He knelt and reached out for a hug.
She moved back, eyes narrowed. “You are Bannor?”
He nodded. “It’s me.” He looked down and rubbed his chest, thankful there weren’t any breasts there. “I’m not sure how we switched back.”
Sarai ringed him with her arms. He squeezed his beloved tight, relishing her warmth, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest. They broke apart and Sarai’s gaze went to Wren. She paled.
She touched the savant’s arm. The woman jerked and made a frightened mewling sound.
Bannor’s stomach twisted. Something was horribly wrong.
After a period of trying to rouse Wren, Sarai shook her head. “She’s totally withdrawn. What she must have seen at the end…” Her voice trailed off.
He remembered the savant’s words. They’d sounded so full of pain and wonder. Bannor, I can see myself. Likely she meant far more than her physical self, something staggering.
With Wren in this state, this probably wasn’t her dream. The absence of Wren’s boyfriend Grahm supported the idea. Sarai never saw this scene, so it couldn’t be her. Was it in his head? Even though it was plausible, it didn’t make sense. He remembered the sun going dark.
Could it be that they’d actually been transported to some far off piece of reality, a place so distant that Sarai could no longer touch her elemental powers. Wren yelled something about time and that she saw herself.
That brick between the eyes sensation. The queasy stomach. The ache in his skull. They felt similar to the sensations he had when Wren used the scroll to transport them to Hydra rock.
“Odin’s breath,” he murmured. It felt as if his bones had turned to clay. “Oh no.”
“My One?”
“This place,” he gestured to the sky. “It’s Wren’s dream. She wanted time to make sense of what she was seeing. She saw herself. The Nola fulfilled her last desires even as she was losing her grip on it.” He paused. “It either transported us here or created this place.” Bannor tightened a fist. His knuckles cracked. He recalled the dirge-like tone of his voice blurting at the heavens. All comes tumbling down. “This may be all that’s left.”
Wren’s whimpers grew then diminished.
Sarai glanced at the savant, then to Bannor. “What? Don’t be silly.”
He steeled himself, looking out at the water and the reflections on the black sea. “Wren implied that reality as we know it, is more precariously balanced than we’d like to think. One little push—”
“Wren was crazy!” Sarai’s voice went shrill. Bannor saw in her eyes that she believed more than her tone suggested. “She shouldn’t have been tampering with your Nola. Overweening little thief finally grabbed hold of something she couldn’t handle.” Sarai paused. “Served her right after what she did.”
He picked up a handful of sapphire dust and let it trickle through his fingers. “She saved our lives.”
“So?” Sarai glared at him. “She didn’t have to do—” She stopped herself. “That.”
“What? Kiss you? I like kissing you.”
Sarai scowled. “You know that’s not what I meant. Besides, she said those other things. She planned to leave you stuck in her body!”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be. I understand why a neophyte in command of the Garmtur scared her. I won’t hold it against Wren. Being petty doesn’t get us out of here.”
“Petty!?” She rocked back on her knees, fists on hips. “I’m not being petty. I never liked being herded across the countryside with that harridan snapping at our heels. You didn’t like it either.”
Wren kicked and writhed and Bannor glanced over. The woman went still.
“No, I didn’t.” He kept his voice calm, being separated from her elemental powers. The traumatic experiences with Mazerak and Wren had rightfully put his mate on edge. All he could do was weather the storm. “Wren was helping us the best way she knew how.”
Sarai pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and folded her arms. “I think you actually like her.”
Oh, Odin. Why did she have to want to fight now? They didn’t even know where they were. He kept a rein on his voice. “I admire Wren’s tenacity. She’s very capable.”
She snorted. “I’m certain. She and that tower of a henchwoman. Hmmph. Where were the ogress and her husband when we needed them? I’m killing minions and kissing Mazerak’s boot—” She shivered. “Where are Wren and Irodee? In a cage and asleep. Tremendous help!”
“I’ve never seen you like this.” Bannor shook his head. “Do you get like this often?”
Sarai stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sucked back the word ‘whine’. “Never mind.”
She rose and looked out at the horizon. She seemed to master herself. Her voice dropped. “I am not being petty,” she repeated. “I’ve been through a lot. She hasn’t helped.” Sarai kicked some sand on Wren’s legs. The savant twitched.
He frowned at the gesture, but let it pass.
“I’m sorry.” Bannor went to Sarai and hugged her from behind. “It’s my fault. If I didn’t have the power, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Sarai leaned her head back against his chest. “I shouldn’t yell at you. I saw what Wren did. It must be frightening to imagine that thinking the wrong thing could cause so much destruction.”
His stomach tightened. To get them out of here he might need to risk using the power again. He was like a child playing with fire. He wouldn’t quickly face that prospect.
“Very frightening. I never wanted to hurt anybody who didn’t hurt me first. It makes me knot-up inside whenever I think of things going crazy. Each Nola has a life of its own. I felt it inside of Wren. Hers is more developed—mature—under control. I can’t sense mine, as if it’s hiding and doesn’t want me to know it’s there.”
Sarai turned and looked in his eyes. “Why do you think?”
He sighed. “I don’t think it wants to be controlled.”
Her eyes widened. “But the danger..?”
Bannor swallowed. “Children think they’ll live forever and don’t fathom the consequences of their actions.” He dipped his forehead to touch hers. “Wren went inside me and forced the Garmtur into line. My Nola probably got mad and kicked her out, like her Kel’Varan tried to do to me. I think like a spiteful little child—it punished her.”
They looked at Wren lying in the sand curled in a ball.
Bannor stared at the moon in the cloud-streaked sky. His voice wavered. “Unless that child grows up. We may be here a very long time.”
* * *
Splinter realms, closed universes, alternate realities, parallel time sequences
they’re all a big joke played on us by Alpha and Gaea.
The more we learn about them and the rules that govern their existence, the more exceptions to those rules we discover. They stand as an unending challenge to the know-it-alls of the universe…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’.
Chapter Twenty-Six
« ^ »
Bannor walked down the glistening beach carrying the surprisingly heavy savant in his arms. Though smaller than Sarai, Wren weighed at least a stone more. She’d writhed and moaned at first, but now appeared calm.
They’d been in this new world for a bell now. All their efforts to revive Wren failed. They saw no other choice but to bring Wren along and hope they could find a way to heal her. Without her knowledge, they would probably never be able to leave this place safely. Unable to help Wren, they’d turned their attention to finding a way up the cliff where they could see the edge of inland forest. Where trees lived, there would be shelter, warmth, and food. All of them were necessities if they planned to sit a long vigil over the stricken savant.
The sea breeze picked up, the wind brisk and damp. Here on a flatter section of the beach tiny birds darted back and forth near the surf, chasing and being chased by the ebb and surge of the water.
Sarai had taken off
her boots and walked barefoot in the glistening sand. She swung Wren’s knapsack as if dancing with it. The waning orange light reflected on her pale skin and silvery hair. Bannor never remembered her looking more exquisite.
“You know, we’ve never walked together on a beach before,” she said in a quiet, speculative voice.
Bannor wished he didn’t have to carry Wren. “Never had a chance,” he said. “The ocean is so far from the mountains that I’ve only been on a beach a few times in my life.” He scanned the shadowy cliff looking for a way up. So far, nothing had looked promising. He turned his attention back to Sarai. “When was your last time?”
“Ten or fifteen summers at least. The coast is five hundred leagues from Malan’s nearest border. I’ve taken the three-day journey across the Iodite Sea many times, but that’s only a big lake. It’s not like the Moonshae Ocean.” She sighed, her attention focused on the breakers. “I see why the water looks black. What do you think makes the stars?”
He shook his head. “Maybe there are some glowing gems among the black. Perhaps the light doesn’t bend in this water like it does at home.”
She nodded. “I can only imagine the wonders out there. I love the open sea. It’s totally free. Father forbade me to travel on the ocean because he hated it so. His sister drowned in the Moonshaes during a storm.”
Bannor jogged Wren to renew his hold. Carrying the woman like this was difficult. They’d found nothing to make a sled from, and he couldn’t get the savant straightened out to carry her over his shoulder.
After he finished adjusting Wren, Bannor fixed Sarai with steady gaze. “Your Father was completely against it, and you went anyway?”
She nodded. “I’ve been on the big Nomar ships running before the storm around the straits of Canth. I’ve talked with sea dragons and walked on the shores of dark Silissia. Some of the grandest times of my life.”
He felt tightness in his throat. Wren suddenly seemed heavier in his arms. “I’m only another one of your defiances, aren’t I? Sarai proving to her parents that she won’t be dictated to.”
She stopped and put her fists on her hips. “Even if you are, Bannor. You are still my One. I love you. I must or I wouldn’t have stayed with you this long.”
“It has nothing to do with this forced marriage to Duke Myrgul?”
“Bannor, what has gotten into you? Lately, whenever we have a free moment, you’re poking at our relationship. Isn’t what we have good enough for you?”
“What we have is excellent,” Bannor replied. He lowered his voice. “It’s how long we’ll have it, that concerns me. I don’t like thinking that I might only be some whim of yours.”
Sarai let out a breath and tossed Wren’s pack up on the sand. “Put her down. I don’t like looking at you through that tangle of arms and legs.” She sniffed. “You probably should just toss her in the water. All she’s good for now is an anchor.”
He shook his head. “It surprises me how I’ve never noticed the mean streak in you.” He moved up the shore and set Wren down in a dry patch of sand.
“If you’d stop thinking of me as a human you might see more things.” The glow in her eyes brightened. She stepped close, held up a hand and wiggled her fingers in his face. “Just because I have four fingers and a thumb doesn’t mean I think the same, act like you, or even feel things as you do. I am an Elf. I have many streaks. I have to because of the millenniums of life ahead of me. We’ve only been together for a few turns of the seasons.”
She poked him in the stomach. “You haven’t begun to see all my facets. I’m almost five centuries old! It’s silly to think I’m hiding things from you. If I’d talked non-stop from the day we met you’d still know little of me.”
Bannor felt heat in his cheeks. She sounded like a mother lecturing a child. He started to interrupt, but Sarai poked him in the stomach again.
“I’m not finished. See something in me you don’t like? Live with it. All relationships are like that. Love is about understanding. Not some impossible perfection between two people. If, before this, you never saw things in me you didn’t like, then you hadn’t looked. I’ve seen things in you. It didn’t matter to me because love makes it trivial. What you should ask yourself is not ‘how long will it last’, but ‘how good can we make our time together.’ The simple truth is, the better it is then the longer it goes.”
He felt tiny. Sarai could do that to him; turn his indignation into guilt. She’d also evaded his point with an attack of her own. She always managed to turn his statements against him.
A movement drew his attention out to sea. He saw a procession of pouch-bills skimming across the swells. Graceful, effortless—in their environment. Like the birds, with language, Sarai was in her element. She glided over the top of words while he gamely tried to keep up.
What do you expect? She’s the daughter of a king.
He refused to be diverted this time. “So am I?”
“Are you what?”
“A whim!”
Sarai snorted. “If you are, you’re the most persistent whim I ever met. I don’t invest this much emotion on a passing fancy. Believe it. Let this be the last time we discuss it!” She scooped up a handful of water and splashed him with it. “If you ask again, I’ll dunk you in the nearest water I can find.”
They stared at one another while the waves crashed on the shore. He couldn’t help it. He believed that she truly loved him. Muscles he hadn’t realized were tight, loosened. He felt a smile spread across his face. “So, you’d dunk me?” Bannor took a step forward.
“Yes, I will.” She backed away smiling and flicked some more spray his direction. “Give it the soaking it deserves!”
He closed in on her. “Soak my head, eh?”
“Douse it good!” She laughed and dodged as he lunged for her. She sprinted along the edge of the surf with him in pursuit. He chased Sarai on a weaving course and tackled her into the shallows.
They wrestled while star-dotted waves rolled into them. For Bannor, the laughter, the cold spray and immersion were like a balm, washing away the anxiety and sense of being trapped. For the moment, they could be themselves, unguarded and free without threat of enemies.
They dragged themselves out of the surf sometime later, breathing hard and smiling, and collapsed in the sand by one another. For a while, they were both quiet, studying the orb of the moon.
He glanced toward Wren. The savant hadn’t moved.
“What do we do?” he asked. “Can’t stay here forever—can we?”
She took a long time to answer. “What if we tried and found out you’re right and this is all that’s left?”
“I’d say we were in trouble.” He tried to laugh it away, but a queasy sensation filtered through him. The prospect when seriously considered made him want to curl up in a ball like Wren. How could he possibly fix the damage? He knew almost nothing. Wren was the trained one and she lay on the beach in a heap, her mind turned inward away from the universe.
Even if they’d only been transported to this place, they didn’t know where ‘here’ was. Would the avatars be able to find them? There seemed to be an abundance of animals, but no people. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives in place bereft of all civilization.
Sarai sighed and rose. “I suppose we have to find a way to wake up Wren. She knows what she did.”
“How?”
Her eyes turned flinty. “She’s needed her head soaked for quite a while. It’s time it got done.”
“Huh?”
Sarai stalked down the beach toward the curled up savant.
Bannor chased after her. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer. Without ceremony, she grabbed one of Wren’s legs and dragged her toward the water. The savant writhed and made whining sounds.
He placed himself in front of Sarai. His heart rushed at the determined look on his mate’s face. “You can’t do that! She’ll drown!”
Sarai stared at him, eyes hard. “You have a better i
dea?”
“No.”
“Then get out of the way.”
“But—”
“Bannor, trust me! Much as I’d like to, I won’t kill the little trollop. Okay? Move.” She shoved against his stomach.
He didn’t budge. “The water?”
“Bannor, yes, the water—it’s cold and it’s wet.”
Wren made louder sounds and twisted in Sarai’s grip.
Sarai stomped on his toe.
“Ow!”
“Either help or move,” she growled. “We need her knowledge of your Nola. I don’t feel like waiting for her to slip into a death sleep or something.”
“I don’t like this,” Bannor mumbled. He moved and assisted in carrying Wren into the surf.
The savant kicked more vigorously as Sarai splashed water on her cheeks, throat, and chest. Wren’s heart-shaped face wore a grimace, and her eyes were clenched tightly shut. The woman’s skin looked waxy as if all the life in her flesh had been knotted up along with her psyche.
“Come on,” Sarai said, holding Wren’s head above the surface of the water. “You can’t get us into this and then go hide. Get out of there.”
“How do you know she even can?”
“Remember me telling you about elves who go kerakah over the loss of a human lover?”
He nodded.
“It is much like this. The shuddering and child-like sounds. It is a mind turned inward away from pain or fear. Many times they can be brought out with another shock or by getting them angry.” She took a big handful and dumped it across the bridge of Wren’s nose.
The savant cringed. She clawed the air trying to push them away.
“She’s certainly aware of the irritation.”
“Only superficially,” Sarai said. “Like a baby kicking in its mother’s belly in response to a loud noise.”
He held on as Wren thrashed. She still showed no signs of regaining consciousness. “What now?”
“Give it a little bit. Straighten out her legs.”
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