Vyncent awoke to a familiar scent.
Though the pleasurable sway of the great blooms had weakened, he still found himself at ease, finding comfort in a bed of soft fuzzy leaves that gave of a sweet smell when crushed. He sprang up as if stuck by a needle when he remembered the raid at Ralmes, however. How did I get here?
Ferangis was absent. The spring was empty and all he could hear was the tinkling of the water in the stone around him. His belly filled with dread, worrying about those left behind in Ralmes. He ran up the stone steps, but at the top, he saw that a mass of roots had grown through the walls to seal him in. Even if he started hacking at them with his dagger, which he still had on his belt, it would take him days to get through.
This is Fera's doing, Vyncent realized, running his fingers through the wet pale roots. She must have a reason to keep me here. Yet, his loneliness made him wonder if he was the only survivor of the attack. He sighed. Vyncent tried to put the fear out of his head and looked at the spring below. He had not washed in a long while, and a good soak would clear his mind. There was nothing else to do, to be sure, until Ferangis returned.
At the edge of the water, he stripped off his winter rags and tossed his tunic, breeches, and small clothes over the pile. The warm waters soothed him as he lowered himself, the moist air rising and entering through his mouth and nose. There was a step carved in the water that allowed him to sit, the water's surface just below his armpits.
His eyelids felt heavy. The fragrance of the mammoth blooms and the caress of the spring's heat threatened to put him to sleep. Or so he thought.
He shut his eyes for a moment, only a moment. But when he tried to open them, his body refused him. The warming waters froze him in place, and he felt the treacherous waves washing over his neck. He panicked as he felt the waves lap against his chin and lips. Am I sinking? Or is the cavern flooding?
The water suddenly rushed over to swallow him whole, forcing itself into his mouth and stomach. He could only taste the salt in the water, but when he found he could open his eyes, the taste of honey graced his tongue. In half a heartbeat, he savored a hundred spices, most he had never tasted before in his life.
He wasn't drowning, his breathing unobstructed despite his submersion. The stone behind him had disappeared and he was in the ocean, the summer sun shining down through the water above him. He swam upwards and broke through the surface. A sandy shore was not far off.
There was a small boat beached near where he set foot on land. Beyond the dense forest of exotic trees stood towers, great and small. One, the tallest of them all, was crowned with a circle of white light.
Coming out of the shallows, the sands were hot against his feet. He sprinted for the shade of the cliffs ahead of him. As he neared them, however, he heard voices echoing out of a passageway where the cliffs split. He sidled against the rock wall, not knowing if those coming were a threat to him or not; he was still naked as well, but the tall grasses growing at the cliff's foot covered most of him.
It sounded like there was an argument between the ones who approached. One man and one woman. Though their language was unknown to him, as they got closer, his mind seemed to translate it into his tongue. Whoever allowed him to see all this had given him a gift, it seemed.
"You would trust her … to even speak to her," spat the woman. Her voice sounded familiar. "Rayhanei lies! She has always been our enemy."
"And why?" The man sounded irritated. "Why has she always been our enemy?" It seemed the woman didn't respond quickly enough, so the man said: "See? Nobody knows. Nobody knows who started such an ancient conflict. Who is to say we are the weeds and her the crop?"
As they came closer, by footfalls, Vyncent judged there were more than just the quarreling pair. Another voice confirmed his suspicion.
"Hah! What nonsense! You're just a coward." This voice belonged to a man, his voice was booming and harsh. "You two will find nothing but death in the lands beyond. Abandon this farce and face your punishment with courage." Though his tone was quite different, Vyncent recognized the man's voice.
"Cowards need something to fear to be cowards, Pyran," the other man retorted, "at this moment, I fear nothing. Not Farrok's punishment. Not the lands beyond. Nothing."
There was a third man who spoke, this one sounding younger than the rest, saying: "If you claim to be the strongest and bravest among the nepheri, why don't you join us? Surely, you are bored with this isle with no one to best you?"
Four in total, the party set foot on the sand, not noticing Vyncent as they passed him. It is her, silently mused Vyncent after seeing the woman, Ferangis. She wore a dress of white petals and green leaves. Indeed, one of the men was Pyran, large and muscular. The other two he did not know, though one of them looked like him. The one who shared his looks had long unruly black hair that was long enough to brush his buttocks and eyes like gray ice.
Pyran snorted derisively at his challenger. "I will not abandon those I must protect, Hylmalus. If it wasn't for my family, the Waif would be sitting the throne of Avalyne, and all of us in her brambles."
"Won't have to worry about Rayhanei's thorns in the lands beyond," quipped the younger fellow. He shared the same eyes Vyncent had as well. He had dyed some of his hair, leaving streaks of violet in his dark locks. He was a beautiful youth, never had he seen a man so handsome: his eyes laughed and his cheekbones, high and fine. "Perhaps there are other seas," Hylmalus said to himself. "Maybe isles like this one? Oh, but settled with none but the lustful beauties. The games I could teach them, and the games they could teach me!" He tittered at his fantasies.
The elder ignored his companion's ribald musings and faced Pyran. "I'm certain Lynesse's family will see you as a suitable husband for her," the black-haired nepher assured, "they shall smile upon you as they had smiled upon me."
The younger nepher, excited about the journey, jumped into the small boat on the shore and gripped one of the oars. "Come now, cousin," Hylmalus said, joyfully, to the older black-haired nepher. "I only grow more impatient!"
"Vysse … " Ferangis called out softly to the elder who began to push the boat. "Will you … return?" Her anger had melted into cheerlessness.
Vysse turned to her, his expression face now solemn. For a moment, there was silence amongst the quartet. Vysse and Ferangis's eyes were locked.
"I may never return," Vysse finally said, "what's inside me and Lynesse … soon she will understand the truth of this curse as well… if there is a remedy for it, I will come back. If not, maybe the esper will die with me."
Ferangis whipped her face from Vysse to hide her tears. Vyncent frowned at his bluntness, guilty that he upset her. Before getting in the boat, he turned to Pyran. "No matter what happens on this isle," said Vysse sincerely, "keep them from harm, yes?"
Pyran bristled and nodded. "I've never faltered, my friend," he assured.
Vysse mussed his little cousin's black and violet hair. "It's time we left," he said to him with half a smile. He waved at his friends on the shore. "Farewell … " Vysse looked as if though he had more to say, but he seemed to choke on his words. Vyncent could see a tear glisten on his cheek.
When Vysse's boat was a nothing more than a speck in the blue waters, Vyncent felt heat at his side. The grass began to burn to his right, the flames rapidly approaching. He flung himself out onto the sands, which had grown cold. Above, the sky darkened. Leaden clouds smothered the sun, thickening and thundering. Soon enough, it was as dark as dusk, but the blaze of the grass and now the forest beyond raged against the darkness.
Frightened, Vyncent flew to the water's edge. He blinked. When he opened his eyes, the waters were red with blood. What? Who … Vyncent saw dead men in the waters, arrows with crystalline tips burrowed in them through their boiled leathers and mail. War vessels were beached, some with shattered hulls and alight with a rainbow of flame. Men cried out as they fought nepheri, who were aided by their bestial companions.
Nepheri archers poured out of the great crevices in the cliff, their bizarre crystal-tipped arrows aimed in his direction. The gift of understanding them had been lost, and the orders they shouted were enigmatic. From the sea charged men with steel in hand. An axeman two feet away from Vyncent took one of the arrows to his chest; the glassy head exploded into flame as soon as it bit. Fully engulfed, the axeman flung himself into the sea, crying for his allies to save him. One man with a black iron warhammer, shrieked as he tried to pull a shaft out of his shoulder; his flesh blackened as frost crawled down his arm and toward his neck. The hand he used to grip it began to freeze, too.
Vyncent heard the arrows whistle as they flew dangerously close to his ears. He threw himself into the reddening sea, warmed by death. The warriors seemed to ignore him as he made his retreat. He dove. Below the waves, he begged for the waters to take him back to the spring.
A green light rushed to meet him, hoping his plea had been heard. Millions of green leaves swallowed and eyes as green as spring fixed on him, shining through the murk. The greenery wrapped around him and took the form of a woman's body. He looked away, the radiant eyes too bright to bear.
The water fell from his head and shoulders, and he had returned to the cavern.
Ferangis faced him, her fair skin and copper hair drenched. Her knees rested on the bench, and her arms outstretched on either side of Vyncent, her hands resting on the edge of the pool. In one hand she held a twisted horn, a keepsake from last night's raid, Vyncent concluded. Seated between her arms and legs, Vyncent found his gaze falling to her bare breasts, rivulets of spring water running between them and dripping off her pink nipples. He shifted uncomfortably, uselessly trying to hide his arousal. When she spoke, he was reminded of his courtesies and looked up at her.
"I did not expect you to wake so soon," she said softly, unbothered by his awkward admiration. She did nothing to cover herself. There was a large scar across her belly, a once deep gash, and the flesh of her upper arm looked to have been chewed violently. She was healing, to be sure, and rapidly at that. "The spring is sanative to nepheri," she explained, seeing him grimace at her wounds. "After we lost our home on the isle my father enchanted small places, hidden and unbeknownst to humans. Before he died, he taught me all the tricks of flori he knew. This is the only cavern I've ever touched, however."
"I …" Vyncent found it hard to speak. "I saw you," I finally said, "you and Pyran on the beach."
"That was the Isle of Myri, centuries ago. You have seen my dreams. My soul is quite open when I try to see."
"To see?"
"Through the eyes of nature and spirit," Ferangis clarified, "Pyran has his bowls. I have this spring."
Vyncent recalled the nepheri on the boat. "There was another on the shore. Him."
"Him," Ferangis repeated, sorrow light in her voice. "Vysse. Oh, how I loved him. But all his heart belonged to Lynesse. They could never be, he knew. Yet when I confessed to him, offered my love, he … " She clutched the horn hard in frustration. Ferangis studied Vyncent's face. "You have his mien. His scent …" she made her face close to his.
"Fera …" Vyncent could scarcely move or speak, his heart pounding and his face surely red as a beet.
She drew back suddenly. "… but he is gone. I best remember that lest, more suffer." Ferangis climbed out of the spring. "The desires of nepheri rarely come without desolation following. Perhaps it is because of us the realm of man has forgotten peace." She stopped at the mouth of a passageway in the rock wall. "Once you've cleaned yourself, we will depart."
Vyncent remembered something. "Ferangis," Vyncent called out to her before she could leave, "has Lady Lombrea been found?"
Ferangis studied the horn in her hand. "Yes," she said, "through the spirit in one of the beasts, I saw her escape with the pack." Ferangis grimaced. "The Waif in the Weeds had corrupted her, heart and soul. She deceived us."
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