Kerry Schafer - Wakeworld

“Of course I don’t want him to die. There’s nothing to be done.”

“I can help him, if you will allow,” the giant said.

Vivian’s eyes met Zee’s. She knew nothing useful about the giants, wasn’t at all certain if they were to be trusted.

“Why would you do this?”

“I am a healer, and there is no need for his death. Besides, his sister has lived among us now for years and I owe her a blood debt. Before we marched, she said to me that I should watch for her brother, lest his fate had brought him here at last.”

“Please,” Vivian said. “If you can. But he is very far gone.”

The giant reached into a pocket and brought out a small vial of black fluid. She opened Weston’s mouth with one hand and tapped a single drop onto his tongue.

“So Grace isn’t angry with him?”

“She is deeply remorseful about something of which she will not speak. She has said nothing of anger.”

Weston drew a deep breath and sighed. Already his color was better, his breath regular and even. His forehead cooled beneath Vivian’s hand.

She turned from him then and focused all of her will on the Black Gates. They responded to her thoughts, to her need, and began to swing together. There was no sound, no ceremonial clang as they closed, not so much as a whisper, but she felt the moment reverberate through her body with inalterable finality.

“The Gates have closed!” Zee said. “We need to follow that dragon. How do we open them again? Where is the Key?”

“Gone.” Vivian’s voice echoed inside her head, empty of all of the dragons, all of them gone where she could not follow.

“What do you mean, gone?”

“It was absorbed when I unlocked them. They are sealed tight now.”

“The Key was made to be used but once,” the giant said. “It would not work again, even should you find it.”

“There has to be another way,” Zee said, and then he caught sight of her face. “Vivian? You did this on purpose?”

She managed to get to her feet. “She had to be contained, Zee. She wants to destroy everything. This way, at least her damage is limited.”

The giant’s broad face had gone pale, if such a thing were possible, and she shook her head. “Truly, you do not know about the Forever.”

“No, truly I do not. So tell me.”

“All things begin and end there. If she destroys all things in the Forever, the Dreamworlds will follow, and then the waking worlds because all must dream or they will die.”

Darkness crowded in, buzzing in Vivian’s brain. The choice had seemed so right.

“Still, she is, as you say, contained,” the giant went on. “It will take time for her to overpower the King in Forever. And there may be another way in. My people would have records.”

“Can you take us to your people then?”

The giant shook her head. “My life was forfeit the moment I broke ranks and came to you. If I go back, I die.”

“But we have to get in. Without letting her out.” Vivian walked over to the Gates and put her hand against the stone. No more vibration or hum, but the stone recognized her touch and responded like a living thing. It wanted her but was bound by the old spells.

“Perhaps it is time to pay a visit to the sorcieri,” the giant said.

“Could they open the Gates?”

“They were involved in the making of the Key. Nobody remembers how. If you can persuade them to help—”

“Vivian, no,” Zee said. “Think about it. Remember Jehenna. Like she would have been of help?”

“All dragons aren’t the same. Or all giants either, it appears. So maybe . . .” She realized what she was saying as the words left her mouth. Right. A kinder, gentler sorceress. Not very likely.

She felt drained and vulnerable and tired, and the problem was so much bigger than she was. Way back in medical school when things got overwhelming she’d invented a slogan for herself: Just start somewhere, and take it from there. Do the first thing you can do, and then the next. Time to follow her own advice.

“First thing, we’re taking Weston back to Wakeworld. He’s been through enough.”

“I have not ever been to Wakeworld, but I will go with him,” the giant said. “I owe a life debt to his sister.”

“He’ll love that,” Zee said. “And what will you do, Dreamshifter?” His agate eyes were unshuttered for once, and she saw all that lay behind the single question.

Vivian got to her feet and stood facing him, almost but not quite touching. So much between them, and she didn’t know how to bridge the chasm. But her inner dragon was dead, and that was one problem solved, a tenuous bridge on which to build.

Just start somewhere, and take it from there.

“Well, Warrior, I was thinking about this,” she said, and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Their lips touched, clung, light as a feather caress. He did not pull away, or respond, but stood perfectly still, neither drawing back nor moving into an embrace.

But beneath her hands on his chest his heart beat fast. She deepened the kiss and felt the tension break as his arms came round her and lifted her off her feet, crushing her against him. His lips claimed hers, soul deep, then wandered to her hair, her eyelids, the curve of her chin.

“This isn’t really an answer to anything,” he murmured between kisses.

“But it’s an excellent question.”

The giant broke the moment. “If the two of you are quite done, you might wish to see this.”

Warm and sheltered in Zee’s arms and feeling like nothing could ever threaten her again, Vivian turned her head.

A solitary dragon had landed. He was small, not much bigger than a draft horse. His left wing drooped a little, as if something in it were broken, and black blood oozed from a tear in his side. He leaned his head against the stone of the closed Gates and gave a mournful cry that twisted Vivian’s heart.

All the softness left Zee’s body. She felt the change in his heartbeat, could feel the adrenaline burst harden his muscles. As his hand went to the hilt of his sword, she covered it with her own and looked up into his face, recoiling from the hate that shone in his eyes.

“He’s just a baby.”

“He’ll grow.”

The little dragon cried again, with a wail of absolute despair at being left behind. In response, Vivian felt a small spark of answering dragon in her belly and knew that her own dragon wasn’t quite dead after all.

“He’s hurt, Zee. And all alone.”

She saw the hatred in his eyes shift to loss and grief as he acknowledged once again all that she was. And then, as she was about to turn from him with a heart so heavy she feared it would break, he smiled. It was a flash of pure joy, utterly unexpected and all the more beautiful for that.

“You,” he said, and the love in his voice outweighed the pain in her heart. “If you found a wounded slime toad, you’d want to help it. I kill, you heal. Perhaps there is a balance after all.”

Once more she kissed him, then turned to what must be done.

The dragon hissed when she approached, but he was too young yet to flame. Reaching for the spark of dragon that had flickered briefly in response to his cry, she sent into his mind, You are not alone, little brother. I am here. She looked over her shoulder at the others and added, We are all here. And all will yet be well.

Kerry Schaferlives in the town of Colville, Washington, with her family, which includes two cats, a rescue fish, and a preternaturally large black dog. A self-styled perpetual student, she earned an RN from Royal Alexandra Hospital in Edmonton, Alberta; an Honours BA in English from York University in Toronto, Ontario; and an M.Ed. in counseling psychology from Washington State University. Visit her online at kerryschafer.com and facebook.com/KerrySchaferBooks.