Forged in Fire, page 2
“Do I?” Owyn murmured.
“You share the weight. It will be easier, when we find the others, I think.” Aria closed her eyes and sighed. “The sun feels good.”
Owyn looked at her, admiring the lines of her, the curve of her back down to her waist, and the sweet, soft flare of her hips to her arse. She’d told both Aven and him that she wouldn’t have sex with either of them until she was sure that she would not come away pregnant. He admired her restraint — he didn’t think he’d have been able to say no. Not when faced with two people who both adored him and who were willing to do whatever it took to make him happy. He closed his eyes, remembering the big bed back in Meris’ house, being in Aven’s arms, with Aria touching them both. He’d stopped them then, before they’d gone too far, because he wasn’t sure that his need was his own, or the remnants of the drugs he’d been fed. Now he regretted it.
He heard Aria gasp, and looked up in time to see the long, sinuous form arch out of the water. Aven’s tail gleamed in the sun, looking like molten silver as he dove back down into the water. Aria burst out laughing.
“Did you see him?” she asked. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Yeah,” Owyn breathed, and shifted, trying to ease the ache in his groin.
He was definitely regretting stopping now.
CHAPTER TWO
AVEN REAPPEARED, AND swam toward the shore. Owyn hadn’t noticed Memfis standing near the edge, not until his adopted father waded into the water and took a long string of fish and the javelin from Aven. He waved one hand toward the rocks; Aven smiled. He waved, then disappeared. Owyn leaned forward, seeing a flash of silver in the water. Then Aven surfaced at the base of the rocks. He pulled himself up out of the water, onto the lowest of the tumbled rocks. Then he made a face.
“Oh,” Aria laughed. “He can’t get up here. We should go down.”
“Down?” Owyn echoed. “Down, closer to the water, down?” He swallowed. “I...”
“Owyn, what’s wrong?” Aria rested her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve gone pale.”
“I... don’t like the water, is all,” he said, trying to control the shaking in his voice. “I’ll wait here.”
Aria touched his cheek and looked into his eyes. Without turning, she raised her voice, “We’ll wait for you here, Aven.”
Owyn looked away, and saw Aven’s eyes had widened. “You’ve gone and worried him,” he said softly.
“That’s only fair,” Aria answered. “You’ve worried me.”
Owyn looked back at her. “Because I don’t like water?”
“You were fine in the baths,” Aria said. “But you do not swim, and you will not go near the sea. You’re frightened, and we can both see it.”
“It’s... it’s nothing,” Owyn stammered. He shook his head, pulling away from Aria and getting up. “It’s really nothing. I’m going back to shore—”
“Stay.”
The word was croaked, the voice unrecognizable. Owyn saw Aven frowning at him. He pointed at Owyn, then at the rock. Then he raised his brows. The message was clear; Owyn stuck his tongue out at Aven and sat down, then laughed when Aven nodded.
“He can’t talk yet, right?” he asked Aria. When she nodded, he frowned, thinking about his reading. “The Waterborn, they can’t talk when they’re changed. That’s the trade-off, the books say. They go underwater, they give up their voices. So how do they communicate underwater? What do they do?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” Aria said. “I never asked.” She pressed against his side, sliding one arm around his back. “It will be a few minutes before he has changed enough to climb up. Relax. No one is asking you to go into the water. You’re safe here with me.” She rested her head on his shoulder, her wet hair making his shirt damp. He hesitated for a moment, then put his arm around her and pulled her closer.
“You’re cold,” he said. “You should put something on.”
“This isn’t cold to me,” Aria replied. “And if I went to put something on, then I would leave you alone. That is something I am not willing to do. I can wait.”
Owyn smiled, looking over at Aven. The silver and pearl scales were fading back to olive skin, but his legs hadn’t separated yet. All at once, Owyn understood Aven’s discomfort about wearing trousers.
“We need to get him back into a kilt as soon as we can,” he said softly. “Trousers aren’t fair to him.”
“Once we reach the healing center, perhaps he will be able to wear what he wishes,” Aria murmured. “It should be safe enough. Do you smell something?”
Owyn nodded, looking back toward shore. There was a fire burning, and Memfis was doing... something. “Looks like Mem is cook tonight.”
“Memfis is a good cook,” Aria said. “Aven, can you speak yet?’
“Almost,” Aven answered, his voice sounding almost normal. “I’ll climb up in a minute.”
“What did you bring up?”
“I’m not sure,” Aven admitted. “They’re not fish I’m familiar with. They look like moon-fish, but they’re not the same color.”
“They smell good, whatever they are,” Owyn said. He looked down at Aven, cocking his head to the side. “What does it feel like?”
Aven looked puzzled. He looked down at his legs, then back up at Owyn. “Normal?”
Owyn grinned. “Right. Stupid question.”
“Not a stupid question, Mouse,” Aven corrected. “I just can’t answer it. I don’t have anything to compare it to.” He said up and ran his hands down his legs, rotating his ankles. “I have feet again,” he said, and got up. He climbed up the rocks and sat down on Owyn’s other side, pressing against him. He leaned down and kissed Owyn, then stretched across and kissed Aria. “Now, explain. You looked a lot like you did in your grandmother’s garden, when Fandor showed up.”
“I wasn’t that bad!” Owyn protested. He scowled down at his hands, then sighed. “What do you know about being a Smoke Dancer?”
“Nothing,” Aven replied immediately. “You don’t talk about it. None of you talk about it. All I really know is you do something with smoke blades.”
Owyn snorted. “I’ll show you. Later. And... Aria, did Mem tell you about the waking vision yet?”
Aria nodded, her expression somber. “He explained.”
Owyn looked back out at the water. “The waking vision... I had mine about a month after Mem took me in. Woke up screaming, which was impressive, because I was convinced I couldn’t breathe.” He forced his gaze from the sea and turned to look at Aven. There was deep concern in the Waterborn’s hazel eyes. “The first vision that a Smoke Dancer has is how they are going to die.”
Aven blinked, and his jaw dropped. He looked horrified. “You... that’s horrible!”
“It’s the trade-off,” Owyn said. “You trade your voice for your tail, and you can heal anyone but yourself. That’s the price of the gift. The price of visions is knowing when your end is coming.” He nodded toward the sea. “That’s my end. I drown. Someday. Dunno when. There wasn’t much in the way of time hints. Just... water. Lots and lots of salt water. I mean, I could taste it.” He closed his eyes, remembering being unable to move, the weight on his chest, struggling to breathe...
Abruptly, he was being lifted to his feet. He jerked, staring at Aven. He hadn’t felt Aven move.
“What?”
“We’re going to shore,” Aven said. “And I won’t ask you again about teaching you to swim.” He looked past Owyn. “Take his other arm?”
Owyn snorted, trying to pull his arm away from Aven. “I don’t need to be carried. I can walk!” he protested. Aven ignored him. So did Aria, taking his other arm, and they escorted him off the rocks and away from the water. Memfis stood by the fire, watching them.
“Something I should know about?” he asked as they came closer.
Owyn finally managed to pull his arms free. He glared up at Aven, who just grinned at him. Then he turned back to Memfis. “I told them about my waking vision.”
“Oh,” Memfis breathed. “I see. You know, it might not be a bad idea to let Aven teach you to swim. I’d like to put that particular vision off as long as possible.”
Owyn looked back at Aven, who shook his head. “I said I wasn’t going to ask you again,” he said. “And I’m not. If you ask me, though, I won’t say no.”
“I’m not going to ask,” Owyn said. He shuddered. “I’m just not going anywhere near the water. It’s not like I have to go out on a boat or anything, right?” Aven nodded and walked away, heading down the beach toward the pile of his clothes. Owyn frowned. “He’s not angry at me, is he?”
“No,” Aria answered. “I think he’s more worried for you. I think Memfis is right. But it has to be your decision.” She sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “He is a good teacher.”
“I said no,” Owyn answered. For a long moment, the only sounds were the waves and the crackling of the fire. Then Aven came back up the beach. He had put on his trousers, but was carrying everything else.
“Owyn, I was curious,” he said. “When you used the whip chain to fight Fandor, some of the movements looked very similar to how I use my hook swords.”
Owyn blinked. “Really?”
Aven nodded. “Would you show me? And your smoke blades? My mother told me that she was learning to dance with the smoke blades, and she was teaching Milon to use hook swords.”
Owyn nodded, started to turn to where their packs were stacked, then turned back. “Mem, is that all right? I can show him?”
“There are no rules against it,” Memfis answered. “And he’s right. Milon was teaching Aleia. So go ahead.” He looked around. “Aria, put some clothes on and help me? Or do you want to see more about the smoke blades?”
“I should learn more about Smoke Dancing,” Aria said.
“But you should still put some clothes on,” Owyn called as he went to the packs and picked up his blades. When he turned back, Aria was looking quizzically at him. He grinned. “You’re distracting.”
She laughed, and went to collect her clothes. As she dressed, Aven looked around.
“The sand between the tide line and the water will probably be the best place to do this,” he suggested. “The wet sand is more compact, better for your footing.”
Owyn looked down the beach and nodded. The space of dark, wet sand was wide, and fairly level. And at worst, he’d get his ankles wet. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll show you. Then you can show me.”
To his surprise, Aven snickered. “I thought we already did ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’” he said, and Aria giggled.
“That’s later,” Owyn answered. Aven grinned.
“You said you can fight with these?” Aria said as they walked down to the darker sands.
“I haven’t yet, but yeah,” Owyn answered. “They’re deceptive. By the time your brain registers where the blade is, it’s not there anymore. I’ll show you. Aven, take Trinket?”
Aven took the fire mouse from Owyn, and he and Aria both sat on the soft, dry sand on the far side of the border of dried seaweed that marked the tide line. Owyn tugged off his boots and walked further down to the wet sand, feeling the cold water between his toes. As Aven had said, it was better footing than the dry sand and he nodded slowly to himself as he started to spin his left-hand blade. He was far enough from the water’s edge that he could ignore it.
“Will it be anything like the whip chain?” Aven asked. “Will they disappear as you move?”
“No,” Owyn answered. “Just watch.” He took a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out his mouth. He did it again. Then he started to move, flowing into the smoke dance. The slow, graceful movements always reminded him of molten rock, or liquid metal as it was poured into a mold, and they did something for Owyn that nothing else ever could. They quieted his ever-racing thoughts, until all that was left in his mind was stillness. Nothing else that he’d ever tried had ever done that. Not strong alcohol, or narcotics, or sleep, or even sex. It was only when he was dancing, either in practice or seeking visions in the vents, that his mind quieted, that the constant chatter of his thoughts finally ceased. The better, Memfis had told him, for the visions to flow.
But the visions had never taken him outside the vents. So when one washed over him, he was completely unprepared, and fell into it completely.
AVEN WAS WATCHING CLOSELY, comparing Owyn’s movements to his own when he danced the hook blades. Admiring the play of muscles in Owyn’s back and chest and arms, and the simple, fluid grace with which he moved. So he saw the moment where Owyn stopped dancing and started falling, and scrambled to his feet.
“Memfis!” he shouted, and dashed to where Owyn had landed. He had dropped like a discarded doll, and lay sprawled on the wet sand, his smoke blades lying on either side of him. Aven reached for him, only to jump at Memfis’ shout.
“Don’t touch him!” Memfis ran up to them. “He’s caught a vision. He’ll come out of it in a minute. Just leave him.”
“Caught a vision?” Aven repeated. “Don’t you need smoke for that?”
Memfis took a deep breath and picked up the smoke blades. “Not always. Being in the vents helps — the smoke makes the visions stronger. But stronger Smoke Dancers just need the dance. I don’t need to be in the vents. Neither did Milon. And Aria’s never been in the vents, either.”
“Then why did Owyn offer to dance for us,” Aria asked. “If it would take him like this?” She knelt in the sand next to Owyn, her hands clasped in her lap. To keep herself from touching him, Aven realized.
“Owyn’s never had a vision outside the vents before,” Memfis answered. “He may not have realized that he was strong enough to do it. I certainly didn’t realize it, and he’s danced outside the vents for me ever since he started learning.” He frowned. “Something has changed.”
“What?” Aven asked. He looked up at Memfis, then back down at Owyn. “No, I know.”
“Us?” Aria asked. Aven nodded.
“He changed because of us,” Aven agreed. “Because of you.” He smiled. “We both did.”
“You pushed him to be the man he needed to be, back in the Heart of the Tribe,” Memfis said. He crouched down to sit on his heels. “He’d never have faced down Fandor before. This is one serious vision. They’re not usually this long. Aria, Owyn should have packed a bag. Did you see it? Blue, with a book and a box in it?”
“I think so, yes,” Aria answered. “Is it important?”
“He’ll want it when he wakes up,” Memfis said. As if on cue, Owyn groaned and shifted. Then gasped and scrambled up to his hands and knees.
“It’s all right, Mouse,” Memfis said softly. “You’re safe.”
“And wet,” Owyn sputtered. “Safe and wet!” He looked around. “My book. I need my book—”
“I’ll go and get it—” Aria started. Owyn shook his head.
“No. It’ll get wet.” He staggered to his feet and stumbled up the beach, seeming to ignore all of them.
“He’s fine,” Memfis said softly. “He needs to get the vision down before he loses it. That’s what the book is.” He gestured, and they followed Owyn back up the beach to the fire. Owyn had dug out his book and the box, and hunched over the book, doing something that Aven couldn’t see. Aven glanced at Memfis, who shook his head and gestured toward the fire.
“Check me on this fish,” he said. “You’re probably better at cooking fish than I am.”
“What did you do?” Aven asked. He handed Trinket to Aria, and crouched next to the cooking pot. “It smells good.”
“Just a basic stew. We don’t have much. I threw the last of the root vegetables, and some of the barley.”
“It should be fine,” Aven said. He picked up a cloth and tugged the pot away from the fire. “Fish doesn’t need much cooking, though. So we can just keep it warm until we’re ready to eat.” He turned so that he could watch Owyn, who was still hunched over his book. Aria sat next to him, cradling Trinket in her hands and watching Owyn work. No one said anything until Owyn raised his head, setting down what turned out to be a stick of charcoal and shaking his hand.
“You’re all staring,” he said. “I... how badly did I scare you all?”
“About twice as badly as you scared yourself?” Memfis suggested. Owyn grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know that would happen. It’s never happened before.” He looked up at Memfis. “Guess that means I’m a real Smoke Dancer now?”
“You were a real Smoke Dancer before,” Memfis corrected. “Now, what did you see?”
Owyn sat up and handed the book to Memfis. “I don’t know. I have no idea who this is, but he’s important. Really important.”
Memfis frowned slightly as he studied the book. Aria passed Trinket to Owyn, then got up and moved to Memfis’ side.
“He’s very beautiful,” she murmured. “And you don’t know who this is?”
“Never seen him before,” Owyn answered. “Trust me, I’d remember him.”
Aven licked his lips, suddenly certain that he knew who Owyn had seen. He got up and moved to stand with Memfis, looking at the book.
“That’s Del,” he said. “I thought it might be, when Aria said he was beautiful.”
“Del?” Memfis repeated. “Mannon’s Del?”
“The one who freed you?” Aria added. Aven nodded.
“That’s him.” He studied the sketch. “Owyn, you’re very good.”
“Thank you. And what do you mean, Mannon’s Del? Who is he?” Owyn got up. “Can we eat, and you’ll explain? I’m hungry.”
“You need to eat, to get yourself all the way back in this world. Aven, would you serve?” Memfis asked. Aven nodded and went back to the cooking pot.
“What does that mean?” Aria asked. “Eating to get himself back?”
“After being caught in a vision, a seer needs something to help them settle back into their skin. To bring their minds back to the here and now, as opposed to being off someplace else.” Memfis took a bowl from Aven and passed it to Owyn. “Eating, and focusing on eating, brings their attention to the food and the taste, and brings them out of the dreamspace. So after a Smoke Dancer comes down from a vision, it’s important for them to eat something. And they’re usually ravenous. After that, they’ll usually sleep.”
