“I am able to transform into various shapes,” Odhrán said. His expression was unreadable; Ian saw neither pain nor pride in it. “In what you might call my Ea form, I can hear others’ thoughts, and they, mine.”
“What else?” Ian pressed, Odhrán having told him nothing more than Taren had already explained.
“I am what you might call a mage,” Odhrán said. “And in my Ea form, as you would call it, my powers are magnified.”
This, too, Ian had gleaned from Taren. “So your abilities are different from ours?” he pressed.
Again Odhrán smiled. “Come, come, Captain. You wouldn’t have me divulge all of my secrets, would you? Certainly you have a few of your own to keep.”
He knew there was more to Odhrán than he’d revealed, but he didn’t pursue the topic further. Much as he cared about what threat Odhrán might pose to his people, he had not come here only to assess Odhrán’s abilities. He’d come here for something far more important to him. He was pretty sure Odhrán knew this, as well.
“What do you want from Taren?”
“Ah,” Odhrán said with a look of sly satisfaction on his angelic features. “Shall we speak of your burning jealousy? Or shall we discuss your fear that I might somehow harm him?”
Ian fought to maintain his composure. Something about how Odhrán appeared to take this all so lightly stoked his simmering anger and coaxed it to surface. Ian knew what this was. His animal nature always warred with his intellect when it came to keeping Taren safe, and regardless of whether he believed Odhrán was a threat, the mere fact that Odhrán had the power to harm Taren was enough to stoke the embers of his fear.
“Will you not answer the question?” Ian demanded, knowing he sounded angry but no longer caring. He’d met other Ea who had raised his hackles as Odhrán did, though none quite so completely.
“I’d be happy to answer it.” Odhrán tilted his head to one side—a flirtatious gesture that only set Ian more on edge. “Yes, I want something from him. Or perhaps ‘wanted’ is a better way to put it. I have what I want.”
Ian clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe. He found Odhrán and the roundabout, lackadaisical way he responded to questions infuriating. “Tell me.”
“I have my freedom,” Odhrán said, his expression now deadly serious. “For more than seven hundred years, I have been tethered to these islands. I am no longer.”
“The rune stone. Of course.” Ian felt a muscle jump in his cheek as he spoke the words. “You’ve tethered that abominable thing to Taren.”
“Abominable? An interesting way to look at it. But you know I am not the one who tethered it to him. That happened long ago, in another lifetime.”
Ian laughed and shook his head. “How simple it is to blame a goddess you don’t even believe in. Or, better yet, someone who’s been dead for hundreds of years.”
“You really do love him, don’t you? Good. He will need your good counsel and your heart.”
Ian stood abruptly. He’d had about as much of Odhrán’s condescension as he could tolerate. “You will leave tomorrow,” he said, his voice hard. “You will not speak to Taren again.”
“At last we get to the crux of the matter. And it will do no good for me to say that I only desire his friendship, will it? Because you, like your human counterparts, think only of desire.”
“Will you leave, then?” Ian snapped.
Odhrán nodded, his placid expression unchanging despite Ian’s tone. “Of course, Captain. You have my word. I have no interest in the affairs of the Ea or their goddess. But should Taren choose to come to me, he will find a home with my people.”
“Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me, Captain,” Odhrán said. “By sending me away, you also send away the best hope of keeping your beloved safe from harm.”
“I’m perfectly capable of keeping him safe.” Ian tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut that told him Odhrán was probably correct about this. Odhrán, powerful as he was, would be a formidable enemy. But what use was a protector whom he didn’t trust? No, he would keep Taren safe. The goddess expected this of him alone.
“No doubt.” Odhrán smiled once more and inclined his head, signaling the end of their discussion.
Ian bowed stiffly, then turned and left the room. A half an hour later, he slipped back into his bed and gathered Taren in his embrace. He had done what needed to be done. And yet he knew he’d let his emotions get the better of him. He’d let Odhrán get the better of him. Because no matter what he told himself about his reasons for wanting Odhrán gone, he knew Odhrán had been right. As he finally fell asleep as the first light of dawn breached the darkness, Odhrán’s words lingered in his thoughts.
Twenty-Three
TAREN AWOKE rested the next morning. How long had it been since his sleep hadn’t been filled with dreams? He touched the rune stone around his neck to reassure himself that it was real. As always, it warmed to his touch.
Ian was still asleep when Taren dressed and went up on deck. Renda was supervising repairs of the mizzenmast. Several men struggled to hoist a large timber on one of the halyards. Taren leaned against a railing and watched. That was when he noticed the Chimera was gone. He frowned and walked over to Renda.
“Where’s the Chimera?” he demanded.
Renda raised an eyebrow. “How should I know? They set sail at dawn.” He smiled, pulled something from his pocket, then added, “He left you a note.”
“Thank you.” Taren took the note and read it quickly.
Taren,
We’ll meet again soon. Should you need me, I won’t be far.
-Odhrán
Taren was quite sure why Odhrán had left so quickly. Ian, when will you learn you have nothing to fear? He drew a long breath, then turned and headed down to their cabin.
IAN WAS washing his face in the bowl near the bed when the door to the cabin opened and closed. Taren. He couldn’t express his joy and profound relief to have Taren safely back at his side. Perhaps they’d swim for a bit after he’d checked on repairs to the ship.
He turned and smiled at Taren. “I can’t tell you how happy—”
“Odhrán’s gone.” Taren spoke the words in something like a growl. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.
“Aye.” Good riddance to him. “And what of it?” Ian picked up his shirt and drew it over his head.
“Tell me you weren’t the reason he left.” Taren’s frown deepened.
“He left of his own accord,” Ian replied evenly as he sat and pulled one of his boots on. He knew it wasn’t quite true, though he reasoned that if Odhrán hadn’t truly wanted to leave, it would have taken more than just a suggestion to make him do so.
“No doubt. But you went to see him, didn’t you?”
Ian narrowed his eyes and donned his other boot. “I don’t trust him,” he said without looking up. Couldn’t Taren see that Odhrán was dangerous, or at least that his motives in coming to Taren’s aid were suspect? If Odhrán was so powerful, how easy would it be to disguise his true nature to Taren?
“I’m not a child, Ian. You say I’m not a slave. You tell me to speak my mind. And yet you don’t trust me to make my own decisions.” Taren balled his fists and glared at him.
“Of course you’re no slave.” Certainly Taren understood this after everything they’d been through together. Perhaps Taren was a bit naïve, overly trusting. Ian had only meant to keep Taren safe. Where was the wrong in that? “I trust y—”
“If you trusted me,” Taren snapped, “you’d have spoken to me before you told him to go.”
Ian hadn’t expected the extent of Taren’s ire, or at least he hadn’t expected Taren to care as much about Odhrán. The thought irked him, and his jealousy grew. “You know nothing of his inclinations,” he heard himself say, even as he fought the urge to embrace Taren and reassure him. Nothing of how he used you!
Taren parted his lips and shook his head. “Inclinations? Is that what you believe of him
… of me? That I want him?” The black stone swung on its chain as Taren walked over to the windows, then turned back to face Ian.
The stone. Odhrán had wanted to rid himself of it. Or was there some greater plan he’d accomplished by relieving himself of the damnable thing? None of them, not even Vurin, understood what the stone was capable of. Ian remembered how Taren had fainted when he’d seen a painting of the stone on the portrait in Ian’s family home. If it had such a powerful effect on Taren then, what would possessing it do to Taren now? What if, rather than just guarding it, Taren used its power?
“No,” Ian said absentmindedly. “Of course not.” He saw the hurt and anger in Taren’s eyes and looked away. No, of course he trusted Taren. But he’d done the right thing by telling Odhrán to leave. He’d sworn to protect Taren, hadn’t he?
“Don’t lie to me, Ian.”
Ian swallowed back his retort. Leave it be. Nothing good can come of this. He hadn’t meant to anger Taren. He knew he should apologize, explain that he loved Taren and that he feared for him. But instead he heard himself say, “Odhrán used you.”
“He gave me the stone.” Taren’s expression was hard, unforgiving. He crossed his arms firmly over his chest and raised his chin in obvious defiance. The slight breeze from the open windows lifted a few errant hairs that had tumbled onto his face.
“Did you ever consider he might have had his reasons for giving it to you?” Ian asked, unable to contain himself. He wanted Taren to understand. “He doesn’t want to be tethered to it anymore. He gave it to you because it suited his purposes.”
“I don’t give a damn what his purposes were,” Taren nearly shouted. “Why should I care if he wished to be free of it? I promised Vurin I’d recover it. We promised Vurin we’d look for it. Together.”
Stop this. Tell him none of that matters. Tell him you love him. “Taren, I—”
“You don’t trust that my heart is yours alone. You treat me like a child.” Taren shook with anger as he said this.
“Please, Taren, let me—”
“If I’m to be your slave,” Taren continued, “then say so, and I will submit to your will. But if you wish more than a dog to kneel at your feet, treat me like the man you say I am.”
Ian once again tried to speak, but Taren turned on his heel and stormed out of the cabin. A sharp gust of wind caught the door and slammed it hard against the frame, causing one of the books on a nearby shelf to fall.
Ian shook his head and paced the cabin several times before heading up on deck. He saw Taren’s graceful dive from the bowsprit, saw him transform as his hands met the water and disappear beneath the waves. Taren.
He turned and headed aft, stalking down to where the men were working to replace some of the damaged lines. Renda looked up and held his gaze for a moment, then joined him near one of the rails. “You’re bound and determined to push him away, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“You know exactly what I just said,” Renda answered with a frown. “You’re so afraid of losing him that you’d push him away so you don’t have to suffer with your guilt.”
“My guilt?” What did Renda know about it?
“Your guilt.” Renda cocked his head to one side and his frown deepened. “The guilt you still feel after failing him on Ea’nu.”
“This isn’t about the prison,” Ian replied.
“Isn’t it?” Renda chuckled, and as he often did when he spoke his mind too plainly, Ian fought the urge to throttle him for it. “I don’t doubt you’re jealous of this mysterious pirate,” Renda added. “But you use that jealousy to push the boy away.” He glanced at the water where Taren had disappeared. “Seems you’re doing fine work of it too.”
Ian’s first instinct was to deny it, but he held his tongue and leaned on the rail. “Is it truly enough that he’s forgiven me?” He rubbed his jaw and gazed up at the foremast that still bore some of the scars of battle: a missing top castle and a cracked yard.
Renda shrugged. “He’s already moved on from that time. It’s you who still insists on reliving it. You see yourself in his stead and you remember the pain you carried with you for years after your imprisonment.” Renda laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “But he is not you, old friend.”
“I fear I’ll lose him.” Ian steeled himself against his fear as he said this. “Whether because he decides I’m unworthy of his affections, or the goddess wills it.”
“From what I know of him, I doubt he will ever find you unworthy.” When Ian tried to protest, Renda shook his head and chuckled as he said, “Goddess knows you’ve done what you could to push him away, and he’s stayed at your side.”
“He’s loyal to a fault.”
“Perhaps. But in spite of your sour demeanor”—Renda chuckled and squeezed Ian’s shoulder—“you are capable of inspiring loyalty. Worthy of it, though you may doubt your worth.”
Renda had avoided speaking of the goddess’s plan. Even if he was correct in his assessment of Taren’s heart, they both knew the goddess had separated him and Taren before.
“Perhaps your time with him is short,” Renda conceded as he turned back to watch the men continue their repairs. “All the more reason to stop your idiocy and show him your heart.”
“Do you have to put things in such a way that I must struggle not to toss you overboard?” Ian said. He would never do such a thing, but this had become a bit of a habit for them both, and Renda understood the affection behind his empty threat.
“Would you listen to me if I put it otherwise?” Renda countered with a smirk and a breezy wave of his hand.
Ian shook his head and headed back to his cabin. He’d spoken his piece. He’d give Taren time alone. Then he’d beg Taren’s forgiveness.
Twenty-Four
TAREN DOVE into the water, transforming as he broke the surface. He imagined the remains of his anger washing off him as he swam with all his strength away from the harbor.
Damn him! Would Ian not trust him? Taren hadn’t wanted any of this. How simple things had been aboard the Sea Witch. He knew he could never return to that life—that he would die without Ian by his side. How could Ian in one breath tell him he was free to make his own choices and the next treat him like a foolish child?
He wanted to shout at Ian that he’d seen Odhrán’s mind. That he understood him. Felt his pain. Knew his suffering. Felt his kind heart. But he knew what Odhrán had shared with him had been for him alone.
At last he settled onto the sea floor and drew his tail to his chest. The rune stone pressed painfully into his skin. He pushed the chain around so the stone fell upon his back, brushing the necklace his mother had left for him.
Mother… what would you think of me now? Would you think me weak?
He closed his eyes and fingered the stones and shells, exploring the ridges and peaks, picturing the pieces tossed on the waves and coming to rest on a beach. He imagined a villager in a faraway land stooping to rifle through the jetsam, recovering the most colorful bits and stringing them in necklaces to sell at a marketplace. Ian had said the workmanship was Ea. Did their brethren still inhabit the waters of the Eastern Lands?
He smiled at the memory of himself as a child. He gripped the necklace tighter and imagined the green of his mother’s eyes. Like Ian’s and so many of the other Ea’s, those eyes called to mind the ocean when the sunlight penetrated the surface. Taren had met only a few Ea with eyes like his. Vurin had once explained that millennia before, the priestly caste were the only Ea who had brown eyes, but that over time, the priests intermarried with the common folk and the color had nearly vanished with the temples.
He let the gentle current rock him until he fell asleep.
HE WOKE to the crashing sound of cannon blasts and the smell of fire. Smoke burned his eyes as he tried to shout, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a wail.
“Duri!” His father’s voice rose over the sound of shouts from above. We’re aboard a ship, thought Taren as he struggled to look around h
im. It was difficult to see because of the smoke, and the blankets blocked his view.
“Over here!” His mother lifted him from the basket and wrapped blankets around him.
“Is Taren…?”
“He’s fine. Aren’t you, little one?” She brushed his hair and tried to calm him, speaking softly to him until his cries abated.
“Take him and head for land,” his father said.
“What?” His mother’s eyes grew wide and her face paled. “But Vurin said we mustn’t transfor—”
“Vurin said to keep Taren safe at all costs.” Taren heard the desperation in his father’s voice. “There’s no hope of making it to the Gateways, let alone the Eastern Lands. The sails are on fire and one of the masts has been too badly damaged.”
There was another volley from the cannons and the ship shuddered. Goddess! Taren could only guess the island Ea were their attackers.
“Duri, you must leave now.” His father leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, then kissed his mother. “I’ll find you when I can. Take the gold with you. You may need it to keep yourselves safe.”
“I can’t—” his mother protested.
“You must. You know what the old woman said. We must protect him with our lives.”
“Larin, please. If we must go, let us go together. I couldn’t bear to lose you!” He saw his mother’s tear-streaked face and began to cry again. Her pain became his own, as if he was tethered to her heart. Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me.
“Love,” his father said, taking his mother’s face in his hands. “Duri. There’s less chance you’ll be seen if you leave without me. Besides, a captain cannot leave his ship in the midst of battle. If the goddess wishes it, we’ll be reunited.”
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