Into the Wind by Shira Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

boat, a bird, a dog. Taren watched as the dog seemed to sprout wings like a dragon’s. He thought of what Vurin had said about dragons. A year before, he’d not have believed merfolk were anything but legend. Now, he wondered how much of the world he’d failed to see. Why not dragons? Or sea monsters? Or furies? Or sirens who caused ships to wreck? Why should he doubt the existence of things simply because he’d never seen them for himself?
    He walked for nearly an hour, taking comfort in the peace he felt as his bare feet met the familiar path and the breeze off the water caressed his bare shoulders. He glanced at the nearby hill to where he’d seen the ruins of a small house once before. Much like what was left of the house he and Owyn had shared on the cliffs near the village, the vestiges of the white stone foundation were all that was left to memorialize the dwelling.
    “You are troubled as always, Treande. Or should I call you Taren?”
    Taren spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, sure that he’d imagined it. But the old woman smiled at him from the base of the crooked tree trunk where she sat, cross-legged, her milky eyes unseeing, her white hair so thin he could see her scalp beneath.
    “ You ? But that’s impossible. The last time I saw you—”
    Her cackled laughter reminded him of the creaking sound the ropes on the Phantom made when wound tight against the winch. “I’m pleased you remember. I am Aerin,” she added with a slight nod.
    He remembered well—he’d seen her before he’d been thrown into the Ea prison. And before that in the marketplace when he’d still been a rigger aboard the Sea Witch. A vision! How had he not realized it before? Of course she wasn’t real.
    “Has it taken you this long to understand?” She laughed again. “Then again, you were always a bit naïve.”
    He bristled at her tone but wondered why he’d reacted that way. She was an old woman and deserved his respect. And yet the familiarity in his reaction made him wonder all the more. But if she was a vision or a memory, how could she speak to him like this?
    She offered him a toothless smile as he studied her cautiously. “You’re a mage,” he said.
    “I was a priestess once,” she replied. “Many centuries ago. I studied with Treande and Owyn at the great temple. My daughter, Zea, was the last of the Ea priestesses. She died when you were still quite young.”
    “But if you studied with Treande and Owyn—” He stopped speaking as the realization came to him. There was no other explanation. Ea lived two hundred years at best.
    “Ah, now you begin to understand, don’t you, Taren? Not all visions are memories.” She smiled and something in his memory stirred. She had been quite beautiful once. He was sure of it.
    “You’re… a ghost?”
    She laughed. “Call me what you will. A ghost. A spirit. A promise made long ago.”
    “A promise? To Treande?”
    “Now you understand, don’t you?” She turned and looked out over the water as if remembering something, then cackled again. “You always called me a pest.”
    “I… I didn’t—”
    “I called him far worse.” She grinned and her eyes sparkled with pleasure.
    Taren stared at her in surprise, then laughed in spite of himself.
    “You’re younger than he was when we first met,” she continued.
    “Tell me about him,” Taren said.
    She smiled and shook her head. “You needn’t hear about your own past from me. You can see the truth far more clearly with your own gift of sight.”
    “Then why are you here? What promise did you make him?”
    Her smile disappeared quickly as her expression grew serious. “What are you waiting for, Taren?” she asked, ignoring his question. “You must find the keeper.”
    “Keeper of the rune stone?”
    “Odhrán.”
    “Odhrán? But where—?” he began, his words failing him as he saw her body dissolve in a spray of salt.
     
     
    T ARENWALKEDthe bluffs by Ian’s side a few hours later.