The Dream Garden

By Karen Nilsen

Far across the sea from the mortal world lies a vast wilderness where phoenixes have existed for a thousand years. They guard the dream garden, a sacred place of untapped spiritual power. Now that Dominic of Landers has vanquished the warden of the western seas in a magical fight and broken the spell binding the phoenixes to their land, they are free to mingle with the society they left behind so long ago.
The flock of ancient firebirds emerges briefly to help Safire, Merius, and their family defeat an enemy invader from another realm. However, rather than engage with their distant descendants, the elder phoenixes retreat back into the mysterious place they have called home for a millennium. Safire and Merius, curious about their rescuers, decide to visit the reclusive group.
No one expects what occurs next, of course. Those readers who have followed Safire's and her family's adventures in the Landers Saga and Phoenix Realm books know how much trouble Safire, Merius, and their children can cause. Now add a sarcastic unicorn, a mean old bat, a slightly wicked trickster with too many handkerchiefs, and a philosophical tiger-man to the mix and see what happens. For those who find such antics entertaining, read on. You won't be disappointed (I hope;)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Nilsen
• Release date: Dec 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005027599

Karen Nilsen

As a child, Karen suffered frequent bouts of insomnia. The only way she could settle into sleep many nights was to imagine stories that played out like movies on the dark ceiling over her bed. Since her mean parents refused to replace the TV after the cat blew it up by peeing on the cord, all Karen had left to entertain herself in the lone wilds of the Minnesota wilderness were books and her own stories. As Karen grew, the stories grew with her. One day when she was fourteen, she told her mother one of these stories for probably the hundredth time. Her mother, who knew Karen very well, turned to her and said, “You know, Karen, you keep talking about these stories, but you never write them down. You keep saying you’re going to write a novel, but I don’t believe that you will.” This comment infuriated Karen so much that she started writing her stories down and hasn’t stopped since.

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THE DREAM GARDEN

A Novel by

Karen Nilsen

Copyright 2021 by Karen Nilsen

All rights reserved.

Published by Karen Nilsen at Smashwords

Smashwords edition published 2021

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To all those who dream of joy as an antidote to fear.

Prologue ~ Venessa

(Near the end of How Winter Came to Eden)

I landed in an overgrown courtyard. Tucking my wings as closely as I could to my body, much the same protective way I might have wrapped my arms around myself when I was human, I turned and examined everything. My hawk gaze took it all in, absorbed it in a flash.

A bamboo grove off to my left, small birds rustling and chirping in its shadowy depths. The twisted vines and thick foliage of the jungle to my back and right. And before me the solid wall of a tower. Could they be in that? If so, they would have had to sprout wings like mine to enter it. There was no door that I could see, at least on this side. There were windows, but they were high up, near the top. I shivered a little, my plumage trembling. A sudden memory came to me of lying in my bed, my eyes locked with Valkira’s while Grandmother read us the story of Rapunzel and her ensorcelled tower prison. I half expected a golden braid of hair to spill over one of the sills and snake its way down the wall.

I stilled the tremble of fearful enchantment and listened for a moment but heard nothing beyond the birds’ small squabbles in the grove. Rather eerie, being alone aside from a few sparrows in this dense quiet. Of course, I could easily fly back to the ship, but what would be the point? I would still be alone, even with the crew bustling all around me. Without Dominic and Kelene there, without Lady Safire and Father (Sir Merius) there, how would I ever impart what I had found? What could have happened to them? It had been a wicked storm. Had it blown them all to some other realm?

I glanced eastwards but glimpsed no hint of the black clouds, the howling winds, the crack of lightning bolts. Instead the sky shined like a length of azure silk, a beautiful gown the peaceful seas wore. The deceptively peaceful seas, considering the rage they had been in yesterday. The ocean reminded me of Mother—moody, always beautiful, sometimes charming, sometimes calm, but always with a hint of lethal instability roiling under the surface.

Dominic? Kelene? I heard myself call, but that was impossible. I imagined it. It was what I would have done when I was still human, such a simple, thoughtless action for a mortal girl, to call out in a human voice for her loved ones. Instead a hoarse caw emerged, and I cringed at the harsh difference between my dearest fancy and my current reality.

Then I cawed again, a shrill hawk shriek that scattered the birds from the bamboo in a cloud of clapping wings, black shapes briefly against the sky’s ever-changing canvas. Then they were gone, and now I was truly alone, no answering hawk shriek from Father (Sir Merius), no matter how hard I strained my ears.

The last time I could remember being this alone was the wordless void following my murder and transformation into a hawk. I had possessed no words for my thoughts during that time—all had been a jumble of emotions, colors, and images. Valkira’s enraged grief, colored the bloody scarlet of vengeance, Father’s (King Segar’s) and Grandmother’s sorrow, colored the shadowy blue of night tears, Avreal’s and Wylan’s icy resolve, colored the searing white of frost. My own melancholy, colored gray with the dust of buried hopes, as brittle and dry as flowers pressed between the pages of a closed book.

That was how I felt about my existence at that point—it was a closed book, the short, sad story of a princess with a wicked mother, an unwitting princess who fell in love with a man she could never have, a virginal princess all too ready to sacrifice herself to save her twin rather than face a womanhood without true love. At least it had an exciting end, that story—pierced in the heart by an assassin’s arrow, the long fall from the parapet, the transformation into a hawk. The redemption of it—how the death meant for my sister came for me instead, thus preserving Valkira for her destined role as queen. I always had been the spare, not the heir, certainly not ready, never ready to be queen. I wanted a husband and babies, perhaps a chance to use my language skills in a foreign court. But never to rule—I hadn’t the temperament for it.

The terrible irony was that I hadn’t the temperament to be a successful hawk either. The ruthless will to succeed, the predatory instinct, the thrill of the hunt—all these had gone to Valkira along with the talent to rule. The first time I caught a salmon with my talons and brought it to the palace, I found myself in the courtyard, shedding huge tears from my hawk eyes on the fish’s gleaming scales. It was beautiful and had been so alive but an hour before. Would have still been alive and wriggling but for me and my wicked talons. I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. Valkira had strode out and taken charge as she always did. She cleaned the fish in front of the stunned court, holding out the headless filets to me when she had finished. I still couldn’t eat it, though, remembering its taut life force as it thrashed against its death. I had gone to my own death blissfully unaware, no time to fight it, but that salmon hadn’t. And that bothered me.

If only heaven or even purgatory had followed death—I would have belonged there, after all. But a giant immortal hawk? Where did I belong in my realm? There weren’t any hawk princes for me to marry, and I couldn’t be an ambassador—I couldn’t even think in words anymore, much less say them.

But then I found words again, when Father (Sir Merius) and Avreal showed me the weirplaces, and how we were all human together there. Brief as my times at the weirplace were, that had been a wonderful relief. And then Valkira and I had rediscovered our mind bond when Avreal was near, and that had been a wonderful relief as well. I didn’t know what I would have done without those two events happening. Lost my mind? It was a distinct possibility. Without language, who was I? I had always been the twin with the words and poetry, while Valkira had been the one with the numbers and logic . . .

Some creature growled then, a low rumble of sound I sensed more with my feet than with my ears. I started out of my reverie. Something moved in the bamboo, a subtle ripple of the shadows, with a sinuous silence like a snake. I froze, utterly petrified, gaping at the grove. I was a human-sized hawk, a predator few would want to face, yet here I was, behaving like prey, too limp with terror to flee.

The ripples broke free of the bamboo stalks, revealing a magnificent he-tiger. As he paced before me, I realized his coat was oddly colored, a series of orange-yellow stripes interspersed with teal stripes. Teal? I glanced down at my own purple and gray plumage, my aura made visible. He must be a weircreature too, a man enchanted into the shape of a beast, and the teal and amber must have been the colors of his aura when he was human. He turned to face me then and dropped on his haunches. We regarded each other for a long moment, two immortals in their wild forms, and I no longer felt like prey. I felt like his equal. It was the look in his beautiful amber eyes—a gentle respect. It was like he knew me, even though we had yet to exchange introductions. It didn’t hurt that his eyes were the same color as Wylan’s eyes. This reminder of my first love, innocent in its youth and tragedy, made me disposed to be tender to this tiger before I’d even properly met him. Before he even performed his first magic that rendered me forever beholden to him.

My first indication that this weirtiger had powers beyond the norm was when the gong appeared beside him, a flat disk of bronze, bright as the sun, hanging on a iron easel. I tipped my head to the side, peering at this new wonder. I was used to Elkanah’s glamours, so the sudden appearance of such an item didn’t alarm me so much as intrigue me. Why a gong? Was he planning to communicate somehow with it? It seemed so as he stood and picked up the mallet between his jaws. He twisted his head back and struck the gong. It resonated with a rich, metallic echo—the note wasn’t particularly loud but the sound carried so well I imagined it would travel across the sea and Valkira would hear it two days hence in Corcin.

I stopped noticing the gong, however, for the instant after the tiger struck it, he was no longer a tiger. He stood before me as a man, clad in the white robes SerVerinese men wore in their desert climate. A tall, lean man, with a face that reminded me of ancient SerVerinese statues I’d seen—stark, straight lines and harsh angles, softened not a whit by centuries of sandstorms. He was no statue, though, eyes bright against his dark skin, a faint smile animating his ascetic’s mouth. His eyes had no whites, I noticed then—slits of cat pupils divided the otherwise unadulterated gold. And long fangs pressed into his lower lip. And his robes did not reflect the colors of his aura, though his tiger hide had.

You appear puzzled, Venessa of Cormalen, he said, his voice quiet yet somehow as resonant as the gong. You must have questions—I can sense the roiling of your thoughts. Although your hawk form is beautiful and pleases me, I would like for us to be able to converse more easily. Hefting the hammer in his hand, he hit the gong again.

The sound tingled over me like a hundred gentle kisses, and I closed my eyes and sighed at the ecstasy of it. Wylan had dared kiss me when we could elude the guards, and this felt like that, except all over, every inch of my skin briefly bathed in tender passion. I sighed again, then grabbed for my throat. Hawks didn’t sigh. It was a distinctly human sound. Had I imagined it, the way I had imagined calling for Dominic and Kelene earlier?

My eyes opened slowly—I was afraid to look. Hundreds of times I had opened my eyes, hoping I was human again—and hundreds of times I had been wrong. But this time my fingers, feeling the smooth skin of my throat, didn’t lie. This time, my fingers were really there, as real as they were at the weirplace. I held them out before me in wonderment, staring at them in the same way an infant would, an infant who had just discovered she had hands. I glanced down finally and saw the glistening purple and gray silk of my aura robes instead of feathers, my soul made visible, a covering for my human nudity.

Is this a weirplace? I asked, my voice hoarse from long disuse.

No, though it shares some similar qualities.

So you made me this way when you rang the gong, just like you made yourself human again?

You could say such, I suppose. I manipulate reality on this island . . .

Glamours, you mean? Like Elkanah’s?

Not exactly. He changes perceptions of things. I change the thing itself.

I shook my head violently in my confusion, then was bemused at my hair whipping my face. I really had become a child again, lost in amazement at the feel of things I had taken for granted as a girl. Then I suddenly stopped, in shock at my own foolishness.

Wait, how do you know Elkanah? And what’s your name?

He smiled. Ah, to answer the second question, my name is Nimeertet. To answer the first requires a long story that could take a year in telling. Suffice it to say for now I read about Elkanah in a book, a book about my tribe.

A book? I murmured, more confused than before. But how could you have a book about Elkanah? I thought no ships sailed here, at least not for hundreds of years.

He laughed, a deep rumble of amusement, his eyes filled with an amber light so rich I couldn’t look away. I could feel that light on my skin, touching me, as palpable as honey, as sweet on my tongue as honey, and I knew then I wanted to kiss him.

And you truly believe Valkira is the logical twin?

More logical, I supplied, still caught by those eyes. I understood how prey became so enraptured by a predator’s gaze that flight was impossible. Then I shook myself for perhaps the third time since meeting this tiger-man. Had I heard him right? Wait, how do you know about Valkira? I echoed my earlier question about Elkanah—I foresaw I would be doing a lot of that.

He gestured at the tower, a languid wave. Another book. I have many books, a most extensive library. Your true sire will want to read them all—at least twice. To do so, though, would take many lives of men.

I see. Though I didn’t see at all. My true sire? Did he mean Sir Merius? How did he know all these things, these secrets?

Yes, I meant Sera Merius. Come—we should go to the beach. He reached for my hand. We will look at my books later, and then you will understand.

I resisted taking his hand as I stepped backward, away from him. Though I couldn’t break eye contact—that cat stare framed by a human face still held me mesmerized. You’re reading my thoughts, I observed flatly.

When he nodded, I continued, Please stop—the only one I ever want in my head is Valkira, and not even her most of the time. I don’t even know you.

He sighed, and the sound carried the lonely cry of a solitary hunter, exiled far from his homeland. It is not so simple, Venessa, though I wish it were. I cannot just stop—it is one of the reasons I am here. Because I channel others’ thoughts—I have no way to dam the flow unless I exert constant conscious vigilance or run into someone highly skilled at warding his or her mind against mine.

But other mind readers I know—they know how to block me . . .

He started shaking his head before I was able to finish. I know that. I used to be able to block others, as you call it—when I was mortal. But I have not been mortal for a thousand turns of Aesir. My brother saw to such. Faint bitterness crept into his voice. Perhaps as I practice blocking you and your mortal friends, it will become easier. After all, I have been alone here and unpracticed for such a long breath of Aesir. My skills with others are rusty, shall we say, but rust can be polished away.

I had more questions, so many questions—it seemed like every answer he gave prompted twenty more questions. I was starting to feel like Valkira, with her sometimes rude interrogations. How many times had she embarrassed me by demanding answers from others that I could tell they weren’t ready to give? Suddenly, the reality of my situation intruded. I was leagues and leagues away from Cormalen and Valkira, my voice of reason. I had just come through a terrible storm. Half of my family was still missing. This strange tiger-man had rung a gong and made me human again. He kept seizing on all my secret thoughts, to the extent I felt stripped, naked before him. And we had only met minutes before. All the questions I had departed as swiftly as they had come, exhaled on one long whoosh of air. Faintness overtook me, and I swayed as those golden eyes encompassed my entire field of vision.

I snapped out of my dizzy spell when he grasped my arm, a gentle insistence that summoned me back to full awareness. Come, he said, leading me to the courtyard edge furthest from the tower. The foliage parted around a patch of darkness which appeared to be the start of a narrow path through the jungle. The water selkie Kelene and your brother await us on the beach, he said when trepidation adhered my feet to the stones.

Dominic’s there? Kelene too? I asked, a bit dazed at the information as I persisted in hanging back—I could hear Valkira screaming in my head that I really shouldn’t let a tiger lead me into the forest on such short acquaintance, no matter now nice he seemed. It too closely resembled the beginnings of gory fairytales, never my favorites. I had preferred less blood and violence in my stories and more kissing and happily ever afters, whereas Valkira the huntress had been the exact opposite. It had led to more than a few arguments at bedtime, even a pillow fight at one point. But why didn’t you say anything before?

Because I did not sense their presence before now—they must have just woken up. And your appearance in the courtyard distracted me. I am not accustomed to visitors. The constant hum of thoughts from the crew alone— he winced, and I realized then that what he claimed might be true, that he couldn’t shut out others’ thoughts and perhaps desperately wanted to. Guadalupae and Kelene at least are fellow weircreatures. And you. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light in the shadows under the canopy of vines and trees.

So our thoughts are different from the others?

Yes—wilder, purer. Your minds fit better with the rhythm of this place than the mortal men’s. Also, I have always preferred the thoughts of women. I am a man who desires female companionship, so perhaps such is natural.

So you have been alone here on this island for a thousand years? Now that we hiked into the jungle and I trusted I would soon see Dominic and Kelene again, the questions began to return.

Yes.

Why?

He paused and glanced at me. Such is a long story.

You keep saying that.

He smiled, an amused flash of fangs. Such is because a thousand turns of Aesir is a long time. I cannot fit all I need to tell you, show you, into a mortal lifetime, perhaps even an eternity. And there is an infinity inside you for me to discover, if you decide to stay.

Stay? Stay here? But what about my family, Valkira? I can’t stay here. I threw out my hands, relishing the feel of leaves brushing my human skin even as I protested. And your flattery is ridiculous, frankly—I was an innocent, ignorant girl when I died, and I still am one, for all my immortality and feathers. All I have inside is a broken heart and no idea of what to do next. I had a plan for my life, and since fate dashed it against the cobbles and shattered it, I’ve been flying blind in a fog.

Instead of arguing, he merely watched me with those unbearable eyes for a minute before turning back to the path and padding silently along, the way any cat would. I had always found cats to be delightfully inscrutable creatures, easy to write poetry about. I could observe them for hours, fascinated. And, it wasn’t like he could hurt me, no more than I could hurt him, I informed Valkira’s voice in my head, finally quelling the caterwaul of my unease to a whisper. I had already died once in this realm—I couldn’t die again here, even at the hands (or claws) of another immortal. So I followed him without further questions, followed him into my future.

It didn’t take as long to reach the beach as I had expected. The tangle of trees and vines parted around a jewel of blue sky, and I heard Nimeertet’s gong, distant this time. When I looked at him, he answered, The wind, and I nodded, accepting this answer though it made little sense. The wind couldn’t ring gongs, not without hands to hold a hammer. But perhaps the wind was magical here, possessed of a conscious will in the same way the wind and land and water at the weirplaces felt sentient and aware. I wondered if perhaps the time was also skewed here the way it was at the weirplaces in Cormalen. Probably—it seemed like that kind of place. We’d have to watch that—we didn’t want to spend three days here only to find out twenty years had passed in Cormalen when we returned. We . . . when we returned. When they returned. What if I did stay here? I glanced down, marveling at my human hands, my human feet, the feel of my human body. Would this spell last if I left? Or would this human form melt away the instant I left the island, insubstantial as one of Elkanah’s glamours? I swallowed as I felt the sea breeze on my bare skin, no feathers between me and the world. Of course, I could experience this at the weirplaces, but it felt different here somehow. More permanent, perhaps.

I heard barking over the roar of the surf. Tegrat raced toward us, tail high and flapping like a flag of greeting, sand flying in his wake. He came to me and demanded affection in the form of pats on his head. Soon I crouched beside him and scratched his belly as he wriggled on his back in canine ecstasies. He acted like he knew me, but how? He had never run from my hawk form the way other animals did, but I wasn’t a hawk now. Did he think I was Valkira?

No, Nimeertet answered my unspoken question. He knows who you are—he is special, more spirit than flesh.

But he’s not a weircreature. Brow furrowed—a most pleasant feeling I hadn’t realized I’d missed till now--I glanced up at my new . . . friend? That didn’t seem quite right. I barely knew him, but acquaintance didn’t seem right either. His lips curled in that enigmatic smile, fangs flashing, and Tegrat was immediately on his paws, fur ruffed on his back as he growled at Nimeertet, who sighed.

You will remember me again one day. And then you will feel most foolish, he told Tegrat, who only growled all the more, then turned tail and rushed off, barking madly.

You know each other?

It is part of that long story I keep threatening to tell you. But, hark, there is no time for such now. Tegrat, as I believe you call him now, has gone to warn Dominic and Kelene.

We continued down the beach, and I still drifted half in a dream at the sensation of my feet sinking in the sand, the feel of my hair catching the breeze, the sheer humanity of it. Then I noticed something. I still have my hawk eyes—I can see far in the distance, much farther than I remember seeing as a human. I didn’t realize till now, till I looked out at the ocean . . . I trailed off, staring at distant dolphins leaping, a whale miles away surfacing to breathe.

Such is because you will never be completely human again—even with the power I possess, I cannot magic away your hawk eyes, no more than I can my cat eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and your soul transformed to a hawk’s. Only at your weirplaces can other immortals see you as fully human again.

Windows to the soul . . . what a lovely phrase, I murmured.

I cannot claim it for my own. It is an old proverb from the Earth realm.

Earth realm? My brow furrowed again, a feeling I now enjoyed even though it used to give me a headache as a mortal. I could imagine in my current state that I might stub my toe and be happy with the resultant pain because it was a human pain. Hawks couldn’t stub their toes because they didn’t have toes, at least not the same way humans did.

Then I forgot all my strange musings, at least for the moment, as I glimpsed Dominic standing on the shore, staring at us. I stared back as if seeing him for the first time, when I’d known him most of my life.

He is alive, I whispered, raising my hand to my throat, just one of many gestures I had inherited from my mother . . . my mind began to spiral down, falling after her as she dove from the parapet, dragging me with her . . .

Nimeertet grabbed my hand and forced it down, the first time he had come close to being rough. Do not think of her now—there will be time for that later, he said fiercely, his fingers laced tightly with mine. I will help you vanquish her, but only at the proper breath of Aesir. And such is not now. Look upon your brother. Look upon Tegrat. Look upon the sweet mermaid Kelene. See them and think of no others for the moment.

What an odd command. And the oddest thing about it was that I understood it. Or at least my heart did. My brain protested, but my heart spoke more loudly. It always had. So I obeyed him and forgot about Mother as I looked to the strong figure of my secret brother, the intrepid explorer and warlock healer. And then I looked at Kelene. And gasped. For she was still a mermaid—I could see the shining scales covered her face and neck and shoulders, the scalloped fins of her ears, the translucent flesh between her fingers as she bobbed in a tide pool. The light gleamed over her in a rosy-orange glow, brilliant and beautiful as any sunset.

A familiar arrow of sharp envy shot through my heart at the sight of her and Dominic together, painful as the arrow that had ended my mortal life, painful because I loved them both, and I didn’t want to envy them. It was just that they so obviously belonged together and had found each other and gotten married. I felt the same when I saw Valkira and Darsk together—happy for them but desperately unhappy for myself at the same time because I could never have that. If I had remained human, I might have eventually recovered from my heartbreak over Wylan and found someone else. But just when I was on the cusp of emerging from the chrysalis of my sorrow, an assassin had stolen my mortal future away and turned me into a rare immortal creature. No hawk princes for me to marry anywhere in sight.

Your Highness Venessa? Dominic muttered then, stroking his stubbly jaw as he stared at me. Is that you?

Startled from the muddy swirl of self pity, I laughed, then covered my own mouth in amazement at the sound. You can see me as a woman?

He opened his arms and threw them around me in a tight hug, the same fierce embrace I’d seen him greet Avreal with. For the first time, the reality of our sibling relationship struck me full force. I had known on an intellectual level how we were related, even reveled in the idea of him as my older brother. But I had been so preoccupied with the accompanying tragedies of losing Wylan, Mother’s final madness and suicidal plunge, my assassination and transformation, that all else faded to the background. Even an older brother like Dominic. And it wasn’t as if I had been able to embrace him as my brother before this. I had been a hawk for most of the time I had known Dominic and I were related. In the interim I had accepted Sir Merius as my secret father, Avreal as my secret sister, for the simple fact that I could interact with them as humans at the weirplaces. I couldn’t do that with Dominic—there was always the barrier of immortality between us. Until now, now that it felt as if he clutched my very heart in his arms. I couldn’t catch my breath enough to say a word—all I could do was tighten my arms around him in response.

He ended the embrace finally, pulled away enough to look at me. Your eyes—there are no whites, only iris and pupil.

Nimeertet cleared his throat. That is because she is under my spell, and it does not work completely, even for a powerful warlock such as yourself. The eyes, after all, have been said to offer a glimpse of the soul. So it is impossible to entirely hide our true natures if we are weir.

He and Dominic locked gazes—well, more a glare on Dominic’s part. I could feel invisible hackles rise as Tegrat padded around, snuffling, then growling at Nimeertet’s feet. Nimeertet glanced at the dog, breaking off eye contact with Dominic for an instant. Only for an instant though.

You are wondering why I have no aura, Nimeertet said.

Dominic nodded. That, among other things.

If you disarm me in battle, you will see what you call an aura then. All people used to see such things, but they have forgotten. You will also see your wife as a woman again.

An uneasiness rippled through me with a tingle as Dominic motioned at Kelene. Wait, you're keeping her this way?

Kelene and I looked at each other then, and I sensed her sadness for I shared it. We would have been ready friends under any other circumstances, I just knew it. However, just like with Dominic, there was that implacable wall, the wall between being a mortal woman and an immortal hawk. She sensed my loneliness and tried to help, but always there was that wall. Often we had exchanged such glances over the wall when I was a hawk and she was a woman. Now I was a woman, she was a mermaid, and we still couldn’t talk with each other.

Then Nimeertet said something which made me hate him for an instant, the sudden, cold stab of an icicle. Yes. I am lord of this island and have been for a thousand turns of Aesir, and I keep my guests in whatever form suits my purposes. And she is a lovely water selkie. He smiled at Kelene then, and I wanted to peck him, slash at him with my talons for keeping her trapped in such a way. I will not keep you so forever, not if your husband meets my challenge and conquers.

What about me? I demanded. I want to remain human and go back to visit my sister.

Nimeertet met my glare with his inscrutable gaze. You are a woman only on this island—and only to certain people. If it were in my power, I would send you back so, but I cannot.

My anger melted away then. I never had been able to sustain rage for long—except at my mother. In this case, fear rushed in to take anger’s place. What if he whisked away my woman’s body, my woman’s tongue, and rendered me a hawk again? Impossible to read his moods, his thoughts—he remained unfathomable even as he picked up every nuance of emotion we projected. Wait, Dominic and Kelene—neither one of them knew he was a powerful mind reader. Or a potentially lethal weirtiger. How could it have taken me this long to realize their ignorance of these important facts? Because he had me under his spell, I thought with a touch of bitterness. Dear God, what if he heard that? Some feeling, too quick to read, darted like a shimmering fish deep in the liquid gold of his gaze as he regarded me, and I knew then he had sensed my doubt. Was he hurt? Amused? Angry? I couldn’t tell.

I couldn’t speak, trapped as I was, so I lowered my gaze from his (as if breaking eye contact would protect me—what a childish hope) and stared at my hands, my human hands, as I nodded.

Never one for diplomatic timidity, Dominic said, his tone tightly wound with growing anger, And I bet if Her Highness Valkira came here to see her sister as a human again, you would trap her—Valkira--in her hawk form, just like you trapped Kelene, or make it so that Valkira couldn't see Venessa as a human, just so you could toy with our perceptions and our emotions.

I gasped, horrified. What if Nimeertet transformed into the tiger here and now and batted Dominic about like a troublesome bit of prey? And Dominic didn’t even have his sword . . . I had to find a way to warn him and Kelene of the danger . . .

Nimeertet drew upright, shoulders squared. You speak boldly for one without your sword.

Dominic glanced down at Kelene briefly as she stared up at him, and I could tell they exchanged some communication through their mind bond. Likely she cautioned him to keep his temper. How could I help but recognize the look, after so many years mind-bonded with Valkira?

Dominic’s warlock insight saved me further worry about warning him when he asked Nimeertet, Are you reading our minds?

Nimeertet shrugged. It is easy enough to see you have no weapon.

But specifically a sword, a sword I literally just thought about a minute ago? And you've said other things that indicate to me you can hear our thoughts. Believe me, I've been around a couple mind-readers in my time.

Like your friend Rorric?

So you are reading our minds? Dominic persisted. You must be, to know about Rorric.

I am what some who have not been born yet might call a telepath, so yes, to answer your question, Nimeertet replied smoothly. Then he smiled and added a comment it took me a moment to understand—it must have been in response to some unspoken taunt of Dominic’s. And I am cat-eyed, but I am not a son of a bitch. My mother was not a weirwolf.

Ha-ha, was Dominic’s sarcastic rejoinder. He glanced quickly at Kelene again and then at me, and I knew he feared for us, wondered how best to protect us. Then he turned back to Nimeertet. If you're so talented at picking up my thoughts, almost before I have them, how is our fight going to be a fair one? Especially if I can't sense your aura. What's your liability in a fight? Can you tell me, because I'm not seeing any.

Wait, were they really going to face each other in battle? I had assumed that was a bit of posturing, the way men sometimes greeted each other when they didn’t know each other and were sizing each other up as potential enemies. Then I remembered, a stone dropping from my stomach to my feet, that Dominic had read something in a book about an island at the edge of the western seas, an island where an immortal gatekeeper waited. The only way to pass this gatekeeper was to duel with him and disarm him. Was Nimeertet the gatekeeper? Or was it all a bunch of exaggerated twaddle? I prayed fervently for the latter. Dominic could handle a sword with a wondrous skill. But he was still only a mortal man. He couldn’t kill Nimeertet. But Nimeertet could kill him with one swipe of his giant paw . . .

Nimeertet’s lips parted in an unexpected grin (which did little to reassure me) and Tegrat growled. That is because there are none. I have no liabilities as a fighter. But I do have scruples, honor—if I had not, I would have killed you last night when you landed here.

Not if you fight these little duels for the sport. Perhaps you like to play with your prey before you eat it, the way any cat does, Dominic retorted.

I gasped, shocked at Dominic’s boldness. Then I gripped his arm, a futile attempt to hold him back from his fate. Dominic, please, I babbled, not making a bit of sense—I had never had to talk a man out of fighting a possibly lethal duel before, I understand why you're angry, but Nimeertet is no cannibal. What in heaven’s name had just come out of my mouth? Why had I been granted the ability to speak again if all I was going to use it for was uttering such nonsense?

Dominic smiled at me—the daredevil was amused, damn him. I meant it metaphorically—at least I hope I did, he said breezily before he shot Nimeertet another glower.

Nimeertet laughed, a rich roar of sound, and now I wanted to shake them both. How could they talk so casually about bloodshed and death? I looked at Kelene, and she moved her head from side to side, apparently sharing my irritation.

You guess much, Dominic of Landers, Nimeertet said, a chuckle still edging his voice. I do like to play with my prey, as you so inelegantly but accurately put it. I have no liabilities, but let me assure you, I am not invincible. You are fast, well-trained with a sword. Mayhap you will move faster than you think—many of the great warriors do. They have honed their instincts to be sharper, quicker than their thoughts. Now I can read such instincts, but they, shall we say, paint broad strokes in the mind whereas fully formed ideas write in precise script. Guessing how your warrior's instinct will react is much more difficult than reading your thoughts.

That's a relief, Dominic answered, sharp as a whip crack. So when is this fight?

Nimeertet drew an invisible circle in the air, then another. When you are feeling fully yourself again, perhaps two days hence at this time, now Aesir is at his zenith? Noon, you call it? Two days?! Two days—they were really going to fight in two days? Dominic could be dead in two days at the hand of the man who had given me my humanity back?

To my horror, Dominic didn’t argue. That sounds fair enough. No sense in waiting any longer. We have a mission to carry out and not much time to do it.

Ah, so hasty. Nimeertet sounded amused again, and for the second time, a lightning bolt of hatred flashed through my soul, searing yet brief. Then he continued, still addressing Dominic. You find me condescending, do you not? You are annoyed. It is most amusing, the rapid shift of mortal moods. I have missed it, this interplay. I speak with the stars at night, but they change their mood once a millennium, while you mortals flit about, giddy as mayflies. I was like you once, and I miss it sometimes.

He had just described me—the quicksilver moods, the swift interplay of emotions, how I loathed him one moment, feared him the next, liked him the third, then pitied him the last. Of course, I had only been immortal for a year and a season, while I had been alive for eighteen years. I couldn’t imagine what a thousand years here alone had done to Nimeertet. He was a creature beyond me in all ways, perhaps permanently unknowable.

Dominic kicked at the sand. So where will we have this duel?

I have a fine, flat courtyard beside my tower at the summit of the island. Nimeertet waved his hand toward the path we had followed down to the beach. "The Water Selkie is moored on the far side, in a harbor. There is a clear path from the harbor to my home."

I breathed in deeply, filling my human lungs with the briny air. They really meant to do it then—they’d set a time and a place. I could choose to hate Nimeertet for it, and I would likely feel more flashes of rage in the days to come. But Dominic was clearly eager to fight. And he seemed to understand the strength and skill of his opponent, the stakes involved.

"The Water Selkie? How's the ship, the crew?" Dominic exclaimed, yanking me back to the present.

Goodness, I should have told you before, I said, chagrined at my lapse. I'm sorry. Everyone aside from you is there and accounted for. Sir Kelton is bruised and sore and has a nasty rattle when he breathes—I think he may have caught cold, but he's the only one who's really incapacitated. As for the ship, the broken yardarm is the worst damage. The storm let up soon after you went overboard. The current led us straight to the harbor this morning, and I flew up to see the tower, to see if I could spot any sign of you and Kelene or Father and Lady Safire. Then I met Nimeertet and forgot everything—the storm, the ship— because he could see me as a woman, not as a hawk, and then I could see myself as a woman again. I faltered, then trailed off, gulping—as soon as I had said the words, I realized my fatal weakness. Like a drunkard desperate for liquor, liquor only Nimeertet could provide, I might fall under his thrall. Even if he killed my brother. Even if I hated him for it. I saw Dominic and Kelene look at each other again, and I could sense they knew. It made me feel naked before them all, my insatiable hunger to be human again exposed. Kelene glanced at me, the sweet sympathy in her night-colored eyes well nigh unbearable.

The way you talked, it sounds like you've been alone here for some time, Nimeertet. Dominic spat his name, and I sent him a look of silent pleading. I doubted it would happen—Nimeertet seemed too polished and calm to lose his temper—but what if he did? What if Dominic provoked him, and he became the tiger?

Dominic leaned toward me and said in a low voice, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry—wanted to be sure I pronounced it correctly. His earnest apology totally undid me—here he was, facing a deadly duel, and he was worried about hurting my feelings.

I shook my head, almost too overwhelmed to speak. It's all right, Dominic. I understand, and I'll be devastated if he hurts you during the duel. It just feels so nice, to have my humanity back, to be able to talk with you, even if it's only for today. I'm feeling so torn right now, like I have one foot in heaven and the other in hell.

Dominic slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him, such a natural gesture of brotherly affection that tears stung my eyes. A silent moment passed, the rhythmic rush of the waves the only sound. I wondered if it bothered Kelene to hear the sea so close when she was trapped in a tide pool. Then the wind rose and sighed amidst the palm fronds overhead, and for the first time I could remember, I missed my wings. But only for an instant, certainly not enough to shuck off my human body just yet.

Nimeertet cleared his throat, his voice the deep grumble of a long dormant volcano, ready to erupt, You are right yet again, Dominic of Landers. Perhaps you are a mind-reader in your own right. I struggled for a second, not able to remember what Dominic’s question had been, what he was right about. Then Nimeertet added, I have been lonely here. No ships have come this far for three hundred turns of Aesir at least—once word began to spread of the Kraken and Storm Island and myself, sailors avoided the western seas. And those who did come almost never made it through the storm. You had some advantage with that, the advantage of foreknowledge. My only company has been the wild creatures who share this place with me and a couple of the more venturesome phoenixes over the many turns. So when Venessa landed in my courtyard this morning, I . . .

Other phoenixes? Dominic interrupted. They really are here, then?

Nimeertet nodded. You will learn more after you pass the test of our duel. Only then will you be ready for such knowledge.

Dominic, most persistent, then demanded, What about Venessa or my parents? Can you tell them? They've been murdered and transformed into immortal weirbirds—I would think that would make them ready for anything.

Nimeertet’s smile was answer enough. Clever, but it is your test to pass, not theirs.

Then, suddenly, he was gone. I pivoted around, my skirts swirling against my legs yet another sensation I hadn’t realized I’d missed till now. Dominic and Kelene looked wildly to all sides, Kelene slipping under the surface of the pool briefly. Tegrat kicked up sand, barking as he searched for Nimeertet. But he was nowhere to be found, at least nowhere on the beach, and soon Tegrat returned to us. Where had he gone? And why so mysteriously? I held out my skirts and peered down at my feet, clad in soft gray boots. At least he hadn’t taken my new humanity with him. I shook my head, bemused at the events of the last hour. It was as if I had slid sideways into some parallel version of my life, some other me.

So, Dominic said, drawing my attention back to our current situation. What happened after you landed in his courtyard?

I don't know exactly. He came into the courtyard as a tiger.

A tiger? Dominic frowned, both he and Kelene watching me with unblinking expressions.

I found myself nodding, a feeble attempt to prop up our absurd new reality where ten-centuries-old tiger wizards wandered out of the jungle. Yes, a teal-striped tiger.

Blue-green? Dominic’s seeming doubt, even concerning the color of Nimeertet’s stripes, was starting to annoy me.

Well, if I can have purple feathers, why can't he have teal fur? I retorted, a bit tartly.

Good point. What color were the other stripes?

Golden-orange, like what you'd expect.

So golden for a mind-reader, and teal for a healer? Interesting. Dominic tapped his chin, clearly ruminating as he gazed off into the distance. If aura colors meant all these different things, I wondered suddenly what my purple and gray aura indicated about me. Lady Safire had a purple aura . . . Then Dominic glanced back, his gaze intent, and I forgot about auras for the moment. What happened then? he prompted.

He rang a gong, and suddenly he was a man. Then he rang it again, and I felt a warmth blossom inside me and spread outwards, and when I looked down, I saw my feet. My human feet. And hands and . . . I caught myself staring down at my fingers, my hands, the marvel of them. An hour ago, my arms had been wings.

I hadn't thought of that, Dominic murmured then, staring off in the distance again.

What? I asked, reaching for his shoulder.

He glanced at me, the strangest expression on his face, the lines all pulling downward in despair while a wild hope lit his eyes. Kelene just communicated through our mind bond that maybe Nimeertet could show me my parents as humans again, if only briefly. Even an hour would be . . . He paused to swallow back some strong emotion. I know you understand, he faltered, understand better than most anyone what that would mean.

I had no words to answer him, only tears. Of course I understood—it was what I longed for desperately every day, that Valkira and I could embrace as human sisters again. Dominic pulled me into another hug. Shh, it's all right. You'll see her again, talk with her again. I misspoke before because I was angry with Nimeertet, the challenge he represents, but I know now if we survive this journey and are able to bring Her Highness Valkira back here someday, you will see each other as women, not birds.

I choked as I nodded against his shoulder. I heard Valkira in my mind, laughing then, and I knew she danced with Darsk, her attention so wrapped up in her new husband at the moment that a chink of her happiness shone through to me like a stray beam of sunlight through a crack in a prison wall. Then the sun faded as if a cloud passed over it, and I knew she worried about me and the others, what was happening on our voyage, what we might have discovered to help Avreal. I can sense her, you know, even from this far away, I said, my voice soft as if I used it for the first time. Mostly, she's so happy and in love with Darsk, and I'm glad about that, but she's worried about us and Avreal, of course, and there's some part of her that remains a hawk and will never be content until we're together again. And that breaks my heart. I want her to be able to let go, not be torn in two between woman and hawk. But if she did let go, that would break my heart too, because that would mean she had forgotten me.

That will never happen, Dominic reassured me.

I blinked, my hawk eyes catching movement as two birds soared above the line where the sky met the sea. Immediately I knew it was Lady Safire and Father (Sir Merius), for they were far too large to be gulls, and her phoenix plumage flashed purple and red and gold in the sunlight, unmistakable. Dominic and I stood side by side, Kelene in the pool behind us, Tegrat nearby, all of us quiet as the beloved figures grew larger and more distinct. It seemed as if we waited with bated breath, waited to see if we would glimpse them as humans when they touched down on the beach. I knew that it was likely a vain hope, that Dominic would have to pass through the trial of his duel with Nimeertet before the mortal scales fell from his eyes. And my rational side, under the sway of Valkira’s sometimes pessimistic pragmatism, knew that Nimeertet would keep them in their bird forms like he kept Kelene in her mermaid form, as a way to hold Dominic to his bargain. However, I couldn’t help the hope beating frail wings inside—it was my comfort and my curse.

When they landed, of course they remained as birds, and both Dominic and I heaved deep sighs at the same instant, then glanced at each other. Damn it, he muttered as we started toward them.

I know, I whispered fiercely, my fingers brushing his sleeve. I know—I hoped for the same. Just think, when you disarm Nimeertet, you’ll see them again—it’s only two days from now.

If I disarm him.

You will. The continued quiet ferocity underlying my tone startled him—and me, truth be told. Rarely was I so adamant—that was Valkira’s part, to be the imperious twin.

His glance was sharp in a way that made me miss Sir Mordric, our grandfather—Sir Mordric’s gaze often crystallized like that into icy resolve. It reaffirmed my already strong faith that Dominic would prevail. How can you be so certain? he demanded.

Because I’ve seen you in the practice salon—I don’t know much about swordplay, but it’s clear you know what you’re doing. I think you’ve won every match I’ve seen you in.

You haven’t seen me face Darsk then, he scoffed, though I could tell my faith in his abilities pleased him.

From what I hear, you won most of those too—and that was from a source rather biased in Darsk’s favor.

Who?

I smiled. Valkira, of course—who else?

He grinned, suddenly reminding me of our father. Thanks for that, Venessa. Lady Safire’s plumage muffled his voice as he threw his arms around her, and I hugged Father (Sir Merius) at the same instant. He made soft sounds in his throat, a sort of hawk coo, as close as hawks could come to cooing at any rate. Then he touched my hair with his beak, gently preening the strands. I closed my eyes, for an instant back almost a decade ago, on the parapet with Valkira the first time Sir Merius and Lady Safire had alighted there to visit with us. I had forgotten what that felt like since I became a weirhawk myself. After all, we were birds flying together except when we were at the weirplaces, and then we could see each other as human beings. I missed their human forms now—I had so many questions to ask about Nimeertet and this place. But this was pleasant, a surge of wordless emotion. Love and comfort. Their presence, whether I could see them as birds or people, brought me security in this strange place. With them here, nothing could go really wrong. Even though I knew from bitter experience that was a childish myth about parents, it still felt true, especially with these two immortals. During the storm yesterday, their presence had protected us and the ship—I was certain that was why we had no real casualties. Every time fear had gripped me during the roar of the wind and swells, the crash of thunder and lightning, I had either shut my eyes and absorbed the bracing beauty of Lady Safire’s song, or I had looked to the stalwart figure of Father (Sir Merius) winging his way through the gale, silver-gray as a ghost against the dark clouds. After all, trusting that the net was there when one leapt forward blindly was all the faith one needed to fly, whether there was truly a net or not.

After Dominic and I finally relinquished them and the tide chased us up the beach until it freed Kelene from the pool, we all looked at each other. Tegrat cocked his head from one side to the other, as if asking the unspoken question on all our minds, What next?

"I guess Kelene and I better go back to The Water Selkie, see how they’re making out, Dominic said finally. You coming with us?"

I shook my head, slowly, reluctantly at first, then with more conviction. I’ll go back to Nimeertet’s lair first and see what I can find out, I declared.

Dominic and Kelene glanced at each other, clearly both questioning this decision. Then Kelene looked at me from her temporary haven in the surf. She really was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen, her fins curling with the waves, her scales gleaming like bright-jeweled treasure just under the surface. Her eyes glowed with a soft darkness, pools of gentle pleading.

Listen, I said. I’m another immortal—it’s not like he can hurt me. And he may let something useful slip to me, something that can help you when you face him.

Dominic frowned, and Sir Merius croaked a harsh-noted protest, his stern gray hawk gaze on me. Father should go with you, Dominic said then, slipping his arm around Lady Safire, who watched me as well. I shut my eyes briefly as I tried to escape their combined scrutiny—it would weaken my resolve, and I couldn’t let that happen. This was the only way I could help, at least that I could think of at the moment.

He’s more likely to let something slip if I go alone, I replied. He can’t hurt me.

At last, they let me go by myself. It was more a reluctant surrender to necessity than to my will—all of them, Dominic especially, needed to return to the ship and crew and the Four Winds. Dominic left me with the parting words, If you’re not back to the ship in two hours, I’m coming up there myself to look for you, Father and Lady Safire nodding their agreement. As it was, they flew overhead as I hiked down the beach and up the path to Nimeertet’s tower. Even when the thick, green canopy of the forest obscured them, I could hear Lady Safire’s song and Father’s loud wing claps, like drumbeats adding rhythm to the melodic flow of her voice.

~~~~~

When I reached the courtyard, Lady Safire and Father flew on to the ship, leaving me utterly alone. The birds in the bamboo roosted this time of day, and not one chirp greeted me. In the eerie quiet of the early afternoon shadows just beginning to lengthen, my confidence faded. This place was ancient, at least a thousand years in the world before I was ever thought of, and it awed me. I revolved in a slow circle and looked all around as the watchful silence enveloped me. I rubbed my shoulders, shivering at the notion of hundreds of eyes on me, invisible eyes just past the edge of the light, eyes that would leap free of the perpetual jungle darkness when the torches of night revealed them, eyes that would jump out and devour me. I stood there, teeth chattering, eyelids sealed tightly closed in defiance of my fate.

Finally, I drew a shuddering breath and forced my eyelids back upwards. Nothing had changed—the courtyard remained quiet, no Nimeertet with his fangs, no flock of killer sparrows descending to rip me apart feather by feather. I couldn’t help a smile at that—songbirds attacking a giant hawk like me. It was a ridiculous image. Then my smile dropped as I caught sight of something odd. A vertical line had appeared on the wall of the tower, crawling up it like a black snake. I narrowed my gaze—that was no snake. It was too thin, no head or scales. Neither rope nor twine either—no braid or pattern of fibers appeared to my sharp eyes. It curved around, then came to a point, then slithered downwards, just as if an invisible hand drew an archway on the wall with charcoal.

The line shimmered blackly for a moment, then dissolved into the warm yellow glow of hundreds of candles as the arched door swung inwards with the deep growl of stone moving against stone. Bewitched by that cozy flickering glow, I stepped forward, and it felt as if I moved toward home, that if I went through that magical archway, Valkira and Father (King Segar) and Grandmama would be inside, waiting for me with open arms.

I stopped on the threshold, for instead of the dear familiar figures of my first family, my human family, instead there stood a man in long robes, cast into darkest silhouette by the light behind him. Nimeertet.

I shook myself. What was wrong with me? Of course Valkira, Father (King Segar), and Grandmama weren’t here—they were across the sea in Cormalen. I had returned to this place to see if I could