Beneath the Thirteen Moons (2 page)

Jaja hopped on her shoulder, his favorite perch when they traveled, and patted it reassuringly. Mahri winced, for her injury still pained her, and used her thoughts to distract her from it.

Somewhere below she knew the sea must stop, and wondered what lay beneath it. Only the trees were solid in her world, they sustained life; animals, insects, and plants all parasites on their bodies. She couldn’t imagine what
something
could sustain the all-powerful trees. Perhaps her ancestors had known but that knowledge had either been lost or lay buried within the Royals’ hoard of records.

They cruised through a warren of city homes; caverns hollowed from thick bark, or branches twisted into curved structures by the Power of a Seer. Front doors opened onto the water, balconies a few paces wide created small landings which tethered boats in all shapes and sizes. The white gleam of seashells used for decoration reflected the glow of the myriad moons overhead.

The Healer moaned and her attention centered on her unwilling passenger. Now would not be a good time for him to wake. Mahri centered the boat, went aft, and trussed him like a pig-fish. She frowned, remembering that feeling she’d had when their eyes had met, and with a feather touch she brushed the long, pale hair away from his face. Curled from the damp, the silky strands of it wrapped around her fingers, tumbled across his smooth brow. High cheekbones, a strong chin. A straight nose that tipped up at the end
saved him from being classically handsome, to just boyishly so.

Mahri sighed, ran a callused finger along the fullness of his bottom lip, and Jaja hopped from her shoulder in apparent disgust. She snatched back her hand as if it’d been burned, tried to think of the nastiest curse she knew, gave up and just spit. She’d never reacted like this toward another man, not even her lifemate. Why couldn’t she have stumbled across an ugly, old Healer?

A light globe that hung outside a treehome flared behind them, the phosphorescent creature trapped within giving one last surge before dying. Mahri glanced up, saw the spray from the bow of a craft that pursued them with deadly stealth and this time swore aloud.

She retracted her pole, used only the Power, Seeing the tiny particles that composed the water, shaking and stirring them until foam erupted around the sides of her boat. Unfamiliar with the city, Mahri still sensed the pathways of the sea and her smaller vessel surged between channels that formed the back alleys of the homes. The odor of raw sewage made her gasp from the stench; the waves she’d created butted against garbage that she deliberately refused to See.

When she felt the cove just ahead she gratefully eased the agitation from the foam. Her shoulder pounded in agony when she started to pole again, the root’s Power that had drained with their flight had let the full pain of that hurt through. She wished she’d Seen to it when she’d had a chance. Hopefully when they reached the cove they’d be lost in the blackness and she wouldn’t have to paddle but just drift with the current.

Her passenger grunted.

Mahri armed sweat from her face. First guards, then determined pursuit. Surely, a bit too much attention for a novice.

“Who in the-thirteen-moons are you anyway?” she snapped over her shoulder.

No answer. What had that guard said when he’d come into the room? Had he called the Healer “lord”? Only Royals were addressed by that title—her luck couldn’t be that rotten! Besides, what would a Royal be doing learning the art of a Healer? Usually a selfless task, certainly knowledge not required for the ruling of the Forest. Perhaps he was the youngest son of a low-ranked Royal?

Mahri breathed a sigh of relief. That’s it! A few loyal guards, easily shaken. A token show of interest for a barely worthy relation.

Thunder growled and the rain that fell every night thickened to a deluge when they reached the cove. She traded pole for oar—with regret for the alien feel of wood instead of bone in her hands—and paddled into the middle of the black water.

She had to squint against the downfall which obscured the lights of the wharf and the myriad moons. Between rolls of thunder she could hear in which direction the wharf lay, for even at night the taverns and trading houses spewed forth laughter, chanties, and the occasional scream. The temptation to hide out at Vissa’s for a breather came and went. Although it might help shake any pursuers, the complications it could cause…

The image of daring black eyes and clever hands made her grin.

She hadn’t the time for anything but a direct route to the village, and if she tempted death by abusing the root in order to get there, so be it. If she arrived too late, she might as well not return at all.

The seashells entwined in her long, braided hair tinkled gently when Jaja climbed up to hop on her shoulder. He chattered in her ear, his tail half-spread into a fin from his excitement and she reached back to smooth it down.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Her hand froze, muscles paralyzed in a grip she struggled to break. She could feel the Touch through the rest of her body, the tingle spreading through her legs, snapping her spine rigid. Again Jaja pressed root between her lips and with a surge of Power she broke that other’s grip.

Master, she thought. Not as powerful as she, thank-the-moons, but strong enough that it couldn’t have been a casual encounter. Her pursuers had found them, and now enlisted the aid of a Master Seer!

Lightning flashed and she saw a large, black shape bearing down on them. Only a warrior ship would be that big—had she the entire fleet after her? Mahri went aft, stood over her unwilling passenger, and nudged him with her foot.

“You’re not a low-ranked anything, are you?”

As she suspected, he’d been awake. Large, round eyes looked up at her, caught the reflection of the lightning when it flared again. And exposed their position to their pursuers, for a slew of arrows tipped with the poisonous spikes of an anemone suddenly fell around them.

Mahri crouched, winced when an arrow thudded home next to the Healer’s ear. “Whoever you are,” she
said, “It seems like your rescuers don’t care if they get you back alive.”

His words floated through the black night. “Your actions have made me vulnerable to my enemies.”

Mahri felt a shiver run through her at the sound of his voice. Something about it, the deep timbre, the cultured words, sparked something inside of her that she hadn’t known existed. A longing that… ach! What was the matter with her? She’d never responded so idiotically to anyone before.

Still, she wasn’t sure if she questioned him just to hear his voice again. “Who are you?”

Lightning flashed, another volley of arrows, and this time the black shape loomed closer. Her captive’s eyes widened. “Korl—” he managed, then began to spasm on the deck.

Mahri rocked back on her heels. Couldn’t be, she thought. After all, a lot of people went by the name of Korl; her luck just couldn’t be…

“Not
Prince
Korl!” she groaned.

I
NSTEAD OF ANSWERING HER, HE TRIED TO HEAVE
himself overboard.

The Seer has control of his muscles, thought Mahri, struggling to hold him down. But the Healer didn’t have enough Power to fight the invasion and kept trying to lock his muscles against that other’s control. She tied the ends of his bindings to the tent anchors inside the boat, hoping they’d hold him down. She knew that if she gave him root he could fight back, but she couldn’t risk it because she needed him as helpless as possible.

Lightning crackled a jagged pattern across the cove and she looked up at the looming bow of the warrior ship, felt her own small craft begin to tilt from the wave that had swelled from its thrust. When they plummeted down it, they’d be sucked beneath that huge ship, shredded against the bottom of it into pieces of so much flotsam.

Mahri shook her head to clear the terror, dug into her fish-scale pouch and snatched out the biggest piece of root she touched. She’d never taken this much for such an extended period of time, yet she had little choice. She bit it again and again, shivered and gagged, felt her body expand with released Power. Then Saw the wave, let it grow, the foam cradling her craft atop it like a mother with a newborn babe.

They towered above the warrior ship for a second which allowed her to see the lantern-lit deck. A tall
figure shrouded in a luminescent cloak of birdshark feathers stood like a statue midship, fists clenched at his sides. Mahri felt his Sight crawl through her, the same dirty Touch that had tried to attack her before. Then she smiled when she sensed his recognition and immediate withdrawal, watched those fists lift and shake up at her.

The Healer moaned and her concentration slipped, her craft spinning as if caught in a whirlpool. Jaja shrieked in her ear and catapulted onto Korl’s chest, the spin slamming his small body so that it took several attempts for his webbed hands to push a small piece of root into the man’s mouth.

Mahri Saw into the Healer, recoiled at what the Seer attempted to do, and didn’t rebuke her pet for his actions. She couldn’t afford to protect the man and flee at the same time, and she needed the Healer alive… with his insides in one piece. Hopefully, he’d use most of the root’s Power to protect himself instead of trying to escape her.

She didn’t envy him his enemies.

She Saw back into the foam, steadied her craft, barely heard a scream of rage over the roar of the swell as they surged forward. They rolled atop the crest of the wave, the tower of water now their valiant steed, brief flashes of lightning allowing her to see that they’d left the warrior ship far behind. She desperately tried to steer the flow of water, but she’d built it too high, the particles so agitated that they’d have to gentle naturally. Luck would determine which channel they’d flow into—she could only hope it would be familiar to her. The swamps were full of dangers and even a water-rat couldn’t know all of the passages.

Wind buffeted her face, loosed tendrils of red hair from her braid and smacked them against her cheeks with a sting. For just a moment she grinned, for this had to be what it felt like to fly, skimming across the water on the wing of a wave. Let it take her where it would, she hadn’t expected to make it this far anyway.

“You’ve no control over it,” shouted the Healer behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him sitting up, his eyes narrowed against the wind of their flight. “More root—I can help you.”

And I’m a water-rat and therefore lack a brain, thought Mahri. Royals had such a high opinion of themselves that they underestimated everyone else. She made a rude gesture at him and imagined she heard a gasp of indignation, and tried hard not to giggle like a little girl.

The lightning saved them. Just a brief flicker, but enough to reveal the tree that lay in their path. Mahri renewed her struggle to direct the wave; her mouth opened and she panted, the spray of saltwater stinging her tongue. She directed Power again to her Sight, half aware that she sank to her knees, her trembling legs no longer able to support her. She grasped the sides of her boat and leaned forward over the bow to see better, for the rain had stopped and the clouds had dispersed to let the light of the moons guide her through this channel. Finally, a little luck.

But then the aft hull struck the side of a tree, her teeth jarred with the impact, and her passenger grunted behind her. Jaja had grabbed her braid and she felt him swing sideways, chattering in angry fear. The wave rode them too high, she could see a channel of water about a ship’s length below being drowned by their own passage. They
weren’t even close to being high enough to ride over the tops of the trees and too many branches spread out at this height. Mahri ducked and swore, tried to steer around the obstacles with her Power, using the ineffectual paddle to slap leaves away from her face.

With sudden, bruising force a limb slammed into her chest and threw her backwards on top of the Healer’s trussed body. She heard the breath whoosh from his lungs and hoped Jaja didn’t get squashed between them while she tried to get her own breath back. Pain ripped like knives through her chest and her shoulder throbbed anew. Korl’s body burned beneath her, the warmth of it begging her to curl up on it and go to sleep. To give up the fight and let the water do with them what it would.

“Get off me,” gasped Prince Korl through clenched teeth, his voice tinged with what sounded like fear.

Because he sensed that she might give up, or could it be something else? Could he be as drawn to her heat as she was to his? And where did these foolish thoughts come from anyway? The moment she’d met him she’d felt an irresistible chemistry.

“Root,” he continued. “I can control the wave.”

Mahri steeled herself against the agony and sat up. Her craft slammed into the trunk of a smaller tree and knocked her sideways, her head bounced off the side of the boat and she couldn’t tell if they actually spun or if it existed only in her now-jangled skull.

This time she crawled to the bow, anger the only thing that fueled her. Just because he had the knowledge of a Healer, he figured he could control water better than a rat? He who knew nothing of swamps and currents and
the younger forest? And what perverse fate let her be drawn to a Royal anyway?

Mahri peeked over the bow. Their progress slowed but they still rode high. She couldn’t control the wave but maybe she could throw more obstacles in its path. With a concentration that sucked up the remaining Power in her body, she focused her Sight on the channel of water that flowed beneath their onslaught, churning up humps of water that created a counter-force against the wave. But she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

How long before they hit a big limb or tree trunk dead-on? Before the sides of her sturdy boat caved from the impacts that continued to beat at them? Mahri fumbled in her pouch for another bit of root. The pain of her injuries could no longer be held at bay from the dregs of Power she retained and if she lost consciousness they would die. But still she knew that the bit of zabbaroot in her hand might result in a coma she couldn’t be sure of waking up from.

“I can’t do it,” shouted Korl. Mahri turned in surprise. “I’ve tried, but I don’t know the strings in the water—how they’re put together.”

Well, of course not, she wanted to answer him. Just because you’re a Royal you think you know everything? But she held her tongue because his face showed genuine shock, as if this was the first time he’d ever failed at anything, his self-confidence shaken. But Jaja had only given him a small bit of root, not enough for him to See unfamiliar patterns. And she surely wouldn’t give him anymore.

Mahri crunched the piece in her mouth and let the Power flow again. But so sluggishly this time, following
pathways through her body that had already been traumatized by too much Power. With a groan she fished in her pouch again, brought more of the green tuber to her lips. She felt the slight weight as Jaja pounced on her shoulder, the smooth feel of his webbing as he tried to cover her mouth with his little hand. She could almost hear the actual words in her head:
no-no-no
.

“I’ve no choice,” she said aloud, and for just a moment several moons cleared of clouds and she met the eyes of the Healer. Still too dark to see their color, she wondered if they’d be the olive green shade of hers or some lighter hue, for those of Power always had green eyes, if not from birth then from use of the zabbaroot. Mahri frowned. She might never know.

That feeling she’d felt before, as if she’d known him forever, again shivered between them and she knew he felt it too. The moons cast angled shadows across his features, played their soft light along the pale strands of his hair. Mahri swallowed a sigh.

“Don’t do it,” he said in that deep, soul-wringing voice. “That’s too much root for a Master, much less the likes of you.”

She could’ve slapped him, if she’d had the strength. Instead she closed her eyes so he couldn’t trap her any longer with that charismatic stare and defiantly popped the tubers into her mouth. Jaja whined and hid his head under her braid, waves of fear emanating from his mind to hers.

“I’ll get you out of this,” she promised the pet, even though she knew his fright wasn’t for his own safety.

Mahri’s head felt stuffed with cotton, then it cleared and she stood with the rush of Power, her eyes sparkled
with light and she dropped the paddle, drew her staff and flicked her wrist. With a natural agility she batted away lesser twigs, Saw the wave and made it guide her craft around the larger branches and trunks.

She no longer attempted to slow down, instead she navigated her boat through the channels. Mahri didn’t know the path they traveled yet she sensed the direction in which the village lay, knew she’d waste precious time in unfamiliar waters, and with this surge of Power she’d cover as much ground as she now could. For the longer it took to reach what was left of her family, the greater chance they had of dying from the swamp fever.

She refused to consider that she’d be too late. And if— no when—she lapsed into a death coma from the root…

“Jaja,” she whispered. His tail slunk around and caressed the back of her neck. “When I sleep, take this man to our village. He won’t know the way so guide him there to heal the people. Don’t let me die for nothing. Promise.”

He patted her cheek in reassurance and she felt his agreement, breathed a sigh of relief. Then rode the wave as if it were some great sea beast, made it follow her commands, reveling in the feel of Power even while she cringed at the thought of the certain consequences.

But it ended too soon. The wave shrank and they descended to the normal level of the water in the channel. An unnatural silence surrounded them, compared to the maelstrom they’d just come through, and the wind softened to a gentle touch. Mahri continued to See into the current, pushed them to a speed she couldn’t equal with her pole. She drained herself
until she fell to her hands and knees, head hung between her shoulders, convulsions starting to rip through her body.

Exhaustion so intense she almost cried from it, an alien response that she hadn’t resorted to since her life-mate and child had died. Pain so severe her quivering muscles cramped against the feel of it. Yet she still tried to See until her arms and legs collapsed and curled her into a fetal position on the bottom of her boat.

Jaja squeaked and pattered aft when her eyes closed, and though unable to keep them open she could still hear enough to know that he untied that Royal.

But was he? He’d never answered her, and suddenly it became necessary for her to know before she slipped into the blackness of a coma. The thought that she could die without ever knowing who she’d kidnapped seemed… unfair somehow.

A warm palm caressed her cheek and by slow degrees she opened heavy eyes. His face lay so close to hers. A strong chin, the barest hint of a cleft. A mouth that she could see curled up slightly at the corners, yet somehow didn’t give the impression of a perpetual smile. A full bottom lip. Then the nose that tilted up at the end. Mahri didn’t have the strength to let her eyes wander up his face any farther, where she knew she’d be captured by his gaze.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Shh,” he replied, his breath the lightest touch against her face. Mahri breathed in the scent of him; clean, masculine, compelling.

“Prince… or… not?” she demanded, fading to that empty blackness.

She felt his grunt of exasperation. “Prince,” he answered, “Prince Korl Com’nder, at your service. And who might you be, my ferocious little water-rat?”

I’m not your anything, she wanted to reply. Royals and their assumed superiority. Why did he have to smell so good? “Mahri Zin,” she sighed, and succumbed to oblivion.

Yet not a total emptiness, for Mahri dreamed. Jaja hopped from one of her shoulders to another, his excitement making her nervous as she walked along the branch road. A road she’d never seen the likes of before, a sea tree many times larger than even the Palace Tree, the branch seeming to stretch straight toward the horizon. And the bark looked odd, almost as if it breathed in slow undulations, a living animal instead of the plant she knew it to be.

“Where are we, Jaja?” she asked with hushed wonder.

Mother Tree
, he replied within her mind, for the first time not just with abstract feelings but in actual words.
Source of
all zabbaroot
.

For just a moment Mahri could see the trunk of the mammoth tree, a dark mass of twisted bark that would take many moons for her to even walk around, if that was even possible. The limbs that splayed out from it stretched into infinity and she shuddered at the sheer majesty of it.

Tendrils of fog wreathed her face and blocked her view, as if mere mortals were allowed only a glimpse of the tree. The mist thickened as their route dipped down to meet the surface of the sea, and through another break in the whiteness she could see beneath a parallel branch and stopped in stunned amazement.

“Zabbaroot,” she breathed, and felt Jaja nod his tiny head in excited agreement. Not just one but hundreds of roots grew from underneath the branch, long tendrils that dipped their tips into the water and curled back up and around each other. The pale green tubers sparkled with suppressed Power. The natives that tended them reflected that light in their black eyes.