Chapter 127: Nereida’s Voyage
She awoke in a tangle of limbs, hair and unfamiliar, scratchy blankets. It was dark except for gently burning coals in a nearby hearth. The bed beneath them was a simple straw mattress.
“Ner?” Aella whispered sleepily. Nereida curled into her wife and laughed, then sobbed. Aella’s arms held her tightly.
“I don’t remember how we got here,” Nereida whispered. “I just… I know…”
“Sh, love. It’s alright.” Aella kissed her head. “I remember a little. We had to make a bargain, and the price seemed rather low. Shite bargainers, these dragons.” That startled another laugh out of Nereida, and she buried her face in Aella’s shoulder, laugh-crying until she was spent. Aella’s arms never wavered in their strength, and Nereida almost let herself fall back asleep in the warmth.
“You awake?” called a vaguely familiar voice though a nearby door. It took her a moment to place it. The voice, rougher now than when she had last heard it, belonged to Basiano! Nereida looked around, taking stock of where they were. Someone’s home, given the bed, table and drawers. There was a small cooking stove nearby, a washing basin, and someone had left fruit and bread on the table. There were no windows, but the hearth and stove were both funneled upward into the ceiling.
“Yes,” she said.
“Are you… decent?” He hesitated on the last word, almost choking on it, and Aella was the one laughing now.
“No,” Nereida admitted.
“When you are,” Basiano said, after a long moment, his voice sounding slightly strangled, “we need to talk.” Ah, there was the other shoe. No one said that unless they had bad news to impart. “Admiral too, if you don’t mind.”
She went poking around in the drawers and found simple robes. They were meant for someone taller and broader of shoulder, but they had plenty of belts and sashes, and so she was able to rig up an outfit that would do. The robes clung to her and tangled about her legs, too much fabric to be comfortable. Aella, with her thinner frame, seemed to be swimming in her robe. The fabric was warm, but almost too warm.
The walls were all carved stone, with the occasional beam for what Nereida assumed was support. There were no windows, and the air was hot and dry. She could feel her magic, but it felt far away. Fear that the ceiling would collapse and kill them all burned in her, and she had to shake her head. They were safe, they weren’t prisoners… right? My magic was gone, but not my venom. They were safe… They had to be.
Basiano was in the hall waiting for them. He held a small candle, and the shadows danced across his face, making him look older, almost haunted. Nereida threw herself at her brother, and he gasped in pain. She broke out of her embrace quickly.
They were soon at another similarly sized room. Calen was on a sleep sack on the floor, staring into the fire, a haunted, sad look on his face. Nereida rushed to him, guilt overwhelming her good senses.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He looked up at her, his eyes still red from crying.
“Would it have been a bad way to go?” he asked, his voice rough and shaking.
“The venom… it makes people feel things more deeply, makes them…” she hesitated, and looked away, unable to bear looking at his grief. “It feels good, very good, and then they slip away and die.” She didn’t want to explain more, but he took her words and then took her hand. They sat like that for a long time, neither wanting to speak.
Nereida looked for her wife, but Aella was speaking to Basiano in whispered tones. More secrets. Nereida felt her heart lurch uncomfortably, and the anger rolled back in on waves. She needed to clear the air with her wife. But as long as their world was on fire she could not stop, she could not talk. She just had to keep swimming through their problems and hope that she still could tread water by the end.
The clergy arrived, wrapped up in heavy cloaks. There were four men, all bald and clean-shaven, all broad shouldered with wide stances. Nereida watched anxiously. The clergy were the ones who kept the faith, keepers of old lore and ancient secrets that dwelled in the volcano where the Dragon of Stars was said to have left his body.
“It is time,” Aella said, her voice firm. It took only a moment for Nereida to realize it wasn’t her wife speaking, but the dragon of the Moon. Her heart fluttered anxiously. What did the priests know? Would they let the Stars’ old enemy into their sacred place? “Lead on, Children of the Stars.” Nereida followed the strange procession out of the small room and into the halls. A monk took point, the other three hanging back to keep weary eyes on Aella. The Dragons walked together, neither looking at the other, the air between them tense. Basiano’s gait was slower than usual, and he stumbled more than once. Each time, Aella was there to catch him, as if she knew it would happen before it did. Nereida followed at the back, watching it all as they headed down the hot, stone corridor.
They descended, heading deeper into the mountain. The monks shed their outer robes, leaving them in a pile at one of the support pillars. Nereida and the others did the same. The air was dry, hot and had a strange smell to it, like eggs that had turned. A wave of exhaustion washed over Nereida, and her steps slowed. There was too much heat, too much fire. She could not feel her magic, could not find any water except what was in their bodies. She could feel panic, panic that wasn’t hers, washing away her resolve. She wanted to flee the heat, the dryness. But then she looked up at Aella, at Basiano, at Caleb, and knew she couldn’t flee. They needed her. And so she put one foot in front of the other, each step taking her from discomfort into pain.
It was hard to think in the heat, hard to move, but she pushed forward, for her brother’s sake. Basiano had come across the known world to find her. She could endure this. She had to. The corridor opened up into a large cavern lit by lava flows far below. This is what heated the monk’s homes, this was the source of the strange smell. It was said that the volcano was the resting place of the Star Dragon, that it was here he had laid down his life, abandoned his body to become only a sleeping god. There were several altars here, all carved from volcanic rock, one for each season. Sitting on the altar marked with winter was a calcified eggshell, the size of her hand, still wrapped in the overdress Nereida had been wearing when she pocketed it. Something in Nereida stirred, the Ocean’s consciousness perhaps, and she knew without a doubt that the egg piece was the egg that Star and Shadow had both hatched from. Aella was staring at the eggshell as well, a haunted expression on her face. Nereida tried to get closer, so that she could see her wife’s eyes. But the heat was too intense, and she could not get past the archway. She could only watch helplessly. One of the monks saw her falter, and came to stand beside her.
“I can take you to the surface,” he offered quietly. “This is no place for you. There is water in your blood, not fire.”
“No,” she managed, though her throat was parched, and speaking hurt. “I need to be here.” He nodded, but looked sceptical. She straightened up, though the effort made her muscles scream. She’d show no more weakness to the clergy members.
Up at the altar, Aella reached forward to touch the shell. A voice rang out, light and airy and definitely not Aella’s.
“This is the true shell.” With her words, wings erupted from her back, ruining the robe she wore. The monk next to Nereida let out a little gasp of awe, before he dropped to his knees. “Stars, if you can find the will to trust the mothers of your brother, I can save you. But only if your descendants wish it. Else you may pass completely from the world here, and there will be no more pain for you. You will die.” Aella turned toward Basiano, her expression steely. Nereida tried to cry out to her wife, but she could not find her voice. “Let him make his case, Scion. Give your voice to him one last time.”
“Fine,” her brother huffed, as if he were an adolescent. He even crossed his arms. There was a shift in his posture suddenly, and his face pinched as if he was in pain. “I am sorry, my scion, but I thought it would be the best way forward. War is coming. My brother’s chosen have never stopped. They will come and you must be ready. If I die, your people will no longer have fire in their blood. Please. Do not let me die.”
“What is the cost?” Caleb asked from his stretcher. He sounded strange, like he was in a tunnel. Nereida shook her head, trying to stay present. She couldn’t leave her brothers. Not now.
“I am dying,” the Star Dragon admitted. “I am too far gone to save myself without the help of my children. But… such magic would burn you up. Whoever helps me…. They will perish.”
“That’s why the Admiral brought me here,” Caleb muttered. “She’s saving the King.”
“Yes,” the Great Dragon inside of Aella said. Her tone was calm, aloof. “She knew one or the other would have to die for him to live.”
“No!” Basiano took the reins back from his dragon passenger. “Caleb no, you cannot! My brother will never forgive me!”
“Basi, our people need their king. It’s okay.”
“It is not.” Basiano limped over to Caleb, took his hand.
Nereida forced herself forward into the worsening heat. Basiano turned toward her, panic on his face.
“Choir,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking in the heat. She felt someone’s hands on her, and was pulled back and away, out of the massive chamber. The monk from before had pulled her out of the room. He thrust a waterskin into her hands and demanded that she drink. She did, her hands moving before she could think. As she swallowed the too-warm water, she had a fleeting worry about poison.
“Choir?” Caleb called. “What does she mean, Basi?”
“Sirens sing, we dance,” Basiano replied. His voice was gentle, but it carried in the great cavern. “And magic done together is greater than the sum of its parts.”
“Then we do this together?” Caleb asked, his voice full of worry. “If we fail, we BOTH die. Will it work, Great Dragon?” He glanced at Aella as he spoke, his tone respectful, hopeful, but also shaking from his underlying fear. Nereida wanted to go in, but the monk caught her arm. His grip was tight enough that he’d bruise her arm.
“No,” he said firmly. “No interference from the Ocean’s Waters in this sacred place.”
“They are my brothers!” She tried to wrench herself away, but he held fast, his expression darkening.
“Not any longer. Now they are Star’s children. If you try and enter again, I will carry you away. You don’t look as if you have fight left in you.” She looked him over. He was lean and muscular, a head and a half taller than her. The robes he had discarded had hidden his muscles. His face was set in a deep scowl. The air was too dry here, and there was precious little water to be sung to. She turned away from the monk, her anger burning inside, but he was right. She had nothing left to fight with.
Nereida watched Aella simply staring at her brothers. If the Great Dragon had given an answer, she had not heard. It was Basiano who suddenly laughed, a loud bark of a laugh.
“Of course you’ve never thought of working together, you are all so busy working on your own! You aren’t even working with your wife!” Aella’s fists closed at her sides, and there was a brief moment that Nereida feared the Dragon would force her wife’s form to change further. Basiano turned away from the Great Dragon of the Moon, and took his brother-in-law’s hand.
“Together.”
They began a slow dance, going through forms that Nereida knew were part of the training to wield fire. It was beautiful, and she wanted to sing to them, give them music that could help, but her throat was parched. Caleb’s motions were beautiful, and his face was still stained with tear tracks. He seemed to be pouring all his emotion into the dance. Basiano leaned too heavily on his left leg, his right leg still weak and damaged. His face revealed fury and grief in equal measures. They stepped in three-quarters time, like a waltz.
“Aella,” Nereida whispered. “Help them.” The monk grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She turned to glare at him, raising her head to sneer down as if he were beneath her. “You’d best hope that you haven’t left a mark on the arm of a princess, monk.”
“You are in a sacred place, Siren. You are the interloper here. Now be quiet.”
Nereida sank to the ground, the world tilting as if she were back on the ship in a storm. She watched from her position on the floor as both Caleb and Basiano burst into flame. The light and heat of it was bright, too bright. Nereida had to turn away, inching back even as the world rocked. The monk was suddenly atop her, shielding her with his body as flames exploded from the ritual room. Nereida struggled to stay conscious as the heat of the air burned her lungs with every breath. The roaring fire extinguished as quickly as it had come, and all was silent. The monk pulled himself to his feet, muttering apologies to her. She barely heard him. Instead, she tried to stand, tried to see her brother, her brother in-law, her wife or any of them.
A sleek, beautiful dragon of silver scales was perched on one of the altars. She slid down, moving with grace despite her huge size. She was twice the size of a horse, large enough to eat one of them if she chose. Instead she coiled herself around Nereida’s brothers, her large, snake-like tongue licking first Basiano, then Caleb. Something was on the ground between the two men. She nuzzled it with her massive maw, blowing up dust and ash as she did so. The monk beside Nereida whimpered.
“Oh hush,” she grumbled at the man. She wanted to scold him more, but it hurt too much to talk. Basiano and Caleb were both stirring, and the dragon looked up at the monk, beckoning him forward by curling her claw. He made a tiny little noise of fear before he managed to make himself move forward.
Of the two, Basiano managed to sit up first. His left side was heavily burned, and he cradled his left arm. His left hand had been burned to nothing. Her brother’s agony was clear on his face, and Nereida tried, unsuccessfully, to stand to get to him. Caleb’s right side was equally burned, and he, too, was down a hand.
“From their flesh and the blood of the mountain is crafted the new body for Stars,” declared the dragon, her voice rumbling. “He will be born anew, a fresh start, brother to humankind this time.” She looked down at Basiano and he trembled, though from fear or pain Nereida wasn’t sure. “Raise your brother well, Scions of Stars.” She brought her head over to Caleb, her eyes dark and steely. “Swear it, Scion, as you have been touched as well. Swear you will do better.”
“I s-swear,” Caleb eeked out, his voice hoarse and small.
“Do not seek out the Droplet to heal your wounds until you have met the waters of the Ocean, or I shall return and be cross. If you kill my wife’s Scion to heal yourselves, you will make of me an enemy.”
“Yes ma’am,” Basiano said softly. She snorted indelicately, pushing the lump between them toward Basiano. It was only then that Nereida realized what it was.
Caleb and Basiano had made an egg.
The large dragon fluttered up, and made her way toward Nereida.
“Get into some water before you die, Droplet,” her voice was kind now, almost motherly. She licked Nereida’s face with her serpentine tongue. “Put yourself in a bath and you may have your wife back. Or be stubborn, and I will fly you to the ocean myself.”
“I’m going,” Nereida managed to say. But her body refused to listen. The dragon made a noise that was distinctly unimpressed. She used her snout to push Nereida up to a stand. Her snout was almost hot to the touch. Once she was standing, Nereida leaned against the carved stone wall, and slowly made her way toward the apartments, where she could rest.
“Go home,” the dragon called after her. “Our daughter has been without her mothers for too long.” Nereida did not spare any energy to answer, she just plodded along, one foot in front of the other, until the air was cooler and she could -finally- breathe.