“That move you did, where you baited me high then spun down at an angle, backhanding the blade,” Gallord-Smit was saying, trying to pantomime a movement, but stopping with a grunt and shifting his weight delicately off his right leg. “Dangerous, but you nearly had me with that one, son.”
“Dangerous is right,” Arad laughed. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had just woken up in the morning after a late night. Still, it was the sweetest music to her ears, and she barely paid attention to what he was saying, instead closing her eyes and simply absorbing the sound. “I guess I’ve gotten used to practicing against opponents who aren’t as quick as you are, Front-Captain,” he said.
Gallord-Smit shook his head. “Not about quickness, son. I just saw where you were going with it. Well, where I thought you were going. You’re so rotting fast that by the time I tried to take advantage, you nearly had my head off. Let me tell you, when your skill and experience match your balance and speed,” he paused, chuckling to himself, though Sayri couldn’t see him smile from where she was, “I think you’ll be the best I’ve ever seen.”
Sayri frowned, still halfway through the door, as she became aware of what they were saying. What were they talking about—practicing on the ship? She had seen them exchange a few moves on the journey across from Benn’s Harbour, but only lightly while they discussed technique. They hadn’t suited up for practice and gone at each other seriously.
“Hopefully I’ll never again test myself against someone with your talents,” Arad said. “I’d like to learn how you predicted my tactics so quickly.”
“I’d be pleased to instruct you, son. In fact, it would be my honour back in Benn’s Harbour, if you’d have me. The least I could do,” the Front-Captain added, his voice betraying a touch of guilt.
“It would be my honour, Front-Captain,” Arad replied, his tone taking on an air of formality; Sayri could imagine him attempting to present a Somrian bow from his semi-prone position. “I’d be a fool not to try and learn from the man who defeated me.”
Sayri cocked her head to the side. What was he saying?
“Defeated?” Gallord-Smit scoffed. “Son, you had me dead to rights, if you hadn’t been distracted.”
“I don’t know about that, Front-Captain.”
Sayri watched the officer’s bald head from her place at the portal. He had shaved himself, restoring his appearance to that of when she first encountered him almost two years before in Lord Perrile’s prisons. Only that drooping moustache had been left, though it was much shorter now. He had seemed a kindly man, and had agreed happily to Arad’s ploy which had saved her life. In a way, she had him to thank as well.
“What was, it anyway? That distracted you in that moment?” Gallord-Smit was asking.
The room was silent a long moment; Sayri became away of her breathing, which was tight, and her heart, which was racing. She didn’t quite understand what she was hearing, but a cold comprehension was pushing its way up from deep within her.
“I—I have to thank you, Front-Captain, for saving Sayri’s life,” Arad replied finally. “She is everything to me. If you had not saved her . . . I’m not sure I would want to be alive now.”
Gallord-Smit straightened. “Son? I didn’t save her. Her friends appeared after we fought. Together we all ran for the beach. In fact,” he added after a moment’s thought, wonder evident in his tone, “If it were not for her, we would all be dead right now—including you, even without my sword run through your belly. Truly dead.”
Sayri’s stomach churned. Arad had fought Gallord-Smit? He was the one who inflicted the wound that nearly took Arad’s life—that had taken his life? Her body numbed over, frozen in horror. The man who had nearly killed him, standing by his bedside? Her throat went dry in shock, then tightened with rage. She felt sick.
Arad grunted. “She saved you? That’s . . . interesting. Well,” he went on, some confusion in his voice, “You will save her. My final request stands, Front-Captain. You must stay by her. One day, you will save her life; it is a certainty.”
Gallord-Smit laughed. “How can you be so—?” he began, but he broke off as Sayri smashed the door open and stormed into the room.
“Get out!” she shouted, glaring at the veteran officer, and thrusting a finger at the open doorway. “Now!”
“Sayri?” Arad said, sounding muddled, but she ignored him. Gallord-Smit was still standing there, and her adrenalin was surging.
“Sayri,” the Front-Captain began. His face was twisted with regret. “I wanted to tell you, but—”
“Tell me what? That you murdered him? That you were the killer I sailed halfway across the world to save him from?” Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and her face was so filled with blood it felt like it would burst.
Gallord-Smit took a step toward her, his hands held out passively. “I cannot blame you for hating me,” he admitted.
“I SAID GET OUT!” Sayri screamed. Throw him into the hall, she ordered the Link.
That person is not protected by wise means. You may be held responsible for damages. Are you sure you want to do this?
“Yes, rot you!” she raged, pointing a finger at Gallord-Smit, then jerking it toward the doorway. Like the warder back in Somria, the Front-Captain simply fell across the room as if the entire ship had been turned on its end, the doorway being placed at the lowest point. His limbs flailed wildly as he tumbled through the air, though he did not cry out. When he glanced off the doorframe on the way through, she heard dull impacts and snapping, then he vanished down the passageway with a crash.
She slammed the door—without taking a step—as an afterthought. Then, suddenly becoming aware that she had been holding her breath, she gasped and, swooning, collapsed to the wooden deck.
Her vision was all stars for a moment. When it returned, she was being cradled by Arad’s strong arms, her hands and feet buzzing as if she’d slept on them.
“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear, his voice rich with concern.
Arad was holding her. He had his arms around her, and his voice was a whisper in her ear . . . she swooned again, this time from pure relief and delight. Turning to look at him, she raised two shaking hands and placed them tentatively against his neck. “Are you truly here? Arad? Oh, my Arad?”
“Yes,” he exhaled. “Yes, Sayri, I’m back. Thanks to you,” he added, a whimsical smile curling his lips. “But my love, you were too harsh with the Front-Captain. I must see if he is all right.”
“He killed you,” she said, her voice high and tight. “Killed you. My—” Tears burst up and out, and racing down her cheeks, and her view of him was blurred out. “He took you from me, and left me alone. You left me alone, Arad . . .” The tears become sobs, and then a wail, and then she was collapsing in his arms again, overwhelmed by joy that he was holding her, and grief in losing him, and rage at what Gallord-Smit had done. She shuddered as the emotion poured from her, clutching him to her as desperately tightly as possible, then pounding his chest in anger and horror, then clutching him again. The poise she had held to so tightly since losing him abandoned her, and she became a thing of pure, raw, anguish and relief.
When she had finally quieted, her sobs reduced to whines and then finally exhausted sighs, she felt herself being lifted and carried. She had not slept since Arad’s death, not truly, and so when he placed her upon the sleeping platform and kissed her forehead—it did not occur to her to be amazed at his strength after only just waking—she drifted into a fitful, disturbed sleep.
・
She woke in complete darkness. No light came from the portholes, and the lamp was extinguished; at first she saw nothing at all, then her vision adjusted and she could make out shapes and textures and muted colours. She had always seen well at night, but since her studies with the Great Link she could see in complete darkness almost as well as in the light.
In her half-awake state, she forgot where she was. A moment of panic rushed through her, in which she nearly rea
ched out with the Link to find Arad, then she discovered him sleeping beside her, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in a deep sleep.
Sayri propped herself up on an elbow and examined him, sighing. He was there, truly there; Arad was back. He was alive.
She stroked his thick shoulder lightly; he stirred, his face turning to her, but he did not wake. He seemed more muscular than she remembered—not larger, really, but considerably more defined; sculpted, even. She marvelled at his physique; it was a wonder to behold. He was, she was certain, in the prime condition in his life—he would never achieve greater physical prowess. She wondered what extraordinary training regimen he had undergone since they separated to achieve such quick and incredible results.
Then something dawned upon her. She had not seen him for a long time, it was true; many moons—but she had held him only two days previously on the beach. She had made love to him—she felt her face redden as she remembered it—and he had possessed the well-muscled physique of a warrior; but nothing like this!
She sat up with a jerk, and stared at him.
Arad’s eyes fluttered open; he blinked away sleep. “Sayri?” he asked, looking up at her.
She reached for the blanket at his chest and slowly drew it back. His chest was, like his arms and shoulders, heavily muscled; much more so than she remembered. His stomach was thick and chiseled, and—
There was no wound, no scar.
She pulled her hands back in surprise. Could she have done such a thing?
Arad caught her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “It’s all right,” he said. She thought it an enormously odd thing to say.
“Did I do this?” she whispered in wonder, running her hands down along his abdomen. The muscles were rippled and solid. She had been correct; there was no injury, and not a mark.
“You?” Arad asked; he sounded confused, though not by her words. Rather, he cocked his head to the side as if considering something unsaid. “I’m—not sure,” he concluded finally. “Do you not know?”
“I thought I healed you. But—your body has changed, Arad. How can that be? I only tried to heal you. How could your body have changed like this?”
He took a deep breath, considering. “I had the strangest dream, Sayri,” he told her, as if it was the answer to her question. “At least I thought it was. But—I don’t think it was a dream, now.”
Sayri shook her head. “I don’t understand.” Confused, she addressed another mystery that had haunted her half in and out of sleep. “Arad, what did you mean, what you said to that . . . what you said to the Front-Captain? About him saving my life?”
Arad smiled. “It won’t make any sense to you at all, Sayri. At least not now.” When she continued to stare at him, he shrugged. “Would you think me mad if I told you I hear voices?”
Sayri’s face went flat. “Voices?” she asked, barely getting the word out.
Arad laughed, holding his hands out to cradle her cheeks. “I’m not insane, Sayri, I promise you. At least no more than before. You needn’t worry about that,” he assured her.
Suddenly Sayri became aware of something else she had missed—Arad could see her expression. He knew exactly where to reach out in order to touch her face.
He could see her in the darkness as well as she him!
“Arad,” she whispered. “Are you—can you channel the Link?”
“The what?” he asked, apparently baffled. “The Great Link, you mean? I’m not sure what that means, channeling it.”
“I threw him out the door. The Front-Captain,” she reminded him. Had he even been surprised? She couldn’t recall his reaction.
“Yes, and nearly killed him, Sayri. He may not walk properly again.” His face clouded and he seemed about to say something else, but after a moment he continued. “The Front-Captain told me about your powers. I have to admit I didn’t entirely believe it, until that moment,” he admitted. “But with everything else I’ve seen, well, I suppose it’s just another wonder to try to grasp.”
“So you can’t do it?”
He shook his head. “Ah, no, Sayri. I can’t do that. Why would you think I could?”
She sighed, frowning. “You said you’ve heard the Voice . . .” she prompted.
Gradually, Arad’s expression turned from comforting to uncertainty, and then, evolving before her eyes, to comprehension. “You hear it, too!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment.
She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes watering over. It was incredible; not only did she have Arad back, but he understood a secret she had carried alone for years! “When did you first hear it?” she asked tentatively.
“The day we met,” he answered immediately. “I—well, this will sound silly, now. I thought that some sort of spirit was bringing us together. I know better now, of course,” he laughed.
“What do you mean, you know better? You’ve realized that the Voice comes from the Link? How did you discover it?”
Arad cocked his head to the side. “The Link? The Voice doesn’t come from the Link, Sayri.” He took a deep breath and sighed, taking her by both shoulders. “I thought you knew. I’m quite sure—it comes from you.”
“From me?” She glared at him. “That’s ridiculous. I’d know if I was making those thoughts. Besides, how would I send them to you? And I thought you heard it before I met you? It makes no sense.” She crossed her arms and shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know where you would get such an idea.”
Arad grinned, and she couldn’t help but loose her attempt at seeming angry. “Not you now,” he said cryptically.
“Not now? So—you’re saying I had the power to send thoughts and lost it? And forgot about it? That’s even more ridiculous, Arad.”
“No, I’m saying you will in the future,” he replied quietly and confidently. “About ten summers from now, more or less.” At that he emulated her pose, crossing his arms and frowning.
“That’s—” Sayri scrunched her face up at him. “Are you just making this up?” she asked, skeptically.
“No, I’m not,” he said, becoming more serious. “I had an experience while unconscious. Or, uh, dead.” He paused a moment, boggling at the concept. “Anyhow—I met you, an older you. And you seemed to know exactly what was happening. I’m only guessing, but I think you—that you—may be responsible for the Voice.”
Sayri considered. “The Voice is always me—I mean, it’s always in my own voice,” she said, feeling an odd, surreal distance, as if she were watching the conversation from the outside.
“See? It makes sense that it’s you. And the future you would know everything that happened to me, even before we met,” he pointed out.
It almost worked, but didn’t quite seem to fit. “So—when you hear the Voice, it’s me?” she asked. “Even before you met me?”
Arad paused. “Well, no. That’s . . . odd. It was always my voice. Except that time,” he added, shrugging.
“Then . . .” Sayri pulled her knees under her so that she sat upon her heels. The blanket, which had already fallen half off her when she sat up, fell completely away. She realized with a start that she was in her smallclothes; that meant Arad had undressed her. Her cheeks began to flush and she started to reach to cover herself, then she chastised herself for being silly. Arad had, after all, seen her completely nude when they—
She blushed even more, and noticed he was grinning at her. She swatted at him before continuing, but stayed sitting up in full view, trying to be brazen. “Well,” she continued, “if you heard your voice and I heard mine, then by your theory we would both have to be sending the Voice from the future. Is that what you’re suggesting?” She raised her eyebrows at him, tapping her fingers on her knees, directing a coy smile at him.
He sighed. “Well, I didn’t see myself in the vision. Perhaps I need to give this some more thought.” He looked disappointed for a moment, his eyes on her knees. Then a mischievous smile appeared, and his hand drifted up the outside of her thigh.
; Sayri glanced down at the blanket that covered him from the waist down, where she saw something stirring. “Oh, my,” she murmured, raising a hand to her reddening cheek. Then she decided to do something even more shameless.
・ ・
The porthole was blue when he rolled off her, both of them drenched in sweat. His stamina was unbelievable—he certainly was no longer recovering! Every muscle in her body ached, and she felt like she had been riding a horse all night. Which, in a way, she supposed she had.
“I need water,” she croaked. She would have gone to fetch it herself, but she didn’t know if she could walk.
“I’ll go,” Arad said, springing from the sleeping platform in a remarkable leap, and making for the door completely nude.
“Arad!” She cried out in alarm, then felt foolish as she saw his wry smile. He returned to recover his breeches and, stopping to deliver a lingering kiss, went out into the passageway.
After he left, she considered what he had suggested. She had assumed the Voice had come from the Great Link all along; after all, it responded to her questions with answers—sometimes. But there were discrepancies that put her assumption into question. Why did the Voice at times offer her unsolicited advice, and at other times refuse to answer her? Why did it sometimes spout incomprehensible babble, seemingly talking to itself? And why could she reach out and affect things to a certain distance, but not beyond?
She had hoped in that moment when they discovered that he too had heard the Voice that he would also share in her newfound power; together they might have been able to exchange what they’d learned. He, however, did not have those abilities.
At least not yet. It was worth experimenting with. Perhaps taking him to see Ooji?
No, that was impossible; Ooji was in Somria. She sighed and wondered if she would ever see her kindly mentor again.
Sayri's Whisper: The Great Link Book 1 Page 71