Into the Wind by Shira Anthony Read Free Book Online

our people, we know that the humans believed the stone was a powerful weapon.”
    “Is it that powerful?” asked Taren.
    Vurin shook his head. “I don’t know. What I do know is that it can only be wielded by one of our people. One person, perhaps, given what you’ve told me of Owyn.”
    The image of a dying Owyn flashed through Taren’s mind yet again. He willed it away with a shudder. “You believe I’m the wielder.”
    Vurin nodded and motioned for Taren to follow him as he moved behind one of the rock formations. Taren noticed an opening in the cliff face. He’d been down here before, but he’d never seen it. Vurin smiled at him, then slipped through the rocks and disappeared on the other side. Taren followed.
    “You’ve returned to us for a purpose, Taren.” Vurin’s voice echoed inside the cavern.
    Taren’s eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness. In here, the waves sounded distant. Water dripped from the high ceiling of the cave, landing with an almost musical tone as it hit the rocks underfoot.
    Vurin stretched out his hands, then closed his eyes and muttered words in a language Taren did not understand. Taren blinked as two small spheres of blue light appeared, one on each of Vurin’s palms. They floated upward and hovered above, illuminating the cave.
    “What…?” Taren gasped.
    “This is our past, Taren,” Vurin said as Taren took in the intricate carvings on the cave walls.
    Everywhere he looked, Taren saw images of Ea swimming through underwater structures that appeared to be built from stone and coral. Ea children swam alongside their parents, men and women brought offerings to an underwater temple, and Ea swam in and out of an ornate building that looked very much like the drawings of castles Taren remembered from the picture books Borstan had read to him as a child.
    “How old…?” Taren asked, overwhelmed with the beauty and the implications of what he saw.
    Vurin shook his head. “Far older than the ruins of the temple, at least. Several thousand years old, perhaps more. The ancient texts tell of this place, and how our ancestors came to this land from far away, and of how they built their home here, in Callaecia.
    “Few people have ever seen this shrine,” Vurin added. “In the time of Treande and Owyn, only the priests knew of it.”
    “It’s beautiful,” Taren said as he walked over to the nearest carving and pressed his hand to the stone.
    “I believe this place was meant to remind us of who we once were, and of what we might become if our people can overcome their fear.” Vurin joined Taren at the wall and put his own palm against the surface. “The first step to understanding your future is admitting your fear, Taren.”
    “I don’t know if my heart can survive the past.” Taren could barely speak the words.
    “It already has.” Vurin smiled. “Now is the time to gather your courage for what is to come.”
     
     
    T ARENHADplanned on heading back to town to rejoin Ian, who was helping Renda and his wife rethatch the roof of the house they’d built on an ancient crumbling foundation. Instead, he walked the rocky shore and watched as some of the villagers tossed nets into the water. It still seemed strange to him that the Ea fished as humans. Not that there weren’t some in the village who fished in their Ea forms, but as best as Taren could tell, they did so more for the sport of it than to provide food for the village.
    He reached the edge of the cove and stepped into the water to avoid the outcropping that blocked the sandy trail. The late-afternoon sun hung low on the horizon, and the temperature had begun to drop in its wake. He knew he had walked this trail a hundred—perhaps a thousand—times before as Treande. Each step felt familiar; each sound reminded him of the happiness he’d had here with Owyn and called to mind the promise of his future with Ian.
    The sky filled with white clouds that danced about, taking on the shapes of familiar things. A