Aerisian Refrain, page 44
part #1 of Beyond the Sunset Series
Maybe my ancestor could see my emotions shifting across my face, indecision and fright followed by resolve. He read what I intended before I knew it myself.
“I see I’ve not managed to dissuade you.”
Clamping my lips shut, I shook my head stubbornly.
“Foolish, foolish woman.”
Maybe I was foolish. Maybe I was flat out stupid, but I was determined to see this through. I just didn’t know how.
My answer came from a very unexpected source. There wasn’t any sign to warn us, no sounds of someone tramping through the forest. One second nobody was there, and the next—there was Cole, entering the clearing between two trees. My muscles locked up at the sight of him. What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here. This was my fight. I had to do this.
The Raven saw him at the same instant as me. His eyebrows flared upwards.
“Well, well, what have we here? One of the dread Simathe come already to hunt you down?”
“He’s not here to hunt me down,” I said softly, watching the man I loved as he approached. His face was expressionless, but his eyes looked me over as if making certain I was okay.
“Ah, yes. I recall him now. This is he who stood between you and me, between the dragon and you. You have a protector, then.”
A protector…it definitely fit. He walked up to us boldly, as uncaring for danger from the Raven as from the dead tree behind me.
“What do you here, Simathe?” the fairy demanded. “Did you think to save her from herself? Save her from us?”
Cole flicked a dismissive glance toward the Raven, then back to me.
“My horse was stolen.”
I resisted a wild urge to laugh. “I didn’t steal him. I left him at the edge of the woods.”
“I saw.”
“How did you know to come here?”
“Annie,” he said patiently. “I have followed you from the beginning. I followed you here the first time you came. Did you think I could not trail you? My Restless led me to the forest, and I tracked you here.”
His Restless? Were they linked to their individual animals, sort of like the Warkin to their dragons? I brushed the notion aside, since there was no time to deal with it.
“I didn’t know you trailed me here the first time.”
“Nor I,” the Raven interjected into the conversation.
Cole gave him a look that was downright arrogant, it was so cold. “No,” he said simply, and turned back to me.
“Are you mad, woman? Coming here on your own? Why not ask me to attend you?”
Before I could open my mouth to explain, the Raven interrupted.
“How are you here?”
The warrior turned to him with one of those imperious Simathe stares. I’d never really seen it from Cole before, but he had the ability to look every bit as superior and domineering as his High-Chief when he chose.
“What do you mean, how am I here?”
“The fairies placed a ward over this place to prevent humans from entering. I know how she circumvented it,” he said, nodding towards me. “This was the home of the ravens and she carries my blood: the land itself recognized her and drew her here. But you? It should not have permitted you entrance.”
Cole stared at my ancestor as if the fairy had completely lost his mind.
“I am Simathe, not human,” he rebutted. “Although…” He turned back to me. “The first time I trailed you here it is true I lost you and could not find you. Perhaps the ward worked then. Why that has changed, I do not know.”
“Maybe with my powers growing I accidentally lifted the wards,” I started to say, but even as I spoke the warrior-lord abruptly lifted a hand for silence. I shut up, watching him. His Simathe eyes narrowed, his head lifting like he sensed something or was searching for it. Both the Raven and I watched him, wondering.
Absently, I noticed the Raven wasn’t making any threatening moves on the Simathe, or even on me, at this point. Why? He had promised to take revenge on the Simathe as well as the female fairies, but possibly he needed my magic and his allies to do that. Alone, maybe there wasn’t much he could do to harm Cole.
“A Simathe is here,” Cole said finally.
“What?” I glanced around the clearing, including over my shoulder. “Where? In the trees?”
“No. Here. With us.”
There was nobody here except Cole, the Raven, and me.
“Cole, that doesn’t make any sense,” I said.
He didn’t answer, simply stepped past me, drawing his sword. Now my ancestor and I exchanged puzzled glances as he walked right up to the massive tree trunk behind me, raising his sword.
“Out of the way, lass,” he ordered.
I obeyed, stepping to the side as he lifted the gleaming weapon over his head. To my surprise, he brought it down with a swift, slicing motion against the side of the tree itself. Then he did it again and again.
“What are you doing?” I called out to him, but he was so busy hacking and hewing at the ancient trunk that he didn’t seem to hear.
“I think your Simathe has taken leave of his senses,” the Raven observed. “Why does he hew apart what remains of my Tree of Unity?”
I didn’t know any more than he did, but I was shocked after just a few minutes of watching him work at how I could see a shape emerging. The curve of a skull, the line of a shoulder, the outline of a leg.
What the—
I was drawn closer without knowing I’d moved. It had to be more than just his carving skills, which I already knew were exceptional. It wasn’t like he was carving the figure; instead, he was hacking away at the aged wood, pruning back the parts that didn’t belong as if to free the shape from the tree. Like the tree and the shape had melded into one and he was freeing the person inside.
But a Simathe? Who?
He was determined, and more and more of the warrior’s outline was showing, but it was taking too long. The Raven’s earlier prediction about the Simathe and fairies hunting me down had me on edge. When it was discovered I was missing, that Cole was missing, what were they going to think? If Cole had tracked me here, and could sense a Simathe inside a tree, they could probably track him here too, not to mention me. I didn’t know they would be coming for me, but I sure didn’t know they wouldn’t, either. If they came, a confrontation between them and the Raven was inevitable. Maybe a confrontation between them, the Raven, and me, since they’d likely think I was supporting him.
An idea formed and I stepped up behind Cole, placing my hand gently on his back. I could feel the muscles shifting beneath his shirt and his skin as he swung his arms, wielding the sword against the tree. I could hear his heavier breathing, hear the rhythm of the sword swings, hear the clang of iron against wood, hear the thump of blade meeting tree. I could hear it at all. Closing my eyes, I slid into that music without any conscious effort, joining my own voice to it. Not a song with words, just a gentle melody, a hum, singing to the tree, asking it to let go, let go, let go, release whatever or whoever it held prisoner…
The warrior’s sword swings, his hacking and hewing, slowed considerably. Slowed, then stopped altogether. I kept the wordless melody going but opened my eyes to see that a man’s shape had indeed emerged from the tree. He knelt on one knee, his brow resting on his upraised knee and his arms locked around it. Even as I continued to hum, slivers and splinters and chunks of wood loosened, fell off, fell away revealing plain, functional dark clothing, tall leather boots, then dark bronze skin, and finally inhuman black hair.
A Simathe.
I continued the song, even as Cole stepped back. He turned to look at me, and I could sense his wonder at what I was doing, but I couldn’t break the connection with the wood, so I continued staring at the Simathe and singing, coaxing the tree until I saw the man’s flesh move with his breath. Finally, the last few slivers of wood around his skull fell away. He raised his head, his eyes meeting mine. Even before he moved, he said,
“What have you done?”
Chapter 57
Simathe Strength
I didn’t answer right away. I was too surprised. Here I’d helped free him from this prison where he’d been stuck for who knows how long, and all he had to say was a vicious, “What have you done?”
The unknown Simathe’s arms unwound themselves, and his legs moved. He stood, a hail of wood chips and splinters showering from his shoulders and hair. He was tall—taller than Lord Ilgard. Nearly as tall as the Raven himself. Even though his face bore the same stony cast as the other Simathe, there was an ancientness to his deep, deep eyes and a few strands of white threaded through his obsidian hair. Who was he? I hadn’t seen him in the memory the Raven showed me.
He stepped from the tree, leaving a large cavity in its side, and advanced on Cole and me. I didn’t know his intentions, but it was clear he was angry. Cole knew it too, and shifted between us. At that, the unknown Simathe stopped, stared.
“I know not your face,” he said to Cole.
“I am Cole, Lord among Simathe,” he answered.
“A lord?” Cole nodded. “You are youthful for that role.”
“I have earned my rank,” he affirmed.
“Yet you shield her.” The emancipated warrior glanced between him and me. “Do you know who she is? She carries the Raven’s blood. She is his offspring. See what she has done!”
The anger had returned to his voice. Cole and I both swiveled, glancing towards where the unknown Simathe pointed. The Raven was no longer simply watching the drama—he was moving. He was actively attacking the veil that held back the other male fairies. He was ripping it apart with his bare hands. The head and shoulders of a fairy with grey-feathered wings pushed through the rent.
“No,” I cried, ducking from behind Cole, stepping towards them. “No, they can’t escape!”
“Cannot escape? You freed them.” The Simathe’s tones were bitter.
“No, I didn’t,” I gasped, looking at him with horror. “I freed you.”
“You used your magic, and your song called me forth. You are linked to them. When your magic freed me, it freed them. This is your doing.”
Another male fairy with the wings and look of a vulture burst into the glade. The ones that were free immediately joined their leader in ripping the veil, freeing their fellows. A third fairy emerged, then a fourth. My brain was spinning. Everything was happening too fast. I meant to end this and instead I’d liberated the fairies, just like the Raven had predicted in the gardens. I’d tried to help Cole, tried to help the trapped Simathe, and instead I’d unleashed potential war and devastation on Aerisia: the exact opposite of what I came here to do.
“I’ll put them back,” I said, swiveling towards the two Simathe. I could hear the panic in my voice. “I’ve got to put them back.”
“You cannot.”
“I—I can, I’ll sing them back, I’ll—”
“Your magic won’t suffice, lass. Even Braisley and her fairies could not overcome them without Simathe strength. Simathe strength, mine, remained here, locked in this place, securing the fairies’ guards and shields. Why think you I was imprisoned in that tree? To ensure that, if they were somehow freed, they could never rebuild what they had. And they would not have—if not for you.”
My panic was rising, but I fought it down.
Next to me, Cole reached for my hand. “You cannot blame her for this,” he said.
“I can,” the other Simathe snapped, the authority in his voice impossible to miss. “For ages, all was hushed. Then I sensed a stirring in the latent magic of this place. With that, I sensed them stirring. I have witnessed all that happened here. I felt the first great rip in their prison and there you came, stumbling into the Sanctuary with your strange clothes, your alien hair, your fairy eyes. Soon as you arrived in Aerisia, he was freed.” The warrior glanced over at the Raven. More and more of the male fairies continued to spill out. Soon, all of them would be free.
“You are the cause of this,” he accused, stepping closer to me. “Your tainted blood, your tainted magic. It took all of our strength to bind them. Now, in mere days’ time, you’ve undone our work.”
I licked my lips, fighting to think, fighting for clarity.
“This isn’t my fault. I can’t help my ancestry,” I protested, but it sounded weak, even to me.
“No, but you could have helped how you used your power. As soon as they are free, they will take you away. They will use you to begin a war such as Aerisia has not yet seen. Their vengeance will be terrible. You—” he put his finger in my face— “with your tainted heritage will bear the blame of it.”
Something snapped inside. I reached up and knocked his hand out of my face.
“I’m not tainted,” I ground out. “Nobody gets to choose their ancestors: not me, not him—” I nodded at Cole, “not even you. I’m not tainted. And I will stop them.”
“How, without Simathe strength?” he challenged.
“She will have Simathe strength.”
Cole, who’d been mute during the entire exchange now spoke up. Turning to face me, he put his hands on my shoulders, his grip hard.
“Join with me,” he said.
“What?”
His offer left me thunderstruck.
“Join with me. Take my strength. Use it against them. Imprison them.”
“I—”
“She cannot do that,” the other Simathe cut in. “Her strength is theirs, do you not understand? Join with her, and they will have yours, as well.”
“No.” Cole stared the other Simathe down. “I can separate my strength from hers. They cannot access it.” He turned back to me. His tones gentled, but his grip was insistent. “This is not your doing, Annie, but you can undo it. Join with me, accept my strength, and find a way to end this.”
I was horrified that such a decision had been forced upon us. “Cole, I can’t ask you to do that,” I whispered hoarsely. “This is my fight. Not yours.”
“The lass is right,” agreed the other Simathe. “Do this, and there is no going back. I spent centuries in this place, the cornerstone on which the curse was built, sealing its wards. I accepted that I would never break free. Join with her, and you will never break free,” he said pointedly to Cole. “You will be bound to her permanently. Bound to them also, and whatever she does to defeat them. Consider this well.”
The Simathe didn’t flinch, didn’t waver.
“I have considered it,” he said calmly. Then he turned back to me. “We’ve not much time, lass. You must accept me.”
But I still hesitated. “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself like this.”
“It is my choice to make!” he snapped, finally losing some of his eerie Simathe calm.
He was so firm that it took me aback, made me see things in a different light. He believed in me. Against all of his fellow Simathe, against all the odds, against what we were facing now with the final fairies spilling into the clearing, he still believed in me. He believed I could stop this.
“Trust me,” he urged.
And I did. I trusted him. I trusted him because he trusted me. I felt the weight of that trust like the weight of the entire world hung on my shoulders. Maybe it did.
“Okay,” I murmured, agreeing.
He drew me close to himself, bending to press his forehead to mine.
“Do it,” he said to the other Simathe.
“It cannot be—”
“Do it!” he roared. “I know you are capable.” To me, his voice milder, he said, “You must help him, Annie.”
“I don’t know how. I don’t know anything about this.”
“You know me,” he said. “Use your magic. Find me. Accept me. Know me.”
Our heads were together, our faces close, but I moved just enough that I could see up into his deep, alien eyes.
“Know me,” he insisted.
“I’ll try…”
I didn’t close my eyes this time. I kept them locked with his, let his gaze draw me into him, into his consciousness, into the music of his being. The thunder of his heartbeat, the pace of his pulse, the echo of his breathing, the river-rush of his blood. I knew him, I knew this man. I knew the lines of his scars by sight and even by touch. I knew the feel of his hands on my skin, of his strength pulling me from the cold water the first time we’d met. I knew the inflections of his voice. I knew his subtle humor, teasing me about my rough mornings. I knew the feeling of his strong body pressed against mine. I knew the taste and feel of his kiss.
I knew that I loved him, and I let that, ultimately, draw him to me, draw our consciousness together. The song that spilled out of me was a melody of my love. Of all the love songs I’d performed over the past eight years, songs about every shade and every color and every aspect of love, none of them contained the passion and the feeling of the wordless melody that poured out of me now. It wasn’t loud; it was barely a hum, but it contained my heart, my soul, my power.
I was lost in him, lost in the song, lost in the magic I wove between us, but not so lost that I didn’t hear the other Simathe begin to speak. I couldn’t tell what he was saying: they were foreign words in an unknown Aerisian language. But as he spoke, lending whatever power the words held to what I was doing, I felt the union between Cole and I sharpen and heighten. I felt an overwhelming sense of him wash over me. From the corners of my vision, I saw a blinding flash of light—
Then, just like that, it all fell away. My song died. The Simathe stopped speaking. I could hear myself panting, feel my heart racing. Magic spiked beneath my skin. Cole drew back, still staring down into my face.
“I feel you,” he said simply.
I understood. In the back of my brain were prickles of a fresh awareness, an awareness of of him. Like every inch of my skin burned with the knowledge that he was alive and near. I didn’t know a lot about Joining, but I knew that most of what I felt he would feel. That he’d know where I was, and if I were in danger. In the far reaches of my consciousness, I could feel an overwhelming ocean of strength, locked away, as it were, behind a seawall, waiting to break free or for me to call on it.
