Seamark, page 12
Auban. Auban was here, and he was … he was …
Morgan fought to open his eyes, finally managing the tiniest of slits. It was dark, wherever they were, but there was enough light for him to make out the outline of the head above him. It had a shock of red hair and was mottled here and there with burn scars. It also had a long pair of curving horns, a muzzle full of sharp teeth, and blue eyes so bright they glowed in the dark.
“Auban,” Morgan whispered wonderingly. He tried to lift his hand toward his lover’s face, but the pain in his abdomen stopped him.
“Easy, my darling. My sweet.” Auban touched him very gently on the forehead with the tip of his snout. “I’m here. You’re going to be all right now.”
“I know.” How could he not be? He was alive, if in more and more pain the more he woke up, and his mate was here with him. His beautiful, dangerous, dragonish mate.
Whatever spirit had blessed Morgan with this fate, he could only hope he proved worthy of it.
“Auban.” This time, Morgan did manage to reach his lover’s face. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter twenty-four
To be honest, the easiest thing about it all was learning that Auban was a dragon. That made a lot more sense than Morgan being fated to bond with a human. Plus, the way he was always warmer than he ought to be, given that he was sleeping out in the open next to the sea, and how he’d healed despite the massive number of burns on his body—apparently humans got things called infections, which was when their bodies seemed to fight against themselves after taking wounds.
Not to mention his incredible beauty despite his wounds, his grace, his glorious spirit, and the way their souls seemed to speak together … no, Auban being a dragon was absolutely perfect.
It was everything else that was insane.
“He what?”
“Sariel apparently came back to himself at the first sound of the cannons,” Auban explained. “His wife was so astonished, she didn’t even try to stop him when he ran out of the house and began coordinating an evacuation. It’s thanks to him that none of the children were lost, for certain; but I’m afraid that over half the homes of your villagers have taken damage.
“Once he got people moving to the far side of the island, he leapt into the water just in time to save Garen.”
Morgan frowned. “What was wrong with Garen?”
“He got tangled in the lead lines on the ship as it began to sink,” Auban replied, looking as shamefaced as a bright-red dragon could. “I, um, I didn’t expect to do quite as much damage as I did when I breathed my fire across their vessel. It exploded rather viciously and spread debris far and wide. Garen was struggling, but his father managed to find him and free him before he was dragged too deep.”
“That’s incredible.” Garen must be so happy. Or … “And is Sariel still … present in his mind now?”
“He is,” Auban said. “And he’s not pleased that I’m here, that’s for sure.”
Morgan tried to sit up, then hissed with pain. “How dare he?” he said through gritted teeth. “You saved all of our lives!”
“Be that as it may, I can’t blame him,” Auban said, and he certainly did sound very forgiving. “The poor soul was lost in his mind for over a decade, and when he comes back to himself, he’s confronted with the same nightmare he’d just left, only with an outsider who isn’t even a member of his clan flying around spreading fire everywhere. It’s a lot to take in.”
So it was. Speaking of taking things in … the last thing Morgan remembered was coming back to him now. “I saw the outline of a dragon in the water coming to rescue me,” he said, then gave his best attempt at a leer for Auban. It was a very weak one, but the warm look his lover gave him made Morgan feel accomplished. “Was it you?”
“Ah … no.” Auban shook his head. “I’m no good in the water when I’m in my dragon form, and my human one … well, my strength wouldn’t have been enough to save you, and I didn’t even know where you were when I was rampaging. I’m sorry for that,” he added, a remorseful shine coming into his eyes. “I should have taken better care.”
“How could you possibly have taken better care?” Morgan demanded. “You did everything you could, you—you fought through a mental fog that prevented you from remembering your own past to regain your dragon form for me! I don’t blame you for anything, darling.” He risked snuggling a little deeper into Auban’s coils and was pleased when he ended up feeling only a little tinge in his abdomen. “So who saved me then?”
“Who else? Brevaer, of course.”
“Brev—Brevaer!” Suddenly Morgan’s sense of relaxation evaporated like mist, and he tried to sit up—and failed, thanks to Auban very carefully holding him down, but it was a near thing and still enough effort to leave his wound stabbing with pain. “Where is Brevaer? Is he all right? Is he wounded? He would be here if he weren’t wounded; where is he? Is he going to heal soon?”
“He’s just exhausted,” Auban soothed him. “There are some small burns, yes, and a few scratches from harpoons, but he was very fortunate. And strong. Your brother is an amazing fighter. Even your chief had to admit that.”
Morgan felt cold inside. “Is he feuding with Brevaer?” For Sariel to come back to himself, only to side with Dinigan and his ilk … it would be too cruel.
Then again, Dinigan and Drenikel and their companions might not be much of a force any longer.
“He’s not feuding with him, but Sariel did tell him not to expect to be chief any time soon. Much to the pleasure of his wife,” Auban said wryly, and they shared a look of understanding. Rozyne must be thrilled to have her husband—and her status—back after so long. Thrilled, probably stunned, possibly furious that it had taken so long, but Morgan hoped that her happiness overrode her anger. He hoped that for once, she would let her rage go instead of turning it on those who she chose to blame, such as her poor son.
“What did Brev say?” Morgan asked apprehensively. His brother was wonderful in many ways, but he didn’t have much of a sense of diplomacy …
“He said he’d much rather marry the next chief than be one.”
Morgan stared at Auban. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.”
“He hadn’t even declared his intent to court Garen to Garen yet!”
“I know.”
“And he just blurted it out to his father, who probably hasn’t even wrapped his head around the fact that his son is of marriageable age yet?”
“The shouting match could be heard all the way over here,” Auban said. “Eventually, Garen had to step in and put an end to it. He told his father that he didn’t need to be so protective of him, that he was of age and could do with his life what he wanted. Then he told Brevaer that he’d better not make assumptions about what Garen really did want, and that he’d have to accept that he’s in for a long courtship if he really means it.”
Oh … it was everything Morgan had always hoped for when it came to his brother and his best friend. Intense, dramatic, full of passion and wit and ending with Brevaer dashing his boldness against the rocks of Garen’s stubbornness … “I wish I had been awake for that,” he said mournfully.
“You were busy healing a terrible wound, my love,” Auban said, and the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. “I thought for a while … The bolt went straight through you. It put holes in all sorts of important organs, including your stomach. Your healers injected a special resin into the wounds that closed the holes so they could heal naturally, but they had to go carefully one layer at a time, and … there were several moments that we thought you wouldn’t make it.” He huffed. “It doesn’t help that I’ve been stuck in this form ever since the battle.”
“Stuck in it?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps because I was unable to reach it for so long, and now my body is compensating?” Auban’s patchy mane rippled, a dragonish equivalent of a human’s shrug. “I don’t honestly remember all the details of my life as a Brindarra. I think … I think if the things I had to think about were good, I would remember them. I think perhaps my mind is shielding me from a painful past.”
“Oh.” That made an unfortunate amount of sense. “So you don’t know if you have a clan of your own to go back to?”
“Why would I go back?”
“Well … you said that Sariel hasn’t been nice to you, and now you can fly, and you’re a powerful dragon, and …”
Auban leaned down and gently flicked Morgan’s face with his tongue. “We’re mates,” he said. “We belong together. This place is your home, and now that we know I’m a dragon and not human, I think we have a good case for asking for permission to remain together here. If they don’t let us, then if we must go—which I don’t want to do—at least I’ll be powerful enough to protect you.”
“Or I’ll protect you,” Morgan said archly, but inside he was dancing at being the recipient of such a heartfelt declaration.
“And I know you would do it very well,” Auban agreed. “But I hope that you don’t have to, darling.”
A vision of the future spread out before him: one where his tribe was secure and content, where Brev and Garen were married and leading them prosperously, where Auban and Morgan were able to live in this little home of his all by themselves and make it a place where they could be safe and happy together. It was a beautiful vision, and this time the ache in Morgan’s body wasn’t just a twinge from his wound. He longed for this future.
Anything will be better than the hopelessness you faced.
True, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to work as hard as he could for what he really wanted either.
Chapter twenty-five
“What a mess you’ve made.”
Morgan kept his head demurely down, but inside he was trying not to seethe. That was a rich statement coming from someone who’d been so lost in his own mind for over a decade that he’d been unable to lead. He was glad Sariel was well again but less than happy to be the chosen sacrifice for the clan’s unity.
“A mess the likes of which this clan hasn’t seen in many years,” Sariel went on. Rozyne stood to his left, Garen to his right, both of them in their formal attire. Rozyne looked very happy with the situation while Garen looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Brevaer stood behind Morgan, a staunch and silent ally. At least Morgan had him to lean on; Auban hadn’t been allowed into the chief’s hut. “To bring someone you thought was human onto our sacred land—”
Sacred ever since we moved here, at least—
“To give them aid and kindness in the face of all their terrible acts against us—”
Yep, because too much kindness is definitely the problem here—
“To hide them from your fellows and go so far as to claim them as your mate … it’s so far-fetched that I have a hard time believing it, and yet believe it I must. There are too many witnesses who corroborate your actions.”
Witnesses who are only alive because Auban saved them. Morgan took a deep breath and looked up at his chief. Sariel was recovering from his time as a madman, but his hair was as white as the underside of a shell, and his limbs were thin and wiry in a way that seemed to defy taking on weight. Yet his eyes, which had been dazed and crazed for so long, were clear.
“If I might be allowed to speak in my defense?” he asked.
“I’m not through laying out your crimes yet,” Sariel replied. “You fought your brother, our clan’s best warrior and trainer, for the right to your illicit relationship. You only left to take your lover away once you had no choice in the matter.” He shook his head. “You gave your heart to a human. How can such a thing be borne?”
“I didn’t, though,” Morgan insisted. “Auban was never a human despite how he looked on the outside. He was only among them in an effort to protect our people from harm, which he’s done not once, but twice now! I fell in love with a member of the Brindarra, not a human. My heart recognized his suitability as my mate even if my mind didn’t.”
“Your mind didn’t seem to have much of a problem with it,” Rozyne said dryly.
“I was afflicted with terrible guilt,” Morgan replied, which was … kind of true. Mostly. A bit. “But I could no more abandon my mate than you could abandon your family. And,” he added when Sariel’s expression went from neutral to a glower, “in the end, Auban is the one who turned the tide against the humans. Without him, our people might be completely wiped out. Surely you can’t doubt his suitability as not only my mate, but one of the greatest defenders of our clan?”
Brevaer coughed lightly, a signal that Morgan was going a bit too far. He didn’t really care, though. “He fought for us when he could have stayed apart,” he went on. “He protected us despite the threat to his life. Auban is not an enemy, he never was, and I love him with everything I have. I won’t be parted from him.”
“No,” Sariel said after a moment. “I can see that you won’t. But the two of you must depart nonetheless.”
Garen gasped, and Morgan felt his brother stiffen at his back. His own heart skipped a beat. Surely not … not after everything they’d been through, not after all that Auban had done for them. Please, no …
“Your deceit requires punishment,” Sariel went on. “But it’s not dire enough for exile. Therefore, I decree that you and your mate are sentenced to one year living apart from the village.”
One year apart … what did that mean? “Like … on the Spit?” Morgan asked tentatively.
“That awful, windy little slip of land?” Sariel made a face. “Not unless you truly wish to make that your choice. No, I was thinking something a bit closer to home. I understand there’s a beach that you’ve made into quite the hideaway.”
Morgan felt his heart begin to rise. “Yes …”
“I think that should suffice. You’ll need to make a shelter there—a temporary one, since you won’t be living there forever. You won’t be required to contribute to farming efforts since you’ll lack access to the fields out there, but you’ll have to hunt for the good of the whole village.”
“I—yes, we can do that.”
“And you won’t be allowed to come into the village at all.”
Oh, that would be hard. Not seeing Garen and Brevaer as they bumbled their way through courtship …
“But citizens in good standing will be allowed to visit you.” Sariel smiled. “To ensure that you’re behaving with humility and penitence, of course.”
“You’re so soft,” Rozyne muttered, but there was no bite to the words.
“Ah.” Morgan blinked. “I’m …” Not sure I understand this as a punishment. It kind of feels like you’re setting me up for a year-long honeymoon with my mate.
Sariel’s smile fell away. “There are so few of us,” he said softly. “Fewer still who find a mate who suits their heart as you have. I would never send you away forever, Morgan. You’re the son of my closest friend, and our families will soon be joined.” He glanced at Garen, who was blushing furiously and trying to pretend he wasn’t. “There are still factions within our people who require appeasing, but what they want isn’t as important as keeping our clan whole and healthy. I remember the beautiful things you made as a child.”
Morgan nodded, not quite able to keep up with the non-sequitur. “Yes.”
“Now more than ever, our people need beauty in their lives. That’s the other task I lay upon you while you and your mate spend your time apart—create things that will bring us joy, that will bring light to our spirits. Give us something to look at that isn’t a broken home or a filthy beach. Use your love to shape works of the heart.”
To hear his useless skill for art so explicitly praised almost brought tears to Morgan’s eyes. “I shall,” he said roughly. “I promise. Auban and I will use this time to work hard for the betterment of our people.”
“That’s what I ask.” Sariel inclined his head, then said, “You’ll need to build fast if you’re to get a hut up before winter. I suggest you start today. Use rocks if you can—that little promontory is covered in them, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Then use our strongest warriors to help you.” He gestured to his son and Brevaer. “You have a week before your time apart begins. Use it wisely.”
“I will.”
“Go, then.”
Morgan turned, a bit unsteady on his feet, and walked outside the hut, Brevaer at his back. Auban was waiting for him there, with children hanging from his arms and another on his shoulders. He’d proven a great entertainment among the children of the village, but he gently set them aside the moment Morgan appeared and came over to him. He looked so good, Morgan reflected as Auban took him into his arms. Strong and recovered … still scarred, but those were simply the lines that meant he’d survived.
“What did the chief say?” he asked, sounding concerned. “You look so dazed.”
“More like amazed at his own good fortune,” Brevaer said gruffly. “I’ll get started pulling everything I can spare out of our home.” He walked away, and Auban tilted Morgan’s face up to look into his eyes.
“What does he mean by that?” Auban asked.
Morgan laughed. “He means that we’re going to have a little adventure,” he said, wrapping his arms around Auban’s waist and squeezing. “In a place I’ve come to be quite fond of. I’ll tell you all about it on the way to Brev’s house.” A house which would never truly be Morgan’s home again, but that was all right.
He was about to create a new one, after all.
Chapter twenty-six
Epilogue
Springtime, Morgan reflected, was the perfect time for beach sex.
Not sex in the water. It was still rather cold for their two-legged forms, the currents brisk enough that the water could carry them out to sea if they weren’t careful. Plus, Auban wasn’t a strong swimmer yet. Summer would be a fine time for him to learn that but not during the sneaking waves of a treacherous spring sea. The beach, on the other hand …
