The Dragon’s Daughter and the Winter Mage by Jeffe Kennedy

~ 9 ~

She was getting seriously tired of this shit. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Don’t sleep. Don’t eat the yummy fish. Swim, swim, swim. Her side ached where the harpoon had lodged, its barbs preventing it from falling out, though she’d broken off the longer shaft on a submerged rock outcropping. Swim, swim, swim.

Swim swan, over the sea, swim swan, swim…

What was that? Oh, yes—she’d learned that along with her cousins in lessons on reading Common Tongue. She could picture them in a classroom, sitting with her, their brown hair all alike, along with other kids, all taking turns reading aloud. Why could she remember that and not her own name?

It doesn’t matter, just keep swimming. Don’t sleep. Don’t eat the yummy fish.

But why not?

She knew she’d had a reason, but she couldn’t remember it. The fish looked very yummy indeed, and she was so hungry. And weak. She really didn’t feel good at all. So cold. So tired. She was also supposed to be looking for something, but she didn’t know what anymore. It was lonely in the dark. Shouldn’t there be other whales? But she’d sounded and sounded, to no reply. All alone.

“Briar Rose?”

A voice in her head… how odd. Not another whale sounding. Perhaps her thoughts circling loudly, banging against the inside of her own skull. So tired.

“Briar Rose!”the voice called more loudly. “Are you there? Please answer me.”

Hmm. This was very odd. The voice seemed to be familiar, but not her own. Could it be a trap? She had a niggling feeling that something had been trying to stalk her, some powerful being. And then there were the hunters who’d shot her with the harpoon. This could be one of them. Best not to answer, and perhaps it would go away. She kind of liked the name, though. Like a faerie princess.

“Briar Rose, answer me. I feel you down there. You’re tired and hurting and hungry. I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t know who you are,”she replied reluctantly as it seemed it wouldn’t leave her alone until she did.

“I’m Isyn, your friend.”The voice was filled with relief. “I was worried that you couldn’t answer.”

She decided not to say anything to that. She wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant, except for this feeling that she should remember more than she did.

“I think I can help you,”the Isyn voice said. “But you’ll have to surface at the fishing hole.”

Oh ho! Now the creature’s strategy came clear. “I don’t wish to be murdered today, thank you very much,” she replied tartly.

A ghost of a mental laugh caressed her. “You’re still you. I promise not to hurt you. I’m alone. There are no hunters. Come up and see? If I’m lying, you can swim away.”

Grudgingly, and admittedly curious, she swam upward. She knew the hole the Isyn thing meant, as it was the only place to get air. Was that what she’d been looking for, more places to breathe? It didn’t sound right.

Above, it was brighter, daylight filtering down through the hole. She couldn’t see much past the rim, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. Listening, she detected no sounds but of the Isyn thing. No stomping boots digging into the ice, no fresh blood swirling down from their discards.

“Briar Rose?”

“I see you tell the truth.”

The Isyn blew out a long breath. “Then here is where I need you to trust me. I’m putting a net in the water.”

“No!”The memory of panic and pain flooded her. “No nets!”

“I promise, I promise, I promise, Briar Rose—it’s only to help you. To keep you from drowning.”

She had to laugh at that. “Silly Isyn creature, whales can’t drown.”

“You can if you can’t breathe, which is what will happen if the ice seals over.”

Going quiet at that, she wondered how the Isyn knew about the ice and breathing. Over and over, she’d had to break the forming ice with her head, cutting and bruising herself. “I don’t understand how a net helps me breathe,” she finally said.

“Because you weren’t always a whale. You’re a human, too. I can help you be human again, but then I’ll have to pull you out of the water quickly. I need the net’s help.”

“This is a very odd tale.”

The Isyn’s mental laugh was dry, and she found herself liking it. “Believe me, I am in absolute agreement there. Let me show you the net. You’ll see that it’s not anywhere big or strong enough to hold you as a whale. It’s only for your human self.”

“Show me the net.”Just in case, she swam a distance away. A puny web of ropes fell into the water, shimmering golden with the light from above. “Pretty.”

“Thank you. I wanted you to like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be afraid of it. So you would swim into it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Briar Rose, please, you have to. Just try. You can always swim away again.”

She was torn. Part of her believed it and in fact wanted to try this game that appealed to some sense of fancy in her. A more powerful instinct remembered the hunters and warned her away. Fancy or instinct? She wished she had other whales to confer with. Always alone…

That was what decided her. She was tired of only fish for company, of being alone in the dark water. The Isyn at least amused her. It had made a pretty net for her. “I’ll try,” she finally allowed.

Isyn went dizzywith relief. Well, that and no sleep on top of prodigious magic use. Weaving the golden net hadn’t been easy, but Briar Rose was already so far gone into the whale mind that he was glad he hadn’t waited even hours longer. Besides which, by now Jasperina and his other keepers might have penetrated the illusion he’d left to cover his absence.

The orca moved in the water below, her black shape a quicksilver shadow. Still wary—and who could blame her? He stayed silent, listening for her, but not giving in to the urge to prod her along. A brush of the net should do it. The trick would be hauling the human woman out of the water before she succumbed to the cold.

So he lay flat on the ice, hoping the leverage would be enough. At least he had plenty of upper body strength still. He was much better when he wasn’t teetering on one leg.

She passed by again, closer now. Come on, Briar Rose, he silently urged, keeping the thought close and quiet. Trust me. I’ll help you. I promise.

Though it obviously made no difference, he held his breath and remained still, as if coaxing prey into his net. She passed by a third time, shallower still, nosing the net as she did.

And he poured his remaining magic through, heightening and deepening the enchantment he’d worked into the golden threads, praying to Moranu, the goddess of shapeshifters, to aid them both. Briar Rose’s whale body convulsed in the water, a strangled human scream tearing from the orca’s throat, disconcerting and heartrending. This was no awakening with a kiss. “Hold on, Briar Rose!” he shouted. “Stay with me!”

He scraped the bottom of his soul for all the magery in him, giving it to her as her form flickered through a hundred shapes, so fast it rattled his own sense of self and reality. “Human,” he urged. “You know the way, Briar Rose. Wake yourself.”

And there she was, a human woman, the one from his dreams, barely conscious, barely clinging to the net. “Briar Rose! Hold on. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t have her, not at all, but this was the make-or-break moment. Steeling himself against the icy water, he plunged his arms down, seizing her by one slender wrist and hauling her out with all the strength he had. It was a near thing, with her sodden weight plus the net pulling him down. Fortunately, he’d learned more than a few things from ice fishing, and he’d used water to freeze his clothing to the ice, providing something of an anchor.

Also, he’d expected her to be naked—because a whale wasn’t dressed, after all—but she wore quite a lot of clothing, including an oiled canvas coat he recognized as being of Erie make. He gritted his teeth, holding on with all his might, at least able to release the magic drain now. She looked up at him, indigo eyes huge in her pale face, and his heart lurched. Something clicked inside, and he felt like he’d been waiting for her all his life.

And it was too fucking late for him. Ah, the bitter irony.

“Don’t let go,” she told him, teeth chattering.

“Never,” he vowed, and pulled.

It took some doing, but between them, they managed it, both drenched by the end of it, their clothing and the entangling net freezing rigid and bonding to the ice as they lay on it in an exhausted sprawl. “We can’t stay here,” he muttered, unable to summon the will to move. “I brought you dry clothes. You need to change into them.”

She lifted her head, wrinkling her nose as her long hair, frozen to the ice, pulled. “I can do one better.” She disappeared, an incongruous small jewel-bright hummingbird in her place—a fantasy of a bird he hadn’t seen since his youth—and then she was there again, dry and bundled in furs. “Let’s get you into those warm clothes instead.” She pushed to her feet with surprising vigor, no longer pale, eyes bright as she surveyed the barren landscape. “How does the sled move?”

“It moved with my magic,” he told her. “And I’ve got nothing left. I’m afraid you’ll have to walk.”

“I may have a solution for moving the sled, but we need to get you in it. I’m strong, but I don’t think I can carry you. You’ll have to work with me.” She crouched to help him sit up, the fabric of his coat hissing as she ripped it from the ice with surprising strength. She paused, holding his gaze. “Thank you,” she said, with her simple earnestness that gave resonance to every word she spoke. “You literally saved my life and my sanity.”

He smiled back at her, this kindred soul, feeling the warmth of real emotion for the first time in forever. “You’re welcome. And you have to leave me here.”

Her answering smile dropped like a rock, disappearing into the black hole of frozen sea. “I am not doing that.”

“I planned it this way,” he told her, trying to drum up a reassuring smile. “I’m old and done for. Freezing is a gentle way to go, and I’m not afraid of death.” In truth, he was far more afraid of continuing to live as he had been.

“You are hardly on your deathbed,” she replied crisply. “And I realize we barely know one another, but I am not the kind of person who leaves anyone behind, least of all a good person who risked his life to save mine.”

“I’ll only hold you back,” he insisted, searching for a way to convince her. “I used up everything in me with this conjuring, and it was worth it. Far better than saving myself for more of this life I’ve been leading. I can’t walk, and you can’t carry me, but you can make it to land and survive.”

“Isyn, I have no intention of—” Her lovely eyes went wide. “Isyn. I know who you are now. I just came from Castle Marcellum, where I met your parents, and Wim and Marjie.”

He grappled with that information, confused—and wondered if her brain addling might be affecting her still. But… she knew his siblings’ names, and their nicknames. “Which of them ended up on the throne?” he asked, which wasn’t the most important question at the moment, but it was what he could grasp. It was hard to imagine them as old as he when they remained forever in their early twenties in his mind.

“They haven’t decided yet. They might rule together. Let’s get you in the sled.”

“No, leave me.”

“Not going to happen. You can die in the sled if you’re so determined to.”

He huffed out a laugh and put his arm around her as she slipped her shoulder under him to support the bad side. Fighting her would be foolishness. And she was strong. Tall and steady. She had a gentle touch, too, taking small steps to lead him to the sled. She smelled good, like tropical flowers and warm sunshine, her tumbling hair silky against his hand, her long, lean body hot against his side. The urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. He needed to distract himself from her intoxicating effect. “How can there be no one on the throne of Erie?” he wondered aloud.

“Your parents, King Cavan and Queen Nix, are still alive,” she answered. “It’s only been a few months since you left after all.”

He stumbled—nearly falling on his face on the ice—but she deftly caught him, her full breast pressing into his chest. “Careful, there,” she warned. “A fall is the last thing you need.”

That sounded like something you’d say to your grandpa. Which was probably how he seemed to her. Not moving, he held on to her as he stared into the distance, trying to understand. “Briar Rose, I left Erie almost fifty years ago.”

She didn’t say anything right away, so he risked a glance at her. Was that pity in her gorgeous eyes?

“I know that sounds hard to believe, but—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Keep moving. It’s not hard to believe at all. You’re in an alter-realm, and time moves differently from one to the next. We’ve guessed that it happens, but this is the most extreme example so far. I promise you, Isyn—in our world, you’ve only been gone a few months.”

A few months. He’d lived a lifetime in that time. The knowledge ground him down, the sheer futility of it all. A life wasted on ice and dead fish. “I wish you would just leave me here to die.”

“Are you always this morose—or is it just the bad news?”

“You’re direct.”

“Yes, pretty much always. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I prefer direct. And having been trapped in this place has not been conducive to optimism,” he remarked, bearing down on the pain. Nearly to the sled.

“Well, you’ve been rescued now,” she informed him cheerfully, easing him into the sled. “Things are looking up.”

“Did I miss a dramatic rescue?”

“I feel like I need a more intense word than ‘morose.’ Gloomy?”

Why she made him want to laugh, he didn’t know, but she looked delighted that she had. Tucking the fur blankets around him that he’d brought for her, she gave him a warm smile. “My friends will absolutely be coming soon. One is a sorceress who’s been perfecting opening portals into the alter-realms. They’ll find us, and we can go home. Is there a harness for this thing?”

Bemused, he opened the compartment in the console with the ropes the folk looped around their chests so they could lean into pulling the sleds. “You’re strong,” he said doubtfully, “but I doubt you’re strong enough to pull the sled with me in it by yourself. You should leave—”

“If you tell me to leave you here to die one more time, I’m going to smack you.” She looked at him expectantly, and the words died on his lips. Had he ever met anyone like her? No, he absolutely hadn’t. And it killed him that it was too late.

“Good,” she said, satisfied. Briefly, she caressed his cheek, then looked abashed. “You can be forgiven for a bit of fatalism. Decades in this place would drive anyone to despair. And you’ve forgotten I’m a shapeshifter. Once I shift, drop the harness over my head and chest, would you?”

Maybe all of this was a dream, and he was asleep in his bed. Just another version of the whale woman’s visitation. Going along with it, he nodded.

She stood there and blinked at him. If her face hadn’t suddenly crumpled into an expression of profound despair, he wouldn’t have realized anything had happened. Or, rather, hadn’t happened. “Oh, Rose,” he said. “You can’t shift now?”

“Of course I can’t,” she bit out, then gave him a weak smile to show she wasn’t angry at him. “I’m an idiot. Just because you were able to force me to shift out of orca form didn’t restore my shapeshifting ability. Apparently I had just enough left in me to shift to dry clothes, but that was all your magery.” Though her smile remained, sorrow haunted her eyes. “I suppose it’s human form for me.”

“Well, then,” he said, moving to throw off the blankets, “we’ll walk.”

“With that leg? Think again. I can pull this sled.”

“I know you’re strong, but you have that injury from the harpoon.”

“Oh, I healed that when I shifted.”

He took a moment to absorb that. “That’s a useful ability.”

“Yes”—she wrinkled her nose—“except I’m going to have to learn to go without the trick. Nevertheless, I’m fine to pull the sled.”

“It still seems like too much.”

“Not much choice, is there? At least the physical effort will warm me up.” She took the ropes from him and wrapped them around herself. They didn’t fit well on her long, tall body, but with some impressive knotwork, she made them work. “Your people aren’t very tall, are they?”

“Ah, no.” He realized she might be in for a surprise. “I should warn you that—”

“I’m resilient,” she promised with a jaunty wink. “And cold. You can tell me later.” She put her back into it and began trudging along, pulling the sled slowly.

By the time he’d have an opportunity to tell her about the folk, she’d have seen them for herself, and there’d be nothing more to say. Ah well. With no choice but to be taken there, Isyn sat back and wondered what the reaction of the folk would be to their new guest. Exhaustion catching up with him, he fought to stay awake. But the rhythmic tread of her steps, the soothing hiss of the sled runners over ice, and the lovely warmth of the furs soon lulled him, and he slipped into darkness.