Song of the Forever Rains

by Mellow, E. J.

  She gripped the flowers tighter to her chest, their yellow color seeping to gray, and though she tried to be conscious of the passing grains of sand, Larkyra had no sense of how long she had walked.

  It felt as if she’d recently stepped through the stone archway. At the same time it felt like a lifetime ago.

  Larkyra decided she did not like the Fade.

  She peered around, trying to gauge how far she’d walked, but the mist of this world kept any distance undetectable. How would she find her way back?

  “Sticks,” she muttered.

  Larkyra.

  She whipped her head to the left.

  More fog.

  Larkyra.

  The voice grew closer, and though she could not tell if her heart was still beating, if it was, Larkyra knew it would be pumping rather fast.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded muffled.

  Nothing.

  Until—

  The mist gathered tighter, as if pulling itself together to create a form in front of her.

  It was a woman with no discernable body, only illusions of a shoulder, a bare arm, perhaps a leg, all going in and out of the fog. No clothes could be seen as a distinguished face with high cheekbones, full lips, and long colorless hair floating in waves gazed at Larkyra.

  “My songbird,” said the woman with a gentle smile.

  A smile that matched Larkyra’s own.

  “M-Mother?” Larkyra forced her legs to remain strong, when all she wanted was to fall to her knees.

  The woman nodded as achromatic eyes—which Larkyra knew had once been green—glistened.

  They took each other in, the spirit of her mother constantly shifting as Larkyra remained a solid form in her gown and cloak.

  This is real, she thought desperately. She is real.

  “You are so tall,” her mother eventually said, her voice thick moss on a shaded tree.

  “Like you.” The words were out before Larkyra could stop them.

  Another wide grin. “Yes, your father was right. We have much in common.”

  “I—” Her words dried up in her throat. Now that Larkyra was here with the woman she had always wished to meet, had felt such guilt over, spilled tears for, she hardly knew how to feel, what to say. She only knew she felt frantic to be in this moment more than any other she had so far lived. “Here.” Larkyra stuck out the flowers. “Father said they are your favorite.”

  The woman glanced down, more warmth seeping into her gaze. “They are lovely. That man never ceases to charm.”

  Larkyra frowned as Johanna made no move to take them. “Do you not want them?”

  “Nothing can be added to the Fade that is not brought here by death,” she explained. “If I tried to touch them, my hand would go right through.”

  “Oh.” Larkyra pulled the flowers back. “But that means . . .”

  “That I will be unable to hug you?” Johanna’s eyes softened in sorrow. “Yes, my songbird.”

  Larkyra swallowed her disappointment. How torturous this must be for her father upon his visits, unable to hold the woman he loved.

  “But let us be grateful that the lost gods gave us this small mercy of seeing one another.” Johanna seemed to know Larkyra’s thoughts. “For in some worlds, the living can never visit their dead.”

  At the mention of her mother being exactly that, Larkyra lost whatever strength she was using to keep herself together. Dropping the flowers, the blooms disappearing into mist, she covered her face with her hands and wept.

  “Darling.” Her mother’s form moved closer, as if the cloud that contained her attempted to wrap around Larkyra.

  “I’m so sorry,” sobbed Larkyra through her fingers. “I’m so sorry to have put you here.”

  “Stop.” Johanna’s words came out rather strong, and Larkyra blinked up. “The only thing you have done is live the life given to you.”

  “But my scream—”

  “Is not what killed me.”

  This had Larkyra taking a step back. “What?”

  “My child, I was sick when I had you.”

  “Sick?”

  A nod. “I had gone to visit friends in the north, where the weather turned unseasonably cold, and I fell into a severe fever. By the time I returned home, there was a great possibility I might lose you. Achak helped me make a tonic to quicken your arrival, though we both knew it put me at risk. Childbirth is a difficult thing, Larkyra. And while your first screams were filled with much untamed magic, the only thing they did was help ease my pain as I held you in my arms before the Fade took me.”

  Larkyra’s mind swirled with all that she had believed to be true. While no one had ever outright said it was her yell at birth that had killed her mother, she had always assumed. Especially with the rumors and whispers and the destructive magic she could feel brewing inside her, even when she was barely out of the nursery.

  “Your father learned of what I did afterward and was very angry at everyone for a time. He didn’t make his first visit here until you were ten. But I never regretted my decision. How would my daughters become who they were destined to be otherwise?”

  “And who is that?”

  Johanna smiled. “We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Now please, dry your eyes and tell me why you have come, my darling. We have little time left before another year is taken.”

  Putting on a brave face, Larkyra pushed away the mountain of other questions she had for her mother and instead told her all that had happened and what she sought.

  When she was done, Johanna’s form churned before her, her gaze pensive. “You will need to find orenda. It is a rare plant that only grows in one of the smaller southern isles of Esrom.”

  “The hidden underwater kingdom?”

  A nod. “But I fear that is not the difficult part of your task,” added Johanna. “Because it can be used to make people immune to magic for a time, tahopka guard the bloom.”

  Larkyra blanched. “I thought they had been killed off.”

  “Many things thought dead can be found in Esrom.”

  “Tahopka . . .” Larkyra whispered the name again.

  Part woman, part bird, part snake, and an extremely vicious, territorial creature. Legend had it the queen of their kind had decimated an entire city and half her own family when her lover, who was a princess of a neighboring land, had been caught looking a bit too friendly toward her younger sister.

  “Then it is impossible.” Larkyra’s shoulders slumped.

  “No.” Johanna’s hand floated up, a spirit’s touch to Larkyra’s chin. “The road to anything truly worth having is often steep, but think of the view when you get there.”

  Larkyra stared into her mother’s shining gaze, at the power, even in death, that still swam there. “I love you.” The words floated out, free and true.

  Johanna’s responding smile seemed to light their entire world. “I love you.”

  Though they could not hug, the intention surrounded them, the warmth of a mother and daughter who did not need a lifetime together to feel what was real.

  “Now, to complete the elixir,” her mother eventually went on, “tell Achak they will need to gather perryweeds, orange blossoms, and meadow shade from their garden, along with a crushed bit of their toenail. There should be a precise recipe in one of their spell books from Shajara.”

  “How did they not know of this before?”

  “Achak may be wise,” explained her mother ruefully, “but they were always a lazy creature—and sharing one body makes them far too scatterbrained. They relied on me for such details entirely too much.”

  “I’m sure they would love to know you thought them lazy and scattered.” Larkyra grinned.

  “Oh, I told them so.” Her mother laughed, the sound so similar to her own. “On many occasions. But you must go now, my child.” Her mother said what they both knew. “Walk with the intention of leaving, and the stone archway will eventually appear. When you are out, please give your sisters and father a kiss for
me.”

  “I will.” Larkyra nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, my darling.”

  Larkyra readied herself to turn from the mother she had only just met, but a light brush to her shoulder stopped her. “Regarding this Lord Mekenna,” said Johanna, a twinkle in her gaze. “Remember you are brave, my songbird, so do not fear whatever you might feel.”

  A quick unease filled Larkyra’s veins at her mother’s words, a frown of confusion, but before she could press her on the matter, Johanna dissipated, becoming one with the impenetrable fog once more.

  “Well played, Mother,” said Larkyra wryly before she walked to find the exit that would take her away.

  When she stepped back onto the Leaching Bridge, Larkyra blinked a few times to adjust to the light. Though around her was mainly a black abyss, Achak’s floating island, the bridge, and the forest in the distance still seemed large and intrusive after being in a space filled with nothing.

  “Larkyra.” It was Darius who was the first to greet her, stepping away from the group to grab her shoulders, searching her person. “You’re back.” In the next moment she was in his embrace, his arms going around her protectively. “Thank the lost gods.”

  She tensed at first before loosening into his strong hold, deciding she would gladly stay like this for eternity.

  “She was barely gone.” Niya’s voice snapped into their bubble, and they each pulled back.

  Darius cleared his throat. “Yes, well, uh . . .”

  “Did you see her?” asked Arabessa, interrupting the lord’s spluttering.

  “Yes.” Larkyra took in the group. “But first, Father, I have to ask, why did you never tell me my magic is not what killed my mother?”

  Dolion looked shaken by her words. “Is that what you believed was the cause?”

  Larkyra nodded with her swallow, her magic churning hot in her gut. Evidently it did not like to be the blame for anything.

  “Oh, my songbird.” Dolion pulled Larkyra into his arms. “I fear I have failed you, being stuck in my own grief. I never talked to you about her death because I specifically didn’t want you to think you had any part in it. Your gifts could never have hurt your mother. They come from her; all of your powers do.” He looked to her sisters. “You are not to blame. Never to blame. I am so sorry you have believed this for so long.”

  It was as if Larkyra’s entire body melted into her father then; all her tension and guilt and self-berating from the past nineteen years poured from her in a rush. She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh or both.

  “You were the last great piece of magic Johanna ever created.” Her father moved Larkyra so he could look her in the eyes. “Never doubt that.”

  She could only nod, unable to speak for how overwhelmingly bright everything had suddenly become: the colors on her father’s clothes, the very air around them, the feel of her magic. How could the simple act of stringing certain words together change the very shape of a soul? For that was the only way Larkyra could describe what was happening inside her. Her soul was changing, expanding to something new and hopeful and devoid of grief.

  “Thank you, Father,” she eventually pushed herself to say.

  “I love you, my songbird.” He took her into his arms once more. “And so does your mother.”

  “And so do I,” chimed in Arabessa as she joined their hug.

  “And I.” Niya quickly followed. “Despite how annoying you are. Hey! Father, Arabessa pinched me!”

  “Good, then I don’t have to.”

  Larkyra laughed in the center of their tight embrace. Zimri was the last to join as Dolion tugged him into their family’s circle.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Achak’s voice had Niya stepping back after attempting to pull them in as well.

  Darius stood off to the side, his gaze holding a curious longing as he took in their group. Larkyra’s chest ached for him, for if anyone deserved the love of a family, it was he.

  Perhaps I can provide that, a very quiet voice inside her whispered.

  Larkyra blinked, startled at her own thought. Quickly she pushed it down, locking it back up tightly. There was much still to do. Such a feeling had no place here.

  “So what did Mother say?” asked Niya, pulling her attention back. “Did she have a solution for us?”

  “Yes,” said Larkyra. “But I fear you especially will not like it.”

  “Me?” Niya frowned. “Why’s that?”

  “Because,” said Larkyra, “we’ll need the help of a certain pirate lord from Esrom.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The waves lapped rhythmically around their small boat, the Obasi Sea a warm orange in the dipping sunset. A flock of seagulls flew overhead as thin strips of cottony clouds painted the sky. Larkyra sat with her sisters and Darius, realizing how very lucky they were to have the Thief King on their side—especially since they were searching for the man who took pride in remaining the most elusive ship’s captain on any water.

  “I still do not understand why this is necessary,” grumbled Niya as she pulled on her gold mask, fluffing out her dark cloak.

  Darius shifted to give her more room on his bench.

  “Given that we have explained it over a dozen times,” said Arabessa from where she sat beside Larkyra, each already adorned in their matching Mousai disguises, “I do not see how that is possible.”

  “But surely there must be someone else from Esrom that we could ask to get us there.”

  “Surely,” agreed Arabessa. “But do you know of any?”

  “Michel,” offered Niya.

  “Killed in a scraps derby.”

  “Nätasha.”

  “Imprisoned last week.”

  “Haphris?”

  “Imprisoned this week.”

  Niya huffed. “The people of Esrom need to get their acts together.”

  “Or play their cards smarter, like the man we’re about to see.”

  “I would hardly associate the word smart with him.”

  “And how exactly will we find this pirate?” Darius interrupted Niya’s pout, his new red leather mask shining under his hooded cloak as it caught the sunset.

  “The same way we got here so quickly,” explained Larkyra.

  “Yes, well, considering I still do not understand that . . .”

  “You and Niya sure make a confused pair.” Arabessa pulled out a small coin from her cloak’s pocket. The portal token was rimmed in a gold similar to the one Larkyra had used, but the middle swirled a milky white. “It will be hard to miss him with this.”

  With a prick, some blood, and a whispered secret—one that had Larkyra and Niya leaning in to try to hear—Arabessa threw the coin up. It paused right before it fell below the waves, opening a large portal to another part of the sea, one that sat beneath a starry sky and full moon, an impressive black ship silhouetted in its light.

  “Now take up an oar and row,” instructed Arabessa, grabbing the one beside her. “We mustn’t be late in being captured.”

  The Crying Queen was said to be one of the most spectacular vessels in Aadilor. With three square-rigged masts for greater sailing power, a narrow but lengthy hull giving it maneuverability, and room to carry sixteen cannons, it was a ship thirsted after by many pirates and kingdoms alike. What kept it from being overtaken lay solely in its master and the deplorable crew it contained.

  Which was why, by the time their small boat was netted and reeled in and they were thrown on deck and shoved into the pirate lord’s cabin, their hands bound, Larkyra was beginning to question their plan.

  Alōs Ezra sat behind a massive mahogany desk, framed by standing candelabras and latticed glass windows that looked out upon calm waters and a low-hanging moon. The pirate’s black-clad form seemed to pull in the shadows around him as his dark, handsome face and burning turquoise eyes drank them in. When he shifted to lean into his chair, his coat strained against his muscles.

  “And here I thought we were to have a peaceful evenin
g.” His deep voice washed over Larkyra, mixing with his magic. She could feel it claiming the compartment, the ship. Mine, his powers seemed to vibrate. All this is mine, and soon you will be too. Larkyra held in a shiver as Alōs’s gaze stuck on Niya, who stood in the middle.

  Her difference in height always marked her as the Mousai who danced her magic.

  “We tried removin’ their masks, Cap’n,” said one of the men who had dragged them in. He was a lanky creature with exactly four strands of hair clinging to his head. “But they wants to stay put, like they’re glued. Nottin’ seemin’ to be done about it.”

  “That is fine, Prik,” said Alōs. “I do not need to see their faces to know them. Well, perhaps I would for you.” He regarded Darius beside Larkyra. “Unless you’re the man who always follows this trio?” The pirate lord closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “No. You haven’t the gifts.”

  Larkyra could feel Darius tense beside her, could tell he was straining to keep his promise and remain silent no matter what. Lord Ezra was a clever snake—every word he spoke contained layers of meaning and revelation.

  “I would ask your men to give us privacy,” said Arabessa.

  “Would you now?” Alōs steepled his fingers. “And why is that, eldest of the Mousai?”

  Larkyra swallowed her shock that he would know such a thing. They had been around the nefarious man for many years, but never in any truly intimate way, at least none that she knew. Alōs sharing such knowledge was another card displayed for a reason.

  Careful what stories you tell, my pets, for I likely know more.

  “Have them leave and not place ears by keyholes if you want to find out,” challenged Arabessa.

  The pirate lord remained quiet, pensive, before waving a hand.

  Without protest, his crew shuffled out of the cabin, the door latching shut on its own.

  Alōs gazed at them, waiting for their part of the agreement to be met.

  “We need passage to Esrom, without trouble or detection, tonight,” said Arabessa.

  An upward tick to the pirate’s dark brow. “All things that are a hanging offense and close to an impossible task.”

  “A regular night for you,” accused Niya.