Chapter 17 Daesra
DAESRA
I ROW for what feels like days until my muscles cramp and the lake gets too shallow, spreading out like a still sapphire mirror across the horizon, even though all it reflects is the gloom of the sky between its deep blue shadows.
There’s no day or night here—only slightly lighter gray clouds on one side and darker on the other, and mostly in between.
Rather like the shades who inhabit this place.
Perhaps it’s for the best for us to get off the water, since heavy moods seem to set into Melé the longer we’re upon it, dropping her into silence—or, worse, silent tears—that Pogli’s constant licking can’t assuage. Even my blood only helps for a time.
Once we disembark from the boat with me carrying Melé to land, we unfortunately still have to skirt the lakeshore on our way to the seacoast, or else we’d have to dive deeper into the Plains of the Forgotten.
Which I absolutely want to avoid. I can glimpse them well enough from where we walk—shades wandering aimlessly in the distant mist or even simply standing among the scrubby trees, too much like tree trunks themselves, slackly hunched and unmoving, only staring into nothing.
The eerie sight makes my neck prickle, though I’d rather they act like that than charge us with bloodthirsty intention.
At least any roaming shades continue to avoid the lake—which makes sense, since it instills in them a deep misery in keeping with its name.
Even without being in the boat or touching the water, let alone swimming in it, Melé’s spirits sink lower and lower until a pattern emerges: Her pace slows, her tears begin to flow, and eventually she sits down on the ground, whether on a rock or even directly in the lake mud, and refuses to move for no identifiable reason.
Rather, she has reasons, but nothing beyond those she didn’t already have, further proof of the lake’s effect.
It’s then I give her my blood if there are no shades in sight.
Every time I give her my blood to restore her, a little more of my energy seeps away with it until that inevitable weariness begins to drag on my limbs once more.
But it’s either the lake or the plains, and I prefer the lack of company that the water affords, even though Melé probably doesn’t, based on her sad state.
And yet, if she doesn’t want me draining other shades out of either desperate hunger or defensive necessity, then this is the best route.
I’m not sure which would make me the worse son: letting her pay for the safety of those other souls with her own misery or disappointing her by monstrously devouring them.
That even I’ve begun to consider myself more and more her son isn’t a concession that provides any relief.
Caring what she thinks of me only adds to the weight on my shoulders.
She’s already dropped back again, Pogli sticking with her.
He’s either protective of her or still avoiding me—or both.
I try to ignore the sniffling and snuffling behind me, both Melé’s and Pogli’s, but can’t as they grow more distant.
I finally turn around in frustration to find her crumpled on the ground and the little chimera sitting with his tail uncurled and his squat chin resting on her knee.
His forehead is somehow even more wrinkled in consternation, his scrunched face resembling a dried plum.
“Come on, Melé, we have to keep going.” My tone is as gentle as possible as I stride back to her, though it’s admittedly getting less gentle the more worn I feel.
“Just leave me,” she murmurs, head down and voice shuddering, from the cradle of her arms.
“I’m not leaving you,” I snap, my impatience getting the best of me. Frowning at the mud, I crouch down in front of her, but she won’t look up at me.
“I’m only a trap set in your path.” Her shoulders hitch in a sob. “A burden.”
I wince, since I’d just been thinking of the weight of her judgment like that—but not her.
Besides, I need her as part of the deal with Horizon to bring back Sadaré, and yet I don’t imagine this would be the best time to mention that.
She would accuse me of keeping her with me for that reason alone.
But that’s not the only reason. I take in her huddled shape on the ground, and something fierce and hot and protective rises in my chest. There I was, worried about how Melé might feel about me, when this is what’s been bothering her in the deepest depths of her woe: how I might feel about her.
“You’re not a burden,” I insist. “Just… a surprise. I never hoped to see you again—”
“Because you hate me,” she wails into her arms.
I shake my head sharply, even though she can’t see it.
“No. I mean I never allowed myself to hope I would see you again. I didn’t think it was possible, and I didn’t think you would be happy to see me if I did.
” A bit like my fears regarding Sadaré, come to think of it.
“I don’t hate you, you foolish creature.
You’re—you’re my—” The word still gets caught in my throat, giving her a chance to cut me off again.
“I am a fool!” she cries, raising her head to reveal tear-soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
“I fell in love with a god and neglected my son until he left me to become a daemon and another god killed me.” She throws out her hand.
“And even though my son is a god now, too, he still can’t wait to be rid of me!
” Burying her head in her arms once more, she moans again, “Please just leave me.”
“I don’t want to be rid of you!” My voice climbs until it strains. “I’m only afraid to be around you long enough for you to hate me.”
“Why would I hate you?” She sniffs loudly and lifts her head to peer at me with genuine confusion through her swollen lids. “You’re my son.”
“Because I’m not a good son,” I say helplessly.
And then I want to shake myself as much as I want to shake her. This isn’t about me, even though I’ve only been selfishly thinking of myself this entire time.
Horizon’s words echo helpfully back at me. Everything is not wholly about you, my son, as much as it might surprise you to hear it.
My voice comes out firm as I duck my head to hold her gaze. “But you are a good mother—Mother,” I emphasize.
She hiccups, her eyes widening. “I am?”
“You are. And I’m very lucky to be able to see you again. I only hope I don’t damn it all to hell.”
Her brow abruptly furrows. “Did I teach you to speak that way?” And then she covers her mouth in surprise, as if she shouldn’t have voiced such motherly disapproval to a god.
I might be a god, but I’m still her son. I press my lips together, half smiling, half apologetic.
She giggles behind her hand.
My own grin breaks free. “I’m afraid I’ve learned a few things in the past hundred or so years that you most assuredly didn’t teach me. So, at the very least, you can’t blame yourself for my behavior.”
“Maybe you can teach me, then.” Despite her shy tone, she sits up straighter. Pogli immediately perks up, his tail re-curling and twitching a few times in a tentative wiggle.
I grimace in mock horror. “Gods, no! You were just granted entrance to the Blessed Isles. You wouldn’t want to utterly ruin your chances of making it there, now, would you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “You’re not going there.”
I regard her carefully. This is the first time she’s mentioned any vague interest in following me, herself. “No, I’m not.” I tip my head at her. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me, then?”
Such a vulnerable, tender expression overcomes her features that my heart twists in my chest—breaking, just a little.
I’ve been such an abominable ass to her.
She took care of me for so long, and yet it never occurred to me to do the same for her beyond dragging her behind me like an unfeeling satchel.
I’m her son, but I’m also older and far more powerful than her, and I have supposedly learned a few things over the years.
Perhaps it’s my turn to take care of her.
Maybe there’s still time to do better, despite how little of it we have.
I offer her my hand. “I meant if you’d like to come with me after all of this. But you should absolutely come with me now because that mud is not working to your benefit.”
This time, she slides her hand into mine with an embarrassed laugh, and I lift her to her feet—not even needing my blood to manage it.
I give her fingers a light squeeze. “Let’s go.”
She takes a deep breath, and hand in hand, we walk alongside the lakeshore together. Pogli trots so happily between us that I don’t even mind whenever he nearly trips me.
Not long after, the oppression of the lake lifts from both us and the landscape at nearly the same time.
Suddenly, we can glimpse an end to the water, a strip of gray land on the horizon.
But our victory is short-lived, because before long, the mud turns to gray sand, and the edge of the dark sea rises in its place—a far worse body of water than the lake could ever be.
Even cupped in the arms of the massive bay, it’s just as monstrous-looking as it was on the other side of the mountains. Just as soul-leeching.
For a terrible, desperate moment, I feel like I can relate to it more than ever.
Melé’s grip tightens in mine, drawing my attention from the waves. “Isha’s fortress.” Her voice is quiet, awed, and terrified all at the same time.
Distant towers poke up from the waves offshore like pale teeth, but this is no ruin like the structures I saw before, even if it looks made of bone.
It’s on an island—the island that’s the gateway to the Blessed Isles.
But I don’t care about what lies beyond it, only those walls that hold Sadaré against her will.