You needed to understand what brought him to that. Why he’d want to die.
“Aye.” Odhrán’s expression darkened, and he swam a bit faster. “My own experiences with love had been, shall we say, less successful.” Taren sensed the pain threatening to well up from Odhrán’s soul and knew it best not to ask more questions.
They swam in silence for some time until they reached a reef that stretched into the darkness of the depths. “When Treande gave me the stone,” Odhrán told him as they hovered over the black water, “I promised to guard it well. There are wards you must pass through. Wards Treande himself created. Only the stone’s rightful master may enter, keeper or wielder.”
Odhrán pointed. “The entrance to the cave is there. I will wait for you here.”
You’re not coming with me?
“I cannot. If you are who I know you to be, you can claim the stone.”
And if I’m not the rightful master of the stone? asked Taren.
“Then you will not pass. It is that simple.” Odhrán smiled. In his true form, he was far more beautiful even than before. “But I have no doubt you will return soon. So until then, may your goddess guide your path.”
My goddess?
“Aye. Although I must admit that my belief in her existence has strengthened since you came to me.” Odhrán shook his head. “But we can discuss that later, should you wish it.”
Taren nodded his assent.
“Before you leave,” Odhrán said, “there is something I have that belongs to you.” He motioned Taren to a small reef near the entrance to the cave, then swam down, dug in the sand for a moment, picked something up, and held his hand out to Taren.
The dagger! I thought I’d lost it forever.
Odhrán smiled. “You dropped it during the battle. I went back for it after I brought you ashore. I had a feeling you might need it.”
Thank you. Taren fought the urge to embrace Odhrán but took the dagger instead and gripped it in his hand.
“Be well, Taren.”
Taren nodded and sped off toward the entrance to the cave.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he heard Odhrán say. The thought comforted him.
TAREN FOUND the cave opening on the underside of a large rocky outcropping covered in coral, just where Odhrán had told him it would be. Had he not been looking and had his eyes not been Ea, Taren knew he would have completely missed it. As he entered, he felt the familiar buzz of enchantments dance over his skin, causing his fins to tingle. The sensation ended quickly, replaced by the cool water of the cave.
He’d expected darkness, but as he swam beyond the opening, he realized that much like the caves of Odhrán’s hideout, these caves were lit with the strange rock crystals. Embedded in the walls, they made the water shimmer with light. Curious, Taren pressed his palm to one of the walls. The crystals pulsed with warmth and energy, both familiar and reassuring. Had Treande placed them here, along with the enchantments? He struggled to recall the past but found it ever elusive. If he had more time to spend here, he might have explored the sensation more thoroughly with his gift, but he knew he needed to move quickly. He needed to return to Ian as soon as possible; he would not cause Ian to worry more than he’d already done.
Taren swam onward, and as he did, the tunnel narrowed so that, in spots, he was forced to pivot onto his back and allow himself to be propelled by the steady current through the tight spaces. At last he came to a bend in the passage he could not pass through. Here, stalagmites and stalactites grew from around the tunnel in sharp, uneven spikes.
What now? He couldn’t return empty-handed. Odhrán had warned him the way would not be easy. Was this an enchantment he should be able to pass through? He closed his eyes and imagined the ocean, as he’d done when he and Ian had first entered the Ea settlement on the mainland months before. Nothing happened. He reached out and touched the pointed rocks—they felt solid. Immutable. Even his Ea strength did nothing to move them. He rolled onto his back once more, hoping to squeeze past the rocks, but only succeeded in wedging his tail between them.
I must think! He saw no evidence of a rockslide by the placement of the protrusions. There were more of the lighted crystals here as well, making the way clear. Surely he was meant to pass through this. A man could pass if he opened and closed his legs and worked his way between, but an Ea….
Of course! A man! He’d been so preoccupied with swimming that he hadn’t even considered shifting back into his human form.
Carefully, he pulled his tail free of the rocks. A trace of blood blossomed into the water from where the skin of his tail had scraped the rough points blocking the way. Nothing too concerning, but the wound was a reminder that he could be injured in this form. Nature had balanced his superhuman abilities with vulnerability. Vurin would have appreciated this observation, he thought with a chuckle.
Now freed from the rocks, he willed his body back to his human shape. Unlike the other times when he’d shifted, there was no air to fill his greedy lungs. He forced himself not to inhale the water that remained in his mouth and nose as he pulled one leg, then the other, over the sharp rocks. The salt water stung the scrape on his human leg. He ignored the pain. It would do him no good to waste his energy on anything but the task at hand.
He emerged on the other side of the rocks, intending to transform, but stopped when he saw the narrow space. There was no room to accommodate his long tail. His lungs hurt from lack of air. He could go back, but from what he saw on the other side of the second outcropping, there was enough room beyond to accommodate his Ea form.
Ignoring his discomfort, he made his way over the rocks to emerge on the other side. What had been relief that he would be able to breathe again quickly turned to panic as he realized the passage was far too small for him to transform. He had barely enough space around his human body to move forward.
Goddess, help me!
His mind blurred as he fought the urge to transform. For an instant he thought his body might surrender to his need, but he forced himself to focus on something other than his lungs’ demand for oxygen. If he transformed in this tiny space, he might be too badly hurt to recover. What would become of a broken tail if he was human? The reminder of his torture at Seria’s hands and of what he had done to Taren’s legs still burned brightly in his mind. For a moment he froze, terrified that Seria was close by, ready to hurt him again—a moment of panic that passed as his reason returned and, with it, his determination to survive this trial. He had no intention of dying here. He would return to Ian with the stone.
What had Odhrán said? “The way is fraught with peril.” A vague memory stirred at the thought of Seria. After Ian had rescued him from Seria and the island prison, Taren had dreamed he was drowning, only to awaken to Ian’s voice reassuring him, “You’re nearly there. You’re breathing, aren’t you?” He still remembered the pain in his legs. Had he partially transformed back then?
He closed his eyes and imagined himself shifting only to his waist, his lungs changing along with his chest and arms. He drew in a tentative breath, coughed, then breathed a bit deeper. This time his oxygen-starved body responded and his vision, which had gone completely dark, began to clear.
Thank you, he thought, knowing only the goddess herself could hear him.
Cautiously, he crept over what he now saw was a field of rocks that rose like spikes from the sides of the passage. He made slow progress, but nearly an hour later he emerged into a large cavern. As he fully transformed, he wondered if the obstacles he’d passed hadn’t been placed there for the sole purpose of making the way impassable to anyone but an Ea with the ability to maintain a partial transformation. Later, he would ask Odhrán or Ian if this ability was unusual.
A quick glance at his tail showed that, indeed, his body could heal if he went through the entire transformation cycle from Ea to human and back to his Ea form. Another ability he’d known nothing of. How had he spent months living with Ian and his people and yet learned so little abou
t himself?
I never asked. He’d wasted so much time fighting with himself that he’d not learned a single new thing about his Ea body.
At the edge of the cavern, he found another passage. Unlike the first, this passage spiraled downward and was wide enough that he found it easy to swim. Odhrán had warned him that the stone was hidden deep within the island’s bowels, so he wasn’t surprised that he swam for a long time. The temperature rose with each flick of his tail—Taren guessed that much like Ea’nu, this island had been created by a volcano, now dormant, but ready to reassert itself at any time. The warm water relaxed Taren’s body and reminded him of his time in the hot springs on Lurat with Bastian.
The warm water made Taren feel heavy. Sleepy as well. He spiraled slowly as he swam, allowing the current to pull him forward in a lazy dance. He didn’t notice that the passageway had opened onto a large underwater cavern until he was well into the center of it. The current ebbed, depositing him unceremoniously on the sandy bottom. Had he fallen asleep? He shivered as his body adjusted to the cooler temperature here and the cold water brought him back to his senses.
He looked around for the passageway. There was none. He saw only the rough walls of the cave. He looked above him. The roof of the cavern was solid. There were no openings at all. No way forward. No way back.
Magic?
He ran his hands over the surface of the rock, but he felt none of the telltale signs of a mage’s gift. The rock was solid to the touch. He swam around in circles, seeking the magic he knew must be there. Still nothing.
“It confounds you, doesn’t it?” A familiar voice resonated in his mind.
Who…? Taren pivoted so quickly on one of his tail flukes that he stirred the sand. As the grains settled, he saw a man seated on a boulder that rose from the floor of the cavern. Both man and rock shimmered, even after the water cleared.
“You know who I am, Taren.”
Ian? But how are you here? No, it wasn’t possible. You’re not Ian. Who are you?
Ian—or whoever the man was—ignored Taren’s question. “What do you desire?” he asked again.
I want to find the rune stone.
Ian shifted on the rock, tilted his head to one side, and said, “Far too easy an answer.”
I want to return to the Phantom.
“Again, too obvious.”
Taren bristled at this response. Why had he bothered to answer at all? You’re not Ian. He’d never—
“Never press you?” Ian smiled. “No. He probably wouldn’t. But as you said, I am not he.”
Let me pass, Taren demanded. He had no time for riddles without answers.
“I’m not stopping you,” Ian replied. “The way to enter is yours, if you want it badly enough.”
Taren went back to work, trying to find a hidden opening in the walls of the cavern. He’d hoped to sense the magic but found only hard, unyielding rock beneath his fingertips. You lie. There is no way out of this place. Your magic has—
“What magic do you sense?” Ian’s form faded as the current stirred the sand, the outline of his body becoming leaner, more delicate. His face, too, changed. Ian’s face grew cloudy, then reformed itself.
Odhrán, Taren said. I should have known you were behind this.
“What do you want, Taren?” Odhrán asked.
Always the same question. I’ve told you the answer. What more do you want from me? Taren fought his growing frustration. He’d had enough of tests. Hadn’t he proven himself worthy of the stone? If Treande had created the wards, shouldn’t he be able to pass?
“Do you believe it is that simple, Taren?” Odhrán drew his legs to his chest and smiled. Taren bristled at the look of mischief in Odhrán’s eyes.
I’ve proven who I am to you. Why do you still block my way?
“Aye. You’ve proven it. But are you worthy? I wonder.” Odhrán brushed an errant strand of hair from his face. For the first time, Taren noticed something strange about Odhrán’s face. His eyes were not the color of the water that surrounded the island. They were brown. Like his own.
You… you aren’t Odhrán either, are you?
Odhrán raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together. His expression reminded Taren of a child who hid a secret but wanted the secret to be known.
Who are you?
“I should ask that question of you, Taren,” Odhrán said. “The answer would be the same.”
Taren’s lips parted as he considered Odhrán’s words. I don’t… you are….
Odhrán’s form dissolved in another flurry of sand, then grew more and more solid, coming into focus like the image in a spyglass. Solid and real enough to touch, but not a man this time. Ea. White hair, skin darkened from the sun, with lines that edged his mouth and framed his warm brown eyes. In his mind’s eye, Taren could hear Odhrán say, “They say our true appearance is a reflection of our soul.”
You are Treande. Taren didn’t mean it as a question; he was absolutely sure of this. He’d only ever seen his Ea form reflected in the waves when he swam, but he had no doubts.
“Aye.” Treande smiled gently. Kind. Sympathetic? “Pleased to meet you, Taren.”
You’re… alive?
Treande’s soft laugh echoed in Taren’s thoughts. “Alas, no. Or, should I say, I am not alive in this form. I am only alive in you.”
Then this? I’ve created it?
“You might say we both have. I created this obstacle for you to overcome. You, Taren, dictate its form.”
Taren considered these words. Then the question you asked me…?
Treande nodded. “It is of your making, and I’m afraid you’re the only one who knows the answer.”
But I don’t know the answer. Taren ran a hand over his mouth and tried to understand what Treande had just told him. I’ve answered the best that I can, and each time you’ve told me the answer is wrong.
“Not wrong,” Treande corrected gently. “Incomplete.” When Taren shook his head in response, Treande continued, “There is truth in the answers you’ve given. But the ultimate truth lies deep within your heart. Bound by chains of fear, it struggles to break free of its prison. Speak its name, Taren, and the rune stone is yours.”
Fear? Taren drew a long, slow breath. He’d been afraid to give it a name, but he’d felt it ever since he’d discovered his true nature.
“Aye.”
The lump in Taren’s throat grew as he met Treande’s gaze. How…, he began, unsure of how to ask the question that burned inside, or if he should even ask it.
“You mustn’t be afraid to ask me,” Treande said. “It’s not a sin to want to understand the goddess’s plan for us. Neither is it a sin to ask yourself a difficult question.”
Taren marveled at how strange this was—was he truly speaking to himself? Or was Treande somehow here?
“Both,” Treande answered without hesitation. “What you see is indeed a part of me. A piece of my soul I left behind….”
To guide me, Taren finished.
“Aye.” Treande’s smile faded. The bright warmth in his eyes grew dim, the color fading with the weariness in his soul. “Ask it, Taren. You must understand this in order to understand the truth of your life.”
Taren struggled to master his emotions, struggled to tamp down the grief that welled up in his heart and threatened to overwhelm him.
“You cannot fight it any longer. You must embrace it, or you’ll be forever without a way to move forward.”
Taren knew Treande was not speaking of the cavern or of the enchantments that blocked his way to the stone. Had he not been underwater, he knew his face would be wet with tears. The grief he’d fought to hide rose up from within as he said, How did you survive so long without him?
Treande’s sigh was Taren’s own. “I had no choice.” Treande extended his hand, and Taren saw Owyn’s image appear there. “He would have wanted me to live, even if it was without him. He knew the goddess had a plan for us. He knew someday we’d be reunited.” The ghostly ou
tline of Owyn faded and vanished as Treande turned his attention once more to Taren.
You knew you’d be reincarnated? Taren had clung to this idea—it seemed to explain why Treande could live so long and not lose himself in grief.
“No.” Treande’s smile was wistful. “Owyn once promised he’d find me again in another life, but I never truly believed it.” He laughed, then said, “In the end, he was partially correct.”
Partially?
“Aye. You know now that he was reincarnated, as was I. But he was wrong when he said he’d find me again.” Treande shook his head, then touched his chest over his heart. “The truth is that he never left me. Throughout my life, he was with me. All that I did, all I accomplished, he helped me to do. He was my muse and my soul. The gift of his love was the goddess’s gift to me, although it took me far too long to understand.”
Taren swallowed hard but said nothing, so overcome was he to hear Treande say this.
“I asked the goddess to let me die,” Treande continued. “And yet I lived. I thought she was deaf to my pleas.” He shook his head, his lips pursed, his eyes full of pain. “Only when I understood that I would not die until I allowed myself to live without him did she finally grant my wish.”
Three hundred years? What kind of god would torture you that way? Taren demanded.
“She didn’t torture me. The pain was of my making, Taren. When I finally understood this, I knew great joy again. Friendship. Peace.”
I can’t bear to lose him again.
“You can. And if need be, you will.”
No.
“Aye,” Treande said, “you can. But perhaps this time will be different.”
How do you know it will be different?
“I don’t. But you cannot live your life in fear. I couldn’t bear to see you waste the time you’ve been given with him worrying that you will lose him again. What joy can come of that? Besides, you are not me, Taren. You are unique. My spirit lives inside you, but you have your own destiny.”
Taren said nothing. The thought of living without Ian, without Ian to help guide his way, to help him, was too painful to imagine.
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