Bound by Blood and Sand (25 page)

Elan stared at Jae in horror. He barely had time to understand what she said before she was continuing, “It should be easy enough for you to get back to Aredann. When the binding is restored, it will rain. I'm sure of it. You'll be all right in the desert this time. Just walk toward the sunrise each morning.”

“Jae—” Tal started, but she ignored him.

“You'll have to find the knife,” she said to Elan. “Tal can stay at Aredann—he'll be safe there, once there's water. But the moment he's around other people, it'll be too obvious he's cursed, so you'll have to do that. I don't know where the knife is, but”—she pointed at the mosaic—“it's that one, there. The Highest have it somewhere, and you
must
find it, and destroy it. Break it, melt it down—any way you can—”

“Jae!” Tal shouted.

She finally stopped at stared at him. “It's the only way.”

“Are you sure?” Elan asked, then looked away guiltily. Of course it was the only way. She wouldn't be talking like this if it wasn't. She was the one who understood magic, who'd tried to restore the binding already. Whatever she'd discovered in the magic behind the mosaic must have convinced her.

But he wasn't sure he could do what she was asking. He'd try—he'd search for the knife—but he had no idea where to start, or whether he'd even be able to destroy the knife if he
did
find it. It sounded like the knife was magic, too, and he was no mage. Only Jae was. Without her, the idea of breaking the Curse seemed impossible. And Jae giving her life after all this just wasn't
fair.

But she finally answered him. “Yes. It requires a life.”

A
life. Hers. Unless…He felt like he had when he'd spotted the sandstorm on the horizon. The dread was sudden, the danger definite. But instead of running, he had to face it. “What I mean is, forgive the question, but does it have to be
you
? Your life?”

Jae was quiet for a long moment, and Elan knew the answer before she even spoke. “It doesn't
have
to be, but—”

“Then I'll do it,” he said.

Jae and Tal both stared at him, and the words he'd just spoken echoed in his own ears. He'd said it without thinking, but it resonated inside him, felt
right.
He'd lost everything. His status, his position. His family—maybe,
maybe
Erra would help him, but their father would forbid it if he found out. And more than all of that, he'd lost his faith.

Before he'd come to Aredann, his family's history had been as sure as the sun in the sky. He'd believed their every move had been driven by necessity, had been justified because they protected the world from chaos and the desert both. The Highest families had kept the peace, and when they'd been cruel, it had been because they'd had no choice.

But it had all been a lie.

The Closest hadn't started the war. The Well had been theirs, and they had suffered for generations because Elan's ancestors were thieves. That his ancestors had started the war was bad enough, but that they'd forced the world to forget that, to believe they were guiltless protectors, was worse.

Everything Elan knew about the world had changed, and there was nothing left he could trust—nothing except Jae, who had told him the truth, and who had the power to right the Highest's wrongs. The world needed her, but the sun would still rise tomorrow if he died.

“I'll do it,” he repeated. “You're the only one who has magic, and we don't really know what it will take to break the Curse. You can't die here, and I can. It's as simple as that.”

“No, it's not,” she said, but she was still staring at him, her eyes wide and her voice soft. It wasn't the way she usually looked at him, from behind a blank mask or with a sneer of disdain. But her face hardened, and the moment passed. “The sacrifice needs to be from the Wellspring Bloodlines, to link them back to the Well and restore its binding. If we had someone else here, maybe, but…it has to be me.”

Elan didn't even have a chance to feel relieved—relieved
or
disappointed—before Tal said, “Or me. We have the same blood.”

“No.”

“Jae—”

“No,”
she repeated. “You're the only one I care about saving. If you die, the world can turn to dust for all I care.”

“But
I
care.” Tal reached out, grabbed her hand. “Elan is right. You have magic. That means you're the most important person in the world. You can change things, change
everything—
”

“But I don't care about that if you're not—”

“Listen to me!” Tal yelled, and Jae yanked her hand back as if she'd been stung. “Back there, in that world, I can't even talk, but here and now, you have to listen to me. This isn't about you, or me, or any one person. This is about all of us. All of Aredann,
all
of the Closest, and—and the Twill and even the Avowed.
Everyone.
If you die here, we can't be sure that Elan will be able to break the Curse—he's not a mage. You are. You're the world's best hope, and if you die here, everyone else might die, too.”

“Maybe they deserve to.” Jae looked defiant, the way she had when Elan had tried to talk to her after she'd killed Rannith.

“But maybe they don't,” Tal countered. “You're not the only one who's been hurt, Jae. But you had your revenge. Rannith is dead. You used your power to kill him, and maybe you were right to do it, but for every Rannith out there, there's…there's someone like you were, powerless and scared and angry, who deserves better. I'm willing to die to give them a chance, but it's meaningless if you won't help them.” Tal stared at her, and she all but squirmed under that fixed, fierce gaze.

Finally she murmured, “It's meaningless if I lose you.”

“No,” Tal breathed. “It means everything to
me.
To know you'd be free—that Gali could be free, safe, happy—that everyone else could, too. You can protect them. You and I can give them that, together. But not if you throw your life away.”

“
You're
willing to—”

“But I'm not. You said it was a sacrifice. Coming from me, it's a gift. From you, it's a death sentence for all of us.”

Jae's angry mask was crumbling in front of them, her shoulders shaking as she repeated, “No, no, Tal,
please,
” over and over. He held her hand in both of his as she shook.

“There must be another way,” Elan said, desperate, even though he knew it was pointless before Jae's head shake confirmed it. If there had been another way, she'd never have planned to sacrifice herself in the first place.

“I don't want to leave you,” Tal said, pulling Jae close as her eyes finally went glassy and damp. “I'd do anything to stay with you, but if one of us has to go, let it be me. I trust you to carry on, do things I never could. Please, please let me do this for you.”

“But what if—what if— Without you, I can't, I don't
care,
” she gasped. “Everything I've done has been to protect you, and now—”

“Now I'm protecting you.”

“I'd be all alone. I can't do this alone.”

“You
won't
be alone,” Tal said, and looked up at Elan again. Tal's eyes were damp, too, and his gaze pinned Elan down.

“I'll help you,” Elan said. “I'll do anything I can. I'd do…I'd do anything for you.”

Jae didn't even look at him, just buried her face in Tal's shoulder. “I don't care about anyone else. I don't want to live without you.”

“But I want you to,” Tal said. “I want you to live, and go on living, and let everyone else live, too. And I want you to finish what we started, and I want you to swear to me that you will.”

Jae didn't answer, but Tal wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back. He glanced at Elan, then away, and Elan ached because he couldn't do anything. He couldn't take this burden from them, and he didn't even know how to comfort Jae. Tal was the only one who could do that, and Elan would make a poor substitute at best. But he meant what he said: he'd do anything for her. If the best he could do was give them privacy, then he would.

He turned toward the opening in the tree trunk and mumbled, “I'll find us something to eat,” and left them to the pain he'd never really be able to understand.

They built their camp under the trees again, this time closer to where the trees gave way to the cliff and the staircase down to the Well. It required shoving some bushes out of the way, breaking their branches until there was enough room for the three of them to sit and eat.

Jae was numb, and barely even tasted the roots Elan had laid out in a nest of embers to cook. She wasn't hungry, but ate anyway, more from habit than anything else. She'd almost never had enough to eat before in her life; the idea of turning down food was just too foreign. A meal was a meal.

It would be Tal's
last
meal.

She hadn't even had time to accept what rebinding the Well would require when he'd volunteered to sacrifice himself, carving a pit out of her heart. It didn't matter that what he and Elan said made sense. It didn't matter that she'd be better able to protect Aredann, free the Closest, than Elan alone.

“You don't have to…Everyone at Aredann might already be dead,” she said, her voice rusty.

Tal looked up sharply. “I won't believe that.”

“It might be for nothing. You can't—”

“
You
were going to,” Tal said. “For that same ‘maybe.' And I
don't
think they're dead.”

“But—”

“And even if they are,” he said, pressing ahead, over her objections, “there are other estates with no water that might be abandoned. If I can't save the Closest at Aredann, I
will
save the others, and give you the time to free them.”

Jae looked away from him. She knew she should be ashamed that she was so willing to bargain away other Closests' lives for Tal's, but she'd accepted that awful choice days ago, when she'd been willing to trade him for every other Closest at Aredann.

Tal tossed aside a fruit rind. “I think the fruit out here is better than anything in Aredann's orchards. I visited them once, you know.”

“I remember,” Jae said.

Tal turned to Elan, somehow managing to smile. Jae knew it was forced, but it seemed to fool Elan. “We were infants when our mother was brought into the household to nurse Lady Shirrad. We came in with her. We were never supposed to leave the grounds, not unless we were ordered to. Which we never were.”

“But you found a way,” Elan said. To his credit, he didn't ask how.

“Yes. I was…twelve, I think. It was before our mother died. Lady Shirrad said she wanted dates. Of course, she probably meant the dried ones they kept in the kitchen, but she didn't specify, so I decided to find some that were fresh. Still on the tree, in fact.”

Elan gave a slight, awkward laugh. Tal's smile broadened, and he cast his glance over at Jae. She tried to return the smile that Tal so obviously wanted from her, but couldn't quite manage it.

“Our mother was very, very angry when I told her. She asked where I'd been all day. I could have been caught.” He paused significantly, then leaned in a little to add in a conspiratorial whisper, “If any of the Avowed figured out what I was up to, they might have realized
she
got up to it, too. I'd have ruined it for all of us.”

“And I suppose all of the Closest did the same,” Elan said.

“Only a few,” Tal said. “Those of us who were more creative than others at how we carried out orders. And who paid a lot of attention to what the Avowed
really
said instead of what they meant to say. I learned it from her.”

Elan cast a questioning look at Jae, who shook her head. “I was never any good at it. But…” She cleared her throat. It didn't matter what Tal confirmed now. “But Tal always stole enough for both of us.”

“I never stole,” Tal said. “The Closest worked the land, grew the crops, tended the beasts—it was as much ours as any Avowed's, when you think about it like that. And it's not
my
fault if no one ever told me not to take things.”

“It sounds like you're very lucky no one ever caught on,” Elan said. “Though I'm sure you had a story ready in case someone ever did.”

“No story,” Jae said. “No lies.”

“Just a little bit of truth,” Tal agreed. Voice going high and tremulous, he said, “It's just, Lady Guardian, I know you always
mean
to care for all of us Closest as part of Aredann. I only didn't want to bother you with it!”

Jae actually
did
laugh at that, despite herself. Tal was mad if he thought Shirrad cared even a little—he had to, if he'd said it—but then again, Shirrad clearly cared for
him.
Maybe that made it easier for him to believe the rest, that all he'd been doing was taking care of the Closest for her.

He'd
always
taken care of them.

Jae's laugh turned into a choked sob, and a second later his arms were around her, holding her close. But only for a moment before he stood up and offered her a hand.

“Come on. It'll be sunset in a minute. Elan said it'll be glorious.”

Jae almost felt as if she was compelled by the Curse. She stood, Tal's hand in hers, and followed him through the trees to the bare cliff top. Elan followed behind them, and the three of them stood together and watched the sun as it turned to liquid gold, as the water below dazzled and sparkled and swallowed it, leaving an open, beautiful sky whose stars were reflected on the waves below.

“I'm glad I got to see that,” Tal said, and though his smile was genuine, Jae had never seen him look so sad.

Jae hadn't expected to sleep at all, but she found herself waking as a few rays of early sunlight fought their way through the canopy. Elan was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and Tal was pacing. So it wasn't a surprise when he turned to her and said, “It's time.”

Jae hesitated, staring up at him.

He stopped in front of her and said, “Jae, ask me if I want to do this.”

She knew there would be a hundred ways he could answer, none of which actually meant yes, but she asked it anyway: “Do you want to do this?”

“No,” he said, but before she could respond, he continued, “But I am
willing
to do it—and I have to. Just…promise me…”

She watched him, waiting as he chose his words very carefully.

“Promise that you'll remember me. And when you do, you'll remember to be merciful.”

Her throat went tight. Of course she'd remember him. She'd remember him with every breath she ever took, every sunset, every drop of water she drank. But mercy…She wasn't sure a world without Tal deserved that.

But of course, that was why he'd asked it of her. She knew that, just as surely as she knew his smile. He needed her promise because he wouldn't be there anymore, standing at her side to remind her that even though she was powerful enough to kill, she could also grow flowers.

She caught his gaze and held it, and almost wished she were cursed so he'd know for certain it was the truth when she said, “I promise.”

“Then it's time.”

When it came down to it, all Jae really knew about magic came from her visions, her instincts, and the scraps of information Elan had found. The web of magic that made up the Well was so far beyond all of that that it was almost impossible to understand, but in her vision inside the mosaic room, she'd seen how the Wellspring mages had bound it all together. So she led Tal out to the edge of the cliff, where Janna had connected the Bloodlines together.

Elan followed them. “I'm here. If you need— If I can—Tell me how to help.”

“There's nothing you can do,” Jae said, voice hollow.

Elan looked down at the ground, then up one last time. He took Tal's hand and clasped it in both of his, not speaking. Tal smiled wanly, and their eyes met. Then Elan let go and stepped back to sit near the tree line and wait.

Jae and Tal stood there, side by side, staring out at the Well. From up here, it looked endless, and the sky was perfect, cloudless. Even the air was still. The Well's surface was a dark smudge beneath them, brightening slightly as the sun rose, gentle ripples dancing across it. It reminded Jae of Gali's drawings, as though if she stared at it long enough, she might be able to see the picture in it.

But there was no picture, just dawn reflecting back up at them. Falling into the water would be like flying.

“We'll need something sharp enough to break skin,” Jae said, looking around. Tal cast around, too, found a jagged stone, and handed it to her. It wasn't exactly Janna's ceremonial knife, but it would do the job.

“Tell me what to do,” Tal said.

“Just sit,” she said. “For now, just…wait. Just…be with me.”

He nodded, and they both sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff. When she slid into other-vision, she could feel him. The bright light his energy cast was so close to hers that they were impossible to separate, completely intertwined. The way the two of them had always been.

Reaching out, she felt for the shape of the spell, the ancient framework Janna and her friends had laid out. The Well as a whole was meant to attract and direct water, to seal water to this spot and send it where it was needed. She could feel the Well's purpose, but as the binding had unraveled, so had its power. As much water as there was now, Jae knew there should be much, much more. Eyes shut, she thought about the way water's unique energy felt, and she
pulled.
There was only a trickle in the desert, and she couldn't feel any farther than that.

When she opened her eyes again, three small clouds dotted the sky. In her vision of Janna and the mages, it had been a rainstorm. This would have to be enough.

The other members of the Wellspring Bloodlines were so far away that they were more like an idea than anything she could sense, but she reached inside herself, reached into Tal, and found the connection between all of them. If she pulled on it, all of the Closest—the Wellspring Bloodlines—would feel it. All the descendants of the mages who'd bound themselves together here, and then been bound again by the Curse.

Sure enough, Tal said, “Everything is…tingling.”

“It's the other Closest,” she said. “You can feel them all.”

“You know, I like that idea.” He let out a breath, and the glow of his energy expanded as if he were reaching out somehow, even though he wasn't a mage. “That we're all connected.”

“That's the connection that will…that will save everyone,” Jae said.

“I like that even better.”

That brought tears back to her eyes, and she forced herself to concentrate on the magic that was around them now. If she didn't make herself look away from him, she'd never be able to go through with this. Even so, she was already blinking back tears as she used the stone to tear at her arm, and the tears had nothing to do with pain.

“And now me, I take it,” Tal said.

She nodded. Maybe they didn't have to do this part—they had the same blood, and the Wellspring Bloodlines were already bound together. But even so, she pressed her bleeding arm to his, let the energy that made up the two of them swirl together and merge.

The Well seemed to sing as she did it. The magic in the Well surged, reaching up toward them, as if it was hungry to have the binding restored. The clouds on the horizon grew thicker and darker, the air heavier.

“I can feel it,” Tal murmured, taking her hand. “It's…it's so big. There's going to be so much water, Jae.”

She nodded.

“You'll never be thirsty again.”

She made herself nod, but couldn't smile. She'd endured the desert once, and a lifetime of thirst before it. She'd do it all again, resign herself to a lifetime of thirst and sunsickness, if it would keep him at her side.

“And now I…,” he prompted, but he was already eyeing the edge of the cliff.

All Jae could do was nod.

“Then it's time,” he said yet again.

She could barely hear him over the sudden wind. He was right, it was time, but it would
never
be time. She'd never be ready for this, never be able to let him go.