by Anna Carven
Suddenly, it occurs to me that the black claws that have so securely contained me are the very same that scratched my skin and delivered Vyloren’s toxic magic into my body.
This time when she picked me up, however, she was careful not to put a single scratch upon me. The sharp, poisonous tips of her claws are interlocked in such a way that they point outwards, unable to touch me inside my temporary cage.
What does it all mean?
I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. For now, I’ll just have to try and get comfortable inside my temporary enclosure and appreciate the view.
Her talons are long and smooth and black, and each one is about the size of a man’s leg. Inside her half-closed claws, I’m forced into an awkward sitting position; bent forward with my legs crossed and my arms bound behind my back. At least I’m able to look down through the gaps and see the spectacular landscape below.
For a moment, I’m transfixed.
The mountains are immense and ancient, just like the dragon. I see vast peaks and valleys and ridges, all covered in glittering snow so pure and white that it’s blinding. I see formidable cliffs, hewn from dark grey stone.
This part of the world is so remote and hostile that not a single soul dares to try and exist here. There isn’t a single dwelling or trail in sight. There’s no way mankind could make a mark here.
So this is what Vyloren sees.
When one sees the world from a dragon’s perspective, everything else pales into insignificance.
Well, almost everything.
Amali shines in my mind like a beacon, invading every fiber of my being as the freezing mountain air whips around me. The memory of her soft skin beneath my fingertips makes my phantom hands tremble. My fever burns a thousand times hotter.
Come back to me. Her delicious, throaty voice echoes in my mind; it resonates through my soul.
It makes my heart sing, even when I’m trapped inside a dragon’s claws.
Cursed gods, I need her.
I close my eyes and make fists with my invisible hands. Then I open them and feel the wind rushing through my fingers.
How is this possible?
The answer lies with the dark bastard that visits me in my dreams. He comes only when it suits him. Right now, he isn’t playing my game. He’s gone utterly silent. I suspect he’s drawing out my suffering on purpose, to make me desperate; to break my resolve.
Power.
Would I accept it from him now when I have so defiantly refused him in the past?
Yes.
Of course I would.
To crush the Ven.
To destroy the Midrian Empire.
To keep my Amali safe and protected for all eternity. To keep her as mine.
For her sake, I would become a monster; a complete and utter devil, even if the solution turns out to be worse than the problem itself.
See, I am selfish like that.
Nine
Amali
I stare up at the cloudless blue sky, squinting against the harsh sun as droplets of salty spray fall on my upturned face.
Those Midrian bastards have suspended me beneath the long navigation pole at the front of the ship, which, as I picked up from the sailors as they talked amongst themselves, is called a bowsprit.
Just below the bowsprit is a carved golden statue of Elar, god of light. He leans forward with his arms outstretched, his arrogant visage tilted upwards, his gleaming body bulging with muscle. A carved loincloth barely covers the distinctly exaggerated bulge of his cock, which has been fashioned in such a way that it appears erect beneath the cloth.
They have fastened me to this silent golden god in such a way that I am lying beneath him with my arms wrapped around his torso and my legs curled around his hips and ass. They have tied me to him with thick loops of rope as if I’m a carcass from the hunt, trussed up on a carrying pole.
It’s lewd and degrading, the way they’ve tied me. One of the Midrian soldiers even made disgusting jokes as the sailors tied me here, but he was quickly silenced by the superstitious sailors, who couldn’t be happier to see the back of me.
Cursed fools.
What do they think they will achieve by tying me to this ridiculous statue?
Supposedly, Elar’s divine power will neutralize my dark forest magic. If I’m outside the ship’s walls, I won’t bring my curse to the sailors and their precious Midrian cargo.
That is what they said, anyway.
What horseshit. I never had any magic to begin with.
The only person I’ve ever seen wield magic is Kaim.
If only you knew what they were doing to me, my love.
At least I’m out in the fresh air, away from those filthy men and that bastard Trise. Even if the sun burns my skin red and raw and the salt on my parched lips turns them dry and cracked, I’d rather be out here than locked in some dark, stinking cell below decks.
Thud. Thud. The Midrian ship slices into the waves head-on, bouncing up and down as it hits the ocean swells. I close my eyes, trying to earn some reprieve from the terrible sunlight, but it bleeds through the thin skin of my eyelids, turning my world crimson.
I’m thirsty. I haven’t had a sip of water since I left Enak’s small ship.
I’m starving. My stomach growls frequently, and hunger bites so deeply it’s become a constant dull pain in the pit of my belly.
My vision goes from blinding white to searing blue to brilliant red as my eyelids flutter open and shut.
And now and then, my vision turns black as I grow lightheaded.
The wind whips my hair around.
Clouds scud across the sky.
The ship’s massive white sails flutter and snap in the wind.
Birds drift across the blue sky, floating lazily on the wind. I envy them. They’re free.
Time passes. I don’t know how long. My hunger and thirst deepen and I start to drift in and out of a strange kind of delirium.
The ropes that bind me are too tight. Stupid, cruel sailors. They probably did that on purpose. I hope they all freeze for an eternity in Lok’s seventh hell.
I force myself to ignore the pressure of false Elar’s sculpted body as it presses into mine. I ignore my thirst and hunger and pain, and it almost becomes easy to do so when I think of Kaim.
I imagine his face; his cold, beautiful, glacial face, its hardness melting away as he smiles at me.
Where are you now, my love? I hope you’ve healed. I hope you’re destroying your enemies right now, because I can’t. All I can do is survive.
Do Trise and his minions understand that without food and water, a human being will wither and die?
This fool Krogen wants me alive.
Do they really want to take that risk?
I wait and wait and wait for someone to come and bring me reprieve, but nobody appears. I drift in and out of torture and dreams until the sun slides down toward the horizon and the harsh light fades, making the afternoon almost bearable.
Then it starts to sink, turning into a fiery disc as it paints the sky brilliant orange.
I turn my head and stare at the sunset.
With every passing moment, the sunset deepens, turning from orange to bright red to perfect crimson— the color of freshly spilled blood.
I’m drenched in the light of the bleeding sky, and if somebody doesn’t appear soon to pour water down my parched throat, I might very well die.
No…
I can’t accept death.
Kaim will come for me. He will.
Until then, all I have to do is survive.
Live.
I close my eyes…
And let darkness engulf me.
Ten
Kaim
We fly higher and higher into the mountain ranges, and all the while, Vyloren is silent. Her poison rages through me, and I grow weaker and weaker, my breaths becoming shallow, my vision blurring, fading in and out of blackness.
The cursed venom is starting to ravage my body. Even this st
range, pale, inhuman body of mine is finally succumbing to the dragon’s curse.
Morhaba’s curse, according to Enak.
Makes sense. It feels like there’s a volcano in me, spilling lava through my veins.
Great. I will arrive at the Black Mountain little more than a walking corpse. If I should die on the threshold, I swear I will come back to haunt the Ven as a malevolent spirit.
But for now, I guess there is nothing more to do than close my eyes and rest so I can try to regain some of my strength. I slump forward and dip my head, trying to get into a comfortable position.
This time, sleep comes surprisingly easily, and I drift into dreaming…
Eleven
Kaim
I’m dreaming again.
As always, I return to the colorless place; the soundless place, where I always encounter him.
My feet crunch on the silvery, moonlit path, which is strewn with perfectly rounded river stones.
But no sound comes.
Here, my body feels whole. The excruciating pain of the dragon’s poison is gone, and I feel so much lighter.
I feel powerful.
I can feel my hands again.
I look down…
And stop dead in my tracks.
My hands… they’re intact, but they’ve changed.
They’re completely black. Skin that was as pale as alabaster has turned pure obsidian, as if dipped in a vat of black ink. The black skin fades at my wrists, merging seamlessly with the writhing tattoos on my arms, which have started to fill in.
What is the meaning of this?
In shock, I look around, staring through the silvery trees, searching for any sign of him.
There’s no sign of the dark bastard. There is nobody who can make sense of this strangeness for me. As always, I’m left on my own with an endless mystery and no fucking answers.
I’m tired of searching for answers.
“Where are you?” I demand, my voice ringing hollowly through the soundless forest. “Why don’t you show your face?”
I wait.
Predictably, he doesn’t appear.
But somebody else is here. I can sense it.
How… how is this possible?
I can sense her.
This is a dream, after all. In reality, I’m trapped inside a dragon’s claws, weakened and resentful.
This must be some kind of projection. It makes sense that I should find that which I desire most of all in my dreams.
Amali.
How can I resist her, even if she’s merely a figment of my imagination right now?
“You,” I murmur, rolling the word off my tongue, enjoying the sound and shape of it. For only I could call her that and make it sound so tender. “You’re here.”
I peer amongst the silent trees, desperately searching for any sign of her. Thoughts of the dark figure I seek evaporate from my mind.
All I want is her.
“Where are you, Amali?”
Is she just a figment of my dreams; an expression of my longing, or is she real?
I’m here. Are you real, Kaim, or am I just dreaming of you?
A warm, ephemeral sensation slides down the back of my neck, taking the shape of her slender hands. Her fingers trace over my shoulders, my arms, my chest as she embraces me from behind.
It occurs to me that I’m not wearing anything resembling decent clothing. Just a pair of loose black trousers, nothing else.
Instantly, I’m as hard as a rock. It must be her. Only the real Amali could have this effect on me.
“I’m here. I’m real.” I try to reach out to her, but my obsidian hands grasp nothing. All I feel is a slight warm resistance.
How is this even possible? How am I seeing you in my dreams, and how do you feel so real? This isn’t the real world. This is…
“It’s a place I’ve visited in my for as long as I can remember,” I say gently, trying to reassure her. “You’re in my dreams, Amali. I don’t know how it’s possible either.”
Just like everything else that happens with you. I feel that someday, this will all make perfect sense, and I hope that day comes soon. She lets out a soft chuckle. So you aren’t just the Kaim of my dreams. I’m actually talking to you right now.
“Yes.”
I hope so. I really hope so. A feeling of unease radiates from her. Why are your hands like that, Kaim? What has happened to you?
I hesitate. She doesn’t need to know what the Ven did to me back there on the Coast of Bones. She doesn’t need to know that the Ven severed both my hands at the wrists. “I don’t know,” I admit, and that is the truth.
I look down. Even my fingernails are pure obsidian, and slightly pointed at the ends, like humanoid claws. They shimmer in the pale, cold light.
You’re changing.
“Nothing about me has changed,” I say gruffly. “Not for you. No matter how strange I look, it’s still me, even in your dreams, Amali. To you, I will always be the same. You have nothing to fear from me, ever.”
I know that. Her warm, invisible hands return to my shoulders. Something warm feathers against my ear, my cheek. Something soft and tender presses against my lips.
An invisible kiss.
A pleasant shudder courses through me, and I try to kiss her back.
Only I can’t. She isn’t available to me.
My arousal has turned into a raging inferno. I need to sate my lust now. I need her so badly.
But why is she here in my dreams, in this pale, cold, colorless land, where there’s no sign of life except for my own cursed body?
Is she…?
My heart clenches. “Are you well, Amali? Are you safe? You should have reached the promontory by now. I hope Enak is being sensible and treating you well. Once you reach the Kalabar, you will have protection. Remember, you must show them my blade.”
Amali goes still, withdrawing her presence from mine. It feels like the sun has momentarily disappeared from the sky.
For a while, she is silent.
I freeze and stare up through the skeletal branches of the trees. There isn’t a leaf in sight. There’s no birdsong; there are no insects chirping and screeching.
A terrible feeling of wrongness seeps into every fiber of my being.
Why are you here in this dead, lifeless place, Amali? You shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong here.
“What is wrong?” I demand, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. “What has happened to you, Amali?”
I… She goes quiet and still. Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I can almost hear the roar of the ocean in the background.
Something isn’t right.
She shouldn’t be here.
“Where are you?” I growl. “Amali, you must tell me.”
I’m on a Midrian ship, she says at last.
My fragile world drops out from beneath me. I might as well have fallen out of Vyloren’s claws. “What?” Anger rises up inside me, so deep and dark and terrible that I can barely breathe. “Who has taken you, Amali?”
A man called Trise. I’m on a ship bound for Daimara. They’re going to present me to the new emperor, Krogen. He wants to finish what his father started.
Dark anger engulfs me completely. I barely notice as the leafless trees around me start to twist and sway, pushed around by a soundless wind. “You didn’t make it out of the Luxlan Sea. You were captured,” I growl, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. It’s like a hundred voices at once, echoing inside a silent vortex.
What is happening to me?
I hardly care.
The Midrians came out of nowhere in a big ship, Amali whispers in my mind. They would have run us down, but I gave your coins to Enak and jumped into the ocean to stall them. They only wanted me, anyway. He was able to escape.
“You gave the Magnars to the healer?”
Don’t be angry, Kaim. I know you don’t trust anyone, but I had no choice. Enak promised me he would take the Grand Magnars to my people. I believe
he is honorable. He plays by his own rules, and he is beholden to no-one… much like you.
“I’m not angry with you, Amali,” I murmur, and the rage in my voice disappears as I picture her beautiful face in my mind. I try to imagine the look on her face. I’ve never encountered anyone like her. Her features are so expressive that I take great pleasure from reading her emotions when she’s happy or amused or even vexed… but especially when she’s happy.
But right now, she would be afraid. Perhaps she is in pain. Back in the clutches of the Midrians, I have no doubt that she is suffering.
“You did the only thing you could, given the circumstances,” I say gently, forcing my tone to soften. “That was incredibly brave… and selfless.” Even though the situation makes me furious, my heart swells with admiration. “But what have they done to you, my enaka?”
Is it so important for you to know right now? I won’t tell you, Kaim. I just want you to be strong and clear-minded, so you can finish what you must do and come to me. These stupid, arrogant Midrians won’t stand a chance against you.
The killer in me wants to insist; to find out all the details so I can take satisfaction in extracting maximum suffering from her captors, but I cannot be so selfish right now.
First, I need to wake up.
Then I have to figure out how to bring these ugly black hands of mine into the real world.
“I will come for you, Amali, and I will kill every single worthless bastard that lays a hand on you, and I will make them suffer.”
Oh, I know you will. That thought is very helpful to me, believe me.
My nostrils flare as I catch an almost imperceptible tendril of her scent. It’s like pure fuel on the flames of my anger.
How dare they touch her?
I need to know what is happening to her, but out of respect to her, I won’t push it further.
That’s her choice. Her burden to bear. I will honor it.
Are you well, Kaim? Has the fever run its course?
“Not yet,” I tell her, because lying would leave a bitter taste in my mouth right now. But I won’t reveal the true extent of my suffering. I won’t even give her a hint that I’m a captive of the Ven.
