Chapter 126: Nereida’s Voyage
Returning down the mountain to Caleb’s parents’ lands took less time than climbing had. Still, the wind seemed fiercer, the cold seemed colder. Every time Nereida glanced at the sword that Mira carried, her blood ran cold. It had hurt to touch, had left a mark not unlike a burn, though it felt cold. Mira carried the blade openly, her eyes drawn to it any time they stopped to rest. She prayed to the damn thing. But the dark metal of the blade felt like it was sucking the light from the sky. Aella, too, was wary near the blade, near Mira, and she kept herself between Mira and Nereida, as if she expected the other woman would strike her at any moment.
But while they walked, Mira chatted about easy things, about her life in her parents’ home. They had much to reckon with, Nereida mused, as the young woman revealed, through her stories of things that had happened lately, that she was, functionally acting as the butler to her parents, controlling their house without recognition… simply because her parents incorrectly believed that she was powerless.
“Why hide it?” Nereida asked as Caleb built a fire for them. They would likely reach the manor tomorrow, but none of them were in shape to push on through the night.
“The Air-Among-the-Fires are blessed, but our task has always been one that requires secrecy and silence. I can’t imagine you’d understand.” Mira did not look at any of them as she spoke, but instead she looked at the sword as if it were a long-lost love. Watching her made Nereida’s skin prickle. “Do not worry, Princess, I know my task. The King will soon be free.” Aella made a discontented sound, but she did not press.
That was the worst night. No one spoke, the stories had all died, and the worry of what was to come lay on them all like chains. Aella held her hand, a steady, unspeaking presence. They had so much, still, to talk about, but her anger was ebbing away in Aella’s steady presence as she continued to simply be Nereida’s shadow and protector.
By the next noon, they were in the manor house. Mira brought them in through one of the servant corridors. Unlike the palace, these halls were dingy, dark and dusty. No one showed any pride in where only servants moved. Nereida glanced up at Mira who led them silently through the halls. Not just servants, she realized, clenching her fist. Nereida wondered if exile would be better than living in the shadow of your own life, of what could have been, of what should have been. Mira and Caleb did not hug, did not banter or bicker. They just… existed… near each other. It was heartwrenching to see.
No one was in Caleb’s room when they arrived, but there were dirty boot prints in his antechamber, and tools near Basiano’s crystalline prison. The crystal did not seem to even be scratched, much to Nereida’s relief.
“Soon,” she promised her brother, touching the crystal. She turned toward Mira. “Do you know what to do?”
“I do.” Her voice was steady and even as she looked at the crystal. “You should go, Caleb.”
“I’m staying,” he replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. “He is my brother-in-law.” Mira looked at him, something like jealousy playing across her face before she set her expression back into the neutral mask she would have learned at court. Servants were not allowed opinions, after all. It would be dangerous for her to let her thoughts seep onto her face.
“Do you have the skill to cut the dragon essence from him without killing him?” Aella asked, her voice low and suspicious. Mira scoffed.
“Of course I have the skill.” She smiled at Nereida, a kind, sad expression. “For the king, I can do it. But not for you.” And she stepped forward, shrieking a terrible high note that sent Aella tumbling back in a gust of wind as she brought the sword down towards Nereida’s middle. Nerieda threw herself back, trying to get out of the way. Caleb was suddenly at her side, the sword striking his left hand and arm. She screeched an unholy sound.
“Brother, no! She’s corrupted!” She gestured at Nereida’s leg, the scales of it were visible around the top of her stocking. Caleb looked down at her, then back at his sister.
“Mira,” he began.
“No! Listen to me. The gods want to make us their playthings again. This sword is the only thing that a mortal can use to level the field! She’s just a tool now. I will be merciful, and end her suffering, but you must let me.”
The screeching and screaming had brought guards and the nobles. No one came closer than the antechamber, however, as if they were waiting to see which side would win. Aella rose to her feet and tried to get to Nereida’s side.
“Seize her!” yelled Mira. “She’s here to kill the king!”
“She’s not!” Caleb cried, but the damage was done, and the five guards beset Aella. Nereida pushed herself closer to Basiano, and she tried to sing, only to remember her magic was bound in the crystal. From the pleased, cat-like smile on Mira’s face, she knew that Nereida was powerless. Aella was giving the guards endless trouble, and had downed one, but she was still outnumbered four to one. She was also trying not to kill them, but if they kept pressing her, Nereida knew Aella would start killing.
Caleb kept his body between Mira and Nereida, kept trying to talk sense into his sister, but she was not listening, was beyond listening.
“If you will not step aside, brother, I will run you through.” Her tone was hard, her eyes narrowed and the sword was raised into a striking position. Then, Mira spun suddenly, feigning her attack toward Basiano. Caleb tackled his sister, wrestling the sword away.
“Enough!” he thundered, holding the sword toward Mira. The guards, the three that still stood, also stopped. “Mira, you cannot kill the Princess!”
“She’s not the princess any more! She’s an abomination!”
The whole room seemed to be watching them. Mira’s shoulders slumped.
“Don’t embarrass us, girl,” Lord Eduardo demanded. She looked up, her face full of hatred and pain that had been buried for years. Slowly, she stood, bowing to her parents with stiff, formal motions. Her hands slid into her sleeve, the motion catching Nereida’s eyes, but she did not process what was happening until Mira screeched again, throwing everyone back with uncontrolled, unrefined wind magic. She leapt at Nereida and they both went tumbling to the ground, a tangle of skirts and limbs. Mira’s elbow hit her hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Nereida scratched at her assailant, trying to gain a moment to breathe, to think. A hand clamped over her mouth, strong and calloused from years of work. Nereida felt the rising panic, and she bit down, hard, trying to free herself. She tasted blood, and only realized it was Mira’s when the girl pulled away.
More hands were on her, pulling her up, pulling her away. Mira was weeping, begging Nereida for something but she could not understand what Mira needed, wanted, through her sobs.
“Love,” Aella’s voice cut through the din, and Nereida realized she was shaking. She fell back into Aella’s arms. She did not allow herself to sob. Across the room, Mira was being held back by guards, but she had gone strangely limp in their arms, her eyes wide and her face pale.
“Take her to her chambers, see to her wound,” Eduardo commanded. “Then see to your companions.” Nereida focused on her breathing, her rushing, pounding heart. There was a flurry of motion as guards and Mira left, and Caleb moved to speak to his parents in hushed tones. They moved into the hallway, but Caleb did not follow them. Instead, he slammed the door shut, still holding the black sword in his hand.
For one terrible moment, Nereida worried that Caleb would turn the sword on her too. Instead, he slowly put the sword on the table, his whole body shaking with the effort.
“That thing is filled with power, and it sings for blood,” he said softly. He dropped into a chair, breathing hard. “No wonder she went mad… I… I need to talk to one of your dragons.”
“What? What in the five hells for?” Aella pulled Nereida closer to her, holding her tight.
“The sword sings the same thing over and over. It wants to kill dragons, and render their blood inert. I… does that mean what I think it does?” He looked up at Basiano in his prison of crystal, grief and pain on his face. “If I kill the dragon to save my king, will we all be powerless?”
Nereida looked over at Aella. Her wife’s mouth was set in a thin, hard line.
“I think I can let mine out, boy, if you can promise me you’ll keep Ner safe.” Nereida blinked at her wife, completely taken aback.
“I swear, Admiral,” he replied, saluting crisply. A faint, almost smile played on Aella’s face. She gave Nereida a gentle kiss on her head. She didn’t whisper goodbye, didn’t make empty promises, just walked over to Basiano and placed her hand on him. Nereida watched as the crystal shimmered at her touch. Great silver, scaled wings erupted from Aella’s back. She did not scream, did not even seem to notice. Her long, slender fingers were covered in fine scales too, but then the changes seemed to stop.
The Dragon of the Moon looked out of Aella’s face when she turned around. Her silver, almost cat-like eyes looked them over as she blinked lazily. Caleb dropped to a knee, his head bowed. She made a grumbling laugh in her throat.
“You have something to ask, boy?” The way she said “boy” carried all the derision Aella normally used, and Nereida’s heart clenched. Did she know all that Aella did? Were the walls between dragon and human host falling?
“Your Grace, I beg of you, is there another way to save Basiano that will not doom my people to have their powers stripped? I would give my own, give up my place at court to save him. But I cannot do that to everyone that I care for!”
“It would not be everyone,” the dragon replied with a yawn. “The Ocean’s Scion would keep her powers, as would her children.”
“Please,” Caleb lowered himself further, putting his head to the floor and his arms were thrust forward in supplication.
“A scalpel and a knife are the same tool, boy.” She came forward and took Nereida’s hand. The siren felt a wave of power from her wife, and Nereida almost gave in to it. Almost. She fought to stay strong, to stay herself. This, strangely, seemed to please the Moon, and she hummed a little, giving Nereida a smile. “He is dense. Reflect, little Droplet, and perhaps he will understand.”
“A surgeon can use a knife to heal, with the right intention and training. Cutting to save. I… I think she is saying intention matters.” Nereida did not enjoy how her voice shook. She squeezed Aella’s hand, hoping that her wife felt it. “Moon, can it be done?”
“Of course it can be done. You brought the shell, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then these are my terms: now, before we do anything else, you, boy, take the sword and cut your King-to-Be. A small cut, on his left thigh, not too deeply. It will weaken them both, but mostly the Stars will feel it. Then, Droplet, you will let my wife out. We will each carry a man to the Resting Place of Stars. We will leave the men in the presence of the priests who worship him still, and you will let my wife and I have a night. You will remember none of it. My Scion has already agreed to these terms. When morning arrives, we shall proceed to the inner sanctum, and I shall again take this form, and guide the Dance of Rebirth. You will give the Stars a new life, a return to infancy, to innocence, a second chance where he will remember none of his crimes. Or, should you refuse my aid, you will be on your own.”
Caleb lifted his head a little, just enough to look up at Nereida, his eyes sad. He was leaving it to her.
“I consent,” Nereida said softly. “Whatever it takes to save my brother.”
“Then, rise, child of stars, and do what you must.” Caleb got to his feet and picked up the sword. He winced when he touched it.
“It will be silent once you cut him, but you must control it. Do not fall to it as the wind-touched did.” He nodded curtly, not daring to look their way as he marched toward Basiano. The crystal prison simply shattered into thousands of tiny ice crystals that melted as they touched stone, filling the room with bell-like twinkling before they were gone. Basiano took in a breath, as if to breathe fire like the Dragon of Stars from ancient stories. Caleb stabbed him before he could get enough air to call fire. Basiano bellowed in pain. Nereida took a shuddering breath as her magic flooded back to her, nearly stealing her senses.
“Basi,” she managed, before she dropped to her knees.
“We must flee now,” the Moon advised, her tone no longer lazy. “I am sorry for your loss,” she added, looking to Caleb. He blinked at her, not understanding. Nereida felt her body begin to change, felt the magnificent presence of the Ocean, who held back, as if giving her a moment. Tears stung at her eyes as she realized why the Moon had said that. She felt bile rising in her throat, but she did what she had to, and addressed Caleb. He had to choose this, to come or not, and she couldn’t leave it out.
“My magic was gone,” she whispered. “But not my venom.” Horror dawned on Caleb’s face and he looked back at the door.
“You must choose, child of stars, to save a brother or mourn a sister.” The Moon Dragon was contorting Aella’s body into a more serpentine shape as she spoke. Caleb closed his eyes, a tear slipping out, but he stepped up beside Basiano and helped him to his feet.
Nereida stopped trying to keep her heart, her body and her mind. She let the power wash over her, drown her, so that she didn’t have to keep seeing the pain on her friend’s face. She could still taste the words like ash in her mouth. My magic was gone, but not my venom.