Текст книги "The sea ogres eager bride"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

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Chapter

Fifteen

RANAN

Ihate that I am so easy to please. So pathetically obvious.

Because I am in a good mood for the rest of the day after Valessa touches me. I am in a good mood when I trawl through my underwater caches, looking for bits to trade in. I am in a good mood when I hunt through the waters, looking for just the right location for a large school of fish. Not that it’ll be there in a week from now when Vali can join me in the waters, but it doesn’t hurt to search.

I’m in a good mood the next day when I wake up with her curving bottom snugged up against my cocks. I’m in an even better mood when she rolls over and starts to touch me, and as she strokes my cocks and mouths them, she grinds her hips and moans. She tells me she enjoys herself, but…it feels too easy. Too simple. Surely she wants something out of this?

I hate that I am so susceptible to being touched. That a pretty woman runs her fingers over my cocks and suddenly I am ready to smile…almost.

It makes me wonder, though. Even as the days pass and the pinch of discomfort is no longer on her face, Vali does not ask for anything from me. She kisses me all over my chest. She strokes my arms, my legs, and most especially my cocks.

Yet it doesn’t always have to be about me. I like it, of course. No sane male would be displeased at a woman who attempts to pleasure him every chance she can. I enjoy it, even as it doesn’t sit right for me. Vali should want more from me than just some fabric and a few trinkets, shouldn’t she?

But what do I give her? Any jewels that she wants, she can simply take from my grotto. The same for fabrics, or statues, or other shiny things. Those do not count as gifts, as far as I am concerned. Nor is food a gift, because she needs to eat. If I make a meal a gift, I worry she will feel she will need to buy each mouthful from me, and I do not like that idea.

Yet if I let her continue to pleasure me in bed, I am using her.

My thoughts trouble me, almost as much as the weather troubles me. It is unbearably hot over the next few days, and the fish that normally teem off the reefs here seek cooler waters. Hunting is bad near the cave, so I swim farther out, into the deep blue depths after several days of poor meals. Akara’s mind touches mine with worry, but I send her thoughts of reassurance and an image of Vali. Even if I am gone all day, she needs to stay with my human female, who has proven to be more fragile and vulnerable than I’d hoped.

And thus lies another problem. How can Vali be the mate to a sea-ogre when my world does not welcome her? She does not swim. The endless sun blisters her fishbelly-colored skin. The people on shore hunt her, and she bleeds heavily at least once a month. How can she live upon Akara’s back at my side as I rob the human ships that sail up and down the shipping lanes here? It’s not safe.

My uncle has a human mate, but his is male. There is no monthly bleeding there. My mother sheds an egg once a month so that must be similar.

The smartest thing would be to take Vali to the innkeeper with the daughter and ask them to help her find a home. To accept that I cannot have a human wife and leave her with people I trust.

Yet…I find I cannot bring myself to entertain the idea. Every time I consider it, I think of Vali’s smile of pleasure as she tongues one of my cocks…

…and I am a selfish, rotten bastard, because I am going to keep her.

I swim along the sea floor, distracted by thoughts of Vali and her warm, enticing, eager mouth. The corals grow thick here, with colorful fish darting around me as I move. I prefer the more open waters, as a rogue wave can slam me up against the sharp corals and scrape a layer off my skin, but I don’t want to go out so far that it’s impossible for me to return to Vali at the end of the day. I glide past the thick wall of corals and dive deeper, to the shelf of deep blue waters behind it. If Vali wants a large fish to please Vor, I’m going to have to lure them closer to the surface. She can’t dive this far.

But if I’m going to lure, I need to be familiar with the waters. I breathe out, letting the remainder of the air in my lungs escape to the surface, and dive deeper. The light from the surface grows distant, and the protective membrane that slides over my eyes when I swim flattens everything I see. I rely on my underwater senses instead, where I can “feel” the positions and sizes of other things in the waters around me by how they affect the waters we swim in. I can feel the fluttering movements of a school of fish off to one side, and the slower, more thoughtful movements of a large predator across from them.

I skim through the waters, seeking just the right movements that will tell me that what I’m looking for is nearby.

The sea floor stirs, and something impossibly large rises from below.

Immediately, I dart for the surface, alarm flaring through me as the entire bottom of the sea seems to rise up. A sea dragon, I realize, and I’ve wandered into its hunting grounds. Around me, the fish scatter in a panic, and I dart in the opposite direction of the large school of skipjack I’ve been following in the hopes that the sea dragon will go after the fish and not me.

I am not so lucky, though. I can feel it rising in the waters behind me, the sea shivering with the force of its movements and confusing my senses. I need to get away at all costs. Sea dragons are similar to the eels that hide in corals, but ten times the size, and as fiercely possessive of their territory as their smaller cousins.

Something sharp closes in around my leg, sending white-hot pain lancing up my calf. I cry out, the sound escaping away in a bubble. I’m dragged downward, my lower leg trapped in the creature’s jaws. If he takes me into his cave, I won’t make it out alive. I have to break free. I pull one of my short knives from my chest harness and stab at the creature’s face, but the beak of it is tough like Akara’s shell. I stab again and again, desperate to hit something that will make a difference, even as the waters around me fill with blood.

Blood is bad—if the sea dragon doesn’t finish me off, the sharks will. In a panic, I continue to stab—and finally hit something soft. A nostril, perhaps.

The creature thrashes, the head flinging back and forth, and then I’m flung away into the inky waters. Panicked, I claw at the sea, desperate to get away, but all is dark and I don’t know the way up. I’m blinded in the darkness, and I could swim right back into the creature’s yawning mouth if I’m not careful.

I need to go soon, too, or it might change its mind about releasing me and come to finish me off.

Ignoring the fluttering panic in my gut, I cup my hands around my mouth and let out an air bubble, noting the direction it heads, and I follow after it, doing the same over and over again until the light begins to seep through the blue waters, and this time I can see the bubbles heading to the surface.

Clawing my way forward, I surge to the surface and take a deep gasping breath of air. I tread water for a moment, trying to orient my senses, but I’m far from the grotto. I can feel the torn flesh of my leg dragging in the water, and the dull, hot pain increases by the moment.

I have to get to shore. I can’t bleed freely in the water or I’ll bring every shark in the area to my side. I mentally reach for Akara, but her thoughts feel distant. I try to head toward them, but my own thoughts are foggy with pain.

Stupid. I’m so stupid. I practically wandered into a sea dragon’s mouth just because I was trying to chase fish for a pretty human. I should have known better than to venture so deep. I swim for a bit, noting that the shore is a dim line of color on the horizon. Closer than that, a gray fin breaks the surface, circling.

I’m not going to make it to the shore.

I turn, looking for alternatives. There’s a sandy spit not too far away, with a lone tree clinging to the rocks. I head there and barely manage to pull myself to the shore. Sand clings to my skin as I pull myself to safety, getting into my wound and sending more pain shooting through my limbs. I turn onto my back and look down at my bad leg—the flesh of my calf hangs off, as if the beak of the creature was trying to strip meat from bone and didn’t get a chance to finish. The sight of it makes me ill, as does the blood pooling around me in the sand.

Pulling my chest harness off, I make a tourniquet to slow the bleeding and then lie back on the sands, dizzy. I’ll rest for a bit, wait for the sharks to dissipate, and then swim back to the grotto. It might be morning before it’s safe, though.

Hopefully Vali won’t be too frightened to spend the night alone.

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Chapter

Sixteen

VALI

Ranan doesn’t return for supper.

Normally when the sun sets, he returns with a freshly caught fish or two and an eager look in his eye. I like to pretend that the eager look is for me, that he’s happy to return to my side. It’s more likely he’s just hoping for me to use my mouth on him before bed, but I don’t mind. I like pleasuring him.

Tonight, though…no Ranan.

Huh.

I mentally go through our last conversation, wondering if I said something to offend him. Wondering if I’ve irritated him enough that he’s decided to just not come back for me at all. It doesn’t seem like something Ranan would do, however. If he was done with me, he’d say so.

Wouldn’t he?

I keep myself busy, tidying up the cave and sorting through a few more bags of treasure that have been carelessly tossed together. There are delicate dishes mixed in with cloth, vials of exotic spices flung in with jewelry, and fascinating-looking weapons mixed in with the lot. I neatly sort through everything, not because I’m calculating their worth, but because it’ll be easier for Ranan to realize what he has if it’s all placed together. By the time I’m done with three of the biggest trunks in the back of the grotto, I’ve got a chest full of Yshremi coins, a smaller one of Adassian, and bags of jewelry. The weapons are rolled into leather to keep them tidy, and the fabrics gently folded.

Still no Ranan.

My heart aches. I must have offended him, then. Said something stupid or careless…or lied again.

Gods, that must be it. Some silly lie has tumbled off my lips without me realizing it, and he’s furious at me once more. That’s why he hasn’t returned.

Crushed, I go to sleep alone in our nest of blankets.

I wake up to sunlight streaming in through the hole in the roof of the grotto, and still no Ranan. Sitting up, I rub my face and yawn…and then I hear it.

A low, morose bellow. Like a woale searching for her calf, only much larger and deeper.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I get to my feet, listening for it again. Is that…his turtle? What’s her name? Akara? Did he not take her with him if he was leaving?

None of this makes sense.

Since I didn’t eat last night, I nibble on a few of the treats he’d brought me from the mainland– dried fruit and nuts. I clean up after myself and get fresh water, and am relieved to note that my period is finally gone. There’s nothing to stop me from learning to swim now.

Nothing except for the fact that the person I wanted to learn for is gone.

Akara makes another low moaning sound, and it unsettles me. I don’t know anything about turtles of any size, but that doesn’t sound happy.

Is it possible that something has happened to Ranan?

I glance up at the hole in the ceiling of the cave, but it’s far too high up for me to climb to. The only way out of here is to go along the watery tunnel I entered from. The thought makes me shiver. I can’t swim, and this time I don’t have Ranan to guide me through. What if I get lost underwater? What if I drown?

Akara moans again, and I scrub my hands against my scalp. I can’t stand it. I have to see what’s going on. Ranan wouldn’t leave his turtle behind. I like to think he wouldn’t leave his wife behind either, not without some sort of word. Something must be wrong.

Decided, I move to the edge of the pool and stare into the blue depths. My teeth chatter with fear, imagining all the monsters that could be lurking just outside the cave entrance, waiting to gobble me up.

Don’t thrash, Ranan had told me. Only prey thrashes.

The watery tunnel itself seems to be narrow. I remember bumping along against the uneven sides of the wall as Ranan pulled me through. Perhaps instead of swimming, I can pull myself through to the other side. It’ll be just like climbing into the hay loft in a barn, I tell myself.

Except narrow and underwater and dark.

Gods.

Vor, help me, I pray silently. Help me find my husband.

I ease into the water, tucking my clothing tight around my body. After a moment’s hesitation, I emerge, grab a jeweled dagger, and then return to the water with my weapon in my belt. It takes some doing before I’m brave enough to submerge myself, and even more before I can convince myself to go underwater for longer than the span of a breath.

“Just do it,” I chant to myself. “Just go. Think about it later.”

I suck in a deep breath, hold my nose, and plunge myself underwater. I tell myself not to panic, to grab the rocky wall just as I’ve been practicing, and guide myself forward. I pull myself along in the tunnel, and when I can’t hold my breath any longer, I open my eyes. The salt water stings them, but I see a circle of light up ahead and push through, inwardly whimpering.

I come out the other side with a sobbed gasp and cough hard, water dripping down my face. It’s a weird sense of triumph to feel after swimming (pulling) myself down a short span, but I’m thrilled at my progress. I did it. I did it by myself, and I didn’t think it was possible.

I pull myself to the rocky shoreline and sit upon it, gasping and streaming water. Immediately, Akara bellows again and then the massive turtle is heading in my direction. She’s enormous, twice the size of any modest farmhouse, and for a moment I’m frozen with fear.

But she stops short of my spot on the shore and slaps her flippers in the water and bellows again.

“I see you,” I tell her. “But I don’t know what’s wrong.”

The turtle bellows again, her sharp, triangular face looming ever closer to mine. I swallow hard and then gently reach up to stroke her nose. She could snap me in half with that terrible beak of hers, but Ranan adores the turtle. He speaks to her somehow, and I wish I could. “I don’t know how to help,” I tell her, running my fingers along the ridges of her nose. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”

To my surprise, my mind floods with images of Ranan. All of them blurry and unfocused, but all of them Ranan. I jerk my hand back in surprise.

Like a puppy, Akara shoves her nose under my hand again.

Once more, a flood of mental images of Ranan pierce my thoughts.

“I’m worried about him, too,” I tell her, hesitantly stroking her nose. Is this how Ranan communicates with her? Through mental images? “But I don’t know where he is.”

Akara’s great head swivels and she tosses it, splashing me with water as she thrashes. She lets out a low bellow and then looks at me expectantly.

“You know where he is?” I guess.

The turtle bellows again, nearly shaking the rocks with the force of her response.

I get to my feet, wobbly. “Can you take me there?”

The noise she makes is affirmation, I hope. Either that or a burp. She pushes back from the shore, as if taking off already.

“Wait,” I call out, chasing after her. “Wait for me! I can’t swim like you!”

I paddle out to the turtle’s head and when she nudges me, I try to get on her sloping back. The top of her shell is flat, but the sides are mossy and slick with slime and water, and I can’t find purchase. I scramble to climb on board and manage to do so after several pathetic attempts. Akara is patient, at least. Panting, I get to my feet atop her and put my hands on my hips. “Let’s go find him, then. I’m with you.”

The turtle lets out another burp of air and sinks into the water, just a little. I spread my feet to steady myself as she shifts, turning about in the shallow cove and then the powerful, sail-like flippers push off.

I float off on a turtle’s back, alone, into the wide open sea.

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Chapter

Seventeen

VALI

Time passes slowly. Akara continues to swim, heading constantly in what feels like the same direction. For a long time, there’s nothing on the horizon but more endless blue, and it makes me nervous. Where is she going, exactly?

But then a thin needle appears on the horizon and grows steadily larger. As we approach, I can see it’s a lone tree, out in the middle of what feels like nowhere. A lone tree, and the tiniest slice of rocky, sandy shore.

And upon it? The familiar, greenish skin of one of the seakind.

“Ranan,” I breathe as Akara gets close enough that I can make out his collapsed form. I shield my eyes from the afternoon sunlight. He doesn’t stir as Akara pulls herself against the rocks and bellows again, loud and plaintive.

When she doesn’t move closer, I realize she can’t. Akara is meant for swimming and floating, and if she tries to get over those dagger-like rocks that line the shallows around the land-spit, she’ll end up stranding herself.

It’s up to me, then. I move to the edge of the turtle’s shell and jump into the shallow waters. There are schools of small fish here, and little crabs that scurry away when I splash down. I wade over to the tiny slice of shore, where the sand looks as if it’s mixed with stone, and the lone tree clings to the rocks, its roots like a gnarled hand gripping the land tight. There’s a few dark blobs scattered in the shadow that look like oversized nuts. If I were here alone, I’d be intrigued by this little bit of land in the midst of nowhere. For someone who has lived all her life on the outskirts of the same city, the openness here is unnerving and fascinating at the same time.

But Ranan comes first.

I scramble to his side, ignoring the sharp jabs of the rocks on the undersides of my bare feet. “Ranan!” I touch his throat, feeling for the pulse of his heartbeat, and I’m relieved to feel it thrumming underneath his greenish skin. He’s hot and dry, though, his skin burning under the endless sunlight. He needs water and shade. Did he pass out from exhaustion? Heat? I skim my gaze over him, looking for issues…and stop when I see one leg tucked under another. There’s a tourniquet tied around the calf of one leg, and it’s swaddled in what looks like strands of seaweed from the shallows.

The sand around him is dark with blood. How am I just now seeing this? I thought it was a shadow. My body clenched tight with fear, I reach down and brush some of the seaweed away. It’s even worse than I thought. His leg looks as if it’s been ripped at from the knee down, like a sleeve being torn from a dress. I can see bone. I can see loose flesh. And over all of it is sandy grit.

No wonder he’s fevered.

“We’re going to fix this,” I swear to the unconscious Ranan. I won’t allow myself to panic. He needs help, and I’m the only one that’s around, so it has to be me. I’m not much of a medic, but I’ve sewn up many torn robes. Hopefully I can start from there. Stopping the bleeding is the first issue.

I glance around the tiny land spit, but there’s no shelter except under the fronds of the lone tree. I eye my surroundings and then Akara’s empty back, thinking longingly of the shelter that is normally set up there. Ranan must have removed it when we went to the grotto. I should have considered this when I climbed on Akara’s back earlier, but I was too panicked. All I’ve got is my knife and my tunic.

It’ll have to do.

Eyeing my clothing, I decide Ranan needs it more than I do. I pull off my brand new tunic and slit up the sides of the careful stitches I’d made just days ago. With the fabric, I make a long length and then roll Ranan’s heavy, limp body onto the end of it. I use the fabric as a makeshift travois and drag him to the shade of the tree itself. The leaves protect from the worst of the sun, so I settle Ranan against the trunk of it and then get to work on cleaning his leg.

The sand is everywhere, which is annoying, but I can hopefully get most of it cleaned. I end up ripping the material of my tunic in half. Half of it remains under Ranan so he has a relatively dirt-free spot to lie down, and the other half I take down to the water’s edge with me, soaking it and then returning to his side with my streaming bundle. With the seawater, I rinse the sand away and carefully try to push the brutalized flesh back into place. It needs stitches, like a ripped sleeve would, but I don’t even have a needle and thread with me.

Ranan moans in pain, drawing my attention.

I touch his cheek, noting that he’s burning up. “Are you waking up? Ranan?”

No response. His lips part and they look cracked and dry. I don’t know how much water he drinks, but I’m guessing that someone that spends most of his day submerged probably needs a fair amount to keep his throat wet. He needs a drink. I look around, helpless. There’s nothing here but those stupid oversized round nuts. I kick one away, and to my surprise, it sloshes.

Oh.

When I take a closer look at the nut, I recognize the outer shell. It’s some sort of exotic fruit that Lady Dywan would have on her table occasionally. I’ve never tasted it, but I have had a taste of the milk that comes inside. It’s something for Ranan to drink at least.

I claw at the nut’s hard-but-spongy exterior, trying to open it. Doesn’t work. Frustrated, I stab the knife right into the heart of the damned thing, and a clear liquid spurts out. I yelp, grabbing the oversized nut before all the liquid can pour out, and hold it carefully over Ranan’s parched mouth. It dribbles against his lips, and I stroke his throat to encourage him to swallow. When it runs down the sides of his face, I set the nut aside, tilted carefully so the precious liquid remains intact, and stroke his face to comfort him. “Ranan?”

Still no response. All I can do is hope that things aren’t as dire as they look.

I press my fingers to his skin, but he still feels hot and feverish all over. I soak the fabric one more time, then drape the wet length over his body to cool him. He sighs at that, and I feel as if I’ve done something right, at least.

There’s a splash in the distance, and I think guiltily of Akara. Is the turtle anxiously awaiting news about Ranan? Or does she know I have under control? I move to the water’s edge and wade back out to her, reaching for the enormous face. She could take my entire body in her mouth and snap me in half, and yet I’m not afraid of her any longer.

We both want the same thing—for Ranan to survive.

I stroke the hard beak, sending her warm thoughts. “He’s going to be fine,” I reassure her. I’m not sure if that’s true or not. I don’t know how to take care of him out here with no supplies, but I’m going to do my best. Ranan’s going to need food to keep up his strength, though, and I’m no fisherwoman. We can eat the fruit, of course, but I think Akara will need something to do to keep herself busy. I know I would. “Can you patrol the waters for us, Akara? Make sure no predators are coming this way?”

The turtle makes another bellowing sound, and then she pushes off away from the land-spit, leaving me alone with the unconscious Ranan. For a moment, I panic as she leaves. She’s my way back to the grotto, to safety. But as I watch her go, I relax a bit more. Akara is loyal. She’s devoted to Ranan. There’s no way she’d leave him here. She’ll make certain we’re safe here and once Ranan’s awake and able to walk, we’ll get him on her back and to the grotto where I can take proper care of him.

I sit down next to him, stroking his too-warm brow, and wait.

The stars glitter high in the sky and the night is absolutely clear. The weather is beautiful and the sea around us calm. If it weren’t for the fact that Ranan is grievously wounded, I might appreciate the quiet, perfect night.

As it is, it just emphasizes how much is wrong.

Ranan continues to sleep, but his dreams are fitful and unpleasant. He sweats. He tosses. He turns. He breathes rapidly sometimes, as if he’s running up a hill, yet he remains asleep. I keep his leg wet, because seawater has to be more sterile than the sand that crusts everything, but I worry it’s not enough. If we were in a city, I’d insist the local healer come by. They’d sell us some stinky potion for him to drink, sew up his leg, say a few prayers to Kalos, the Lord of Disease, and ask him to stay his hand.

And while I can do the prayers here, I don’t know if they’ll do any good if his leg doesn’t get sewn up. Right now it’s just an open wound, and I know that isn’t good at all.

I prop his head in my lap throughout the night, stroking the delicate fin that rises from his head. Even it feels overly warm, and it worries me. At least back at the grotto I could give him my willow bark. I could bathe him with fresh water and feed him soup. I could sew up his leg.

Being out here in the middle of nowhere will be death for him if he doesn’t awaken.

Daylight comes, and Akara returns with a bellow. She slaps at the water with her fins to demand that I come greet her. I wade back out to her, my face raw from the sunlight and my mouth parched. My stomach rumbles, but I’ve been saving the white flesh from the nuts for Ranan in case he should wake up. But now that Akara has returned, I have a new idea.

“I’m glad you’re back, because we need to talk,” I tell the turtle as I wade out to her side. Akara immediately comes to me and pushes her nose against my hands, not unlike the barn cats used to back at the farm in Parness. I stroke her nose and images of Ranan drift through my mind, pushed to me by the turtle. She’s asking how he is. I send my thoughts back to her, filling my head with the unconscious Ranan and then mental images of Ranan back at the grotto, Ranan awake and smiling. “We need to go back. I can’t tend to him here. Can you take us?”

She makes a sound I don’t quite grasp and turns her head in a different direction, as if pointing at something. I hope we’re thinking along the same lines. There’s no way to tell.

I’m going to have to gamble that she understands me. I think she does, because when I move back to Ranan’s side, she remains calm, leisurely turning her large body in the shallow waters. That’s a good sign. I bend over Ranan, ignoring the throb of my bare feet and the pain of my overly pink sunburned skin. I can bear all that if Ranan lives.

Touching his cheek, I stroke it to try and wake him. “Ranan? Can you rouse? I need to get you on Akara’s back and it’s going to be a lot easier if you’re awake.”

There’s no response. I stroke his cheek again, and he moans, the sound heart-wrenching.

I need to get him back to the grotto and soon. Leaning in, I kiss his cheek and stroke his face. “I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

I have to.

It takes a long time for me to tug him back to the water’s edge. The sandy strip turns into rocks, and I don’t want to knock him against them. Plus, he’s twice as heavy as me. Using the fabric as a travois, I manage to drag him a little at a time, and the fabric rips and tears in my grip. By the time I get him into the shallows, it’s practically shredded. I manage to pull him through the water over to Akara’s side, and then have to figure out how to get him up the turtle’s sloping back. I send a lot of mental images to Akara and use the strips of fabric to make a harness over his shoulders, and brace myself on the join of Akara’s head and neck, straining to haul him upward.

The hamarii turtle flicks her head, sending me tumbling backward, but it also shoves Ranan’s limp form high enough that I can haul him up.

I want to weep with joy as Akara pushes off from the spit, heading out into the deeper waters once more. But there’s no relief for me just yet. I gather the ripped remnants of fabric and start to piece it back together with knots, because Ranan needs to keep his head covered from the relentless sun.

I can rest when we return to the grotto, I tell myself.

Nothing else matters if Ranan dies.

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