by Giles Carwyn
“I know you can manage. But you need sleep. I don’t. Not anymore.” He rubbed his chin, massaging his clenched jaw. “I don’t need to eat or drink, or even breathe. I’m like the corrupted, continually fed by some unseen source.”
“Brophy—”
“Please, get some more rest,” he said.
“Soon,” she promised him. “It’s too cold to sleep now.”
He grunted and looked back at the gray horizon.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked.
“Not really. Somewhere west of Efften. I think the prevailing current flows south here. We probably haven’t made much headway against it.”
“That’s all right. If we don’t make Ohohhom, Arefaine will come to us.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it without saying anything.
“What?” she asked, pushing the canvas aside and standing up.
He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers thought his blond curls. “I wanted to thank you,” he said coarsely.
“For?”
“For finding me. For coming to me.” Again she thought he was going to say more, but he frowned and looked away.
She longed to reach out and pull the words from the tip of his tongue, but she held herself back. They’d gone too fast earlier when Brophy had made love to her like a prisoner attacking the bars of his cage. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“You’re welcome,” Shara said. “There is no place I’d rather be.”
“I’m glad we got to talk,” he said, shifting in his seat. “It’s difficult, trying to be normal again, with you.” She walked softly to him and knelt at his feet. “Me, too. It’s been a long time.”
“It has.”
She watched him, perched on the edge of the boat. It pained her to look at him. Without that feral snarl on his face, he was the boy she’d known eighteen years ago, the boy who let Trent boss him around, who blushed when she discussed her Zelani training. Not a single hair was different. But the moment he looked at her, the moment his green gaze caught hers, that boy vanished, and he was foreign to her.
He was six inches away, but she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t get past the shadows between them.
For eighteen years, he had lived in her thoughts and dreams, a simple, glorious idol to be worshipped. He was always smiling, always beautiful, always in the mood, always focused entirely on her. She’d grown used to loving the idol and had forgotten how complicated the real Brophy could be.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
Brophy shrugged. “According to Oh, Arefaine and I must reach Efften together at all costs.”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe the voice you heard is actually a god?”
“He’s no god. He’s just a man, a mage who turned himself into something very much like the Heartstone.”
“But you agree with him, you want her to go to Efften.”
He shook his head. “Yes and no. Oh wants her to go there so she can take her own life, turning herself into a vast containment stone like her sister did with the Heartstone. He thinks that’s the only thing that can stop the black emmeria.”
“That doesn’t sound like something she would ever do.”
“Of course she won’t do it,” he said, raising his voice. “And even if she tried, I wouldn’t let her.”
“All right.” She looked into his face, wondering what had set him off.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes. “I’m mad at Oh, not you.”
“Why are you angry with him?”
“Because of the way he has treated her. Because of the way the Ohohhim have neglected and manipulated her all these years.”
“What did they do?”
“They conspired to keep her desperately lonely for her entire life.”
“To what end?” she asked. It was difficult to imagine such a powerful sorceress as an abused and neglected child.
“They wanted to drive her into my arms, to make her fall in love with me, and then sacrifice herself to save my life.”
She swallowed. “Is she in love with you?”
“She might have been. But I pushed her away.”
Shara nodded, desperate for more details, but unwilling to press.
“I wanted to tell you,” Brophy continued. “I had sex with Arefaine.”
“I guessed,” she replied, nodding. Hearing the words somehow made her feel better, made him seem less distant. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t exactly been virginal lately either.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
He nodded and then turned toward the sunrise.
“What do you want Arefaine to do on Efften?” Shara asked.
“I want her to see the truth. I want her to see clearly and make her own decision. It’s more than her just being tangled up in the emmeria. I think the Fiend is whispering in her ear.”
“The Fiend?”
“The man from my dreams.”
“The same voice I heard in the emmeria?
“Probably. She thinks the voice in the black emmeria is her father. But once she sees the man face-to-face, I think she will recognize him for what he really is.”
Shara nodded. “And then what?”
“And then we kill him.”
“Do you know how to do that?”
“No, but I know he fears me. And I know he fears Arefaine. He wouldn’t be so bent on controlling her if he didn’t.” He drew a deep breath. “It is amazing what she can do,” he murmured, and Shara felt a pang of jealousy. “She…” He trailed off, looking at Shara, then shook his head. “If the emmeria can be created, it can be destroyed. The Silver Islanders found out how to destroy it. I’ve seen them do it. That man, Reef, told you they just need more time.”
“A hundred years more time,” Shara said, trying not to fear the admiration she’d heard in Brophy’s voice when he talked of Arefaine.
“If that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes,” he said. “We contain the Fiend if we can’t kill him. Or if Arefaine can do it, then so much the better.”
“I agree.”
He paused, looking at her, then smiled. His hand shifted on his thigh, as though he was going to reach for her, but he didn’t. “I’m glad you…see it the way I do.”
She wanted to seize the moment, wanted to bridge the gap between them, but she waited. She was not a patient person. She would rather carve her own flesh than sit there and smile, doing nothing.
“Do you trust Arefaine?” she asked. “Is she an ally or an enemy?”
“I have to make her an ally. I have to make her see. There isn’t any other option. Oh says she is the only one who can destroy the Fiend.”
“Could this voice you heard be lying to you for some reason?”
“No. I don’t agree with Oh’s conclusions, but I trust his facts.”
“But Arefaine’s the one who brought this battle upon us. Ohndarien is destroyed because of her ambitions. Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if she died? If the Silver Islanders have kept the Fiend contained for this long, why not let them continue? Why bring it to a head now?”
She expected him to get angry. She expected him to rush to the defense of this woman he, perhaps, loved.
“Would it be better if I died?” he asked calmly.
“You are not her.”
“But I am,” he said. “I am exactly like her. She brought all of this upon us like…” He paused, breathing hard. “Like I raped you.”
“You didn’t—”
“Stop it!” he said. “Don’t lie to me and don’t lie to yourself! I know what I did! The emmeria is a part of me, the rage, the hatred. And if Arefaine can’t be saved, then neither can I, neither can any of us.”
Shara nodded, remembering how he pulled her out of the darkness in the Wet Cells. “All right, then we save her.”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “The first thing
we need to do is turn her away from that voice pretending to be her father, luring her to Efften.”
“What does he want?”
“Freedom. He wants her to release him from his tower. He’s locked in there somehow, and she’s the blade that can cut him free. But I believe she’s also the blade that can kill him. The Fiend knows it, and he takes a risk bringing her to him.”
“So you have to convince her to listen to you, not him.”
“Yes. I have to convince her to destroy the only love she had ever known in exchange for—”
“Your love?”
“In exchange for my friendship.”
Shara’s chest tightened. “So you don’t love her?”
“I care for her. And I love her after a fashion, but…Not like you mean. I love you, Shara. Always you. Only you.”
She bit her lip, and her hands started to shake.
He watched her with those haunted eyes, and she saw him make a decision. He stood up and took her into his arms. For a moment she saw the boy she’d seen atop the Hall of Windows in those last minutes. Just for an instant. But it was enough to fill her with hope.
“Should we try this again?” she asked.
He slowly, purposefully, rested his head on her shoulder, but his body was as taut as a bowstring. “I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not until this is over. Not until he is dead—”
“Shhh…” she whispered. He lifted his head, and she let him go. “I know what it must feel like. Remember that night in the Wet Cells?”
“This is not the same thing—”
“How is it different?”
He clenched his fists. “He’s in my head! He’s…everywhere!”
“I know,” she said, calming herself with her ani. “But that is exactly how I felt in the Wet Cells. I had become my enemy. I became Victeris. I nearly made you crawl.” She paused, letting the memories come, letting them go. “I went to rescue you because I remembered being in love with you, but it wasn’t love that drove me. It was hate, a sense of crazy vengeance against Victeris.”
“Shara, Victeris was dead. The Fiend is very much alive.”
“So are you, Brophy. He is not stronger than you! You said it yourself. He’s afraid of you.”
He stared at her, breathing through his teeth.
“The rage you feel is his. That is his fear talking. He doesn’t want us together. He knows—”
“I don’t want us together either!” he yelled. “I can’t get anywhere near you!”
Her heart clenched. She was pushing him too far, too fast, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “Think about it, Brophy,” she begged. “He’s a creature of hatred and fear. What would be the one thing he couldn’t abide?”
He looked at her, his green eyes narrowing.
“Yes,” she encouraged.
“Love,” he breathed.
“That was how you reached me in the Wet Cells. That was what banished the darkness. He’s part of that same darkness. We can banish him the same way.”
He spun away from her, grabbing fistfuls of hair on either side of his head. “I don’t want to hurt you again!” he screamed up at the sky.
“You can’t hurt me,” she said softly, her hand hovering near his back, but still she didn’t touch him. “No matter what happens, I’m strong enough to take it. We’re strong enough to take it.”
He shook his head.
“Do whatever you need to let that hate out. Give it to me if you have to. I know how to let it go. Give me your pain, I know how to use it now.”
He turned back to her, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. “I feel like I’m about to do something horrible to you,” he said, his chin quivering.
“No. You’re about to stop doing something horrible to me.”
She bridged the distance between them, placed her hands on his chest, and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. He closed his eyes.
“What do you want?” she whispered. “What do you want most, right at this moment? Let it out.”
“I want to bite you, hurt you.”
“Then bite me. Hurt me. I will be all right.”
She reached up, cupped the back of his head, and drew his face down to her neck.
She felt Brophy’s breath warm on her skin. His lips parted and his teeth slid across her neck.
“Lose yourself and I will find you,” she murmured, thinking of the blazing fire hot on her skin and the albino’s voice as he stood behind her, a red-hot iron rod in his hand. If she could do that for Jesheks, she could do this for Brophy. “Do it,” she whispered. “Just let go and do it.”
His jaws clamped down. The pain shot through her, flooding her body with a golden glow. He pulled back, but she clutched him tighter as she felt the blood trickle over her collarbone and down between her breasts.
“Let go,” she breathed. “Let him go.”
Brophy bit harder, crushing her to him. Her back arched, and she felt her skin tear. He picked her up and threw her to the ground, landing with his full weight on top of her. Her head smacked against the deck, and she cycled the pain into herself.
“Brophy,” she murmured, clutching his back, digging her nails into his skin.
His strained breaths roared in her ear as he bit her higher on the neck. She cried out and forced her hands between them, pushing her pants past her hips. He did the same, tearing at his clothing.
She spread her legs, and he slammed into her, knocking her breath from her lungs. She pushed her hips against him, guiding him inside her, pulling him closer.
“Yes,” she whispered as he threw himself at her over and over, screaming in her ear like an animal. “I’m all right. Let it go. I’m all right.”
His anguished voice filled her head, chasing away the golden glow. His keen of agony was joined by others. A howling cascade of mindless rage poured over her, into her, through her. And for a brief moment Shara was sure that she would die.
Chapter 20
Issefyn hid under the bed, chewing on a blanket. The taste of wet wool stung the back of her throat, but without the cloth between her teeth, she would scream. She had pulled out the drawers under the seamen’s bunk and crawled inside to escape the light. She couldn’t stand the light. It burned her.
She tossed back and forth beneath her tiny prison. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and her bowels had seized. Her chest and stomach ached from curling herself into a tight little ball.
She bit the blanket harder, kicking the hull over and over. The pain in her foot was only a mild distraction, nothing more. It didn’t help, not really. She needed her stone. Speevor should have been here hours ago. The day was nearly over, and he wasn’t here yet.
She flipped over, scraping her back on the underside of the bed. She punched the floor, pulled her own hair, beat her head against the hull. Nothing helped. Nothing!
Where was her stone!?
She would have to take it back, rip the stone from his hands. She could break the door down if she wanted. Could breathe into the Floani form and shatter it with a kick. That idiot Speevor with his sightless black eyes stood just beyond. She could break him, could snap his neck. But the fool wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t even let go of her stone. She’d have to tear it from his grasp, but a dozen more would take his place. She could control them, command them. But HE would be there to stop her. HE! HE! HE! HE had brought her to this. HE would pay.
And it was so bright out there. The light burned her. It was better under here. Pure hell, but better than out there.
Where was her stone? It had been hours. Hours!
Her teeth squeaked as she bit the blanket harder and harder, clenching and unclenching her body. They would bring it before she died. They would have to bring it before she died.
Issefyn heard distant footsteps and scrambled out from under the bed. The lock clicked and turned, and she rushed to the door. Her blouse was open and she held it shut, struggling to stand up straight despite the cramping in her abdomen.
The door swung open, and
Speevor stepped into the room. He paused right in front of her, standing stock-still, staring at nothing. His tunic was almost completely black from the emmeria that dripped down his cheeks. In his left hand, he gripped the containment stone. Issefyn’s heart beat frantically in her chest, and she grabbed it with both hands.
A wave of blessed darkness washed over her, and she gasped. The stone fed her like cool, sweet water flowing through her body. The crushing weight on her skull disappeared. She was able to draw a full breath as her chest expanded and her cramped stomach relaxed. Power surged into her arms, filling her with lightning.
Speevor pulled the stone away, and Issefyn jolted at the separation.
“Not too much now, Mother,” said a familiar voice from across the room. “There’s no need to be greedy.”
Issefyn sneered.
Victeris was lying on her stripped mattress. He smiled at her, and she longed to kill him.
Speevor tucked her containment stone under one arm and stared at nothing. It was in sight and out of reach. Another one of his petty torments. The stone was almost spent. Only the faintest flicker of black floated within it like a snake. HE was a fool, wasting all the precious emmeria on maintaining these shambling simpletons, trying to sail this Summer Fleet to its useless doom!
Victeris chuckled. “Oh, Mother, you seem to have ransacked your room again. Were you in some sort of distress?”
Her lips pulled back against her teeth. “Of course I was! You’re the one who made me wait all day!”
“All day, it’s barely two hours past dawn.”
She spun toward the window. He was right; the sun was still low in the eastern sky. She stared at the horizon, amazed at how easily time had gotten away from her. The light sill pained her, but it was bearable after she’d been with the stone.
She turned to the image of her dead son. “I warn you, shade. Don’t push me any further. I will repay every kindness you have shown me.”
“What?” Victeris chuckled. “What will you do? Make me crawl? Really, Mother. You’re acting like a little girl. Stop fighting me and everything you want will be yours.” He nodded at Speevor, who held the stone out to her.
Issefyn forced her hand—which was already curled to snatch the stone away—to relax. Breathing rapidly, she turned away from it.
