Fathoms of Forgiveness (Sacred Breath, Book 2) (18 page)

That is why Visola did not dance; she was not a peaceful person. In another life, she might have liked to be. She might have liked to be less tense and querulous, but it was her job to be on guard. This is why her hand flew to the hilt of her dagger when a shuffling noise was heard very close to her. Visola turned and saw the old woman who had previously been selling drugs.

“Would you like to know your future, violent one?”
the woman asked.

Visola’s lips cracked a smirk at being called this. She briefly wondered how the old woman knew that she was violent, but then she figured that Aazuria had said something.

“I do not have anything to pay you with,”
Visola responded apologetically.

“You do not need to pay me,”
the woman responded, seating herself beside Visola comfortably.
“On the night of the full moon we give each other gifts. It can be very healing to give gifts to another person. Consider this fortune a blessing from a stranger.”

“Alright,”
Visola signed, feeling a small amount of healthy curiosity.
“What do you have to tell me?”

“Let me look into your lungs,”
the woman said, and her hand darted out to collide with Visola’s breastbone. Visola was surprised by the speed and force of the old woman’s motion, but she did not protest. She was sure that the drug-peddling clairvoyant was relatively harmless.

“You will be killed by the man you love,”
the woman said after a minute. She looked up at Visola as if she was greatly startled by what she had seen.

Visola’s eyebrows rose. She waited to see if the woman would explain herself, but no explanation came.
“What do you mean? I have never been in love. There have been men… but no one of importance.”

“Hush, I need to read your lungs,”
the woman signed before her hands shot out again and grabbed Visola’s ribcage. Her fingers traveled upwards and generously groped the undersides of her breasts.

“Well, this is weird and uncomfortable,” Visola said out loud to no one in particular, knowing quite well that the woman could not understand English.

“Right now, you are elsewhere,”
the woman told her, with a confused look.
“You are far away, and you are dying. You are surrounded by flowers. Can you not smell them?”

Visola sniffed the air. There was nothing except the smell wafting over from men smoking pipes. It seemed to her that this woman was deeply under the influence of whatever substance she was peddling.
“I seem sort of alive to me. I could be wrong.”

The old woman rubbed her nose in frustration.
“I need more information. Tell me, which stars are calling out your name?”

Visola understood this question. She looked up at the sky, and noticed for the first time since they had arrived in New Holland that she did not recognize much. She felt a sudden wave of dizziness as the stars seemed to blur and move in her vision. It might be that the smoke from the people near to her was influencing her senses.

“I do not know these constellations very well,”
Visola told the woman.
“I am from very far north, and most of the stars are different there.”

“It is not knowing, it is feeling. Listen to what they say!”

Visola sighed, and glanced over to make sure that Aazuria was still fine. Seeing that all was well, she stared back up at the sky, figuring she had little else to do to kill the time. She scanned the dark foreign skies thoughtfully.
“Those ones.”

“Ah. I see. You are firebird masquerading as mermaid.”

Visola frowned at this cryptic diagnosis.

“You are marvelous at flying, violent one. You are marvelous in both air and flame, but this is not the time or place.”

“I do not understand…”

“You must swim deeper now than you ever have before."

“Right now?”
Visola asked, in a joking tone.
“I’ll get a headache.”

The woman held up her hand as if to indicate that she had something important to say. Her body began to shake, and her irises rolled back until only the whites of her eyeballs were visible. Her hands moved quickly in sign language as she trembled.

“Go deeper; in order to survive, you must. Hope is shallow—you dip your toes in it all the time. Submerge yourself until you find fortitude. Swim deep enough to taste prudence in the salt. Breach the murky waters of valor.”
The woman’s vacant eyes suddenly locked on Visola with a vicious temper.
“You do all this, yet you reach your limit when surrounded by truth! It crushes you, it crushes your bones. The pressure is too heavy, and the darkness too obscure. It is also cold. You cannot go any further. You have never gone beneath the truth. You cannot navigate the endless fathoms of forgiveness.”

 
Visola remained silent and unblinking for several seconds. Was it some kind of poem? Was the old woman reciting from memory? The words struck a chord in her, although she did not understand them. She chewed thoughtfully on her lip as she spoke with her hands.
“Are you telling me I must forgive someone? I have never forgiven anyone in my life.”

“If you want to survive, you must.”

“Where are you getting all this?”

“I have no idea what it means or from whence it came,”
the old woman responded with a smile.
“I hope you liked your gift.”

Visola sighed as she watched Aazuria dance around the fire.
“Yes. I think I need that pipe now.”

Visola puffed lazily on the pipe. She smiled a half-lidded smile as she yawned and stretched out in the sand. She could see that Aazuria was tossing around a silver ball in a giant fountain of blood. Sometimes the princess even juggled two or three balls. Visola had not known that her friend could juggle. When she grew bored with watching the circus animals splash around in the fountain of blood behind Aazuria, she turned her eyes to the sky, which was quieter. She sighed peacefully as she tried to listen for anything the stars might be trying to tell her.

One star tried to whisper, but it was too far away, and Visola told it to speak up. It agreed, and said it would also come closer. The star left the sky and began to travel toward her. As it approached, growing larger and larger, she realized that it was not a star at all, but a great phoenix. The bird’s body was made of red and gold flame, and it approached at an alarmingly rapid rate. The contrast of the bright red flames against the dark night sky was striking and terrifying.

The bird seemed to take a breath as its cavernous eyes widened; it let out a huge screech as it expelled fire from its lungs in a massive river of lava. Visola gasped, and tried to get out of the way. She found that she was attached to the ground by her wrist. She tugged and tugged, but she could not get free and the lava was heading straight for her.

Suddenly, she felt the light fluttering of wings across her face. A dark shape materialized between Visola and the stream of lava, protecting her from the onslaught. She saw the silhouette of giant black wings against the fire. When the heat of the flames became too much to bear, she found herself instinctively closing her eyes and burying her face into the sand, and she tasted the grittiness of it. She felt so helpless to be unable to run or fight. She should not have smoked the pipe; she would not have allowed someone to tie her down to the ground if she had been at full alertness.

The dark bird which had saved her from the fire now flew to her side and encircled her with a warm dark wing. The feathers were soft as they caressed her shoulder and cheek, and she relaxed against the bird.

“I need to take you somewhere safe,” the bird told her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I was so scared. I could not move. I was defenseless. That has never happened to me before.”

“It happens to all of us sometimes.”

“Why was the phoenix upset with me? What if it returns to burn me to cinders?”

“We will be long gone before it returns.”

“I wish I could go, but I am latched to the ground. I tried to run already.”

“I could carry you if you’re out of sorts. You could climb atop my back.”

“You will not be able to lift me,” she whispered, clutching her left wrist. “There’s a heavy metal chain. I cannot remove it. Will you please help me take it off? It weighs a ton.”

“Certainly, good lady. What a fine piece of work it is.”

“It’s a just an awful ball and chain. Please take it off!” she pleaded.

“It seems to be welded on.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said softly. “I will never be able to move. Not unless you chop my hand off. Will you see if there’s an axe nearby and please chop my hand off?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Then I am lost.”

“I will save you. If you hold on to me tightly, I will fly away into the sky, and we shall be free.”

She squinted. "Who are you?"

"Falcon of the Seas."

“Falcon.” Visola nodded. “I should have known. You are such a noble bird. Far better than eagles.”

“Thank you, good lady.”

“Are there falcons this far south?”

“I am not from around here.”

“Of course not. Where are you from?”

“Dreamland.”

“Ahhhh. I have never traveled there,” she said, reaching out to stroke his breast. “Your feathers are so dark. Soft as black silk. I would have guessed that you were a raven, but they are so sneaky; I do not like them very much. Would you like to sit on my arm?” Visola extended her limb so that the bird could alight on its perch.

The great bird testily reached out with one of its talons and circled Visola's arm around the elbow. Then he withdrew. “I'm afraid that my claws will leave ugly scratches in your smooth skin. You need to wear a special glove for this.”

Visola smiled. “My skin is actually a lot tougher than you might think, but you're the most considerate bird whom I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I am not a bird, Visola. I am a man.”

“What?” she asked, frowning. “Then why do you have a sharp beak and massive claws?”

“That story is too long to tell.”

She reached out and felt his claws, wrapping her fists around his talons. “Did an evil sorceress cast a spell on you to change you into a winged creature? That is horrible! Unless you like it better? Do you like it better? If so, I wish I could be a bird, like you.”

“No, good lady. It is better to be a human being.”

“I am not totally a human being, you know,” she said in a low tone. She lifted her hand and began to make lazy swimming motions. “I am a fish. A human-fish. Are you going to eat me, Falcon?”

“I promise I will not eat you. You’re safe.” The bird seemed to have a twinkle in his eye. “I prefer earthworms, personally. Fish give me indigestion.”

Visola was quiet for a moment as she combed her fingers through the dark feathers of the bird. “Falcon, is there a way I could change you back to being a human being? I want to break the curse the sorceress cast on you.”

“I do not think so. I have been trying to break the curse for a hundred years. I have flown all over the world, and I still cannot find the answer.”

“I heard that most curses can be broken with a kiss,” Visola said. “May I try, Falcon?”

“This particular curse was cast by a remarkably advanced sorceress. I do not think that a simple kiss will work this time.”

Visola ran both of her hands along the pointed beak of the bird. “There’s no harm in trying.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the falcon’s beak. It was hard and cool to the touch. She had never kissed a beak before, and it felt somewhat odd. “Is it working?” she asked, pulling away.

“No. I’m afraid not,” the bird said, somewhat disappointed. “I could hardly feel your soft lips through the hardness of my beak. I suppose I’ve cracked so many seeds open with it that it’s numb to sensation. I must be a lost cause.” 

“Do not say that!” Visola scolded. “You saved me from the phoenix and I have to repay you. If there’s a way to break this enchantment, I promise I will find it.” She reached out and slipped her arms under the dark, heavy wings of the falcon, nestling against his warm breast. She nuzzled his feathers contentedly. “Do not be disheartened. I am a great warrior. If there’s a dragon to slay, I will slay it for you. Easy as apple pie.”

“There are no dragons,” the falcon said. “There is only time.”

“Time,” she murmured. “I cannot defeat time.”

“None of us can.”

“Poor Falcon,” she said. “It must have been a great villainess who cursed you. Your wings are so very heavy. Do they get tired from flying all day?”

“They do,” he answered gruffly. The tips of his wings were caressing her lower back.  

She inhaled deeply. “You do smell like a man.” She reached up and ran her hand over the curve of his head. “Close your eyes,” she told him. When he did, she pressed her lips against his eyelid. Feeling how smooth it was, she began to place more kisses along his cheek. It felt more like skin than feathers, and she let her tongue dart out to press against his cheek. It tasted like sweat.

“You taste like a man too,” she said, pulling away in surprise. When he opened his eyes, the two stared at each other for a moment. Visola was spellbound in his gaze. “Your eyes are so round and dark. Behind them there is an intense anger, like that of a man, but no man I have ever met.”

“That is only because we had not met.”

“Now that we have met, I want you to stay with me. You must be my falcon. I will take you everywhere—you will come home to Adlivun with me, won’t you?”

“I will be your Falcon if you will be my Firebird.”

“Are you going to ask the sorceress to change me into a phoenix?” Visola asked with worry. “I have some issues with my temper, and I do not want to breathe fire onto my sister and scorch her.”

He smiled, reaching out and tangling his talons in her hair. “You are already a firebird. Look at this wild, red mane of yours. It’s inhuman.”

“I already told you that I am not human,” Visola said, closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the bird’s neck. She was conscious of a strange swaying motion that led her to believe that the bird was carrying her. She did not remember being picked up, but she felt abnormally safe.

“That’s right. You’re a humanfish. A mermaid.”

“No. Not really,” Visola said as she nestled against him. “I’m just a warrior. The king says ‘fight’ and I fight. I’m the little horse on the chessboard, and I leap over everything if he wants me to, and he still treats me badly.”

“That’s the way kings are,” the falcon said. “You can’t let them do that.”

“The Japanese king is so nice. I should go to live with them, but I can’t leave Zuri.”

“Is that your husband?”

“No! Princess Aazuria. I am her bodyguard. I was guarding her before the phoenix came, and now the whole world is on fire.”

“She is safe, I promise you that. I just need to take you somewhere safe.”

“I have never been safe. Have you ever been safe?”

The swaying motion stopped, and the falcon’s sharp eyes pierced into her. His pointed beak carried a serious expression. “No,” he answered, “and whenever I thought I was safe, it turned out that I really wasn’t.”

The swaying motion began again. “Be safe with me,” Visola pleaded.

“I wish I could be,” he answered. “I am taking you somewhere now that is supposed to be safe, but I’m not too sure. One can’t be too sure.”

Visola closed her eyes, and she almost fell asleep. The swaying was lulling. When the motion stopped again, her eyes shot open, and she saw that the falcon was about to fly away. “No, please don’t go!” she begged him. “Why don’t you stay and make love to me?”

He hesitated. “I can’t,” he told her. “I’m just a falcon.”

“It’s not a huge impediment,” she said, reaching for him, and pulling his body against hers. “You are so warm and soft. Make love to me, falcon.”

“You should not make love to strange birds, good lady—have you not heard the cautionary tale of what happened to Leda? What if I were the troublesome Zeus, disguised to take advantage of your moment of weakness?”

“That was a swan,” she informed him. “I am very particular about my man-birds. Swans and ravens are not to be trusted.”

“Neither am I, really.”

“I know you’re different. You saved my life, Falcon.” Visola nuzzled his beak, and smiled almost drunkenly. “Stay with me tonight. You may be a bird, but I can make you feel like a man.”

“There is no way I can resist an invitation like that,” he told her, before sinking his sharp beak into her neck.