Six big men held the writhing neck. Luthan had already started the cut.
Eeeeeew. No, no, no. Jikata skidded to a stop.
Luthan held out a hand, eyes blazing. You must do this. To be protected.
She was shaking her head.
Thinking too much, Calli said from beside her. Set a hand on Jikata’s lower back, urging her forward. Think of that skank Bobby.
Bobby!
She’d needed protection from him, hadn’t had anything but her wits to save her. And she wasn’t the first he’d preyed on, or the last. He’d destroyed dreams, shattered lives. He should pay.
Jikata stared into the dreeth’s eye. It hated. Hated her for no reason. Opened its beak.
Defensive bubbles layered around her, protecting her from the short, searing flame. The Shields, who’d kept her safe, including Calli, stumbled into others’ arms.
Jikata was endangering them!
She jumped the last few steps to Luthan, took the axe from him and went to work.
It was foul. Green blood spurted, brown sinews parted as she hacked.
Around her the battle ended and still she labored.
Luthan and Bastien stepped forward to cut the bone, and Jikata averted her head.
Then back to work and she was singing “Sixteen Tons,” pounding, didn’t know whether to be sick or laugh. Finally there was one last ropy blood vessel and she severed it and watched blood spurt and droplets fly and pump and pump and pulse and…die. She sank to her knees, axe dropping from her limp grasp.
This had been awful.
Luthan was at her back, lifting her by her elbows. He turned her, looked into her face, his expression stern, except his eyes, which held compassion. For her? Or for the hideous creature she had ended that had been bred to hate and kill?
This situation was no good for anyone. Anything.
The sooner they destroyed the Dark, the better. It warped everything it touched—monsters, Master of its horrors, humans, Amee, all.
A world out of balance. Amee was a place where evil had more sway than good.
Luthan held her and she liked his grasp. She shut her eyes and strove to listen to the land, where seeds lay, waiting for the evil to be gone so they could grow.
That was good. She opened her eyes as she heard someone approaching.
“The lines have been drawn on the dreeth, Jikata, you must make the cuts on the pieces you need. Then the others who helped kill it will get their share, good dreeth leather for all. We only lost part of one wing,” Bastien said cheerfully. He handed her a big knife that weighed in her hand.
Jikata stepped from Luthan’s arms and looked at the beast. There were dashed lines scored in the body. She straightened her shoulders and followed Calli as that woman told her where to cut.
This part seemed easier, as if some of the Power that vitalized the dreeth had been extinguished along with its life.
“So, um, Exotique Singer,” one of the Chevaliers addressed her, a female Shield dressed in Faucon’s colors.
“Ayes?”
The Chevalier ducked her head. “Ah, um, do you want the teeth? Or could I…”
Jikata gasped at the idea, forced down her gorge. Swallowed hard. Glanced at the wicked beak and the sharp teeth angled out from it. “No, I don’t want them.”
“She’s claiming the leg spines, though,” Marrec said, murmured in Jikata’s ear, “Equally valuable and I’ll sell them for you, get you a good price.”
“Merci,” she said politely. Obviously quite a few here on this battlefield had struggled for money—zhiv—as she had, no matter what their circumstances were now.
Jikata set her knife in the next piece of hide, gritted her teeth and cut. It took her around so she was facing toward where Raine was doing the same thing across the battlefield. Their eyes met.
I am never doing this again, Raine sent, and Jikata realized it was a communication between the two of them. They’d bonded enough for that, then. Probably in the last couple of hours.
Neither am I, Jikata replied. Once was too much.
Ditto. Raine grimaced and resumed carving.
Jikata did the same, trying to avoid the sight of other monsters being butchered…soulsuckers for their tentacles, slayers for their poisonous spines, renders for their claws and teeth. It made her angry to see their marks on her friends. A nearby Chevalier was being treated for slayer poison, Bastien had the imprint of a soulsucker tentacle cup on his face. The white scar on Alexa’s face stood out palely. So Jikata slashed at her dreeth.
When she moved around once again, she saw the third dreeth of the action. It was much less mangled, more neatly killed than the ones Jikata and Raine had ended. Professionals had done that, and were making the most of every inch of skin, every tooth and claw and spine.
Jikata was never so glad in her life to be an amateur.
Then Luthan’s hand folded over her own. “It’s done.”
She let him take the knife.
Luthan led her to Hope, who watched from the sidelines with rolling eyes and flaring nostrils. He didn’t like the smell, or the wild Songs of the humans, or the sight of raw monster meat.
Neither did she. Without protest, she let Luthan lift her to her saddle. Her mind was a whirl of images, actions of the last few hours. Most of them bad enough that she’d like to forget them forever, but she knew would haunt her nightmares.
Luthan placed his hand on her knee and the warmth of it, the pulse of his Song was so sweet everything inside her clenched.
“I have apologized, and before the Exotiques, do you want another one here, more publicly?”
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“Ttho.” But she met his eyes and scrutinized them. “You want to build anew, be lovers again.”
“Ayes,” he said.
She let out a breath. So much fate involved in this adventure of hers. He wouldn’t remain a friend, couldn’t the way their Songs twined around each other. She touched a small slice on his cheek, didn’t know what had caused it, and he didn’t, either—it didn’t pain him because of the adrenaline still surging in his blood.
She needed to say the words aloud, knew he needed to hear them that way. “I forgive you, Luthan. You can’t control your revulsion and didn’t mean to hurt me. And I apologize if I hurt you. I…care…for you.”
His hand pressed against hers. He said huskily, “Apology accepted. There’s some wonderful hot springs caverns on the way back. We can—”
“Sounds great!” Bastien clapped his brother on his shoulder. “Meet you there.” Then he sent over the “Exotique link”—We are going to Azure Caverns to soak!
The feycoocus gave piercing whistles and took off.
Luthan sighed. “Merci, brother.”
Bastien winked and strode away.
Bathing Caverns, North Lladrana
Luthan was demanding. Jikata used the sex to pour out all the battle stress, used him, let him use her.
Then came the tender loving. The Song of the two of them, as lovers, mended and grew until Jikata knew it would last a lifetime. And in the afterglow, she asked about the repulsion reflex and he spoke of it.
Noise that would drive a person mad.
She could believe it and she let some tears come, for him, for her, for every damn thing. More battle stress.
She left Luthan sleeping, unusual for him after sex, but the last few days and the battle had been rough on him. He’d seen visions of this particular battle, too, that she hadn’t experienced. Because he was more in tune with the monster invasions that had always been a part of his life?
She wanted to speak with Raine. The woman’s Song had gone from triumphant back to plaintive. The note of fear that had vanished for a while had returned.
They had gone to the same battlefield and killed a dreeth, a bonding experience if there ever was one.
Jikata strolled to the large, steaming pool in the cavern where Raine was soaking alone. Faucon was up attending to the volarans, Calli and Marrec had left, and the
others were still in their private hot tubs.
Raine waved, and Jikata took a seat on a rocky ledge next to her. The water came just above Raine’s breasts like a straight-cut décolletage gown. Jikata was shorter by a few inches and the sensual slide of the water lapped against her shoulders.
When Raine looked at her with sad and vulnerable and anxious eyes, Jikata felt ages older than the woman.
Raine’s voice was low and husky. “Why aren’t you freaking out about this? The battle. You know you’re going to have to Sing in the Dark’s Nest, be the anchor for the rest of us. That’s your task, a life-or-death thing, no choice about it. No choice and no Snap until you’re done.”
Jikata said, “You said, ‘until’ so you think that it can be done, that I’ll survive.”
Shifting her gaze to stare across the large pool, Raine said, “You are Jikata and your confidence is…remarkable.” She sighed out a breath. “Ayes, if anyone survives it will be you.” Her forehead furrowed. “I…hear an extra depth to your Song. A better connection to Amee herself, maybe.”
That surprised Jikata. “Maybe so. I’ve seen her several times. Much like the figurehead you made for The Echo.”
“I think I got that image from Luthan and you. It didn’t come until you joined the circle, near the end.” She sent Jikata a sideways glance, opened her mouth, closed it, blinked. “You see visions. The future. I won’t ask. I’m afraid to.”
“Good, because our futures are still undetermined. May be in flux until the very last moment when we succeed or we fail.”
“How can you stand it!”
“The uncertainty? The thought of death? I have moments.” She shook her head. “I just spent some time crying.”
“Me, too, but you’re still more sure than I am.”
Jikata considered it. “Perhaps it was my upbringing. Perhaps because my parents died when I was a teen and I formed my philosophy of death at that time. Perhaps because I recently lost the last of my family.”
Raine inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We weren’t as close as I’d thought, hoped.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Jikata said softly, “What are you really afraid of, Raine?”
Mouth twisting, Raine didn’t look at her and said, “Big scary Dark. Monsters. Death. A painful death. I’ve never lost anyone I loved that I can recall. I guess I haven’t developed a philosophy for it. Failing to stop the Dark, hurting my family. I want to live.” Her chin set. “I want to live and build boats and love Faucon.”
“Children?”
“Ayes.” Raine’s eyes flashed. “I know it’s rare for Exotiques to have children, but yeah. After what we’ve done—will do—we deserve children. Amee owes us that.”
Jikata found herself chuckling. “Amee owes?”
Raine leaned back, lifted her feet from the pool and wiggled her toes. “If I’d made that Ship in Connecticut, I’d’ve charged a pretty damn penny.” She sank back. “As it was, except for the Power spheres, which we raised from the deep sea, everyone kicked in zhiv for the materials. Amee didn’t pay for it.”
“No? What about gracing us with our Power, with the Power to build it?”
“Not enough,” Raine said decisively, lips firming. “After all we’ve gone through, we haven’t been paid enough.” She looked at Jikata. “We all have nightmares. Every one of us. Each of us have given, will give, our lives to free Amee from the Dark. We should get a good return on that. That sounds mercenary, but none of us asked for the Summoning, or this life.”
“True love,” Jikata murmured.
Raine’s eyes went back to being hurt. “Ayes, that makes up for a lot. But we live with knowledge that our loves may die. That we may die. That factors into the cost. Physical, emotional, mental, Power, all are affected and are what we are paying to do this thing for Amee.”
“Like last night, you have a point.”
“And you listen.” Raine brooded. “Maybe I’m just mercenary. Maybe it’s that I don’t have a philosophy of death or dying and fear the uncertainty of the battle and the future.”
“Once you were in the battle for your dreeth skins, you lost that uncertainty,” Jikata said.
“Yes. I’m hoping that will happen again when the time comes.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Alexa has a fierce spirit, and determination and knows what she’s—we’re—doing is right. So she thinks of that, will think of that. She’s linked to Bastien and the Marshalls, a team, who all believe like her, and are connected to the rest of us. Excellent support. Marian is sure that her Power and that of the Circlets, their combined intellect and flexibility is better than the Dark’s. So she has that…intellectual confidence, arrogance. Calli…is Calli. She’s loved by all the volarans of Lladrana, connected to all of them. She thinks of better lives for her children, for the rest of Lladrana, and knows she will do her best and that’s all she can do. Bri is naturally optimistic, and thinks death is just another adventure. She has that link to all the common folk of Lladrana, her healingstream, faith, I guess, in people and us and the Song as the All.”
Jikata was stunned at Raine’s reading of their friends, then Raine turned her eyes on Jikata. “And you have that bond with Amee herself, and the Song, and your belief in your destiny?”
“Yes.” Jikata shook her head at Raine’s insight. “Ayes, and the payoff that I can become the most Powerful person in Lladrana. True love. Composing. Endless fame.” Then she turned her head and stared into Raine’s eyes. “What do you have, Raine?” She lowered her voice so it could mesmerize.
That didn’t work on Raine. “True love. I love Faucon, more than I thought I’d love any man. My connection is to the sea, the ocean.” She laid her hand flat on the pool. “Even here, I can feel the tug of the tide, how there’s an underground river that feeds this and water runs wild to the ocean.”
“The Seamasters?” Jikata asked.
Raine shook her head. “Despite the Apology Ritual, and…uh…bonding with individuals, we still aren’t comfortable with each other. It takes a while to be accepted into the whole community.” She frowned. “I guess I think that what I have now is more than what I’ll have after the battle. What I have now is wonderful, I can only lose.” Again she stared off into the distance. “My man, my friends, my family, my life. I don’t want to lose any of that.”
Before Jikata could think of a reply, they heard whoops and splashing as others jumped into the far end of the large pool and swam toward them.
Creusse Landing
The sailing trials continued until the best crew was chosen. The stores were packed and a launch date set. The summer days took on a hint of autumn coolness and the hours passed until it was the last brilliant summer day before the invasion fleet left.
Luthan kept tallies on the life-and-death percentages of his friends. With the hard work they and Jikata were putting in, the odds against them were lowering.
Almost to acceptable levels.
Since the dreeth battle, he’d actually had a few visions where they all survived.
He’d shared some visions with Jikata that they never spoke of to others. He was grateful that her standard survival rate was now seventy-three percent and his was the same.
But he’d felt the desperation of Calli’s son grow. The boy had been adopted only a year before and still felt unsure of his place in the world. He was old enough and clever enough to do something foolish—like stowing away on the Ship. Luthan didn’t doubt that the boy would be found, but it would cause more emotional ructions and could possibly delay the invasion.
So he took the boy aside and revealed to the child that Calli and Marrec would live—and made him vow not to tell anyone in case that changed the future.
When the boy had flung himself into Luthan’s arms and wept, balance within Luthan had finally occurred. Or rather Luthan finally came to terms with his gift. He’d comforted a child, comforted himself and his woman with his foreknowledge. The events he’d guided—like
getting Bastien back to Alexa in the first place—had helped to minimize death and destruction. He’d helped his brother, his friends, himself. Whatever came, he had done his best, would use his gift as much as possible to do his best.
And Sing and pray. And love.
Then the sun dipped behind the horizon and it was night.
Faucon rose early on the day they were to sail, stood looking at a sleeping Raine, his heart so tight in his body he could barely breathe. The day at the caverns, he’d finished grooming the volarans and had walked down and heard the conversation between his lady and Jikata.
Raine was so much more fragile than he, than the others, thinking she had more to lose than to gain in this battle. The one the invasion weighed on the most. Not the weakest link of them all, he’d never believe that, but the most troubled.
So he left her with a kiss and walked to a place he rarely visited—the chapel to the Song. Here at Creusse Landing, it was tucked away in the corner of the short southeast wing. It was a small room, decorated richly, above the altar was a large stained-glass window of sky-blue that showed multicolored butterflies rising in a helix through the air—living musical notes, representing the Song itself.
He’d actually thought he’d be the solitary reverent, but the room was crowded. He went to the small front pew and knelt, looking at the altar with a large lyre upright upon it. Next to him was Corbeau’s wife, and Faucon sensed she was praying for the warriors and again his heart squeezed. The thoughts and prayers and Power of those remaining could be a great force for those who were going. He nodded to her and clasped his hands loosely on the rail before him, bowed his head.
He considered his life a celebration of the Song, the living of it a prayer, the moments he treasured also daily prayers, so he rarely felt the need to formally go to chapel. But he was here for Raine, to pray for solace for her, for the lessening of the weight on her, however that may come about.
He bowed his head and listened to the Songs of others, particularly those strong in faith whose Songs rose effortlessly to connect with the great Song that was the source of All. As he breathed with others, he let himself be suffused with music, sent his mind, his emotions, questing to link with his own personal Song that was part of the music of the spheres, contained in the great Song of All.
Echoes in the Dark Page 38