by Giles Carwyn
“What complications?”
“Your captains made a decision in your absence that you may not agree with.”
She frowned. “What decision?”
“They tried to return to Ohohhom.”
“What?” She tried to stand up, but nearly fell and had to cling to the edge of the bed.
“Slowly, please.” His feathery touch on her arm urged her to sit back on the bed. “The Ohohhim fled the battle after you fell unconscious and tried to return to the Opal Empire. I was able to stop them. And we are headed south once again.”
“Why would they flee?” she asked. “And how did you stop them?”
“They fled because they are a cowardly race. You deserve better servants.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come and I will show you. I have a gift for you.”
With a little help from his ghostly hands, she rose to her feet and staggered to the door. Her balance was off, but it was getting better. Bracing herself against the wall, she pulled the heavy door open and walked down the hall to a ladder leading topside.
She climbed the ladder and found the deck of the ship full of Summermen, perhaps a hundred of them. They all stood facing forward, their backs to her. Their loose, garishly colored shirts fluttered in the breeze.
“What is this? Where is Halman?” she asked, feeling dizzy again. There was something horribly wrong with the sailors from the Summer Seas. In her magical sight, they were empty, hollow shells with no life light shining within them. Vague memories of the battle drifted back into her mind. The entire Summer Fleet had been like this.
“Go see for yourself,” her father told her. “You need never fear treachery again.”
Arefaine crossed to the nearest sailor. He turned to look at her, and she drew back with a wince. His eyes were as black as the Heartstone, and dark streaks ran down his face like tiny rivers.
“What did you do to them?” she whispered, trying to make sense of the chilling sight. She had read about the ani slaves and the black tears they shed, but that practice had been forbidden long ago. Her father had led the crusade against them.
“I have indentured them for you.”
“You control these things?” she asked. “You created them?”
“Yes, I did.”
She felt dizzy and her father stepped over to place a calming hand on her shoulder. “How?”
“I will show you sometime, if you wish to learn.”
She shook her head, unable to look away. “How many are there?”
“Thousands.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide this from me?”
Her father lowered his eyes, the pain clearly written on his face. “I wasn’t sure how you would react. Conscripting lesser beings into a greater cause is always an unpleasant matter, something I wanted to protect you from. I can’t help thinking of you as a child that needs to be sheltered.”
Arefaine stared at the depthless black eyes of the man in front of her. It was the same blackness that rushed to her aid in her time of need, the same blackness that consumed Brophy as he clung to the bridge. It made her sick to her stomach, but she remembered her Carriers’ betrayal and swallowed down her feelings.
“I am no longer a child. I have done whatever is necessary to return to Efften, and I will continue to do so.”
“Of course. I know you will. But there are still things I wish you never had to see.”
“That is very sweet, but what you have done to them is no worse than my sending men to die in battle,” she insisted. “You are right. Such servants will not betray me, and we will need manpower to rebuild Efften.”
“Yes we will. I am so glad you can understand.”
Arefaine wandered through the black-eyed Summermen, her head spinning. She’d had no idea her father was this powerful. Even from his prison he could create and direct such an army. What would she be capable of someday?
“Can you show me how to control them?” she asked.
“Certainly,” he said with a smile. “Watch what I do.”
She felt the ani coalesce around the nearest Summerman. He was young, less than twenty. His purple shirt had been ripped open, exposing his muscular chest. She saw the way her father reached into his body and coaxed his limbs to life. The handsome young man dropped to one knee and drew his sword with a flourish. “May I have this dance, my lady,” he said in a monotone.
Arefaine grinned and reached into the man next to him. There was no resistance as her mind slipped into his body like a hand into a glove. She wanted him to step forward, and he did so immediately. It was as if he were connected directly to her thoughts, her very desires.
“Step back,” she made him say. “The lady is with me!”
“Do you dare to back those words with steel?” the first one said, spinning his blade around. She looked at her father’s shade, and his eyes glinted in amusement.
“Certainly,” Arefaine made her man say. “But I warn you, I have friends!”
Arefaine slipped her mind into four others and made them draw their swords in unison.
“I have friends as well,” her father’s puppet replied, and half the men on the ship drew their swords.
Arefaine laughed with delight as her men raced to brace her father’s. The whole ship exploded into battle as she sent her toy soldiers against her father’s. Summermen leapt around the deck, swinging their swords in exaggerated arcs.
It wasn’t fair. She’d only grabbed a few, and her father had taken the rest.
What happens if I do…this? she thought, reaching out to try to take one of her father’s Summermen from him.
This time, there was resistance, but with a playful push she knocked her father’s influence out of the man, grinning at his shade as she did so.
He seemed surprised, but his men leapt upon the sailor she had taken from him, continuing the mock battle. The swords rang and blows were landed, but the weapons had no effect on the indentured.
At first, her men were pushed steadily back, but she soon grabbed another Summerman from her father’s control, and then another. Giddy at the use of her power, she took them all one by one until the entire crew was hers. All save the first one her father had taken.
After a token resistance he backed off, but the practice was good. It came so naturally.
Her father watched her strangely, a wrinkle in his brow, but when she turned to look at him, her face glowing, he merely smiled tolerantly.
That handsome young man who first came to life walked forward and bowed at her feet. “My lady, forgive this unseemly display, but I could not abide the thought of you with another man. My heart, my life, and my sword are yours if you would have them.”
Arefaine reached down and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. Leaning forward, she brushed her cheek against his and whispered in his ear, “Perhaps tomorrow.” She shoved him away and caused the rest of the crew to circle her father’s shade and draw their swords in salute. She laughed and felt like she did the moment she’d stood up to dance with Astor. Like chains were falling off her, like anything would soon be possible.
“It is such a joy to see you laugh,” her father said, walking up to her. He cupped her cheek with his ghostly hand. “I haven’t played like that in a very long time.”
“I’ve never played like that.”
“You will soon,” he promised. “Every day.”
She nodded, looking into her father’s startling blue eyes, longing for his embrace. This was what it was like to have someone who truly understood her, who could do what she did, who wasn’t afraid of her power. She wanted to dance with him. She wanted to run and swim, learn and debate, create and build with their magic. She wanted to live, truly live. And for the first time she felt like that wish was coming true.
“Come,” her father said. “There is one more task you must perform before we are rid of the Islanders forever.”
He motioned her forward and she caused the black-eyed Summermen to make
a path for them as they walked to the front of the boat. But Arefaine didn’t look them in the eye. The sight of their black orbs still made her uneasy.
Her father led her to a canvas-covered rowboat near the bow. As she drew closer, Arefaine felt a strange sensation, as if she were being pulled toward the little boat.
“What is in there?” she asked.
“Pull the canvas back and see for yourself.”
Reluctantly she pulled back the stiff cloth and peered inside. Dozens of chests packed the bottom of the little craft. She flipped open the lid of the nearest, then stepped away.
“Do not touch it, my child,” her father advised. “It would be death to you.”
Arefaine stared at the chest full of little crystals, swirling with rainbow colors.
“This is what the Islanders attacked me with,” she said.
“Yes. It is the same perversion of the sacred fire the barbarians use to create the Siren’s Blood.”
“Is that why I cannot see them with my magical sight?”
“Yes, they swallow these crystals to hide from our illuminated sight.”
“Just looking at it hurts.”
He nodded. “If any form of magic touches those crystals, they explode. That is how they defeated us so long ago. And it nearly worked a second time.”
“What should I do with it?”
“We could take it to Efften with us, study it, if you wish.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be anywhere near it. Throw all this overboard,” she said to the Summerman next to her. “Dump it into the sea.”
Four of her ani slaves stepped forward, hoisted the little rowboat over the rail, and overturned it. Chest after chest fell. One of the lids cracked open, creating a shower of rainbow-colored crystals. One after the other, they hit the water and sank below the surface.
Chapter 2
Shara turned and kissed the warm, rough fingers caressing her cheek. “Brophy?” she murmured.
Then she caught his smell.
She leapt out of bed and smacked her head against the wall, pulling the linen from the mattress as she tried to scramble backward.
“You? How?” she gasped, fighting to regain her bearings.
Jesheks rose from the edge of the bed, staring at her with his red eyes. But this was not the man she knew. The Kherish Necani now had a swath of long white hair, broad shoulders, and thick muscles under white skin smooth as ivory. She tried to push through his glamour to see the obese man underneath, but she couldn’t break his spell. Or there was no spell.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally rising above her panic.
“I came to save your life.”
She was in a modest ship’s cabin. The small bed and even smaller table and chairs were the only furniture. The walls were covered with carvings of the nine Physendrian gods. The ship was heeled over slightly, obviously sailing under a gentle breeze.
Shara tried to trace back how she had gotten here. What had happened? How long had it been?
“You put me to sleep,” she said, remembering his hand on her forehead. “And you…” She paused. “You saved me from Issefyn.”
He nodded. “I did.” His new body was profoundly unsettling, like he was an impostor in the realm of beauty. Even his red eyes were different. They had lost their superior glint and had become darker, haunted.
Shara took a long breath and smoothed the front of her dress. Someone had garbed her in a light shift with short sleeves. She couldn’t help imagining his white fingers sliding over her skin as he undressed her sleeping body.
“Why have you done this?”
“Because you would not have come with me if I asked.”
Shara took a deep breath, leery of the raw emotion she saw in the Necani mage’s eyes. His complete transformation set her off guard. Had he stolen her away from Brophy for this? For some petty seduction? Or had he actually fallen in love with her?
“Where are you taking me?” she cautiously asked.
“Away from here. These waters are not safe for you—or anyone—right now.”
Shara nodded. “I appreciate what you did for me during the battle, but I need to get to Efften. You had no right to bring me here against my will.”
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Wise or not, I have to go.” She stepped off the bed and headed for the door. Jesheks stepped into her path, blocking the narrow doorway with his body. Shara felt a sudden surge of fear as the albino mage loomed over her. Had he grown taller?
“I need to find Brophy,” she said in a low voice, gathering her power for a fight.
Jesheks gathered his own power. He wasn’t drawing the energy from pain. He was drawing it from…
She took a step back, glancing at the front of his simple sailor’s trousers where the fabric was stretched tight by his erection.
He followed her eyes and grimaced. “You are overwrought. I understand.”
She shook her head, shielding herself from the crude Zelani energy swirling around him. His desire, and fears, pulled at her. Had he done all this—had he re-created himself—for her?
“I have to find Brophy,” she said again, steadying herself with that mantra. She sent her ani outward, doing a quick search of the ship to see if there were others she had to worry about. The deck was lined with weeping ones.
“Shara, please, I don’t doubt your strength or conviction. But I don’t think you understand what you are facing. The man Brophy and Arefaine rush to meet is beyond their power to contain. The weapons at their command will be useless against him. If you follow Brophy to Efften, you will die with him, and we will lose our only chance of—”
“Jesheks,” she said, fighting to keep her temper. “You presume too much. There is no we. We were nearly friends once, but that is all. You saved my life, and I am grateful. But I’m not running away with you to continue your Zelani training. I need to find Brophy immediately. If you want to help me, I would love that. But we will both regret it if you try to stop me.”
Jesheks stared at her, the jaw muscles standing out against his pale skin. He had to swallow before speaking. “Neither of us wants to live in the world the man in that tower plans to create. If you come with me and ‘continue my training,’ as you say, then we might have a chance of defeating him.”
Shara looked into his eyes, trying to spot a lie, but she couldn’t see one. “What do you know about the man in that tower?”
“I know everything. I have drunk the Siren’s Blood. I can’t imagine many who could have journeyed deeper into that agonizing darkness than I did.”
“You know how to defeat him?”
“I have a theory, but I need your help and time to put it into practice. Time we will not have unless we get away from here.”
“So the only way to stop him is for you and me to run away and become lovers. How very convenient for you.”
He winced at her words. “Unkind, Shara. Have I ever lied to you?”
“No, but you seem perfectly willing to abduct me.”
“Your safety is paramount.”
“As is your personal agenda,” she said, fearing she was pushing him too hard. The man was clearly obsessed with her. The transformation he had wrought upon himself was nothing short of amazing. If she had more time, she could have been gentler with him. But she might already be too late.
Jesheks closed his eyes and held up a hand to pacify her. “My apologies. You are right. I want…” He struggled for the words. “Some of my motivations are selfish, but I never intended to hold you against your will. If I intended to imprison you, I would have kept you asleep.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was taking a chance that I might see a certain look in your eyes when you woke.”
Shara frowned, refusing to let go of her anger. “You didn’t find what you were looking for.”
“No, I did not.” The albino kept his features rigidly in check, but she could feel his em
otions writhing beneath the surface. She didn’t know whether to fear him or feel sorry for him.
With a sigh, Jesheks stood aside. “This was obviously a mistake. I’ll take you to Efften immediately if that is what you wish.”
“Thank you,” Shara said, brushing past him and heading for the ladder.
She climbed the rungs quickly, suddenly eager to get as far from the Necani mage as possible. She emerged onto the deck amid a small crew of the weeping ones. In the distance, she saw the isle of Efften, just a bare speck on the waves to their rear.
Jesheks followed her. She felt the ani swirl between him and the weeping one manning the helm. He spun the wheel and the Physendrian ship slowly tacked back toward the wind. The ship leaned as its course altered and several weeping ones moved to adjust the sails.
Shara was about to thank him, but Jesheks turned away and raised his hood, shielding his sensitive eyes from the bright sun. And Shara’s gaze.
“If this wind holds steady,” he said, “we should dock on Efften well before sunset.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Jesheks nodded, still not looking at her. His burning gaze was fixed on Efften.
Chapter 3
Arefaine leaned over the prow of the Islander ship, trying to catch a glimpse of the harbor around the trees. The five mage towers had risen above the horizon hours ago, like silver beams of light. She watched the morning sun glinting off them as they grew ever larger and more beautiful. The wave of euphoria that had passed through her when she first saw them still hadn’t left. Her whole body vibrated with anticipation. She and her father had finally done it. They had returned home to Efften. There were no Silver Islanders to stop them now, and the City of Dreams belonged to the illuminated scions once again.
Even at a distance she could tell Efften had been completely overrun by the jungle. She had expected the city to be in ruins, and was surprised so much had survived the centuries of weather and neglect. The towers rose as the sentinels of the city, the guardians of the mages’ secrets. They still stood proud and strong, an eternal testament to the power of beauty and imagination. She could scarcely imagine the wonders that had been wrought within them. If the towers were still here, all else could be rebuilt.
