Into the Wind

by Anthony, Shira

  “I’ve only been once.”

  “When Odhrán brought you?” Taren pressed.

  Brynn bit his lower lip. “No. I came to explore and I….”

  “And Odhrán found you.” In spite of his exhaustion, Taren had noticed they’d circled several times before Brynn had decided on a direction in which to lead them.

  “Aye.” Something in Brynn’s gaze told Taren Brynn hadn’t easily escaped Odhrán’s clutches.

  “Why did he let you go? You knew how to find him. For someone who doesn’t want to be found, it seems unlikely.”

  “I told you,” Brynn said with obvious irritation, “I work for him now.”

  “Perhaps you do.”

  “Perhaps?” Brynn was indignant. He sat up and scowled at Taren.

  “Or perhaps you have no idea where to find him.” Taren crossed his arms over his chest and watched Brynn with careful attention. He suspected something else, in fact, but he’d not let on. At least not yet.

  “Of course I know where to find him. He’s here, on this island.”

  “I don’t doubt that he’s here.” That much made sense. Taren couldn’t have imagined a better stronghold than this unforgiving island. “But if you know where he is, why have we been walking around in circles for the better part of a day?”

  “We have not.”

  “My sense of direction is not as poor as you think, whelp.” Taren couldn’t help but laugh at the look of righteous anger on Brynn’s face. “Fess up. You came here, but you didn’t find him, did you?”

  “I—”

  “He found you.”

  Brynn glanced around them, studying the trees, the underbrush, and the dirt beneath their feet as if they held great interest for him. “It… it’s not what you think. I do work for him. I swear it!”

  “If you work for him, why would you lead me to him? Even assuming you know how to find him.” Taren waited patiently.

  “I… well… it’s a bit complicated.”

  “Aye,” Taren said with a chuckle. “I believe that. What I want to know is why I shouldn’t cancel our bargain.” When Brynn looked back at him without understanding, Taren added, “I was to pay you to lead me to him.”

  Brynn fidgeted beneath Taren’s gaze. “You shouldn’t cancel it,” he blustered. “I’ll give you what you want. I—”

  “Why should I believe you? You clearly don’t know how to find him. You may know he’s here, but even a fool can tell we’re lost. I might as well look for him myself.” Taren watched as Brynn squirmed a bit more.

  “I….” Brynn paused, his shoulders drooping under the weight of Taren’s words. “Yes. You’re right. I don’t know how to find him.”

  “Now we’re making headway.” Taren fingered the necklace of stones and shells Brynn had so obviously been eyeing since they’d left on their journey.

  Brynn said nothing but shifted his gaze once more and chewed his lower lip.

  “Tell me the truth, or I go look for Odhrán without your help,” Taren pressed.

  “I… ah… well, you see…,” Brynn stammered.

  “He told you to bring me here, didn’t he?”

  Brynn opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, then closed it again and nodded.

  “Good.”

  “But aren’t you afraid he’ll kill you?” Brynn asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Of course I am.” Taren saw no reason to be anything but honest. “But he may know where I can find something very important.”

  “What’s so important that you’d risk your life?”

  “I told you before. Our bargain doesn’t include sharing my secrets.” Taren smiled at Brynn.

  “Does that mean we still have a bargain?” Brynn appeared buoyed to hear this.

  “Aye. Take me to where they found you the last time. Assuming you can find it again,” Taren added with a chuckle.

  “I can find it. We’ve been there already. The clearing where we found the berries, near the top of the cliffs.” Brynn cocked his head to one side and offered Taren a flirtatious smile. The boy was incorrigible! If Brynn made it back alive, Taren would make sure he found a better life than the one he had now.

  NIGHT FELL with no sign of the pirates. As his stomach growled in protest, Taren considered leaving Brynn to fish in his Ea form but decided against it. If Odhrán was here, he wouldn’t risk being separated from Brynn. If tomorrow passed with no more sign of the pirate or his men, Taren would leave the island and find Ian and the Phantom.

  As it began to rain, Taren lay next to Brynn under the impromptu shelter they had crafted from tree branches and leaves. Brynn shivered but did not move to close the gap between them and take advantage of Taren’s warmth. Taren wondered what might have happened to cause Brynn to fear the touch of another person, though he could well imagine the reason. How strange that one moment Brynn was offering Taren his body and the next he was pulling away.

  Taren repressed a sigh, then pulled off his shirt and laid it over Brynn’s bare chest. It wasn’t much, but Brynn would be a bit warmer, at least. Taren closed his eyes and thought of Ian.

  Ten

  TAREN DREAMED he’d been swimming for days. Or was it weeks now? It could have been. He’d long since lost track of time. He’d eaten little since he left Ea’nu, but his stomach had ceased its weak protests days ago. He’d live long enough without food to do this thing. After that….

  Owyn. You told me to live so that I might help our people. You didn’t tell me I’d live so long without you.

  He was so tired.

  “Just a bit longer, beloved Treande, and we’ll be together. I promise.” He heard Owyn’s voice as if he were swimming beside him.

  I’ll hold you to that promise. Treande smiled.

  When the priestess, Aerin, paid a call to the tiny hut where he’d made his home since he’d led the Ea to the island nearly two hundred years before, he’d been surprised. He hadn’t seen her in at least a century. She’d insisted on remaining on the mainland, watching over the last of Owyn’s kin who’d stayed behind as sentinels to warn their people should the humans once again become a threat.

  “You didn’t think you could hide forever, did you?” she’d asked as she walked in uninvited.

  “I wasn’t hiding from you.”

  She watched him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then laughed and said, “No. I suppose not. But you hide from them.”

  He knew she meant the island’s other inhabitants. She was right. He was hiding from them. He’d been hoping to fade from the islanders’ collective memory now that the new temple had been built.

  “It’s high time they moved on,” he said as he sat heavily on the wooden stool in the corner by the fireplace. There was no fire burning there, but Treande caught the scent of charred pine and inhaled deeply. The smell reminded him of his days at the temple with Owyn at his side.

  “They’re restless. They have no purpose now that the temple’s been built.” She sat in his only chair and crossed her legs beneath her. She’d been young when they’d left the mainland; she’d begun her studies with Owyn ten years before he’d been killed. She was far more powerful now; he could feel her gift radiate from her. It was a calm, steady sensation, much like the feel of the wind on his face when he stood at the edge of the water.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Aerin laughed again. “Too old for niceties, I see.”

  “Yes.” Old and tired. Ready to move on from this life. “Might as well say it and be done with it, woman. I’m too old to wait around for you to speak your mind.”

  “The goddess has shown me the future,” she said slowly, watching him for his reaction.

  “Another prophecy?” He sighed. If he’d learned one thing about the goddess’s will, it was that she demanded much of him.

  “Call it what you will.”

  He let out a slow breath and said, with as much patience as he could muster, “What does she ask of me?”

  “One last undertaking,
” she replied.

  “And then?”

  She pursed her lips and her gaze met his. “What do you wish?”

  He stood up and looked out the small window toward the water. How long had it been since he last transformed? His human body ached when he moved; his joints expressed their displeasure. The pain would pass temporarily, at least, if he transformed, but he no longer found pleasure in the water. “Peace.”

  “Then perhaps you shall find it.”

  “What must I do?”

  Now, as he swam, he reached up and touched his hand to the sharp-edged dark stone around his neck. Better a noose than this horrible thing. He’d hesitated to take the rune stone when Aerin had held it out to him and explained that the last of Owyn’s relatives had died and there was no one else left to guard it. He’d only taken it when she’d told him the goddess wished it hidden away.

  “For what purpose must I hide it?” he’d asked.

  “Only the goddess knows the future, Treande,” she had said.

  As Taren swam, the tenor of his dream changed. He was near a sandy shore now—his destination? Was he to take the stone to this island? Old Aerin had said nothing about what he should do with it or how he might keep it safe. He transformed back into his human shape as he reached the shallow waters by a beach.

  Unlike before, when his body was thin, weakened with age, he was once again young. He walked naked along the beach. The smell of flowers filled the air and the wind was gentle against his cheek.

  In the distance he saw a figure walking, as he was, along the line where the water met the sand. A man. Tall, dark-haired. Taren recognized the strong line of his shoulders even from so far away. He began to run. “Ian!” he yelled as he ran. “Ian!”

  TAREN AWOKE and, momentarily confused as to where he was, reached for the stone around his neck. He found nothing there but the necklace his mother had left him.

  When he’d arrived at Callaecia with Ian, his visions had been infrequent. Now they dogged him every day. A foreboding sign. First his parents, then the memory of the stone. Now the priestess and Ian.

  The old woman! The thought struck him with particular force. He’d thought Zea looked familiar. He was certain she was the same woman who had appeared to him on the beach near Callaecia, and twice before that. How long had it been since Taren had lived as Treande? More than eight hundred years, Vurin had said. “Treande led the survivors to Ea’nu and helped them build the first temples there.” What power she must have possessed to speak to him from beyond the veil of death.

  Not any greater than a power that allows you to experience the past as if it were unfolding before your eyes.

  And what of the dream of Ian? It had felt so real, as if Ian had sat there, watching the water, waiting for him. He thought of how he could sense Ian’s presence when they were apart, and wondered if somehow Ian had been there on that beach. Waiting for him. Worried for him.

  With this thought, Taren rubbed his eyes, inhaled slowly, then realized Brynn was watching him. “What are you looking at?”

  “You were talking in your sleep,” Brynn said with a frown. “Who’s Ian?”

  “Go back to sleep, boy.” Taren tensed his jaw.

  Brynn huffed softly but did as he was told. Taren closed his eyes and thought of Ian. He remembered sitting next to Ian on the beach and how the wind bound them together. His heart ached with longing to be with Ian once more.

  The sooner you find Odhrán, the sooner you can return to him.

  Eleven

  IAN SWAM back to the Phantom with a knot in his belly and a pain in his chest. He’d taken no joy in his transformation, found no relief from his anxious thoughts in the warm waters. He’d spent the better part of the past few hours swimming around Cera, hoping to find some trace of Taren. He’d found nothing. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t expected to find Taren on the island, just as he hadn’t expected to find him at the scene of the battle with the humans. As distant as Taren’s presence felt to him, he knew Taren was on another island.

  At least he knew Taren was alive; their otherworldly connection was still strong. He thanked the goddess that they were soulbound, so that he might sense Taren’s well-being. But as days passed and Taren did not return, he began to fear that Taren had been taken captive or, worse, that he’d been so injured he could not return to them. Ian had paced the decks, waiting for word from Barra and the men he’d sent into town dressed as merchants. Their primary task was to procure supplies for the Phantom and her crew, but they’d also been told to listen for news of Taren.

  “Fine time to abandon your crew,” Renda said as Ian climbed to the top of the rope ladder and boarded the ship. Ian bristled beneath his cutting glare. “The men have been asking after you since the ceremony to commend Crian to the goddess. What would you have me tell them?”

  Ian said nothing as he retrieved the clothing he’d left by the railing, then began to dress. The memory of the funeral ceremony the day before and the loss of a good man had left him feeling more adrift than he cared to admit. First Crian, whom he’d known since he was a young boy. Now Taren.

  No. Taren’s alive. There was hope, he’d told himself as he’d watched Renda commit Crian’s body to the afterlife. He felt the zest of Renda’s power, saw the cool blue light flicker from the tips of his bony fingers before touching the water and stirring it. Crian’s body was wrapped in thick kelp leaves and lacelike seaweed and adorned with a multitude of shells, each chosen with care by the Phantom’s crew. As it floated away from the Phantom and out of the harbor, it dipped beneath the surface and vanished. Ian knew Crian would continue his final journey until he reached the open ocean, where he would finally sink to the bottom and find his rest in the goddess’s arms. His heart ached for Crian’s loved ones. It was far too easy to imagine the immense loss he’d feel if Taren’s soul were to leave this world.

  “Captain?”

  “I heard you.” Ian came back to himself and tucked his shirt into his britches.

  “I know you’re worried about Taren, but—”

  “Don’t patronize me,” he snapped. “I know all too well what my duty is.” He glanced up at the shattered mizzen in disgust. “Tell Barra to gather the men at sunrise. We’ll need to repair the ship ourselves.”

  Renda nodded his approval. “Aye, Captain.”

  “Send word to Vurin. A messenger. Durat’s a strong swimmer. If he rides the eastern current, he might make Raice Harbor in a fortnight.” Ian turned, stormed down the stairs to his cabin, and slammed the door behind him before Renda could respond.

  Damn Renda to hell for being right.

  Ian closed his eyes and drew a long breath. None of this was Renda’s fault. None of it was anyone’s fault but his own. It was his responsibility to keep the Phantom and her crew safe. He should have realized the Council was keeping a close watch over him. They’d stranded Seria and his men. They’d stolen the Council’s fastest ship. He was a spy and a traitor to Ea’nu. The Council would want revenge.

  The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again was Taren’s jacket, still on the bed where Taren had tossed it days before. Ian hadn’t used the bed since they’d limped back to land and hidden their damaged vessel behind Renda’s enchantments. The only sleep Ian had gotten—if you could call it that—was a few minutes when he’d closed his eyes as his men boarded the launch, headed into Gate Town. He’d nearly gone himself; only Renda had made him see the impulsiveness of his actions.

  “It’s one thing to take to the water to look for him. It’s quite another to wander around in town. If the humans truly are in league with Seria and the Council,” Renda told him, “they’ll be looking for you. They’ll know the ship is here somewhere. And if they find you—”

  “I can’t stay here,” he said, cutting across Renda. “If Taren is injured… lost… I’d never forgive myself for waiting and doing nothing.” He spoke the truth. He grieved Crian’s death and blamed himself for the loss. He found it too easy t
o imagine himself grieving Taren’s death, too easy to imagine what Crian’s family might feel when they learned his fate.

  “You’re hardly doing nothing. You know he’s well—you sense his presence. But if the enemy knows you’re looking for him, you could risk the very thing you wish to protect. Your actions might reveal him.”

  Taren. Ian lifted Taren’s jacket from the bed and brought it to his lips. Taren’s scent lingered on the wool. Ian inhaled deeply and conjured the image of Taren smiling as he splashed about in the waves. Be safe. Come back to me. He didn’t know how he’d survive if Taren didn’t return.

  When had the walls around his heart crumbled?

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and breathed Taren’s essence in once again. The temptation to dive from the ship, transform, and look for Taren again was more than he could bear. But he wouldn’t leave again. He couldn’t. Thirty-nine—no, thirty-eight souls, now—depended upon him. His crew had left their families behind on Ea’nu and returned his ship to him. They’d risked their lives to mutiny. They’d given him their loyalty, and he owed them at least the same. He couldn’t leave them for one man, even the one man he’d willingly die for… again.

  Damn duty.

  The knock on the door to the cabin startled him back to himself. “Come.”

  “I was wrong to speak so harshly to you,” Renda said as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Ian shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You reminded me of my duty. My responsibility.”

  Renda sighed. “I don’t envy your lot.”

  “I chose this,” Ian said evenly.

  “He will return to you. But not because you hold his leash.” Renda shook his head and laughed. “Much as I know you might be tempted to put a collar on him. He’ll return to you because he loves you.”

  If the goddess wills it, Ian added silently.

  That night, for the first time since Taren left, Ian slept. In his hands, he clutched Taren’s jacket. He imagined Taren lay beside him as the warm breeze blew through the open aft windows. The familiar sensation of the ship rocking beneath him gave way to dreams.