Chapter 28 #2
She smiled, then got lost in the crowd as Thallahan began playing.
The three women showed great patience in being led across the deck by the clumsy sailors, though Gaeren noticed Aeliana was just as bad.
He supposed she hadn’t had much training in the finer arts of dancing while being carted around Lorvandas by two Zealots and their blood magic.
Even so, the flush in her cheeks made it clear she enjoyed it, and he was quick to agree when she tugged him out on the deck for a dance.
He chuckled as she stepped on his toes, then tightened his grip, forcing her to let him lead.
It took her a while to relinquish the control, but when she realized their steps were smoother from his training, she gave in to following him.
He grinned down at her, appreciating the way her lips pursed in concentration as she studied their feet.
Her right hand felt rough against his, the scars of her past a painful barrier between them.
It didn’t matter that he’d been a child.
He would always feel responsible for all she’d gone through, and he still felt burdened to protect her.
He tightened his hold on the small of her back, drawing her slightly closer, and his bond mark twinged.
As they spun, he caught sight of Larkos on the other side of the main mast where he watched their revelry from the helm, a knowing look in his eye. Their earlier talk of bonds came back to Gaeren’s mind, making him miss a step as he grew flustered.
Aeliana laughed, and his skin’s tingling response made Gaeren further aware of the way he felt more alive in her presence.
His heart beat faster and his starlock warmed against his chest. In this moment, the idea of cutting out his bond mark was clearly not an act to free Lenda but rather an act to free himself.
Except he still didn’t know if that made it any more right or any more wrong.
“Whale on starboard!” a sailor in the crow’s nest called down just as a gentle nudge against the ship knocked Aeliana closer into Gaeren’s embrace. He tightened his grip to steady her, and her eyes grew wide.
“A whale?”
“They’re harmless,” he said.
She scanned the deck as if it might suddenly appear on board, but her gaze landed on Velden. “Is there such a thing as a giant squid?”
The sudden change of topic made Gaeren pause. “You mean the kraken? They exist, but they stay in the deepest parts of the water. Sometimes I wonder if they’re a bit like Durriken and maybe only one or two still exist. I’d love to see if Riveran could tame one. All creatures seem to take to him.”
The music stopped, and several of the Recreants stepped to the side of the boat to glimpse the whale. Aeliana and Gaeren joined them, and she exclaimed in delight as the whale shot water from its blowhole.
“Have you heard Velden’s story about his Awakening?” she asked.
“He told you about his Awakening?” Awakenings were private affairs by tradition, but maybe Velden’s Sayhleen background left him more open about it. For all Gaeren knew, Sayhleens might share their story with everyone they met. Still… “I think any story told by Velden is likely exaggerated.”
Her carefree smile widened, drawing his gaze. “That’s a good point.”
As the whale moved on, the others returned to gather around the main mast, but Thallahan had a glass of ale in his hands and seemed to be taking a break from his fiddle.
“Any chance you’re as good a storyteller as your father?” Cyrus asked Brogdon.
Gaeren tensed, wondering if the question would offend Brogdon. But the petite man just smiled and shook his head. “No one could tell stories like my father.”
A few people raised their glasses, and the gazes around the circle of sailors and Recreants grew more solemn.
“And no one could burn food like Breeve,” Thallahan added, bringing about a round of chuckles and more raised glasses.
“They’re in a better place now,” Cyrus said. While Gaeren believed that to be true, it didn’t remove his sorrow that they’d been taken from the world too soon.
“Maybe Velden could tell us a bit about Sayhla Island,” Gaeren suggested.
“He’s never been there,” Aeliana said.
“True,” Velden admitted, swirling his glass of rum as if it were fine wine at a dinner party. “But my mother spoke of her homeland often. It was clear she missed Paelen’s Waters and Sayhla Island whenever she was here. Always made me wonder why she didn’t just stay there.”
“Probably because she loved you more,” Iris said.
Velden smiled wistfully. “My mother was beautiful, I’m guessing even for a Sayhleen.
She had red scales from the waist down with a single tail and fin, which spread out like a rainbow of shimmery skin.
She told me they all have different colors and shades, and some have two fins while others have none. ”
“Is it true that some are like sirens and others more like people?” a sailor asked.
“Sirens haven’t been seen since the Great Divide.” Velden set down his glass. “They’re predators, like lions of the sea. They reel men in with their wordless songs to devour them. My mother was nothing like that, and she never gave me the impression that the other Sayhleens were either.”
He held up his webbed hands before his own eyes, as if seeing them for the first time.
“But you’re right that physically they’re probably a cross between the two.
On land, they look and function like half-lights, but in water, they all form gills and scales, allowing them to dive deeper than any warm-blooded half-light should be able to.
Some only gain webbed hands and feet like me, while others form full tails and fins below their waist.” His tone turned forlorn.
What would they find on Sayhla Island? If they ever managed to find the starbridge in Andel…
“It’s said they were cursed or blessed by the sprites,” Velden said, “depending on how you look at it. A man came to them asking for the ability to dive deep and swim leagues. They twisted his request into forming a new race, subjecting him and his family to a life so tied to the water they could never leave.”
“That definitely sounds like the sprites,” Gaeren muttered.
Velden’s eyebrows rose in satisfaction. “And yet…they worship the sprites.”
“What?” Cyrus asked, his face holding the same shock that Gaeren felt.
“Think about it.” Velden leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Vendarans worship the Sun because they believe it created them. Lorvandans worship the Stars because they believe they created them. If Sayhleens believe sprites created them, why would they not worship them?”
“Because they’re terribly cruel?” Gaeren suggested, and Riveran snorted from beside him.
“Well, where do the sprites come from?” Cyrus asked.
“Where do the winex come from?” Sylmar countered. “Or the dragons? They’re created the same as any other creature.”
Gaeren frowned. He supposed that made sense. But unlike the winex and dragon, who seemed to have the choice to seek good or evil, all the sprites seemed bent on twisting truth and causing havoc.
“That might be a better question for Orra,” Gaeren said. “There’s something evil about the sprites. I’m not sure how they could have been created by the Sun just like anything else.”
Cyrus nodded, his show of support surprising when he still likely believed the Stars to be the creators.
Riveran leaned over, his words for Gaeren’s ears only. “I’ve thought the same ever since that blackness came out of the one I killed.”
Gaeren stilled as his mind went back to the moment they’d escaped the sprites.
It had been chaos, and they still didn’t know which deal the sprites had taken, if any.
But Riveran had killed the sprite they’d bartered with, and in that moment, a darkness had fluttered out of the sprite and escaped from the cave.
Gaeren had wondered if they’d released something far worse into the world with that action, but then he’d forgotten about it. Now, Riveran’s reminder combined with more recent events brought a truth that made him go cold all over, despite the warmer breezes in the southern currents.
“It was a dark spirit,” Gaeren whispered.
“What?” Riveran asked.
“I saw them enter Arvid and Mayvus. The dark spirits that feed on blood magic. I thought the ones in Myndren were the first I’d seen, but you’re right. A dark spirit came from the sprite.”
“What are you saying?” Riveran asked. “That the sprites fuse with dark spirits? That they’re doing blood magic?”
Gaeren shook his head slowly, remembering the way the dark spirit had been evident in Arvid and Mayvus, how their eyes had turned black and smoke had come from their ears and nose.
The cold darkness he’d sensed from the spirits hadn’t been present in the cave.
Not until Riveran had killed the sprite.
“I’m saying we may not know where sprites come from, but now we know where dark spirits come from. They’re dead sprites.”