Into the Wind

by Anthony, Shira

  Ian walked along a deserted beach. The sand felt warm beneath his feet. Flowering vines scented the air as the breeze caressed his face.

  “Ian.” Taren’s voice sounded like a whisper from afar, but when Ian turned to look, he saw Taren running toward him, barefoot in the sand.

  Ian didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms and sighed as Taren accepted his embrace. “I’ve missed you… feared for you,” Ian said in a whisper. He pulled Taren’s head against his own, felt the silk of his hair between his fingers, and let his eyes drift closed so that he might better appreciate the weight of Taren’s body against his and Taren’s enticing scent. What did it matter if this was just a dream? Taren felt real.

  “You needn’t fear for me.” Taren pulled away and clasped Ian’s face in his hands. “I’m safe. I promise I’ll return to you soon.”

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear it.” Taren kissed him, then took his hand and motioned him to sit before joining him on the warm sand.

  The breeze from the ocean surrounded and enveloped them. Ian imagined Taren’s fingers ghosting over his skin, caressing him, reassuring him. “The wind,” Ian said, overcome by his emotions, unafraid to speak them here, in the safety of his dream. “It reminds me of you. Every time I feel it on my skin, it’s as though you’re here. Touching me. Binding me to you.”

  Taren smiled. Another gust—warmer this time—wrapped itself around Ian. Like gentle vibrations, a thousand tiny kisses, the wind shimmered over Ian’s body. A lover’s touch. Welcoming, familiar.

  “Come back to me,” Ian said again. “Do what you must, but don’t you dare leave me!”

  Ian woke to the feel of the breeze from the open windows. Taren. Be safe. And know that you hold my heart in your own.

  Twelve

  “DON’T MOVE,” a deep voice commanded. “Hands over your head.”

  Taren felt the sharp point of a weapon against the skin of his back. He’d found a waterfall not far from where he and Brynn had slept and had been bathing. He hadn’t heard the newcomer approach over the sound of the water. Taren wasn’t concerned. He figured Odhrán’s men would find them—he’d counted on it, especially after Brynn’s admission that he didn’t know the way to Odhrán. And although he knew Ian would think it imprudent of him to seek the pirate out without arming himself, Taren believed Odhrán would be more inclined to listen if he did not feel threatened.

  Taren lifted his hands and asked, “Who are you?”

  Before the man could answer, two men appeared from behind a rocky outcropping, one of them dragging Brynn by the scruff of his neck.

  “Samuel! Tell this”—Brynn tried to kick his captor in the shin, but his leg was too short to do much harm—“beast who I am!”

  Samuel just laughed, his sword still touching Taren’s back. “Little runt. Odhrán told you he’d find you if he needed you. You can explain to him yourself why you brought a stranger to his door.” Samuel nodded to the third man, who pulled out a length of rope and proceeded to bind Taren’s hands, then Brynn’s.

  “Wait! I told you! I was trying to help. Odhrán will be angry with you if you don’t—”

  Brynn kicked and squirmed until Samuel said, “Gag him.” The hint of a smile played on his lips.

  “May I put my trousers on?” Taren calmly asked. Not that he was particularly embarrassed to be presented naked to Odhrán, but he’d be more comfortable if the white skin of his ass didn’t burn in the hot sun.

  “Help him, Ralph,” Samuel told the man who was not occupied with the squirming Brynn.

  A few minutes later, Odhrán’s men led a blindfolded and gagged Taren and Brynn away from the waterfall. From the feel of the sun on Taren’s face and the retreating sound of the surf, he guessed they were headed toward the center of the small island, where he’d spotted several large rocky outcroppings. He suspected the entrance to the caves where Odhrán and his men hid might be there.

  The men walked them for nearly an hour, around and around until Taren was no longer sure where they were. Finally, Taren heard a scraping sound and the rustling of leaves, and he guessed that the men were uncovering the entrance to a cave. From there, they descended what felt to Taren’s feet like carved stairs. The air grew cool around them and the stone was at times slippery from water. Though Taren’s feet were cut and swollen from the climb up the cliff with Brynn the day before, Taren was thankful he was barefoot. The wet rock was much like the slippery wooden decks of the ships on which he’d served, and he was far more agile without the smooth leather soles of his boots.

  The stairs ended, though the rough-hewn feel of the stone under his feet was the same. A passage, Taren guessed, also carved out of the rock. How long would it have taken to carve the stairs and the tunnel? Years, perhaps longer. After a few more minutes, they stopped. Taren immediately noticed the change in temperature and the feel of the air itself—warmer and less damp than the tunnel or stairs.

  Someone pulled Taren’s blindfold off. For a minute, maybe two, he could see nothing as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then, slowly, the reality of what he was seeing became clear: they were standing in an enormous cavern, easily several hundred feet high and several times longer than any ship he’d ever seen. Nearly as big as the entire island town he’d stumbled upon two days before. And “town” was an appropriate choice of words, for Taren realized with surprise that small wooden huts dotted every ledge above them. Taren marveled to see dozens of huts that seemed to have sprouted from the cavern floor as well. A rough mixture of wood and stone, they nonetheless appeared sturdy and well cared for.

  More surprising still was that in spite of the darkness, Taren could see the houses quite clearly in the strange light emanating from the stone walls and ceiling of the cave. The light radiated from the rock itself, not from torches or lamps. When he looked closer, Taren realized the light was comprised of hundreds, perhaps thousands of tiny crystals embedded in the rock. The effect was stunning, the light warm, much like the sun.

  How long had this settlement been hidden here? How powerful must Odhrán’s hold on these people be that they’d not shared this secret with the outside world? Now more than ever, Taren wondered if some of the stories about Odhrán were true.

  The smell of meat cooking over a fire wafted through the enormous cavern, causing Taren’s empty belly to protest. Brynn stumbled over a small hole underfoot, then coughed several times as he righted himself. For the first time, Taren noticed how pale he appeared. Weak, as well. Not surprising, given that they hadn’t eaten since the night before, and then it had been too little to sustain a growing boy.

  “In here.” Samuel pointed them toward a small room carved out of the rock.

  The other men removed their gags, then shoved them inside. There was no place to sit but the damp floor. Brynn teetered, then nearly fell as he tried to sit. “He needs food and water,” Taren protested. “He’s weak.”

  “I’d be more worried about your own skin than this brat’s,” Ralph snarled as he unbound their wrists.

  Taren stretched his aching arms as the men filed out of the room. A moment later Ralph closed and locked an iron gate that fit tightly at the opening to the room. An underground prison made of stone and steel.

  Brynn shivered, looking paler still. “Rest,” Taren told him. “I’ll wake you when they return.”

  Brynn simply nodded, then curled up on the floor and shivered once again.

  Taren had no shirt to offer for a blanket this time. He sat down next to Brynn. “Can I put my arms around you to warm you?” he asked.

  Brynn shook his head and whispered, “’M fine.”

  Taren huffed in frustration. “It’s not weakness to accept help when you need it.”

  “Don’t need your help.”

  “Suit yourself,” Taren said with a shake of his head. He leaned back against the hard stone of the cave wall and drew a long breath. He shouldn’t have allowed Brynn to take him as far as the island; he should have paid him to tell him where
to go, knowing Odhrán’s men would have found him. Unable to sleep, he watched the shudders that racked Brynn’s body subside as he fell into a restless sleep.

  We’re in your hands, Taren told the goddess. Please keep us safe.

  THE WALLS of the cell seemed to close around him as he watched, powerless to stop their advance. Cold. So cold…. He stood and ran his hands over the damp surface of the stones, trying to find a weakness. Seria—he couldn’t let Seria touch him again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it this time. He’d already told them everything he knew—he’d betrayed his crewmembers, betrayed Rider and Bastian. What more did they want from him?

  The guard who unlocked the door sniggered to see him cowering in the corner, shivering, frightened. Terrified of what he knew would soon come.

  Ian will find me. He’ll take me from here… keep me safe.

  But Ian didn’t come. The guard dragged him over the rough stone floor, bloodying his knees. The pain was nothing compared to what he knew awaited him….

  Taren woke with a start, fear lingering like fog after the sunrise. This isn’t the Ea prison. They’re human. No Seria. No Ea. Humans—capable of inflicting pain, but he could withstand that sort of pain. The reminder of his torture at Seria’s hands faded, and his frenetic heartbeat slowed along with his breathing.

  He’d meant to stay awake and alert. When had he fallen asleep?

  Brynn slept curled up against him, his head on Taren’s thigh. Not far from where they lay was a metal tray with two cups of water, bread, and cheese. “Wake up, boy,” he said with a shake of Brynn’s shoulder. “Dinner has arrived.”

  Brynn’s eyes fluttered open and he pulled away from Taren so abruptly Taren could only blink in surprise. Brynn struggled to sitting and nearly toppled over with the effort. When Taren reached out to help him, Brynn moved out of his reach. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  Taren resolved to be a bit more careful with Brynn. It was almost as if he feared Taren’s touch. Taren retrieved the tray, then set it between himself and Brynn. “You’re hardly fine. Here.” He handed Brynn a bit of the bread he’d dipped in the water. “Eat.”

  Brynn glared at him, coughed a few times, but took the bread without protest. He needed far more than bread and water. He looked ill. Feverish. The cold dampness of the caves had probably made things worse. He’d seemed fine the day before, but now….

  Damn! He couldn’t stay here forever. He needed to speak to Odhrán, and soon. Maybe he could convince him to let Brynn go. “I must see Odhrán!” he said as he stood up and walked over to the bars. His heart pounded in his chest and he clenched his jaw.

  It didn’t take long to rouse the guard posted at the door from his nap. He glared back at Taren. “What is it ye want?” he demanded, clearly angered to have been woken.

  “I must see Odhrán,” Taren repeated as he paced in front of the bars.

  The guard laughed and turned to reclaim his spot a few feet away.

  “I have something he wants.”

  The guard laughed again.

  “Something valuable. A silver dagger.” Bluster, since Taren really wasn’t sure where he’d lost it, but the guard didn’t need to know that. Let them think I’ve hidden it.

  “He don’t want no dagger,” the guard said with a shake of his head. “He’s got plenty of ’em. Swords too.”

  “This one’s different.” He’d have to risk saying more. But if Vurin was correct and Odhrán knew something about the stone…. “Tell him it’s Ea. Priceless.”

  The guard frowned and eyed Taren with suspicion, then headed down one of the passages nearby.

  Taren sat back down by Brynn, who had curled up once more on the cold stone floor. “You need to eat more, boy,” Taren said as he pulled the tray closer.

  Brynn stirred. “Not hungry,” he mumbled.

  “You need to eat. You look terrible.”

  Brynn glared at Taren.

  “Here.” Taren handed Brynn a small piece of cheese. “Eat it slowly.”

  Brynn took the cheese, seemed to consider it for a moment, then put it in his mouth.

  “Are you ill?” Taren asked.

  “’M fine. And you’re not my mother.”

  At least Brynn still had some fire in him. Taren figured that was a good sign.

  A half hour later, having eaten most of the cheese and a good portion of the bread, Brynn looked far better. Taren finished the rest of the food, made sure Brynn drank some water, and then got back to his feet and began to pace the width of the cell.

  After an hour or so had passed, Taren heard voices from the tunnel where the first guard had disappeared. “Captain!” the second guard barked as he stood at attention.

  “No need to be gettin’ so excited, John,” said a deep voice that Taren now saw belonged to a bear of a man. Dark-haired and bearded, he stood nearly a head taller than all the other men. Odhrán, Taren guessed, judging by the guard’s response. Human. But why would a human be the keeper of the stone? Had the old woman tried to mislead him, or had he simply not understood her words?

  Odhrán peered into the cell and laughed. “Brynn,” he said, “I might have guessed ye’d lead someone ’ere.”

  “Captain Odhrán… sir.” Brynn’s voice quavered as he spoke. Taren guessed he feared the pirate. And for good reason. Odhrán could probably break Brynn in two if he wished. “I…. He said he doesn’t mean you harm. He said—”

  “If he said he was yer long-lost mother, pup, would ye believe that too?”

  “I said I wanted to meet you,” Taren told Odhrán. “I was sent here by Vurin.”

  “Vurin?” Odhrán laughed. “That old dog? And what does he want with me other than gold? He wants my gold. Nothin’ more.”

  “He says you may know something about the rune stone.”

  “What stone? Don’t know of no stone he wants except gold. I told him before I ain’t sharin’ no gold.”

  “I’ve got a dagger.” When Odhrán shot him a skeptical glare, Taren added, “I mean, I know where it is.” Odhrán’s expression softened a bit, as if he was considering Taren’s offer. Of course he’d be more interested in a weapon. “It’s very old. Silver.”

  “Hoping to buy yer freedom?” Odhrán narrowed his eyes into tiny slits.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “You’ve got as sharp a tongue on ye as the boy, don’t ye?” Odhrán laughed. “I’ve no interest in yer dagger. I’ve got plenty of silver. Don’t need no more.”

  “It’s valuable. Ancient. I dropped it in the water. Not far from where our ship fought the brigantine.”

  “Needle in a haystack,” Odhrán said with a grunt. “Not worth my time to do yer dirty work for a little bit of silver.” He shook his head and then turned to leave.

  “At least let Brynn go,” Taren said. “He’s ill. He’s—”

  “I’ll not kill ’im. Least not this time. I’ll let ’im go if the mood strikes me,” Odhrán said, his blunt features set in a scowl.

  “But the stone—”

  “No idea what yer talkin’ about.” He shook his head, then left before Taren could respond.

  TAREN AWOKE some time later, having dozed off to thoughts of Ian and the Phantom. Once again he’d dreamed of Ian, and once again the dream had felt real.

  The cell was still dark. From the regular pattern of the light, Taren guessed the crystals that lit the interior of the cave mimicked the sunlight outside and dimmed with the setting sun. Had they really been here in this cell for more than two days?

  Brynn slept fitfully by Taren’s side, his breaths now coming in raspy gasps. Taren had known boys like Brynn, fragile and easily sickened from the dampness of the dormitory at the inn. At least one of them had died. He needed to get Brynn out of here.

  He stood up and began to pace. He couldn’t remember ever being as restless. Even in the Ea prison, he’d never felt this way. The restlessness reminded him of Ian, whom he’d seen pace the decks just as he now paced the cell. Ian had often mentioned they sh
ared a special bond—a bond few Ea experienced. Soulbound, Ian had called it. Was it possible that his unease was Ian’s unease, communicated to him? Or was the island the cause of the strange thoughts he’d been having?

  Stop this. You’re overthinking things. You’re worried about Brynn.

  He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He needed to think. Figure out how to get them out of here. He studied the bars on their cell, looking for weaknesses where he might loosen the metal. If Odhrán was lying, Taren could come back for the stone with Ian and some of the men. As important as Vurin claimed the rune stone to be, Taren wouldn’t sacrifice Brynn’s life for it. Perhaps Renda could use his magic to infiltrate Odhrán’s stronghold. Or perhaps Vurin and the old woman had been mistaken and the pirate had never possessed the stone.

  “Get up!”

  Taren squinted, struggling to see the guard in the darkness. With his human eyes, he could only see the barest hint of movement beyond the cell.

  “Time to go,” the guard said as Taren got to his feet. “Back away from the door.”

  “Go? But what about Brynn?” Taren asked.

  “Where you’re going, the boy don’t need to follow,” the guard replied with a half-cocked grin.

  They mean to kill me. Taren glanced around to see if Brynn was still asleep. In the darkness, he could barely see the rise and fall of Brynn’s chest. Only his ragged breathing reassured him that he had not yet succumbed. If Odhrán left Brynn here much longer, Taren was sure he’d die. But if he tried to escape and take Brynn with him….

  The rattling of keys and the sound of metal rubbing against metal told Taren the guard was unlocking the door. This close, Taren could see the sword in the guard’s hand as he stepped across the threshold and shoved the keys into his belt. If there had been only one guard, Taren might have attempted to wrestle the weapon away, but a second guard stood watch outside the open doorway, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.