Fireborn Champion (21 page)

His arms tired as his doubts intensified. They would never survive this storm. Hells, he barely had. A wave approached, and he considered just letting it take him.
 

 
No, you fool. You rode the thundersnow. You were a god of the skies. Now you’ll ride this storm into oblivion and back like a god of seas, magic or no.

He took a deep breath and stared down the wave. This was no thundersnow, but if he took himself back to that day, he could ride this just the same. And so Iron relaxed and listened to the maelstrom, recognized its power, accepted its might. Now it would accept his.

A cadence appeared in the chaos, and if he timed his breaths and movements properly, he kept his head above the waves.
 

Once again a mountainous wave pulled him higher. He felt a rush as he raced faster and faster until he reached its peak. There, above the world, soaring over the chaos, he spread his arms and laughed despite the rain and flash and crack of thunder. Then, the wave collapsed with more a whimper than a roar.

If storms could surrender, this one did. Each wave thereafter lost its punch and pull, and soon, Iron grasped sand instead of water.

He scampered from the churning sea and collapsed onto the sopping sands that slurped and gurgled as his weight depressed them. He rolled onto his back and starred into a sky so dark it masqueraded as midnight. He opened his mouth and let the rain soak him. The blessed, freshwater rain. It seeped into his clothes and deep into his bones.
 

He could have slept in the chaos like a babe in his mother’s arms, but he had work to do. One or two breaths passed before he rolled onto his knees and wobbled to his feet.

A long beach thick with palms, broad ferns, and dripping vines promised shelter a few steps away.

Iron struggled against the storm until he found shelter beneath a wide palm leaf. Shifting lines of raindrops twisted from the leaves. He wiped the water from his brow and peered into the storm. “Ayska? Sander? Kalila?”

Once again, they did not reply.

“
Ayska! Sander! Kalila!
”

A whack and crash jolted him; he spun. The
Sapphire Shitthole
—or rather, its carcass—tumbled onto the beach.

“Ay—”

A hand clapped around his mouth and yanked him back. He fought against his assailant, but thirst, hunger, and a wild ride through the chaotic sea depleted his strength. Another hand clasped his wrist and dragged him the few feet remaining between beach and jungle.
 

Whoever pulled him from the sands used the long fronds and drooping vines crowding them to keep their form masked. Iron stumbled back, falling to a knee. He went for his sword, a wave of relief darting through him as his fingers found Fang’s familiar grip. “I won’t let you have me, monster. Show yourself!”

“Monster?” a woman’s voice with a regal air unbecoming of such a wild place, drifted from the shadows. “I’m no monster, you rude young man. I am in fact your savior, as an idiot like you is trying oh so hard to guarantee his own death after braving this beast of a storm.”

“So…you’re not a monster? Not a demon?”

“How rude. I’m neither, my good boy.”
 

“Then why’d you drag me from the beach?”

“Why, to keep you safe of course.”

“Safe?”

She laughed and took a step back. “Why yes, safe. Have you been living in an oyster shell your entire life? The Rosvoi Islands are no safe place for civilized folk. It hasn’t been for a long time. Everyone knows they’re haunted. They’re wrong of course, but I must say I’d prefer the company of ghosts to the real inhabitants.”

“Well, you’re here and well enough.” He glared into the shadows. If only he had some light. He squeezed Fang’s grip and edged the weapon from the scabbard.

Her light chuckle filtered through the storm. A hand thrust from the shadows. Stringy rope bit deep cuts and bruises around her wrist. “Well enough, thank the Six. I’m not here on my own accord, though. No one with a grain of common sense would be, which puts you in doubt. Do you really know nothing of this cursed place?”

“It can’t be worse than where we’ve just been. Now, my friends—”

“Were captured. You speak of three, correct? An enormous woman, a smaller one with pretty braids, and a man dressed in black?”

“You saw them!” Iron lurched toward her, prodding the dark.
 

The woman backed deeper into the jungle. “I did. They’ve already been captured. Poor things, really. At least tonight’s not a feast night. I heard no drums.”

“Feast night?”

“Yes, my ignorant little friend. You’re lucky you’re cute despite looking like a half-drowned rat that just paddled from one end of the Sapphire Sea to the other.” She sighed and headed into the island. “If you want to live, you’ll come with me. Otherwise, don’t be surprised if you end up with spears pointed at your chest and a bunch of smelly cannibals licking their chops at your arms and legs.”

“Cannibals?” Iron wheeled toward the beach. The rain calmed just enough and parted its curtain on shadowy figures creeping toward the shattered skiff.

“Yes, young man, but don’t you worry. You’re free enough if you come with me. If you ever want to see your friends again, then you’ll follow.”

Iron slipped Fang into its scabbard. He cursed and ran after his mysterious rescuer as the jungle closed around them.

Iron followed the woman’s murky silhouette through the thick maze of fronds, vines and hissing things lurking in the dripping black. Thick tangles of branches clamoring for the sky wove a roof over the spongy earth, and between it and the dying storm, Iron actually began to dry. He ducked beneath a branch and quickened his pace. His guide had few words for him, and the way she kept scanning the shadows betrayed her fear of the island.
 

“Where’re we going?” he asked.

“
Shh
.”

What an odd creature, this woman. To think of it, every woman he’d met had been an enigma to him. From choleric Thyra to frustrating Ayska, quiet Kalila, and stoic Fiolle, how to interact with the other sex eluded him no matter how logically he approached the situation.
 

 
Sander spoke of women often, but in his stories they gushed praises and slathered adoration on his master like he’d been one of the Six come to Urum. Iron doubted those stories now, but in a way, he was glad to do so. Real women held so much more in their thoughts and words than the mindless giggling girls of Sander’s fantasies.

He followed the woman between tight-knit palms with exposed roots clawing over a sharp granite wall. He slipped as he grabbed a slick trunk, and his foot caught on the rock. “

Dammit!” he hissed, sucking in a breath at the flash of pain.

“Do you not comprehend the meaning of
shh
? You’re going to have to learn to follow orders a little better.” She didn’t wait or extend a hand to help him, but melted into the shadows like a wraith.

Iron scrambled up the short climb and through the trees. He stumbled onto a beach peppered with graying rocks speckled with lime moss. The stones ran into a deep lagoon rippling as intermittent raindrops plopped onto its slate surface. On its far end, the mountain spit a wide waterfall that crashed into the lake with a never-ending sigh.

“I assume you can swim,” she said, diving into the pool. The arc of her arms came and went as she cut a path through the water toward the falls.

Iron trudged into the water, and it gurgled into his boots. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. His heart sank at the prospect of another swim, and he lingered knee deep in the pool’s embrace.

His shadowy savior paused in the middle of the pool, sending rippling circles across its surface. Long hair pooling around her hooded her face, but even in shadows her eyes glimmered. “Bless the Six, don’t tell me you can’t swim.”

“No, I can. It’s just—”

“You want me to carry you?
Hah!
Get in this water now or you’re going to get us killed. You think they don’t have eyes all over this island? You think they aren’t scouring the wild for any other survivors? Come or don’t, but I’ll be sorely disappointed if I went so far out of my way to save you only for you to give up on the edge of safety.”

She slipped beneath the waves and left Iron to his thoughts. With a last roll of his shoulders, he dove after her.

By the time he reached the falls, his arms burned and his head swam. While the waterfall spanned the length of the lagoon, it was barely more than a veil over the cliff. He kicked, the last of his energy fading, and passed through the watery curtain.
 

His mysterious guide waited on the other side, perched on a rock ledge just above the waterline. She stood when she saw him and headed for a cave carved into the granite. “Glad to see you made it. Now, get yourself out of that pond. I’m sure you’re starving, no? I’ve gathered some nuts and berries and this delightfully delicious thing that grows beneath the palms. It took simply an eternity to crack one open, but once I did, I was just hooked. Just hooked!”

Iron struggled onto the ledge. Water had worn the jagged rock smooth, a fact Iron’s hands and knees greatly appreciated. He flattened on the overhang and pressed his brow against the cool stone.
 

Cannibals had Sander, Ayska, and Kalila. How was it that every time danger crashed into his life, it always drowned the ones he cared for while sparing him? Ghosts of fallen gods must be spiteful spirits indeed.

“Are you dying?” the woman asked in a slightly inconvenienced tone, like she’d lost a cheap earring.

“I should be. My friends died because of me. Now the ones who survived might be eaten by cannibals.” He wanted to cry. His parched body denied him tears.

“
Awww
.” Her sopping clothes plopped beside him as she took a seat. “Isn’t your sad little life just so awful. Goodness, it’s almost like no one else has ever suffered hardships like yours. If you’re looking for a pity partner and shoulder to cry on, please make every possible haste and go drown yourself in the pool. Better yet, go do it in the sea. I don’t want any corpses bobbing around my hiding spot.”

No energy remained within him for an angry retort or argument. After a few silent moments, she sighed. “If it’s any consolation, the sorry state you and your friends are in will buy them time. The Goshgonoi like healthy prisoners, so they’ll plump them up before…well, I think you understand what a cannibal is. No need for me to broach the subject once again.”

Iron lifted his face and finally saw his rescuer. Her stature matched her tone; chin high, one brow arched as if in constant disapproval, lips ready to purse at a word that crossed her. Blond hair washed over her shoulders, framing hazel eyes shaded by long lashes. Freckles peppered her nose and cheeks, giving her a playful youthfulness that blunted her haughty stature.
 

Their eyes met. She painted on a smile and extended her hand, knuckles nearly to his lips. “Nephele Catrona, Priestess of the Gentle Lover, Patroness of Soft Caresses and Guardian of Unspoken Longings. You may kiss my hand despite the awful condition of your lips, as it is the proper way to greet a lady. Plus, I saved you so it’s the very least you can do, sailor.”
 

She wagged her fingers. For some odd reason, Iron lifted his chin and kissed her hand. “My name’s Iron.”

“No last name? You’re not really that poor, are you?”

He shook his head. “No last name and I really am.”

“Of course a prince would never wash up on these shores. Just my luck to be charged with saving the lowest rung of society’s ladder. You really should think up a last name for yourself. People without them never get invited to the nice parties.”

“You are…odd.” He just didn’t know what else to say. Not even Sander ever left him so speechless.
 

“So says the boy named after a metal.” Nephele huffed and came to her feet. She dusted off the knuckles he kissed and hummed her way into the cave. A moment later, she returned with a broken half of an odd fruit in one hand and a fistful of nuts and berries in the other.
 

She placed both before him and retook her seat. “I do miss a good cooked fowl. Honey glazed, roasted on a spit, seasoned with salt and just a hint of paprika.” Her nostrils swelled as her nose tested the air for her imagination’s desire. She pouted when reality answered her with the odor of wet stone and jungle. “Maybe now that I’ve got you around, you can catch me some? I’ve seen birds I think are fowl, but bless the Lover if I’d ever actually be able to catch one. I’m too pretty to hunt, you see. You though? You might be able to do the trick. They’re not so quick looking and quite remind me of an Athe peacock, which are very slow birds indeed.”

Iron gathered enough strength to sit beside her. He grabbed the large fruit. It had a hard shell coated in something like burlap and a soft, milky inside that smelled oddly sweet. The pulp squished between his fingers; he sniffed the scent and shrugged, gently taking a bite.

Thick like honey with a watering hint of sweetness, the fruit coated his throat in blessed, salt less moisture. He smiled and leaned against the rock. “It’s good.”

“They’re coconuts, I think. I went to the most amazing feast once that was themed for the tropics. They had these cut for every guest, but those had been soaked in an aged Hinean peach liquor. It was wonderful, Iron, simply wonderful. I don’t doubt it brought me closer to divinity. I could have touched the Six themselves that night.”

“I doubt it brought you closer to divinity.” He took another scoop of the coconut, and a line of moisture dribbled down his chin. “More like it just made you drunk.”

Nephele gasped and gave him the look of someone truly offended. “You are speaking to a Catrona. We don’t become drunk. We become
divine
. Many an honored guest has given up their seat just for the pleasure my company brings.”

Another quip came to him, but he held it back. She did save him, after all. “Thank you, Nephele. I owe you my life.”