Into the Wind (14 page)

“Brynn.” Taren bent down and brushed the hair from Brynn’s eyes. “Brynn. Boy. We have to go.”

Brynn stirred and opened his eyes. Taren offered him his hand, but Brynn ignored it, instead struggling to his feet and steadying himself against the wall. Taren fought the urge to help and instead retrieved one of the guards’ swords and shoved it into his belt.

As they cautiously made their way down the passage outside the cell, they encountered none of Odhrán’s men. The tunnel split into two not far beyond. Brynn motioned to one of the entrances and whispered, “I think this way leads to the surface.”

Taren had no choice but to trust Brynn’s memory since he had seen nothing of the passages when they’d been captured. The faint sound of voices could now be heard from whence they’d come—there was no time to question the choice. They hurried into the semidarkness, slipping and sliding on the damp stone floor.

“Are you all right?” Taren asked when Brynn began to lag behind him. “I can carry you, if need be.”

“I don’t need your help,” Brynn snapped back, the words barely comprehensible as he spoke them from between clenched teeth. He looked pale and sweaty, and he leaned against the side of the passage to support himself.

“You’re ill. There’s no shame in—”

“I don’t need your help,” Brynn said with an indignant huff. “It’s nothing.” He pushed past Taren and strode quickly away. Taren could do nothing but follow.

Several minutes passed wherein Taren watched Brynn stagger and weave his way forward. Each time Taren made to assist Brynn, Brynn pulled away and took off again, faster than before. “You’ll wear yourself out, foolish boy,” Taren grumbled to himself as he followed, careful to keep his distance.

Soon the tunnel began to rise more steeply. A good sign, Taren figured, although Brynn’s pace had now slowed to the point where Taren followed more closely behind, concerned for Brynn’s well-being. Moments later, Taren’s greatest fears were confirmed as Brynn gasped, then teetered. Taren caught him as he fell, then set him gently on the ground.

Brynn moaned, then coughed as his eyes fluttered open. “Taren? Where…?”

“We’re in the caves. Odhrán’s men are looking for us.”

“Caves? But I—” Brynn’s words were cut short by a coughing fit that made Taren cringe with its ferocity.

“Don’t you remember? We got past the guards.” Taren shook his head. If he got out of this alive, he’d give Vurin a piece of his mind. Had he misread the ancient texts about the stone? But the old woman?
No doubt you dreamed her.
He’d wanted answers; perhaps he’d created his own and imagined he’d met her.
It’s better this way. If a brute like Odhrán knew anything about the stone, we’d all be in danger for it.

“Y-you… we… escaped?” Brynn shivered. “But what about Odhrán?”

“He didn’t have what I was looking for.”

Once again Brynn began to cough and wheeze, this time doubling over with the force of the attack.

“May I touch you?” Taren asked. He wasn’t sure if anything Vurin or Renda had taught him about Ea healing techniques would help a human, but he knew well enough that if he did nothing, Brynn could die.

“Touch?” Brynn’s voice sounded thin. Weak.

Taren offered Brynn what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Aye. Someone taught me a few tricks. Things to help a body heal.”

Brynn hesitated a moment, then nodded.

Taren took a deep breath and released a stream of air from between his pursed lips.
“You cannot call upon your power if you do not first rid yourself of extraneous thoughts.”
He needed to relax and calm his pounding heart.

Taren imagined the soothing caress of the ocean upon his bare skin, the taste of the salt water upon his tongue, and the familiar smell of the spray as it met his nostrils. Then he reached out and gently touched Brynn’s cheeks with his fingers. Warmth radiated reassuringly from his hands—the same warmth Taren had felt when he’d practiced the technique on Ian. He opened his thoughts and sought to sense Brynn’s body’s need. He was entirely unprepared for the thoughts and sensations that flooded his mind.

Flashes of light obscured much of what he saw, although Taren recognized the blue-green of the ocean, and the sun as it glinted across the waves. He heard strange music and the sound of tiny bells that chimed in shimmering harmony with the movement of bare feet. Memories both painful and vivid assaulted his mind in a cacophony of sound and a blur of images.

Not here
, Taren told himself.
There is nothing wrong with the boy’s mind.
He needed to find the cause of his body’s weakness. Find the illness that was assaulting his body.

He probed further, reminding himself to stay away from the recesses of Brynn’s thoughts and memories. He found something unusual: something that didn’t belong in Brynn’s mind but coiled like a viper, ready to strike. Was this the illness that had latched on to Brynn? When Taren had practiced this technique before, there had been no true illness to heal. Perhaps he was imagining things, or perhaps it was the fever that wracked Brynn’s frail body that he sensed.

He focused on the unease in Brynn’s body and imagined himself pushing it away, forcing it to flee. The thing—whatever it was—pushed back with such force that Taren fell backward and nearly hit his head on the stone wall behind him.

Goddess! What was that?
He scrambled back to sitting to find Brynn leaning against the wall. His face was covered in sweat, but the color in his cheeks had begun to return. In this, as in other things Vurin had taught him, Taren still had quite a bit to learn.

“What did you do?” Brynn asked, clearly stunned.

“Nothing.” Taren got to his feet and offered Brynn his hand. “A trick to help cleanse the body of sickness. Are you all right?”

Brynn nodded, and this time, for the first time, took Taren’s hand to steady himself as he stood.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened at the end. I’m not very experienced in the healing arts.”

“I’m better,” Brynn said as they began to walk again. “Whatever you did helped.” He was still clearly weak, but Taren knew they needed to make progress or Odhrán’s men would catch up with them.

A moment later, Taren heard shouts from down the passageway.

“Come with me,” Taren whispered as he motioned to his left. Brynn nodded again and held on to Taren tighter.

Taren led Brynn around a bend, away from the voices. The passage led upward. A good sign, he figured, since when they had been taken to Odhrán’s lair, they’d descended a fair distance. They continued to climb, but with each step, Brynn appeared to grow weaker. In the dim light of the crystals, his skin appeared pasty, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced.

“Let me carry you,” Taren finally said after he knew Brynn could move no more.

“I can do this.” Brynn furrowed his brow. “I’m not weak.”

“You’re ill. Please, let me help you.”

Brynn eyed him warily, then said, “All right. But just for a short while, so I can rest.”

Relieved, Taren gathered Brynn in his arms. Brynn sighed softly and rested his head against Taren’s chest. Taren would not be able to move as quickly as he might on his own, but they would make faster progress now. How much farther, he wondered, was the entrance to the caves?
How do you even know if you’re headed in the right direction?

Taren walked for some time. The voices of Odhrán’s men still echoed throughout the tunnels. He could only hope they were far away. There was another sound too, which grew louder as they ascended. He continued to make slow progress for a while longer, and as he did, he realized the other sound was that of rushing water.

Minutes later, Taren reached the source of the roaring sound—a torrent of a river flowing through the caverns. The water spit and hissed as it sped downward. The strong smell of sulfur permeated the air and any hope he’d had of transforming fled. He might survive the acrid water long enough to escape the caverns in his Ea form, but Brynn would not. The air here was thick with it, and the heat was overwhelming.

Goddess, no!
He would need to turn back. He wouldn’t risk harming Brynn. And yet he knew that if he turned back, he would likely encounter Odhrán’s men. Then he saw a small entryway on the other side of the underground river. Large enough for them to squeeze through.
If you can manage to get over the river without falling into it
.

“Brynn.” Brynn stirred and looked up at him through half-closed eyes. “You must hold on tightly.”

“Aye.” Brynn’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the rushing current, but he tightened his arms around Taren.

Taren looked around one last time, backed up a few feet, then ran with all his might and leapt into the air when he reached the edge of the water. For a split second, Taren believed he’d make it to the other side, but it suddenly seemed farther away than before. His knee hit the hard stone of the opposite bank, and he faltered but finally managed to grab on to it. The water wasn’t as hot as he’d expected, more like the heat of some of the hot springs he’d frequented with some of the men aboard the
Sea Witch
, but the shock of it was enough to dislodge Brynn’s hold on him.

“Brynn!” Taren shouted as Brynn quickly drifted out of his grasp. Taren had no choice. With a current this strong, the strongest human would only be able to keep his head above the water. In his weakened condition, Brynn would drown. Taren released his hold and transformed.

Brynn!
In his Ea form, he had little difficulty catching up to where he sensed Brynn’s movements in the water. He swam downward to the narrow part of the river where the current was the strongest, beat his tail as he passed Brynn, then maintained his position as best he could. A second later Brynn came hurtling toward him, bobbing up and down in an effort to stay afloat. Taren grabbed him and hoisted him over one shoulder, then swam to the riverbank and deposited him there as gently as possible. He flicked his tail once again, then reclaimed his human form as he pulled himself out of the water. That was when he realized he’d not only lost his clothing when he’d transformed, he’d lost the sword.
We’ll make do without a weapon
, he told himself. If they could avoid Odhrán’s men, they wouldn’t need it.

Brynn eyed Taren warily. This didn’t surprise Taren—he guessed Brynn had seen something of his Ea form, though he doubted he’d seen much. “How did you…?” he asked.

“I’m a strong swimmer.” Taren fought the urge to offer Brynn a hand up; he was quite sure Brynn wouldn’t take it anyhow. “We need to keep moving. Can you walk?”

“I can walk.” Brynn got to his feet and leaned against the wall of the cave. He looked a bit like a drowned rat with his hair plastered to his face and his trousers dripping wet. Taren wasn’t so sure, but he also wouldn’t argue with him.

They headed down the only tunnel in sight, slipping and sliding on the damp floor. From the smooth surface of these caves, Taren guessed the water itself had done the carving, whereas most of the other tunnels they’d explored appeared manmade. He doubted Odhrán and his men had created them, since the caves appeared far older than any of the pirates he’d seen. Hundreds of years old, perhaps.

Brynn tripped and fell, face-first, onto the hard stone. He whimpered as he struggled to stand up, then coughed and wheezed as he got to his hands and knees.

“You must let me carry you,” Taren said. This time Brynn allowed Taren to gather him into his arms. Brynn’s body trembled, though whether from fear or cold, Taren wasn’t sure. He knew only that if he didn’t get Brynn to safety soon, he would surely die.

Time seemed to move too slowly as he made his way through the narrow passages in the hopes of finding his way to the surface. Over and over again, he was forced to choose between several openings, and each time he hoped he’d chosen well. As he walked, he had the strange feeling he had passed this way before. The feeling grew stronger with every turn until he stopped and allowed himself a moment to think. No, not to think… to
feel
.

“Magic is natural, innate,”
Vurin had told him when he’d first come to live in Callaecia.
“Much is made of man’s ability to harness it, but it isn’t created by man at all—it is a part of nature. It’s something that has existed from the dawn of time. Something some of our people are able to harness. A gift from the goddess herself.”

“What’s wrong?” Brynn asked.

“There is magic here. Powerful magic.” Taren reached out and touched the cave wall. The sensation was much like what he’d experienced when they’d entered the harbor days before. Sensual. Different from the Ea magic he’d experienced, and yet also the same.

“How would you know about magic?”

Taren considered how he might answer the question without revealing his true nature. “I have a little experience with it.”

“Are you a mage?” Brynn looked up at him, eyes wide.

Taren laughed and shook his head. “I’m nothing.” How many times had he said that? He was beginning to believe he kept repeating it because he feared what it might mean to accept that he was something more.

“Can you defeat the magic?” Brynn asked.

Taren laughed and shook his head. “No. But someone once taught me how to see the truth behind magic.”

“You mean if it’s hiding something?”

“Aye. If this is meant to obscure the way, I might be able to see past it.” When Vurin had explained that he could do this, Taren hadn’t believed him.
“A mage imposes his will upon the world with his magic. If we don’t recognize it for what it is, we are bound by that will. But if we search for a deeper understanding and open our minds to it, we can see the truth beneath.”

He knew he had nothing to lose in the attempt, and much to gain. He did as Vurin taught him, closing his eyes and allowing the magic to fill him. Unlike the more utilitarian magic guarding Callaecia from the outside world, this magic felt colorful and alive. He heard music in his mind, beautiful and haunting, like a song sung in a voice unlike anything he’d ever heard. It reminded him of Ea heartsong—the mating call—but it was sad. Pained. Full of longing, it called to him, and he felt its… loneliness.