James Davis - The Restless Shore

She pulled away from the living shore, turning to see Brindani lying on his back, his black glassy eyes reflecting the light of the stars as he quietly gasped for air, surrounded by pulsing red flowers. He was trying to speak. Uthalion and Vaasurri were gone, and the campfire burned with a green light that rolled and wavered slowly, as if underwater.

Beside the fire she saw her sword, its heavy blade shining dully in the light. A dripping coat of blood covered it and pooled around the point. Crawling closer, Ghaelya reached out for the hilt and paused, her hands covered in blood as well. She tried to wipe it away to no avail; her fingertips dripped crimson on the ground and each drop sprouted small red blooms. The little flowers spread, leading her eyes in a long string to the shoreline, where she found the familiar bright eyes, bursting with fleshy red flowers watching her. A blue-black silhouette lounged half on the sand, half in the water.

“Tess?” she asked, leaning forward and squinting in the green light of the fire. “I’m coming, Tess. I’ll find you!”

The silhouette slowly withdrew into the tide until only its crimson eyes were visible among the waves. The tiny, writhing figures in the sand bent their bodies toward the figure in the water, their red mouths open wide and their whispering voices joining the haunting song.

“Can you hear the song, sister?” Tessaeril asked from the water.

“I can! I can hear the song!” Ghaelya answered, shouting as the song grew louder. “Is it you? Are you singing?”

“Did you bring your sword?” Tessaeril asked.

“I did,” Ghaelya replied and glanced at the weapon as if in a trance. The blood on its blade began to spread into the green fire, hissing as a sweet scent rose in thin tendrils of smoke, “But it’s covered in blood.”

“It’s always blood,” Tessaeril answered, her eyes disappearing in the depths of the Mere. “One way or another, always.”

Ghaelya turned to Brindani. Hearing his words repeated by her sister sent chills down her arms, and she shuddered. But the half-elf was gone, replaced by a growing mound of pulsing flowers whose crimson nectar ran freely into the sand and mingled with the surf.

12 Mirtul, the Year of the Ageless One

(1479 DR)

Ruins of Tohrepur, Akanul

Uthalion stood on the edge of the highland, the sun rising behind him as he stared thoughtfully to the glittering west. On that horizon stood a forest of crystalline spires, and in the shadow of that forest lay Tohrepur. A void had settled uncomfortably in his thoughts; the time between falling asleep and waking up was like an empty space, as if he’d been plucked from sunset and placed at the following sunrise with no regard for the normal course of time. He felt out of place, and as Ghaelya crested the edge of the hill, her eyes and boots fixed on the west, his place seemed taken away.

He was no longer a guide, though there was still work to do.

Brindani crawled into the highland grass as if he were a dead man crawling from his own grave. Indeed, he had begun to very much look the part. Though he appeared stronger and calmer after last night’s attack, he was too pale, almost bloodless as he shied away from the sun. He pulled his cloak tight and trudged along in Ghaelya’s wake. He said nothing, sparing Uthalion a slight glance from his over-large and heavy-lidded eyes that were nearly swallowed by blackness.

Uthalion had considered Chevat’s last words to him and wondered if the burden of such a mercy now rested on his blade. It was obvious that silkroot was the least of Brindani’s afflictions, and though it pained him to see the deterioration of the half-elf, the simple fact remained that Brindani could prove useful. They knew nothing of the Choir save that it seemed to be some kind of infection, likely sorcerous, and Brindani’s condition could provide them with answers. He felt ashamed, looking upon his old friend as mere fodder, but the shame of a meaningless death seemed a far worse fate.

Vaasurri stayed close behind the half-elf with a wary eye and a ready blade. Should the killoren sense any sudden change or betrayal, he would finish Brindani’s suffering quickly. Uthalion adjusted his sword belt, whispered a curse to any god that would allow such a killing to become necessary, and took up the rear.

The short journey was uneventful and eerily quiet, save for the distant rumbling of thunder across the Lash. No birds disturbed the sparse trees, and the wildflowers competed for the few pollinating insects that drifted near. It seemed as though nature held its breath as Uthalion passed, wondering if the returning human would somehow unleash another dark storm of chaos.

By midday the ruins came into view.

The silhouette of the city was long and sprawling, a collection of packed buildings, high walls, and narrow streets perched on the steep edge of the former shoreline. Its ancient seas, once teeming with fish and livelihood, were just a dry rocky slope. The swirling storms of the Lash rolled and crashed teasingly, like an ocean turned upside down, a tide across the sky.

A thick, deep green carpet of silky grass rippled around their boots like water, the tip of each blade disappearing in a tendril of smoky mist. Uthalion recalled a soup made from the grass, bowls of the stuff having been offered by the disconcertingly kind citizens of Tohrepur as he’d marched behind the banner of the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign. They’d made use of the people’s unusual hospitality, and within moments Uthalion had found himself standing guard outside a small shop. Inside, the Keepers had interrogated a young boy, painful and terrifying roars that should have come from a far more monstrous creature shaking the windows and walls as the suddenly quiet and blank-faced population dropped whatever they were doing to gather around the interlopers.

A sudden chill tore Uthalion from the memory, and he looked upon the ruins the city had become. Rusted gates of worked iron hung loose and tangled with vines that roped and snaked across every surface. Deep cracks marked the crumbling walls, filled with more of the encroaching green vines. The mist-grass lapped at the city walls, giving it the impression of an island trapped in an emerald sea. Multi-colored flashes of light glittered from the tall forest of spires that pressed down against the southern end of the ruins.

Ghaelya stood at the gates, fearlessly tugging at the protesting hinges. Uthalion and the others rushed to keep up with the genasi lest they lose her in the labyrinthine streets. The image of her fighting to get in struck him as horrific given that she had fought so hard to escape the grasp of those who might have brought her to the same gates. He had a sudden urge to pull her away and shake the mad gleam from her eyes, but knew the effort would be wasted-she might have cut him down just as quickly as anything else that stood in her way.

He let her slip through the gates without a word, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into the familiar cobblestone streets beyond. As Brindani entered behind her, he laid a hand upon the gate. A thin web of nearly transparent skin stretched between the half-elf’s long fingers. Uthalion shared a horrified glance with Vaasurri and placed a hand on his sword as an ominous wind howled down the narrow avenue.

Cursing quietly and catching his breath, Uthalion pulled the rusted gate wider and entered the ruins.

Ghaelya stepped cautiously over vines and broken stones, turning as if she expected monsters to come pouring from every shadow and crevice. Though nothing appeared, she drew her sword anyway, descending down the empty lane of hollowed buildings, wide-eyed and tense with every careful step. Twisting vine-trees grew through cracks in the street, swaying hypnotically alongside the seaweedlike greenery that choked the walls and slowly squeezed them into dust. Old stone was weathered and discolored, and shafts of shimmering light played upon every surface and shone into every open doorway. Dragonflies hovered in flashing swarms of silver, darting one way, then the next, disappearing into windows curtained in green.