Belladonna e-2

by Anne Bishop

  “Greetings,” Michael said, wishing he’d thought to ask Yoshani if there was a particular greeting that was required or expected.

  The River Guardians all bowed slightly, the pads of their paw-hands pressed together chest high. They looked at him out of bright black eyes, and none of them so much as twitched a whisker.

  “I seek Belladonna,” he said.

  Whiskers twitched in response to those words. Then one of them—maybe the leader—took a step forward. “Dangerous journey to reach Island in the Mist.”

  “Where is this island?”

  They all turned and pointed.

  He looked at the falls and the spume of mist that rose up to the top of the river. Then he looked at the spume rising farther up the river—a spume that reached for the sky and obscured whatever lay behind it.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I do this to find Caitlin Marie. I do this to find Belladonna. I do this to understand a riddle. “If that is where I must go, then I will go.”

  The leader bobbed its head. “This way.”

  They crowded around him, herding him to a boat that was secured to a post-shaped piece of rock by a leather collar connected to a rope.

  Not much of a boat. Fine for rowing around a pond or small lake, but the thing didn’t look big enough or sturdy enough to test the strength of that river. Then he realized what else was missing besides size and sturdiness.

  “Where are the oars?”

  “No oars,” the leader said. “Magic boat. Won’t work with oars.” It pointed at the boat, then at Michael. “The heart is the sails, the will is the tiller.”

  “You expect me to steer that thing by wishing it where I want to go.”

  “The heart is the sails, the will is the tiller. When the river tests you, it does not hear mind wishes, only the heart.” The River Guardian stared at him. “If you are worthy of what you seek, you will find Island in the Mist. If you are not meant to find it, the boat will bring you back here. If your heart needs another place, you will find another landscape. But if your heart tries to deceive the river about why you seek, the river will take you.”

  I could die doing this, Michael thought as he stared at the boat. “Nothing is ever simple around here, is it?”

  “Ephemera is as simple as the heart,” the River Guardian replied. “Go or leave?”

  He was about to tell the River Guardian the words meant the same thing. Then he realized they didn’t, not the way the creature meant them. He could go to the island or leave this part of Sanctuary. What was unspoken between the two words was that if he left he would never find what he sought.

  “I’ll go.”

  Only one seat in the stern. Guess these things aren’t meant to hold more than one person, Michael thought as he gingerly stepped into the boat and settled himself in the center of the seat. He gave a moment’s thought to slipping off the travel pack and placing it in the bow of the boat, then decided against it. Except for his whistle, now wrapped in a clean square of cloth, the pack and everything in it was a loan from Sebastian or Teaser, and he didn’t need it bouncing out of the boat when he hit rough water. And he had no doubt there would be rough water.

  One of the River Guardians removed its robe and handed the garment to a companion before it slipped into the water next to the boat. Another River Guardian lifted the leather collar from the stone post and tossed it to the one in the water, who slipped the collar over its head.

  It swam against the current, pulling the boat to the center of the river. When they got to that point, the distant spume seemed to pull into itself, giving Michael a good view of what waited to test him.

  The river above him split, divided by a large spar of land. The falls he’d seen had been awesome enough, but these…

  Walls of water. A huge half circle of white thunder falling to the river with nothing to break its long descent. Churning water and wild currents filled the bowl formed by those falls. And the spume of mist that rose from the center of that wild water marked the spot that held the prize—if he could survive the river long enough to reach it.

  Suddenly the collar and rope were tossed into the boat and he was adrift, alone, with the currents tugging at the boat, pushing him back down the river, away from the place he needed to go.

  The heart is the sails, the will is the tiller, Michael thought. I seek the Island in the Mist.

  Against all logic and reason, the small boat began moving against the current. On either side of the river, he caught glimpses of buildings shaped from the native stone, blending in so well it was hard to tell where the intentionally created began and the naturally created ended. He wished someone else could steer the boat so he’d be free to just look at the world around him. But every time his attention strayed for more than a few seconds, the boat floundered.

  Well, he’d just keep his mind on his business. When he reached the island, he’d be able to stand on the shore and look his fill at the falls and the river.

  Except he couldn’t see an island, and he was now close enough to the walls of water that the currents were vicious.

  What do you seek? It might have been a thousand voices whispering the question—or only one.

  “I seek the Island in the Mist.” It seemed right to say the words aloud, to give them the weight of his voice.

  Why do you seek?

  “Heart’s hope lies within Belladonna. I seek Belladonna. I seek her help in fighting the Destroy—”

  Insanity or rage. It didn’t matter. The river turned against him. It flung the boat out of the water, sending it smashing back down into savage currents that were intent on killing him.

  What do you seek?

  “I seek—” Why was this happening? He was being honest about what he sought!

  A wave crashed against the boat, almost knocking him into the river. He flung himself to his knees, grabbing the side of the boat with one hand while the other fumbled to slip the leather collar over his arm to give him that much connection to the boat.

  What did he seek? Caitlin Marie. The answer to a riddle. Help defeating the Destroyer of Light before it consumed the parts of the world he knew.

  The currents changed, knocking him this way and that.

  What do you seek?

  Like a series of pictures, the world changed around him. For a moment, he was surrounded by fog, and he could hear the voices of doomed men forever lost. A moment later, he was gliding over a mist-filled lake toward an island he could barely see—and didn’t want. A moment after that, he saw a rib cage partially buried under rust-colored sand. Then the currents, the river, and walls of water.

  “I seek Belladonna!” he screamed.

  Why do you seek?

  Going under. Going under. No chance of surviving.

  And in that moment, as he surrendered to fate, he felt the warmth of her as she leaned against him, as he wrapped his arms around her in dreams. Almost home. Almost…

  My heart’s hope lies with Belladonna.

  Yes, the river whispered. Yes.

  Glorianna leaned against the wall next to her garden’s gate, catching her breath and her balance.

  A heart wish that was full of joy and yet bittersweet. Separation and homecoming.

  Right here. On her island.

  She recognized the resonance of that heart. It had struggled to free itself from the Eater of the World, had almost pulled the Eater into her landscapes.

  Now that heart was here on her island—and Ephemera was responding like a pet whose best friend had returned home after a long journey. Responding like that to another heart here, on her island. The world didn’t respond that way to Lee or Nadia when they came to visit. Didn’t respond to anyone that way. Not here.

  Until now, something inside her whispered.

  Then she saw him coming up the path from the little harbor. He looked scruffy, despite clothes that appeared to be fairly new. And clearly the river had given him a hard ride, which meant he had tried to hide his true purpose in com
ing to the island. That was reason enough to be wary of him, even if he hadn’t come into her landscapes in such an unusual way.

  He stopped and looked around, his smile as warm as spring sunbeams after a long winter as he took in the grounds that were carefully balanced between created flower beds and the natural flow of the land. As he turned toward her two-story house, she stepped away from the garden. She didn’t want him in her house until she’d taken a better measure of the man.

  Catching the movement, he turned toward her. Moved toward her.

  Another jolt of recognition when he got close enough for her to get a good look at his face. Here was the moonlight lover from the painting Sebastian had made for her. But that man had been a fantasy that was…

  …as real as a dream, a wish, a desire.

  A yearning washed through her. It flowed into Ephemera’s currents before she could stop it or deny its importance.

  But it didn’t go beyond the island. Didn’t have to in order to find fulfillment.

  More than wariness jangled inside her now. She wasn’t sure she could—or should—trust the man coming toward her. But she knew with absolute certainty that, where he was concerned, she couldn’t trust herself.

  He smiled at her and raised his hands as if to prove he held no weapons.

  No weapons? Ha! She’d wager he had toppled a good many women’s defenses by wielding that oh-so-charming smile. And did he think she didn’t notice his eyes doing that quick, assessing sweep men always did when they saw a woman whose body appealed to them and got them wondering if…

  Guardians and Guides. Heat flooded her face when she remembered she was dressed in her grubbiest gardening clothes—and had been working in her garden all morning, so she certainly wasn’t looking her best.

  Which meant the look of appreciation in his eyes was nothing but a deceit.

  You said once that the only man worthy of being loved was one who saw you in your gardening clothes and still thought you looked beautiful, her romantic side murmured.

  Shut up, she told her romantic side. “What are you looking at?” she growled at him.

  His smiled warmed. That son of a succubus was amused by her!

  “More than an image that haunts my dreams,” he replied, his voice flowing over her like warm, silky water. “A woman. A beautiful, real woman.”

  And because her stupid heart actually went pitty-pat in response to the words, she whipped her temper awake.

  “Wasn’t sure that bit of a boat would make it,” he said, still giving her that charming smile.

  “You’ll have to be tested,” she said, putting an edge in her voice to warn him she wasn’t the least bit charmed.

  “Already was.”

  When she didn’t respond, his smile faltered. Good.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Glorianna.”

  He looked puzzled. And a trifle disappointed? But he rallied fast enough and polished up the smile.

  “It’s obvious you passed the river’s test since you’re here,” she said. “But there is another test.”

  Now the charming smile gave way completely to frustration and a hint of ripening anger. Which only stoked her own temper since being mad at him seemed the safest thing to do until she could get him off her island. Not the fairest thing, true, but the safest. Besides, she needed to see the results of this test.

  He slapped his hands against his legs. “Another test? Don’t you people do anything for fun?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “We give strangers tests and then laugh at them while they make fools of themselves.”

  The frustration vanished as quickly as it had come. He grinned at her as if he’d figured out the answer to a puzzle. “You’re just snappy because you got caught out wearing your old clothes.”

  A mortifying assessment of her temper. Especially because it was partially true.

  “Since this is my island, what I wear is no one’s business but my own. And I am not snappy!”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Oh, but you are. Which is a fine thing because the temper brightens your eyes and puts color in your cheeks. Makes you even more beautiful.”

  He was taller than her and heavier than her, but at that moment, riding on temper and embarrassment, she was pretty sure she could pick him up, haul him down to the shore, and toss him into the river. “Take the test or go back to the river. With or without the boat.”

  He gave her his most woeful wounded-male look.

  She just stared at him.

  “Got a brother, don’t you?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

  “I do.” And Lee had perfected that woeful look by practicing on her until she had perfected the Stare.

  “Thought so.” He sighed. “All right, then. Let’s get this test done before you have time to think up another.”

  He followed her to the spot she called the playground. Then he scratched his head and pursed his lips as he looked at a calf-high wooden box that was about the size of a marriage bed and was filled with sand. Another box, about half that length, was attached to it and held a wooden bench and gravel.

  “It’s a sandbox,” he finally said. “Darling, if you’re wanting me to build you sand castles, I’m going to need some water along with the sand.”

  “You won’t need anything that’s not already with you,” Glorianna said. “Leave the pack on the ground out here. You’ll want no distractions.”

  He shrugged off the pack and set it on the ground, then looked at her, clearly waiting for more explanation.

  She pointed to the gravel. “You can sit on the bench or stand on the gravel. But don’t step into the part with the sand, or you might never find your way back.”

  She saw a flash of alarm in his eyes and watched his face pale. And wondered what kind of landscapes he’d already seen.

  “Heart’s hope lies within Belladonna,” he said. No charm now. Not even any confidence. Just a vulnerable truth that she could feel resonating inside her like a pure note when he added, “My heart’s hope lies with Belladonna.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, her voice rough from trying to control her own tangle of emotions as she silently acknowledged the difference in those two phrases. “It depends on the test.”

  He hesitated a moment longer, then stepped into the wooden box holding the gravel.

  “Don’t leave this space until I return for you,” she said. Ephemera, hear me. Show me the landscapes of this heart.

  She walked away, ignoring his “Now just a minute here!” protest. She kept moving away until he turned his attention to the sand. Then she doubled back to quietly come up behind him.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, lightly kicking at the gravel. “Play tricks on a stranger just because he doesn’t know much about…Lady’s mercy!”

  Fist-sized stones—many with jagged edges—filled the box that had held sand. A moment later, half the stones sank beneath a foul-smelling bog.

  “Just a trick,” he whispered. “Can’t be real. I can’t be doing this. Land doesn’t change this fast. Not this fast.”

  Yes, it can, Glorianna thought. Under the right—or wrong—circumstances, it can.

  The far corner of the sandbox disappeared under a heavy fog.

  Dark landscapes, she thought, feeling a chill go through her. Was there nothing inside him but dark landscapes?

  “Lady of Light, have mercy on me,” he said, sinking to his knees. Then he cocked his head, as if hearing something. His eyes widened in shock, swiftly replaced by wonder. “The wild child.”

  The words resonated through the currents of power, leaving Glorianna breathless. It wasn’t the way she would have described Ephemera, but it felt exactly right.

  “Come on, now. Come on,” he said, his voice cajoling. “You know me. You listen to me when I play tunes in the pubs, when I’ve given people a reason to sing and laugh and put aside their troubles for a while. And I’ve played tunes for you, when I’m on the road and it’s just the two of us. I’m a lo
ng ways from home, and maybe you don’t know me because of it, but…”

  Stone rose out of the bog in front of him. Not fist-sized rocks, but a hefty piece of granite that had veins of quartz glinting in the sunlight.

  “Well,” he said after a brief hesitation, “that’s a good stone.”

  A patch of grass covered the area in front of the stone, and the bog under it turned to earth that smelled like fertile ground after a soft rain.

  He laughed, sounding relieved. “Yes! That’s the way of it.”

  A small heart’s hope plant grew in front of the quartz-veined rock.

  Hold, Glorianna commanded as she moved around the box to where he could see her.

  He stood slowly. She kept her eyes on the box that now reflected some of the landscapes of his heart. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know they held vulnerability and wariness.

  A good heart shadowed by doubts. A hard life when he deserved something better. A balance of Dark and Light.

  But the test didn’t answer one question: What was he?

  “Anger makes stone,” she said quietly, pointing to the fist-sized, jagged-edged stones. Then she pointed to the granite. “And strength makes stone. Doubt and fear are bogs in the heart. Fog can come from many things, but despair makes the deserts—and hope the oases.” Now she looked into his blue-gray eyes. “You don’t understand the meaning of what you see, but you know the world listens to you, that you can make things happen. Don’t you?”

  He looked reluctant to admit to anything, but he nodded.

  “What do they call you?” she asked.

  “My name is Michael.”

  She shook her head slowly. “What do they call you?”

  A stronger reluctance. She watched his throat muscles work as he swallowed. “Luck-bringer. Ill-wisher.” He paused, then added, “Magician.”

  He said the word as if it had been the bane of his life.

  And it has been, she realized. Just as being declared rogue has been the bane of my life.

  She studied him a little longer. Then she smiled. “Welcome to the Island in the Mist, Magician.”

  There was real warmth in her smile, honest welcome in her words. And the music of her heart…Bright notes entwined with dark tones, forming a song that held the promise of everything he had searched for, waited for, wanted with all his heart. Love and happiness and home all held within a body he hoped to be kissing by the end of the day—and to keep on kissing for the rest of his life.