Rora sprinted down the street, breathing loud in her ears. Who was that? That man that looked like Oksay? He’d sounded angry – angry that she was in that building. Could that have been Oksay’s father?
She hurtled around a corner, and wondered if he was still behind her. Or if he’d chased her at all. She dared not look behind her and check. She hurtled further into the city, leaping over fallen timbers, weaving through the detritus that lay thick upon the ground after the storm. When her chest started to hurt from the exertion, she slowed, and looked over her shoulder. He was gone. Had he not followed her? Or had she just left him behind? She continued forward at a slower pace, glancing over her should every now and then to see if she was being followed. When he didn't reappear, she breathed a sigh of relief. She must have lost him. But her relief didn't last for long; she now had nowhere to stay. Nowhere except with Arasha, and something inside her still rebelled fiercely at the idea of putting her friend in that kind of situation. It would get Arasha in a lot of trouble – serious trouble, not the silly kind Arasha was so fond of. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. Her eyes landed on a small house, its windows blown out, the shutters on opposite sides of the street. The roof had caved in, and as she stared at it, she found a question trailing cold fingers slowly up her spine. Jusho. Jusho and the girls. Had their house survived? Were they all right? It wasn’t an answer to what she should do about her own situation, but it gave her a direction. Even if just for the moment. She turned her steps toward their home, though it was harder to find than she'd expected. The devastation made it harder to navigate - everything looked different when the usual landmarks had been blown off-kilter by wind and rain. But she found their street eventually, and came to a stop right before her brother's house. Debriss' flowers had all been torn to shreds, leaving nothing but the occasional bruised bloom, fragments of color scattered like confetti. The shutters had been torn off, but the house itself seemed intact. She stepped over a clothesline strung with muddy laundry, and walked up the path to the door. She hesitated once there; keeping in contact with her brother wasn't a good idea. It would get them in trouble. But she raised her hand to knock anyway. She had to make sure they were okay. She knocked, and the sound split the silence more loudly than she'd anticipated. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then she heard a stirring in the house. And then the door swung open. "Jusho!" she cried. "You're all right!" She threw herself into his arms. "We're all fine," he said, hugging her tightly. He held her out at arm’s length. "You found someplace safe," he said. Then he looked out over her shoulder, and a bleak look settled over his face. "It was bad." She nodded. She hadn't been frightened - not really. But she'd seen what the storm had done. People would be hurt - some might even have died. Like Arasha had warned. "What does it mean?" he asked quietly. "There haven't been any storms for longer than living memory." This wasn’t a question she had an answer to. A few weeks ago, he would have known that, but now he seemed almost to expect an answer. For her to know. Movement in the darkness of the house behind her brother drew Rora's attention. Debriss, her dark hair wild, was staring through the door. Sensing Rora’s distraction, Jusho turned. "The seas are sinking," Debriss said. Her voice sounded hollow, and she seemed not to see Rora at all as she stared toward the street. "The storms are back. Shuusha, goddess of the sea, has remembered us." She smiled, and Rora inched slightly backward. There was a strange edge to that smile, as if her sister-in-law wasn’t quite sane. "Debriss?" Jusho asked cautiously. "Are you all right?" This seemed to snap her out of it, and she blinked. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, sounding abruptly like her old self. She turned her eyes on Rora, and frowned. "You shouldn't be here," she said. "No," Rora said quietly. "I shouldn't be. Have you heard from Father?" she asked Jusho. "He's fine," Jusho said. "He stopped by early this morning, as soon as the storm stopped. He went to go check his boat." "Good," Rora said. She stared at her brother for a long moment. "I should go," she said. "Debriss is right. I don't want to get you in trouble." She turned to leave. "Rora." She paused, and looked back at her brother. "I'm glad you're all right." She forced a smile, and then left. Her family loved her, but there was very little - if anything - they could do to help her now. Her next stop was Arasha's apartment. She wasn't surprised to find this part of the city more devastated than the rest; the storm had hit here, first, and it had hit hardest. But the buildings appeared to all be standing, though Rora's sandals crunched over broken glass from shattered windows as she approached Arasha's building. People had started to venture out, to assess the damage, to try and rebuild things that had never been broken. She saw one elderly priest with a broom in his hand, staring at the street with its mound of debris. She could almost see the overwhelm running through his head. How was it ever going to be clean again? Was it even possible? Rora let herself into Arasha's building, and knocked on her friend's door - which flung open almost immediately. Arasha's hair was almost as wild as Debriss' had been, and crackled with static. When she saw Rora, she slumped in relief. "You were supposed to come back before the storm hit!" she accused. She grabbed Rora's arm and tugged her into the apartment. Her touch zapped Rora, and she flinched.
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As weeks passed into months, and Traggen’s health deteriorated, he watched. And he waited. Shuusha seemed unaware of his discovery, or his suspicions. She tended him as carefully as she had before, so tenderly and thoughtfully that his determination to keep his plan a secret wavered.
But he planned what to do when the time came, and laid it all out with the priest. Shuusha did seem to notice how close he had grown to the priest, but she said nothing of it. When the day finally came, and Traggen knew he was going to die, they put their plan into motion. He said something to his wife that he knew would send her into a rage, and sent her from his rooms. She left, and while she was gone, he began the process of abandoning his physical body. It wasn’t a painful process, but it did make him feel unmoored as he drifted. His human body died in the sickbed, and the faint spirit that remained of the god of the earth fled. His holy place, the highest mountain, where there was a shrine to him, was his goal. He would rest there, send what was left of him into a deep sleep. When he reached the shrine, he folded himself as small as he would go, and allowed the exhaustion to carry him away. He would wake when his powers had returned, when he was strong enough to again take a body. Until then, he would sleep. ~*~ So that’s why you didn’t answer any prayers, Oksay said. You couldn’t. You were asleep… There is more, the god said. The pain in his thoughts grew sharper, clearer. Allow me to show you the moment when I realized exactly what she had done… ~*~ Traggen dreamed. He dreamed of a child, as yet unborn. The divine spirit clenched his shapeless hands, and the child mimicked the motion. When the darkness of the womb was replaced by the startling brightness of birth, sleep again took him. It wasn’t yet time. A body was growing, the human fragments of his mind waiting for his arrival. But not yet. Not yet… He was only dimly aware that the time was close. Like a faint thought, there and then gone like a wisp of smoke. All he could sense was the occasional flash from his human body as it grew and changed. And even then, only the vaguest sensations; a flash of emotional pain, a surprising injury. He didn’t know what had caused them, but that would come clear when he reclaimed his body, and all the memories it had collected. When it was time. But when the body reached adulthood, Traggen still slept. He did not awaken. He could not call for the other pieces of himself to come to the shrine. And so he slipped again into nothing. Until the moment that Oksay’s teeth broke the flesh of the apple that grew in the shrine, and Traggen awakened with a roar. He had little control of himself after so long, and rushed into the available mind with such speed that its original occupant lost consciousness. He opened his eyes to see the ruin of the shrine around him, and the sky above. But the earth was gone. He could sense nothing – the only dry land on the entire world was the spit on which he stood. Shuusha, the goddess of the sea and his wife, had covered the world in her oceans. She ruled the world, and the priest’s words returned to Traggen’s mind as if they had been spoken only the day before. She wants power over the whole earth. She has told me so. She planned to poison you, and then convince you to go into hibernation to heal. But instead of allowing you to heal and restore your divinity, she will continue to poison the earth. His power returned in waves, and told him that he could destroy everything she had built. Make himself known, and begin the war that would wreak havoc and destruction on the whole world. But the pain in his chest and belly, the cutting wound of betrayal, of the knowledge that the woman he’d thought his equal had turned against him, instead sent him searching for a safe place. A place to hide, to regroup, and to decide what to do. War could wait. Facing his wife could wait. He needed time to recover from the shock that, in spite of the centuries he knew had elapsed was still fresh. ~*~ Oksay could think of nothing to say. No wonder Traggen didn’t want to trust Rora, or any of the Shuushan. His thoughts flickered over what he knew of the floating city, and he knew that Traggen had already seen it. He’d seen that some of his worshipers had kept their faith, and he’d prepared a place for them. A place to live and be safe – and begin the process of starting a war? Why should I believe she will willingly cede power back to me? Traggen asked. You know the city better than I, and have seen what the world could be. Do you think your people better off without me? No, Oksay said. But still, something in him rebelled against the idea of challenging the Shuushan – of challenging Rora. More importantly, he knew the devastation a war between the earth and the sea would bring. These were no mere human armies, but the elements themselves. Always I have tried to protect the people, Traggen said. In order to do this, I need to retake what is mine. If that means war, then there will be war. The priest simply blinked at him for a moment, as if stunned. But then he bowed, and hurried away. His movements were urgent, strangely jerky.
Traggen rubbed at his temples as he waited for the priest’s return. He needed to know what this “proof” consisted of. He’d refused to consider the possibility his wife had betrayed him for too long. He would either rule it out, or accept that it had happened. One way or the other, it was time to deal with this. The priest returned, carrying a scroll. He handed it to Traggen, who unrolled it with fingers that tremored with his illness. “What is this?” Traggen asked as he scanned the document. “Shuusha sent money and support to companies around the world,” the priest said. “She has always done this,” Traggen said. “Every single one of them dumps poison into the earth in large amounts,” the priest said. “And the goddess continues to send them money.” Traggen’s skin went cold. There was more to this story – there had to be. “Get out,” Traggen said to the priest. The priest hesitated, surprised at the abrupt order, but only for a moment. He made for the door. “Send for Shuusha,” Traggen said as the priest walked through the door. The priest paused again, but then hurried to obey. What did it mean? Traggen peered at the long list the priest had given him, darting down the company and business names. Beside each name and location was a number, the amount of money that his wife had given them. A second number told him how much poison each had dumped into the earth. Surely there was an explanation. One that didn’t involve his wife trying to kill him. There was a flurry of activity at the door, and Shuusha burst in, looking frantic. “Are you all right?” she asked at once. “Has something gone wrong?” Traggen wondered if this was genuine concern over his welfare or not. Had the priest told her about the list in Traggen’s hand? Was she worried that she’d been caught? “I am as fine as I can be,” he answered. The concern on her face shifted to confusion. “Then what is it?” she asked. Traggen held up the list, and her eyes focused on it at once. Something flashed across her face, there and gone so quickly he couldn’t identify what it was. She went very still, staring at the list. “How did you get that?” she asked in a whisper. “It was brought to me by a servant,” he lied. There were no denials, no defenses. She was caught. Deep in his chest, something hot flickered to life. He was still god of the earth, and that meant that earthquakes had once answered his call. He was weak now, and they would not obey, but he could remember. The power was still there, a faint light of his divinity. “You are ill,” Shuusha said. “Allow me to worry about this.” She extended her hand for the scroll. Did she think he hadn’t realized what it was? The anger – for that was what it was – grew hotter. But instead of giving in to it, instead of slapping her hand away and demanding an explanation, he took a deep breath, and placed the scroll in her waiting palm. “I’m sorry this was brought to you,” she said. “I will take care of it.” Then she leaned forward, and kissed his forehead. She was pretending ignorance. She had to be. She knew what that was – there was no other explanation. But still, her reaction confused him. What was she trying to accomplish? What was her purpose? Traggen was only alone with his thoughts for a moment. The priest returned almost at once, a knowing expression on his face. “What will you do?” he asked. “Your plan to protect me is flawed,” Traggen said, ignoring the question. “She has herself suggested it, and volunteered to watch over me.” The priest opened his mouth, as if to respond, but then closed it again. He hadn’t known about that. Traggen hadn’t spoken of it before. “If she is trying to kill you, then that would only make it easier – put you directly in her power,” the priest said at last. “Precisely.” The priest hesitated for a long moment. “You could do it yourself,” he suggested finally. “Make her believe you are already dead, so that she believes she’s won. That would give you time to heal and recover without fear.” Traggen considered this for a moment. If he did that, and he recovered, then he could see what she had done in his absence. That, more than anything, should tell him what her goals had been. He could see what she would do without him there to keep her in check. He nodded slowly. “I would have to wait until the last possible moment,” he said. “I will help you,” the priest promised. Shuusha visited him as regularly as always, ensuring his care was the best available. She shouldered his burdens, making most decisions on her own, though she still brought the most important issues of his own kingdom to him. She seemed as energetic and powerful as always, as if the poison of the earth had no effect on her.
He thanked her for taking on many of his tasks, but the question planted in his mind wondered. His illness made it more difficult to think clearly, the pain clouded his thinking and slowed his mind. He was still relatively young – his body was not yet fifty years of age. And yet he could sense that his life was coming to an end. He would not see out the year, he knew. And that was when he sent for his wife. She arrived dressed in a shimmering blue gown dotted with iridescent pearls. Her body was fifteen years older than his, and yet she looked younger. More vibrant, more alive. How was that possible? Surely poisoning the earth would have some effect on the seas as well. “You asked for me?” she said. “Do you need anything? An inventor in the mainland is working on a chair with wheels – he thinks it may be ready in the next few weeks, and I’ve already put in an order. I thought you might like one, so we can take you to the fields.” “I’m not going to be reincarnated again,” he said bluntly. He watched her closely. She sank onto the edge of his bed, and her face crumpled slightly. “I wondered,” she said quietly. “You’ve been so ill. Is there anything that can be done? Anything at all? There must be something.” She didn’t seem surprised. “You are not shocked,” he observed. “Should I be?” she asked. “You’ve grown sicker in every lifetime. Your powers resist you – you do not complain, but I can see it.” It was obvious, he told himself. Everyone could have come to those conclusions – it wasn’t suggestive of a plan to kill him that she had guessed this much. It meant nothing. “You know of no way to prevent such a thing from happening?” he asked. She hesitated. “If I could stop what was happening to the earth, perhaps,” she said slowly. “But that…it would involve so much death and destruction.” She turned to meet his eyes. “Would you allow me to do that? To use my storms to destroy everything doing this to you?” He wavered. He knew that the companies throwing poison into the earth were numerous, and scattered across the kingdoms. They didn’t just exist in his own, but others as well. The spread of this poisonous science wasn’t limited only to his own people. And he didn’t have the time to ask her to track them down and destroy them one at a time. It would be a swathe of destruction, or nothing. He thought of his people, the ones who loved and trusted him. The ones he’d worked for so many years to protect. “No,” he said with a sigh. “Then I don’t know what else to do,” Shuusha said quietly. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. It was a servant, come with a list of questions for Shuusha. The goddess kissed Traggen on the forehead, and left to go see to things. Traggen closed his eyes. She would have known that he would not allow her to destroy the cities. Had that been a carefully plotted ploy to make him consider her innocent? Or had it been genuine? Had she truly hoped he would say yes? He needed to know. He needed to know for sure whether his wife was trying to kill him – how else could he possibly enjoy what were likely to be his last days? He could put himself into hibernation, as the priest had suggested, but even that would mean that he would be gone for an unknowable amount of time. Would he be aware? He didn’t think so. It would be the closest to death he had ever been. He needed more information. He sent for the priest, and when the man arrived, he said the words. “I want to see your so-called proof.” The priest refrained from questioning his goddess after that – at least in Traggen’s presence - but his words were not forgotten.
As Traggen’s illness worsened, he realized that one thing the priest had said was true: if he didn’t do something, then he wasn’t going to be able to reincarnate again. His human body was bedridden, and as the pain grew worse over the following years, he found he could feel the waning of his power. As the earth sickened, so did he. He could no longer command earthquakes, or cause plants to grow at his command. Things that had once been easy now resisted him, when he could do them at all. He could no longer afford to ignore the problem on the day when he saw the first gray hair appear on his head. His time was running out, and if he did nothing, then, as Shuusha’s priest had said, he would be gone. Forever. He refused to believe that Shuusha was behind the poisoning. She was his wife, and had been for centuries. She was flighty, and they often disagreed on matters of state, but she wasn’t evil, and seemed to truly love him. But the priest had been right about other things. So Traggen sent for him, and reclined in his bed as he awaited his arrival. The door opened to reveal the priest, who bowed suitably low as he waited for Traggen to motion him inside the room. When he did so, Traggen waved for him to close the door. “You were correct,” Traggen said. “I am dying, and something must be done.” “The goddess-“ “No,” Traggen interrupted. “Do not accuse my wife of this treachery. Ever again. Do you understand? I asked you here to offer me suggestions to solve this problem. No more, no less.” “Yes, your majesty,” the priest said, inclining his head. Traggen could see the reluctance in the man’s posture. “Suggestions?” Traggen prompted. “In the cities there is a new method of assisting those who have been badly injured,” the priest said. “Those who ought to die. They are put into a deep sleep, lessening the strain on their bodies, and allowing it to live as it focuses on healing.” “A coma,” Traggen said, recognizing the description. “Yes,” the priest said. “If you unshackled yourself from your human body, and sent your divine presence into a coma, to wait for the earth to heal, then perhaps…” “Hibernation,” Traggen corrected. “Not a coma. Not for me, not without a body.” “Of course,” the priest said. Traggen mulled this over for a moment. “And if the earth grows sicker in my…absence?” he asked at last. “I do not know, your majesty.” Traggen sighed, and waved his dismissal. The priest bowed once more, and turned to leave, but before he exited the room, turned to look over his shoulder. “You have forbidden me to speak of this,” the priest said. “But I have found proof of my suspicions. I will wait for your summons, should you change your mind.” And then he left. Traggen slumped back on his pillows, and closed his eyes. He really should have gotten rid of the priest the first time he spoke against Shuusha. If the man wasn’t serving her wholeheartedly, then he shouldn’t be high priest. But the thought of actually doing such a thing exhausted him. The paperwork, the explanations… …and there was a tiny prickle of suspicion that had never truly gone away, lingering in the back of his mind. Could he trust his wife? He’d always worried that she was, perhaps, unreliable. Could it possibly be that the priest was right? He gave himself a violent shake. No. He would not believe that. This proof the priest supposedly had would not be proof at all. It would be nothing. It had to be nothing. He wasn’t strong enough for it to be real. He allowed himself to slip into a fitful sleep, but deep in his mind, the question began to grow. Traggen’s newest body was young; only twenty or so years old. And yet the pain didn’t stop. It was almost constant, a low, dull roar that made it hard to climb from bed in the morning. He couldn’t remember this being an issue before the blending took place.
“I can’t find anything wrong,” the healer said. He glanced from Traggen to Shuusha, a nervous flick of the eyes. She was older than him this time, his elder by fifteen years, so the healer was more familiar with her. And more frightened. “Either there is nothing wrong,” Shuusha said “or you have missed something.” Her voice was calm, but Traggen knew her well enough to know that this was nothing more than a veneer of control. She was angry about something. “It‘s fine,” Traggen said quickly. “The pain is not strong. It’s likely something with the body, and may go away with time.” He met his wife’s eyes, and there was a moment where he wasn’t sure if she was going to acquiesce to his unspoken request or not. When she averted her eyes, he knew she had allowed him to win. This time. He dismissed the healer, who breathed a sigh of relief as he hurried from the tiny exam room. “This has never happened before,” Shuusha said. “Has it?” “No,” he replied, watching as she began to pace the room like a trapped tiger. There wasn’t much difference between the two, he thought fondly. “But that doesn’t mean anything is terribly wrong.” “I don’t like it,” she said. “Neither do I,” he said. “But I can manage one lifetime.” Except it hadn’t been one lifetime. The pain stretched out over ten, growing worse with every life he lived. Nearly a thousand years of pain every day, growing only worse, not better. ~*~ The memories turned into brief flashes, and Oksay saw ten different bodies, each holding Traggen’s mind, live and die. He could feel the pain, growing toward a crescendo. How? He wondered. How had Traggen managed it? A thousand years of pain. Horrible, screaming pain, growing worse with every lifetime. The answer came slowly, though it was obvious when he thought of it: Traggen was the earth. Slow, steady, predictable. Unmovable and patient. But even as the god of the earth moved through his lives with a sort of indomitability, Oksay could see the pain bowing him down. The flicker of memories slowed, and suddenly Oksay was in Traggen’s head again. ~*~ His legs refused to obey him. He sent the order for them to shift over the side of the bed, but they didn’t move. The smothering sensation of panic fell over his chest, and he tried again. And again. Finally, he used his hands and arms to shove his legs over the edge, and tried to stand up. He couldn’t do it. He paused at the edge of the bed, and found his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall opposite him. He was only forty years old – his hair had only just begun to turn gray. He looked strong, still. His skin was darkened by long days in the fields, in spite of the pain that meant it took him several hours to convince himself to leave bed in the morning. But now his legs had stopped working. He summoned a maid, and sent her for his wife’s high priest. His deteriorating health had forced him to leave his kingdom in the hands of his own high priest. He couldn’t afford for his own people to see him this way, and so had agreed when Shuusha suggested they build and live in a palace far away. A place where, he hoped, he would be able to heal. To finally get better. The high priest arrived, and paused in the doorway, staring down at his king. “I can’t stand up,” Traggen said. “My legs…” The high priest blinked, and his face creased in concern. “My lord,” he said. “I’m sorry.” “What am I to do now?” he asked. He was immortal – he’d lived thousands of lives. But never before had he felt so helpless. “I do not know,” the priest said. He knelt before Traggen, looking up and meeting his eyes. “I have meant to speak to you about this for some time,” the priest began, hesitant. “But…” Traggen’s mind latched onto these words at once. “What is it?” he asked. “Shuusha,” he said. Traggen sighed. “You are her high priest,” he said firmly. “Your worries are unfounded, and that you have any to begin with indicates you shouldn’t have been given that position in the first place.” “She knows,” the priest said urgently. “She knows what is doing this to you.” Traggen paused. His silence seemed to push the priest on. “You are being poisoned,” the priest said. “The earth itself is being poisoned by your people. I believe she planned this.” Traggen sighed, and rubbed at his forehead. “Shuusha has mentioned this to me,” he said at last. “That is her theory, at least. But we have no proof of this, and certainly not that she has done it on purpose.” “She wants power over the whole earth,” the priest insisted. “She has told me so. She planned to poison you, and then convince you to go into hibernation to heal. But instead of allowing you to heal and restore your divinity, she will continue to poison the earth. Your majesty, if this continues, you won’t be able to reincarnate into another body. You will die, well and truly. That is her aim. You mustn’t-“ “That is enough,” Traggen snapped. Traggen shifted, still warm and relaxed from sleep, and the blanket slipped from his shoulder. The slap of cooler air on his skin awakened him properly, and he opened his eyes.
The red-tinged gold light of dawn angled across the stone ceiling. It was early, he thought to himself. He rolled over, and the figure in bed beside him shifted. Shuusha had chosen a pale body in this lifetime, and her hair matched it, the light strands catching the dawn light. He almost didn’t see the strands of gray that threaded through it, slowly turning the golden hue of her hair silver. Her age was simply unimportant, and the signs of it even less so. He touched one loop of it gently with his index finger, and her eyes flickered open. He hadn’t meant to awaken her. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “Are you getting up?” she asked, groggy. “Yes,” he answered. “Sleep. You know you’ll be cranky later if you don’t.” She grinned sleepily at him, and her eyes drifted closed again. He smiled down at her as her breathing deepened, and he slipped from bed as quietly as he could, trying not to jostle her awake again. He stretched, and dressed swiftly in a simple brown tunic and worn work boots. They looked strange against the opulence of their royal bedchamber, and would not look less so as he walked through their palace. But he’d stopped caring about that long ago. He had work in the fields, and the clothing Shuusha normally insisted he wear would only get ruined. He slipped from the bedchamber, closing the door softly. “There you are,” came a familiar voice. He turned from the door to find Shuusha’s current high priestess standing in the antechamber, hands on hips, eyes narrowed to slits. The disapproval he’d heard in her voice made sense – he guessed she’d been looking everywhere for him. Again. He didn’t understand why she never looked in the obvious places. “Garro has been looking for you all morning,” she said. “He didn’t even think to check here. Why can’t you sleep in your own rooms like a normal man?” Traggen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Just because it’s the current fashion for husbands and wives to live in separate rooms doesn’t mean I’m required to accommodate it,” Traggen said. “But you have separate rooms,” the priestess protested. “Ask me how much I care,” Traggen said. “And where is Garro? I assume he’s looking for me because I told him I was helping in the fields this morning.” “He’s pouting in the kitchens,” the priestess said, waving vaguely that direction. “Then I will go to him,” Traggen said. “Don’t wake her,” he said over his shoulder. “She was out late last night.” And then he was out in the quiet halls of the palace. He strode down to the kitchens, where he found Garro looking morose. But his high priest perked up when he saw him, and they left for the fields together. Traggen loved working in the fields. Being close to the soil, watching things grow. He could make a plant grow to maturity in an instant, but the sight of something slowly unfurling leaves on its own brought a strange joy and peace that couldn’t be replicated. So wrapped up in the fields was he that he didn’t realize they’d been out all day until the sunset came, and the falling sun shone brilliant light directly into his eyes. He was turning to head back to the palace, standing on the edge of the field, when it happened. A sharp pain spiked in the vicinity of his stomach, taking his breath away, and leaving him bent double. It took him by surprise, and he gasped as he clapped a hand to his belly. His bodies had died of heart attacks before, along with other maladies. Sometimes it was his stomach. But this…this was different. The pain didn’t vanish, but lessened, lingering. “Your majesty?” Garro asked, nervously twisting his fingers. “Are you all right?” ~*~ The memory faded. What I didn’t know then was that at that exact moment, on the other side of the continent, a well-meaning company had dumped a barrel of an unknown substance into a dumping ground, Traggen said. They didn’t realize it was poison to the earth, and therefore to me. Shuusha had encouraged advances in production. You’ll remember that was something she mentioned at that first dinner in the argument over the chandelier. The people, eager to please her, experimented. That barrel of poison was the first of many. Oksay let this sink in for a moment. You think that she planned this, he said finally. You think that she planned for the people to poison you. Wouldn’t you? Traggen asked. These advances were her idea. Many were paid for by her. The company that dumped the first barrel – and many others after – had received a generous donation from our treasury, at her behest. Oksay paused. That couldn’t be true – could it? There is more, Traggen said. There is always more. Will you show me? Oksay asked. Questions danced in his mind, so many he couldn’t pick just one. Crowding each other out. He needed more information. You are me, Traggen said. These are your memories as much as they are mine. We are two beings now, but that is not how it is meant to be. If you wish to see our memories, then you must see them. This made Oksay uncomfortable in a way he didn’t expect. And he could sense, running beneath Traggen’s words, a desire to convince him. To persuade him of this truth, and so bring them back into harmony. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but the next memory drove it from his mind. “Do they travel in groups?” Traggen asked carefully.
“Family groups, yes,” Shuusha answered. “Right.” He looked up from the twisting forms of the sea dragons far below, and found Shuusha watching him closely. “I must admit I’m surprised,” she said. “You haven’t screamed, or asked to be taken back. You look rather pale, but otherwise seem fine.” He was trying very hard not to think about what could happen if he offended the goddess while he was in her power. All it would take would be for her to stop supporting his weight, and he would fall into the water with some of the fiercest predators known to mankind. He could defend himself, but that would be much more difficult in the water than on land, and he could only breathe beneath the surface if he had contact with solid ground. “It’s taking an effort,” he said dryly, again peering down at the dragons. “You manage it quite well,” she said. He thought that was likely the closest she was going to get to giving him a compliment, and nodded in acknowledgement. “We are going to make a short stop a few miles up the coast,” Shuusha said. “More snails?” he asked, trying, and failing, to sound casual. “No,” she said with a grin. “Pirates.” Oh. Oh. “Your pirates?” he asked. “Do you know of any others?” she asked. “No.” Well, that was…interesting. She’d promised he would arrive at his palace safely, but he hadn’t realized she’d planned to introduce him to her thieving compatriots. He wondered if she was taking his cues from him. He’d thrown her into a formal dinner party on the first night – was this her way of returning the favor? If so, he wished that he had shown better judgment. Pirates. Not ideal. And the sea dragons were still following them. He took a deep breath. He’d started this, he reminded himself. This was his idea, and he would see it through. He could defend himself if he needed to. Though he hoped he wouldn’t need to. He glanced toward Shuusha, who was smiling to herself as she watched the dragons below. He wondered how her ability to communicate with them worked, if they were asking her questions. If they were asking her questions about him. The wind and the strong scent of brine faded, and the sunlight turned dark. ~*~ At first, Oksay thought there was a storm, and the memory was about to turn dangerous. But then Traggen’s voice spoke. That is enough of that, he said. But what about the pirates? And the sea dragons? Did she ever say yes? What – Oksay was abruptly cut off by the strange feeling that Traggen had waved his hand. I am reminiscing, the god said. He sounded a little…ashamed of himself, Oksay thought in surprise. Traggen snorted as he sensed the direction of Oksay’s thoughts. I cannot afford to get caught up in my memories, the god explained. For now, all you need to know is that after several months she did, in fact, say yes. The woman mentioned in the reports as sometimes taking Shuusha’s place as the leader was her best friend and high priestess. We married, the pirates were absorbed into my kingdom and most became law-abiding citizens – eventually. It took many years before our marriage was properly accepted; three generations of men lived and died before our connection was considered simply a matter of course. The first decades were as difficult as anticipated; my hatred for capital punishment and her determination to keep and enforce it were one of our many disagreements on the governance of our combined people. A combined people, Oksay thought in wonder. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what that was like. For the Traggenese to be accepted and valued members of society, for the Shuushan not to turn their noses up at them in the market, to keep them out of public places… Yes, it was not always so, Traggen said. But it does not surprise me, nonetheless. His thoughts took an ugly turn, tinged with anger and, more deeply, a rumble of hurt. Let us move forward a few hundred years… The song of the sea dragons felt like a dream when Traggen awoke the next morning, stiff from sleeping on the ground. But it still echoed in his head, like a strange mystery he could never truly solve.
The morning was clear, and he guessed the day would be hot. Ideal for a dunking in icy seawater, he thought sourly. He had no doubt that Shuusha was planning to do such a thing at least once. But, he reasoned, if it was as hot as it seemed it would be, perhaps it wouldn’t be a hardship. He sat up, swallowing a groan. His neck and shoulders were stiff, too. His body had sorely missed his usual bedding. The fire had died completely, leaving black coals and a white dusting of ash. On the other side of the fire lay Shuusha, curled up like a cat. She still wore the gown she’d been wearing the day before, though it looked much worse for wear. There were tears in it that hadn’t been there before she’d gone to play with the sea dragons. Had they been rough? He could see no mark on her pale flesh, what little of it was exposed to the air. He wondered what games they had played, and if she could sing their songs, too. He didn’t realize he was staring at her until her eyes snapped open, and he was caught. He looked away hastily, hoping that perhaps she’d been too groggy to notice. “Sleep well?” he asked, not meeting her eyes. He heard the rustling sound of her dress as she sat up and stretched. “As well as I expected,” she said. “And you? Did the sea dragons disturb you?” “They didn’t disturb my sleep, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he answered. He paused. “You can feel a lot of emotion in their calls,” he said. “Yes,” she said. There was a sadness to her tone, and he turned to find her resting her pointed chin on her knees, staring at nothing. “You seem sad,” Traggen said. “I wonder, at times, if I spend too much time with humanity, and not enough in the sea.” “Why would you wonder that?” he asked, frowning. “The creatures that know me always seem to miss me,” she said. “As if I have been gone far too long. A loved one they haven’t seen for a very long time, who doesn’t make enough time to visit.” Traggen watched her for a moment before speaking. “You’re torn in ways that I’m not,” he said suddenly. “To be with the things and beings I rule, I don’t have to leave my human friends and subjects. You do.” She nodded. “Of all the people in my past, only I could breathe beneath the surface. Until you.” She lifted her chin from her knees, and her gaze turned sharp. “You could breathe beneath the water yesterday,” she said. “I watched for distress, but there was none.” “I can breathe beneath the water, so long as I have contact with earth or stone of some kind,” he explained. “It’s saved my life before.” She stared at him, for so long that he shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. “So, when are we going?” he asked, finally, to break the silence. “We can leave now, if you wish,” she said. She was suddenly remote, and didn’t seem to truly see him. Her eyes looked right through him, as if he was nothing more than a pane of glass. “Probably better to get back,” he said. “The sooner the better, if you plan to stop long enough to soak me.” This seemed to bring her back with a bump. She blinked, as if startled, and then laughed. “Yes, if I plan to soak you, we will need more time, won’t we?” Interesting, he thought. She could be jolted out of her moods. He wondered if he’d just gotten lucky, or if this was something he could use when she inevitably became angry again. Distraction, he thought. Like with a child. He would keep that to himself, though. He didn’t think she would appreciate being thought of as similar to a child. Traggen ensured the fire would not blaze up and start again while unattended, and then joined Shuusha at the cliff. As the day before, columns of water rose at her command, wrapping around his legs so he would not fall. But this time, they did not carry a tub of snails between them. Instead, Shuusha reached out, and took his hand. He focused on the contact a little too much as she laced her fingers through his. Her flesh was warm, but it was also damp from the water. A moment later, they moved out into open water. It was strange to look down at see the shifting surface of the ocean so far below. But he wasn’t alarmed until he saw the massive, serpentine shape of what he guessed was a sea dragon, swimming below them. “Are we being followed?” he asked with forced calm. “They are curious,” she said. “They have only ever seen me travel this way before. We are in no danger, though they will follow us for a time. I’ve warned them not to stay too long.” She turned to meet his eyes, and smiled. “Are you frightened?” she asked. “Not yet,” he answered. “Nerves, though. Nerves I will admit to.” He peered down at the sea dragon, and was alarmed to see it was no longer alone. Beside him, Shuusha laughed. The fire Traggen had started snapped and crackled, sending embers floating upward, where they illuminated the tree branches for a heartbeat before being extinguished. He was still cold, and damp, but he was drying off, and the warmth of his fire was slowly penetrating his chill flesh. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and had now left only vestiges of its light behind, dregs of gray streaked across the sky.
Shuusha stood at the very edge of the ring of firelight, her back to it as she looked out toward the sea. She had her head tipped to one side, as if listening, but all Traggen could hear was the crashing of waves, and the whistle of wind. “What are you doing?” Traggen asked in a low voice. She turned slightly so that he could see her profile. “Listening,” she replied serenely. “To what?” “The sea,” she replied. “Some distance out, where the water is deep, a pod of sea dragons has come to play with their young.” Traggen’s mouth went dry. “Sea dragons?” he asked. Mental images of destroyed ships flashed through his mind. “The kind that sink boats?” “They’re territorial,” Shuusha said. “If you cross that line without permission, then yes, they will sink your ships.” “They’re dangerous,” Traggen said. “Yes,” Shuusha agreed. “But they are also beautiful – and playing tag.” She laughed. “They don’t often come to waters as shallow as this; they’ve been drawn by my presence. Many have never seen me before, though they can hear my commands. They are curious.” “You speak as if they can think – like us,” Traggen said curiously. “They do not think like us,” Shuusha said. “But they are not dumb animals, either. You might compare dealing with them to dealing with a young child of three or four years. Capable of understanding a certain number of human words, and answering simple questions, but also unpredictable. The ones that have lived for a long time can sometimes communicate to me in images or feelings.” She paused, and turned back toward the sea. “They want me to come and play,” she said. She faced him and smiled widely. “I will return,” she promised. Then she turned and took a running leap off the cliff. Traggen turned back to the fire, shaking his head. If this mad plan of his worked, he’d be married to this woman. How often did she just…run off? And she’d gone to play with the most dangerous sea-dwelling predators his people knew of. He took a moment to be grateful that she hadn’t suggested he join her this time. He stared into the fire as its warmth washed slowly over him. He tipped another log into the blaze, and when the crackling had stopped, he heard a splashing sound. He went still, listening, but the splashing wasn’t repeated. It had sounded distant, not as if it was at the base of the cliff. Nothing to worry about. He was just relaxing again when another sound filled the air: an eerie, wordless song, echoing across the waves, clearly emanating from a throat that wasn’t human. Sea dragons could vocalize? The song went on for a few moments, and then faded into nothing, before starting again – and this time, there was more than one voice. At least three sea dragons, he guessed, singing some song he’d never heard before. He thought he could detect a wordless message running through it, pleased excitement, perhaps? It sounded like a happy sound, not a sad one. Shuusha must have arrived. Traggen sat and listened to the song for a long time as the fire died down. It changed at intervals, becoming playful and quick, or slow and sad. Eventually, the song lulled him into sleep. Traggen’s eyes snapped open, and for a long moment, he was unsure what had awakened him. But then he heard it: the sound of dripping water. He sat up slowly, to see that the fire had died to a bank of embers. At the edge of the cliff stood Shuusha, dripping wet. She appeared to be staring out at the ocean again. Her head was tipped to one side. Listening again? He listened too, holding so still he hardly dared to breathe. What was happening? The song of the sea dragons had changed again. It was slow this time, a low throbbing sound. He shifted, and Shuusha shifted slightly. She’d heard him, knew he was awake. “They are sad,” she said quietly. “Why?” he asked, just as quietly. “I don’t play with them very often. They frighten the sailors. They are sad because they have stories, of a time when I lived with them, when we hunted and played together. They don’t want me to go.” “Are you leaving them?” he asked stupidly. “Have I ever truly been with them?” she asked. She sounded sad, as sad as the song that still unfurled over them in its haunting notes. He thought that, perhaps, she didn’t intend for this question to be answered. |
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