Spirit of the Sea Witch

by Tara West

  The old woman scowled up at him, shooing him away as if he was a fly buzzing about her head. “Your breath is too stifling. My breasts do not need another excuse to stick to my stomach, Tan’yi’na. Please assist the healers with Lydra.”

  The massive dragon shrank back as if he’d been slapped, then he dropped his gaze to the ground when the old woman wagged a finger in his face, clucking her tongue. “Do as I say!”

  She turned to Dianna with a sweet, grandmotherly smile. “She will not be harmed, child. You have my word.”

  A light breeze tickled the nape of Dianna’s neck. Trussst, came a soft whisper in her ear.

  She looked around for the owner of the voice. Could the Elements be speaking to her? They wanted her to trust this old woman, whose dragon had nearly killed them? She had to be mad to be contemplating the advice of an unknown voice. But what choice did she have? Her dragon couldn’t fly with so many injuries. Dianna knew neither of them would survive the desert’s hostility much longer.

  She kissed Lydra’s cold scales and whispered soothing words into her ear, promising to return swiftly. Then she took the deity’s outstretched hand, sucking in a hiss when the old woman squeezed her burned flesh. She did her best to keep her knees from giving way as they walked hand-in-hand beneath the stifling shadow of the fire dragon.

  She had completely given over Lydra’s life and hers to the fate of these sand people and their monster, blindly believing in the whispered promise of the wind. Elements save them all, she hoped she wasn’t walking into a trap.

  * * *

  “You’re awake.” Alec knelt beside Ryne, handing him a cup of black coffee, praying to the Elements that Ryne had recovered from his sickness.

  “Yes,” Ryne grumbled, clutching the tin cup and blowing the steaming liquid.

  Alec cast a wary glance at the giant, who was giggling like a tot while splashing in the river, soaking his grumbling companion’s bedrolls.

  “Do you feel well?” he asked Ryne, inwardly cringing when his friend glared at the giant.

  Ryne turned his gaze back to the cup, frowning. “As well as can be expected.”

  Tar bounded up to his master, soaked to the bone and tail wagging like a cyclone. Ryne smiled when his companion licked his face, then swore when he shook water all over him.

  “Shoo!” Ryne hollered, sloshing coffee on his legs and waving off his dog. “Bad boy!”

  Tar whimpered and scurried off, tail between his legs, seeking comfort with the dwarf Grim, who fed him a scrap of meat, leveling Ryne with a glare.

  Ryne returned the dwarf’s glare, making Alec shift uncomfortably. When Ryne turned back, Alec could read the simmering rage in his pale orbs.

  “How many days until we reach Aloa-Shay?” Alec asked, hoping to divert Ryne.

  Ryne swallowed several gulps of coffee, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Another week at best.”

  Alec swallowed, bracing himself for Ryne’s reaction. “Grim says he knows a shorter route.”

  Ryne arched a brow. “Grim?”

  “The dwarf.” Alec swallowed, averting his eyes. “He travels in that direction and has agreed to take us to the neighboring village.”

  If it was at all possible, Ryne’s cold features hardened even more. “We are not traveling with them.”

  “Why not?” Alec straightened, gesturing at the giant as she stomped through the river, no doubt crushing every hapless fish that swam downstream. “Can you think of a better protector?”

  Ryne nodded to his mutt, who was begging the dwarf for more scraps. “We have Tar.”

  “A dog?” Alec snickered. “He cannot compare to a giant.”

  Ryne’s voice rose as crimson flushed his blue-tinted face. “Have you forgotten she almost killed Ven and me?”

  “I have not forgotten, and Grim promises she will not hurt you again.”

  “You expect me to take this dwarf’s word?” Ryne’s scowl deepened as he nodded toward Grim, who had enlisted Des to help him unwind a long trapping net on the shoreline. “He could be leading us all to his daughter’s giant cauldron. Did you not think he’s only being friendly because we’re her next meal?”

  Alec refused to believe it. If the giant wanted to eat them, she could have easily done so while they slept. “If you have no faith in my judgment, then look at the dogs.” Tar and Brendle were happily sitting at the dwarf’s heels. “You yourself said dogs are excellent judges of character.”

  “Yes.” Ryne laughed. “When they’re not begging for scraps.”

  But the dwarf’s kindness toward the dogs was a testament to his character. Not only had he given the dogs their fill of scraps, but he’d also shared several pies with Des. Above all, Grim’s love and adoration of his beast of a daughter said more about the man’s heart than anything. Grim was a good man and a good father—the complete opposite of the man who’d sired Alec, which made Alec even more inclined to trust him.

  Alec crossed his arms, watching Grim hand the net up to his child. “The dwarf promises a safer route, and with a giant as a companion, I can’t think anyone would attempt to do us harm. Ryne, I have more than just my safety to consider. I have to think of Des.” Alec had made a promise to Dianna to keep Des safe, and he had every intention of honoring his word. He braced his legs apart, forcing himself to meet Ryne’s glare. “You and your men may take your route, but Des and I follow the dwarf.”

  Ryne threw up his hands. “Perhaps I should turn over the entire expedition to you then?”

  Tar and Brendle started barking, running up and down the riverbank as if their paws were on fire. Des let out a squeal, jumping up and down as the giant hauled up a net of at least fifty flopping fish and tossed it on the shore.

  Grim bowed, sweeping his hand at the feast. “Breakfast is served, lads.”

  Alec clapped his hands, offering the giant a warm smile. “Well done, Gorpat.” He turned to Ryne, his tone as firm as his spine. “My decision is final, Ryne. I have fish to fillet.” Ignoring Ryne’s grumbling, he unsheathed his boning knife and walked away.

  Luc and Filip had forgotten their previous grudge against the giant and were happily whistling while stoking the campfire and pulling pans and spices out of their sacks. Only then did the weight of worry lift off Alec’s chest, and he knew the ice dwellers would follow his lead.

  Chapter Four

  The old woman led Dianna across a field of cracked soil to the wide mouth of a cave, where a dozen armed guards were waiting. Though what use were the guards when the deity had a fiery dragon at her disposal? Tan’yi’na followed them, keeping just close enough that Dianna felt his hot breath at her heels. He crept on all fours like a cat toying with a mouse, and Dianna suspected he was trying to frighten her into believing she was one snap of the jowls away from being his next meal.

  His plan worked. Dianna’s knees quaked with each step, and her gut churned. Fortunately, the cave did not look wide enough for him to fit through, and Dianna would soon rid herself of the menacing dragon.

  As she approached the guards, she noticed they, too, were dark-skinned, like the robed healers who’d stayed behind to tend to Lydra. These men had broad, barrel chests, long, matted locks of hair, and gold bands encircling wide, muscular arms. What was more disturbing than the long bronze spears they carried was their obvious lack of clothing. Their tattooed chests were bare, and their loins were covered with slips of golden cloth that exposed their thick thighs. They were magnificent. She only wished they’d cover themselves more.

  The deity, as pale as a sheet of ice, looked nothing like her people. During that brief moment when her ivory head had been exposed to the scorching sun, Dianna feared the old woman would shrivel up like over-ripened fruit. Surely the deity had not been made for this climate, yet here she was, a goddess among the desert people. She was sure the woman’s origin had to be a fascinating tale.

  Fortunately for Dianna, the cave opening was too narrow for the dragon. As Dianna was about to cross the cave’s
threshold, the beast shot into the air, raining dust down on all of them as he shook his massive wings. The old woman jutted a fist up at him, a litany of unfamiliar words pouring from her mouth as Tan’yi’na circled above them like a hawk looking for his next meal.

  Dianna was glad to be free of him. She breathed a sigh of relief when the guards flanked her back. She’d take bronze spears over hot dragon breath any day.

  “You must forgive Tan’yi’na,” the deity said, pulling Dianna to a halt. “An old grudge festers deeper than an open wound.”

  She winced when the old woman squeezed her sore hand.

  “You’ve burnt yourself, child.” She smoothed bony, crooked fingers over Dianna’s.

  Much to her amazement and delight, a soft, white glow pulsed between their joined hands, and soon her charred fingertips were as smooth as a babe’s.

  She squeezed her hand shut, amazed when she didn’t feel the slightest bit of pain. “How did you do that?”

  The woman patted Dianna’s hand before linking arms. “A little healing spell my father taught me years ago.”

  She barely felt the weight of the old woman as she leaned into her. When the deity traced Dianna’s vest pocket, she pulled away, fearing the woman was trying to discover her stone. But how would the deity have known about Sindri?

  “I didn’t hear you recite a spell,” she said, unable to keep the mistrust out of her voice. Why had the old woman touched her pocket? Did she know she kept the stone there?

  “Oh, I used to,” the deity said casually as she took the arm of a nearby guard, letting him lead her to a set of stone stairs that descended into a dark cavern. “But now it’s become second nature. All I have to do is think of the spell I wish to invoke, and the magic comes to me.”

  “You are lucky your magic does your bidding,” she said, warily eyeing the stairs. They were narrow and slick, vanishing into a black abyss.

  “Why wouldn’t it?” The old woman stopped, turning to Dianna and looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. “’Tis my magic.”

  “Yes, of course.” She forced a laugh. Perhaps she didn’t want this woman knowing she didn’t have that kind of control over her magic, just in case the old woman’s kindness was a ruse. Yes, Dianna had healing powers, and she was getting better at manipulating the Elements. However, her magic was nothing compared to the old witch’s. She could heal small wounds, though it took hours to coax her magic into doing her bidding. Dianna’s healing skills were with herbals and brews. What this witch had done required no brewing, and it appeared to take little effort. She had an insane notion the deity could teach her how to wield her magic, but why would anyone want to help Madhea’s daughter become more powerful?

  They navigated a maze of tunnels and cool stone stairs that spiraled steeply downward. The pungent air was heavy with moisture and smelled faintly of fungi, molds, and other strange scents. Traversing the wet and sometimes slippery stairs took far too much of concentration. She almost lost her footing three times before a guard took her by the elbow, leading her the rest of the way. She was ashamed. Despite the old woman’s cane, she navigated better than Dianna, and the guards floated down the steps as if they were made of smoke.

  They ended up in the center of a cavern large enough to fit several dozen Tan’yi’nas, dimly lit with wall sconces whose flames reflected off the damp walls and cast an eerie glow resembling millions of tiny stars dancing across the ceiling. The room was humid yet not as stifling as above. More unnerving than the cavern’s size and space was the swarm of people that easily numbered in the thousands, all standing below the stone dais which Dianna found herself upon. They glared up at her.

  They were dark-skinned and decorated with jewels and gold. Many women carried babes on their backs or hips, and their thick, dark hair was piled in intricate weaves on top of their heads. The men were strong and muscular, barely clothed like the deity’s guards. Their expressions communicated hatred and mistrust, their full lips twisted into angry scowls. Dianna move closer to the deity.

  The old woman must have sensed Dianna’s unease, for she took her hand and squeezed, her golden eyes shining as she smiled. “Do not fear, child,” she said with a wink, flashing a toothless grin. “These are my people, the Kyanites.”

  Kyanites? She surmised they must have been named for their dead goddess, Kyan, and she wondered how many among them had inherited magic.

  The deity held up their entwined hands. “Children of Kyanu, I present to you Dianna, daughter of Madhea—”

  The crowd collectively gasped. Children hid behind their mother’s skirts, and men and women unsheathed knives.

  “Put down your weapons!” The deity squeezed Dianna’s hand so hard, she feared her fingers would snap. “The Elements have spoken. She means us no harm. Dianna is a powerful witch, but she is not responsible for her mother’s sins. She and her dragon have come seeking sanctuary from Madhea’s wrath, and we shall treat her with kindness.”

  Dianna swallowed a lump of unease as the grumbling Kyanites sheathed their weapons. She sent up silent thanks to the Elements for speaking to the deity on her behalf. She only hoped the old woman’s forgiving nature would last, for she knew without a doubt, the deity’s followers would not hesitate to slash her throat.

  * * *

  Dianna was led to a small chamber that reminded her of a temple, beautifully painted with several seven-pointed stars. Vivid green moss and intricate tapestries covered the walls, and flowery plants hung from roots that grew from cracks in the ceiling, twisting around each other like a natural trellis.

  Two young servants helped the deity out of her cloak and into an ornate wooden chair that resembled a fairy throne. Carved into the back of it was a seven-pointed star with the words, “The light from a falling star illuminates the path for others.”

  She couldn’t help but notice the old woman’s thin arms poking out of her soft, pale gown, reminding her of brittle, frost-covered branches of a dying tree. The deity looked even older than the prophet Dafaur, who was rumored to be hundreds of years old.

  Knowing it was rude to stare, she gazed at the raised pool in front of them. Carved of stone, it resembled a volcano, with swirling mists pouring out of the funnel and fanning out across the floor, obscuring her feet in wispy clouds.

  The deity motioned to a wooden table between them laden with breads, fruit, cheese, and drinks. “Please have some wine and bread. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  A young, pretty serving girl handed Dianna a goblet filled with red liquid. She thanked the girl and greedily drank the wine. It was refreshingly cool and slightly sweet, with a hint of spice. She finished and set the goblet down, pleased when the girl refilled it. She knew her head would swim if she drank another glass, but it quenched her thirst and washed away the bitter dust that had coated her mouth for weeks.

  By the time she finished the second cup, her world tilted to one side. She piled a wooden plate high with food and greedily ate. The brightly colored fruits were tangy and sweet, and the breads and cheeses had the same subtle hint of spice as the wine, a pleasing foreign taste that lingered on her tongue long after she swallowed the last bite.

  She took one more swallow of her third glass of wine and then sat back in her chair, burping into her fist. “Thank you.” She paused, smiling at the deity. What was she supposed to call her? My deity? My queen? My holiness?

  As if the old woman sensed her hesitation, she flashed a toothless grin “Feira. You may call me Feira.” She patted Dianna’s hand. “We are cousins, after all.”

  Her world tilted to the other side as she clutched her goblet to her chest. “We are?”

  Feira nodded, the reflection of the swirling mist dancing in her eyes. “The benevolent goddess, Kyan, your mother’s sister, was my grandmother.”

  “Oh, I-I didn’t know.” Unease hardened her veins as realization settled in her brain like a thick fog. My mother murdered Feira’s grandmother.

  “Well, of course you didn’t.” The
old woman winked, holding up her goblet so a serving girl could fill it. Then she waved the girl away. “You will forgive Tan’yi’na for attacking you. He served my grandmother before me, and as you may have heard, Madhea murdered Kyan and her daughters.” Feira fixed Dianna with a steady gaze, taking a long, slow sip of wine.

  Dianna set her goblet on the table beside her with a trembling hand, recalling the prophet Dafaur sharing her campfire one night and telling her the story of how Madhea had turned the goddess Kyan and her daughters to stone. She had thought the story only fable until she discovered the warming stone with the spirit of a girl named Sindri, who claimed to be her cousin, trapped inside. As if Sindri sensed Dianna was thinking of her, the stone warmed her vest pocket, throbbing like a heartbeat. She tried to ignore the sensation. She did not trust Feira enough to reveal her magical stone and quite possibly the source of her new-found power.

  She folded her hands in her lap, trying to stop them from shaking. “I am truly sorry for the loss of your family. I have heard the tale from the prophet.”

  Feira arched a white, bushy brow. “Dafaur or Odu?”

  Dianna swallowed a lump of granite. This old woman knew of the prophets? What else did she know? “Dafaur,” she managed to say, though her chest tightened with unease.

  Feira leaned closer, her eyes narrowing to slits. “And what of his brother, Odu? Do you know him as well?”

  The air between them grew stagnant. The look in her eyes reminded Dianna of the wonderment in her young brother Desryn’s eyes whenever she carved him a new wooden toy.

  She shook her head, feeling the keen stab of Feira’s disappointment as if it was her own. “No, he dwells with the ice people, but my half-brother Markus has met him.”

  Feira sat back, smoothing the wrinkles in her gown and staring at her bony fingers. “And how fare the prophets?”

  She knew the old deity had a special connection to these brothers, particularly Odu. Had he been a lover? “Old and somewhat perplexing,” she answered honestly, then cringed, regretting her choice of words.