Beneath the Thirteen Moons (21 page)

He shoved her down in the carpet of fallen petals and plunged inside of her and Mahri raked her nails across his back. She matched him thrust for thrust and when he growled his release a cry tore from the back of her throat as a wave of ferocious pleasure ripped through her entire body with contractions that made her arch her back again and again.

Mahri relaxed in complete fulfillment. A drop of wetness hit her cheek, and she looked up in surprise to see Korl’s face twisted with horror.

“What’ve I become?” His face reddened with shame and he pushed away from her, scrambled in the colorful softness for her clothes and tossed them at her.

“Korl…”

“Get dressed.”

Mahri held the strips of shredded silk up in the air, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “In what?”

His mouth hung open while he struggled into his leggings. “I did that?”

“Aya.” Mahri giggled.

Korl straightened, hands on hips, leggings slouched just below that, covering him halfway so that her eyes strayed to the curls of dark gold hair shimmering over the tops of them. “How can you laugh after what… what I just did to you?”

“Oh, quit being so patronizing. Do you really think you did anything that I didn’t want?”

That arrogant mask fell back over his features and Mahri sighed with relief. Better that, than…

Korl flexed and crossed arms that bulged with muscle over his hard, broad chest. “I suppose you think you’re stronger than I am, too?”

Mahri shrugged, wondering what the “too” meant but so satisfied in her bed of spent flowers that she could only grin back up at him. “Of course not, your Royalness. But I did have my staff within reach.” She rubbed the top of her weapon that still lay securely in its loop from her waist-belt, having withstood the shredding of her silk outfit.

He gave an imperious nod, acknowledging her skill with the weapon against his own brute strength, but with enough skepticism to let her know she’d have to prove it for him to believe it.

“You couldn’t have stopped me,” he growled.

Mahri sniffed and scooped handfuls of multi-colored blossoms over her skin, refusing to reply. She knew a thousand armed warriors couldn’t have prevented him from taking her, but she’d be drowned before she’d admit it. The man already thought too highly of his physical prowess.

He grinned at her, watching the petals that blew across her navel. “I’ll never look at another flower without imagining the velvet of your skin hiding beneath. You are a wild thing, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” sighed Mahri contentedly.

And then he frowned. “Like the qa’za.”

She hesitated. “Aya.”

“It was a stupid bird.” Korl spun and left the clearing, returning moments later with a pack made from otter skin. He tossed it down next to her with a negligent flick of his wrist.

Mahri sat up, dark red hair covering her like a cloak. She reached into the pack, pulling forth newly stitched snar-scale leggings and vest, a hand-tooled belt of such fine scales that it lay fluidly across her palm, a full bag of zabba attached to it. She looked up at Korl through her lashes.

“The qa’za should’ve been happy.”

She nodded.

“It had the best of everything.”

“Aya.” Mahri’s heart soared with happiness, and Korl felt that rise of feeling and swayed in reaction to it. But she couldn’t suppress that flare, for she knew that he’d decided to free her. To let her return to the swamps. She scrambled into the snar-scale clothing, replaced the gem-studded belt for the plain, scaled one from around her waist, settling her staff into it without a hint of regret.

She clucked at Jaja to wake, who blinked sleepily before emerging from his petaled cocoon to scramble onto her shoulder. Mahri fished zabba from her pouch and crunched into the bitterness while she followed Korl to a leaf-shrouded door that opened onto the wide channel that surrounded the Palace Tree. The low-lying branch the garden had been made on sat just above the surface of the water, and Mahri looked over the edge to see her boat anchored below.

Jaja squeaked in glee and dove, popped up near the bow of her craft and crawled aboard, inspecting the inside as if to be sure that it was indeed, their own little boat.

Mahri turned and looked into a face rigid with grief and rage. She didn’t need the Bond between them to feel Korl’s soul. But the joy that spread through her own overshadowed her empathy for him, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.

“I’m truly free?” Sparks of Power flashed from her eyes and she could feel the tiny explosions that rippled through her pathways.

His hand shot out, wrapped in her hair and dragged her up against his chest, belying his words. “Yes. You’re free to go, but that doesn’t mean you have to.”

She stiffened beneath his warm lips against her ear. Her next words dripped sarcasm. “Ach. So just knowing I’m free should be enough?”

“Yes. No. Water-rat, let me in.” He slid his mouth along the side of her face and her traitorous body responded to his need, pulling toward him even while her wit fought against that draw.

“Just this once, let me feel your mind within my own,” he continued. “Then you’ll understand why you can’t leave me.”

Although she couldn’t fight the lure of his skin she had no trouble battling his will, so that when he entered her pathways to tap at her mind-barrier she held it firm.

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Isn’t it enough that we’re Bonded? That we’ve forged ties that can’t be loosed? My thoughts are my own and will stay that way!”

His entire body sighed, and she felt the mourning within him overwhelm all other emotions.

“You ask too much, more than I am willing to give.” Her hands sought the silk of his hair, twined within that
pale mass and drew his mouth to her own, apologizing for the hurt she gave him in the best way she could.

“That’s why I have to leave,” she murmured when they drew apart.

Rage surfaced again and Korl pushed her away, his face rigid, the parallel scars along his cheek standing out in high relief. “Go then, water-rat. I don’t know what got into me anyway, allowing scum like you into my bed.”

Mahri knew he meant to hurt her, to use words like knives to give her back some of his own pain. And he’d succeeded admirably, throwing her own insecurities at her; that she wasn’t worthy to be a princess, that she belonged in the swamps with the rest of the peasants. She wanted to defend herself, but swallowed the nasty words, knowing his pain to be greater than her own.

Mahri bowed to him instead, a parody of a courtier’s obeisant sweep to the ground. “This scum was honored, Your Highness, to be allowed into that most Royal of Chambers.” Her olive eyes twinkled up at him, and he fought, ach, how he fought the tug of a smile at the edge of that handsome mouth.

“I didn’t mean it,” he sighed, raking his fingers through the waves of his hair.

“Aya, you did. But it’s all right, for I know what I am, and it’s why I must leave.”

It no longer mattered what the natives demanded of her, nor her own intentions to stay and help him rule, for she knew the truth, that she’d never be his equal, nor allow him to so control her mind and body that she’d cease to exist. The gulf between them lay too wide to cross.

Mahri turned to leave but he reached for her again and she couldn’t refuse, knowing this may be the last
time she’d ever see him, certainly the last time she could ever touch him. So she allowed her hands to feel every inch of her prince, to glory in the liquid texture of his hair, the warm curve of his neck, the firm muscles of his shoulders and the tight mounds of his bottom.

She tried to memorize each glorious part of him, and felt the exploration of his own fingers as if he sought to do the same.

And then the liquid heat of his mouth across her own made her sob his name. How could she leave him? How could she purposely seek to be anywhere but within the wondrous circle of his arms? Korl felt her sudden indecision for his hold tightened and he traced a fiery path to her ear and whispered and growled his love for her.

Fear shivered a path up her spine. If she didn’t take control she’d be bound to him for certain. Mahri yanked his head back with a tug on his hair, and he allowed her to, the muscles in his jaw rigid as she stroked her tongue up his neck and across his own ear, whispering back to him, “I’m sorry,” before rising on her toes and grinding her mouth atop his with a ferocity that stunned them both.

Feeling that it was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do in her life, she let him go and dove into the water, heaved herself into her craft and loosed the anchor. Mahri grabbed her staff and flicked her wrist in the pattern that extended it to poling length and pushed away from the Palace Tree branch.

She drew on the Power and Saw into the water, churning it beneath her to aid the current, reveling in the feel of that welcome, familiar liquid. Then she felt another inflow of strength and looked up to where Korl stood
above her, Power flashing from his eyes, legs parted and head thrown back.

He fed her Power, helping her to be free.

Mahri held the wave beneath her, felt it churn to be set loose and propel her boat forward.

“You’ll be back,” Korl shouted at her.

She memorized the proud, strong look of him.

“I’ll leave a light burning in the window of my old room in the Healer’s Tree.”

Mahri smiled sadly. She’d never forget that she’d thought it had been her bad luck to choose that door, when in reality she’d had no choice—the natives had led her to it. Would he truly leave a light burning for her there?

The Wilding shrugged, vowing she’d never know, feeling something inside of her tear apart at that surety.

Mahri released the wave and her craft shot forward, Jaja in the bow, his tiny webbed fist raised forward and his tail finned out behind him.

K
ORL MADE HER BREAK EVERY VOW SHE’D EVER SWORN
.

He’d been true to his word and had kept a light burning in the window of his small room in the Healer’s Tree. A light that screamed like a beacon across the water, for he’d used the Power to create such a blaze; no light-globe could have produced such brilliance. Mahri had been drawn there night after night, had sat in the shadows and stared at that beckoning warmth, cursing herself for her weakness, cursing him for his stubbornness.

She thought he’d soon forget to set the light; she thought she’d eventually cease to go check. When neither happened, she realized that the only way to stop this tugging on her heart was to get as far away from him as possible.

But it seemed that Mahri couldn’t get far enough away from the draw of that light, for it stayed in her mind while she traveled through the swamps, to the very outskirts of human-settled trees, through the Gap Channel—that dividing river of water that must be crossed to reach the Unknown tree forests.

And after several weeks of travel through those wild regions, she still saw that beacon of light whenever she closed her lids.

“What’s wrong with me?” Mahri asked Jaja as she poled through an unusually calm channel. “How far must I go until the hold this man has on me is broken?”

Her pet shook his head and slapped his forehead with a webbed hand. The pooch of his tummy had shrunk to a tiny sag of scale-skin as they’d traveled, and he hadn’t been a particularly good companion. She knew he dreamt of sugared fruit and fish pies and blamed her for the lack thereof.

He’d spoiled so easily, thought Mahri. Soft beds, gourmet food. Aya, it’s a good thing we’d left when we did. Otherwise we might’ve been trapped there forever.

The current slowed, almost reversed back on itself, and her mouth dropped open. Before them lay the open sea, a smooth expanse of blue-green that shimmered beneath a sun unhindered by any canopy of trees, and beyond that, another line of forest, arising from the water to stand no bigger than her thumb because of the distance.

Mahri anchored the boat before it reached that open expanse and stared. By-the-thirteen-moons, how far had she come? She’d never heard of an end to the Unknown, had just assumed that it faded to open sea, yet beyond lay another cluster of tree forest that bespoke of another place. A Beyond the Unknown.

“Would that be far enough?” she mused aloud.

Jaja chattered and shook a finger at her.

“Ach, it’s not that far. We could make that line of trees before nightfall.”

He slapped a tiny webbed hand against his scaled forehead and fell backward.

“Dramatics won’t change my mind.” And Mahri flicked her wrist and the pole shifted back into a short staff. She eased it into her belt, lifted anchor and grabbed the oars. When she sat, Jaja hopped over to her and took
both her cheeks into his scaled palms, those brown eyes luminous and compelling.

That barrier around her mind cracked a tiny portion, a testament to the panic of her monk-fish, that he did so without her permission, and the gentle thoughts of her pet trickled into her awareness.

No, no, spirit-friend. No native go there, no protection for you.

“Jaja,” whispered Mahri. “I can hear your thoughts.”

This wasn’t like when she’d mind-melded with Korl, or when she’d been bombarded with the senses of the Sea Forest. His thoughts were such tiny things, no threat to her own identity, just a sharing that she welcomed as if a part of her head had been empty and only now felt whole.

You ready now friend
.

“Wha… what do you mean?”

Lots zabba open way. You strong now, no hurt. He make you strong.

Mahri knew that Jaja referred to Korl, but she still didn’t understand. “How long have you thought I’d be strong enough to breach that mind-barrier?”

Jaja hung his head as if ashamed.
For long now. But not
happy with you.
He looked back up at her and sighed.
Good food
at Big Tree. Humans make fish warm, make tender. Like stay with prince, foolish friend.
And he shook his head with disgust as he thought those last few words.

Mahri’s head swam. Could she be dreaming all of this? Had she chewed too much root again? But she felt the sun’s heat on the top of her head, felt the breeze caress her skin and smelled the salty tang of the ocean too clearly for this to be anything but reality.

She frowned down at her small pet. “So why now?”

Make choice. Go this way,
and he pointed at the enormous expanse of open sea,
no come back. Prince of Changes need you.
Future of Sea Forest need you. You other half of soul, must join.

His thoughts had started to fade so Jaja dug in her pouch and pushed a piece of root into her mouth and she crunched it between her teeth. Bitterness flooded her throat and Power sparked through her pathways, and Mahri widened that crack in her mind-shield with caution, remembering the overwhelming surge of sensations she’d experienced before.

But it seemed Jaja was right, for she could now control that flood of thought, could sense the hunger of a stingray without getting pulled into the creature’s own little awareness, could feel the cold of the deep ocean through the narwhal without getting sucked into that ancient sentience. Mahri could tap into the wealth of life that teemed throughout the forest without it overwhelming her.

“How?” she wondered aloud.

Jaja shrugged.
Always could, just too afraid. Too easy to
go,
and he stopped his thought, spun a webbed finger in a circle at the side of his head.
Humans not strong always like my people. Must use lots root, and sometimes kill you.

Mahri thought of her own nearly fatal overdoses and nodded.

Jaja released her cheeks, fanned out his ears and tail once in happiness and hopped to the bow of the boat.
Go back now.

Mahri ignored him and continued to explore Sea Forest with this new ability. So much had been closed off to her!
It was as if she’d been blind and could suddenly see, yet more than that for all of her senses expanded to encompass the brilliance of the forest. She experienced each small life and plant, but still embraced the forest as a whole harmonious throbbing entity. And rather than being overwhelmed and lost in it all, she kept her own identity apart. Even while knowing the smallness of her place in the whole, Mahri retained the enormity of her own being.

“Jaja, it’s wondrous!” She tried to form words for what she felt, and knew that they couldn’t come close. “This is what the natives wanted, isn’t it? For all humans to feel the oneness of Sea Forest—to respect our dependence on the whole pattern.”

Jaja turned and gave the equivalent of a mental snicker.
Takes long time for all to See. Few, then more. Must all Bond, be equal. Prince of Changes start the chain. You must show him. Go back now?

Mahri released her awareness and centered on her own self, concentrated on the monk-fish’s words. “Just because I can lower my barrier for you and the forest doesn’t mean that I could for him.”

You strong enough now, foolish-friend.

She shook her head in negation. This new sensation was nothing like what she’d felt with Korl. Jaja couldn’t understand the power of the human soul, the risk when two people sought to share minds. Maybe the alienness of Sea Forest and its natural inhabitants allowed that keeping of herself apart, but what she’d felt the few times she and Korl had done such a thing had been the near extinction of her own self.

I can’t go back,
she thought, and Jaja gaped in disbelief.
You’re wrong, Jaja. I’m not strong enough to
join with Korl in the way your people want. And I’m not strong enough to resist him, so I must get as far away from him as possible.

Jaja pointed with his webbed finger.
Go that way, no come back!

Mahri picked up the oars that she’d let fall during their conversation and began to row out to the open sea.

“So be it,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to come back from the Beyond, knowing that fear goaded her yet somehow not caring. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

She waited for Jaja’s reply, afraid that he’d take her up on the offer, then breathed a sigh of relief when he threw a small webbed fist forward over the bow in that familiar gesture of “onward.” But he threw one last thought at her, before retreating behind a stubborn wall of silence.

Silly, silly human.

Mahri had thought the open sea would be just like her channels, just bigger. She couldn’t have been more wrong. When she Saw into the waves, the strings were broader, stronger, and refused to change into the shapes she strove to form. Chewing more zabba seemed to help a bit but she didn’t know these waters and until she did all the Power in the forest wouldn’t help. Her muscles ached from rowing and she used the zabba to enhance their strength instead.

The sun lay hot on her shoulders as they crested wave after wave, their goal of tree lines never seeming any closer. Mahri fell into the rhythm of her rowing,
wondering if Jaja were right, if this journey would take her on a path she’d never return from. If that were true… she’d refused to think of Korl for so long that she had to fight to bring up the memory of him. Perversely, Mahri felt safe to do so now. Now that he lay beyond her reach.

His eyes were the easiest to remember, that pale green fire that had always drawn her right into his arms. The soft strands of golden hair, whispering across her fingers. The curve of his mouth and the tilt to his nose, broad shoulders rigid with muscle, skin velvet beneath her palms. Mahri sighed and shifted where she sat.

Her memories stoked smoldering embers and she told herself that her body had gotten used to being loved again, that was all. The ache to feel his arms around her was a physical response to thoughts of his nearness.

Something twisted inside of her at the idea of never touching him again, never feeling the strength in his hands as they caressed her shoulders, her breasts, down, past her belly, making her suck in her breath, as they reached for the place that needed his touch the most…

Mahri swore, her voice bouncing across the waters to be absorbed by the sheer mass of it. How could she be doing everything in her power to put as much distance as possible between the two of them, yet still torture herself by the mere thought of him touching her? Seasons of travel separated them, and soon a large breadth of ocean, and yet she could still feel him in this boat. Still feel that he was a part of her.

Spirit-friend.

Mahri looked up, blinked as if coming awake from some dream. “Why do you call me that, anyway?” she thought to ask Jaja.

We one, too.
He shrugged, as if that was the best explanation he could relay to her.
Uh, night comes.

The sun had indeed set with a glow of orange and she realized that they’d only made it halfway to that line of trees. They’d be forced to stay all night on the open sea and as night rain began to fall Mahri hoped that it wouldn’t bring any heavy storms with it. She dropped the oars, her fingers so cramped around the handles of them that it took an agonizing while to force them open. Blisters had popped on her palms and she chewed zabba and healed them, then covered her craft with the narwhal tent to sluice off most of the rain.

All the while, her thoughts stayed on Korl. She’d been so certain that distance would dull her desire for him and now that it hadn’t she felt even more confused about her feelings. Could it be possible that she’d given her heart to him, as well as her body? Even though she’d tried so desperately not to? Her fingers fumbled with the rope she’d been tying, amazed that she’d allowed herself to even form that idea.

Thunder cracked overhead and she looked up with a frown. “That’s what I get for hoping.”

Waves that had formed small troughs before, now grew to create one deep abyss after another. It was like the Royal’s elevator, making her stomach fly up to her throat, then slam back past her knees. Jaja attached himself to her waist by a death-grip on her belt as the storm continued to grow.

Mahri couldn’t allow herself to crawl beneath the tent and just let the fury of the tempest control her fate. She had to stand beneath the deluge of rain that felt like shells being pelted against her skin and chew more root.
She’d thought to go easy on zabba tonight as it always weakened one after the Power was spent, and she needed the strength to row again tomorrow. As she looked far up to the crest of another mammoth wave she knew that without the Power there wouldn’t be a tomorrow for her.

Mahri shifted her sight and Saw into the rebellious water, knowledgeable enough about the sea now to not even try to Push the whole of it, just manipulate the surface so that her craft skimmed with the curve of the dips. When a wave threatened to break above them and drag the boat down she used the Power to skim beneath and rise up to the next curve.

It would be a fight to see who could last the longest. The storm or her Power.

“More root, Jaja,” shouted Mahri over the roar of the sea, afraid to let go of the sides of her craft now, it bucked so alarmingly. Her little pet dug into the pouch and fed her the rest of the bag for the next few hours, sustaining Mahri and allowing the Power to flow. But the tempest continued—if anything it seemed to grow in proportion—and she wondered at the ferocity of it. It seemed that without the shelter of the trees the fury of a storm could grow unabated.