arms. He carried her through the charred
remains of the land as ash rained. She was a precious, broken doll to him,
bandaged, burnt, her spectacles smashed, her eyes pained, her heart shattered.
He could no longer save his father, could no longer save his forest, but he
could save Fidelity. He could cherish her, heal her, keep fighting with her.
Roen carried her until
they reached rolling grasslands and the fire was but a light on the horizon, a
smell of smoke on the wind. The sun set but smoke still hid the moon and constellations.
He could see only Issari's Star between the smoky strands, the eye of the
dragon, named after an ancient priestess of Requiem. He lay Fidelity down by a
stream in the darkness.
Their clothes were
charred, torn, caked with ash and soaked with smoke. They undressed, wincing as
the fabric brushed against their wounds, and stepped naked into the stream. It
was only a foot deep, and they lay down together, letting the water stream
across them. Their hands clasped together, and Roen closed his eyes as he lay
in the water, smooth stones against his back, the cold stream flowing across
him. He tried to let the stream clear away all his pain, all his grief, all his
anger, to let all thoughts and memories flow away with the water. Fidelity
squeezed his hand, lying naked beside him, almost invisible in the darkness.
Let this be a
healing river, he thought. If you can hear my prayers, Issari's Star,
let us find healing.
Fidelity turned toward
him in the water and kissed his cheek, and they climbed out onto the grass and
lay in the night, naked in the darkness.
To me, you are
soothing and healing like water, Roen thought, closing his eyes, holding Fidelity
close, trying to lose the pain as he embraced her.
He kissed her cheek,
and then in the darkness, he found himself kissing her lips. She kissed him
back, and he stroked her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his back, and he
did not mean to, did not expect to, but he found himself making love to her,
flowing inside her, moving atop her as she gasped, wrapped her legs around him,
buried her hands in his hair. He made love to her in the darkness with the same
urgency and passion as their first time. He lay with her for his love, for his
grief, for a world that collapsed around him. Perhaps Fidelity was all that
remained of his world, all that mattered to him, the sum of all goodness and
comfort and light.
"I love you, Fidelity,"
he whispered, kissing her neck.
"I love you, Roen."
He felt her tears on his cheek. "Even as worlds crumble, I will always
love you."
They held each other,
entwined together, and slept through darkness and dawn.
DOMI
She walked with
Cade down the dark cobbled streets of Lynport, seeking the Old Wheel, the
tavern where she had spent a summer in her youth, the tavern where she would
now find hope or crushing grief.
Did
you survive the flight, Fidelity? Domi thought as she walked along the shadowy
streets. Do you wait for me here?
This
was an old neighborhood, and this was an old city, an ancient port on the edge
of the Commonwealth. Some of the houses here predated the Commonwealth itself.
They were built of wattle and daub, the timbers dark and chipped, and their
roofs were triangular and tiled, not the clay domes of those houses the Temple
had built across the realm. Lantern poles rose at every street corner, and
flames flickered within the glass panels of their lamps. Domi could not yet see
the ocean ahead, but she heard its whispers calling to her, and she smelled the
salt on the air, a smell that triggered so many memories that she shivered.
"They'll
be here, Domi," Cade said softly. He patted her hand. "Fidelity and
Roen are swift dragons, faster and stronger than any drake."
She
nodded silently. Cade could not understand her, she knew. He had no memories of
the lamplight against the wet cobblestones, the sound of waves, the smell of
salt, but to her Lynport was a place of an older life. In her mind, she was
remains of the land as ash rained. She was a precious, broken doll to him,
bandaged, burnt, her spectacles smashed, her eyes pained, her heart shattered.
He could no longer save his father, could no longer save his forest, but he
could save Fidelity. He could cherish her, heal her, keep fighting with her.
Roen carried her until
they reached rolling grasslands and the fire was but a light on the horizon, a
smell of smoke on the wind. The sun set but smoke still hid the moon and constellations.
He could see only Issari's Star between the smoky strands, the eye of the
dragon, named after an ancient priestess of Requiem. He lay Fidelity down by a
stream in the darkness.
Their clothes were
charred, torn, caked with ash and soaked with smoke. They undressed, wincing as
the fabric brushed against their wounds, and stepped naked into the stream. It
was only a foot deep, and they lay down together, letting the water stream
across them. Their hands clasped together, and Roen closed his eyes as he lay
in the water, smooth stones against his back, the cold stream flowing across
him. He tried to let the stream clear away all his pain, all his grief, all his
anger, to let all thoughts and memories flow away with the water. Fidelity
squeezed his hand, lying naked beside him, almost invisible in the darkness.
Let this be a
healing river, he thought. If you can hear my prayers, Issari's Star,
let us find healing.
Fidelity turned toward
him in the water and kissed his cheek, and they climbed out onto the grass and
lay in the night, naked in the darkness.
To me, you are
soothing and healing like water, Roen thought, closing his eyes, holding Fidelity
close, trying to lose the pain as he embraced her.
He kissed her cheek,
and then in the darkness, he found himself kissing her lips. She kissed him
back, and he stroked her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his back, and he
did not mean to, did not expect to, but he found himself making love to her,
flowing inside her, moving atop her as she gasped, wrapped her legs around him,
buried her hands in his hair. He made love to her in the darkness with the same
urgency and passion as their first time. He lay with her for his love, for his
grief, for a world that collapsed around him. Perhaps Fidelity was all that
remained of his world, all that mattered to him, the sum of all goodness and
comfort and light.
"I love you, Fidelity,"
he whispered, kissing her neck.
"I love you, Roen."
He felt her tears on his cheek. "Even as worlds crumble, I will always
love you."
They held each other,
entwined together, and slept through darkness and dawn.
DOMI
She walked with
Cade down the dark cobbled streets of Lynport, seeking the Old Wheel, the
tavern where she had spent a summer in her youth, the tavern where she would
now find hope or crushing grief.
Did
you survive the flight, Fidelity? Domi thought as she walked along the shadowy
streets. Do you wait for me here?
This
was an old neighborhood, and this was an old city, an ancient port on the edge
of the Commonwealth. Some of the houses here predated the Commonwealth itself.
They were built of wattle and daub, the timbers dark and chipped, and their
roofs were triangular and tiled, not the clay domes of those houses the Temple
had built across the realm. Lantern poles rose at every street corner, and
flames flickered within the glass panels of their lamps. Domi could not yet see
the ocean ahead, but she heard its whispers calling to her, and she smelled the
salt on the air, a smell that triggered so many memories that she shivered.
"They'll
be here, Domi," Cade said softly. He patted her hand. "Fidelity and
Roen are swift dragons, faster and stronger than any drake."
She
nodded silently. Cade could not understand her, she knew. He had no memories of
the lamplight against the wet cobblestones, the sound of waves, the smell of
salt, but to her Lynport was a place of an older life. In her mind, she was
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