seasons, I’m more awake than I’ve ever been.”

  “And now?”

  The tone of her voice was strange, and he looked at her carefully. “To Ohndarien, of course. Isn’t that where we are headed?”

  “We are currently sailing north. The captain will turn the ship east unless we tell him otherwise.”

  “I have to take the Test. Krellis has ruled for too long.”