On the Isle of Sound and Wonder (35 page)

“Look,” Ferran whispered, his voice creaking. “Oh, look . . .”

Each man’s blood faded quickly, flowing backward and vanishing beneath hair and muscle and sinew once more. The bruises bloomed in reverse, growing pinker and then returning to each man’s own healthy shade of skin. They breathed normally, and slept soundly.

The tiger looked briefly at Mira, then turned her head at last toward Dante on the ground, and growled softly.

“What is going on?” Ferran wheezed, pressing a hand to his sore side again.

“A final ghost-to-face,” Mira announced a little wryly, looking down at her father. “Do you know her? She knows you.” The tiger bared her teeth at Dante, who flinched and quivered, then moved past Mira to where Ferran sat.

“Oh. Oh, dear. Oh, no,” Ferran stammered as the cat came close. She purred as she sniffed at him, though, and he flinched visibly when she nudged him with her broad head. After a moment, he raised an unsteady hand to stroke the thick neck, and met Mira’s eyes in astonishment.

At last, the tiger moved to stand in front of Karaburan, her pale blue eyes wide. Strange expressions played across Karaburan’s face as he stared back at her in silence.

“Have I been bad?” Karaburan whispered. “I’m sorry if I was bad.” The tiger padded forward and he put his arms around her neck like a child.

Mira looked down at her father. Dante lay exhausted and shivering on the sand beneath Aurael’s gleaming claws, as the sky began to lighten with the first glow of dawn.

“You see?” she said gently. “Now there is healing.”

“It was my destiny, child!” Dante wheezed. “And yours, too. We cannot fight what is already woven for us.”

Mira paused and looked at the huge, ragged volume in her hands. She glanced back at Dante. “No, Father. There is no such thing as destiny. There are different little paths for all of us to choose from, but we create what is, and we determine the endings. You chose your paths, and those paths brought you here. Aurael,” Mira went on, turning to look at the harpy-shaped spirit, “I free you of your slavery to my father, and bid you do no ill will toward any present here.”

Aurael looked ecstatic, then confused. “Wait. You won’t let me avenge myself?”

“No. Enough trouble has been made here. Go, and be a free fae once more.” Mira gestured once with her hand, and the spirit shuddered, his harpy’s wings and claws melting away until he was a slender, silver-blue boy once more. He looked simultaneously relieved and frustrated, and sat awe-struck on the sand in silence. Aurael turned to look at the tiger, squinting as though he recognized her from somewhere.

“Karaburan, I free you, too.” Mira gestured with her hand at Karaburan as well. “No more curses, no more slavery, no more deception. You are the king of this island now.”

Karaburan nodded his head somberly, his pale eyes watery and full of awe.

“Father.” Mira turned just as Dante struggled to sit up. He fell back on the sand, breathing shallowly. She moved closer and knelt beside him. He looked frail and winded. “Father, what is it?”

“You fool,” Dante growled. “Your breaking of the spell has weakened me. Give me back the book and the staff, so I can heal myself.” There was a look of fever about him, and his eyes were shut as he lay quivering. “I was so close to the end . . . Let me finish my work.”

“No! I won’t give them to you,” Mira cried, furious. “Don’t you see this is killing you? Look what you’ve become!” Ferran moved to put out a hand to steady her as she shivered, her own body weary from escaping the caves.

Dante groaned, and his tone grew softer. “All I wanted was Sophia, to see her smile again. I would have traded you for her in a heartbeat . . . and for that, I am sorry. Perhaps if I had taught you my art, you would not betray me now.” His face twisted with pain, and he opened his eyes to gaze up at her.

“You treated me like a pet until it became inconvenient to take care of me,” Mira protested through gritted teeth, tears swimming in her eyes. Ferran could feel her shaking. “When I was endangered, you did not comfort me.”

“I wanted you to grow strong, and so you did.” Dante coughed again, shutting his eyes from the brightness of hers. “I was strong, too . . . before I poured my soul into my instruments.”

“Mira, the book,” Ferran murmured. “And the staff. He must have put so much of his own will and force into the book and the staff that they were keeping him alive.”

Dante opened his eyes again, fearfully looking up at his daughter.

Mira’s jaw worked silently for a moment. “What happens if they are destroyed?”

Her father did not answer for a long moment. “You would murder me, child.”

Mira looked at the glowing runes on the staff in her hand, searching for some answers in the design. She glanced back at the tiger, who watched in silence.

“If I break the staff, she goes, too,” Mira said grimly. “The staff was hers, once, before it was yours. Before it was mine.” She squeezed it ‘til her knuckles turned white, and then she relaxed her grip once more.

“Don’t send me away, daughter!” Dante murmured, his watery eyes frantic. “We can still make things right. We can still bring your mother back if we work together, child. Save me!”

“He will rise again if you let him live!” cried Aurael shrilly, his silvery face sharp with anger. “We’ll be trapped here forever!”

“He’ll beat us,” whimpered Karaburan, from beside the tiger.

Ferran’s mouth was a thin line. “It’s the only way to end all this,” he said firmly.

“I am dying,” Dante croaked. “But if you use the book, you could bring me back. You could heal me, fix me, daughter. Please . . . the book!” His eyelids fluttered.

At this, the tiger gave an insistent growl, moving out of Karaburan’s arms and padding on huge paws toward them. Ferran recoiled just behind Mira’s shoulder, but Mira did not flinch back.

“Father,” Mira said again, her voice breaking. “I won’t—”

Dante opened his eyes again to look at her, and her words stuck in her throat for a moment. She sat in silence, trying to summon the words to tell him how she hated him. For all those years he had manipulated and controlled her, and most of all, ignored her very existence. And yet, as he stared at her, new words formed on her tongue, and although it was the last thing she had intended to do, now Mira couldn’t stop herself from begging.

“Please,” she blurted out, reaching for the tiger. “Do something. Help me fix him! You healed those men, and you healed Ferran and Kabu.” She felt dampness on her cheeks, unable to tear her eyes from her father’s. “I know he was wrong, I know he betrayed you, betrayed all of us, but we can fix him, can’t we? Please . . . Help me heal my father, please, I’m begging you. I don’t know how to do this on my own!”

“Mira, are you sure?” Ferran was shocked. “You just said—”

The great jungle cat interrupted with a growl and turned back to Dante, whose breathing came ragged and shallow, his face etched with agony. The tiger bent forward, long whiskers brushing at Dante’s body. She paused, hesitating over his chest, and looked at Mira. Mira nodded without looking down at her father.

“I trust you.” She had no idea what would happen next. Nor could she remember why she had hesitated to save his life. “Please.”

The tiger bent her head down, placed one paw on his stomach, and sank her teeth into Dante’s chest.

Mira recoiled in alarm and Ferran made a sound of horrified disgust. The tiger did not ravage Dante, she simply bit into him as delicately as a dog might reach into a hole to retrieve a bone. Dante struggled under the weight of the tiger’s paw on his body. No blood spurted forth, no skin or viscera tore off, but the tiger dug down to something buried deep in his chest, her head passing like a ghost through his solid form.

“What on earth!” Ferran breathed in amazement.

The tiger lifted her head slowly again, and something oily, black, and snarling writhed in her jaws. It squirmed and coiled like an octopus, hissing in anger at being removed from its housing, and writhed in protest even as the tiger pulled it out of Dante’s chest. It flailed its wispy tendrils, lashing at the tiger’s maw. Dante lay wheezing softly on the sand as the tiger shook her head violently, trying to rid herself of the black thing.

“What is that thing?” Ferran cried.

“I don’t know!” Mira had never seen anything like it.

“Curses and hatefulness,” moaned Karaburan. Mira lunged forward to reach for the black thing, but the tiger yanked it out of the way.

“Don’t touch it, or you’ll catch it, too!” Ferran yelped. “She’s stuck! She touched it and now she’s stuck!”

Karaburan shifted his weight back and forth, seeming torn between backing away in fear and wanting to save his tiger mother.

            “We have to get it off of her!” Mira commanded, grabbing the staff and reaching out to scrape the writhing dark shadow off of the tiger’s face.

“Gods help us, it’s growing!” Ferran cried in horror. The thing made a squelching noise, its tendrils stretching even longer and whipping out to begin to envelop the tiger’s face. It hissed and squirmed away from the staff when it came near, and the tiger danced backward, shaking her head frantically.

Mira swung at it again and again, but it dodged, slipping out of reach. Finally, she feinted to the left and struck to the right, connecting with the squelchy thing. With a shock of blue-white light, it squeaked and released the tiger’s face, flopping down onto the sand, curling and uncurling its tentacle-like arms. As it began to scuttle away, Mira swung again, missing several times. Frustration seared through her, and she hauled back, slamming the staff squarely into the creature’s center. The black thing made a cracking sound, dissolving into a fine powder.

The tiger growled irritably, and lay down on the sand, looking worn out and dizzy. Karaburan hurried over to stroke her fur, fretting over her.

“What was that?” muttered Ferran, completely confused.

Mira shook her head. “I don’t know. A curse?” She looked at the tiger anxiously. “Or maybe just the corruption of his spirit?”

“Did it work?” Ferran peered over at Dante.

Mira touched her father’s shoulder cautiously. “Father?” she asked. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slack. “Father, can you hear me?”

After another moment, Mira pressed her palm to his chest to make sure his heart still beat, and then Dante drew a deep breath and opened his eyes slowly. He looked younger now, healthier, and he gazed up at Mira with an expression of relief and gratitude.

“Mira,” he whispered, as though surprised to see her. “My daughter!”

“Did it work?” Ferran asked again, anxiously.

“Oh, gods,” Dante breathed. “What have I done?”      

Mira frowned, her chest tight with uncertainty. “How do you feel?” She moved her hand to where the tiger had bit him, but there was no mark, no trace that the teeth had pulled a strange black shadow from his chest.

Dante simply gazed at her in breathless joy, smiling as his gray eyes filled with tears. “I feel tired . . . but I am so proud of you,” he whispered. “And I am ashamed. I am so, so sorry for what I’ve done.” He looked dizzy from the realization.

Mira’s throat constricted. “Father,” she stammered, not knowing quite what to say. “Are you all right?”

“I feel as though a great weight has been lifted,” he told her, his voice soft and full of wonder. “And it’s all because of you.” He reached his hand up to touch her cheek.

Mira took his hand and held it for a moment, her eyes stinging with tears, then reached for his shoulder to help him. “Sit up. Here, let me help you.”

Ferran moved to the other side and helped steady the older man as he sat up, looking nearly like a completely different person. The hard lines of Dante’s face had softened, and his eyes were full of light where they had previously only held ice and hard shadows. Mira hardly recognized him.
Was this what he was before the island? Before my mother died?

“I am so sorry,” Dante told Ferran, breathless from his revival, “for all of this terrible ruin. I should not have done this, Prince Ferran.” He leaned forward, trying to get to his feet, but Mira stopped him.

“Father, you have to take it slowly,” Mira insisted. “We’ve just been through a lot, and you’ll need time to heal and rest.”

“I never let you fret over me before,” Dante muttered, shyly. “You’ve grown up so much. Mira, child, I can never earn your forgiveness for this. Nor can I earn theirs,” he added, nodding to the unconscious men on the sand a few yards away.

Mira shushed him. “We must take things one step at a time,” she admonished, shaking her head. “There was something black deep inside your heart, and she pulled it out.” She gestured to the tiger. “Do you understand? Even though you betrayed her in her past life, she still saved you.”

The tiger parted its eyelids to glare at Dante, who reached to take Mira’s hand in his own. “I am sorry for you, too,” Dante told the great beast. His voice was meek. “I have wronged you, too. But perhaps I still have a chance to redeem myself with my daughter.” He looked at Mira. “Please give me a chance to be the father I never was.”

Mira sat back on her heels, studying his face. She struggled to find the words, her feelings ranging from relief to confusion. “Yes,” she answered finally. “You have much to atone for . . . but you are still my father.”

A groan arose from behind them. Ferran and Mira both turned to look; several of the men were stirring. Mira saw Ferran’s expression shift to utter hope as one of the older men raised his head groggily.

Ferran held his breath, peering at the man in the dim early morning light. Then his father’s voice cut through the quiet air and he felt his fear vanish, relief pouring into him.

“Oh, gods, what happened?” King Alanno struggled to sit up, appearing stiff and disoriented, but no longer brutally injured.

“Father!” Ferran scrambled to his feet, hurrying across the sand. He stumbled, but did not stop running until he reached him. “Father, are you all right?”

“Ferran, my boy!” croaked the king, reaching for him, tears springing to his eyes. “My boy, oh, you’re safe, you’re well?”

“I’m fine, are you?” Ferran steadied him as he sat upright, kneeling at his father’s side. “I thought you were dead. I thought you’d drowned!”