“To the icy plain below?” Reedis said, shaking his head. “Death might be quicker up here but it’s death either up or down.”
“What turns coal into diamond?” Ford said again, looking at the two.
The two exchanged looks and Reedis pursed his lips before saying, “Only a god can do this.”
Annabelle frowned and nodded. “Ophidian.”
“Even so, there must be a whole lot more of these little diamonds,” Reedis said. “We know that diamonds are made from the same substance as coal only crushed under the weight and heat of the deep earth.”
“I know where!” Ford shouted, rushing out of the locker and down towards the cabins. He stopped outside Nestor’s, burst the door open and began a quick but thorough search.
“Under the floorboards,” Annabelle said as she caught up with him. Ford nodded, already in the process of stooping down. He saw one spot that was different, gave a snort of disgust at the prince’s poor hiding abilities, then pulled out the slat and came up with handfuls of diamonds.
“Whatever was he thinking?” Reedis said as he joined them. “There must be a king’s ransom here!”
“Or a prince’s,” Ford said. “That’s probably what he was thinking.” He grabbed a sack and filled it quickly with all the diamonds he could. To the others he said, “Get the rest.”
“Where are you going?” Annabelle asked.
“On deck,” Ford said. “I have to tell the crew.”
“They’ll kill the prince,” Reedis warned.
Ford shrugged. He didn’t care. He was going join his long-lost god, Arolan, here in the frozen north. For all he knew, he and Spite would sail forever in the frozen sky.
#
On deck, the crew had gathered around the still prone form of the crown prince. Sykes stood over him, not protecting him from the occasional angry kick of the others.
“Men!” Ford shouted, gathering their attention. He heard Reedis and Annabelle come up and join him, their lungs heaving in the freezing air as they carried the sacks of diamonds up to the deck. Angus saw them, frowned, and moved to stand at Ford’s side.
“We have been betrayed,” Ford said, pointing to Nestor. “The coal is all gone and soon the ship will be stopped, motionless here over hundreds of miles of barren frozen ground.”
The crew groaned in shock.
“The prince stole this,” Ford said, upending his sacks of tiny diamonds. The crew looked at the sparkling gems, first in surprise and then in growing delight. Before they could react, he raised a hand. “But the prince could not make our coal — our life’s blood — into diamonds.” He paused to let them consider that. “That took a god.”
The men’s eyes went wide and then they started nodding and murmuring in agreement.
“I cannot say which god we enraged,” Ford replied. “Except for that god, over there.” He pointed ahead. The others craned their necks to the distant frozen god, then back to Ford. “That is the god Arolan, king of the sea.”
Some of the airmen took a second look, others gave Ford looks of disbelief and doubt. “I know because I was oathsworn to him,” Ford said. He pointed to Knox who nodded. “Oathsworn after a wyrm attacked our ship five years ago.” He pointed toward the god’s feet. “That wyrm, there.” He waited a moment. “The sea god was betrayed and we helped trap him here in the north.”
“Who can betray a god?” Nestor asked in a small voice.
“Another god,” Annabelle said sourly, appalled at the sniveling man’s lack of wits. “Who else?”
“Who would betray the sea god?” Nestor asked, rising to a crouch. “I mean, who would be so foolish?”
“Whoever would gain at the sea god’s loss,” Ford said.
Nestor frowned. “My father?”
Ford pursed his lips. “It’s possible,” he admitted, then shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter.” He turned to the crew. “I swore to help the sea god as best I could.” He dropped his head. “And now I’ll only be able to keep him company, frozen here in the north.”
“What about the diamonds?” a boy’s voice called out. Ford frowned for a moment, trying to remember something about a boy but his thoughts were drowned out by the din of the airmen’s voices in agreement.
“It’s our lives,” Ford said, picking up a handful of diamonds and throwing them toward the crew, “it’s our treasure.”
The crew roared in amazement and delight.
Ford raised a hand, and they all stopped racing forward to the gleaming diamonds on the deck.
“We’ll divvy them fair and square,” Ford said. He nodded to Knox. “See to it.”
“Now, sir?”
“Now,” Ford said, nodding. “We’ve not got much time left, might as well let the lads enjoy it.”
“We’ll be frozen rich, we will,” Sykes said, glaring at the prince.
“Who knows what we would have seen,” Marder said, “had we gone to the far north.” He shook his head, eyeing Knox studiously as the other started to portion out the diamonds, more now that Reedis and Annabelle had dumped their sacks.
“Krea will be safe,” Angus said. “And she’ll… she’ll never know what happened to us.”
“Only if the gods don’t tell her,” the small boy warned. Angus glanced toward the sound of the voice but couldn’t spot its owner.
Angus turned to Ford. “What will you do with your portion, captain?”
Ford frowned, lifting a small pile up in his hand and tossing the pretty glints in his palm.
“Dead, these are no use to me,” Ford said. He glanced toward the frozen god in the distance. The distance was much closer now. There were near enough to see Arolan’s frozen eyelids protecting his frozen eyes. He frowned. “It’s been a good life, I have no complaints.”
“‘Could have lived longer,” Annabelle suggested.
It took more time than Ford had guessed to divvy up the diamonds appropriately. When Knox touched finally his hand to his forehead in salute, they were right beside the frozen form of Arolan.
“All done, captain,” Knox said.
“Very well,” Ford said. He went to the starboard rail and stood looking at Arolan. Finally he raised the hand that held the diamonds in a grim salute. “My god, I salute you!”
And he threw the diamonds into the sky. As they fell, they formed a rainbow on the way to the ground.
“I salute you!” Annabelle said, tossing her diamonds after Ford’s.
“Arolan!” Knox shouted, throwing his diamonds far out toward the frozen god.
“To the gods!” Angus said, throwing his share.
“What the hell, to the gods!” Sykes shouted, throwing his lot as well.
One by one, the crew came to salute the frozen god and threw their diamonds to the ground.
A long rainbow streamed behind them falling earthwards.
“Did he get his share?” Ford said, pointing to Nestor.
“He did,” Knox allowed sourly. To the crown prince he said, “You’re now the richest man on the ship.”
Nestor opened his eyes and glanced up at the sailors and officers looking down at him. He rose, helped up by the small boy who appeared at his side.
He nodded to the boy in thanks and continued slowly to the ship’s side.
“God Arolan, I salute you!” Nestor shouted, throwing his diamonds high into the air. In a lower voice he added, “I couldn’t freeze to death in better company.”
Ford looked at him in surprise. “Why, my prince, I’ve never been prouder of you than in this moment.”
Nestor looked over to him and bowed low. “My captain, I am proud to have your praise.”
“Look!” Reedis shouted.
“Magic!” Annabelle swore as if in pain. “My gods, the magic!”
Ford looked around at them and then toward where they were pointing.
> On their side, the frozen god stirred.
“Arolan!” Ford cried in amazement.
“Arolan!” “Arolan!” “Arolan!” the crew shouted, moving to the side and cheering at the sight of a god slowing wakening, breaking out of his icy cage and stirring in the frozen sky.
“Well,” Ford said to Knox, “it was worth it.”
“Indeed it was,” Knox agreed.
“It is not over yet,” the small boy said, laughing. “I advise you all to hold on!”
Ford looked around for the small boy and suddenly moved to grab Annabelle and Reedis. “Hold on!”
The great god Arolan turned his head, pursed his lips —
— and blew the royal airship Spite deep into the bitter north, high in the frozen sky.
Wyvern’s Fate
Book 4
Twin Soul series
Chapter One: Flight
With a final triumphant cry, Krea clawed her way higher and higher above the outraged townsfolk, soaring through the falling snow to heights which made her newfound wings ache with joy. She was on fire. So hot that the snow melted all around her. She shrieked in triumph, flinging her defiance not just to the king and the townsfolk but also to Ametza, the town’s sea goddess.
Water! What was Ametza’s power compared to Krea’s burning flame and soaring wings?
Contemptuously, Krea turned north and flew steadily away from the seaside town.
She reveled in her flight. She swooped down and soared back up in the skies, joyful for every new feeling, every wingbeat.
On and on she flew. Minutes became hours. Still the snow fell. And still Krea, with her new wyvern body, with the heat of the “twin souls,” flew onward.
The wyvern had given her a gift greater than she could possibly imagine, even if it was at a price more painful than she ever dreamed. Her new heart, the one that had grown after Angus, her betrothed, had pierced the old one, beat strongly, loudly.
She was fire, she was steam, she was boundless.
She was bloody freezing! Suddenly, Krea realized that she was shivering. Her wings were lead weights that she could barely lift one more time. She found herself gliding more, flapping less. And less, and less.
The ground loomed in front of her. There was something wrong with getting too near the ground, Krea thought. But the snow — all that pleasant whiteness — it called to her. She could wrap herself in its soft blanket and be comforted. That notion seemed off, though with each passing painful flap, it grew more and more attractive. She could close her eyes. Rest. Sleep. If just for a moment.
Wham!
Krea woke long enough to realize that she’d hit the ground hard. She’d hurt more than she could ever imagine. And then she knew no more.
#
Bells rang around her. She was moving. Her wings… she couldn’t feel her wings! She felt warm, comfortable. The motion was steady, slow. There was no rush of wind in her ears. She was on the ground. On something else that moved.
Krea opened her eyes. She was in a brightly colored caravan, wrapped in a quilt of warm furs. A lantern housed a single candle that gave the whole interior a fuzzy, warm light.
“Don’t move,” a woman’s voice called from beyond the canvas covering at the front of the caravan. “We’ll be there soon.”
“Where?” Krea asked. And then, “And who are you?”
“I’m Ibb’s driver,” the voice replied. “I’m taking you to safety.”
“The north?” Krea guessed, recalling her conversation with mechanical Ibb before she’d changed from a girl to a flying twin-souled wyvern.
“The house of the north,” the woman said in agreement. “You’ll be safe there.”
The woman made some guttural noise and the caravan slowed. Stopped. A sound of rustling heralded the woman’s arrival through the canvas door.
Krea realized she could hear but couldn’t twist her head upwards to peer toward the front of the caravan. Her worry was relieved when the woman stepped into her view.
A multi-colored scarf covered her mouth. Her eyes were hazel and warm. Her skin was freckled. Krea caught sight of large boots and a thick brown leather coat. The woman moved out of her view, toward the front of the caravan and rattled some dishes. A moment later she returned with a bowl of something steaming that smelled heavenly.
“You shouldn’t move,” the woman said, as she knelt beside her. She spooned some of the hot liquid from the bowl, blew on it and drank. Satisfied, she turned to Krea and repeated the process, spooning the liquid into Krea’s parched mouth. She kept feeding her until Krea finally felt warm. Somehow, without speaking, the other woman knew for she finished the bowl herself. “You rest now,” the woman said. “We’ve still got a long ways to go.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lyric,” the woman replied, her eyes twinkling. She made a pushing motion toward Krea, indicating that she shouldn’t move. “Sleep, we’ll be there before you wake again.”
#
As if Lyric’s words were a spell, sleep engulfed Krea immediately. She slipped into a comforting darkness. In the darkness, two golden eyes opened. Krea knew she was sleeping, but could not wake up. She also knew that this was not a dream, it was something different altogether.
“Are you Ophidian?” she asked, wondering if the god had once again laid his eye on her.
“No, my dear,” a woman’s voice replied. She recognized it instantly, it was Annora.
“I know you,” Krea said.
A face started to appear around the golden eyes. It was a wyvern, similar to the one she had seen only a few days ago. But this wyvern was different, she had white scales and golden eyes. A winter wyvern.
“In a way, yes,” the wyvern said.
“But you aren’t Annora.” Krea replied.
The wyvern nodded its head, her expression grim.
“No, I am Wymarc. My dear Annora has gone with the Ferryman to judgment.”
Krea remembered. She was in the field of blue wyvern flowers when she asked Annora how she could help her. When she was offered a gift, one that could let her speak to the gods themselves, she impulsively agreed. But the gift had a price as well as a reward: the price was that she had to die; the reward was that she became a twin-souled wyvern. To complete the transformation, her betrothed, Angus Franck, her father’s apprentice, had pierced her heart with her mother’s hatpin.
Krea felt the sting of grief, but it was not her grief. It was Wymarc’s grief, tears welled in her golden eyes.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Krea said, wanting to reach out a hand, and into her vision came one. It was her hand as she remembered it. Pale with thin long fingers, with several scars from her younger impulsive nature.
Her hand touched Wymarc’s face, and she smiled.
“My dear, this will not be easy for either of us. Learning to share a body never is.”
Wymarc formed changed suddenly, from a face to a magnificent body, white-scaled, with two legs and powerful wings. Swirls seemed to be carved into each of her scales.
Krea realized what Wymarc had meant. She remembered falling off that cliff and transforming.
This form was her. She had become a wyvern.
Chapter Two: Meetings
Krea woke up to see nothing but white and an eerie silence.
Was she dead? She looked closer and realized it was white marble. More pristine than the marble she had ever seen in the temple of Ametza.
She heard a rocking noise, and saw a young woman, about the same age as her, rocking back in forth in an old wooden rocking chair which was painted white to match the room. She wore all white, and her black hair was twisted into a bun. She was knitting a hat out of blood-red dyed wool. A cold chill went down Krea’s spine.
“For a moment, I thought I was dead,” Krea said to the young woman.
The young woman nodded, and reached next to Krea. Krea flinched, but then realized that beside her was a table made from the same white marble. A dented copper teapot sat on it, next to a pair of circular gold-rimmed sunglasses.
Were those glasses for her?
She took a deep breath. She recognized the tea’s scent immediately. Her mother had once served it to her, many years before. It was imported from a land far away.
“Green tea,” she said.
The young woman nodded, and poured the tea into a chipped, faded colorful cup, then offered it to Krea. She waited while Krea drank her tea, refilled the cup when Krea had emptied it and waited, still silent, until parched Krea had drunk her fill.
“Who are you?” Krea asked, but before the girl could answer, Lyric walked in. She recognized her by her eyes and freckles.
“Hello, Krea,” Lyric said, then turned to the young woman. “Thank you for your help.”
The young woman nodded, and then exited the room.
“Can you walk yet?” Lyric asked.
Krea moved her legs and noticed she was wearing a simple white dress.
“Good, come with me,” Lyric said as she walked toward the door.
“But I have so many questions to ask you!” Krea said.
Lyric turned and gave Krea a smile, then pointed to sunglasses and a pair of brown leather shoes on the ground next to her bed.
“After all you have been through, you should speak to the gods first. Their wisdom surpasses mine. Oh, and wear those shoes. They were made for you.”
Krea slipped into the shoes, the leather wrapped around her feet perfectly. She then put on the glasses. They were molded to her face comfortably, and a strain and low level of eye pain she was accustomed to vanished.
Lyric began to walk out the door and Krea followed.
“Where are we?” Krea asked as she caught up with Lyric. The new shoes fit really well. Krea thought she’d never had such marvelous shoes in her life. She said to Lyric, who nodded in appreciation.
“They owners of this place can be kind, if they wish,” Lyric said.
They walked down a long corridor which faded from white marble to yellow marble. There were several corridors branching off to the left and right but they passed them without pause. Krea didn’t even have enough time to peer down them in curiosity as Lyric bustled them forward.
Twin Soul Series Omnibus 1: Books 1-5 (Twin Soul Series Book Sets) Page 21