by Shea Godfrey
“Are you going to read the bloody scroll or not?”
Jessa’s expression was filled with heat and her eyes with love, and Darry’s felt both. “Come closer to me,” Jessa whispered. “And I shall do just that.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jessa’s fingers traced the first words as Darry stepped closer, and Darry followed Jessa’s hand as she read aloud in a quiet voice.
“For my beloved, I pray that your gods hold you as close as I do. I have honored my promise to you, though I have held it safe in my heart until the very last. As I will you, my only love, until my last breath. I shall not be long now, Tannen… It has been an endless night without you and I have done what I must. For these sins against our love, I beg your forgiveness. I swear I shall find you, I have seen to it…”
Jessa’s voice caught and she stopped reading. Her posture changed in a subtle manner as she pulled within herself, something Darry had not seen her do since they had left Blackstone. Darry’s left hand slipped about Jessa’s waist and beneath her shirt to the heat of her skin.
“For the spirit who is yet to walk beside her.”
Darry’s eyes narrowed upon the scroll as the writing seemed to dance free from the ends of Jessa’s fingers.
“For the child of my cherished Hashiki, may this serve you well and as it must. I bequeath to you what was hers, for these things have always been yours. I have charged my heirs with the return of Zephyr Wind unto your hands. May all pass through the years unharmed and find you strong. I love you, and I beg you, please, wait for her. She will find you, the yet to be born daughter of my line. You shall be mine once more.” Jessa paused and Darry could feel her tense. When she continued, her emotions were thick in her voice. “All you need, is to remember your blood and let it rise…”
Darry stared at the writing and let the words wash through her as Jessa’s fingers slid along a single twist and flourish of ink, faded beneath the rest. She settled her fingers atop Jessa’s, the scroll beneath their combined touch. Darry closed her hand upon Jessa’s and held it tight.
“It is the mark of Neela,” Jessa whispered.
The fire popped and fed upon crumbling oak in one hearth and smoldered in the other, the scent of herbs and the must of old scrolls filling Darry’s nose. She could smell the sweetened karrem that brewed in Jessa’s small kettle, knowing that Jessa made it so for her, for she could no longer drink it unless its bitterness was tempered. The heat of Jessa’s skin beneath her hands had moved into her arms and chest, and as Jessa breathed, Darry’s heart began to match the cadence of her lover’s.
And so here it was at last. Not a bedtime tale to tell a child, nor a story so ancient that the reality of Tannen and Neela might never be untangled from the changes made by time. Not merely a tale to inspire hope in a people beneath the boot heel of Bharjah. There it was, in Neela’s own words.
Darry had let it sleep, this tale of time and love and Senesh Akoata, the Great Loom and ancient lives. She had let it sleep, and Jessa had let her. But there was little to argue with as she looked at the scroll beneath their hands, for Radha herself, descendant of Neela and High Priestess of Jessa’s people, had confronted Serabee El-Khan and fulfilled her oath with the return of Tannen Ahru’s stolen sword.
Darry had no proof that Tannen’s lost blade was meant for her, but she knew it was the truth. From the moment she had held the blue vale steel it had been a coming home. The warrior within her had known it at once. No blade made so exquisitely for another hand, could have been so perfect for her own, as well. And it was, in fact, perfect. Even the blades fashioned in the past by Masters, for no one else but her, were not so perfect.
And she had been dreaming again, though she could not quite remember them. She would wake up with the smell of a distant land in her nose, and the sense of a presence so near to her, as to be sharing her own shadow. The feeling wouldn’t last for very long, but she did not deny it while it was there.
It has been an endless night without you… Darry let her hand slide along the blank portion of the scroll. “What is this?” she asked. “I feel it, like a tremor beneath the ground.”
“Yes. There is something else here.” Jessa’s fingers moved above the scroll. She cleared her throat in a light manner, but her emotions were still thick in her voice. Darry sensed it was more than sadness. “But I have no idea how to free it yet.”
She will find you, the yet to be born daughter of my line…
And she had. Jessa had somehow survived Gamar only knew what, in the house of her father, the Butcher of the Plains. Amidst the stampede of endless brothers who had plagued her every moment, and haunted her steps with violence and fear.
Whatever the truth was, in the end, they would face it together. Jessa loved her, and she knew that fact was the only one that mattered. Jessa loved her, not Neela, despite Neela’s words. Darry had never expected that, to be loved and desired so completely. Of all the things worth fighting for in the world, it was the best thing of all and she knew it. Whether they had come together because it was meant to be, and the Great Loom willed it, Darry might never know, but it was something to be thankful for either way. She could not deny how she had felt in Tristan’s Grove, and every day since.
Darry let go of her fear of what Senesh Akoata might really mean, and with that acceptance her Cha-Diah blood rose in an oddly measured manner. It slipped past her willpower and she let it. It was enough to ease the pain and the aches in her muscles, and lessen the pressure that was always present now, in her neck and shoulders. Perhaps it was a mistake to do it, but she could no longer deny who she was. The time for sleeping was over.
Darry could feel the quickness of Jessa’s heartbeat. “Jess?”
“Akasha…” Jessa’s fear came in a wave of heat that rushed along her spine. She looked at the runes upon the scroll and wondered how they must sound to her lover, to have their love mapped out, at least in part, in a scroll that should have crumbled into nothing centuries ago.
She will find you, the yet to be born daughter of my line. You shall be mine once more…
Jessa had spent her life beneath the exacting tutelage of her Radha, and she had read endless scrolls and tomes. They had argued late into the night, the philosophies and the rules that governed the Great Loom and Senesh Akoata. She possessed a lifetime of speculation and learning, and at the very least, she had a fair understanding of what it did and did not mean.
She could feel Neela’s grief in the runes like a living thing, and yet Neela’s words had caused her a surprising amount of resentment. They were written as if she herself would have no choice in the matter, no voice of her own. As if her love was not hers to give, but merely the echo of another. It was a subject that many had pondered, both scholars and Shamans alike, the path of the thread and the effect it might have through the ages. It was taught that only the strongest of threads might have an influence, and to that end, only in those things that were beyond the control of any given individual. Circumstances, both great and small that might provide opportunity, but never control someone’s actions. Free will held sway above all things, always. But Darry had not been privy to those debates, or the sacred laws surrounding the Great Loom.
Her words tumbled out. “I loved you before I knew these things, Akasha. I know Senesh Akoata and I believe in its gifts, but this…” Jessa opened her hands upon Neela’s scroll as her own words came back to her, and they cut, for she realized she had been careless. I have only just found you again, Akasha… They had referenced the deep spirit of Senesh Akoata’s teachings, but they had meant something else, as well.
“I had no idea that I walked Neela’s thread, until I spoke with Radha after the battle in the Great Hall. I had a vision of Neela, just moments before Serabee and the Fakir appeared. The powers of a Vhaelin priestess contain the powers of a Shaman, as well, but…”
Jessa stared down at the scroll and opened her fingers upon the writing before she pulled her hands back along the heavy parchment.
“But what, Jess?”
The tenderness in Darry’s voice was too much, and Jessa tipped her head to the side as her temper pushed its way free. She was of Neela’s bloodline, it was true, but she had chosen Darrius. To have Darry think otherwise, if even for a heartbeat, was utterly unacceptable. Radha had bloody well been right. They were free and no one could tell them otherwise. They were untouched by anyone’s need but their own. Radha’s theories and her half-truths, her omissions and her many secrets, by the Vhaelin, she had given them the ultimate gift. She would not see Neela’s words take that away. “But Neela did not suffer the plagues of the Jade Palace.”
The Jade Palace, more than any other place in the world, had been the flame that had forged her steel, and no other could claim such. No other could know what that meant.
“Neela did not suffer his dogs, or the sweet rotting stench of his robes… Neela’s mother was not murdered.” How dare Neela claim Darrius as her own, as if such a reach were even in her power. “Nor her sister,” she whispered. “She did not learn the Veil of Shadows in order to hide from her own blood.” She tried to temper the hatred in her tone, but the effort was of little use. She thought of Sylban-Tenna and what he had done, and she moved her words around it. “Brothers who would’ve taken what they wanted if they could have. Brothers who are not men of Lyoness, for the true men of Lyoness are fair men and good men.
“And she was not a prisoner, nor was she shamed and paraded before the powerful Lords who sought favor of the Butcher.” Jessa pushed away from the table and turned her back on her lover. She stared across the room into the flames of the hearth which were a riot of blurred colors. “And she was not sold to the highest bidder who offered the chance at a throne.”
Jessa heard Darry’s approach and she turned about. She could feel the panther beneath her own majik and though it surprised her, it did not stop her. “We are not merely players in a play, Akasha, as those words might make you think. There are sacred rules the Great Loom is built upon, and they are not merely guides, but unbreakable laws. There are certain things that are just not possible, and what Neela claims is one of them.”
“I know that.” Darry’s voice was calm and quiet.
“It’s said you might travel your thread, in theory, but you may not change it and you may not participate. It is only memory. The pattern of the loom itself is what dictates Senesh Akoata, and it cannot be changed by a single thread. It would negate free will, and that cannot be undone no matter what god you may believe in. The teachings of Gamar will hold such a tenant.”
“They do, actually, you’re right,” Darry agreed.
“She cannot claim you, Akasha, please understand that.”
“I do, Jess.”
“She was not the one who captured your heart.” Her voice had eased as she looked in Darry’s eyes. “That was me, and I chose my love, Darrius, it was not chosen for me. And though I am a daughter of her blood, I am most certainly not Neela de Hahvay, nor do I do her bidding.”
Darry’s expression was quite possibly the most beautiful she had yet seen, and it surprised her into an entirely new turn of emotions. “Neela de Hahvay would not find me pleasing anyway,” Darry replied, and her dimple appeared upon the heels of her slow smile.
“Do not be foolish, Akasha.” Jessa’s anger had slipped away completely, and in its place a rebellion of desire pushed through her blood. Darry’s face was filled with color and life, and her eyes were true and bright for the first time since her return from the Yellandale. The unrestrained taste of Darry’s Cha-Diah majik washed over Jessa in a most willful manner. “Why ever not?”
“Because I am Darrius Lauranna Durand, and not Tannen Ahru. I am only who am, as I am now, as this life has made me, just as you say. And I am the daughter of wayfaring kings, and the Wild Men of the Taurus Mountains, descendant of the Olden Men who cut their homes from the mountain tops and walked with eagles. And I am in love with you, Jessa-Sirrah. I know that you love me, Jess, I know it… And whatever we may be in the end?” Darry’s smile was almost playful. “In this lifetime? You and I shall be most grand.”
Jessa could feel the majik in her blood rising and swirling in a provocative manner, and though its response to the presence of Darry’s majik was as potent and as decadent as ever, there was a new fear that came with it. “Akasha, what have you done?”
Darry walked to her in silence and reached up with both hands.
Jessa slipped her fingers over the waist of Darry’s trousers and held on as Darry pulled at the ribbon in her hair. Her eyes followed the healing wounds along Darry’s jaw and neck and the pulse between her legs intensified, the weight of her desire the sweetest of punishments. Darry’s fingers in her hair caused her eyes to close slightly. “This isn’t safe.”
“I don’t care.”
The power in Darry’s whisper slid along the back of her neck as Darry unfastened the buttons of Jessa’s shirt, the backs of her fingers slow as they caressed Jessa’s skin before popping each one. Her shirt opened and Darry lifted it, Jessa obliging her as Darry slipped if off and tossed it atop the scrolls.
Darry undid the buttons of her own tunic and Jessa watched as she revealed her breasts, pulling her shirt from her trousers and letting it fall open.
“If you disappear into the wild again, I shall find you,” Jessa promised and then caught her breath as Darry grabbed her about the waist and pulled her flush. She opened her mouth to Darry’s and grabbed at Darry’s shoulders.
Jessa shifted at the pull upon her skirt and Darry leaned to the side. She bit at Darry’s lip, her hands delving into Darry’s heavy curls. Darry’s left arm pulled her up and Jessa reached between them and yanked at her skirt. Darry’s hand was between her legs and Jessa grabbed her about the neck as Darry’s fingers slid along her sex. She was wet and swollen and she leaned into the touch, straining onto the tips of her toes.
Darry’s lips brushed against her own and Jessa smiled as Darry’s strong fingers stroked her. “You’re so wet,” Darry whispered and kissed her. “I’ve missed you.”
Jessa bit at Darry’s lip. “Take what is yours,” she offered, and she could hear the raw need in her own voice. “Take it, Akasha.”
Darry’s touch became more forceful, more urgent, and Jessa felt her blood let go. “Have you missed me?” Darry asked, her teeth grazing along Jessa’s jaw.
“Ye—” Jessa let out a startled gasp. “Yes.”
Jessa felt as if she were being devoured and it only enflamed her desire. She moaned at the sudden absence of Darry’s fingers and then she was lifted up, her legs swinging out as she tipped back. Jessa bit at Darry’s neck as she was carried across the room and her hand took possession of Darry’s breast, her heart racing at the hard stone of Darry’s nipple beneath her touch. She wanted it in her mouth and beneath her tongue, and she would have what she wanted. She would have what was hers, and hers alone.
The covers of the bed were soft beneath her and Darry lay beside her, kissing her, her hand beneath Jessa’s skirt once again as Jessa hooked her left leg over Darry’s and pulled as close as she could. Her hips pushed and thrust beneath Darry’s touch, and when she came, with her lover’s touch inside of her flesh, there were but two hearts that beat in unison.
* * *
Jessa lay draped along Darry’s naked body, the heat they created together beneath the blankets of the bed almost too much. She was propped on her left elbow as she looked down, her hair tumbling along her arm and mingling with Darry’s. She traced a lazy finger about the nipple of Darry’s left breast and then let her hand rest upon Darry’s stomach. “How do you feel?”
Darry smiled. “I feel very satisfied at the moment.”
Jessa laughed in her throat, pleased at Darry’s answer. Night had fallen and Jessa glanced at the second hearth across from the bed. Hinsa lay sprawled upon the rug and sleeping, despite the lack of true heat from the embers of the fire. “I’m sorry I became angry.”
“I did not mind. H
ow old was she, when she died? Do you know?”
Jessa considered what she had read of Neela, but what she knew was less than she would’ve liked at the moment. It was best that way, though, she understood that now. “She knew several generations of grandchildren, according to one scroll I read,” Jessa answered quietly. “Quite old, I would imagine.”
“That’s a long time to be without the one you love.” Darry’s expression was thoughtful. “She was old and lonely, and cold at night. What else was there, but the dream of being reunited with her love? It turned her thoughts.”
“I know.” Jessa moved the palm of her hand between Darry’s breasts and to the base of her neck, feeling of her pulse. “It’s important that you understand, though, Akasha. You are mine and mine alone, and it will only ever be this way.”
Darry’s expression was pleased and at peace, her eyes sleepy. Jessa could feel that Darry’s pulse was not as it should be, slightly erratic and without the strength that was normally hers. “Yes, my Lady.”
Jessa’s heart ached with love and fear at the same time. Darry was not Darry without her majik, but her power would destroy her if Jessa couldn’t find the answer. Her instincts told her that the answers were contained in the concealed portion of Neela’s first scroll, but she could not be certain until she had translated both and revealed what was hidden. “Good,” she whispered. “Are you hungry? You have not eaten. You must keep up your strength.”
“I’m not so hungry.”
Jessa leaned down as she turned Darry’s face and she kissed her. She tasted deeply of her lips and her tongue as the scent of Darry’s musk filled her nose in a heady fashion. “You must eat…” Darry was completely at her mercy, and she could feel it as she ended her attentions with a last touch of Darry’s full and willing lips. Her lover had very little strength left at all, now that Jessa was looking for it. “I will get soup from the kitchen, and make tea.”
