46

The first impression Hyam had upon awakening was that someone breathed for him.

He felt his chest pump up, then he felt hands press down. He heard the sigh of his own breath.

As his awareness continued to return, he felt a mouth fit over his and push more air in. He tasted a salty tang and realized the warm lips belonged to Shona, and that she wept as she gave him air.

Hyam felt a surge of surreal clarity. He was alive! What was more, his company had survived as well. Though his eyes remained shut, he sensed their presence and heard vague murmurs he could not yet fit into words. Alembord, Meda, Fareed, Selim, all there, and then Shona’s lips fit over his again and helped him breathe. Alive!

Hyam coughed weakly and was rewarded with exclamations on all sides. Only Shona did not celebrate. She sobbed and breathed with difficulty and fitted her lips once more over his.

With each of Shona’s breaths came her mage-force. Hyam could feel it surging through his veins. He knew this was why he lived. She had given him far more than air. She shared everything.

And finally, at long last, Hyam understood. Another lungful, another surge of her force, and Hyam knew this was no childish infatuation. Shona loved him. She was bound to him.

And after this day, he was bound to her as well.

Her sorrow over being forced to accept he would never be hers pierced Hyam with shared agony. Somehow the situation had to be remedied. Yet this quandary had no ready answer.

Then it hit him. Joelle would know what to do.

Hyam opened his eyes.

Hyam sat up with Shona’s and Meda’s help. The sight that greeted him proved well worth the effort. He was seated upon a long central bench, wide as a bed, that ran the length of their ship. The vessel was perhaps thirty paces long and eight or nine wide. Two further broad benches ran down the gunnels. Selim snored on one, Alembord on the other. Fareed was perched in the distant bow. He turned and waved and called something that was lost to the salty wind.

The boat was curious indeed. At first glance it appeared to be made from the sea itself. Hyam leaned over for a closer look and spotted bits of seaweed and a fan coral embedded in the bench where he sat. There was also no means of power or steering, neither mast nor tiller nor wheel. Even so, they sped across the sea. The water chuckled and rushed beneath the vessel, and spray bathed his face. The taste was exquisite, a salty assurance that he lived.

Hyam had a thousand questions. But there was one thing that must come first. He turned to Shona and used his hands to sweep away her tears. The woman was no longer young. The effort required to save him had aged Shona a century and more. He would not speak of her love. Not until he knew what should be said. But he wanted her to know that he acknowledged her, and her gift, and would respect it. Forever.

Something in his gaze caused her to weep harder still. Hyam allowed her to melt to his chest. He stroked the fine hair, he felt her warmth, he listened to the music of one who cried because she cared.

When she quieted, he said, “I live because you breathed your mage-force into me.”

“I . . . tried.”

“You succeeded.”

Meda asked, “Is that even possible?”

Hyam held up one finger, silencing the guards captain. “I will not say there is a debt between us. Such vows exist between allies. Our relationship is far deeper. The first thing I noticed upon awakening was the flavor of your life.”

Shona drew back, her breathing unsteady, but she was clearly determined to hear him with far more than just her ears.

Hyam went on, “I acknowledge the gift you have given me. I am able to speak these words because of your bequest.”

Gradually the young woman settled, steadied. “I tasted your life as well.”

Hyam nodded. “It is only fitting.”

The emotions carried by the words not yet spoken caused her face to crimp up tight. But all she said was, “We have to rescue Joelle.”

Hyam embraced her again, a silent thanks, then said, “You should rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look exhausted,” he replied. “There is no telling what lies beyond the horizon. Sleep. We will talk more later.”

In reply, she stretched out on the bench beside him. Meda slipped off her travel cloak, folded it, and settled it beneath Shona’s head. Hyam touched the point where her hair bordered her temple. Shona reached up and captured his fingers.

Meda handed him a small leather pouch and said, “We had enough supplies for one meal. We saved your share.”

Hyam ate with ravenous appetite. When he was done, he felt more hungry than when he had started. “Tell me what happened.”

“The mage dust was killing us all,” Meda said. “And blinding us in the process. The first thing I saw when my eyes cleared was a whirlwind above your head. You sucked it all in. Four mages. I waited for you to explode. No one could have held all that evil and survived.”

Hyam resisted the urge to say that he had not, for he knew Shona still heard them. She stirred, sighed, and slipped into slumber.

Meda went on, “Shona was the first to reach you. She clamped down on your mouth and breathed in, then coughed out a putrid mass. With every breath she expelled, a miniature mage took form at our feet. Never have I felt such an utter repulsion. Fareed came up beside her and blasted away at the remnants before they could attack. Then Shona fastened herself to you and drew out more.

“Fareed’s wand gave out, so he used hers. When that one went dark, I used the Milantian sword. They scampered like frantic Milantian rats, trying to strike us. On and on it went. My arms grew so weary I couldn’t lift the sword. Alembord took over. Then Selim. Fareed blasted all he could manage. We were beyond spent. And this one, this child mage they tried to leave behind . . .” Meda shook her head. “Twice now she has rescued us.”

Hyam studied the course they followed. The sea before and behind their vessel was crystal calm. The only wind was that caused by their swift passage. They traversed a valley in the middle of the sea. Liquid walls rose to either side. Hyam saw a lone fish swim up alongside their craft, long as his leg and striped like a tiger’s back. The creature kept pace with their craft for a time, then flicked its tail and vanished. Otherwise the sea cliffs remained empty, clear, mysterious as their journey.

Hyam asked, “How did we come to be here?”

“When we were certain your heart still beat, we carried you down to the harbor. We had no idea whether the mages had yet another attack in store. But for the moment our only threat came from the Milantian dust-rats that continued to reform. As the amount Shona drew from you lessened, the beasts grew smaller, but they remained deadly, growing fangs and going straight on the attack soon as they landed. Fareed fashioned mage-lights for Alembord to hold, because by then it was pitch-black. Dark as ever I had seen it, not a moon, not a star. Night as close and tight as death.

“Selim carried you, then Alembord. Shona breathed for you the entire way across Alyss. Fareed and I kept the rat creatures at bay. We had one bad moment when we almost spilled into one of the holes, but Fareed caught sight at the last moment. We rested there on the shore, wondering if dawn would ever come. But it did, and at first light we found the boat there waiting for us. We climbed on board, and off we went. These walls grew up soon as we passed the harbor mouth.”

Hyam studied the sun’s position through the transparent western cliff. “We’ve traveled all day?”

“No, Hyam. A day and a night and now much of the second day.”

He asked because he had to. But the answer was there in Meda’s tight gaze. “The ghost warriors were to hunt for . . .”

“The vial holding Joelle’s breath.” Meda sighed around her shared pain as she lifted a chain and crystal pipe from her pocket. “I blew. The general came alone. He might have given her a message, Shona hasn’t said. Her every breath was used to keep you alive. Once we arrived portside we debated whether one should go back. But with the dark and the threat . . .”

“And search where?” The sorrow was so intense he could scarcely form the words. Because he knew he had failed. He turned and stared back behind him, back to the unseen city and the foe that had, in fact, defeated him.

Hyam waited until Meda slipped away, then wept with the pain of breathing while another could not.