Shadow of the Avatar

Chapter 29 -- Immolation

Be. It's such a simple word. My experiences with it have made me wish it was stricken from the language.

--Wren

Wren lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling, the image blurring and distorting as she watched. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since they left herself and Desiray alone in the room, but it seemed to have been bells. Perspiration trickled down her face. She could hear the thump of her heart, and the scratchy rattle of her breaths. Somewhere in the distance, wind chimes made silvery tinkling sounds. The acrid scent of freshly burned redbark incense hung in the air, the lingering tendrils of the thick smoke forming spirals against the dark rafters. Her mouth tasted dry, her lips felt swollen. Taking everything into account, there'd been times she'd felt worse, but feeling herself grow steadily weaker and knowing her chances for recovery were getting more slim with each passing moment made the situation a particularly poignant hell.

"Wren?" Desiray asked in a faint voice. "You awake?"

She swallowed. "Uh huh." It was getting hard to talk.

"Do you hate me?"

It took a moment for her to grasp the question. She rolled her head on the pillow and found the Mistress studying her, emerald eyes glassy.

"I hated Hethanon--I think--and the bastard that--that killed Grahm. Everything else--" She paused, it took effort to speak. "My own damn--fault. Should have left the moment you installed Vulcindra. Knew--knew day one that nothing would be right again."

"Really?"

"Really. I couldn't believe it. No one had the--had the guts to tell you, it was a bunch of--doo doo."

Desiray frowned. "When you get older--some decisions...Some decisions you'll make will be unpopular. Sometimes--" She drew a breath. "Sometimes, you have to pay your debts."

"I--" She moistened her lips. "I have a debt to Vulcindra. She's--she's going to get everything--everything she's due--with interest."

Desiray shook her head. "You'll have to stand in line."

"As long as she's still alive--when it's--my turn."

"Don't--" she groaned. "Don't worry. Damn." She wiped the sweat on her brow. "Starting to think--we may not--get...the...chan--"

The room grew dimmer in Wren's sight and Desiray's words faded into muted hum. The humming grew in volume until it sounded like the crashing of waves. Something hard was pressing into the small of her back. It had been bells since she'd had the strength to shift herself, but the irritation made her try.

She moved--easily. Her hand was pressing against a soft texture that wasn't fabric or stone. With a start she realized it was grass. Her eyes snapped open. She was looking into deep azure sky scudded with clouds. At the edge of her vision she saw needlewood trees.

Then she realized that the weakness was gone. She started to sit up and a hand pressed her back. Abruptly, a leg swung over and a person was straddling her. Deep brown eyes gazed into hers.

Wren's heart jumped and her whole body went hot. "Grahm!"

He looked no different than when she last dreamed. Dressed in green leather, his boyish features fresh, dark hair loose and hanging over one shoulder.

Grahm smiled at her, but the smile quickly became a frown. "What are you doing? Hmmm?"

She blinked. The question made no sense to her; none of this did. How did she get back with Grahm again? Was she dreaming? Dying?