Abyss

by Bethany Adams

  Aris peered at the healer, and the reason for the longing he’d noticed on Tynan’s face when he’d been near Kezari came clear. He wanted a relationship, and for some reason, he was drawn to the dragon. If they were friends, Aris might have asked if that were true, but it was too intrusive of a question for a near stranger. Even one who would soon know his darkest secrets.

  “So what do we have to do to heal the damage to my mind?”

  Tynan grimaced. “The process is unpleasant, and I must warn you that the mind doesn’t heal without scars. There is no cure for the type of trauma you’ve experienced. I can help you reroute the worst of the mental connections, but doing so will trigger terrible memories. It is more painful than physical healing.”

  “Will I be able to…” Aris swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t even hug Selia without losing myself. I worry that sexual intimacy will not be possible.”

  “I’ll help as much as I can,” the priest answered. “However, much of your ultimate recovery will rely on establishing positive patterns to replace the trauma, and that includes sexual experiences. Some mind-healers offer that kind of aid, but I’m afraid I can’t help with that. I’m afraid I do not favor men. No offense intended.”

  Aris summoned a slight smile. “None taken.”

  “Good.” Tynan gestured toward the floor. “I recommend you lie down during the healing. You might collapse from the intensity of the memories.”

  Lie prone on the stone floor, vulnerable to another? Fear erupted through his blood and reddened his vision. Was there another choice? Not the wall. He’d been chained there all too often. Leaning against it…no. A chair. Why were there no chairs? Perim had never granted him one.

  A touch against Aris’s forehead followed by the cool, soothing rush of magic sent the panic skittering away. He cursed as clarity returned, shifting quickly to lie on the smooth floor before the sense of peace disappeared. He rested his head on the cushion, a luxury he’d never enjoyed in the cave, and stared up at one of the mage globes overhead.

  He hadn’t been allowed much light in the cave, either. The small variations made such a big difference. He could remain here in this time and space instead of being sucked into madness—barely.

  Just barely.

  Tynan moved his own cushion so that he could sit at Aris’s head. As the healer settled his hands on each side of his temple, Aris pressed his palms against the cool stone and fought the urge to run. But even if he flew away with Kezari, he couldn’t escape his own mind. Instead, he panted against his fear and tried not to be sick.

  At first, the healing magic soothed his dread. The tension in his muscles eased, and the nausea faded. His eyes drifted closed when he sensed the healer’s presence at the edge of his consciousness. Aris’s breath puffed out on a sigh as he established the connection. For endless time, Tynan examined the countless channels in his mind, an unusual ruffling sensation but hardly painful.

  Then it hit.

  The sea roiled above the side of the ship in a solid wall. Unnatural. Deadly. How had they sailed so far from shore? Miaran, it shouldn’t be like this. Tessen should’ve known better. But Tessen had been swept overboard with the last wave. Aris knotted the rope around his waist and leaned his weight against the wheel in a desperate attempt to turn the ship.

  The wall of water crashed over them before he had a chance. Snapping. Screams. Aris gripped the wheel as the world turned to liquid, dark and cold. The rope bit into his waist, snapping him back when the sea tried to tug him away. His head cracked against something hard, and water rushed into his lungs as he cried out.

  Darkness.

  Aris thrashed, gasping for breath. The faces of the lost flashed through his mind, and he moaned. All dead. He should have monitored Tessen. What three-hundred-year-old was ready to captain a vessel? All Aris’s fault, every death, but he’d survived. Ice seeped into his body until his teeth chattered with it.

  “What have we here?”

  The smooth female voice crawled inside him, waking him from his doze. Where was he? The board, his endless home, buoyed him. His arms dangled over the side, trailing in the water. He must have fallen asleep. His fingers brushed against something solid, and he cracked his gritty eyes open. His vision filled with the sight of the woman, pale hair falling across her beautiful face as she bent toward him.

  His soulbonded?

  Aris recoiled at the thought. He’d never wanted to bond. He had Selia and Iren. Perhaps the woman hadn’t noticed the connection. Gods, he hoped not. As soon as he figured out where he’d landed, he’d be on his way back. Selia would be worried sick. Still, he didn’t want to hurt the woman now gripping his arm to pull him onto land. Rejecting her would be poor thanks for the rescue. But there was nothing for it.

  In the distance, a roar sounded, and the woman jerked. Her fingernails dug into his flesh, drawing blood.

  Aris’s arm twitched, and pain crept from the remembered spot along his skin, arrowing toward his heart. Power surged, and he cried out at the ache blooming in his head. What had he been dreaming? He reached for the memory, but another took its place.

  His captor grabbed his left arm in both hands, lifting it high. Aris gurgled out a scream, his throat sore from begging, as his raw, bloody back slid along the rough floor. Red coated her naked body as she glared down at him. She hadn’t been sated. She never was. No matter how often she forced him, the bond wouldn’t form.

  He wouldn’t let it. Please, Gods, never let it.

  “Say the bonding words, Aris,” she demanded. “Say them now.”

  He turned his face away and thought of the cool stream outside the mouth of the cave. The ocean where he’d drifted. But a sea of water wouldn’t wash him clean. His tormentor screamed, the shrill sound echoing through the cavern, and air rushed around his arm.

  Crack.

  The pain.

  He bit his lip to hold back the cry, but a strangled moan slipped free. He barely felt the bite of the chain around his wrist. It was drowned by the agony crashing through him when she tugged, drawing his battered body along the stone until his arms were pulled wide.

  “Bond with me, or I’ll let it heal like this. It’s a simple thing, really.”

  Every nerve in his body screamed at him to accept, but his spirit held firm. It was all he had left. “Eat iron.”

  She laughed. “Enjoy being misshapen.”

  He barely knew when she left. He screamed into the darkness then. Agony. Fury. Prayer.

  Gods, let me go. If you are there, let me die.

  Pain was his only answer.

  Aris convulsed against the tower floor as the pain echoed through muscle and bone. And the shame. How could he have let her take his body, even knowing she would torture him afterward? She shouldn’t have been able to arouse him, but he hadn’t been able to stop it. Maybe some part of him had wanted her. Could he be that sick inside?

  Sweat prickled his skin as he fought to keep hold on sanity. The foundations of his being shook until the wall holding in his power crumbled. His shout sounded through the room as raw life magic streamed from him in a flood, cracking against the shield and tormenting him anew.

  It would never end.

  Never.

  “You should carry your walking stick,” Lial said, knowing it would bring a delightful flush of anger to Lynia’s cheeks.

  The ploy didn’t disappoint. “I’ve been walking in the garden without trouble for several weeks now. Although it might come in handy for whacking annoying healers.”

  He hid his humor in a wicked smirk. “Then—”

  Pain crushed into Lial’s skull, temporarily blinding him. He sucked in a breath, then expelled it on a yelp when his knees crashed into the stone. Aris. Ah, miaran, why hadn’t Tynan warned him? Didn’t he know that Lial kept a link with all of his patients? His head drooped, and his hands sank into the grass beside the path.

  How could anyone bear this?

  Fingers gripped his shoulders. Delicate. Te
ntative. “What happened?” she asked, panic edging her voice. “What do I do?”

  “Rebound. Aris.” He gasped against the pain and struggled to pull back from the link enough to form solid thoughts. “Workroom.”

  Lynia pressed against him, linking an arm around his waist as she tried to haul him to his feet. He jerked away, almost falling into the grass in the process. “No, Lynia. Your back. No.”

  “Can you stand? I’ll brace you while you walk.”

  “A moment.”

  Lial let his mind sink into the cool earth beneath him, grounding himself as best he could. Distancing himself from the link had done little. Miaran, but the images pouring through alone… His muscles spasmed in sympathy.

  Nothing for it. For the first time in years, he severed a healing link completely. The crushing agony ceased, but the echo never would. Shaking, Lial pulled in lungful after lungful of fresh air. The chilly mist was a welcome relief on his skin.

  Then he stumbled to his feet, wavering there while the world solidified around him. Lynia stared at him, her beautiful face almost as pale as her white-blond hair, and he reached out a trembling hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. A weakness for a weak moment.

  “I need to lie down,” he whispered through lips gone dry.

  Her brows furrowed. “You mentioned Aris.”

  “Tynan is with him.”

  He should stumble to his tower as quickly as possible before he cracked beneath the weight of all he’d seen, scaring Lynia away for good. But when she kept pace beside his careful steps, he didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave. Not even when a few rogue tears escaped from his eyes and crept down his cheeks.

  Why did the world hold such pain? Why couldn’t he bear it as he usually did?

  Lynia followed him into his workroom, closing the door softly behind her. He studied her beloved face, now filled with sadness, and took a step back. This pain was a healer’s burden, not hers, and one he usually guarded well. He should have known that Tynan would work quickly and stayed close to his workroom.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “Tynan is working with Aris.” Lial swallowed. “You do not want to know, Lynia. Trust me on this.”

  She stepped closer. “I don’t have to.”

  Then she held him in her arms as he wept.

  “You dare a great deal to step foot in my cave,” Baza announced before Perim had even cleared the entrance.

  Perim froze at the harsh bite to the dragon’s mental voice. His red-and-gold scales glinted in the light from countless globes suspended from the ceiling, highlighting Baza’s hoard of crystals, more types than she could ever count. She shifted her gaze quickly away from the treasure, though, lest the dragon believe her intent was to steal.

  Nothing so simple as that.

  “Please forgive me,” Perim said. “I have heard rumors that suggest we might have a mutual enemy.”

  They both knew that there weren’t any rumors. Dragons guarded secrets as securely as any other hoard, but that very quality meant that Baza was unlikely to ask how Perim had gained her information. Not unless the source became relevant.

  “Elaborate.”

  Perim braved another step forward. “Kezari. She stole my potential soulbonded.”

  Baza lowered his wedge-shaped head, the spines around his eyes tilting at an ominous angle. “That is not what I have heard.”

  “Her claims about me are lies.” They weren’t, of course, but she was counting on the dragon not to care. “But they hardly matter. Help me escape this island, and I will ensure Kezari’s death.”

  Baza snorted. “The barrier around our isle is mere formality to any decent fae mage. You should not need my aid.”

  Impotent fury surged through her, but Perim shoved it down. “I don’t know why my ancestors journeyed here with you when you care so little for us. Yes, we could get through the barrier. But none of us can construct boats. Even if we could, our population lessens every year. I want out before we are nothing but a memory, easily forgotten by dragonkind. I’ll do anything.”

  “I suppose that includes torturing your own soulbonded,” Baza answered, baring his teeth in a grin.

  Perim snapped her mouth closed. She would admit nothing.

  “Where will you go if you succeed?”

  “Far from here.” Her nostrils flared. “The other fae won’t leave, but I hope to seek asylum with my distant ancestors, the Ljósálfar. My line traveled from Alfheim to Earth, departing for Moranaia with the dragons. Perhaps our family will be remembered.”

  The slow hiss of Baza’s breath filled the chamber as he seemed to consider her words. She fought the urge to fidget. He couldn’t know how much this meant. This island was death, and she would not go down without a fight. She hadn’t been lying about doing anything—torturing Aris was proof enough of that.

  Her patience was rewarded by Baza’s nod. “Very well. But you will have to journey farther than you imagine. Are you willing?”

  Perim smiled. “More than willing.”

  Chapter 15

  Selia pinched the strange, thick fabric between her thumb and forefinger and gave a tentative tug. The stuff felt coarse and restrictive around her legs, and the metal closure sat uncomfortably against her waist, pinching oddly. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as her skin itched beneath the uncomfortable cloth.

  A few paces away, Meli wore a similar expression. She’d braided her light hair back in a simple plait before she’d donned the dark blue pants and thin, stretchy tunic. Selia glanced down at her own similar top. What had Arlyn called it? A tee shirt? These had been made on Moranaia by an elven artisan based on samples the scouts had brought back from Earth, but the clothes still felt foreign.

  At least the metal button was made with peresten instead of steel. It wouldn’t interfere with magic or cause any allergic reactions. Selia could deal with a little iron, thankfully, but it could sometimes make things go awry.

  Arlyn glanced between her and Meli and laughed. “Don’t look so thrilled.”

  “Why do humans enjoy being uncomfortable?” Selia asked.

  “You need Earth jeans,” Arlyn said. “Modern styles are stretchier. If there wasn’t the chance you’d be going into a cave, I’d say just wear a sundress.”

  Meli picked at the sleeve of her shirt. “We’re going to be cold.”

  “I put a light sweater in your backpack.” Arlyn gestured toward the bags on the bed. “Inona said it’s still summer on Earth, so you’ll just need cloaks to get to the portal. The sweater is for the cave.”

  “Are you upset that you’re staying behind?” Selia asked.

  Arlyn smiled. “Nope. Lial didn’t think there would be any issues, but when Kai reported what Naomh had said, I decided on my own to stay. I’ll help my father manage estate business and coordinate the efforts here. Such things are just as important.”

  Selia hadn’t spoken to Lyr since earlier that morning, so perhaps Kai’s news wasn’t relevant to her part of the task. Still. “What Naomh said?”

  “I believe Onaial was going to mention it at lunch,” Arlyn explained. “According to Kai’s father, there’s poisoned energy in the fissure, and it’s starting to seep out. I’m not exposing my unborn child to that.”

  Well, that was unfortunate news. “Blast it,” Selia said. “Iren will have to stay here for both missions. Aris was worried that he would try to follow and get into trouble. We’ll have to hope he’s wrong.”

  “Maybe I’ll make Iren help me sort through the latest reports on the final harvest.” Arlyn grinned. “If you don’t mind.”

  Meli let out a long groan. “Oh, that’s cruel. I offered my aid last week and regretted it sorely.”

  “You’d better keep my father in good health,” Arlyn joked. “Not gonna lie. I’m not looking forward to being charge of all this. I’d rather wait a few thousand years.”

  The sound of Meli’s open laughter warmed Selia’s heart. The young Ljósálfar woman had been too afraid
of mages after her experiences in Alfheim to be comfortable around Selia at first, but that was slowly changing. In time, they might even become friends.

  “I’ll only gently scar him after our next argument,” Meli said, still chuckling.

  “Good enough for me.” Arlyn’s smile held a wicked glint. “Now. Do you want to wear these clothes until time to leave?”

  Selia rubbed her hands along her pants, hoping to stop the tingling itch spreading up her torso. Even her scalp had started to prickle. She examined her forearm, but there was no physical rash. “I…I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Arlyn’s eyes narrowed on her face. “What do you mean?”

  Pulling the fabric away from her waist, Selia glanced at her stomach, but it was clear, too. A tremble built in her limbs, spreading until she sank down on the side of her bed. What in Arneen? She focused her attention inward. Her personal shields were undisturbed, but a faint reverberation echoed along the link to the training room. Iren was studying next door, and Arlyn was here with her. Who else could it be?

  “Someone’s in the training tower,” Selia whispered.

  She reached for the shield that kept rogue magic safely within the tower. The disturbance there shrieked along her senses until the itching threatened to drive her mad. But she shoved the physical sensations away and focused on merging her consciousness into the spell. If someone was causing trouble, she needed to know. Especially after all that had happened over the last few months.

  Without warning, pain slammed into her mind, raw and elemental. A strangled sound choked in her throat as Aris’s energy filled her with the speed and heat of a plains fire. Selia doubled over, trying to contain the surge within her own body before it seeped out to the others. The screech of birds, the drone of insects, the cry of animals—all filled her head under the grip of the powerful life energy.

  But that was nothing compared to the memories.

  Her stomach lurched, and Selia surged to her feet. She struggled to disconnect from the tower’s shield as she stumbled toward the refreshing room, barely managing to reach the closest basin. Footsteps rushed behind her, and someone reached out to pull the plug and let water into the bowl to wash the vomit away.