Paradise Island (27 page)

His arm wound around her back, the other at her nape. He groaned, pressing her against him, covering her lips with his. She responded, flattening against his solid form, took his mouth in a deep kiss that held all the power of her words. She clung to him, in awe of the power of her declaration, how it made her insides quiver, how it made her want him all the more. As if saying the words out loud lent more strength, more validation, to her claim.

His kiss deepened as she responded. He was surfacing with every move, every press, every measured gentle movement. He ended the kiss, clutched her against him, buried his face in the space between her shoulder and neck. His warm breath tickled her skin and it was all she could do but hold onto him like a limpet on a rock.

“Are you back?” she whispered.

He chuckled. The sound resonated in his chest. “After those words, I couldn't keep away.”

He moved so that he could watch her. His features had softened, as if a pressing weight had been relieved from him. “It had me in its grasp. I was falling, feeling the weight all around me.”

“That's what it does. It only knows despair and uses it as a weapon to overpower people, but it can never stand up against us. We know better. Think of only good things and it cannot defeat us, but we can push it back where it came from. It can't stand up to the light, it can't stand up to us. Together we have power over it. It can't attack us anymore,” she said.

“You really mean those words,” he said.

She smiled, letting him see her unadulterated joy that washed through her. “Now let's put this god back where it belongs and we can finally go home.”

She stood by his side, holding onto his hand. She closed her eyes; let the love flow through her, saturate her soul, let it radiate from her as if she were the sun sent to warm up a frozen earth. “Think of me as I think of you. Drive it back into its own darkness. Let it get lost there. Do to it what it wanted to do to us,” she said.

“Estelle, I … ” Gregory began.

A blast of frigid air tore from the cave, pelting into them with the force of a tornado. She stepped back, brought off balance by it. She leant into the wind, regaining her stability. The wind tore at her clothes, her hair. Tried to pry her hand from Gregory's, but he stood as resolutely as she did, facing the wind, not letting it wash him away. Together they had the power.

He mouthed words, but she couldn't hear against the maelstrom. Her hair blew into her eyes and she tossed the strand aside to see him better. He tried calling to her again, but the words were swept from her ears.

He clutched her close to him, kissing her. The wind tore around them, mad and out of control, whipping up the dirt, loose leaves and twigs that were scattered on the ground. She held onto him, repeating the words that ran straight from her soul. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She gained strength from his arms around her, his tall, solid frame that protected hers, his stability that kept her from being swept away. Together, they could not be touched. Together the god could not win.

The wind torrent stopped, leaving them clinging to each other, breathless and skin tingling. Debris fluttered, scattering on the ground. Estelle coughed the grit from her mouth and tossed her hair from her face. She looked around, saw the rocks and trees just as they were before the blast of icy wind. It was all there. Nothing changed. No destruction, no ruin.

They had done it. They had defeated the god. It had been swept away with the force of its own energy. It had blown itself out caught in the destruction of its own madness.

She beamed, looking up at Gregory. But there was something wrong. He was not returning her smile; instead a cold light was stark in his eyes as he looked over her shoulder. She followed his gaze, stepping away from him to his side. Her elation of moments before was replaced by her own private anguish for standing in a semicircle around them was Jack's crew. All had their swords aimed directly at them.

Her attention was riveted to one of the crew, his face completely blank, uncomprehending but so familiar. Heat uncoiled from the pit of her stomach. She went to step towards him, but Gregory held her back. Complete and utter wretchedness wracked her mind, weakened her body. The god had not been defeated, this was but stage two of its attack. An attack of the most abhorrent kind.

She shook her head, her voice thick, dripping with sorrow. It loaded the heavy silence as she uttered one strangled word. “Father.”

She knew with all certainty what she had to do. Instead of using her gift for protection or to fight, she would use her gift and unlock the wretched souls imprisoned in their bodies.

Despite the physical ache of wanting to go to her father, she stayed her ground, licked dry lips and found her voice. Her melody started, small and tuneless, a bare rasp from her mouth. Gregory squeezed her hand in assurance and she found strength.

She drew a breath and started again. This time the notes flowed more fluently, enough at least to hear the melody. She concentrated on all the men now, attempting to connect with everyone all at the same time. She focused on the many minds she would need to free from the darkness they were trapped in. Her voice began to flow.

The figures stepped towards her, their boots crunched in a simultaneous thud on the ground. Next to her, Gregory withdrew his sword, moving into a fighting stance, knees braced, feet angled ready to move as he needed.

The tension grew. She felt it pulse and crack through the air, an invisible force that connected them all. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore it. She trusted Gregory to keep her safe while her mind worked with her gift.

She reached out with her mind, tentatively probing each individual. At first, there was nothing. Their minds were well buried, manipulated by another force. She prodded further, coming up against a towering wall of solid chilling blackness. These men had been lost a long time.

She explored, probing, testing the strength of the wall, but could not find a passage into their minds. She continued her song, persistent, gently thawing. There was a crunch of boot steps. Next to her Gregory tensed and moved in front of her to act as a barrier between them and her.

She imagined a bright light above each of the men's heads. A beacon so that their souls may find their way back from the dark. She wrapped them in spheres of light, like a cocoon, so that they were encased from head to foot.

There was a shift in the air about her. A breeze started and became a tornado in an instant. It cracked with a frigid chill that stabbed her skin and clawed her clothes. Glacial fingers raked her hair, scraping her face as though she were attacked by the wind itself.

She refused to stop her song. She tipped her chin, defiantly opening herself to attack. And still she sang. Her voice rang out loud and clear. She heard it resonate over the high-pitched scream of the wind.

The men started to attack, wielding swords to main and kill. Gregory fended them off. Steel rang against steel as their swords clashed. Gregory was in full fight, slashing with every ounce of his ability. She heard him grunt, the breath hiss between his teeth. He was holding them back, but he wouldn't be able to fight so many for long.

She needed to work fast, concentrating on the light, entwining the chords of her voice so that it soaked into the blackness of their minds, that they may wander towards it and find their exit.

A clash of thunder pounded through the whining torrent of wind. Lightening cracked into the ground. The god was fighting to keep its collection of souls. Estelle saw a glimpse of long dark hair, streaking wildly in the violent wind. There was a call of a different kind, a chant that cut through the maelstrom.

The old woman — the witch — stood on the ledge surrounding the cave. Behind her figures appeared. More and more came, standing in a line shoulder to shoulder. All familiar faces. All from her home village. Next to the witch were Dalia and Claire. Estelle's heart leapt.

They raced down the incline, charging into the crew. Screams rent the air, the taste of fear streamed into every pore of her body as the women fought with the crew. Gregory's face was streaked with sweat and grime. Perspiration and blood marked his shirt, but he held his ground, protecting her from attack. She caught her breath, went to go to him, but he waved her away.

“Keep going,” he yelled.

The witch caught Estelle's gaze, fierce determination sparking their contact. Estelle didn't know how or why she was here, or how she had brought the village to help her, and she didn't stop to wonder. All answers would come.

She steadied herself, forgetting the wind, the witch, the stinging on her cheek and the danger of their predicament. She concentrated on her voice. This time it came from her with a strength she never knew she had. The melody flew from her mouth, born onto the wind, dissipating until it washed all around them. This time she controlled the tune. Imagined it wrapped around each man's head, dispersing into their minds, leading them upwards from the dark.

She probed deep, stabbing the dark voids with lightening streak of brilliant light. She submerged her consciousness with each mind, until she couldn't feel her body anymore and her thoughts were the total of who she was.

“Find the light,” she called. “Come here. I will lead you out.”

She detected a movement and she moved her consciousness over to it. There huddled in a pitiful group were white faces. Their frames were stooped, as if they had forgotten what it was like to stand straight and tall. They held their hands against her brightness, their eyes used to the dark for so long.

She smiled and the light flowed through her, thawing the dense icy chill that had become their home. Her breath condensed the chilly air as she spoke. “Come with me. There is a way out. You are not trapped any longer.”

One of the men stepped forward, tentative, wary. “Estelle?” he asked in a rusted voice.

She couldn't contain her smile. She ran to him, gathered his frozen frame in her arms. “Father!” she cried. Tears streaked down her face, but she didn't bother to hide them, just kept her eyes on his face, drinking in the sight of his emancipated, pale face.

“My daughter! I had long ago given up hope of ever seeing you again.” His voice quivered as he clutched her tight, his boney fingers biting into her shoulders. “How did you find us here?”

“That is a long story, father.” Estelle took her father's frigid hand in both of hers, trying to heat them.

“I haven't felt something so warm in years,” he said.

“I had thought you dead,” she said.

“Just here. Lost for so long. I couldn't find a way out. I had resigned myself to dying in this place.”

Estelle shivered. The thought was terrible beyond comprehension. “If I had known, I would have been here for you long ago.”

“And Gregory?” he asked.

“Waiting for you.”

“Then he managed to look after you all these years?”

“That also is a long story. But we'll have plenty of time to fill you in on these lost years when we are safe. Are you ready?”

“I am beyond ready,” he answered.

“You all have to trust me.” She looked into all their faces, making sure that they understood. “This is your only chance. You have to follow me through the light. Does everyone understand?”

She waited until they had all nodded. They huddled closer, anticipation breaking through the endless fear that become their constant companion. “If you feel the cold, if anything tries to take you back, you have to ignore it. Just focus on the light and the warmth.”

“Nothin' is goin' to stop me, lass. I'm with you all the way,” a voice piped up.

“Me neither,” another consented.

There was a murmur of agreement all around. Estelle nodded. “All right. This isn't going to be easy. Everyone, look out for each other. If anyone lags behind, someone let us know. We need to stay together as a group.”

“Let's get goin', I've been here long enough,” a gravelly voice from the back of the group said.

“All right. Remember, no one stays behind,” she said.

She concentrated on the warmth, the light and started her song. The layers of bleak nothingness striped away to a dark dreary grey. One of the men exclaimed his surprise.

She focused her melody to surround all of them. She imagined the chords spiraling around them so fast that they were covered with a blinding cover of light on all sides. It generated heat and the men groaned as their frozen limbs started to thaw.

The greys merged into blurry spots of twinkling color, which then focused into distinct objects. Shapes became trees, branches, leaves. Darker patches became rocks, boulders. The ground solidified beneath her feet and met with the sound of boots crunching on gravel. The fresh air pressed like silk against her skin. Her mind was once again encased in her body.

She focused on the men fighting her friends. One by one they stirred, for the first time in a long time, emotion registering on their faces. They blinked their eyes back into focus, staggered as they started to control forgotten limbs.

There was a murmur of surprise that fast turned into an elated chorus. The villagers scooped the men into their arms. The men slapped each other on the back, laughing with their new-found freedom. They tossed off their black broad-brimmed hats, shrugged out of their black coats, taking away signs of their unearthly imprisonment.

“You have done it, Estelle.”

She was instantly swept up in Gregory's strong, protective arms. He held her off the ground, pressing her into his chest to that they were face to face. She threw her arms around his neck, elation washing through her as it finally registered she was back. Back in his arms, back where she wanted to be — her rightful place.

“I think I did,” she said, amazement washed through her voice.

She looked at the men, her face stretched wide into a heartfelt smile, wondering at the power of her gift, for that was what it was to her now. Not a talent or a defense tactic. It was a gift, used to help, not to fight or flee. It had blossomed within her, so much a part of her now as her everlasting love for Gregory.