subsided and drained away in multiple twisting rivulets, released from Elia’s power.
“That… was… was… insane! Wonderful! Fantastic! It… I…” Gribly talked too fast and had to pause for breath. Bending over, he sat down on the ice, shaking from sheer excitement. Elia walked over to him and helped him up again. She was smiling and back in her nymph form, pale-skinned and dressed in blue.
“It is what I live for,” She told him. Her voice was evidently the last thing to change back to normal, which it did mid-sentence.
“Incredible,” came a worried voice behind them, “But we don’t have time for frivolity.” Lauro hovered above them, slowly kicking his feet to stay in the air. “The draiks are right behind us.”
Gribly turned and saw the creatures line the cliff. Three massive draiks larger than the one he’d killed at the Arches lined the cliff opposite their position.
“Three…” Elia mused. “One’s missing. At least four have been hunting me since I last left home… and this iceberg, however it got here so sudden…”
“No time!” Lauro almost screeched. “Come on !” he dropped heavily to the ice and stumbled a little. When he had recovered, he beckoned again, and the Sand Strider and Wind Strider followed him up the snowy hill and deeper into the Berg.
“It’s… too… close,” Gribly gasped as he forced his aching, tired body into a run. “They’ll… catch us… at this rate… in minutes…”
“Maybe… not,” Elia contradicted. “If we can reach… the old Tribe Circle… we… might have a chance…”
“Wha…?”
“Have… idea…” she gulped past the rushing air as they fled. Gribly grinned wryly as Lauro moved behind them to boost their speed with his wind striding.
“Your ideas… are going to save us… or… kill us…”
Elia smiled in the dark next to him, and kept on running.
Chapter Five: What Bernarl Saw
Nymphs were hard to kill. Zain were even harder. And of all the strongest Zain, the hardest to kill was Captain Bernarl of the Mirrorwave .
It was a full day and half the next night before he pulled himself out of the churning waves of the Inkwell and onto an iceberg several miles from the wreck of his ship. He had been lucky enough to fall straight to the water when the Ice Demon had first picked up the trireme, and had been swimming underwater ever since. Hauling himself up onto the ice and springing up into a fighting stance, Berne checked for any immediate threats. When none presented themselves, he walked slowly forward up the snowy ground of the Berg, contemplating his near-miraculous escape.
What few of the Zain and even less of the outside world knew was that not all of the southern sea-nymph tribe had lost their ability to Change. Berne’s father had been able to shape-shift between an elfin form and a wispy, steam-shrouded body he had called his Ghost Form. None but his closest family had known it, and when his father had married a Treele girl from the northern waters it guaranteed that Berne would be able to Change as well. He could, though his Other Form took more after his mother’s than his father’s… a fact he was grateful for now.
“Not so easy to snip the thread on me,” he muttered defiantly as he climbed the ever-steepening snow-hill. It was an expression born of an ancient belief that one of the Aura determined who lived and who died by snipping purple threads.
Yes, it was not so easy to kill a Zain.
Berne reached the top of the hill and looked out over the cliffs of ice that stretched up into the night sky above him. No one and nothing seemed to be about, so he tramped cautiously down the other side. His uniform scratched painfully at his Other Form’s watery skin, but he hadn’t had time to do
“That… was… was… insane! Wonderful! Fantastic! It… I…” Gribly talked too fast and had to pause for breath. Bending over, he sat down on the ice, shaking from sheer excitement. Elia walked over to him and helped him up again. She was smiling and back in her nymph form, pale-skinned and dressed in blue.
“It is what I live for,” She told him. Her voice was evidently the last thing to change back to normal, which it did mid-sentence.
“Incredible,” came a worried voice behind them, “But we don’t have time for frivolity.” Lauro hovered above them, slowly kicking his feet to stay in the air. “The draiks are right behind us.”
Gribly turned and saw the creatures line the cliff. Three massive draiks larger than the one he’d killed at the Arches lined the cliff opposite their position.
“Three…” Elia mused. “One’s missing. At least four have been hunting me since I last left home… and this iceberg, however it got here so sudden…”
“No time!” Lauro almost screeched. “Come on !” he dropped heavily to the ice and stumbled a little. When he had recovered, he beckoned again, and the Sand Strider and Wind Strider followed him up the snowy hill and deeper into the Berg.
“It’s… too… close,” Gribly gasped as he forced his aching, tired body into a run. “They’ll… catch us… at this rate… in minutes…”
“Maybe… not,” Elia contradicted. “If we can reach… the old Tribe Circle… we… might have a chance…”
“Wha…?”
“Have… idea…” she gulped past the rushing air as they fled. Gribly grinned wryly as Lauro moved behind them to boost their speed with his wind striding.
“Your ideas… are going to save us… or… kill us…”
Elia smiled in the dark next to him, and kept on running.
Chapter Five: What Bernarl Saw
Nymphs were hard to kill. Zain were even harder. And of all the strongest Zain, the hardest to kill was Captain Bernarl of the Mirrorwave .
It was a full day and half the next night before he pulled himself out of the churning waves of the Inkwell and onto an iceberg several miles from the wreck of his ship. He had been lucky enough to fall straight to the water when the Ice Demon had first picked up the trireme, and had been swimming underwater ever since. Hauling himself up onto the ice and springing up into a fighting stance, Berne checked for any immediate threats. When none presented themselves, he walked slowly forward up the snowy ground of the Berg, contemplating his near-miraculous escape.
What few of the Zain and even less of the outside world knew was that not all of the southern sea-nymph tribe had lost their ability to Change. Berne’s father had been able to shape-shift between an elfin form and a wispy, steam-shrouded body he had called his Ghost Form. None but his closest family had known it, and when his father had married a Treele girl from the northern waters it guaranteed that Berne would be able to Change as well. He could, though his Other Form took more after his mother’s than his father’s… a fact he was grateful for now.
“Not so easy to snip the thread on me,” he muttered defiantly as he climbed the ever-steepening snow-hill. It was an expression born of an ancient belief that one of the Aura determined who lived and who died by snipping purple threads.
Yes, it was not so easy to kill a Zain.
Berne reached the top of the hill and looked out over the cliffs of ice that stretched up into the night sky above him. No one and nothing seemed to be about, so he tramped cautiously down the other side. His uniform scratched painfully at his Other Form’s watery skin, but he hadn’t had time to do
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