Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [81]
“We needed you there as well,” he said. “It was remarkable the way you understood the unicorn.”
She smiled. “When something like that happens, it surprises me that no one else can hear – the message was so plain! It was like the desecration of the ground under that building – I could sense the evil there, and it surprised me that you didn’t see it.”
“Robyn,” the prince began, awkwardly. He turned to the maiden and reached out for her. Her eyes met his, and she deliberately leaned into him so that their lips met. There was nothing tentative about their kiss. It was as if each moment of their separate lives had been racing toward this moment. He pulled her to him, his blood pounding at the feel of her body against him. She met him eagerly, and for a moment their nerves and muscles and bones melted into each other… Then Robyn gently pushed Tristan away.
“When we get back home” the prince started to speak in a rush, “I want to – I mean, will you -”
“No.”
The simple word brought him up short. For a moment, jealousy surged through him again. “What! Is it because of Daryth?”
“Don’t be a child,” she rebuked him. “It isn’t – at least, not that I know of. He means a lot to me – he is a good friend. And so are you.”
The classification, as a ‘good friend,’ came like a bucket of ice water poured over Tristan. He turned away, not knowing whether to cry out in rage, or to sob in despair. After a second, he turned back.
“I want you to know that I love you.”
She smiled, her eyes moist, and kissed him quickly again. Then she turned and walked slowly back to the fire, leaving him standing in the forest that seemed, suddenly, to grow very cold.
*****
Pain wracked the giant body. Grayness clouded its vision, and it was not the grayness of the darkened sea. Its great muscles flexed violently, then relaxed. Slowly it sank, knowing only that burning pain.
And then the pain disappeared, leaving behind a warm, comfortable glow. Grayness became bright, and the arms of the goddess beckoned.
Thus the leviathan died.
*****
More than a hundred longships had been scattered across the steel-gray Sea of Moonshae. Splinters of wood, survivors, and bodies all bobbed in the cold waters. Many of the remaining longships wallowed low in the water, nearly foundering, or they listed to the side with damaged hulls. The battle was won, but not without cost.
A low rumbling sound bubbled from the depths, and the water around the center of the fleet churned, steamed, and frothed. Then gouts of fire erupted from the depths. Two dozen ships vanished immediately and twenty-foot waves rolled across an equal number, swamping or capsizing them.
The sea boiled for many minutes. When the roaring finally subsided, the surviving vessels regrouped slowly, delayed by broken masts, missing oars, and torn sails. Finally, the vessels limped toward the nearest shore.
*****
The goddess feared that her pain would drive her mad. An aching despair grew inside her. Even through the curtain of her grief, she recoiled in terrible awareness of the increased power of the Beast.
The stabbing sore of the Darkwell inflamed her skin, sending poisonous tendrils crawling throughout her being. The passing of the leviathan unleashed potent venom from the black pool, and the Balance shifted dangerously. The numbness – the urge to sleep – penetrated the goddess more deeply than ever.
Suddenly she felt very tired.
*****
Roaring flames rose high into the sky as the cantrev burned. Wails rose from the pyre in a hopeless, keening chorus of death. Ringed around the little community, and with bloodstained spears prodding back into the flames any villagers attempting to save themselves, the Bloodriders observed the carnage.
Strangely motionless, they stared into the fire as if mesmerized. The hellish glow reflected from their crimson cloaks, and seemed to glow unnaturally in the eyes of the bloody Riders and their black, shining horses.
And all at once the fire surged upward, and the Bloodriders raised their voices in a throaty chant. The words seemed meaningless,