by H. L. Burke
“With many women beauty is the price, but that won’t work here. I also sense that your youth and your health mean little to you. You are used to living as a reviled being.”
Her heart rate quickened, and she did her best not to think of Calen.
“You lost him, didn’t you? Just recently. Your hope is to save him, isn’t it?” The Naiad’s tone became lower. Or perhaps a different being spoke now. The Gorgon had referred to them as plural. “You value him very much. Unfortunately, my powers cannot be enacted on another. I can’t reach into his soul and take away his love for you, nor can I take his life. The cost must be borne by you and you alone.”
Relief swept through Laidra like a cool breeze. She smiled.
“Oh, don’t think that means you will get away from this easily, little one. There must always be payment.” A stream of water rose from the pool and shifted, forming an arm. “Give me your hand.”
Biting her bottom lip, Laidra slipped her hand into the fingers of the extended arm. It felt cool like water, but unyielding like glass or stone.
The grip tightened. “Ah, here we have it: the one thing that makes you special.” The Naiad chuckled, her voice blending with a higher one until they spoke in unison. In fact, now that she listened, Laidra could detect other voices weaving together like strands of a braid into a single frigid laugh.
She shivered.
“That is what we will request. Your ‘gift,’ that is what you call it, isn’t it?”
Laidra’s jaw dropped. How did they know?
“It is the one thing that sets you apart, for you are homely and weak, unable to swim or fight so that your beloved must constantly save you. How many times has he intervened for your life? Can you count the instances any more? He must be sick of carrying your worthless body, protecting you, sheltering you, providing for you.”
“That’s not fair,” Laidra stammered. “I’m not worthless. I have value!”
“Your gift has value. Perhaps that is why he stays, for at the end of each fight you heal his wounds, soothe his aches.” The mask-like face smiled cruelly. “That is your only redeeming quality, you poor ugly thing. The only thing that makes anyone wish to be with you. I see it in your memories, how the palace staff would put up with you so you could cure them and their loved ones, how people flocked to you like a goddess, begging for you to use your gift. Without it, you are nothing.”
“That’s not—” Laidra’s arms shook. She yanked away so quickly she fell on her rump.
The hand popped like a bubble, but the voice continued. “You don’t want to give that up, for what are you without it? Nothing, that’s what. Nothing and nobody. So, little foul-face, do you take our offer? Your healing gift for a gourd full of water?”
Calen doesn’t think of me that way. He loves me for my soul, not my gift. But without my gift, what purpose do I have? I can’t do anything. No one will want me any more. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Isn’t there something else? I help people with my gift. It lets me make this world better, kinder, happier.” Her throat tightened, choking away her words. “There must be something else.”
“If you are unwilling to pay, you are free to go. We know our prices are high, but our wares are priceless.” The Naiads giggled.
The water in the pool splashed and bubbled as if dancing. Laidra’s bottom lip shook. She glanced at the sky. How long had it been? The Gorgon had said Calen’s soul would flee within a “sun’s circle.” She could think on it, but what other answer was there to give?
She closed her eyes. “You may have my gift. How do I trade?”
The water froze mid-splash. A spout exploded from the center of the fountain, forming a statuesque woman with shining black eyes. “Are you sure? Once struck, the bargain cannot be undone.”
“I’m sure,” Laidra whispered.
“Then we will extract it from you, for the gift combines with your blood. Step into our waters.”
Laidra hesitated. The churning of the water had filled it with a blanket of bubbles, and she still saw no sign of the bottom. “I can’t swim.”
“You won’t drown. After all, corpses can’t trade.” The water shimmered then flattened.
Laidra tested it with her toe. It held her up. She stepped onto it as if walking across a slick marble floor.
“Into the center,” the Naiads coaxed.
Choosing not to look down, Laidra crossed the water. She stopped at what she thought to be the middle. “What do I have to do?”
“Hold your breath.”
The floor disintegrated beneath her, and she plunged into the pool.
Head over heels she tumbled, bubbles swirling about her. Hands made of water and ice snatched her by the arms. Voices shouted in her ears.
“It’s in her blood. It clings to her!”
“Claw it from her!”
“But it’s in her skin.”
“Flay her!”
Laidra’s eyes widened. She kicked her legs. Above her, the sunlight shone, taunting her. She needed to reach it. She needed to breathe!
Fingers clawed her arms, pulling her downward.
Unable to speak, she thought with all her might. Stop it! I need to breathe. You promised I wouldn’t drown!
“Give it up! Let us take it!” Claws of ice shredded her skin. Blood blossomed around her.
I’m going to die. I bargained my life. But that wasn’t the deal; you can’t take my life.
“Stupid human! Stop fighting.”
Her skin stung and her lungs ached. Her power rushed to heal her wounds, only to be whisked away like dandelion fluff in a breeze.
A circle of darkness closed around her vision. She stopped struggling and sank away from the last pinpoint of sky.
“Got it!” the Naiads crowed as one.
The water exploded in a geyser around her. She crashed out of the pool and onto the bank. A fit of coughing overtook her, expelling water and vomit from her throat. She retched into the grass then rolled over to stare at the sky, inhaling as much air as her sore lungs could hold.
When she sat up, the water had calmed. On its surface floated the gourd. She snatched it to her chest. Red trickled down her arms where the Naiads’ claws had left their marks. Stinging welts rose on her skin, and warm blood ran down her face. Instinctively, she held a hand over her cheek to heal herself. Nothing happened, and her heart sank. Her gift was gone. Without it, what did she have to offer the world? Still, Calen would be cured. He’d live on, and the world would be better for that. A warmth swept through her. Yes, as hard as it had been, Calen's life was fair compensation. She had to hurry back to him.
She ripped strips of cloth from her garments and did her best to bind the scratches on her arms and legs. Wiping the blood from her eyes, she shook her head and stood. It’s not as if they could damage my appearance.
“You did it.”
Laidra stumbled, falling against the now-solid surface of the pond. She moaned and scrambled back to land.
Jovan was seated on a small cloud, hovering a few feet above the earth.
She couldn't stop herself. “That looks ridiculous,” she blurted.
He raised a bushy eyebrow.
Her face warmed, but she stuck out her chin.
He stepped from the cloud onto the grass and, with a wave of his hand, sent it away. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“I’m sorry, that was rude and sacrilegious.” She added this last part even though she was fairly certain there was nothing sacred about Jovan and his ilk. Still, there was no point in angering the being who could cure Calen.
“You have something for me?” He nodded towards the gourd. “Give it to me, and I’ll lift your beloved’s curse.”
She gripped it tighter. “Calen was turned to stone by a Gorgon. Can you restore his flesh as well as remove his curse?”
“That wasn’t part of the bargain.” Jovan smiled, and Laidra got the irksome impression he was making light of her.
She tilted the gourd as if to pour it out. “Then I suppose I might as well dump this.”
“Stop!” Jovan reached forward.
“It’s mine.” She glared at him, clutching the water to her chest. “I paid the price for it, the highest price I could. If you won’t fully restore Calen to me, then there is no point in completing this quest. Without Calen and without my gift, I have nothing left.”
His eyes softened. “Your face, it bleeds.”
“The Naiads shredded me.” She pushed away her makeshift bandages, revealing her torn arms. “Most of me is bleeding.”
“Yet you still have the strength to defy a god.” He took her hand, his touch surprisingly human. His palm traveled up her arm, brushing away the wounds as if they were painted on. The sleeves of her garments re-formed at his touch. Jovan cupped her face between his hands, and the pain fled from her flesh, replaced with a warmth and sense of well-being that spread through her body. “It isn’t fair that your curse remains. I watched your full trial. Unlike the Naiads claim, you had as much to do with this victory as the serpent-prince. Perhaps more.” He removed his hands and gave her a metal rod the length of her finger. “When you return to your prince, you will find him a man, but still stone. Touch him with this, and he will be restored.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Sparks pricked her skin from the tiny wand. She passed him the gourd. He cradled it for a moment before tucking it into his tunic with obvious care. She tilted her head. “You have so much power. Why do you want the water?”
His mouth quirked. “I have power over thunder and the other gods, but not over life and death. While I may seem distant to humans, occasionally one of you worms your way into my heart, only to perish in the blink of an eye. A drop of this water can extend the life of a human for decades.” He hung his head. “The cost of it is so high that I have never been brave enough to make the trade myself.” He smiled and stroked her cheek. “Go, little one. Enjoy your short, sweet life with your beloved.”
The cloud returned, masking Jovan from her. When it dissipated, the god had departed.
Laidra darted out of the clearing. The sun sat low in the afternoon sky. She wanted to find Calen before darkness. Halfway down the hill, she saw two great pillars of rock on either side of the path. The Standing Stones?
Remembering the Gorgon’s counsel, she slowed her pace, shut her eyes, and began to count steps. She shuffled one foot in front of the other until her feet scraped the stone of the Gorgons’ path on the ninetieth footfall.
“Is that you, child?” the Gorgon called.
Laidra nodded, careful to keep her eyes squeezed shut.
“Well, it seems you have survived. I hope whatever you sacrificed will be easy for you to bear. Follow my voice. You are almost to safety.”
Jovan’s gift felt hot in Laidra’s hand as she continued on her way.
“Bless you and your beloved,” the Gorgon called from behind her. “You may open your eyes.”
“Thank you.” Able to see again, Laidra broke into a run. She soon came upon a stream lined with rushes higher than her head. Their sweet scent assured her she was headed the right way. She followed the stream until she recognized the willow tree she’d hid under during Calen’s fight. Beside it stood two stone pillars, both in the shape of men.
For a moment, Laidra feared she’d be unable to tell the twins apart. However, she needn’t have worried. Even if their faces had not been distinct, the statue that had been Volen still grasped his sword.
Laidra stood before Calen. She stroked his cold cheek then touched the tip of the wand to his forehead. A point of light glowed where metal met stone. Light spread over him like a ray of golden sunshine. The gold turned to warm brown. Calen gasped for breath, blinked several times, and sat down hard.
Her heart pounding, she reached for him, but he scrambled away. “How long was I out? Who are you? Where’s Laidra?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Calen rubbed his numb arms, coaxing the blood to flow once more. Well, at least he was human and not stone. That meant Laidra had completed the quest, but where was she? He stared at the strange woman whose mouth had dropped open. Had she somehow broken the Gorgon’s curse? She didn’t look like a nymph or a god.
The stranger quivered, filling him with regret. He hadn’t meant to frighten her.
“What’s your name?” he asked, steadying his voice.
Her bottom lip shook, and her chin fell to her chest, brown hair shadowing her eyes. There was something oddly familiar about her, though he was certain he'd never seen her before. He scanned her features, trying to place the memory. She had a heart-shaped face, a small, straight nose, and skin a shade lighter than olive. She was short, her head even with his chest, and so slight that he reconsidered for a moment whether she might be a nymph of some sort.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to shout. You startled me, that’s all.” He stood and touched her shoulder. She raised her face. Their eyes met, and his knees weakened. Green eyes, entrancing green eyes.
“Laidy?”
Her shoulders slouched, and she gave a breathless, “Yes. Why did—how come you didn’t know me?”
He stroked her cheek with one hand. His heart pounded in his chest. It couldn't be, but it was. Even if he hadn't seen her eyes, he'd have known her beloved voice anywhere. But how? He swallowed, somehow recovering his ability to speak. “You look … different.”
Calen shifted from foot to foot. He’d grown accustomed to her face, her crinkled and discolored skin. To say he liked this new version of her, with smooth skin and tempting soft mouth, seemed disloyal, shallow. At the same time, he couldn’t break his gaze from her features. He focused on her eyes, the only part of her that hadn’t seen a dramatic shift.
“The Naiads tore at my face. I thought Jovan healed it, but perhaps it left scars. Is it awful?” She covered her cheeks with her hands and inhaled sharply. Her eyes widened. Reaching inside her gown, she produced the bronze mirror and held it up. “Oh … Jovan must’ve … oh …” Her gaze drilled into her reflection. The mirror fell to the ground. She caressed her flawless skin, grabbed handfuls of her thick brown tresses, and danced like a small child offered a toy. “I’m pretty now?” She laughed.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “You always were, but now your inside and your outside match.” He bit his tongue to stop himself from spouting any more trite idiocy, but to his surprise, Laidra blushed.
A warm smile crept over her face, and he realized it didn’t matter what he thought of her appearance. Her curse had always kept one hand on her happiness, and finally its grasp was loosened.
With a cry of joy, she sprang into his embrace. Her arms twined about his neck, and she pressed her lips against his. Pleasure flooded his being. He kissed back with all his might, his fingers gripping her waist, pulling her as close to him as he could. Their mouths moved against each other, the warmth of her spreading through him like a breath of summer air.
A wind rose up around them, and Calen snapped to attention. He knew that breeze.
Zephia smiled from a few feet away. “Jovan wouldn’t let me step in until Laidra had returned you to flesh. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t wait any longer. You don’t know how hard it has been, watching you two go through this without being able to aid you.”
Calen smiled, keeping one arm draped about Laidra's shoulders. “We could’ve used your help a few times, but it ended all right.”
“In most ways.” Zephia’s gaze fell a few feet from him where the stone form of his brother stood. “Oh Volen, why did you have to intervene?”
A knot formed in Calen’s throat. As much as Volen had put him through, he didn’t wish to see him remain like that. “Can you restore him?” Calen asked.
Zephia shook her head. “Jovan would have the power, but I’m not strong enough.”
Laidra raised her hand, revealing a small, glinting bit of metal. “This might work. Jovan gave it to me to heal you. But C
alen, he’s tried to kill you more than once. Are you sure? What if we cure him and he attacks you again?”
Calen hung his head. “Fate never gave us a chance to truly be brothers. I never wanted to fight him, Laidy. I understand why he did what he did. There was a time, under the influence of my curse, that I hurt him. I don’t think he ever forgave me for that. It’s time for me to mend this rift.”
She nodded. Stepping forward, she touched the metal to Volen’s forehead.
“Grab the sword,” Zephia cautioned.
Calen grasped his brother’s wrist below the brandished weapon. The light produced by Jovan’s gift spread through Volen, and the stone beneath Calen’s fingers softened into skin. Volen stumbled to his knees, gasping for breath. Calen wrenched the sword from his hand and stepped away.
Laidra slipped her fingers around Calen's arm and pasted herself to his side. Though he desired peace, Calen angled his body between her and Volen, the image of the prince with his blade at Laidra’s throat all too sharp in his memory.
Volen rubbed his forehead. “What happened? He leapt to his feet and edged away, eyeing Calen’s sword. “The Gorgon—”
“It turned you to stone.” Zephia crossed her arms. “What were you thinking, bursting into the Forbidden Gardens to start a row with your brother?”
Volen narrowed his eyes at his mother. “Did you save us? I thought you weren’t supposed to intervene in the trial.”
“The trial is over, so that restriction has been removed.” Her expression softened. “But no, it was Calen and Laidra, not me, who managed to get you back to your old self.”
Volen’s mouth opened and closed.
Calen managed a weak smile. “I don’t want to fight any more, Volen. You can have the Cartan throne. I swear, you’ll face no opposition from me, but please, no more violence, no more hate. I’m sorry for what I did to you as a child.”
Volen’s hand strayed to his chest. He swallowed. “I’ve been in the curse’s grasp more than once. I’ve experienced what it does to your mind. All the same …” His chin dropped. “I can’t believe you … you didn’t have to save me. You could’ve left me here, both thrones yours, and no one aware of what happened.”