Saebrya

Saebrya eyed the bloated bag of ether that surrounded the Auld. It sloshed with his movements, dribbling small amounts of silver down its soggy ethereal skin and onto the floor. She reached out and touched it. Above her, Auld Rhydderch had gone completely still, his breath caught in his throat.

A look passed between them, one of mixed fear and anticipation.

What will he do once he has what he’s after? Saebrya thought.

As if he could read her mind, the Auld touched her hand and said, “I’m not going to hurt you, girl. I swear it on my honor. My protection for you and your friend, starting today.” His words were almost desperate.

Saebrya scanned his eyes—his real eyes, not the fake brown ones the veoh formed in front of his face. Half of her wanted to leave him there and walk away, go back to the Idorion and her simple life with Ryan. She knew that the moment she freed him of this curse, everything would change for her. And she didn’t want it to change. She wanted, more than anything, to grab Ryan and go home.

Then, overpowering her fears, came the single, all-important thought, This man saved Ryan.

“Please,” Auld Rhydderch said, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes hadn’t left her face. “Please do it.”

It was his desperation that finally did it for her. So plain, having just steeped in a similar desperation on the streets of Siorus, Saebrya recognized it as if it were her own. Whatever this two-faced curse was, it had brought him to the ragged edge of the Abyss and made him look over the edge.

“Okay,” she said warily, “but Ryan and I are going home.” She waited, meeting his eyes, waiting for his agreement.

Instead of lying to her, however, Auld Rhydderch said, “If you go home, someone is going to find that boy and kill him. The rest of his family line is dead. There is only him and…” The network around his jaw tightened suddenly, and she could hear his teeth grind as his jaw clenched. The Auld tightened his fists and she watched him work on getting his jaw under control again. Finally, through strained teeth, he said, “His best chance of survival is staying here in the Spyre with me.”

It mirrored what the old man in the forest had said, and Saebrya saw the truth in Rhydderch’s eyes. She thought again of Ryan, and how now, by some miracle she didn’t understand, he was still breathing because Rhydderch had saved him.

Steeling herself, Saebrya reached up and swiped her hand through the ethereal film keeping the silver fluid pooling around his body, rending huge gaps with her fingers.

The Auld exhaled as if he’d been punched. The blanket disintegrated into a fine silver spray, and with it, the ether that had been trapped behind it exploded outward like water from an over-filled wineskin. All around them, a flood of ether drenched the room, coating the floor and walls, sloshing over the carpet and desk, spreading with the force of a bursting dam.

The Auld crumpled to his knees, gasping. His two faces still remained, and the silvery veins pulsing in a silver web entangling his body were just as strong as before.

Saebrya eyed him warily as he panted, both palms pressed to the floor, head hanging. He looked like she’d kicked him. Tentatively, she asked, “Still want me to do the rest?”

He nodded, speechless as he fumbled for breath.

She knelt beside him and gingerly took one of the pulsing silver veins crossing his back into her fingers. Gripping it tightly, she pulled. The tension reached a tipping point, then snapped. With it, the entire network crisscrossing his skin shattered into a thousand silver droplets and the Auld gasped again, jerking his head up to look at her.

The second face had faded, leaving her staring into brilliant green eyes that could have belonged to Ryan. He stared back, his time-weathered face holding something akin to awe.

She bit her lip, seeing more webbing that remained around the Auld’s mouth. “There’s one more…” She gingerly reached up to his face, and when he did not try to stop her, traced her fingernails across his jaw, then made a rubbing motion against it when the gesture failed to pry up a piece of the web.

Though it took more effort, eventually it, too, weakened and disintegrated into dribbles soaking his beard.

When it was done, the Auld looked so much like an older version of Ryan that Saebrya’s breath caught. She averted her eyes to keep from staring.

For a long moment, she felt Rhydderch watching her, heard his chest heaving with uneven breaths. Then the big man reached out and touched her with calloused fingers and she swallowed, looking down at his hand before her eyes traveled up to his too-familiar face.

“My name is Raedher Ganlin,” he whispered to her. Tears reddened his eyes at the words. “Oh gods,” he said in a rush. “Oh gods I said it.” He dropped his hand and his shoulders began to quake.

He’s crying, she realized, stunned. “Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, but wouldn’t look at her.

Tentatively, Saebrya touched his back. A little shocked by the way the rugged Auld had deteriorated into a blubbering wreck in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. Biting her lip, she asked, “What happened to you? Who gave you those faces?”

“My mother,” he whispered. Rhydderch looked up at her, eyes red with tears. “She was trying to fulfil the Ariod prophecy.”

She blinked. “Your mother did that?”

“She could only save one of us, and she knew I was stronger than my sister…” He whimpered again, once more fighting sobs. “Agathe. My sister.” It came out as a tortured sound. He fisted his hands on the carpet, shuddering. “I could’ve helped her. I could’ve saved her if I’d only had you do it before. But I was afraid. I was—” He took a deep, uneven breath. “I never got to tell Agathe what she did to me.” There were tears in his green eyes as he looked at her. “I had to watch her die.”

Saebrya, who didn’t understand what he was trying to say, nonetheless nodded in commiseration. “I’m sorry.

“My mother could only save one of us,” he said softly. He squeezed his eyes shut against tears. “And she chose to save me.”

What had happened was beginning to dawn upon Saebrya. “Your…sister? You mean your mom killed your sister?”

Rhydderch wordlessly stared at the floor. “Allowed her to be killed. A sacrifice.”

Saebrya reeled back, appalled. “Why would your mother do such a thing?” She couldn’t remember having a mother, but from what she’d seen of Ryan’s, she couldn’t imagine a mother sacrificing a child.

The Auld wiped away tears, recollecting himself. Whereas his shock had stripped his soul bare moments before, the intelligence from earlier was returning to his eyes, the cunning. “For the same reason she put the fire drake in irons. To save us.” He gave Saebrya a hard look. “Just as, I’m sure, she was anticipating an Auldbluut to show up on my threshold when I needed it most.”

Saebrya frowned. “What—”

Rhydderch cut her off with brusque gesture. “Please give me some time alone. Your room is over there. You’ll be able to sleep the night in peace—your friend won’t wake until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest.”

Saebrya stood, a little startled at the stark dismissal. As she was turning to go find her room, Rhydderch softly added, “Thank you, Saebrya. Because of you, my family will be avenged.”

She turned back to him. Earnestly, she said, “Auld Rhydderch, I’ll do it a thousand times again for what you did for Ryan. He’s my only friend.”

The Auld looked at her a moment and said, “You have two of them now.”

Saebrya felt a little flutter of hope in her chest before she crushed it. “I’ve known Ryan since I was a child.”

Undeterred by her harsh words, Rhydderch retorted, “And you’ll know me for much longer, if I have anything to say about it.” He continued wiping tears from his face. “Go take a bath. You stink of fish.”

“I’m a fishmonger,” Saebrya said, frowning. “Of course I stink of fish.”

Rhydderch chuckled from under his arm as if that amused him. “You Idorion peasants and your aversion to bathing.” He gestured to her dirty clothes, which were filthy rags compared to his. “Here, in the Spyre, my staff does not smell of fish. Go bathe. I need to…think…about things a while. Today has been…difficult. In a lot of ways, you just unmade me, and I need to once more find an equilibrium before I return to the nest of vipers to plot out their demise.”

Though she had no intention of bathing, Saebrya said, “I mean it. I’ll do it a thousand times again for what you did for Ryan.”

Rhydderch chuckled as he got to his feet. “Careful what you offer, girl. I might take you up on it.” As he moved, silver waves of ether sloshed to the floor, no longer hindered by the blanket.

Watching it spill free, Saebrya felt overwhelmed. “Thank you for helping us.” She hesitated. “I’m…sorry I didn’t trust you earlier.”

The Auld glanced at her, green eyes still bright with tears. Before she understood his intent, he had moved forward and drawn her into his arms, pulling her tight to his chest. Into her hair, he whispered, “You have given me a gift I will never forget, little one. All is forgiven, and more.”

Saebrya closed her eyes, savoring the feel of the embrace. It reminded her of long ago, before the fire. When he released her, she looked up at him through tears of her own.

Gratitude passed between them, warm and soul-filling.

“Go bathe,” he said gently, “I will have the staff bring you suitable garments. The bathing chamber has perpetually heated water—just turn the lever.”

Saebrya wrinkled her nose. “I’m not bathing.”

“You will if you want me to take you to see Ryan in the morning.”

She squinted up at him, saw the stone-hard seriousness in his green eyes, then grimaced and relented. “Fine, but I won’t use soap. Makes my skin itch.”

Rhydderch went over to a cabinet, grabbed something from inside that smelled of flowers, and dropped it into her palm with a pointed look. “You want to impress your young man? Trust me. Use soap.”