Oriana's Eyes (16 page)

Once Piper and Lily have gone, Tor turns to the rest of us. “I can’t agree with any of you leaving tomorrow, but I must insist that some of you men remain here. The more eyes to watch the skies tomorrow, the better.” With that he exits somberly, and I wonder if maybe my actions have betrayed him. I still refuse to carry out his bidding and remain here. I could never forgive myself for denying Malise and Aaron rescue as soon as possible.

“Weasel and Buck, you two stay here. I have to agree with Tor, cautious actions must be taken at the meadow. We can’t afford to go running back and forth trying to save more captured children.”

Buck wraps a burly arm around Weasel’s neck. “Me ’n’ Weasey will keep watch. He’s got the sight of a hawk with them big eyes of his.” Buck lets out a rumbling laugh while Weasel shakes his head and grins, still caught by Buck’s forearm.

We begin to stand, an air of apprehension settling upon us despite a definite course of action. I notice Liam still sitting beside Azura. I haven’t spoken to him since my first dinner at the Great Oak. My first impressions were not entirely warm, but I did sense there was more to him than his harsh words. I watch him staring forlornly at Azura’s slender figure, her chin tilted upward, her tangle of curls cascading over her shoulders. I admire her cunning, her ability to turn proposition into action. I can tell Liam is seeing the same in her, yet he finds it frightening. He grasps her with his dark ruby eyes, like fingers into water. Azura is unaware, or is she? Does she see his devoted glances?

I know Liam doubts both Dorian’s abilities to perform as well as the solidity of Tor’s plans. Yet he knows Azura trusts Dorian, maybe even that she loves him. Despite it all, Liam remains at Azura’s side. Somehow I see this in his eyes. Somehow I can tell he’s ready to follow Azura into the depths of Odon’s caves, no matter what he believes.

He looks tired as he gets to his feet to follow her out of the meeting hall. I wish she would turn to see him, but Azura is deep in conversation with Finley about the safest actions tomorrow at the open field.

The weight of Dorian’s hand in mine reminds me of his presence still beside me. We follow the others out of the room side by side. It has already gotten dark, and I shiver in the night air having left my cloak in my room. Dorian’s arm is around me at once, and I am drawn into a moment of peace. I look up into his eyes, dark blue as the twilight’s sky, making me think he could never turn against us. That he is as steady as the cycling moon, as grounded as the roots of the Oak beneath us.

“I need to talk to you alone,” he whispers into my ear. I wrap my arms around his waist, our bodies pressed together. I am so fragile within his arms, and I sigh at the feeling of protection, safe from anything outside them. Dorian’s hand strokes my hair down my back. I know what he wants to tell me. He wants me to stay here, safe, if not in his arms, then in the arms of the Great Oak where nothing can harm me. But I am not a child, I have a will of my own, and I can no longer let another decide for me. I will give him his moment to try and convince me, but nothing he can say will change my decision to go.

I tilt my head upward. “All right, but not here. We can go to my room.”

 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Dorian and I face each other in the center of the room, neither of us eager for this talk that could lead to another argument. I light the lamp sitting on the dresser nearby, and its flickering light casts ominous shadows across our faces, the secrets and hidden emotions between us. I can see Dorian’s eyes clearly. They have taken on a distant look. His eyebrows are narrowed as if he is in pain.

I extend my fingers to brush against his unshaven cheek. He has changed since the time we first met. His hair is disheveled, his skin darkened by the sun. He has fallen further into wildness. Has he been tormented by the task that lies ahead of him? I wish I could take away the desperation in his eyes, but his destiny was prescribed long before I was ever born, and it will remain to be fulfilled.

He reaches up and takes my hand. My touch awakens him from his thoughts. His smile warms me, and I smile back.

“Oriana, I sense the approach of the Rebirth. I can feel it within me. Not just the nearing event or my responsibilities, but the rise of something else, something powerful. It’s as if I’m being slowly drowned, that it might overcome me, take control.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense. So many things are happening at once. It’s getting hard to find peace”—he reaches for my other hand—“except with you, Oriana. You make me see things the way they truly are. You take away the jumble of emotions inside me and leave me with one …”

I look at him oddly unable to hold back. “You’ve been so distant lately. I hardly ever see you, and when I do, you mostly have harsh words to say.” The statement comes easily, and yet it sounds as if another person is saying it.

Dorian’s eyelids fall as if struck by a heavy blow. I think at first he will not answer me, but at last he sighs. “I have certain reasons for that, not good reasons, but reasons nonetheless.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you going to explain them to me?”

“I… there’s no excuse for my anger; for that I blame only my own weaknesses. But for our time spent apart? The truth is … my own motives were to keep you from following me to the Rebirth.” Dorian releases my hands, approaches the bed, and collapses onto it, rubbing his forehead with probing fingers. “Perhaps that was part of the reason why I caused you pain, to keep you away. I’m too dangerous now, and I fear what might happen to you if you were to become a part of the plans. I know I would completely lose control if anything happened to you.”

My features soften. I take my place next to him on the bed. “That is the reason? You are worried about me?” I run my fingers through his hair, blacker than the shadows of the room.

“I can tell it hasn’t worked, I just can’t keep myself away from you.” He smiles, catching my hand in his and kissing it, a glint of mischief in his eye. Yet he falters, and our hands slowly settle onto the space of bed between us. “I’d be lying if I said that’s the only reason.”

I feel a twinge of foreboding in my stomach and a lump in my throat. What else could possibly go wrong?

He notices my concern and waves a hand trying to wipe it away. “It’s nothing we can be certain about … but Tor believes something happened to you when you were inside Odon’s caves.” He pauses. “It’s probably better not to speak of …”

I remember Finley’s mention of an injury I had gotten. He was reluctant as well to explain it to me. “But what does that have to do with us?”

“Tor thinks we might be a danger to each other …” Suddenly Dorian fumes with anger, and his hand clenches. “If Odon has hurt you in any way … I swear I’ll—”

“To each other? You mean I might be harmful to you?”

“Never!” Dorian’s hand cups my cheek, “We only thought it better to let you heal on your own, to keep you from worrying about my obligations. Yet it hasn’t seemed to work, Oriana, you appear to be growing ill, becoming weaker.”

His words worry me. What if Tor knows something I don’t? What if somehow I am a danger to Dorian? He is right: I have lost my usual energy, and despite my days in the sunlight, my skin is paler, my hair without its luster. “Dorian … what if I’m a threat to you? It could be possible … if Odon—”

Dorian pulls me close to him. “No, you could never; If anything, I have been causing you harm. I’ve left you alone in a place that is still new to you, and now you’re sick and leaving, and I can’t even go with you to protect you!”

I look up at him. “I’ll be fine. Somehow I know I will return.” I want to say,
My role in this life has not yet been achieved
or
I must be by your side at the Rebirth
, but Dorian can’t know of all that.

We forget about dinner lying beside one another. Dorian’s arm creates a shield around me, his breath against my neck. His familiar smell of evergreens and everything natural lulls me into darkness.

Deep in my consciousness, I feel
him
there. He seems closer than ever, and in my weakness I know I can no longer run and escape his gaze. My legs are heavy, my heart beats on the verge of bursting. There is endless blackness, and yet I know I am trapped—unable to move, to run, to scream for help. I feel the whiteness start to well up. It fills my eyes. I am vulnerable, stripped, naked, and cold. It freezes my skin, which has turned as white as this light, a light that emanates no heat. He is searching my mind, clearing a pathway to all my secrets, my private thoughts. I realize it is not the lack of clothes that causes my nakedness, for I have no body in this place, but the lack of boundaries. As if a door has been opened into my skull for those eyes to violate. It probes with needled fingers, attempting to cast my final resistance aside and begin sifting through memories. I find myself pushing against the invisible force, straining to protect my mind, to keep from melding with his.

But it’s no use. I’ve lost my usual energy. I’ve been drained from fighting night after night. I realize that even in waking I struggle, although it is easier to find myself when I am attached to my physical form. It’s the nights when I become weak, and it’s then that he strikes with utmost urgency. In my final efforts I feel the cold of his gaze numb what barriers remain. He smiles, yet I do not see it; there is no seeing, only sensing. There is no more resisting. I await the moment when he shatters the glasslike surface of my mind with one crushing blow. I tremble in place, bracing myself for the piercing pain.

The cold is so fierce that it turns hot, spreading through me in translucent veins. I realize suddenly that it isn’t the cold but in fact a separate warmth. I sense him still near, confusion building in a cloud around him. He backs away, cringing from the heat as an eye from the sun. A new energy pulses through me, but it is not my own. The white shrinks away, receding back into those penetrating eyes, bleeding into their irises. I burn with a new strength, and the laughter that follows is my own, a triumphant cry as he moves back, fleeing from this fresh and foreign power.

I slowly surge into the space behind my eyes, feeling as though I have finished a pleasantly fulfilling dream, one far from memory but nonetheless satisfying. I open my eyes to find myself in Dorian’s warm embrace; his steady breathing and stillness tell me he is still asleep. There is something moving about his touch. Watching his peacefulness slowly draws my eyelids downwards, and when I finally fall into a light doze, my dreams are of birds and fireflies soaring among the branches of an ancient tree in a time that is neither night nor day yet both.

When I awaken again, I feel more rested than ever before. I find that my cheek is pressed against Dorian’s chest, while my arm drapes across his stomach. I sit up, my eyes easily opening, and my body moves with a refreshed strength. I notice Dorian is awake as well, as I stretch my arms over my head. We make eye contact, and he grins, unable to keep from snatching me into his arms and kissing me swiftly. When we finally separate, Dorian’s eyes study me curiously.

He runs a finger along my jawline. “You seem different.”

I laugh, “I feel different.”

With a new lightness in my step, I walk with Dorian. The platforms are damp and cool, the roof of each cottage holds pools of water that display the result of a late-night rainfall. Apparitions of fog float in the notches of the Great Oak’s arms, looking like great webs of glittering orbs. I pull my cloak further up my neck. The sun’s rays are still unable to penetrate the veil of clouds and gathered moisture. The canopy has erupted with birdsong, proving that nature sees every day as one worth singing about.

I dare a glance at Dorian to find him lost in his own thoughts. I wonder if I somehow fit into them. It is in this moment that he turns to find me watching him and quickly takes my hand, as if I might dissolve into the air like one of the many wraiths of mist.

We make it to the lower level heavily dampened by the thick air. I can’t wait to remove my cape, which now bears down on my shoulders. As we approach the dining hall’s entrance, I see Liam and Azura attempting to speak in hushed tones that sound more like restrained hisses. Clearly they are having a disagreement of some kind. Neither has noticed us as Dorian and I come within range of their discussion.

“Azura, if you will not stay, then I am coming with you,” Liam presses. His face is half hidden beneath a mahogany cape and bent close to Azura, whose frustration is clearly framed by an emerald hood.

“That’s ridiculous! Finley has already elected to go; there’s no need for you to come as well.” She makes to enter the building, but he grabs her by the arm.

“What’s ridiculous is … is …” Liam’s grip seems firmer than he may have intended, and Azura yanks her arm away, her face aghast. The movement causes her hood to fall back, revealing a mass of curls that have formed more magnificently than ever in the humidity. Liam shakes his head, reaching toward her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She lets her face fall. “This is something I have to go through with. I don’t care about the danger, I can’t let …” Then she sees Dorian and me emerge from the mist. Liam, following her look, turns to greet us with a nod, guiding his hood back to fall at his shoulders.

Azura smiles, taking on a formal air. “Good, I’m glad to see you both. The sooner Oriana and I start learning the counts, the better. I want us both to be well schooled.”

If Dorian heard that bit of conversation as I did, he makes no apparent sign of it. “I agree, I want both of you to be well prepared.”

I squeeze Dorian’s hand, realizing that he does not like my decision to leave but has accepted it. Perhaps in a way he too wishes he could rescue Malise and her brother, but for him that is impossible. Dorian is too valuable to risk going. It surprises me that he entered the caves for Azura and me. Did Tor realize then that he needed me? That somehow I would become a key element in Dorian’s success against Odon? Or maybe Dorian insisted on going, just as I am set on leaving now.

Liam follows us in silence. I know what he is thinking, what he really wanted to say to Azura but could not manage to. His worry seemed to come out as anger, criticism. In reality, Liam cannot bear to see Azura injured or worse. Watching him, I see the fear behind his melancholy eyes, fear that he could lose her forever. I begin thinking of ways to convince Azura to let him come. Somehow I feel it will help ease his concerns.

Before finding our seats, I follow Dorian to the fire where we each place our capes to dry upon a pegged rack situated nearby. I see that others have already settled their own cloaks upon most of the wooden pegs. I already feel more spirited. The blazes keep the building warm, drawing away the air’s moisture and adding light to awaken heavy eyes. We take our seats, and Dorian begins to explain the basics of our plans.

Azura pulls out a pencil and parchment from her dress pocket and readies her hand.

“That won’t help once you’re inside the cave,” Dorian points out. “It’ll be too dark, and you’ll waste too much time trying to read it by torchlight.”

“I realize that!” she snaps. “It just helps me remember.” She gives a shrug and then proceeds to write.

Dorian begins with the first tunnel, the number of guards, and how often they pass based on the number of steps heard at the entranceway.

“You must wait until they pass and the sound of their footsteps dies away. Then count to three and run twenty paces past three caves, two on your right and one on your left.” Dorian recites the numbers with a concentrated stare, yet the calculations flow from him easily. He must have been working for some time on the plans. How did he figure them out?

By the fifth tunnel, when I’ve already forgotten most of what the first few tunnels contained and have mixed up the numbers of the rest, I am compelled to ask, “How did you possibly figure these calculations out?”

He stops abruptly. “It took time, lots of it.”

Azura crosses her arms, leaning her elbows on the tabletop across from us. “I can assure you it was a very long time.”

My eyes narrow, and Dorian can tell I’m not entirely convinced. I need more information.

“…but also some clever thinking,” he adds, giving in to my inquiry.

I raise an eyebrow, intending him to continue.

“Well …” He scratches the back of his head, unsure where to begin. “I began by using the same methods as when I was at the University. Counting footsteps always worked for me. In the case of the tunnel, it was not so easy. I had to not only avoid the guards, but find the right passages. I camped out in the caves, memorizing how far I had gone and which tunnels I had taken. I went over and over them in my mind to make sure I had it right so that I could still leave them safely. After many days I had no choice but to find my way out. I had run out of supplies. I returned to the Great Oak to discuss plans with Tor.”