It seems there is more interest in sunsets than sunrises.
Eena, The Two Sisters - Book IV
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Book Four in the Harrowbethian Saga
It seems there is more interest in sunsets than sunrises.
Chapter One
Eena
opened her eyes to darkness. She could smell the rain outside, even hear the
pitter-patter of raindrops as they splashed against the glass door. She was in
bed, dressed in something silky, feeling comfortable beneath a layer of downy
covers. Her head wasn’t propped up by a pillow but supported by a sturdy thigh.
A familiar touch traced her jawbone, curving around her ear and then back to
the tip of her chin. The pattern was repeated as if memorized.
Despite
these distractions, it was the sound of humming that captured her awakening
attention—a deep, clear, soft voice mixed with the periodic mumbling of lyrics.
She recognized the tune from Earth, a consoling melody Derian had sung to her
before.
“Abide
with me fast falls the eventide.”
The
muttered line was followed by humming…
…until
he reached the end.
“Help
of the helpless, O abide with me.”
The
words seemed written specifically for her. The helpless. That’s who she was. That’s
who they all were—mortals: destructible, weak, and helpless.
Her
breathing quavered audibly, and the music ceased.
“Eena?”
Derian
leaned over her, checking for open eyes. She squeezed them shut, aware that her
movement against his leg would give her away. His hand covered her cheek,
warming it while a thumb tenderly brushed her skin. She knew this move. Derian,
her promised one, frequently used it to calm her. She succumbed to his caress,
permitting herself to relax at his magic touch.
“Go
to sleep,” he whispered, “It’s still nighttime.”
Without
effort she slipped back into her dreams, but they were no longer carefree and
happy. Ian—her protector both in the real world and inside her dreams—was
missing.
The
crooked trees of Lacsar Forest appeared fascinating and yet eerie in the way
their dark forms conjured up imagery of contorted creatures with outreaching
claws. The forest resembled a mobbing of monsters, fixed and patient, awaiting
the approach of some unsuspecting victim. When a breeze blew through the
treetops, those warped branches leaned over as though stretching to grasp at
prey. The congestion of trees made it difficult to see far ahead. In this
place, it was easy for Eena’s imagination to run wild.
She
ambled aimlessly, keeping close to a hint of a dirt trail. The silence of the
night unfortunately was not peaceful. The spell from the dragon’s kiss had worn
off—a temporary spell used to replace sorrowful memories with sweet dreams—and
her awareness of the recent tragedy had returned.
Angelle
was dead. Drowned while alone at the river.
Worry
dominated Eena’s thoughts. She was concerned for Ian who had only recently been
reunited with the victim, a woman to whom he had been promised in childhood. Eena’s
heart bled for Ian, dreading the upcoming funeral. She also sorrowed for his
parents and for Angelle’s only surviving family member, a sister named
Nischeen. She could hear her earthly father’s voice echoing a truth from her
youth: “Hey,
honey, life’s not fair. Get used to it.” But this seemed to delve far
beneath “unfair,” mocking her present challenges with the death of an innocent
girl. It was a brutal sucker punch.
Eena
inhaled deeply, an attempt to feel something on the inside other than the
acidic, searing pain burning through her guts. She hurt. Her head, her stomach,
her heart, even the marrow of her bones seemed to ache within every limb. Ian
hurt too—horribly. She could sense it through the mental connection they
shared. There was no remedy for a broken heart, however. None her charmed
necklace, the dragon’s soul, could offer.
She
felt both helpless and useless.
Tormented
by these burdens, she tried to cease thinking altogether. Perhaps concentrating
on nothing might lessen the pain. Her feet stopped on the dirt trail where she
rested at the base of a tree, slipping down against the trunk to the ground. Her
eyes fell closed as she breathed in through her nose, attempting to clear her
mind by imagining a blank slate. Absolute nothingness. Just empty, black,
miserable, lonely, grim… Okay, that wasn’t working.
Refocusing,
she went the opposite direction. A blank slate. A clean sheet of paper. Unblemished,
bright, white, a wedding dress, marriage and babies, too young, can’t breathe… Crud,
white wasn’t the right color to think about. She could hear the anxious voices
of the council pressuring her to marry and produce an heir. No, no, what other
color was there? A cheery color.
Pink.
Yes,
pink was good. Pink was sweet.
Another
deep breath and everything melted into a puddle of pink. Pretty, plain pink. Warm,
cheerful, friendly, girly, like a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket. Gaila’s
handmade baby blanket. Unan and Gaila—Ian’s parents who blamed her for the
death of their son’s sweetheart, poor Angelle…
“Ugh!”
she screamed out loud. Her arms sandwiched her head as she hunkered down
against the twisted tree trunk. “Stop it! Stop thinking!”
Out
of the air a whisper touched her ear, calling her.
“Sha
Eena…”
The
young queen looked up. She heard her name repeated.
“Sha
Eena…”
It
was a dainty, feminine tone.
“Sha
Eena? Can you help me?” the voice asked. It sounded nearly childlike.
Eena
pushed away from the tree, glancing around, searching for the person in need of
help. Finding no one, she replied to the voice.
“Where
are you?”
Eena
froze when the ghostly image of Angelle materialized before her.
“Sha
Eena?” the vision spoke. Angelle’s eyes widened, as if surprised and yet
relieved at recognizing her queen. Her hand rose, reaching out for assistance
when she suddenly disappeared.
Eena’s
heartbeat thundered in her chest. She rubbed at her eyes, unsure and afraid. Her
voice cracked as she stammered out the name in question.
“A..A..Angelle?”
A
lucent image of the late young woman reappeared—a pleasing likeness of Ian’s
promised one, more radiant than in life.
Eena
gasped.
The
ghostly form blurred into an unrecognizable blob, changing shape. Youthful
beauty dissolved and reformed into a repulsive sight—that of the immortal
witch, Anesidora. The apparition cackled with wicked amusement.
“Mortals,”
the specter sneered. “Predictable, vulnerable… and pathetically gullible.”
Eena’s
eyes dropped to the ground. She felt tears swell within her cheeks. What a
heartless joke, so indicative of Ishtura and Anesidora’s tormenting ways. Eena
squeezed her eyelids shut. This is what she would be releasing on the universe
if her actions continued to serve these awful sisters.
“You’re
wasting precious time, Amora. I want the remaining pieces to Pallador’s
platform. You’ve uncovered four star points, more than halfway there, but your
job is not yet done. Now get to work and find the three remaining.”
Eena
scowled, looking up at the demanding spirit. It did no good to refuse the
title, Amora; the immortals had branded her as such. It did no good refusing
her help to these awful sisters given how her will always seemed to bend to
their bidding despite every attempt to resist. She would continue to fight
nonetheless.
“I
can’t help you. Your brother sent me home, and unless the next star point is
hidden in Harrowbeth, I’m in no position to find it.”
Anesidora
huffed disgustedly. “Your detour to Harrowbeth is because of my brother’s
pathetic weakness for you mortal females.” The ghost looked Eena up and down
with distaste. “It’s hard to believe he’s affected by such an ordinary girl.”
Eena
clenched her jaw at the insult.
“Don’t
stand there thinking you’re special. So what if he submitted to your pitiful
pleas? You’re not his first conquest and you most certainly will not be his
last.”
“I
really don’t care because I can’t stand the scoundrel anyway.”
Anesidora
snorted on a burst of laughter. “You will succumb like all the others. No woman
has ever resisted the charms of Edgarmetheus for long. Eventually, he will have
you.”
“It
will never happen,” Eena vowed.
The
ghost rolled her misshapen eyes at the sky, taking the time to gloat. “And you
will never find the star points for us, and you will never assist in attaining our
freedom, and your useless mortal friends will never die.” She smiled an evil, twisted grin.
“I
hate you.”
The
witch rushed forward, her movement a blur. Her ghastly face stopped inches
before Eena’s. “I don’t care how you feel. All I care about is you doing what
you were born to do.”
Eena
couldn’t keep from stumbling backwards out of fear. She cursed herself for the
lapse of courage because any display of cowardice worked to inflate the
immortal’s haughty ego. Eena forced herself to stand tall and spit out a
retort.
“I
was not born to…”
But
Anesidora wouldn’t allow any backtalk. She spoke over the girl. “You were given
our immortal gene for one reason—to withstand the powers of the dragon’s soul
and then use that gift to free us. That is the only reason you exist!”
Eena
cringed. She bumped against an outstretched arm that pulled her in
unexpectedly. Her protector, Ian, appeared at her side. Eena sucked in a gasp,
surprised to see him returned to her dreams.
“Leave
her alone, you ugly hag, and get out of her dreams! You don’t belong here!”
Eena
stared with incredulity at Ian. His outburst was a bold, perhaps stupid, move. She
looked to Anesidora with concern. The specter actually backed up, but a flicker
of anger tightened her features before shifting into a sly smirk.
“When
I am free,” she said, “restored to my beautiful body and full powers, you two
will pay dearly for your impudence.”
Ian
didn’t hesitate with a ruthless response. “You will never be beautiful, and you
will never be free.”
The
young queen was the only one to flinch at Anesidora’s cry of anguish—a shriek
that lingered when she vanished. Eena couldn’t believe the calm bravery of her
protector standing up to that witch. Still in his arms, she leaned against him
and whispered a thank you.
“Sure,
sure.” He released her and turned away as if he too would disappear.
“Ian,
please don’t go.”
He
froze for a moment, refusing to look back. “I need to be alone, Eena. I
wouldn’t be much good to you right now.”
“You
were of great value to me just now.”
He
didn’t budge or reply.
“Ian…”
she began. She dreaded asking the question on her mind, and swallowed hard
before proceeding. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
She
felt his reply was curt, and wondered if it was truthful. He vanished before
she could ask.
Sinking
to the ground, Eena once again succumbed to tears.
“Good
morning.”
Her
eyes flickered open at the gentle nudge of her promised one. It was strange how
waking up felt more peaceful than sleep. It seemed backwards. But that was
probably the case with most nightmares.
In a
dry voice, she repeated his “good morning” back to him Her head left the warmth
of his thigh; he must have sat up in bed all night supporting her. She wondered
if he had dozed off at all.
He
asked her first. “Did you sleep well?”
“No,
not really,” she answered truthfully. Scooting back against the headboard
beside him, she noted his tired look of concern.
“I
thought the dragon’s kiss was supposed to put you into a peaceful sleep,” he
said.
“Oh,
it did at first. But when the spell wore off, I had nightmares. I dreamt that
Angelle was still alive, calling to me for help.”
The
captain sighed sadly and placed a hand on her cheek. Eena took his fingers in
her own and tried smiling to reassure him. “I’m alright, Derian.”
Raising
their clasped hands, he motioned to the ring on her finger. The two green gems
set in a gold figure eight were referred to as the dragon’s kiss. “Maybe I
should use this ring to put you to sleep every night so you don’t suffer from
more nightmares.”
She
reclaimed her ring hand quickly. “No. I already owe you for using it on me
once.”
“I
only did it to stop your suffering.” He stroked her hair, his thumb rubbing
softly against her cheekbone. “Besides, I’ve experienced its power a few
times.”
She
twisted her head to look up at him with surprise. “You have?”
“Oh
yes,” he admitted. “Your mother had a ring much like that one, only the gems
were yellow. When I was a child, she would kiss the ring and then my forehead,
usually when I was brooding over the loss of my mother. I had no idea what she
was doing at first. It wasn’t until the third or fourth occasion that I put the
ring and the dreams together. Never before had I enjoyed such pleasant,
peaceful dreams. Sha Tashi pressing that ring to her lips was always the last
thing I recalled before waking up with a smile.”
“So
you knew this ring’s purpose all along?”
“I
guessed as much, but I wasn’t aware you had possession of that ring when you
were kissing Ian. I just assumed…”
“I
know what you assumed, Derian.”
“Yes,
well… anyway. I think I got your mother in trouble over the whole thing. I was
talking to Shen Laynn once, and I told him about how wonderful my dreams were
after Sha Tashi used that magic ring on me. He insisted I explain myself, and
that was the end of it all. The ring suddenly disappeared.”
“Oh,
Derian,” Eena groaned. So he was the real reason the “girls’ nights out” had
come to an end. A young Derian had spoiled her mother’s fun without realizing
it.
The
captain kept on talking as if he were caught up in the memory. “After your
mother put me to sleep with that gem, I remember waking up in my own bed the
next morning having no idea how I had come to be there. But my slumber was
peaceful, attached to wonderful, realistic visions. Visions in which I spent
hours with my own mother—happy and at ease. It was like having her with me
again. I could touch her skin, hear her voice, laugh and play right along with
her. It was wonderful, and yet when I awoke and eventually realized she was
gone… it was heartbreaking.”
Eena
rubbed his arm sympathetically.
“The
dreams were amazing. Utter bliss. Always exactly what I wanted.” He turned his
distant eyes on her and asked, “What did you dream of last night?”
“Uh…”
she hesitated. It wouldn’t sit well for her to admit she had dreamt of a day
spent on the oceanfront with Ian; the truth would only feed Derian’s jealousy. Thinking
quickly, she said, “I… dreamt of Earth—a day on the beach. The ocean was
beautiful. It was a weekend my parents had taken me there.”
“That’s
nice,” he smiled. “You must miss those days.”
“I
do.”
Knowing
how unproductive it would be to venture down that road, she inhaled deeply and
focused on the day ahead. “I should get cleaned up.”
Derian
threw his legs over the side of the bed while Eena scooted to the edge. That’s
when she noticed her bare arms.
“What
happened to my bracelet?”
“It’s
with your other jewelry. Livette, your assistant, put it away when she dressed
you.”
“I
have an assistant?”
“Of
course you do, Eena.” The captain looked amused by her surprise. “You’ve hardly
been home for her to attend to your needs, but I called on her to prepare you
for bed yesterday.” Adding a flirtatious wink, he said, “I would have done it
myself had there been no witnesses.”
Eena
elbowed him, blushing at his shameless grin.
“Do
you know what Livette failed to find on you?” Derian asked and then answered
his own question. “Your new PCD.” He arched a critical eyebrow, waiting for an
explanation.
“Edgar
took it from me.”
“I’ll
get you another one.”
“Why
bother? Edgar will just take that one too.”
Eena
hopped out of bed to head for the bathroom but was stopped when Derian grabbed
her by the hand. He turned her palm upwards and placed a folded piece of paper
on it.
“This
was in your pocket. I thought you might like to have it.”
She
smiled down at a hand-written letter that contained sappy, youthful sentiment. The
captain had written it for her ages ago. “Thank you, Derian.”
“Would
you care to have Livette assist you this morning?”
Eena
shook her head. She felt guilty knowing the position had been promised to the
late Angelle. It seemed wrong to allow someone else to assume it so soon after
the tragedy of her death. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
Derian
bowed deep at the waist—a grand, playful gesture. “As you wish, my queen.”
Eena
was aware he was trying to be cheery for her sake. It was sweet of him. She
managed a smile to show her appreciation.
A
hot shower detained the young queen for a good amount of time. Every muscle in
her body surrendered to the therapeutic effects of massaging ionic liquids that
seemed to wash away not only a layer of grime but an accrual of physical aches
and pains. Too bad it was incapable of doing the same for sorrows. Eena wished
for a magical shower charmed with dragon stones, one that could rinse away
despair and anguish and all miseries. She daydreamed of such a thing where a
person could pass through an enchanted waterfall and obtain relief from every
sadness. The tragedies of life would evaporate, leaving only pleasant memories.
No pain. No suffering. No heartache.
It
was a desirous and tempting fantasy, but it wouldn’t bring Angelle back.
Eena
recalled her own near-death experience, nearly drowning in the cold river of
the Semmian Rainforest. Had she not touched the star point in time, her life
would have ended beneath those icy waters. All the while, Ian had stood on the
shoreline unable to help. Had he been with Angelle when she drowned, it likely
would have amounted to the same situation.
Eena
quickly ceased her trail of thought, afraid of Ian reading her mind. The images
would only make him feel worse. She sensed his mental presence, but he didn’t
seem to react to the notions in her head. It was understandable; he would be
absorbed in his own thoughts.
Stepping
out of the shower, Eena noticed a change of clothing set out for her. She
smiled, touched by Derian’s constant consideration of her needs. The gown
hanging on the bathroom door resembled one he had chosen on a previous
occasion: their first breakfast in the commissary on the captain’s ship, the Kemeniroc. The dress was tawny in
color with a chiffon skirt and billowy shoulders. It took her back to their
first days together when his brother, Gemdorin, had posed their greatest
threat. In memory he seemed less foreboding—a mortal, able to die like the rest
of them. Unlike her present adversaries. If only a mortal enemy were her greatest present
challenge; she might feel she stood a chance.
Eena
dressed herself, stewing over these thoughts until her fears threatened to
swallow her up. There was no way to stop immortals. No tactic or trickery
existed to prevent Anesidora and Ishtura from forcing her to do their bidding. They
would trap her. Fool her. Coerce her into doing whatever they wanted—just as
they had up to this point. And in the end, when her services were no longer
needed, Edgar’s horrible sisters would finish her off, making her pay for her
insolence as promised. Ascultone’s portended vision only supported this truth. Unless…
unless she agreed to Edgar’s proposal.
Derian
responded to a muted sound of sobbing. He tapped lightly on the door.
“Eena?
Eena, are you alright?” The captain waited for a response. Hearing none, he
tapped once more before announcing, “I’m coming in.”
Slowly,
the door creaked open allowing time for an objection. When he peeked inside, he
saw his queen on the edge of the tub crying into her hands. He tried to urge
her up.
“Come
with me, Eena. Let’s go sit in the other room.”
“Why?”
she sobbed. “What does it matter if I sit here or there or in the middle of
some frozen, forsaken island? My fate will be the same. I can’t stop them,
Derian, I have no way to beat them. They’ve won.”
He
took a seat next to his weeping sweetheart and brushed aside the hairs that
hung forward in her face. “The game isn’t over, Eena.”
“Yes,
it is.” She let her hands fall into her lap and turned her glistening eyes on
him. “There’s no way I can win this.”
“So,
that’s it? You’re just going to give up? You’re ready to forfeit?”
“They’ve
already won, can’t you see that?” Her eyes were earnest and heavy with despair
as she spelled out the impossible odds. “Anesidora controls the necklace,
Derian—I don’t. She controls whether I come or go. She plays me like a puppet,
forcing me to gather up those star points against my will. She even controls
Naga against his will…”
Eena
stopped suddenly. Her thoughts had been so plagued with tragedy, she had
forgotten a wonderful fact: her new ring was set with Naga’s dragon stones, and
she owned the ring! Her focus shifted to the band adorning her finger. She
was fast to her feet and pulled her captain along with her, fueled by a tiny
spark of hope.
“Come
on, Derian, you have to take me somewhere.”
They
rushed down the back steps of Lacsar Castle and boarded a shuttle. The captain
assumed the pilot’s chair while Eena fell into the seat beside him. She
whispered only two words. “Gemdorin’s treasure.” That was all she dared say
aloud.
Derian
nodded his understanding. Five minutes later he set the shuttle down outside a
large warehouse, fenced of and guarded on all sides by Harrowbethian patrols. As
head of security, Kahm Derian was granted immediate access.
Inside
the warehouse, Eena first took notice of a high ceiling that extended far off,
disappearing into a dark, indiscernible void. Her eyes naturally moved
downward, landing on tall rows of shelving that reached back into the same
gloomy shadows. There were numerous shelves laden with boxes, each one clearly
stamped in bold, sequential numerals. The contents associated with each
number-code were, no doubt, kept on file somewhere.
Eena
started towards the left end of the building, determined to find the item she
needed, when Derian grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in the opposite
direction. He didn’t slow his steps until they were standing before the
furthest row of shelves that lined the right-side wall.
“Gemdorin’s
things are all here,” he said. “They’re organized by origin, then by function,
at least as far as initial observation suggests.”
Eena
looked intently at her captain for a moment, wishing she could talk to him
telepathically the way she could with Ian. The possibility of Edgar
eavesdropping kept her from voicing her intentions out loud; she didn’t want to
risk the immortal’s intrusion. He was certain to make an appearance sooner or
later, but her hope was he would fail to show until considerably
later—preferably never.
Derian
grabbed a small box from off the shelf as if he meant to examine its contents,
even without knowing what he was searching for. Eena spit out a crucial
warning. “If you see what looks like a beetle, don’t touch it. It’s deadly.”
The
box in his hands fell to the floor as though it had caught fire. “Criminy,
Eena,” he grumbled. “I guess that’s good to know.”
The
captain watched with interest as she passed up every carton without bothering
to check for contents. She scanned the bottom shelves first, moving quickly
from one container to the next. Catching how she peered for just a moment
inside the larger crates, Derian made a quick assumption—she was searching for
something big. He hustled to the very end of the row where a line of high
crates stood too tall to sit on the shelves.
“Eena,”
he called, waving her over. “How about these?”
He
caught the grin on her lips when she let the lid fall from the skinniest
package. Her hand reached over the edge in a circular waving motion. Derian
peered inside, crinkling his forehead at what appeared to be nothing more than
a flat-topped podium etched with consecutively larger circles. He gasped when a
ray of light shot up from the very center. His eyes followed the beam to where
a transparent, three-dimensional replica of their galaxy hung overhead—planets,
stars, moons, and other celestial bodies floating within a spiral-shaped
galaxy.
“What
in the world…?”
Eena
didn’t offer any information, focusing on the task at hand. “Show me the
Alaheron System,” she ordered aloud.
They
were instantly staring at an exact replica of their own planetary system. Derian
reached up to touch the fourth aqua-blue sphere orbiting a bright yellow sun. His
fingers slipped through the tiny planet as it rotated slowly on its axis.
“Moccobatra,”
he whispered.
“Yes,”
Eena agreed.
Hearing
her respond to him, he turned his attention on her. “How did you make this
thing work? It hasn’t reacted to anyone’s touch, not even mine.”
“It’s
an immortal navigational device. It only works for them.”
His
brow showed substantial worry at her announcement. “You’re not an immortal,
Eena.”
“I
know,” she agreed, “but I have their gene, remember?”
“Right.
Of course.” That made sense.
She
went on to explain further. “I discovered this device on Gemdorin’s ship. He
couldn’t make it work either. I never told him I could. I figured out that it’s
a comprehensive map of the entire universe. I believe only the immortals could
have put such a thing together; no one else would possess that amount of
knowledge.”
With
concern etched on her face, she turned to the back wall of the building and
eyed the available space between the end shelving and the rear wall. There was
an open area, and the ceiling seemed high enough. She hoped it would suffice.
After
a “here-goes-nothing” inhale, she voiced aloud, “Naga! Dragon, show yourself!”
To
her delight and the captain’s astonishment, the space filled up with the huge
body of a beast armored in scales. The dragon’s long neck was too high for the
elevated ceiling, so it crooked forward. His mismatched eyes stared down at the
woman who had summoned him.
“You
came!” Eena squealed with joy, sobering almost instantly afterward. “I have
your ring—your dragon stones.” She showed him. “This means you must answer to
me.”
Naga
nodded once.
“Talk
to me then,” she commanded.
The
great beast sadly closed his eyes. His head swung regrettably back and forth.
“But
I command you to!” Eena argued. “You must do it!”
Like
a slithering snake, the dragon’s muzzle slipped through the air toward the
captain. Derian’s eyes widened as he stepped back from an enormous, looming
snout.
“Eena?”
he questioned with obvious concern.
“Naga,
I have your ring! You must do…”
Derian
lifted a halting palm as the creature faced him eye to eye. Eena watched them
stare at one another.
“Naga?”
she uttered.
“He
says he can’t speak to you because Anesidora forbids it. He’s obligated to keep
her command because she gave it first.”
“He’s
actually talking to you?” Noticeable envy permeated the question.
“Yes,”
Derian nodded, “in my head. It’s unreal.”
“Can
he contact Pallador?” Eena asked the captain. Her focus shifted to Naga. “Can
you tell Pallador I’m in trouble?”
Derian
answered for the dragon. “He can’t.”
“What
about Wennergren or any of the other immortals?”
“Sorry,
Eena. He can’t do that either. He’s forbidden to contact any of the immortals
concerning you.”
She
was disappointed but had guessed this might be the case. “Will you at least
tell me this… in what system and on what planet does Pallador reside? Where can
I find him myself?”
Her
anxious eyes searched Naga’s face as he focused on the captain. Like most
immortals, his expression was difficult to read. After what felt like forever,
Derian answered. “He says their planet is called Laradine. It’s in the Dranobbi
System, located on the edge of our galaxy.”
Turning
back to the podium Eena ordered the navigator, “Show me Laradine in the
Dranobbi system.”
Three-dimensional
images zoomed in on one arm of the spiraled galaxy, clear to the tip of a
finger. There, a planetary system with only three orbiting planets came into
focus. The trio moved around an enormous white star. The furthest planet from
the sun was giant in size compared to the other two and seemed to shine above
the others as if singled out. Coils of vaporous gases circled this red marble,
giving it the illusion of a cloak of golden rings. Eena gazed with wonder and
excitement at Pallador’s homeworld.
And
then it disappeared.
For
a second she assumed the device had shut itself off, but the white star
continued to shine with two tiny planets orbiting it closely. Only Laradine was
missing.
“What
happened?” she asked, scanning the display.
Before
Derian could answer in Naga’s behalf, the red marble reappeared.
“It’s
back,” Eena breathed with relief. She gasped when the entire Dranobbi system
vanished. This time it had been shut off. Her eyes lowered to find the
culprit. Edgar stood beside the podium, his blue gaze focused only on her. His
expression was unmistakably disapproving.
“Have
you lost your mind entirely, Amora?” He seemed more annoyed than angry, leaning
against the skinny crate with a hand on his hip. She wished it had taken a
little longer for him to appear, certain he would now forbid any further
questioning of the dragon.
As
soon as Edgar spoke, Naga raised his neck as high as the building allowed. A
snort of smoke traveled along the ceiling. The overgrown lizard retreated to
the rear wall and waited with a disgruntled rumble in his gut. Meanwhile, Edgar
continued scolding the young queen.
“Do
you have some sort of suicidal death wish?”
“No,”
she snapped, her eyes wide with shock.
The
immortal huffed in indignation and approached her. “I can only protect you from
so much. Anesidora will not like what you’ve done here.”
“But
I’ve done nothing.”
“You
discovered Pallador’s home!”
“So
what? I can’t do anything about it,” she argued.
Edgar
raised a skeptical eyebrow, regarding her sternly. “And neither can any of your
friends.” The immortal shot a glance at the captain as he announced, “There
will be no outgoing transmissions or ships departing this planet until Amora
has completed her work. Is that clear?”
Derian
said nothing. In response to the captain’s refusal to answer, Edgar reinforced
his threat.
“If
an attempt is made to contact Pallador, my dear captain, there will be deadly
consequences. Irreversible consequences. Is that
clear?”
Met
with silence again, Edgar raised his voice to repeat the question loudly. “Is that clear?
Struggling
to suppress his anger, Derian scrunched his eyes and grumbled an affirmative
yes. Eena stepped in between the two before tempers had a chance to flare.
“Just
leave him alone, Edgar.”
Her
immortal watchdog softened his demeanor immediately. He tried to catch her eye,
but she glanced aside, avoiding prolonged eye contact. Like a gust of wind,
Edgar closed the gap and covered her silky, red hair with his hands.
“Oh,
my sweet Amora,” he cooed.
Derian
reacted instantly, lunging at the man. “You get your hands off…!”
His
words were cut short. He appeared to halt mid-sentence, immobilized. It was
exactly like Muhra Aing’s frozen appearance when Edgar had sped up time for
only Eena and himself. She glanced at Naga to see if he too was motionless, but
the dragon’s eyes blinked and she understood that only Derian had been left to
stall in real time.
Edgar
stroked her cheek. She swatted his hand aside.
“Stop
touching me. And stop tormenting Derian.”
“Me?”
Edgar gaped at her with a clearly fake look of innocence.
“Yes,
you.”
“And
what about you? When will you stop
tormenting him?” Edgar moved past the young queen to approach the unmoving
captain. He circled the man as though he were checking out a statue on display
“I’m
not tormenting him; why would you say that?”
“You
have the poor guy believing you actually intend to marry him.” Edgar stopped to
fix the captain’s collar, raising it up high and stiff around his neck.
“I do
intend to marry him.” Eena followed her immortal watchdog and folded down the
captain’s collar, repositioning it as it had been.
“Oh
please,” Edgar groaned. “You’ve had two opportunities to do so, and on both
occasions you turned him down.” Edgar elevated the captain’s elbow—adjusting
him like a mannequin—leaving it in an awkward position. “The council expressed
a desire for you to marry, and you nearly hyperventilated over the mere
suggestion. And just recently, due to his own paranoia, Derian all but begged
you to marry him. Your refusal couldn’t have been more swift or more adamant.”
Eena
returned the captain’s elbow to his side as she retorted, “I’m only seventeen,
Edgar! I have no desire to marry anyone right now. But when I am ready,
Derian will be my husband.”
Edgar
took hold of the captain’s outreaching arm and shoved it forcefully down. “He
will not.”
“He
will so!” Eena raised the arm back to where it had been and warned her rival,
“Don’t touch him again, Edgarmetheus!”
“Fine,
fine,” the immortal ceded. Then with a smug grin he added, “If this had been
Ian, you would never have let me touch him in the first place.”
“That
is not true! I know what you’re doing, Edgar—I’m onto you.”
He
laughed out loud, “You’re onto me? Oh, Amora, if you would like to climb onto
me I’d be most accommodating.”
“You’re
disgusting.”
“I’m
simply trying to help.”
“Help
who? Your sordid self?”
“No,
no. I’m trying to help you—to make you face the truth about your feelings.”
“The
truth is I love Derian,” she maintained. “I’m not in love with Ian, and I wish
you would quit insinuating that I am!” She pointed at the captain. “Derian is
my love.” Her finger waved in the air, gesturing nowhere in particular. “Ian is
my best friend whom I care for deeply, yes, but that’s all.” Finally, her rigid
finger landed in Edgar’s face. “And you—you are nothing but a filthy jerk!”
“Tsk,
tsk.” He shook his head disappointedly, pushing her finger aside. “Why do they
always insult the messenger?”
“Maybe
because the messenger is always a jerk!”
His
countenance hardened in an instant, serious and severe in expression. “Let me
warn you, Amora, if you continue to defy Anesidora so blatantly, you won’t live
long enough to marry anyone.”
“I’ve
done nothing wrong,” she repeated, unable to conceal every trace of justifiable
apprehension.
“You
summoned Naga. Had the beast been able to, you would have sent him after
Pallador.”
“It’s
no secret that I don’t want your sisters freed.”
“And
it’s no secret they have warned you of consequences for defying them.”
She
was painfully aware of that fact. It worried her. Lifting her lashes, she dared
to meet Edgar’s gaze straight on. “Don’t tell them. Don’t say anything about
what happened here. They only know what you tell them.”
Edgar
grinned roguishly. He moved cautiously closer, drawing her in with his magnetic
stare. “You think you have it all figured out. You think I care so much for you
that I would keep secrets from my sisters.” His hand reached to rest against
her face as she continued to drown deeper in the blue of his eyes.
“No,”
she managed to utter, “I… I don’t… I don’t know…”
Her
breathing quickened when he pulled her into his arms. “Kiss me, Amora, and I
won’t tell.”
He
blinked and she lowered her eyelids, forcing her gaze away. With her head
bowed, hair hiding her face, she carefully brought the ring to her lips,
pressing it against her mouth before looking up at Edgar again.
“Okay,”
she agreed. “One small kiss. Only one.”
He
smiled wide at her quick willingness to agree, his countenance glowing like the
noonday sun.
Taking
hold of his chin, she turned his face to let him know her intention was merely
a peck on the cheek, but when she went to kiss him, he rotated at the last
second to meet her lips. He took advantage of her, his hands on either side of
her face, keeping their lips pressed together. She squealed in her throat, a
strong objection. When he pulled away, his big grin met a look of outrage. Then
he fell to the ground.
“I
hate you!” she seethed, angry that he had passed out and was no longer awake
for her to chastise. She kicked him hard in the ribs.
“Hey,
that hurt!” His eyes opened wide. “Why did you kick me?”
Eena
gasped. “You’re not asleep?”
She
readied to kick him again. Edgar moved out of reach in a blink. She knew it was
pointless to try and take her anger out on him now. His blinding swiftness
would make him impossible to catch, so she yelled at the scoundrel instead.
“The
dragon’s kiss doesn’t even work on you!”
He
grinned impishly. “Of course not, Amora. The rings were made to effect mortals
only.”
“Who
would do that?” she demanded.
“Anesidora.”
“Your
sister made these rings?” She groaned her aggravation. How just her luck.
Edgar
seemed highly amused.
“How
many of these stupid charmed trinkets did your sisters make?”
“A
few. There are others who made use of the dragon stones as well. Pallador
created his platform and the prison that holds my sisters captive. Wennergren
formed the bracelets. Eurodite fashioned a pair of charmed earrings. And I,
myself, created a very impressive and stunning belt.”
“You
made a belt?” Eena asked. “What kind of belt?”
Edgar
smirked at her sudden curiosity. “A magical one.” He waved his fingers in the
air for dramatic effect.
“And
I’m sure it only works on us poor, pathetic mortals.”
“Actually,
no. I created it specifically to work on immortals, but it does fool mortals as
well.”
“It
fools immortals? What exactly does it do?”
“Something
entirely amazing,” he crowed.
“What?”
Edgar
folded his arms over his chest as he declared, “I’m not going to tell you.”
“Where
is it then?” she asked.
“I’m
not going to tell you that either, unless—” He uncrossed his arms, leaning
forward cautiously in case she had some inclination to hit him. “—unless you
agree to come with me.”
Her upper
lip curled unattractively. “Never.”
“Then
I shall never tell you,” he huffed. His arms crossed defiantly over his chest
again.
Her
arms did likewise. “I don’t want to know anyway. It’s probably something
stupid.”
“No,
it’s not.”
“I
hope someday I find a dragon stone so I can make a charmed jewel that will give
me the power to quiet all you annoying immortals.”
“You
wouldn’t be able to,” Edgar announced, his nose pointing haughtily skyward.
“And
why not?”
“Because
Pallador and the governing body put an end to creating anything else with the
dragon stones. All the eggs and the gems inside have been confiscated and are
now under strict guard. Any new dragon egg, once discovered, is likewise locked
away. If an immortal were caught attempting to create a charmed device with a
dragon stone, he or she would be tried and sentenced quite severely.”
Eena
narrowed her eyes before reminding him, “Technically I’m not immortal, so that
rule doesn’t apply to me.”
“Then
technically you don’t have the power to create a charmed trinket in the first
place. Only immortals can do such a thing.”
She
glared for a long moment at his smug expression. “I hate you.”
“I
know,” he grinned with amusement. “Hate… love—” His hands shifted in the air as
if comparing the weights of both emotions. “—they are so closely related.”
“Will
you just go away?” She walked over to stand beside Derian who was still stuck
in a statuesque pose. “Leave us alone.”
Edgar
kinked his neck to look up at the dragon that had been watching silently from
above. “You heard her, Naga, go away.”
“Not
him!” Eena hollered. She looked at her dragon. “Naga, come to me if I call for
you again.”
The
great beast nodded, snorting a small release of smoke.
“Oh,
and one more thing,” she added, flickering a sly glance at her immortal
watchdog. “Bite Edgar’s butt for me.”
There
was another nod by Naga, this one much deeper and complemented by a seething
growl.
Edgar’s
eyeballs widened and then narrowed. He vanished only a second before his scaly
pursuer, but not before exclaiming, “How dare you!”
Eena
laughed, feeling somewhat vindicated as she turned back to her captain. He
lurched forward, reanimated. She stopped his heated steps with a flat hand
against his chest.
“Edgar’s
gone,” she said.
Derian
looked around, feeling confused and out of sync. “What just happened?”
She
didn’t get the chance to answer his question, for her hand was no longer
pressed against his chest but raised in the air, beaten by a hot evening wind. She
was looking out over a large body of water where far off on the horizon a red
sun appeared to be sinking into the choppy sea. As her eyes lowered, she
realized her toes were curled over the brink of a cliff. Far below, shards of
rock and debris spiked up, threatening her from a distance. She quickly backed
away from the danger.
Chapter Two
Just Try and Kiss Me
It was hot.
The
air felt especially sweltering in contrast to the cold warehouse in which Eena
had been standing a moment earlier. This was a new area of land untouched by
its healer. A glance at her surroundings showed an accumulation of dead leaves
and branches spread out over flat terrain. A scarcity of trees pointed skyward
across the scene, bare like toothpicks.
Eena
dropped to the ground and pressed both hands against a knot of needle-thin
twigs that poked out of the soil. On contact, she sensed the weakness of the
flora as well as a shared impression of mourning for plants that had died
during her long absence. She called on the necklace attached to her chest—an
heirloom referred to as the dragon’s soul—to shine and transfer healing energy
to the dying plant life. Her arms warmed in the process; the heat spread to her
fingers.
A
circle of rich greens and browns bled outward from where her touch met the
terrain, spreading and intensifying with each passing moment. Exotic bushes
thickened at the stalks, plump with gold and burgundy veins. Colorful fronds as
delicate as silk threads pushed up from the tips of low-lying scrub while
scrawny trees climbed to new heights, swelling at their trunks. Branches jutted
from the growing trees, sprouting curly leaves that closely resembled kale.
The
healer stopped short when she heard her name spoken in a scolding manner.
“Eena!
What were you thinking? You do know that Naga is duty-bound to carry out your
requests, no matter how absurd they are.”
The
young healer recalled her last words spoken to Naga. Grinning at the idea of
her wishes being carried out, she turned to see her protector standing just out
of arm’s reach. She bit down on her lip when Ian frowned his disapproval.
“Yes,
I know,” she answered indifferently, standing to meet his scrutiny. She
defended her actions even though in her heart she knew the request had been
both childish and risky. “It’s not like Edgar doesn’t deserve it. The jerk
deserves far worse.”
“You’re
not worried even the tiniest bit about repercussions?” Ian asked, his browline
arching.
“Not
really.” She was mostly certain— relatively certain—that Edgar had too much of
a crush on her to retaliate in any hurtful manner. He would never want her to
hate him for all eternity.
Ian
groaned at the justifications in her thoughts. “You know, you’re not much good
at making friends out of enemies.”
His
criticism put a sour grimace on her face. She kicked at a pebble and sent it
soaring over the cliff’s edge. “So what?” she shrugged, watching the pebble
fall for the longest time before her eyes lost sight of it.
“So
you seem to be too good at making worse enemies out of enemies that are
foul enough already.”
“I
never claimed to be Imorih’s pupil.”
“Obviously.
But it wouldn’t hurt for you to reread the book.”
Eena
shoved at her criticizer, making him stagger a few steps backwards.
“Hey,
I said you should make friends of your enemies, not enemies of your friends!” He
acted as if he were overly upset, and Eena busted out laughing. This earned a
laugh from Ian as well, yet he seemed unable to completely shed the veil of
despondency draped over him. It was noticeable.
“I’m
sorry you were called away with me again,” Eena apologized.
Ian
glanced out at the bright, cloudy sky. His feet started forward along an edge
of cliff that curved inward by degrees. His queen walked beside him, keeping at
his sauntering pace.
“Don’t
worry about it,” he finally said. “I was expecting it sooner or later. Besides,
I’d rather be here than at home listening to Nischeen cry all day.”
Eena
sighed a sound of sympathy; she felt bad for him.
(Just
stop it, will you?)
His
curtness echoed in her mind. She turned her eyes up in question, catching a
deepening frown on her protector’s face. He tried to explain his irritable
reaction telepathically.
(I’m
just sick of people feeling sorry for me. Everyone feels such enormous pity. I
hate it. I don’t want anyone’s pity.)
(Maybe
not everyone feels that way,) Eena suggested.
Ian’s
eyes grew big, stressing his certainty. (Yes, everyone! I can read
minds, remember? The whole city pities me! I don’t need it and I don’t want it.
So stop it! Just stop it—everyone stop pitying me!)
Eena
snapped back at him defensively. (If you hate it so much, quit reading people’s
minds. We never asked you to intrude on our personal thoughts.)
Ian
hung his head, realizing she was right. (I know, I’m sorry.)
Still
a bit defensive, she grumbled a reminder. (You’re the one who said you wouldn’t
judge me for my thoughts, remember? Getting angry because I feel for you,
because I care for you—that’s judging me, Ian.)
(I
know, I know. You have a right to think and feel whatever you want. I guess I
should be glad that people care.) He didn’t sound very convincing.
Eena
thought about it for a moment. (You would pity me. I know you would if I were
to lose Derian.)
Ian
didn’t comment.
(And
I probably would hate your pity too,) she mumbled, trying to understand his
feelings.
Ian
snickered in her mind. Her eyebrows lowered in response.
(I
know you better than that, Queenie. You would love how sorry I felt for you. In
fact, you would cry your eyes out, balled up in my arms, soaking up every bit
of sympathy I could manage for your loss.) He quickly added, (Not that I want
anything to happen to Derian. I mean… you know… Derian’s not the one I’m
worried about.)
(Who
are you worried about?)
(You,
of course. I worry a lot for you. I can’t let anything happen to you.)
(Quit
worrying; nothing’s going to happen to me.) It was an empty promise. She
reached for her protector’s hand. He squeezed once on her fingers before
letting go.
Continuing
their walk along the cliff’s edge, they fell silent, lost in mingled thoughts. The
wind blew constant in their faces. It was more than a light breeze, yet it
offered relief from the heat. The sky grew darker each moment as a sinking sun
slowly disappeared off to their side. The sunset was beautiful—a rich, striking
crimson.
(Do
you have any idea where we are?”) Eena eventually wondered. She noted how the
cliff seemed as endless as the rough waters surrounding them.
(I
don’t,) Ian admitted.
She
imagined it didn’t matter to him, especially with the dismal thoughts occupying
his mind. It occurred to her that his parents might miss him again. Surely
Gaila would be livid over what she would perceive as Eena’s selfish consuming
of her son’s time. Perhaps Edgar could be convinced to send him home.
(I
don’t want to go home,) Ian said. (My parents won’t miss me for a while. I told
them I was taking a walk around Lacsar Grounds. They’ll expect me to be gone
for hours.)
(When
they figure out that you are missing,
your mother will…)
(I’ll
explain it all to her eventually. She’ll get over it.) Ian addressed the real
worry on Eena’s mind. (She doesn’t hate you. Mom’s just hurting. She doesn’t
know who to blame, so she’s lashing out at you in behalf of Angelle.)
(In
behalf of Angelle?)
(Yes.
Mom’s been thinking a lot lately about how she was left alone while Father
spent his days at Sha Tashi’s side. It was okay when I was young, but after you
were born, I started accompanying my father. Mom felt abandoned. She envied Sha
Tashi for seeing more of us than she did. It bothers her that Angelle died
alone while I was off with you—another Sha. Mom’s reacting personally to it,
standing up for Angelle in a way she never did for herself.)
(I
guess I can understand how she must feel. I would probably be envious too. I
know I would want my husband’s time and attention.)
(And
you’ll have it,) Ian assured her. (Derian thinks of almost nothing else but
you.)
(I
doubt that,) Eena disagreed. (He spends the majority of his time with the
council.)
(Not
these days. He’s been trying his best to avoid Jorban so he doesn’t have to
explain your situation.)
Eena
was confused by this news. (But I thought he was determined to tell the council
everything. He told me he was going to ask for their help. He’s already
informed Jerin and Marguay.)
(Yes,
but Edgar threatened him since then.)
(What?)
(Edgar
told Derian that he would never see you again if he breathed a word of what he
knew to the council. He basically threatened the captain to keep his mouth shut
or else. It was enough to scare him.)
(Is
that why Derian came seeking me back in Gabert Forest? Is that why he’s so
paranoid of losing me?)
(It’s
got a lot to do with it, yes,) Ian nodded.
Eena
balled her hands into tight fists thinking about it. (That dirty, little,
bullying twit! I’ll kill him!)
Ian
held up a halting palm. (Hey, hey, Eena, clam down. This is exactly why I don’t
tell you things. You go spouting off prematurely before thinking it through.) He
shook his finger at her as he warned, (You can’t breathe a word of this to
Edgar, or Derian will end up paying for it.)
Eena
slouched her shoulders—her resolve deflated. She sighed a sound of defeat. (You
think I’m reckless; I know you do.)
(You’re
impetuous, which is the reason Naga is chasing after Edgar’s derriere right
now.)
She
tried not to snicker at the imagery.
(Most
of the time, Eena, it’s no big deal. But sometimes the well-being of others is
at stake. You must consider the potential consequences—think it completely
through—before you act.)
She
believed he sounded just like Derian.
(Well,
sometimes Derian is right.)
(Okay,
okay, I see your point, but Edgar really does deserve a good, hard bite on the
derriere.)
Ian
couldn’t keep from smirking. The creep definitely deserved worse. (Perhaps. However,
it would serve you much better to stay on his good side. I know he’ll forgive
you for what you’ve done; I read it in his thoughts. He’s infatuated with you,
and I hate it. But it’s probably good in a way. He’s determined to protect you
from Anesidora’s wicked temper, despite how you keep getting yourself into
trouble. He won’t tell his sisters about your recent discussion with Naga. He’s
decided that.)
Ian
stopped walking and turned to face his queen. His voice lowered in a more
serious manner and his countenance sobered to match.
(In
all honesty, Edgar may prove to be the one person who manages to keep you alive
through all of this. I’d like to think it would be me…) He trailed off, wagging
his head at his own unvoiced concerns. (Let’s just hope, for all our sakes,
Edgar stands up to his sisters if it comes down to that.)
Eena
knew Ian was aware of the immortal’s offer, and she reminded him about it. (Edgar
would take the necklace right now if I agreed to his terms.)
Ian
objected emphatically. (No! I don’t mean for him to help you like that; you
can’t leave us. What I mean is, if we don’t find some other way out of this and
you’re forced to free his sisters, I hope he steps in and protects you.)
She
couldn’t help but conjure up Ascultone’s fatal prediction. Neither said a word
about it.
“It’s
getting dark,” Ian finally announced out loud. He sounded tired. “The moon
isn’t up yet, which means it’s going to be impossible to see anything shortly.”
Eena
glanced beyond the waters at a slivered crescent of crimson sun, the only bit
of daylight still showing. It wouldn’t take long for the sea to swallow it up.
“Maybe
we should start a fire.”
“Agreed.”
Together
they gathered armloads of wood—dead twigs and branches that had accumulated
over the years. This natural compost thickly covered the landscape. Eena
suspected the powerful ocean winds were responsible for tearing the brittle
limbs off the wilting trees.
“Over
here!” Ian called out, gesturing to a cluster of timbers grown tightly
together. The tree wall would act as a decent wind break as well as back
support.
“We
can camp here tonight.”
Ian
cleared off an area of ground around his feet. He broke apart some of their
collected firewood and piled it into a nice, high mound. Eena took over from
that point, using her powers to create enough spark to start a small campfire. The
air cooled quickly at the setting of the sun, making them grateful for the
fire’s light and warmth.
They
sat beside one another in silence, staring into the heart of red, flickering
flames. The periodic spit of sparks didn’t have the power to break their
trance. Though they were both absorbed in personal thoughts, Eena was aware
that Ian could read her mind like an open book. His own, however, was locked up
tight, kept as secret as a diary. She wished their mind link worked both ways
so she could listen in on his concerns. It didn’t seem fair that it was a
one-way connection.
What
a stupid thing to think that life would ever be fair.
Inhaling
a breath of smoke-scented air, Eena pulled her knees in close and placed her
chin down on crossed arms. She inclined her head just enough to watch her
protector. He was looking up at the night’s sky, his face tight and
concentrating as if counting the billions of stars above. For the young queen,
those stars formed unfamiliar constellations.
Wondering—guessing
to some extent—what was on his mind, it didn’t surprise her when he responded
to her curious thoughts. In a faraway voice, he asked a desperate question.
“Where
is she? Where do good spirits, like her, go when they’re done here?”
Eena
sighed solemnly, hoping he didn’t misread it as a sign of pity. “I don’t know
for certain, Ian. Some say our spirits go to a paradise where all good people
live together. Others say we just dissipate—cease to exist entirely. I
personally find it absurd to think death could be a final end. The very idea
snuffs out any purpose or meaning to our existence. There must be more; it only
makes sense. I’m sure she’s somewhere, Ian. I’m sure Angelle is somewhere
nice.”
Quiet
claimed the night again as a troubled soul continued to stare up at the stars. A
sudden popping from the campfire stirred up a bright puff of orange sparks that
reflected off Ian’s face, highlighting shimmers of moisture on his cheeks. Eena
realized her best friend was crying. She scooted close enough to slide her arm
through his. Not knowing what to do or say, she put her head on his shoulder.
Ian
didn’t react to the closeness. Eena kept her cheek warm against his arm until
he uttered another heartbreaking question.
“Why
did she have to die?”
Eena
gave him her best answer. “I don’t know, Ian. I just know that everyone dies at
some point. It’s unavoidable. We have
to pass through death as part of life.”
“That’s
not true,” Ian disagreed, shifting his weepy eyes down on her. “Your stupid
immortal friends will never die. They just keep living on and on and on… screwing
up the lives of those with terribly limited days. And the worst part is, they
don’t even appreciate what they have. To never suffer the loss of a loved one. To
never hurt this way.”
“They
don’t appreciate it because they can’t understand it. Death and loss are
outside their experience.” Eena reached for her friend’s trembling hand. “I
think it makes us better people than they are.”
“Why
do you say that?” Ian asked. He watched her fingers gently caress his own while
tears continued to glide silently down his cheeks.
“Well,
the fact is we value life because we know how fleeting it is. It makes us
grateful and more compassionate. Kinder and wiser.”
“Wiser,”
he groaned.
“Yes,
Ian,” she said, tenderly squeezing his hand, “because we’re able to learn from
tragedy and the consequences connected to it.”
“So,
what exactly have I learned from losing Angelle?” His eyes squinted at the
question—skeptical and yet desperate for answers.
“You’ve
learned to never take love for granted, and to be thankful for every moment you
have with the ones you love.”
“That’s
great,” he muttered sarcastically. His hand pulled free from caring fingers to
wipe at the wetness on his cheeks. “What good does that do me now? To learn
this powerful lesson and not be able to make use of it? She’s gone, Eena! She’s
gone forever!” The intensity of grief in his voice made her want to weep with
him, but she resisted, swallowing back her tears.
“I
know, Ian, I know. That’s the sad irony of life. Once we learn our lessons… it’s
over.”
“What
good is it then? What good is living if you lose everything in the end?”
“I
know it seems hopeless.” She grabbed his arm, pushing on it to make him turn
and look at her. His need to make sense of his loss was understandable, and she
wanted to help him find reason in it. “That’s why I can’t believe death is the
end for us. Everything we learn in life, all we become, all we accomplish… it
must serve a purpose somehow, somewhere. I refuse to believe life ceases once
we die. Angelle is still out there; I know it. I’m sure of it.”
“Then
I want to go where she is, Eena,” he cried. “Let me go with her.”
Rising
to her knees, Eena took her best friend in her arms, hugging him as securely as
she could. He grabbed her and held tight as if he never meant to let go.
“I
don’t want you to leave, Ian. I need you here.”
“You
have Derian.”
She
felt guilt stab her like a dagger because she still had her promised one. “I
know,” she whispered as solemnly as if it were an apology.
Ian
held on to their embrace, silently crying. Eena stroked his dusty hair while
silent tears wet her face. Eventually, he let go and pushed himself away,
wiping his cheeks while resuming his scrutiny of the night’s sky. Eena tried
not to feel rejected despite how abruptly he turned his back on her. She knew
this was hard for him. It was hard for her too. She found comfort in her own
arms, wrapping them snugly around her waist. She watched her tormented friend,
unsure of what else to do. His somber voice broke the silence again.
“It’s
bad enough that she’s dead, that I’ve lost her for good. It’s even worse that I
wasn’t there when it happened. I should have been there.” His head wagged back
and forth, signing disappointment in himself. “But what really eats me is the
fact that I didn’t have a clue she was in trouble. I didn’t sense anything, not
even the slightest twinge of uneasiness. How the hell could I not have known
she was in trouble?”
His
gaze darted sidelong, finding Eena, locking onto her sad eyes with shocking
intensity. She inclined her head, but all she could do was shake it uselessly
back and forth until he looked away. He went on talking, anger amplifying his
voice.
“There
I was living it up, laughing along with the Grotts while Angelle was all alone,
drowning. How could I not have sensed it? How could I not have known that my
promised one was in trouble? How could someone I love be suffering—dying—and I
not feel anything?”
“I
was with the Grotts too, Ian. I didn’t know she was in trouble either.”
With
a sweeping gesture, he dismissed her attempt to ease his burden of guilt. “It’s
not the same,” he argued. “You weren’t in love with her.”
“No,
but that…”
Ian
cut in, stopping Eena mid-sentence. His eyes were tight, dark slits as they
turned on her again. “I would have known if it had been you.”
They
stared at each other for the longest moment. Her utterance broke their trance.
“Not
necessarily.”
Ian’s
brow furrowed, questioning her.
“You
were asleep when Ascultone almost killed me.”
His
countenance paled, resembling a ghost, making her regret reminding him of the
incident. She apologized at once. “I didn’t mean anything, Ian. It’s just that…
well… you can’t be aware of every bit of suffering another person goes through,
no matter how much you love them.”
“I
would know if you were dying,” he insisted. “I would know.”
She
exhaled heavily. “Only because we’re connected. Normal people aren’t that way. Derian
would never know.”
“No.
No, he wouldn’t,” Ian agreed.
“But
if something ever did happen to me, he would feel guilty about it—just like
you. It’s normal.”
Ian
drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it out, thinking. “Yeah, he would,” Ian
finally decided.
The
conversation ended on that note. The night turned silent excepting the far-off
sound of waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. It was
growing chillier by the hour. Ian rose and tossed an armful of wood on the
fire. It only took seconds for the flames to swell high and wild, greedily
eating up the added fuel. He stood above the blaze, across from his queen. The
heat seemed to reach up at him, threatening to burn the hairs off his folded
arms.
“You
ought to get some sleep,” he said.
“I
can’t sleep. I just woke up a few hours ago,” she reminded him.
Her
finger habitually coiled a strand of hair, twisting it over and over, as she
continued to watch her protector. His face appeared angry. She blamed it on the
firelight and the shadows that blackened every dint in his features.
“If
I went to sleep, I would have nightmares anyway.”
Ian
flickered a glance at her before returning his gaze to the fire. “It shocked me
to see Angelle in your dream,” he admitted. “She looked beautiful.”
“Yes,
she did. I don’t know how Anesidora managed that. You would think if she could
create such illusions she would make herself look better.”
It
was a sweet sound to hear Ian actually chuckle out loud. It was unexpected. Eena
looked up as if checking to be sure her ears hadn’t deceived her. She smiled at
a softer look on his face.
“She
is one ugly ghost, isn’t she?” Ian said.
“Frightfully
ugly,” Eena agreed.
Silence
subtly prevailed again. Eena hugged her knees close as she stared blankly at
the fire, aware of a toasty sensation tingling her arms and legs and face. Ian
had planted his feet very close to the flames, continuing to view them from
above. The predominate sound, a background murmur of sea water, captured Eena’s
ears and she found herself thinking about her dream of vacationing on the
Oregon Coast. The dream had felt as real as if she and Ian had been transported
back to Earth, two high school friends living out their days as carefree and
happy as before. Their problems had vanished while lost in that dream. It had
been lovely.
The
young queen looked up again, checking on her best friend. His feet were still
planted before the fire. One arm remained across his chest, but the other was
raised to cover his face. Eena straightened up, observing closely. She noticed
how his hand trembled while at the same time his back appeared to shudder. She
skirted the campfire in seconds. Not knowing if he would accept or reject her
comfort, she embraced him from behind, pressing a cheek against his back.
“Oh,
Ian, I’m so sorry,” she breathed.
It
took a moment, but at last he turned around. His arms encircled her as she
buried her head beneath his chin. The young protector broke down, sobbing much
like he had at the morgue. Eena cried at his meltdown.
To
experience the extent of his broken heart—the way he secured himself to her,
gasping for breaths while mourning over his loss—was painful. All she could do
was hold on as he clung to her. She wished for more options, for another way to
ease the grief or heal his broken heart entirely. But there was no easy fix. Then
again, there was a source of
temporary relief.
Eena
pulled her hand in close enough to press Naga’s ring to her lips, but her
actions were too slow. Ian reacted fast and snatched her by the wrist, stepping
outside of reach. He held her hand up in the air between them and objected
staunchly.
“No!
No, you’re not doing that to me again!” He wiped the blinding tears from his
eyes with a free hand, continuing to protest. “I understand why you did it the
first time… I lost control then. But you’re not putting me to sleep with that
thing again.”
She
pled with him, whining his name, begging him to surrender to pleasant dreams.
“No,
Eena, sleeping won’t solve anything! It won’t bring Angelle back, and it will
leave you alone out here without a protector. Don’t you dare kiss me!”
His
squinted gaze was moist but alert, keeping tabs on Eena’s every move. He was
determined to keep her loaded lips away from him.
She
tried to be convincing explaining her motives. “I didn’t use the ring last time
because you lost control but because you were hurting so badly. It’s hard for
me to watch and feel how you suffer. This ring will give you some relief from
that.”
She
took a step forward, but Ian yanked on her arm, forcing her sideways and away
from the fire. She squealed at the painful twist of her wrist. Her eyes grew
more incredulous when she realized Ian had sneakily pulled the ring up to his
lips during the shuffle. He was now armed with a sleeping kiss too.
“Don’t
you dare!” she warned.
Ian
challenged her as he declared, “If you try and kiss me, I swear I’ll kiss you
first.”
She
attempted a good, hard tug on her arm, but he kept a firm grip. Then his eyes
brightened up with a notion.
“You
know, I think the dragon’s kiss would be put to better use on you anyway. If I
can keep the powerful Sha Eena asleep under its spell, those wicked, immortal
sisters will never get their hands on the remaining star points.” He aimed a
finger at her. “You’re the one who needs a good, looooong nap.”
Afraid
he might attempt to carry out his threat, Eena used the dragon’s soul to send a
mild electric shock to his grasping hand. He let go of her, shaking his fingers
wildly in the air.
“Criminy,
Eena, that smarted!”
“Just
stay away from me,” she warned.
“Likewise,”
he retorted.
They
faced off, glaring, both on guard.
Eena
stuck out a pouty lower lip. “All I’m trying to do is help you.”
Ian
repeated the same words back at her. “All I’m trying to do is help you.”
“If
you would just sleep, Ian, you would feel better. Didn’t you have pleasant
dreams last night?”
Ian
shifted his weight onto one foot. “That’s beside the point. What you’re trying
to do is make reality go away. It won’t help. Angelle’s not coming back and I
have to face it. I can’t hide from reality.”
“I
know, but…” she stepped toward him.
He
retreated, maintaining a gap between them. “Stay back,” he warned.
His
insistence only peeved her, and she took two defiant steps forward.
Circling
to the opposite side of the fire he cautioned, “I’m faster than you are,
Queenie. You better knock it off or my lips will be on your cheek before you
know what hit you.”
Ian’s
threat did nothing but provoke her competitiveness. “You are not faster than
me. I always beat you in every race we ever had on Earth. I was the first one
to school, the first one home, and the first one to the top of the hill every
night.”
“That’s
only because I was being a gentleman.”
“Oh,
convenient excuse,” she groaned. “I would have beaten you anyway.”
He
laughed once. “Never!”
With
that, she took off after him, rounding the fire as he did. When she stopped, he
stood across from her with a smug grin on his face. Her eyes narrowed as she
doggedly tried the other direction, halting abruptly to twist and reverse
course. Ian copied her moves perfectly, keeping himself lined up across the
fire at every step.
Eena
reacted to an idea the very second it struck, not allowing her competitor a
chance to counteract. His leg was bound and secured by a nearby tree root
before he could growl.
“You
cheater! You shameful cheater!”
Eena
was standing before him in a flash. The tree root released its hold as the pair
wrestled, struggling to keep the other person’s lips away from any area of
exposed skin. When Eena’s mouth reached for the hand securing her wrist, Ian
pulled both their arms down forcefully and stole the opportunity to lean in. His
lips pressed against his queen’s forehead. There was a split second of sheer
surprise when he felt her lips touch the side of his chin at the very same
instant. They fell to the ground mingled in a dead sleep.
It
seemed as if they were forgetting something important.
“Did
you remember to do your homework?” Sevenah asked her best friend. It was the
most likely thing to have forgotten.
Standing
outside the white gate to her front yard, she rummaged through her backpack to
find her physics assignment completed and tucked away in a green folder. Satisfied,
she handed her backpack over to Ian. He slung it across his shoulder, careful
not to mess up his place in the paperback book his fingers had propped open.
“What
homework?” Ian said, a culpable grin on his lips.
“I
don’t know why you even bother going to school,” she grumbled. “You should put
down those sci-fi stories and pay attention to the real world now and then. How
do you ever expect to get into college?”
“Sorry,
Mom. I’ll try to do better, I swear.” Ian held his free hand up, gesturing a
mocking vow. He chuckled when she rolled her eyes.
Side
by side they stepped down the dirt road that led to Royal City’s high school. It
was Friday. Sevenah loved Fridays because her parents relaxed on curfew and she
could spend more time with Ian and her other friends. She was excited to get
past the day’s big test and on to the football game that everyone with any
school spirit would be attending that evening.
Ian
nudged her to pull her from her thoughts. “Hey, I’ll race you to school. I’ll
even give you a head start this time.”
“Like
I need a head start against your skinny legs,” she teased.
The
next thing he knew, she was tearing down the dirt road, kicking up a trail of
dust behind her.
“You
shameless cheater!” he called out. Ian smiled big, allowing a sizeable gap to
form before stepping into a run himself.
He
caught up with her five minutes to the school, and they raced side by side
until the familiar gold-brick building drew near. Then both runners took off in
a deadlock sprint. Sevenah barely won… again.