He swept his arm out to follow him out of the cavern. “Prophecy darkens now. It speaks of things that even I have no hint of their meaning.” His words echoed through the cavern.
Celeste’s dagger glowed, providing the only light.
Nivel dodged a hole. “They speak of the one reborn and of deception. Of false peace. Of a War of Darkness.”
“More riddles.” Brock grumbled.
Outside, the moon hung full. It would be hours before dawn.
They hiked back to Melwyn and Gillespie.
Instead of sleeping, Gillespie peeled pieces of bark from a branch and tossed them into the flames. When Melwyn leapt forward at their approach, he rose as well. “I thought the ground was going to swallow itself up earlier.”
Still, despite his words, his eyes held anger whenever he glanced at Landon. Mirhana was about to say something when Landon grabbed his pack and dug through it to change and Celeste gave her a hug.
As Landon changed, they explained what had happened to Gillespie, and about Jeslyn’s death. They found out she had tricked him, saying she had to relieve herself. When he found out the truth, it was too late.
They waited for dawn before traveling back to the coast and hoping for a lost ship to take them home.
Mirhana and Landon held each other. She praised the gods that he was safe. Now, she would no longer have to worry about his death, since he was not human. No doubt, he would outlive her.
• • •
Their packs nearly empty, since Nivel helped himself to most of the food, they marched to the coast.
Still Mirhana’s nervousness from earlier did not dissipate. Why was Nivel alive? Was there some trace of the Warloc alive then as well?
She wondered when or rather where Landon would want to marry. At the dragons’ lair or his palace? And there was still his father to contend with. If he killed his own wife over the Warloc’s progeny, and her betrothal with Landon, what would he think of her? It was bad enough the dragons grumbled about her. She also had Landon’s father to deal with, whom she doubted would be pleased about their pending wedding. Still, she insisted they let him know before proceeding with their wedding ceremony.
As if making up for the freeze of winter, the sun scorched the sand beneath their feet. Landon smiled, and she caught her breath. He was handsome and wild, and all hers. Breena was always telling her to enjoy the moment, so, she pushed her nagging questions into the back of her mind.
At the water’s edge, she saw no ships in the distance.
“What now?” Brock didn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Surely the prophecies told you to keep a boat handy?”
“I could shift and fly us.” Landon winked at her.
“To where?” Nivel waved an arm out. “Land, even at dragon speed is days away. You’d fall into the water and take us along with you to drown.”
The cliffs of the dead loomed behind them. She thought she saw a shadow pass between one in the distance. Nothing lived on this land. Even the trees were dead.
Gillespie removed his boots and socks then rolled up his trousers to his shins. “Don’t know how you can wait here with the sand burning through your boots. I would have brought a boat if I had been in charge.” He waded into the water.
Mirhana plopped down on the beach and Landon sat beside her. Inhaling, she smelled the saltwater, heated sand, and a hint of musk from Landon.
“I love you.” He kissed her hand.
“It’s about time you said so.” Her lips parted and he reached out and brought her to him. The taste of his lips made her shudder. They’d been too long without the company of others around them.
When she whispered in his ear for them to break away from the group, she heard Nivel yell. Landon kissed her again, ignoring whatever trouble Nivel had gotten himself into. Mirhana smiled against his lips.
Landon stood, bringing her up with him.
The others lined up along the beach. Gillespie’s feet were still in the water, but he stared out across the horizon.
In the distance, waves crashed. Mirhana didn’t think anything looked unusual, but then Landon squeezed her hand. “Marelynes.”
She followed his gaze back out to the waves. Tails flashed in the water yards from them. By their speed, they’d reach them within seconds.
Instinctively, she drew her bow. Landon already had his sword out, but Gillespie’s lay untouched on the beach.
“Let them speak before rendering judgment, or punishment.” Celeste walked to the edge of the ocean.
Nine heads of pink, green, and purple hair shot out of the water. Fish tails flapped in the water behind them.
Seven of the Marelynes were male, the others female.
One of the males with purple hair chopped so short that it stuck out like the spikes of a blowfish, swam closer. “We heard the summons in the water.”
“What summons?” Mirhana held a notched arrow aimed at his head.
For a moment, he blinked at her and she saw three different eyelids move. “The summons of the token.”
When none of them responded, he pointed to Gillespie. “He carries it.”
“This?” Gillespie dug the medallion, which hung on a string around his neck. It was a woman with a fish’s tail carved on the front.
Mirhana knew from Brock’s conversation about the past that there were two of them and he had used it to prove Gillespie’s father wanted him to forget finding the dragons that destroyed their village and killed his mother.
“Aye, it’s one of our coins.”
“My mother gave me this when I was a boy. And was given to her by her mother, who got it from hers, and so on for generations. I didn’t steal it.”
The Marelyne’s hand went up. “None can own one of our coins unless it has been given.”
Gillespie’s shoulders relaxed.
“What may we do to help?”
Nivel frowned. “We need a way off this blasted island.”
“Is this your desire?” The Marelyne addressed Gillespie.
“Aye, but I can’t swim.”
“I am H’Lenja. Come, we will carry all upon our backs to our Behovel.”
When Gillespie backed up a step, H’Lenja laughed.
“There, it’s harmless. It only eats those who’d harpoon it.” He pointed into the waves.
And as if on command, the Behovel shot out two streams of water into the air.
“Why do you help us?” Mirhana asked.
“When an act, good or evil, is done to one of us, it is done to all of us.”
“I don’t understand.” Gillespie rubbed the medallion in his hand.
Mirhana thought he looked the same color green as one of the women’s hair.
“Long ago during a storm, our Queen was caught in a fisherman’s net. She was pregnant.” His tail swished in the water. “The Warloc gave orders to all humans to kill us on sight. This fisherman had taken ill the day before. His wife, in order that they did not starve, set the nets that day. When she saw our Queen heavy with child, she did not allow her to die.
“Instead she cut her free from the net and her husband’s livelihood. Our Queen responded to her kindness saying nets may be mended, but lives cannot. She gave her two of our coins.” Even before he pointed to the medallion, Mirhana knew that was what he spoke of. “Two coins, one for each life the woman spared.
“They are safe passage through the seas for her descendants who carry one.”
“What of them?”
“Because you and your ancestors who carried these coins were not greedy, but have generations upon generations not asked us for payment, we will include your friends as well. Do not expect another favor of us for them.”
After debating and voicing their fears, they decided to trust these people rather than try their luck staying here in the land of the dead.
The others climbed on the backs of the male Marelynes. Melwyn swam on his own as if insulted when the Marelyne woman tried to help him.
Brock waded out
to them, but then stopped. “I cannot.”
H’Lenja glanced back at him. “Why not? You won’t drown, I promise.”
“If I touch you, I will drain your life away.”
As though he did not believe him, H’Lenja swam closer. Brock backed up, but he shook his head. “I will judge if what you speak is truth.”
With a nod, Brock held his hand out.
When his fingers brushed Brock’s palm, H’Lenja gasped and fell back into the sea.
“Perhaps your magic will not affect them if you hold onto their tails?” Mirhana tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
“It’s a curse, not magic,” Brock grumbled.
After catching his breath, H’Lenja gestured for Brock to touch his tail.
When he did, they both nodded. Then Brock was dragged through the water after the others.
By the time they reached the Behovel, Brock sputtered water out as he clamored inside the mouth of the Behovel.
Mirhana leaned against Landon’s shoulder, thankful that for once in her long life that she had found love. A love that might outlast her, and only strengthen to a depth she couldn’t fathom every day. She did not want to think of anything else but getting him alone when they reached land.
Instead, Nivel’s ramblings of incomplete prophecies danced in her mind. It bothered her that Gillespie now seemed indifferent to Landon—his attitude possibly even bordering on hatred now that he discovered his prince was a dragon. Was Jeslyn the traitor in their midst that the dragon prophecy had warned? Or someone else?
“Everything okay?” Landon asked.
“It’s perfect.” She brushed her lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip. Now was the time of celebration. They had traveled to Cape Seyechell and defeated the Warloc. Landon loved her, and she loved him. And that was all that mattered.
Her lips brushed his again with a promise of more to come.
Epilogue
Kavith crawled forward inside the cavern of the dead. Her father the Warloc’s spirit, had departed, but not gone.
The damn witch thwarted their plans again. And she as his progeny thought she had prepared for her father’s rebirth.
How dare the dragon choose an Elvin over her!
Her arm ached from the poison racing through her body. Already the flesh rotted up to the side of her face and down to her neck. It continued to spread, burning as if it would never cease. How she wished to give the Elvin girl a taste of her own poison, this misery, which would slowly eat at her flesh, her faith, and dreams.
Without her father’s powers, she could not heal her body. Yet, she had a chance for vengeance another way.
She dragged herself forward until she touched Jeslyn. The body was cool, but had not yet stiffened. She clasped Jeslyn’s arm.
She whispered the incantation the Warloc taught her. The sacrifice was also part of the key. Thankfully, during the wars with the Elvin, her father the Warloc had stolen many of the prophecies that spoke of his rebirth. She had one chance that he gave her should they fail. And she would use it now.
Underneath her hand, the body warmed. Just when she saw the glow as Jeslyn’s soul winked in the distance, Kavith slammed her own soul forward.
Like a snail changing houses, her spirit coiled inside the life-less body.
She must concentrate. The final words must be spoken before the second breath in the new body. A weight fell over her and she struggled to breathe.
So close, she felt the air upon her skin, but could not grasp it into these lungs.
Her fist clenched as she fought Jeslyn’s soul, which swirled around the body.
Kavith was a Sorceress. She knew the powers and workings of magic. This girl knew nothing.
Thinking of the Warloc, she willed this new body to breathe.
At last, sweet air rushed into her lungs. Her muscles convulsed to breathe again. She must not. Not until the final words were said aloud.
She struggled with her new mouth and tongue while the body around her screamed for air.
As she exhaled, she spoke the words. They were a whisper at first then became a yell.
After pushing her dead body off, she rose. With a flex of her arms, she smiled. “This one will do. Strong, and skilled.” She plunged outside of the cavern within the body of Jeslyn.
Any who saw her, saw Jeslyn. Inside her borrowed body, she carried the skills of the assassin, and her memories.
“Serves you right for disobeying me.” She hummed. One memory flooded over her. Landon told Jeslyn of the Drow Queen wanting to take his teeth. Because of Celeste’s interference, the Queen only took his blood. Otherwise, Landon’s teeth could have been used in an obedience spell.
She’d force the Drows to her plans. Then Landon’s blood added to her potion, to bring his death, for rejecting her and the Warloc. Or maybe she would keep him as a pet, bring as much suffering as she could to his lover.
Her father must be reborn as well. Aye, she would journey past Cape Seyechell to the other side of this land of the dead.
Where was her deadwalker servant, Cradezel? She would need him to navigate their way through this land. Her body buckled under the weight of her magic as she called Cradezel to her, and fetched a boat.
Because of what she must do, she could not afford to use anymore magic until they reached their destination, or the witch might sense it.
In the hands of the abominator, she would reclaim her father. She would become the Warloc’s mother. In less than a year, she would give birth to him, yet he would be as he was before he died. Once he was reborn in the flesh, no one would stop them.
-End-
More from This Author
(From The Garnet Dagger by Andrea R. Cooper)
I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape.
At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything. By observing for eons, I understood and spoke their language. The world of mankind fascinated me. Their hobbled homes burrowed into the ground. Rocks crunched on top one another with thatched roofs woven from straw. Never had I seen a home or inn that was higher than three levels, as if they were afraid of the sky.
I delayed my return to my people as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest. Since I was already late, I hiked uphill to a shortcut rather than take the long path back home. I didn’t need to alert any of my kind near the barrier at this hour. Liana would wonder why I was late. Tonight was the two month anniversary of our hand twining ceremony. One more month as was custom, and then we’d be wed.
A gasp rustled through the trees. The roots shot a warning through to me with stifled caution. Adjusting my pack, I continued on instead of changing back into my Elvin clothes. After I passed the border which kept humans from entering our land, then I’d change.
In the distance, I heard a groan. Curious, I spun in the direction of the sound. The autumn wind breezed through my worn human clothes, chilling me. But someone needed help. I turned in the direction of the sounds.
Whatever made the noise should be a few yards ahead. I hiked slower than my normal speed, so as not to startle whatever human called out. My leather boots crunched upon dried, diseased leaves and bark. Horrified, I glanced up.
Branches twisted around each other to suffocating. Lifeless limbs cracked in the wind. Flesh of the trees sloughed off in layers, exposing its bones. Gashes hollowed out chunks of warmth. Fragments of leaves clung to finger tips, marking sepulchers of the dying trees.
Trees mourned with wails like splitting wood, and I brought my hands over my ears. I must flee before I became infected, they told me.
Flee before the stain of this defilement creeps into you, they warned. Trees spoke to my kind, always had. Yet these trees were in such agony of death that I could not breathe. Felt as though my lungs had folded in on themselves, like a moth unable to break loose from its cocoon.
Nothing I could do for them, and if I lingered too long, whatever disease gnawed upon them may choke me. Where would I go if I carried something so foul as to devour trees from the inside out? I’d never return to Tamlon if I brought this infection with me.
I drew away, but a movement at the base of a decaying tree to my right caught me. My night vision picked up the sight of a human. His sallow face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Poking out from rags lay his arms and legs, which resembled skin stretched over sticks.
So cadaverous was his face, I’d have thought him dead if he hadn’t moved.
“Please,” he said and his voice sounded like cicada’s vibrations, “help me.”
“What ails you in this troubled place?” I wondered if my voice, foreign to my ears in speaking the human’s language, revealed my nature.
“I am lost.” His dark eyes crinkled around the corners. “Without strength to rise. If you would but assist me up, I’ll be on my way.”
I’d never touched a human on purpose before. Was it that that gave me pause, or dread that stilled my heart? My feet itched to flee. As soon as I helped him, then I’d leave. I gritted my teeth and reached a hand down.
His gnarled fingers snapped on my arm, making me wince. Jerking me forward, his face contorted. Surprised by his strength, I fell beside him. Blackness curled around me.
Teeth, fangs, broke through the skin on my neck. Then I knew him for what he was, a vampyre. I struggled in protest. My words trapped in my mind. This shouldn’t happen. I was not human. But I felt my essence slip from me with each sucking sound he made.
I tried in vain to push him off me. I was paralyzed. My joints and muscles locked in place. I couldn’t move. Release. Get away. I screamed again and again in my mind, but my body refused to obey. If I could reach my sword then I’d behead the monster. But my hands, even my fingers, refused to move.
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