In The Dark Of Dreams Part 19

"I don't know," he said, despair creeping on him. He had been stupid to think the witch would help him find the kra'a.

It is with you.

Look between the two of you for the answers you seek.

What did that mean?

"What did she mean?" Jenny asked, as though reading his thoughts. "About us? What is this . . . beast, and the . . . kra'a . . . you kept talking about? I need to understand."

"I told you that the woman you found was important."

"Pelena. You and she were . . . close."

He didn't miss the odd note in her voice when she said that. "My cousin."

Jenny blinked. "I'm sorry."

Perrin rubbed his face. "She was kind. She liked . . . A'lesander."

"He's good at that. Making people like him."

Rage clawed up his throat. "Pelena possessed the kra'a. It is an . . . organism . . . that bonds to the skulls of my kind and gives them special abilities. Specifically those related to calming the-" Perrin stopped, reaching for Jenny as she swayed, pale.

"Bonds," she echoed, her lips barely moving.

"Jenny," he said, touching her brow, finding it hot.

A strange ache swept through him. His scalp tingled. A deep vibrato hiss vibrated his eardrums, but the sound shifted, rising into a screaming, crackling crescendo that made him shut his eyes in pain.

The world rocked sideways. His bones turned liquid, and so did the sand beneath him. He didn't realize he was swaying until he toppled sideways, slamming his fist into the moving beach to keep from going down completely. The rocking sensation didn't stop. It got worse.

Earthquake.

He had never been in an earthquake on land. Panic hit him. Stomach-dropping nausea. Land had always felt strange-hard, heavy, all sharp edges. No safe place to rest, no place ever to rest, not with gravity bearing him always down. In the sea, he had been weightless, capable of flight, coc.o.o.ned in that ever-present embrace of water. Land offered only cages, and unexpected pain.

Jenny made a small sound of distress. Perrin dragged her into his arms. Little on the beach could hurt them-they were too far from the forest to fear falling trees-but the shaking worsened, tearing rocks free of the sand, knocking his teeth together-jolting him and Jenny with a growing, gathering violence that made him feel as though he sat on top of some imminent explosion.

His fear disappeared. Burned up in rage. Useless, impotent. Just like him.

You caused this, he imagined his father saying. You did this with your thoughtless, vile actions-and there will never be a place for you, never a home, never rest- Jenny's fingers dug into his shoulder. Perrin held her tighter, burying his face in her hair. She was talking to him, but he didn't hear her at first-too distracted, caught up in the terrible knowledge of what was causing this quake.

He closed his eyes and felt the thrust of energy from the quake pushing through the ocean like a fist, displacing water in a ma.s.sive ring that surged outward with punishing force.

And behind that, deeper, not so far away -coiled, buried in heat- -a stirring, the tremble of a terrible eye- Perrin froze, unable to move or breathe as that vision, the encompa.s.sing fullness of it, sank from his head into the base of his skull, down his spine into his chest. His heart hammered. Overwhelmed.

He was too late to save anyone. No matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough.

Jenny made another small sound. Perrin came back to himself, gathering her closer. The earthquake was finally subsiding, but her eyes were squeezed shut, face pale, so pained her lips were white and pressed together in a hard line. Focused, fighting to hold herself together.

"Jenny," he said.

"There's something in my mind," she whispered.

Chills rode through him. "Tell me."

She shook her head, scrunching even deeper into his arms. Perrin didn't know how to comfort her. He didn't even know how to comfort himself. He was afraid to know what she was feeling, afraid that it was the same thing that had just been inside him.

Visions of the sleeping beast. The monster rising from dreams.

Impossible, he told himself. For her and him. He shouldn't have been able to see anything. His mind had been dead to the sea for eight years.

You share dreams. You might share other things. But the thought made him feel grim and helpless.

Perrin hummed to Jenny-for her, and himself. His rumbling voice was rusty, ill-used, but the memory of the song she had sung to him, sixteen years ago, bled bright in his mind. Centering his focus, as it always did.

There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy . . . they say he wandered very far, over land and sea. . .

Human music was full of prophets. Magic. Nat King Cole.

Jenny relaxed in his arms. Perrin studied the ocean, music dying in his throat. The tide seemed unchanged.

But that wouldn't last.

"We need to leave the beach," he said. Jenny nodded, drawing in a deep breath as though to steady herself. Perrin slid his hand beneath her jaw. Her skin was soft against his scarred, callused palm.

He tried to speak, failed-and then managed to put words in his mouth that felt rough, even angry. He wasn't certain anymore that he knew how to speak without sounding like he wanted to fight.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said.

She stared at him with such uncertainty. Perrin brushed his thumb over her mouth, filled with aching, terrible loss-and some nameless need that was stronger than fear, stronger than anger.

A need to just . . . be . . . with her. Didn't matter how or in what way, just that this, here, now . . . he had to protect her. Forget the rest of the world. Forget shame, forget pride. This woman had only been a dream before-not flesh and blood. Losing her presence in his mind, in his darkest hour, had been almost more than he could bear.

Losing her again . . . was unthinkable.

"Your eyes," she said.

Perrin didn't know what she saw in his eyes, but he couldn't look away to hide. He couldn't speak. He felt huge compared to her. A scarred, broken monster.

But he tried, he tried very hard, to be gentle as he leaned down and brushed his lips over her brow. She tasted warm, sweet. Her fingers dug even more deeply into his shoulders, and he pulled her as close as he dared. He was afraid to wonder what her silence meant.

"I won't let anything happen," he whispered again, against her hair.

Liar, part of him said.

No, he told it. No.

Perrin tried to stand. The tremors were fading, but he felt dizzy, off-balance. Jenny staggered to her feet, gripping his arms as she stared from him to the sea. "You think we're in danger from a tsunami."

"A minor wave, but it will happen quick. We're near the quake zone."

"We need higher ground."

"And we don't have much time to find it." Perrin led Jenny toward the trees. Anything soft in her eyes was gone, her jaw set, hard with determination. Tough, he thought. But not tough enough to hide the hollows of exhaustion in her face. She didn't try freeing her hand from his. Not that he would have let her.

Find purpose where you can, he told himself. Maybe the kra'a is lost, but you still have a reason to keep fighting.

Sand gave way to rock, hard earth. Hurt his feet. Jenny wasn't wearing shoes, either. Perrin swung her up into his arms. She weighed nothing.

"I can keep up," she protested.

"One of us has to be able to walk after this is over."

Her expression hardened even more. "Put me down. Right now. Your feet-"

"I don't need my feet after this," Perrin interrupted sharply. "Don't squirm so much."

She hadn't been squirming, even a little, but he wanted her to stop telling him to put her down. Wasn't going to happen. He tried not to look at the bruises forming on her arms.

He pushed hard into the forest, angling for open areas that were few and far between, especially for a man his size, carrying a woman. Vines twisted, gnarly and thick, winding like ropes from the tall trees that shaded the ground in a canopy so thick the shadows were blissfully soft and dark. Eased the burden on his eyes, but not his body. Trapped air, no breeze. Hot air slammed his lungs, coating him in sweat. He had never done well in hot weather.

Birds screamed overhead, and small, furred animals rustled through the leaves. Once, he heard hissing. Perrin hardly noticed. He focused only on taking each hard step. Thorns raked his legs and arms, and the edges of leaves sliced open his skin. His feet tore, and bled. He lost track of time. Fifteen, twenty minutes. Enough time for the wave to hit. It might be hours yet for other coastlines, but they were near the epicenter, and he felt the pulse, the displacement of water. Energy released from undersea earthquakes moved as fast as human aircraft.

Perrin pushed himself harder, struggling up a rocky incline that strained his muscles to the breaking point. Jenny was very still and small in his arms, but he felt her watching him-her gaze burning through him-and he finally couldn't help but glance down at her. He had to stop when he did. Dizzy.

"Put me down," Jenny said, quiet. "You've taken us far enough. You're hurting yourself."

Perrin hesitated. She placed her hand on his chest, exerting a gentle pressure that was less a push than rea.s.surance. The contact, and the compa.s.sion behind it, seared him to the bone. He looked away, quick, afraid she would see something frightening in his eyes.

He set her down. Jenny swayed, holding his arm for balance-so much smaller than him, but strong. When she stepped away, she winced-a rock, maybe, so many sharp things on the forest floor. She glanced down at her feet-then his-and swore.

"Stop," he said sharply. "I haven't crippled myself."

"Congratulations." Jenny gave him an angry look. "And when you do?"

"I'll keep moving. I'll keep surviving," he told her, sounding so cold-feeling cold. "This is nothing."

She stood still, studying him. Her gaze dropped to his shoulders, tracking the scars that covered his chest and arms. Most had been caused in the ugliness that had begun his exile, but there were old wounds from knives, homemade weapons. A bullet. Whatever could kill. Etched into his skin.

All of which was nothing compared to the scars that couldn't be seen.

Jenny stilled, glancing away from him. Searching the forest. Perrin also quieted himself, listening hard, trying to feel the world as he once had. He noticed instantly the hush in the trees-birdsong, gone-and suffered a powerful longing for the sea that slipped through him like a searing blade.

She closed her eyes. "It's coming."

Perrin didn't bother asking how she knew. The sea witch had indicated she was part of a special bloodline-and regardless of his personal feelings, he knew better than to question a statement like that.

He pulled Jenny up another incline, skirting rotten logs, and other debris hidden by the tangled, knee-deep undergrowth. She stumbled, her breathing labored. He led her to a tree that looked easy to climb, and st.u.r.dy. Strangling vines bristling with leaves covered the trunk, and wispy blooming plants that looked like orchids.

He crouched and cupped his hands. Jenny stepped onto his palms, and he propelled her toward a low-lying branch that was thick as his thigh. She grabbed on with both arms and hauled herself over with a grunt.

Perrin did not climb after her. He wasn't even sure he could. Learning how to walk and run, all those years ago, had been difficult enough.

Jenny wrapped her legs around the branch and reached down. "Come on."

"No," he said. "I'll be fine."

She gave him a hard look and began to swing herself down. Perrin reached up with one long arm and pushed his palm against her dangling foot. "What are you doing?"

"Shut up," she muttered. "You're not safe down there, either. You won't drown, but if a wave reaches this far inland, it could still break your bones. I was off the coast of Sumatra during that tsunami, years ago. I saw what it did to people, afterward."

Perrin had heard about that disaster. He had wondered, then, if it was a portent of things to come-though the earth often moved, and shifted, on its own.

What they had just felt was not nearly as strong. The waves would not be as high.

But he wasn't taking any risks with Jenny.

"Stay up there," he told her.

"Make me," she shot back. "Or get up here, too."

"I can't climb."

She drew back, thoughtful. "I guess not."

Having her agree didn't make Perrin feel any better. Worse, maybe. Far away, through the trees, he heard a hissing roar, followed by cracks, snapping pops-like bones breaking. Birds exploded from the canopy, screaming.

Jenny reached for him again. "Please."

Perrin set his jaw and hooked fingers and toes into the hard thick knots of the vines wrapped around the tree. He slipped-then tried again, making it a short distance off the ground. He felt as though he were trying to wrestle a whale-which, if memory served, was one of those fruitless idiotic things that only the young and very stupid ever tried to do.

Like him. And A'lesander. Pelena, too.

Perrin ground his teeth-listening to that hissing roar grow louder, in his ears and inside his head-a rough rumble of water rushing through the forest, breaking and pushing. Made him feel dizzy-but no, that was the earth shaking again. Aftershock.

"Come on!" Jenny shouted at him, pale.

Perrin ignored her, watching the bottom of the hill as muddy water swelled through the trees like a swollen river, smashing the rocky incline, flowing around it, searching out flat land and covering leaves, tearing vines, snapping branches. The hungry lips of the wave pressed and pressed higher against the slope of the hill.

Two feet, three feet-four-until finally, finally, it seemed to stop.

Perrin leaned away from the tree, and all it took was three steps to reach the water. He swept his hand through it, suffering a tingle in his skin-not from the sea, but from the lingering effects of the energy pulse released from the earthquake. He could feel it-still hot.

Jenny slid down out of the tree, gripping the trunk as though she needed it to stay upright. "That was no minor wave."

Perrin grunted. "Depends on your point of view. Stay there."

He slipped into the water before she could protest, sliding completely under the surface. He did not shift his lower body, but his translucent second lids dropped over his eyes. Gills tore open with a brief stab of pain.