Chapter Eighteen

Solace

“It may not be particularly warm, but it’s cleaner than the lake,” Rhydian said, setting a pair of fresh, and more importantly dry, clothes atop one of the large, flat stones resting along the riverbank.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bathed in cold water,” Inerys said, “I can make do.”

He nodded, surveying the surrounding wood a moment before he turned to her.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, searching her face with a depth of concern that genuinely surprised her.

She raised her bare, glowing fingers. “Sore, but that’s not out of the ordinary these days. Not more than I expected to be, though. Considering I just punched a wyvern in the face.”

The ghost of a smile quirked his lips. “You’re daring, I’ll give you that. Can you sense any new damage to your meridians?”

“I haven’t felt anything new, but honestly, I haven’t actually checked,” she admitted.

Doing would take a certain measure of concentration she wasn’t sure she could achieve at present. Once she was out of these stinking, sodden clothes, then she’d reevaluate. Taxing as it might be, it was better to take the time to ensure she hadn’t accidentally torn open another channel. Once she had a chance to quiet her mind and soothe her frayed nerves.

“When you’re settled, take a moment to comb through your channels and see,” he said.

“I will. It will be easier to concentrate once I’m out of these miserable boots.”

Wet socks were truly the worst.

“Here, let me take them and your cloak. Tanuzet can dry them for you easily enough.”

Inerys undid the ties, as well as her mother’s broach, and pinned it to the hood. She teetered a moment, suddenly unsteady in its absence. She hadn’t realized how heavy the cursed thing had been, soaked as it was.

“Thank you.”

Looping the cloak over one arm, he offered a slight bow. “I’ll leave you to your privacy. Come join us at the fire when you’re ready.”

She hummed, glancing to the clear, gurgling water. While the musky scent of algae still lingered in the air, likely from her, the stream smelled remarkably clean. Refreshing, even, despite the fading scent trails of recent, four-legged visitors.

Grimacing, she eyed the surrounding woods herself. While she didn’t see or smell anyone close, she still felt strangely exposed. In the Wilds, she’d had the mists to conceal her. Spirits, anyone could see her out here, even Rhydian, if he popped his head back over the ridge. Her cheeks heated at the thought and she stood for a time, staring at the waters in deliberation. Though, the longer she waited, the more tacky and itchy her skin became.

You can sit here and stink, or you can just get it over with, she thought with a small sigh through her nose.

She reached for the top of her blouse, fingers stopping just short of the ties. A familiar presence brushed hers, causing the hair along the back of her neck to prickle, her Soul to stir. It was gentle in its approach, cautious, even. Like Ephaxus wished to announce his presence before he revealed himself. Or perhaps ask permission.

She couldn’t scent him, which meant he was likely down wind. Aside from the steady gurgling of the river and the ambient sounds of the twilight forest, she’d heard little else. Was he in the air? Or silently waiting somewhere nearby?

With an air of hesitation, she sent him her acknowledgement.

Along the opposite bank, she caught movement. Ephaxus crept through the forest, his head low and tongue flickering as he met her gaze. For a creature his size, he moved with remarkable grace. She would have expected more crashing about, more weight when the finger-like appendages at the junction of his wings met the ground. Instead, she found each movement measured and purposeful, as if he were some giant, winged feline.

He crossed the river, encircling her, though his long tail remained along the opposite bank. Without a word, he situated himself between her and the ridge leading back to camp. One wing opened wide in a great canopy above her, his spinal crest flaring from between his horns, down the length of his back to the end of his tail. The long fins along the tip of his tail fanned as well, blocking the world around her in a great, half circle.

The tension in her shoulders lessened. “I - thank you, Ephaxus.”

He blinked, slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “About everything.”

As am I, little one, he said.

“You’re not mad at me, then?”

No more than I am at myself. I came to realize that in my haste to cope with my loss, I left myself open. Receptive. As I imagine you did.

“I’m not sure what came over me,” she admitted. “It was like instinct, almost. You felt . . . familiar, somehow.”

Compatible Souls often comfort one another. There is no shame in it. Nor is there in sharing the burden of one’s loss. It was not my intention to tie myself to another, but it is done. A bond cannot be forged without the acceptance of both involved, so I shall not shy away from my part in its creation. Nor shall I cast blame.

“Neither will I,” she said. “I’m not quite sure what it takes to be a partner, but I’ll do my best. I promise.”

Such is all I ask.

There were certainly advantages to having such a formidable ally.

“What happens now?”

Now, you should bathe. You stink of fish.

Inerys cast him a withering glare. “And you smell like a bog monster.”

You can help pick the remaining lakeweed and water lilies from my back once you are finished, he snorted, Until then, I will keep watch.

“You won’t mind my . . . bareness, will you?” She asked, cheeks going pink.

Sensing her embarrassment, he said, I have no interest in your flesh, little vampire. Your nakedness will hardly offend me. I’m only relieved the females of your species lack the same dangly bits your counterparts possess. They’re unsettling.

Inerys sputtered. “Dangly bits? Wait, no. Nevermind, you don’t need to elaborate.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hands raised to silence him as she tried to put that particular image out of her mind.

Distracting may be a more accurate description, he said, shuddering in a manner reminiscent of a bird ruffling its feathers.

“Ephaxus, please.”

He huffed. Forgive me. I’m unaccustomed to speaking like this with those outside my kin.

“How do you mean?” She asked, beginning to peel away her sticky, mud-soaked clothes one by one.

Ephaxus respectfully kept his attention elsewhere.

While my kin can understand you and yours, our bodies are not built to speak as you do. Thus our use of our emotions in place of spoken word. There may come a day I reach a high enough Ascension to build a secondary body like yours. Perhaps then, we may converse in a manner you are more accustomed to.

“We’re speaking now, aren’t we?”

We are, he admitted, But you are interpreting my thoughts, not my tongue.

Inerys took a moment to consider. She supposed she was. Rhydian had mentioned her having a more developed mental core, perhaps that explained their curious, mind-to-mind link.

Resting her small clothes beside her trousers and blouse, Inerys grabbed the small bar of soap and eased into the river. Its cool touch sent gooseflesh skittering up her legs, luminescent skin undimmed by the crystal clear waters. She waded in up to her chest, mastering her breaths. Her body stiffened of its own volition, but it had been in such frigid waters before. Closing her eyes, she undid what remained of her braid and dipped below the surface.

She combed her clawed fingers through her hair with one hand, ridding her miserable curls of algae and sediment. When she emerged, she used the soap to lather her hair, relishing its pleasant, yet foreign scent. It was zesty and slightly floral, like verbena or something else akin to it. Whatever it was, she used it to scrub her body until she could no longer smell the muskiness of the lake on her skin.

For a time, she was content to remain in the water, having found a flat, shallow rock to sit upon as she thought. She steadied her mind and turned her senses inward to her channels. She found her physical core, broken and in shambles, but still refusing to give out. Her meridians were still tender, but no more damaged than they had been prior to their leave of the base. A relief, to be sure. When she’d felt her essence surge, she feared she may have inadvertently caused more damage.

Content with her evaluation, she withdrew herself and refocused on the night. She looked up to Ephaxus.

“May I ask you something?”

He looked to her, tilting his head. If you wish.

“Were you able to communicate this way with your last partner?”

He fell silent, then said, No.

“And the others? Can they speak with their wyverns?”

Unless Vaelor and Tanuzet are keeping secrets, I suspect the answer is the same.

She’d had a feeling it would be.

She pursed her lips.

“When we were falling, I heard another voice in my head, but at the time I thought I’d somehow heard it through yours. It was feminine. Tanuzet, maybe?”

She sensed his intrigue, his head drifting closer. You can hear the others as well?

“I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t tested it. The evening’s been a bit of a blur, if I’m being honest.”

Indeed it has.

“I’m a bit strange, aren’t I?”

I will admit, you surprised me when we first met. It is uncommon for those outside the Talhavar to communicate through emotional impressions unless they are of a more beastial species such as mine. I have never met another vampire, so perhaps your kin are similar?

“It’s a possibility,” she said.

When we return to the others, you should try to speak with them. Test our theory.

“I might,” she said, idly running her claws through the tangles in her hair.

In many ways, everyone was still a stranger to her. Thus far, she’d been an obligation, a burden thrust into their lives. Something and someone wholly other to them and if they were going to be stuck with one another for the foreseeable future, she wanted to change that. Beyond politeness and pleasantries. What she needed were companions, people she could trust beyond their duty to keep her out of harm’s way.

Her chest ached. She wished Alaric were with her. He had always had her back, and she his. She wondered if he had remained with Vidaar and Nan, as she’d asked, or run off into the deepwoods to find her. Spirits, she wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. Tears rose in her eyes, their warmth a stark contrast to the chill night air.

Ephaxus offered a low, comforting rumble as he rested his head behind her in the shallows. She found solace in his presence, in the sympathy he shared. It was a strange thing, to find familiarity in such a frightening creature. She dared to lean back against him.

“Sorry I punched you,” she murmured.

He chuckled. It was a good hit. You’re strong, for one so small.

“I’m a child compared to the others, but with you, I’m no better than a field mouse.”

A mouse, he mused. Perhaps that is what I shall call you.

“Ayduin already calls me Red. At this point, what’s another nickname?” She sighed.

As if on cue, she heard Ayduin call, “Are you two still alive down there?”

Inerys made to stand, mindful of the slippery stones beneath her toes. “We’ll be there in a moment!”

She heard the other woman snort. “Be quick about it! The sun will be up soon.”

The sun.

Right.

She may have forgotten about that little detail. To be fair, she hadn’t seen it in more than a week. When she wasn’t out in the aviary during the night, she’d been cooped up in her windowless room in the Talhavar base. They hadn’t allowed her outside until the sun had been lost to the horizon and shooed her back inside before it had a chance to rise.

She wondered if this special tent of theirs would work.

Creeping toward the bank and her stack of clothes, she shook the excess water from her hair. She patted her skin with her new trousers as much as she dared, allowing the rest to air dry before slipping into her new garb. All the while, Ephaxus kept her concealed. Once she was decent, she blew out a breath.

“Shall we?” She asked.