by Dawn Cook
My thoughts flashed back to my cheat, the worry and fear in his eyes as he loosened my bandage and sent pain through me to save my life. I wanted to be angry with him since it had been his idea to put me in the pit with the punta, but he couldn’t have known what it was, and he had seen me do amazing things in the past. And he had looked so worried as he tended me. The heartache that had filled me the first time I rode through this dream woods seemed to swell, pushing all else out. “I should have told you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. If I could have done anything different, I would have told you.”
“Told me what?” Jeck said, his masculine voice echoing up through me where my back met his chest.
Surprised he had spoken, I twisted. The keen awareness of his eyes from under his parade hat decked with black feathers jerked me straight. His presence in my dream was as eerily aware and comprehending as mine. I would have fallen off Jy if the man hadn’t tightened his grip on me. Suddenly, the warmth and comfort from him became a lie.
“Let go!” I shouted, squirming to get down, though it was my horse.
He pressed his lips, hiding them behind his neatly trimmed, jet-black beard and mustache. Annoyance flickered in his brown eyes. Muscles bunched in his shoulders, and he bodily lifted me and set me back atop Jy. The horse nickered, shying.
Undeterred, I swung the flat of my hand at him. He caught it, gripping my wrist where the ropes had burned them and sending new tendrils of dream-pain up my arm.
“Stop it,” he said calmly, bringing to mind the first time we had shared a horse. He had swooped down out of nowhere and abducted me, riding off with me across his horse’s shoulders.
“Then get off my horse!” I demanded, pulse fast.
“I can’t,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Believe me, if I could, I would.”
The surprise of that stopped me cold. “You can’t?” I asked, and he released my wrist.
“This is your prophetic dream, not mine—I think. It would be better to play it out and try to learn something rather than to give in to your natural tendencies to hit me and run away.”
“I wouldn’t run away,” I said while I rubbed my wrists, though I probably would have. I didn’t trust him, and he knew it.
Jeck said nothing, not even a sigh, and I shifted atop my horse to try to find a more comfortable position. Immediately I slid back into Jeck as his hands were no longer around me. We walked through a patch of early-morning sun that had found its way through the canopy, and I watched the glimmer of light upon his quiet face, reading nothing but a tired worry.
“Prophetic dream?” I asked. “Is that why everything is so real?”
“What the hell is Kavenlow teaching you? How to crochet doilies?” he muttered.
It was condescending, prompting a quick, “He said I shouldn’t trust prophetic dreams. That they could be manipulated by your unconscious to give you false truths. What the chu pits are you doing in my dream, anyway?” It was rougher than I had intended, but I let the emotion stand without any softening. I was thoroughly embarrassed. I had been snuggled up to him as if I enjoyed it. Well, I had, but that wasn’t the point. He was a rival player. Not only was it inappropriate, but it could get me killed.
Jeck searched the underside of the canopy with his eyes, reaching to keep his elaborate dress hat atop his head. I knew he hated the black-and-gold monstrosity with the drooping feathers across his back even as he wore it without fail to official functions. “I have no idea why I’m here,” he finally said, not meeting my eyes. “But he’s right. Unless you know what you’re doing, a prophetic dream will do more harm than good. It’s possible to make some use of them if you handle them properly.”
“How do you handle them?” I asked, thinking it was only a boast.
“Are you my apprentice?” he shot back.
Embarrassment turned to an old anger. “Never mind.” Peeved, I stared ahead, slipping backwards into him inch by inch as Jy plodded forward. I’d ask Kavenlow. If I survived. But if this was a prophetic dream, than it seemed likely I’d live past my punta bite. Somehow.
Jeck was silent, then slowly offered, “The skill lies in interacting as little as possible. Behave as if you’re an observer, not part of it. Letting things happen and doing what feels right, even if it’s something you normally wouldn’t do. You can’t partake of the future properly with only the memories of today.”
I didn’t understand, and I wondered if he was being nebulous with the intent to make me feel stupid. Hearing my silence, he added, “What I mean is we started this with my arm about your waist, holding you. If you won’t hit me, I’ll put my hand back, and we’ll be closer to the true future than we are now.”
My eyes narrowed, but it was hard to stay on Jy without a proper saddle, so I nodded. The memory of how I had curved my body to fit his rose high, and I recalled the sensation of protection I had felt. And it had all been in my mind, I thought.
His arm went about me hesitantly, with an imprisoning strength equal to that when he had abducted me. I looked at his hand, its tanned length holding me firmly. There was a flash of rightness, then it faded. “Not so tight,” I whispered, only some of my nervousness due to the fact that I was starting to understand what he meant. The rest stemmed from his holding me at all.
“I thought so, too,” he breathed, and his fingers loosened. The lighter grip imparted an uncomfortable feeling of intimacy. Even worse was that I could feel the rightness of it, almost like bolts sliding into place. I knew if I leaned back into him, setting my head against his cheek, that it would feel even more right, but I wasn’t going to do it.
Instead, I handed Jeck the reins though I didn’t want to. “Yes,” he said softly, the one arm of his clean uniform reaching past me. “That’s better.”
“What else?” I asked softly so he wouldn’t hear my voice tremble. I felt sick, my emotions conflicting horribly as I was experiencing both my real feelings of unease and fear and my dream emotions of a bitter anger, betrayal, and recrimination. I wondered if Jeck was suffering through the same thing.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “We won’t get the conversation right, but this?” He took a slow breath, his chest pressing into me for an instant before he pulled back. “This will happen.”
He sounded as unhappy as I felt, and I was glad the brief flash of the raft with my hands bound before me had been wholly my experience and not his as well. As least I thought it was only my vision; the Jeck aboard the raft lacked the awareness that this one had. But the voice in my head aboard the Sandpiper had been his.
“The dream aboard the Sandpiper?” I prompted hesitantly.
“That wasn’t a dream,” he said, tension lacing his deep voice. “That is now.”
“But it’s not possible to share thoughts,” I stammered, wondering if my frequent use of him as a subject to follow emotions had sensitized me to him more than was prudent.
I turned to face him, but he wouldn’t look up from the leaves, the muscles of his square jaw tightening and relaxing as his thoughts shifted. “No, it isn’t,” he finally said.
“We’re sharing them now,” I protested.
Jeck’s eyes flicked to mine and away. “As soon as I realized what was going on, I went belowdecks and dosed myself to my limit on venom,” he said, his voice soft and carrying a new, unfamiliar vulnerability and reluctance. “Just how much venom did you give yourself trying to find me? You’re a fool. You know that, don’t you?”
Now it was my turn to look away, though I thought I heard a sliver of astonished admiration in his words. “I wasn’t trying to find you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “The pirates threw me into a pit with a punta. It bit me before I got it out.”
Jeck’s breath audibly caught, and his grip about me tensed.
“I think I’m dying,” I said in a small voice. “I don’t know why I’m still alive, except that Duncan has wrapped my shoulder and is slowly loosening it to release the venom in doses that I might survive.”
The c
lop of Jy’s hooves grew hard for a moment as we passed over a rockslide, then became soft again. “That’s not enough alone to save you,” Jeck said, his voice flat. “You were bitten in your shoulder?”
Fear stabbed through me, and my stomach churned. I am alive, I thought. I am still alive. “It scratched me, too.” I reached up to it, surprised to find a small bandage and dull ache under my dress. Surprised, I fixed upon his eyes.
“It looks like you survived,” he said, his face showing no emotion. “Let me see it. I want to know how long it’s been healing.”
“No,” I said, afraid. I didn’t want Jeck to know when he would capture me, ending the game my teacher had started. I am alive. I will survive. The punta didn’t kill me.
Jeck shook the reins harshly. With no warning, he reached out and yanked my dress from my shoulder.
Gasping, I awkwardly backhanded him. The flat of my hand met his cheek, shocking through me, but even as I hit him, the cold spring air of the coast touched upon my new skin as he yanked the bandage aside. Glancing at my shoulder, he pulled the wrap back up to hide it.
Heart pounding, I sat on my horse, furious, as his hand gripped my waist again. “You touch me again, and I swear, I’ll dart you in your sleep!” I shouted, incensed. There was a faint reddening beside his eye where my hand had hit him.
“I’d guess two weeks of unaided healing,” he said calmly. Taking his hat off, he threw it into the scrub. “This is useless,” he said. “With both of us aware and interacting, there’s nothing left I can trust but that you and I end up on a horse together. I can’t even pull any emotions from it anymore.”
“Well, isn’t that a shame,” I mocked, still stinging from him having yanked my dress off my shoulder. “The big strong captain unable to steal anything from my prophetic dream.”
Irritation creased his otherwise smooth brow. “I don’t know why I care,” he said. “Just shut up and hold still.”
Breath catching, I shied away as he forced Jy’s reins into my grip and reached for my shoulder. He stopped at my warning look and exhaled loudly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Pressure bandages aren’t enough to survive a punta bite. If I don’t do something, you’ll be dead in two days. Or would you rather be dead than let me help you?”
A wash of fear pushed out my anger. Kavenlow had told me surviving a punta bite was impossible. Perhaps between Jeck’s ability to heal and Duncan’s pressure bandage, I could manage it. I didn’t want to die. And the memory of the agony waiting for me when I woke up burned out much of my pride. If Jeck wanted to kill me, all he would have to do was nothing. I would have to trust that he would help.
Eyes fixed to his, I nodded, terribly unsure.
With a grunt of what sounded like surprise, Jeck gently placed his sun-browned hands to either side of my bare shoulder. I stiffened, feeling his masculine strength as he pressed until the soft throb turned to pain. My breath came in, shaking, and he eased up, his eye twitching.
Under me, Jy plodded forward, the thumps of his hooves jarring. Jeck exhaled, his gaze going vacant, as if slipping deeper within himself in intense thought. I tensed as he relaxed, hoping I might be able to steal from him the knowledge of how he healed with his hands since he wouldn’t teach me, preferring to keep that particular carrot possibly to entice me from Kavenlow at some future date.
As my pulse hammered in expectation, a warm tingle replaced the ache of the bite. My shoulders slumped, and my eyelids drooped. Like warm water, it pulsed in a slow rhythm through me, and I wasn’t surprised to find my breathing had matched Jeck’s. It was like . . . being wrapped in a fire-warmed blanket, and I ignored the tiny thought of possible betrayal and just let it happen. It was comforting, and I needed comfort—even if it was a lie.
“My God,” he whispered, and my eyes flew open, the peace he had instilled flicking to nothing. Fear slid through me when I caught a sliver of panic in his expression before he steeled it back to nothing. “There’s so much,” he added, his brown eyes unable to hide his shock.
I forced myself to be still under his hands, though a faint itch demanded I move. “Venom?” I guessed. Warmth was still coming from his hands, and I was reluctant to move. I could feel it spreading through me, touching on my scratched arm before dissolving into a general feeling of well-being.
“Even your residual levels are dangerously high,” he answered, his voice slurred slightly. “I can’t take it from you, but by speeding up the healing, I can wall it off in the tissues so it won’t kill you. It’s going to act like your thief’s bandage. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do.”
His eyes met mine. Like a fog lifting from the harbor, his gaze cleared. His hands dropped from my shoulder. Still, my body tingled from his touch. Under it was the promise of the coming return of pain, but for now, it was gone.
“Thank you,” I whispered, somehow even more frightened. Why had he done it? Kavenlow couldn’t fault him for my dying from a punta bite. He was free and clear, and my death would further Jeck’s game considerably since Kavenlow would be forced to divide his attention between the game and bringing up a new apprentice.
Jeck wouldn’t look at me, taking the reins back from my slack fingers. “That you survived this long is a miracle,” he muttered. I didn’t think he had heard me, so deep in thought was he. “I don’t know what that much venom is going to do to you.”
“You saved my life,” I breathed, my eyes going blurry as I refused to cry. “Thank you,” I repeated, determined that he acknowledge my gratitude. My shoulder felt cold with his palms’ absence, and I reached to touch it. The tingling was slipping into memory, leaving a faint, dull ache. It was the reality of my hurt shoulder slipping into our dream.
Seeming startled, Jeck met my eyes and looked away. “Don’t thank me until you’ve talked to your teacher,” he said cryptically.
I had slid back into him, and he was very close. My hand dropped, and I went frightened at his suddenly closed posture. “What is it?” I demanded. “What did you see?”
Jeck shook Jy’s reins, but the horse never shifted his pace. “Your residual levels are too high,” he said softly. “You can’t play the game anymore.”
My eyes widened. The breath in me turned to ash, and I found I couldn’t breathe. The residual levels of toxin in a player rose slowly with time and repeated use of venom. Those same levels fell even slower when a player avoided using the toxin at all. It was the residual toxin that a player drew upon to perform magic unless he or she dosed up on venom to give his or her skills a temporary boost, as Jeck had done to join me in my dream.
But if my residual levels were too high, forced into an elevated state by the punta bite, then I was just as vulnerable to a rival player’s dart as a commoner. One dart could kill me. I couldn’t . . . Kavenlow wouldn’t let me play the game.
The reality of my situation hit me like a sudden rain, drenching, to leave me shaking in a frightened anger. That’s why he had done it. He had saved my life, but in the doing, made me useless for the game. “You did this on purpose!” I shouted. “Is that why you helped me? You knew I couldn’t play the game if my residual levels were too high!”
“Don’t blame this on me,” Jeck said, red-faced and stiff as he yelled back at me in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not the one who threw you into a pit with a punta. I just saved your life, princess. That your residual levels are elevated is not my problem.”
I could feel the heat of anger coming from him, but that paled in importance as I sat on Jy watching my life fall apart even as I regained it. If I couldn’t play the game, what was left to me? Kavenlow, I thought, my heart clenching. I couldn’t be his apprentice if I couldn’t handle toxin.
Fear took me then, real and debilitating. He would have to abandon me. He needed someone to succeed him in his game, and if one dart would kill me, I was worth less than nothing. All the pain and sacrifices would mean nothing. Jeck might as well have let me die.
I swallowed hard, not want
ing him to know how scared I was. “Residual levels drop,” I whispered, knowing my eyes were panic-stricken when I met Jeck’s, and he jerked his attention away. And by the tightening of his lips, I knew the more experienced player thought they’d never drop soon enough for me ever to take up the game again.
“Of course they do,” he said, but he wouldn’t bring his gaze to me. “It will just take time. What I didn’t trap in your healing tissues has already started to work itself out, but your teacher will need to evaluate your new level of residual toxin very carefully.”
How am I going to tell Kavenlow? “How long do you think it will take?” I said, gaze blurring on the passing vegetation, bright with the morning sun.
Jeck was silent, the jostling of the horse shifting me back into him. “Several years, I’d guess,” he lied. I could hear it in his voice, feel it in his emotions I was picking up whether I wanted to or not.
“A year or two,” I breathed, knowing a decade or two was more likely. God save me, I was going to lose everything I’d worked my life for.
My breathing went ragged, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry. He was wrong. There was no way to survive a punta bite, so I must have gotten less venom than he said. My levels would drop sooner than he thought. Slowly I straightened, taking a deep breath and looking ahead down the sun-dappled path. Jeck took in my new posture and sighed heavily.
“How long is this dream going to last?” I said, cursing the quaver that remained in my voice. He isn’t that much older than I. How can he know how much venom I had?
“I don’t know.” He shook Jy’s reins as the animal tried to snag a quick bite of thin grass by the edge of the path.
The memory of feeling his arms securely about me, comforting but not binding, rose high, and I cursed myself for wanting to feel them again. I recognized the desire for what it was—a desperate reach for something safe when my world was falling apart. Duncan would have held me the same way, had I let him. But Duncan isn’t here, my thoughts prompted.