The White Dragon (5 page)

Cool water engulfed him. Fear filled him, drowning all thoughts but one:
Get out!

His legs were propelling him back toward the surface almost before he realized what had happened. He crashed into the underbelly of a writhing dragonfish, a beast so huge it blotted out the flickering torches he had briefly glimpsed through the blood-clouded water.
 

No, no, no!
 

Another dragonfish rose beneath him. Its mouth brushed his legs.
 

No! Not my legs!
 

Horrible memories of legless men hauled out of the sea clouded his mind with panic. He'd rather drown than bleed to death on deck in terrible agony.

Help!

He
would
drown if he didn't get to the surface. He'd had no time to fill his lungs with air before—

A flailing spiked tail broadsided him, snapping his head around, tearing open his flesh and nearly knocking him unconscious. Only the trained instincts of the sea-born kept him from involuntarily inhaling—and drowning.
 

Get out, get out, get out!

He boldly pushed between two enormous, heaving bodies which struggled in the maze. He prayed they were too panicked to notice a puny thing like him right now. He prayed that the smell of his blood, now clouding around him, would be concealed by the scent of their own.

Through the wine-dark water, he saw lights flickering above him again. Hope blossomed in him. If he could break the surface. If his family could pull him out before—

A huge body sank down upon him from overhead, pushing him back down.
 

No!

He kicked wildly. Swam out from under it. Got tangled in the net of the maze.
 

The heavy weight of another dragonfish careened into him, trapping him against the net. The tough fiber of the net cut into his skin as he was pushed harder and harder against it.
 

His lungs burned like the Fires of Dar. He was dizzy, growing weak. The weight of the dragonfish would crush him in another moment, leaving his mangled carcass dangling from the net.
 

Sanity came to him a moment before death did. What a fool he was! Instead of pushing uselessly against the net, he now reached through it, then let his right arm grasp the small knife sheathed at his waist. All sea-born folk carried one to cut tangled lines, nets, and seaweed.
 

Fighting the fatal instinct to inhale, Zarien cut through the net's tough fibers and freed himself, slipping out of the deadly maze. He had sunk far below the surface, but hope renewed his strength as he rose through the blood-darkened water.
 

It was the blood, of course, that prevented him from seeing the dragonfish until it was upon him.
 

As its great jaws closed around his torso and its gleaming ivory teeth sank into his flesh, Zarien screamed. Water filled his mouth, his throat, and his lungs, but the agony of the dragonfish's attack was the only sensation he knew as it dragged him down to the age-old destiny of the sea-born folk.

Chapter Two

From one thing, another is born.

 
      
      
      
      
      
—Tansen

The arms which held Zarien were cool and soft, pulling him ever deeper into the dark water.
 

His thoughts returned slowly, coming to him one by one, like lazy waves lapping at the side of a boat. He was underwater. He felt peaceful and serene. He wasn't holding his breath, nor was he drowning. Someone soft and voluptuous and cool-skinned embraced him.
 
He felt no pain. No pain....
 

The dragonfish!

He gave a panicked start as terror quickened his heart. The lush arms tightened their hold around him. He struggled against the embrace, confused and scared.
 

There is nothing to fear.

The rich and unfamiliar feminine voice filled his head. It seemed to come from within him as much as from all around him. Increasingly alarmed, he struggled harder.
 

You're safe now.

They were going deeper and deeper, strong strokes propelling them ever further from the surface and survival.
 

What happened to the dragonfish?
Zarien wondered.

I took you from her.

He went rigidly still. A cold certainty flooded him. He tried to speak, but water filled his mouth. So he asked the question in silence:
Are you Death?

The gentle laughter which greeted this question seemed so incongruous that his eyes snapped open—which was when he finally realized they'd been closed.
 

The darkness surrounding him at this depth was made all the more apparent by the brilliant incandescence of the female creature who held him in her arms. Zarien drew in a sharp breath of astonishment. The fact that this action didn't make him gag or cough, even as he felt the cool water flood his lungs, was startling enough to distract him for a moment. He stared at his companion in bewilderment, now also realizing how inexplicably clear his vision was.
 

You're safe now,
she repeated.

She was as beautiful as she was strange, with veil-like fins flaring around her translucent body, revealing and concealing her voluptuous form as they flowed back and forth. Zarien, who had never before seen a naked woman who wasn't a blood relative, couldn't help staring. Her diaphanous skin glowed silvery-pale, like the moons on a misty night. Her full hips flowed down to a sleek tail whose undulations kept propelling both of them away from all that Zarien knew. Heat crept through his cold limbs as he became aware of the soft globes of her breasts pressed against him. Instead of hair, something like spun pearls grew from her scalp, flowing around her in pellucid strands. She must be a dream. Or perhaps...
 

A goddess
?

No, he
must
be dreaming.
 

You're not dreaming. You fell overboard and were killed by a dragonfish.
 

Then I am dead?
he asked in sorrow.

Not for long.

You will return me to my family?
 

In a way.

Bewildered, he risked another question.
What has happened?
 

Ah.
 

She slowly released him from her grasp, then slid her cool palms along his arms until she was holding his hands. She felt like both flesh and water, both real and unreal, firm and fluid all at once.

The moment he was free of her protective embrace, he could feel the tremendous power of the underwater current. It pulled at his body, dragging fiercely at his weight. Only the grip on his hands kept him from being swept into the current's eddy.
 

Face to face with the sea goddess now, his gaze was inexorably drawn to hers. He looked into the depthless pools of her eyes and saw his fate revealed there, the events of the
bharata
reenacted within her glimmering gaze. He saw himself, foolish in his eagerness, fall overboard when Linyan's oarboat collided with his own. He watched his own struggles beneath the sea's surface, and he wanted to weep when he saw how ferociously the dragonfish had attacked, mauled, and killed him. He saw the goddess tangle fiercely with the dragonfish, then carry his lifeless body away in victory. Embarrassment flooded him as he saw her press her translucent lips against his to breathe life back into him, and he nearly had to look away when he saw her nurse him from those lush breasts to restore his lifeblood.
 

He watched his father return to his mother's boat and tell her and Morven of his death. His mother wept violently as she took a knife and repeatedly cut herself in mourning—an ancient sea-born custom which the Valdani had tried to outlaw. His father, his brother, and his grandfather all blamed themselves for Zarien's death. His mother hoisted dark purple banners from both masts to announce that one of her family had been taken by a dragonfish.
 

I must go back,
Zarien said.
 

His mother's suffering made his heart raw. The guilt and self-condemnation of his male relatives were like the blows of a
stahra
. But he would end their sorrow, would bring rejoicing and celebration to his clan, if he returned.

When the goddess didn't respond, he added more insistently,
Let me go—please!

I didn't save you for them.
Now the voice in his head, so seductive earlier, was as cold as the sea.

He pulled himself out of the visions in her depthless eyes and tried to think. He knew enough about the gods to realize that this one would probably want something in return for giving him life after what the dragonfish had done to him. She hadn't saved him just to send him back to his family.
 

Of course,
he said, aware of the current tugging at his body, aware that the price for life would probably be very high —and death a certainty if he refused.
I thank you for my life. What must I do to earn it?
 

He could have drowned in the beauty of her smile.
You must bring me my consort.
 

If Zarien were alive in the normal sense, he would have choked on his surprise.
Your consort?

The time has come. I must have him, and the sea-born folk need him.

Then you are Sharifar?
he guessed.

Yes.

His body bobbed in the current as he considered her demand.
 

I will be honored to bring him to you, Sharifar. Where will I find him?
 

On land.

He recoiled so sharply that the goddess's own body jerked in response to the tug of his hands, rippling as water rippled in response to sudden movement.
I can't set foot on land,
 
he protested. It was unthinkable. She might as well ask the sun to rise in the west.
 

Yes, you can.

I am sea-bound! We do not—

No, you're not,
she said.
 

Yes, I am. I'm Lascari!

Not really.

My father is—
 

Your father was a drylander.
 

Take that back!
he snapped, heedless of her divinity.
My mother has never—
 

Your real mother died long ago.
 

My moth—
He stopped abruptly, realizing what she had just said.
My real mother?
 

Yes.