Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2)

by Jennifer Melzer

  “Do you think your father has found what he was looking for, Brendolowyn?” she asked him in her final pleading, her long, dark eyes flashing indigo in the sunlight warming his back. “If he is still out there, he will never keep still. Do you really think you will find him?”

  “I will wander forever if I have to,” he said, lifting his hand to touch her face one last time. His words broke her heart. She struggled against the shedding of her own tears, but one slipped from her lashes and splashed down the back of his hand. “But wherever I go, whatever I do, I will make you proud, Mamiir.”

  The peacefulness of his thoughts shifted, his mind turning dark, his heartbeat rising as the painful images of the days that followed raced through him. The last promise he made to his mother was broken just a few miles outside their village, where he was captured by a band of orc traders hunting elven slaves to sell across the sea in the desert markets of Caratoros. He wasn’t the only Alvarii taken that day. There’d been three others. Two strong men, twin brothers from the next village over, and a young girl who’d only just breached the cusp of womanhood.

  He didn’t remember any of their names, but he could still see their faces. All four of them purchased by the same master and thrown into the magical arena beneath his banners. From the cages below the stands, Brendolowyn watched all three of them go down in their first matches.

  What was the girl’s name? Helellia? Hannalenwei? Inexperienced, her confidence with magic unestablished. She’d been out gathering shells to make a bracelet for her beloved. Harinah? Himmilene? She had eyes the color of a summer sky. Sometimes at night her screams still haunted his dreams.

  Shrill, frantic, piercing…

  Brendolowyn snapped from his meditation, the images and feelings that went with them disappearing, all except for the dread. The screaming didn’t dissipate. It clawed the air, nearly blocking out the sound of Hrafn’s bellowing call from the beach. In a tangle of robes and panic he leaped from where he sat and darted in the direction of those screams.

  He searched the beach for their source, his heart racing madly in his chest when he glimpsed her struggling between three dark figures. One of them picked her up and she raised her feet, kicking and screaming in fury, her whole body jerking and bucking against her attacker. Her foot connected with the wide jaw of the orc standing in front of her, and Bren felt his whole body freeze with panic.

  He just stood there, dumbfounded, trembling as memory mixed with reality and Lorelei’s terrified shrieks carved through him. He watched her legs writhing, body hitching as she kicked and flailed, twisted and worked against her captor’s grip. The scene was so familiar, so startling he nearly forgot where he was, who he was, the things he was capable of.

  Hethiria. The girl’s name was Hethiria. And he hadn’t been able to save her.

  And then he caught sight of the black wolf from the corner of his eye and his mind returned to action. Summoning fire from the elements around him, he gathered and shaped it between his hands until he had a ball. He released it as he ran toward her, aiming at the furthest orc from Lorelei and startling the other two. He was already gathering another fireball when the first one struck home, lighting skin and burning hair as the target began to flap its arms and dance around.

  His heart thumped guiltily inside his chest. How long was he suspended in that meditative state, held fast by memory’s grip? He should have been watching her, should have accompanied her to the water’s edge, even though she’d asked him not to. He never should have let her stray more than a hand’s reach from his side. He’d sworn to protect her, but so had Finn, and the beast came through more readily than Bren.

  The black wolf broad-sided him, the hard edge of his massive shoulder knocking into the mage and sending him sprawling across the pebbled, icy sand. The air in his lungs seized, puffing between his lips painfully as he pushed up onto his hands and watched the scene unfold.

  The wolf moved quickly, driving into unexpected battle with a roar so brutal it could have frightened the sea from the shore. The thing that held Lorelei dropped her in surprise and began backing away in a panic. Its large hands held out before it, shaking in protest, the beast heard nothing beyond the terror of its mate. Finn charged, barreling forward and connecting with his enemy in a flurry of tearing claws. He grabbed the orc by the shoulders, bashed his head forward in a stunning crack against his enemy’s skull, then he tore the arms from its body in a single wrench. Blood sprayed in wild arches, a bellowing scream of rage and horror rising above the waves. The orc Bren struck with the fireball rolled around on the ground screaming and trying to put out the flames sizzling its thick skin.

  The mage gathered his wits, shook the stars from his head and pushed off to run toward Lorelei. He watched as he ran, the third of her attackers taking off in a panicked run up the northern line of the coast, but the wolf was faster. Driving on all fours in a blur of black fur tinged in ruby specks, he pounced his prey from behind and sent the massive warrior sprawling face-first into the sands. It skidded several feet, pinned beneath the wolf and shrieking mercy beneath the tear of razor-sharp claws.

  The wolf knew not the meaning of the word mercy. They’d attacked his mate, and he would not stop until every last one of them was dead.

  Kneeling beside Lorelei, he reached out to her and gripped her hand, drawing her into his arms. She buried her face into his shoulder, clutching the fabric of his robe as she sobbed deep, gulping breaths of dread mixed with relief. The sound was lost in the screams of the burnt thing writhing on the ground just feet away, making desperate attempt toward the water to stop the searing of its own skin baking beneath its flaming armor.

  Brendolowyn stared at the smoldering creature, eyes squinting until they focused on the sizzling features.

  Not once during the dozens of times he made trips to the coast during the last ten years had he encountered another living soul beyond the animals that made the sea its home. The occasional miners who made camp along the shore did so miles from where they were. What were orcs doing so far from Port Felar? Had they been hired? Sent by Aelfric to scout the shoreline, to search for the passage to Dunvarak, or for Lorelei herself?

  He’d been foolish to leave his guard down, to let her wander off alone while he sat and fretted over things he could not control.

  The hulking creature fell dead just inches from the water’s edge, the smell of burnt flesh and hair drifting on the wind to choke his senses. Lorelei tried to turn in his arms, straining toward the sound of its gurgling death cry, but Bren pushed her face deeper into his shoulder and stroked her hair with trembling hand.

  Her whole body shook against his. He glanced back to inspect the remains of her attackers. The wolf made quick work of them, the innards of those who would dare to harm his mate strewn across the beach, splatters of dark red blood seeping into the pebbled sand and staining the water as it rolled inward and pulled back out to sea.

  He couldn’t guess how long he’d been in meditation, how long she’d been struggling and crying out before he heard her. So far from the parameters of the actual moment, she could have been fighting them off for some time before he’d actually caught wind of her screams. Squeezing his eyes tight as he lowered his chin against the top of her head, he cursed himself silently and understood the archmage’s warnings, the true burden of the promise he’d made to Yovenna.

  His preoccupations were going to get them all killed long before they even came near their destination.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry. I should not have let you wander alone.”

  Even with his eyes closed, he could see the darkening shadow pass across the sun behind him, accompanied by a lingering, guttural growl. The hairs on the back of the mage’s neck bristled as the wolf’s heavy footsteps stomped down, his ragged, angry breath puffing out in a rage that had only just begun to be sated. He didn’t need to look back to know it was a warning; his own beast shied away from the brutish monster, shrinking deeper within him than it
had ever been.

  His arms loosened from around her until she disentangled herself from their safety and rose on shaking legs.

  “Finn,” she whimpered his name as she stumbled two steps toward him. “It wasn’t his fault. It’s all right,” she said, before throwing herself against the beast’s blood-stained, heaving chest and curling her fingers into the soft, thick fur there as she cried. “I’m all right.”

  The beast did not comfort her; he only glared at the mage with raging eyes the color of winter. Chest rising and falling with every ragged breath, he was the embodiment of rage. His tongue lolled, trickles of blood dripping from the short hairs beneath his maw and rolling through the thick fur of his chest. It stained Lorelei’s clothes, but she didn’t care. Finn swept his tongue out with a loud, wet sound to clean the blood away, all the while staring daggers at Brendolowyn.

  Finn had every right to glower at him. He’d left her to fend for herself, the one thing above all others they both swore to protect.

  When Brendolowyn started to move toward them, a low growl rattled in Finn’s throat again, but Lorelei scolded him, drawing back and shaking her finger at him the way one might do to a dog. “Stop it!” she yelled, bringing her other hand up to swipe at her tears. She smeared blood absently across her cheek, the starkness of it giving her a savage appearance. “Just stop it. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I went off alone. I told him not to come.”

  The wolf shied back from her scolding with a whistling whine of shame.

  She softened almost as easily as she’d grown hard with him, tilting her head and shaking it the way a mother might at a wayward child.

  “Look at you.” She started to reach for him again, her hand stopping just shy of a gaping wound on his upper arm. “You’re hurt.” The hardness she displayed grew tender, worry furrowing her brow as she grabbed the beast’s massive arm and began leading him toward the water. “We should wash that up then, come on.”

  She was so small in his hulking, black shadow, a brave little wisp of a girl leading a monster by the hand. Only she was no little girl, not by a long shot, and the monster she led saved her life… again. Splashing into the water, boots and all, the wolf followed. A foaming crest battered at their bodies, and he imagined were she not still recovering from the trauma of recent events, she might have laughed as she battled against the water’s force to keep her footing.

  Brendolowyn stood watching as long as he could stomach the sight of it, and then he averted his gaze. How had he endured the torment of watching them together lifetime after lifetime? Was there ever a point in some distant past when he did not ache for her? The mere thought of a heart that did not beat for her, of a mind not consumed with thoughts of his Light of Madra both intrigued and terrified him.

  If there was never such a time, he needed to make it happen. He needed to harden himself against his thoughts of her, against his own emotions and push her toward the man she was meant to be with—no matter how it pained him to see them together.

  Turning away from the water’s edge, he headed toward their camp and didn’t look back. They didn’t need him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Finn’s heart was still racing, wildly thumping inside his chest with no sign of slowing. Lorelei could feel it stronger than ever before, and it coupled with a flourish of frantic thoughts that weren’t her own. Terror, confusion, fury. The only thing that seemed to send white pulses of calm through the surging anger was her touch when she lifted her fingers to prod at the open wounds gushing blood into the thick black fur surrounding them.

  She scooped frigid water into her cold, cupped hands. Her fingers were so numb she could barely even feel them anymore. Dribbling it over his wounds, the wolf cringed and shook as the salt of the sea stung and then rolled diluted down his body before dripping into the water between them in clotted, red drops.

  He didn’t growl or yelp, but she could tell he wanted to.

  Her own heart was still thundering between her ribs, hands shaking and nausea churning in her gut. Every time she swallowed, she felt like she was going to be sick and the reality of what nearly happened washed over her again.

  She was almost killed, or taken, or whatever it was orcs did to women they snuck up on by the shore. Her upper-arms felt bruised and weak from how tightly her would-be captor squeezed her as she kicked and screamed.

  Whatever they might have been, their plans for her would not have been pleasant, of that she was sure. Her throat tightened again, bile burning against the back of her thick tongue. How many more times would she be able to ignore the need to vomit? All the blood wasn’t making it any easier.

  Her nerves had never been so frazzled in her life. She felt stupid, foolish as the reality of it all started to sink in. All she’d wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, some time to reflect on the road behind them and the journey ahead. She’d never seen the sea, only daydreamed about it, and it would be forever tainted in her mind as a place of danger. It made her sad because it really was a beautiful, vast and endless marvel to behold.

  Breathing in through her nose, nostrils flaring wide, the salt-tang of the air soothed her frayed emotions for a moment, and she was able to let go of the threat that was no longer a threat.

  Her journey nearly came to an end before it even started. Had it not been for Finn...?

  He saved her.

  Intrigued and terrified by the beast in front of her, she raised tentative eyes to look at his face. There was nothing reminiscent of Finn in its features, save for the brilliant, pale blue eyes staring back her, and yet there was no mistaking it was him. Broad shoulders rising and hitching with every ragged breath, the muscles in his chest rippled and twitched each time she touched him. Tilting her head upward, the fading sun beyond the horizon broke through the clouds, streaming pale silver light across the endless waves until it glinted off his dark, black coat.

  He was there, consciously with her, and some part of her was sure he was willing her to experience the emotions he was emitting. Lingering fear, waning rage, relief. A series of images she could scarcely grasp flashed through her mind, the wolf running, racing to her rescue. There was regret, shame and an underlying sense of inadequacy making him feel as if he’d somehow failed her.

  But how could he think that when he’d saved her?

  His thoughts edged through her, providing her with just enough understanding to make her feel ashamed of herself for being so stupid, while cementing the illusion of her safety.

  Yes, she was safe. For the moment anyway.

  For the first time she realized she would never be safe again. Not even Finn, who would just as surely lay down and die for her, could keep her truly safe. Not from her future, not from the things she was meant to face. But he would die trying, and that made her feel even sicker than she already did.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed,” she muttered.

  The scolding in her tone was weak, contradictory because she knew he was thinking the same. She was a fool, a naive little princess with no real concept of the dangers filling the world around her.

  Not that she’d been entirely mistaken about the task given to her. She knew it would be fraught with peril. There was a strong likelihood one, if not all, of them would not make it back. For the first time she wondered how anyone could expect greatness from her, how they could possibly believe she was meant to be anyone’s savior, much less expect her to change the future of the entire world.

  Gods, she could still remember a time when her biggest problem was defying the man she thought was her father, flouting his wishes for her to marry and bring him a good alliance. When her greatest challenge was finding ways to gain control over her own life, her own future. Now every minute of every day was a constant reminder she’d been little more than a stupid girl less than half a year ago, with no concept of how difficult life truly was.

  Life was not simple, everything that happened to her over the last few weeks should have been a lesson, but the naive part
of her went skipping down to the water’s edge with the same abandon she’d approached her life prior to discovering Trystay’s murderous plot for her. She actually believed nothing bad could happen.

  Never again.

  She felt so stupid and careless, so much like a child in need of scolding to guarantee she wouldn’t make the same mistake, but she wasn’t a child anymore. She was mistress of her own affairs, the only person with the power to convince her to take caution and stay alive was herself.

  The wolf snorted, the snuffled heat of his breath rushing through his nose as he jerked his body from her touch. Startled, Lorelei took a step back and lifted vibrant, amber eyes to study his face again.

  “Did that hurt? Well, I’m sorry if it did, but those wounds needs cleaned out.”

  He was hurt, badly, but in his infinite stubbornness he seemed averse to the pain.

  “The gods only know what nasty things those blades saw before they cut you,” she lectured. “Orcs aren’t exactly known for their cleanliness, you know. At least not from everything I’ve ever read about them, though how much of that can actually be believed, I’ve no idea.”

  He snarled again, silver huffs of breath clouding beneath the long snout filled with razor-sharp teeth.

  “I can’t exactly talk to you like this, you know.”

  Tilting his head to stare at her, she swore she felt something in her mind attempting to convince her otherwise, some distant voice stirring the wolf hidden in the deep recesses of her soul. She was already trembling; the rousing of the strange and unfamiliar part of herself she’d spent her whole life denying made her shudder. She shook it off.

  “Anyway, you should change back so I can get a better look at your wounds. I won’t watch.” She moved away from him, wading through the bursts of frigid water guiding her steps toward the shore. “Go on then,” she glanced back at him. “Change back so you can yell at me. I know you want to.”