Born of Water: Elemental Magic & Epic Fantasy Adventure

by Autumn M. Birt

Chapter 19

  LESSONS

  Darag repositioned Lavinia’s hand.

  “For this defense you need to have your hand lower, here. That way you can take the force better and not lose your grip.”

  Lavinia nodded, her eyes narrowed with concentration. Sweat stuck a strand of her dark hair to her brow. Darag resisted the urge to brush it away.

  “Like this?”

  Lavinia moved forward, dancing through the series of moves with a fluidity that usually came only after years of practice. Darag grinned.

  “Yes, only now try it against me.”

  “I never win against you.” Lavinia’s voice was a bit petulant, reminding him of Beite. But she moved back to the first position, holding the sword in perfect form.

  “That’s because I already know what you are going to do.”

  Lavinia went rigid, her eyes widening. Then a wicked twinkle lit her sky-blue eyes.

  “Really?” She drew out word.

  Darag’s chest constricted with warmth, a laugh escaping with his exhale. He smiled down at Lavinia with a reckless grin while his heart beat as if they’d been practicing for hours.

  This time he had to be quick to counter her blade as defense slid to offense. She knew it, too, surprising him with a quick thrust. His block overextended her reach and he gently knocked the blade from her hand. Despite the loss, she was grinning. Darag shook his head, a smile remaining on his lips, as well. She was always surprising him.

  Turning to walk back to the center of the small clearing, he realized that they were not alone. Cuileann had approached without his notice. A cold wave swept through Darag with sudden self-consciousness, displacing the heat from the moment before. He stood stiffly as Cuileann swaggered toward them.

  Lavinia had picked up her sword. She glanced at Darag, a line forming between her brows when she saw his expression. Her gaze followed his, widening when she saw the new arrival.

  Beite rarely went a day without mentioning Cuileann. He wasn’t old enough to choose, nor was Beite anywhere close to being old enough herself, but it didn’t keep Beite from dreaming or Cuileann from flirting. Tall, with light-brown patterns across his skin, red-brown hair, and golden eyes, Cuileann received a lot of attention. In Darag’s opinion, it showed.

  But he was a skilled fighter. As he walked across the clearing to join them, he casually shaped a practice sword from a stick. Lavinia’s expression remained far from impressed. Darag had to suppress his smile. Lavinia was not Beite.

  “Lavinia, I don’t know if you’ve met Cuileann.”

  Lavinia took Cuileann’s measure. “I’m not sure…”

  “Well, I’ve seen you.” Cuileann brushed off the lack of recognition.

  “You fight as well?” Lavinia asked, taking more interest as she nodded toward his sword.

  Cuileann gave her a winning smile. “Of course.”

  “So, how am I doing then?” she asked, crossing her arms. Darag sensed the doubt hidden under the tough front Lavinia presented to Cuileann.

  “Not bad, but it should be more like this.”

  Cuileann spun through the moves Lavinia had just executed. She watched carefully, her initial reserve falling away.

  “See, your hands move here. Grip the sword so.” Cuileann placed his hand on Lavinia’s. He pushed her arm forward and slid the other hand down. “You see?” Cuileann asked, face close to hers.

  Darag swallowed and looked away.

  “Yes, I think so. Let me try it against you.”

  Cuileann poised forward on the balls of his feet, his wooden sword held at the ready. Lavinia did not hesitate. She strung together the skills Darag had shown her over the last few days and mixed them with some ideas of her own. She moved smooth and fast.

  Cuileann blocked one thrust, startled. It was not the offense he was expecting. Cuileann countered the next two, but as Lavinia changed her tactics, he stepped back. From the look of it, Cuileann was too surprised to try an offense. It gave Lavinia the advantage.

  Lavinia hooked her sword around his, sliding the wooden blade along the top of his while twisting the point underneath. With one movement, Cuileann’s sword went flying from his hand before he could react. Lavinia smiled brightly. There was an edge to her look.

  “I think I’ve got it.” Lavinia said in a dry tone.

  For a moment, Cuileann looked miffed. Then he started to smile. “Yes, I think things have worked themselves out pretty well here," Cuileann said, a twinkle in his eye as he peered at Darag. Without elaboration, Cuileann meandered from the clearing, picking up his lost sword on the way.

  Darag stared at the leaves on the forest floor. His heart hammered in his chest while something tight strangled his throat. There was a thought that he did not want to acknowledge on the periphery of his mind.

  “Are you okay?” Lavinia asked with concern.

  Darag shook himself. He smiled down at her, the automatic response warming to something more personal without his intention. She stood a mere foot away. The top of her head reached just to his shoulder, he noticed.

  “Yes, a break?”

  Lavinia nodded, joining him when he sat on a rock next to the stream.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Lavinia asked timidly after a short silence.

  Darag barked a laugh. “No, not at all! I’ve rarely seen Cuileann so surprised.” Darag chuckled, pushing aside the implication that Cuileann had left behind.

  Lavinia smiled and relaxed with a sigh. “That’s good. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.” She paused and looked over at him. “Why do you know how to fight? It seems so peaceful.”

  “We only fight to protect our trees and our homes. If we need to, we can fight very well.”

  “Beite said your father died years ago. I’m sorry,” Lavinia said, quietly.

  Darag looked down at the stream. The pain was old, but still present. “Yes, his tree caught an illness. One that Laith Lus had not seen before. We could not cure it, and when the tree died, my father died.”

  Lavinia blinked rapidly. “Niri said that you were bound to a tree at birth. You fight to protect your trees ... your life is bound to them.” Lavinia’s voice filled with new understanding.

  Darag returned her gaze steadily. It took a second to overcome the resistance in him. But Lavinia had to hear this even if it changed what she thought or felt ... what she shouldn’t feel, he reminded himself. If she did.

  “Yes, Kith are bound to a tree that sprouts at his or her birth. The parents plant it, and only they and the child know which tree the child belongs to. We age as the tree ages. We die when our tree dies.”

  Lavinia looked around at the massive forest. “You live as long as your trees ...” Her wide blue eyes returned to his. “How old are you?” The question was barely a whisper.

  Darag looked swiftly away, his skin flushing. He did not look at her as he mumbled, “Sixty-two.”

  “You’re sixty-two?” Lavinia’s voice was incredulous, rising over the tumbling stream.

  Darag blushed again. “Comparatively, it is not so very old. The trees can live to be over six hundred years. Laith Lus is nine hundred and eighty-six.”

  There was no comment from Lavinia. Darag felt frozen, waiting for her to move away and go back to her friends in Drufforth.

  “So, comparatively, I’m actually older than you.”

  Gaze jumping back to her, Darag found laughter in her eyes. “You are enjoying that, aren’t you?” Caught so completely off guard, Darag started to chuckle as well. Something loosened inside of him, a part that he had always thought solid and impenetrable.

  Laughter bubbled out of Lavinia, a growing cascade rising in release. In tears, she leaned against Darag, gasping for breath. He found himself holding her loosely, laughing as tension left him. Her shoulders shook with mirth against his chest.

  “I thought that would bother you more. That our ways would bother you more.”

  Lavinia shook her head, occasional giggles
still escaping. “I’ve been chased by a magical dragon Curse that wants to eat my friend, who, it turns out, has powers the Church wants to destroy. And I found out that my brother hasn’t been where he said he was or doing what he was supposed to be doing while actually doing a few things that were far from honest. Really,” Lavinia said, looking merrily at Darag, “this is the most peace and fun I’ve had in weeks - in years, maybe.”

  Seriousness calmed the giddy fluttering in Darag's heart. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

  “I want to know everything. What you’ve been doing. Where you grew up. How you ended up here.”

  “Perhaps during lunch?” Lavinia’s bright smile was hopeful.

  Darag pulled her to her feet. He led her high along the paths of Lus na Sithchaine, slowing as they approached a house nestled in the upper branches of a great tree.

  “This is yours,” Lavinia said as she stepped around where he hesitated.

  For the first time, he saw his house with an outsider’s perspective combined his own familiarity. Every line was purposeful yet graceful. It blended into the branches of the tree not as a batch of mistletoe like so many of the aerial houses, but more like it was part of the tree’s choosing to have changed its shape. Darag had always been proud of that.

  But it was not a house from the Sea of Sarketh where Lavinia surely was from. It was not white marble with tiered windows or stucco warm from the sun. Lus na Sithchaine with its far-flung and varied living houses was vastly different from the cities of her people, with their large dwellings built next to each other above sparkling seas. The thought struck him with a moment of vertigo.

  Lavinia entered before him, pausing a pace into the room. She pivoted on the ball of her foot, as if in a sword lesson, looking around. With easy grace, she walked to a branch thrusting out below a window. She sat, pulling her knees to her chest as she leaned back against the wall, instantly at home in the treetop abode.

  “I see why your sister is jealous.”

  Lavinia gazed about the room. Light dancing in the leaves overhead glinted on the inlaid glass that comprised the ceiling and sent patterns across her skin. Her neck curved as she gazed upward in a line matched by the branches behind her while she sat in a room that was full of moving light, yet eternally still.

  Darag left her there with the image of her curled on the bench captured in his mind. He found food through familiarity rather than sight.

  When he returned, Lavinia had not moved. She took his offering of bread and vegetables, eating without comment. He sat on the other end of the bench where he usually perched when he needed to think. This time, though, not a thought could form fully in his head.

  “I cannot believe you do not find us odd.”

  “Am I odd for not finding you odd?”

  Darag laughed softly. “Perhaps. You promised to tell me where you came from.”

  She nodded. “Do you know anything of the cities along the Sea of Sarketh?”

  “Yes, I’ve been there.”

  Lavinia’s eyes focused on him. “Really? You can leave? I mean, you’ve left?” Her cheeks stained a faint rose.

  Darag chuckled, glancing away. “Yes, we can leave. It is unusual to desire such because it is uncomfortable to be away from our trees, like we are missing part of our souls.” He paused. “Only Suileag and I know which tree is mine, so who is to watch it for me? But yes, I’ve left twice. The first time to the cities along the Archipelago and the second to those along the Sea of Sarketh. I will understand what you tell me.”

  Lavinia’s eyes took in his face and ran across his cheeks. It was a close look, intimate enough that Darag could almost feel the light touch of it on his skin. She leaned back against the frame of the window and started to tell him of Mirocyne.

  He watched the expressions that crossed her face, reading the story as much as hearing it. The sun had shifted by the time she was done. For a moment, the room was silent save for the rustle of the wind in the leaves.

  Darag sat with his back to the window, both elbows propped on its bottom ledge. “This magic your friend has ... I wonder if Laith Lus knows of it? If that is what Whef’aylpah, Niri,” he corrected. “I wonder if that is what she has been speaking to Laith Lus about.”

  Lavinia hopped to her feet in the same instant as Darag, the air buzzing with energy between them. They sped down the paths to the clearing, but it was later than they had realized. By the time they made the clearing, shadows had overspread it. The bench where Laith Lus and Niri had so often talked during the last few days was empty. In the growing dimness, lights were waking while a few Kith began to gather for the evening meal.

  Lavinia bent over, struggling to catch her breath. She kept one hand on Darag’s arm and he cupped her elbow in the palm of his hand. Passing by, his friends Nuin and Cran Laoibhreil watched them. They exchanged a glance with a smile. Cuileann’s look when he had ceded the clearing flooded Darag’s mind. He swallowed hard before he spoke.

  “We can find Niri tomorrow. You should get ready for dinner. It will be cool tonight.” He stepped back, dropping her arm.

  She stood up, glancing at him in surprise. “Will you be there tonight?”

  He didn’t look at her. “No, I will find you tomorrow.”

  Darag blended into the darkness between the trees without a backward glance. There was no order to his thoughts or the tangle of emotions in him. He knew of only one place to find the peace and time to sort them out. The path up to the aerie was deep in the forest or required him to cross the clearing into the gathering crowd. He would have to walk past Lavinia. He headed into the woods.

  “Why?” The voice halted him. He sighed.

  “It isn’t your concern, Beite.” Only his sister would know where he was going and be able to find him so easily.

  “You like her. It is obvious. She likes you. I don’t see why you are running away.”

  He turned to face Beite’s pale form on the path behind him, arms crossed as she leaned on her left leg. Though slightly built, her expression was powerful and stormy.

  “What do you expect? Me to choose her?”

  Beite’s arms uncrossed and she stepped closer to her brother. Darag gritted his teeth against the sudden yearning that welled up in him, bringing with it the memory of Lavinia laughing in his arms. His eyes stung.

  “It isn’t that easy. Don’t you understand? She doesn’t know our ways or what it means. It doesn’t always work out. You wouldn’t want that for me, would you?”

  Beite cast her eyes downward and kicked at the moss with her toe. Her expression was enough to make Darag feel guilty for the reminder of their mother’s loneliness.

  “This isn’t some game, Beite,” he said more gently.

  “She won’t know if no one tells her.” Beite said, sounding sullen. Darag sighed again as his sister continued. “You could at least stay and have dinner with her. She likes it when you are around, I can tell. The other boys don’t bother her half as much then. You don’t want her to choose one of them, do you?”

  “She won’t.” He said it with sureness, but a hollow opened in his chest.

  Beite watched him. “You won’t even stay and go to the dance with her in two nights, will you? It only comes when the greater moon is full. The next time it happens she won’t be here! She’ll only be in Lus na Sithchaine another ten days.”

  Beite’s last statement had the opposite of her intended effect. The tiny opening that had come with his inability to deny his feelings snapped shut. He stood straighter and glared down at his sister.

  “Then I only have another ten days until this nonsense is over.”

  Darag turned and disappeared into the forest.