Wavebreaker

by A. J. Norfield

  Dalkeira was quiet for some time.

  “I believe I understand now, too,” she said finally. “And I am sorry as well.”

  She let the words linger in the air as she enforced them with her thoughts inside Trista’s mind.

  “For I believed I could do better without you. That I did not need anyone in this world to survive. Yet it was I who was dragged through that endless, waterless landscape by the two of you. All the while I questioned myself how it had happened. How I could be weak, and you and Decan so strong. It is your love. The bond you have but none can see or feel. And I understand now that while we are connected, we are of two minds and two hearts. I did not in the beginning. Understand, I mean. But now I do. Now I see that in your heart there is no limit to what one can cherish; to the amount it can hold. Decan showed me this in the desert. He stopped fighting it first; stopped fighting for your attention and love, and accepted me. But I—I wanted to leave you both, stop being a burden. Or maybe I saw you as the burden.”

  “You were never a b—” began Trista before Dalkeira cut her off.

  “I know, I know, and neither are you. Nor Decan. I see that now. Your little brother said it already then, in different words, with his own version of wisdom. And I realize now that your will to protect him does not diminish your attachment to me. Nor does your wish to learn from those you admire. For we are family, even if I am not related by blood.”

  Trista smiled as the last of her doubt vaporized like a puddle of water in the hot desert sun. Finally, she could again focus on the future instead of running away from the past. She felt the warmth she had missed so much these past few weeks rush back into her mind.

  “This time it’s my choice. You are my choice,” said Trista. “I acknowledge you as the water of my life. Together, we’ll protect those who are dear to us.”

  “And knock down those who stand in our way,” said Dalkeira defiantly.

  “I finally recognize you. See you with all that is. You are mine, and I am yours,” said Trista.

  For a split second, Trista wondered if this was what it was like to seal a waterbond with someone. Dalkeira’s eyes swirled in pleasure as a soft hum rose from her throat, until suddenly the roar of flames erupted all around them.

  “No! Not again!” said Trista.

  She looked around helplessly as the flames closed in from all sides. Dalkeira stepped forward, shielding her from the closest inferno.

  “You have nothing to fear here,” said the dragon. “You are strong and kind, Trista of the waterclans. You will overcome many dangers. And for those you cannot overcome alone, I will be there. Just get behind me.”

  Trista wondered what Dalkeira was doing. Then she noticed the water on the floor begin to spin. While the flames drew closer, a spinning sphere of water surrounded them completely. Trista heard the sizzle of flames trying to reach them. The fire was nearly upon them, surrounding the entire liquid shield. Dalkeira braced herself.

  “Hold on,” she said.

  With one big push, Dalkeira blasted the entire sphere of water outward, completely extinguishing the flames surrounding them.

  “See? Nothing to worry about,” said Dalkeira.

  With the flames gone, the dark now simply filled up with steam. Trista saw the image of Dalkeira becoming blurry.

  “The steam is getting thicker. I can hardly see you anymore,” said Trista in a slight panic.

  “Do not worry. I will be with you, even if you cannot see me,” came Dalkeira’s voice from the fog.

  The hollow, empty world disappeared in a thick layer of steam. First, Dalkeira disappeared, then her own feet, hands, and the rest of her body. Everything faded away.

  Slowly, Trista opened her eyes. She looked around, trying to focus. In front of her, Dalkeira yawned and opened one of her eyes. They were still in the hut. The fire in the middle had long gone out. The stones had lost all but the last of their warmth. Outside, Trista heard the voice of the life listener sing on undisturbed, though the accompanying beat had moved from wood to a rattle on a drum skin.

  Trista stretched her arms above her head, letting her body know it was time to start moving again. She was a bit stiff, but felt wonderful—like a cloud she had not known was in her head had finally been lifted. She looked at Dalkeira.

  “I’m glad that…” Trista tried to put her thoughts into words. When she could not, she just sent a mass of warm feelings to the dragon.

  “I’m just glad.”

  Dalkeira’s eyes swirled as she accepted the flow of warmth from Trista. The dragon let out a rumble.

  “It is strange. I feel lighter, but I do not think I lost any weight or decreased in size,” said Dalkeira. “Perhaps it is my stomach that is empty. Can we go and eat?”

  Trista laughed heartily.

  “I could use a bite as well. Maybe tomorrow we can find larger prey for you to eat. If you want to hunt with me, that is.”

  “It will be my pleasure. I will even allow the others to come with us,” said Dalkeira semi-seriously. “If we cannot join them, we will let them join us.”

  “Duvessa, you can stop now. We’re back.”

  Outside, the sound of the old woman’s voice died off, but the strange drumming continued uninterrupted.

  “Really, you can stop now, Duvessa,” said Trista, making her way to the small door.

  As the flap opened, a familiar smell drifted into the dragon’s nose.

  “Water. I smell water,” said Dalkeira, now wide awake.

  The dragon quickly followed her out of the hut, nearly bumping into her. Trista held her face up to the sky and laughed out loud. Rain poured down on her; it wet her skin and soaked her clothes. The sky was dark with clouds, but this time there was no lightning, no thunder. The heavens let their drops fall toward the red earth. It was a welcome worthy of the goddess. Dalkeira shot forward and spread her wings. She bounced around Trista like a young goat chasing a butterfly.

  “Rain! Rain! Rain is finally here!” The words echoed so loudly in both their heads that Trista was uncertain if the thought was her own or not.

  Behind them, Duvessa observed both dragon and woman with blindfolded eyes, and smiled.

  “Oh dear, oh my, you brought the rains back with you it seems, Trista of the Minai. The times of plenty have finally arrived.”

  The next few days went by in a haze of hard work and sleep. Trista began her training with the long spears the Minai carried. It took up most of her time, and although she preferred her light fishing spears, she had to admit the large, strong spears of the tribe had an excellent feel to them. For now, Aslara made her carry one around with her.

  “It needs to become one with you,” she had said. “So carry it around everywhere, until it does not get stuck behind things anymore; until you can grab it with your eyes closed. Be aware of it. It will sharpen your mind and ready it for the first big hunt.”

  Trista wondered what the leading mother had meant by that, as she had joined them a few times already during hunts for food. Nonetheless, the tool—or weapon, depending on how one looked at it—slowly became a part of Trista’s normal routine. She was happy to see she was not the only one in training. A handful of Minai girls were undergoing similar training efforts. Even though they were much younger, it reassured Trista that she was not singled out, though her inexperience often led her to stay and practice her forms long after the others had left.

  The rest of her time was mostly spent with Dalkeira and Decan. In the evenings, she visited Aslara, or chatted with a few of the other women who spoke Terran. Life stories were told, or the day’s training discussed. Everyone had their own advice to give—always with the best intentions, of course.

  At first, her muscles objected to the sudden increase in activity. But after the fourth day, Trista noticed her body adjusting to the new rhythm. Back on the island, she had spent entire days on boats, diving, swimming or scavenging, so it was not like her body was not used to hard work. However, the months on the road and survivin
g the desert had certainly taken its toll; one that was now slowly undone as she built up her strength again.

  The water level of the underground lake rose quickly as every day the rains poured in. The water was soon high enough to stream out of the tunnel the Minai used to access the water gardens, so preparations were made to guide the flow through the village. Trista also finally understood why many of the Minai slept on the side of the mountain instead of in the few huts located on the ground. With each rainfall, water rushed down the mountainside, forming fast-moving streams that snaked through the village. The high entrances of the doors stopped most of the water from coming in, but one hut had already been completely flooded when part of a weak wall was swept away. As a result, the mountainside huts now tended to get a bit crowded every night.

  After their lifedream, Trista and Dalkeira had spent the night together watching the water stream into the cave. Trista was pleased to finally feel the water goddess’ touch again. Dalkeira took the opportunity to impress Trista with her watertouch. Now they were reconnected on a deeper level, the dragon loved to show off her skill by splitting the curtain of water that fell in through the hole. She formed water bridges, and orbs which she then shot through the downpour. She even tried to create a vortex of water as it came from outside, though that still proved too great a challenge.

  Each day, after the rain, the sun broke through and heated the underground lake. It was still cold, but warm enough for Trista to join Dalkeira from time to time. The cool water worked wonders for Trista’s sore muscles after a long day of training.

  “I feel like you’re getting faster and faster in the water,” said Trista in her mind. Dalkeira’s shadow passed under her in the water; she felt the water pull on her legs as the dragon shot by.

  “It feels much easier here than in the ocean,” said Dalkeira as she popped her head above water. “This water feels lighter than the salt waters of the sea.”

  Dalkeira arced a stream of water over Trista’s head. It seemed to Trista that the days after the ba’roshia had done them both good. Dalkeira especially seemed to be in a playful mood, which was not very common. She knew her dragon was a proud dragon, but in Trista’s opinion that pride sometimes prevented Dalkeira from enjoying things to the fullest. She wondered why today was different.

  “You really are something else, my little waterdancer,” said Trista.

  “Little? Are you sure about that? Could a little dragon do this?”

  And with those words, Dalkeira disappeared underwater. Trista expected to feel the dragon shoot below her even faster, but instead suddenly felt Dalkeira’s snout push against her legs and launch her out of the water. It was anything but elegant; Trista tumbled back down into the water with a large splash. She resurfaced, coughing heavily, and looked around, bewildered. For a moment, she wanted to yell at the dragon. How she could do something so unexpected? But she stopped herself as Dalkeira came closer. The dragon’s eyes swirled with playful mischief.

  “Well, that could have gone better,” said Trista, laughing in between coughs. “How about you give me a bit of warning next time? Come on, let’s try again.”

  This time, Trista made sure to keep her feet still as she saw Dalkeira’s shadow rise up from the deep like some kind of sea monster. The thought gave Trista goosebumps. The power of the dragon’s movements was very intimidating. It reminded her of dragging one of the large ocean fish into her boat. The muscled fish were often difficult to control, and you had to be quick to give a killing blow or you would run the risk of the fish injuring you as it tried to flop back into the water again. As Dalkeira grew larger, the power she possessed would be immense. Trista could not imagine anything in the world that might withstand it. Certainly not her. She had never been so glad Dalkeira was on her side.

  Trista felt herself launch into the air, the goosebumps quickly replaced by an exhilarated feeling. With a somersault, she splashed nimbly back into the water.

  Dalkeira dove deep and swam right up to Trista, who was holding her breath and enjoying the image of her sha’cara moving underwater.

  “Grab hold,” said the dragon.

  Trista let her hands slip along Dalkeira’s skin to hook them around the shoulders, where Dalkeira’s wings connected. As soon as Dalkeira felt Trista’s grip, she shot forward through the lake. She pushed herself forward with tail and webbed claws, her speed so great Trista could barely hold on. They returned to the surface so Trista could draw another breath of air. Immediately after, Dalkeira went off into the deep. The movement was so fast Trista had to risk releasing one hand to pinch her nose and clear her ears.

  “Easy, easy. I’m slipping,” said Trista in her mind.

  Dalkeira slowed down, checking back to see how Trista was doing.

  “It’s more difficult to turn my head underwater than in the air,” remarked Dalkeira in her head. “In the air, my wings keep me level so I can freely look around, but here, every time I look back, my body follows.”

  Trista also noticed the dragon tired more quickly than when she swam alone. Given how fast her own arms lost their strength with the intense grip she had to maintain, she suspected the additional drag from her holding on was the reason why.

  She tried to keep up by swimming, but they were simply going too fast for her legs to be useful. And after an entire day of training, it was not long before her arms started to shout their aching complaints.

  “Can you move with just your tail and front legs? I want to try something,” said Trista when they resurfaced again.

  This time, Dalkeira moved slower, letting her hind legs hang behind her. It took a moment for Trista to figure it out, but on the fifth attempt she was able to place her feet on the inner side of Dalkeira’s hind leg. Now that her legs could bear the force of the movement, it was a lot less tiresome to hold on to the dragon’s wing joint.

  It took some time for Dalkeira to adjust to the new posture. The movement was not as powerful as swimming with all four legs and tail, but they still made good speed, especially after Dalkeira decreased the water’s resistance with her watertouch.

  As the light faded from the cave, both Trista and Dalkeira got more creative. They tried all sorts of acrobatics; Trista crawling and standing on Dalkeira’s back; being launched into the air by the dragon’s tail, then softening the landing with a pillar of water—Trista had never laughed so loud.

  “Come on. We’d better get out of here,” said Trista eventually. “The sun is long gone and I’m getting cold. Besides, tomorrow is the big day.”

  Dalkeira pulled Trista to the side of the lake, where they both climbed back onto solid ground. The dragon shook her skin and wings to get rid of the excess water.

  “If I wasn’t already wet, I would be now,” teased Trista. “Let’s go. I could use a fire and some food.”

  “I wonder if it will be another day of eating plants and bugs,” said Dalkeira with a yawn.

  The dragon did not care much for the plant diet, but it seemed she was too tired to let it bother her today.

  Trista looked at her friend. Over the past few weeks, she had often worried about Dalkeira, and not just because of the deteriorating bond. The dragon had grown very skinny. She would easily win a competition between them in length, but it was her weight that concerned Trista.

  Now that she was aware of it, Trista wondered if it was because of Dalkeira’s watertouch. The techniques always called for a large amount of concentration; in addition to that, the dragon spent extended times in the water, constantly moving. There was no way the insects and plants could compensate for that amount of energy use. Thankfully, the dragon did not seem exhausted; merely tired from their afternoon. And though she was thin, her winged companion appeared to be all muscle with plenty of power.

  Trista ran her hand across Dalkeira’s skin, tracing the warm dragon scales.

  “Maybe the huntresses got lucky and caught another hare or large bird,” offered Trista in consolation. “They’ve been bringing back more and mor
e each day. Decan said he was going to look too, but it is against the rules for him to carry a spear now. He was not very happy about that. In any case, Duvessa said it will all change soon, maybe even tomorrow. After all, these are the times of plenty.”

  Chapter 27

  Lights

  Trista sat behind Aslara, Shiri and half a dozen other women from the tribe, calmly waiting. There was an intense silence in the life listener’s hut where they gathered. With this many people, the room was crowded, the air thick from heat. Yet none dared move.

  Dalkeira poked her head through the doorway.

  “Does she know?” the dragon asked privately, surveying the room with her vortex eyes.

  “I don’t think so. She hasn’t moved for some time.”

  At the front, Duvessa stood with her head leaning against the life roots, the tips of her fingers moving along the roots’ surface. Her mouth softly muttered words Trista could not hear. In the corner, the black raven hopped nervously back and forth on a dried branch.

  Trista had been pleasantly surprised when she was invited to join the huntress’ gathering in the old woman’s dwelling.

  “Shiri does not seem happy you are here,” said Dalkeira.

  The Minai woman, who sat next to Aslara, threw a glance over her shoulder cold enough to chill the room.

  “I know, but she made no objections this morning when Aslara said I could sit in.”

  “Perhaps she could not, since you are now an official member of the Minai.”

  “Maybe.”

  Movement at the front drew Trista’s attention. Aslara rose to her feet to grab Duvessa’s hand.

  “And?” said Aslara.

  The old woman smiled.