Eyes in the Water (25 page)

The juile’s voice was low and somber. “Bren,
what was it that Preifest wrote?”

“The exact words?” Brenol thought briefly.
“Do not bring it to the water. It will only cause death.” He
furrowed his brow.

Arman sighed. The sound bespoke pain. “I had
wondered as much too, when Colette had said she must go to Ziel.
But out on the water it finally made sense.”

“Yes?” Brenol asked.

“They didn’t want to waste it on themselves,”
Colette said softly. She spoke not with the tone of new revelation.
She had concluded this much on the lake as well.

Arman nodded, although the two could not see
the gesture. “They were passing anyway, somehow. That is what
Preifest said, what the Genesifin says. Jerem’s poison merely
hurried the process… I think to create the level of enchantment
needed to heal the terrisdans is no small work. It would likely
have been all they could manage. And if they had been in the water
when the hos was released? The healing powers would have gone to
them too, and the lands would not have received enough.”

“Then why not tell us as much?”

Colette wiped her glistening cheek. “To
ensure that our world was saved.”

“Death truly would have followed,” Brenol
said with sudden understanding. “But not theirs. They were just
making sure we didn’t try to save them.”

“Their benere has been great indeed,” Arman
said softly.

Colette nodded. Her hand crept over to
Brenol’s. The warm pressure of his grip was a gentle consolation in
the midst of her sorrow.

Arman’s invisible eyes rested upon the two,
alternating between amusement and grief. Eventually, the juile
spoke, “I must go to Ziel.”

“Today?” asked Brenol.

Colette nodded. “I must too.”

Brenol raised a coppery eyebrow.

“No reason to postpone,” Arman replied,
rising, and the two heard the flapping of his robes as wind met his
straightened frame.

The juile did not glance again to his
companions but merely turned south and began the journey. Colette
and Brenol fumbled up to follow his swift strides.

It was an easy trek beside the Davoc; their
feet trailed the curving waterway while the rushing of the river
thundered in their ears. Its monotony served to ease the blaring
silence of their party, even if it could not assuage the pain in
their hearts. While it had been Arman’s grief that had spurred
their steps, Brenol could not deny the biting ache that clenched
his ribs and spread into his gut as reality settled. The maralane
would be but a memory for the rest of time.

The late afternoon breeze was icy and nipped
their noses and ears to a stinging red while their lungs puffed out
white and lifted from their lips like prayers. Arman’s faint figure
became visible as the group entered the lugazzi, but all remained
silent. As they drew nearer, the air swelled with a sweet humidity,
and clouds crowded the skies to block the sun. The whole land
suddenly darkened—as though all of Massada donned black in
mourning.

Brenol approached Ziel shivering. He followed
the others but hung back with an unusual sense of
self-consciousness; he knew nothing of the death rites of the land
and suddenly felt keenly aware of his own foreignness.

Arman removed his shoes and laid them upon
the sandy shore. He stood erect, a transparent man-giant, with
clothing whipping like a flag in a storm, and stared out into the
blue and brume. He stepped into the cool water, and his toes and
ankles disappeared under dark ripples.

The juile removed an item from his cloak and
held it out in extended hands like an offering ready to be plucked.
He whispered, though audibly enough that Brenol could hear. “Long
have you given bounty to the creatures of Massada. Thank you for
all that you have taught me, all the experience you have given me,
and for the love you have shown to the juile during the braiding of
our histories. Thank you, above all, for saving our world. May your
future travels be bountiful.”

He bowed low and remained as such for several
minutes. When he rose, he lifted high the object—a brechant nut
lantern—and lit it.

“No more shall we knock on your door, for
your door is no more.”

The lantern crackled to life, suddenly
shooting fire in all directions. In his possession, the lantern
carried the quality of Arman—glass-like clarity—but as soon as the
beams left his person, they shocked the dim evening with vibrant
flames. The juile held it aloft without a wince or trace of fear.
He turned his head expectantly to his companions, and Colette
stepped forward, glancing briefly at Brenol. In that moment, he
could have wept simply for her sake, for in her eyes was an
affliction deeper than he would have thought possible.

She toed her way into the water, hesitating
slightly, and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for seeing me and
helping me. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for
helping us save the terrisdans—or at least try to. And…and thank
you for sharing your waters. I…I only have my own to give back to
you.” Colette gracefully wiped the tears that streamed down her
cheek and placed her hands into the water. “You were so beautiful.”
She touched her lips gently to her dripping palm and then submerged
it anew: a kiss for the dead.

Brenol was speechless. He found his own agony
forgotten before her words and distress, and his self-consciousness
blossomed anew. His foot began to burrow with the toe—a habit from
his youth—and suddenly his eyes perceived the motion. He sighed,
shaking his head as he awoke to the moment.

Silly man. This isn’t about me. Not about
me,
he thought, recalling Darse’s words to him so many orbits
ago.
Life isn’t just about me. Did I come here to impress Arman
and Colette? Or to honor a people now lost forever?

He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and
then stepped forward and allowed the icy water to numb his feet and
shins. Ever so softly, like a hand leading him forward, the pungent
sweetness summoned him to the ghosts that lurked heavily within.
His mind played out his memories of the lake-men, his conversations
with Preifest. Then a fissure opened, and emotion choked him. He
collapsed in a trembling kneel and let the cold surround him while
he wept.

His whispers were barely audible. “Thank you.
For everything.” He bowed his head and touched Ziel’s screen with a
kiss.

After several minutes, he spoke again.
“Preifest…you once told me that the isle had been tunneled to one
day unite the upper and lower worlds… What happened to us all was
sloppy and terrible, but I think that in the end we did come
together. Not through an isle, but the dream still came to pass. Be
at peace.” Brenol mouthed the names of the dead he knew—Preifest,
Samest, Helst, Carest—and his vision filled with the nameless
maralane child he had buried in the soft loam.

Arman bowed deeply, and his robes dipped into
the water, clinging to him as he righted. “It has been bountiful.”
He leaned his body back and heaved the spraying lantern out upon
the lake. It sunk into darkness.

As if in response, the sun descended from the
clouds and settled into the earth like a fire licking the last
embers of its hungry feast. Pink, orange, and red striped from
horizon to zenith and left Brenol small before the vastness of the
heavens. He did not turn his eyes from the last rutilant lights,
for somewhere within lay an unspoken fear that they might never
return.

Colette did not allow her vision to stray
either, yet more out of reverie than anxiety. She quietly recalled
the sunsets on the mount she had seen as a child and how she had
shared them with Deniel. He had been her protector, her friend, her
brother, her cartontz. Colette held the images with an openness,
examining them like a child discovering a pebble or a feather, and
found that as she released them, there was a simple and content
joy; the harrowing pain had disappeared. No more was the restless
ache there to exhaust her, no more did emptiness hound her
heels.

Colette smiled, breathing in a wholeness she
had thought she would never again achieve.

I really am alive. I really am going to
survive. I lived despite Jerem. I am finding life past Den… I can
face what comes. I truly can.

She blinked back tears as relief swept
through her. Thought and emotion flowed up with a lucent clarity.
She saw the man before her now—the strong, proud man of
benere
—
and glimpsed the depth of her affection. Brenol would
never replace Deniel, but she did not want him to. She wanted
Brenol as himself, for
he
was what she needed,
he
was
who she loved. There was no need to grope in her past. Her present
and future lay before her eyes.

Wordlessly, she slid her hand into Brenol’s.
Their palms touched, and his countenance straightened in a new
knowing.

It is time,
he realized.

His arm slipped around her waist, and he
pulled her slender body to his. She drew in a breath—a honeyed purr
of contentment and surprise. He leaned forward in a gentle embrace,
peering into her face to discern her reaction. She smiled softly,
looking into his eyes, so green, so sure, and her own eyes
glittered with affection.

Brenol drew her tighter and kissed her as he
had always longed to do. Their lips merged and melted, and he felt
lost in the sea of her. His heart could barely contain all its
emotion. Everything in him promised to protect her, cherish her,
love her. There was nothing else but her. It was all Colette.

He curled his arms around her, and her own
arms wrapped surely around his neck. In his elation, he lifted her
from the ground, refusing to relinquish the kiss.

It may be the end of the terrisdans. Or
the beginning,
he thought.
But how can I even care when I’m
blind to all but love?

He lit her tiny feet down and watched as her
face glowed in pleasure, and felt her chest against his thrum in
song.

“We will face it together,” Brenol said with
conviction and strength.

“We will face it together,” she affirmed.

Arman, still present, merely smiled. He had
not forgotten the grave trials ahead of them, but breathed in the
beauty of the moment with satisfaction.

They turned again to the sunset, watching and
waiting for what the night and new day would bring.

Dearest readers,

Thank you for your time and readership. Please take
a moment and post a review on Amazon or Goodreads!

The next book in the series is
The Forbidding
Blue.
It will be released in the fall of 2016.

It has been a pleasure,

Monica Lee Kennedy