Brenol approached Ziel shivering. He followed the others but hung back with an unusual sense of self-consciousness; he knew nothing of the death rites of the land and suddenly felt keenly aware of his own foreignness.
Arman removed his shoes and laid them upon the sandy shore. He stood erect, a transparent man-giant, with clothing whipping like a flag in a storm, and stared out into the blue and brume. He stepped into the cool water, and his toes and ankles disappeared under dark ripples.
The juile removed an item from his cloak and held it out in extended hands like an offering ready to be plucked. He whispered, though audibly enough that Brenol could hear. “Long have you given bounty to the creatures of Massada. Thank you for all that you have taught me, all the experience you have given me, and for the love you have shown to the juile during the braiding of our histories. Thank you, above all, for saving our world. May your future travels be bountiful.”
He bowed low and remained as such for several minutes. When he rose, he lifted high the object—a brechant nut lantern—and lit it.
“No more shall we knock on your door, for your door is no more.”
The lantern crackled to life, suddenly shooting fire in all directions. In his possession, the lantern carried the quality of Arman—glass-like clarity—but as soon as the beams left his person, they shocked the dim evening with vibrant flames. The juile held it aloft without a wince or trace of fear. He turned his head expectantly to his companions, and Colette stepped forward, glancing briefly at Brenol. In that moment, he could have wept simply for her sake, for in her eyes was an affliction deeper than he would have thought possible.
She toed her way into the water, hesitating slightly, and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for seeing me and helping me. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for helping us save the terrisdans—or at least try to. And…and thank you for sharing your waters. I…I only have my own to give back to you.” Colette gracefully wiped the tears that streamed down her cheek and placed her hands into the water. “You were so beautiful.” She touched her lips gently to her dripping palm and then submerged it anew: a kiss for the dead.
Brenol was speechless. He found his own agony forgotten before her words and distress, and his self-consciousness blossomed anew. His foot began to burrow with the toe—a habit from his youth—and suddenly his eyes perceived the motion. He sighed, shaking his head as he awoke to the moment.
Silly man. This isn’t about me. Not about me, he thought, recalling Darse’s words to him so many orbits ago. Life isn’t just about me. Did I come here to impress Arman and Colette? Or to honor a people now lost forever?
He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and then stepped forward and allowed the icy water to numb his feet and shins. Ever so softly, like a hand leading him forward, the pungent sweetness summoned him to the ghosts that lurked heavily within. His mind played out his memories of the lake-men, his conversations with Preifest. Then a fissure opened, and emotion choked him. He collapsed in a trembling kneel and let the cold surround him while he wept.
His whispers were barely audible. “Thank you. For everything.” He bowed his head and touched Ziel’s screen with a kiss.
After several minutes, he spoke again. “Preifest…you once told me that the isle had been tunneled to one day unite the upper and lower worlds… What happened to us all was sloppy and terrible, but I think that in the end we did come together. Not through an isle, but the dream still came to pass. Be at peace.” Brenol mouthed the names of the dead he knew—Preifest, Samest, Helst, Carest—and his vision filled with the nameless maralane child he had buried in the soft loam.
Arman bowed deeply, and his robes dipped into the water, clinging to him as he righted. “It has been bountiful.” He leaned his body back and heaved the spraying lantern out upon the lake. It sunk into darkness.
As if in response, the sun descended from the clouds and settled into the earth like a fire licking the last embers of its hungry feast. Pink, orange, and red striped from horizon to zenith and left Brenol small before the vastness of the heavens. He did not turn his eyes from the last rutilant lights, for somewhere within lay an unspoken fear that they might never return.
Colette did not allow her vision to stray either, yet more out of reverie than anxiety. She quietly recalled the sunsets on the mount she had seen as a child and how she had shared them with Deniel. He had been her protector, her friend, her brother, her cartontz. Colette held the images with an openness, examining them like a child discovering a pebble or a feather, and found that as she released them, there was a simple and content joy; the harrowing pain had disappeared. No more was the restless ache there to exhaust her, no more did emptiness hound her heels.
Colette smiled, breathing in a wholeness she had thought she would never again achieve.
I really am alive. I really am going to survive. I lived despite Jerem. I am finding life past Den… I can face what comes. I truly can.
She blinked back tears as relief swept through her. Thought and emotion flowed up with a lucent clarity. She saw the man before her now—the strong, proud man of benere—and glimpsed the depth of her affection. Brenol would never replace Deniel, but she did not want him to. She wanted Brenol as himself, for he was what she needed, he was who she loved. There was no need to grope in her past. Her present and future lay before her eyes.
Wordlessly, she slid her hand into Brenol’s. Their palms touched, and his countenance straightened in a new knowing.
It is time, he realized.
His arm slipped around her waist, and he pulled her slender body to his. She drew in a breath—a honeyed purr of contentment and surprise. He leaned forward in a gentle embrace, peering into her face to discern her reaction. She smiled softly, looking into his eyes, so green, so sure, and her own eyes glittered with affection.
Brenol drew her tighter and kissed her as he had always longed to do. Their lips merged and melted, and he felt lost in the sea of her. His heart could barely contain all its emotion. Everything in him promised to protect her, cherish her, love her. There was nothing else but her. It was all Colette.
He curled his arms around her, and her own arms wrapped surely around his neck. In his elation, he lifted her from the ground, refusing to relinquish the kiss.
It may be the end of the terrisdans. Or the beginning, he thought. But how can I even care when I’m blind to all but love?
He lit her tiny feet down and watched as her face glowed in pleasure, and felt her chest against his thrum in song.
“We will face it together,” Brenol said with conviction and strength.
“We will face it together,” she affirmed.
Arman, still present, merely smiled. He had not forgotten the grave trials ahead of them, but breathed in the beauty of the moment with satisfaction.
They turned again to the sunset, watching and waiting for what the night and new day would bring.
Dearest readers,
Thank you for your time and readership. Please take a moment and post a review on Amazon or Goodreads!
The next book in the series is The Forbidding Blue. It will be released in the fall of 2016.
It has been a pleasure,
Monica Lee Kennedy
Eyes in the Water Page 19