Penthos: The Guardian Sea

Chapter Eighteen: Dreamers

“Alright, Penthoseren,” Jarissein said, panting. He barely managed to catch up to her. She was fast, even in demonic form. She sprinted through the trees in her leather archer’s attire, weaving among them like she could predict their placement.

     He fell behind, bending over to put a hand to his knee and regain his breath. He panted and called out louder, “Hey, cat, where are you?!”

     He heard a whisper behind him, “Jarissein,” calling his name. Fear shot through him as he whipped around to find an arrow pointed between his eyes, the sharp head only an inch from his flesh. He chuckled shakily. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you sneaky feline!”

     She giggled and lowered her weapon, ears relaxing as she brushed away a strand of hair. It was so odd to watch her shoot—she was left-handed in everything but writing. He had never seen a left-handed archer, much less one that could put an arrow in the eye of a squirrel from six trees away against the wind. “Come, I want to show you something. Something only I’ve ever seen before. I’ve never even shown—him,” she said, whispering the last few words. Arielle had trouble saying his name. He knew that it killed her inside to not have heard word from him in more than three weeks.

     But in that short time, Jarissein and Arielle had become close friends. Jarissein only ever showed emotion around the princess, locking it away around everyone else. He knew that if he did any different, it meant punishment. Possibly death, if they found out he was befriending his charge.

     He let her tug him along, slinging her bow across her back and putting the arrow away. He noticed her leather corset left a strip of skin between it and her leather skirt, showing elegantly sculpted hip bones and strong back and abdominal muscles. She was so perfect for the Realm. She was warmly beautiful, unlike the cold Anora and the exotic Iressa. She looked like a human dryad, someone whose soul was married with the trees but not quite part of them. She could swim so well as to race the fishes of the fresh water, and wielded a bow as well as any huntsman, even better. And she was kind, always praying over her kills, wishing their Lightforms (Light’s part of the body that was similar in makeup to a soul, but made completely of the creature or person’s exact amount of Light in their bodies) away to the Light Guardian. Arielle Penthoseren was truly a queen to him. Much better than her oldest, vain sister would be, or her soft and emotional middle sister.

     His train of thought was derailed when she lead him to a part of the island he’d never been. It was colorful in the twilight, but the air was strange. He heard no birds and smelled nothing but . . . was that silver?

     She stood upon the white shore and immediately tossed her bow to the sand, stripping off her clothing. He shook his head. They were comfortable with each other now, both being shape-shifters. Once she had unlaced her leather corset, he began shedding his armor. “What are we doing, cat?”

     She looked over her shoulder, through a curtain of light brown hair and smiled at him. “You’ll see.” He growled in frustration. She turned and leapt into the water of the sea.

     He stood bewildered; the wind coming off the water was strangely cold. He noticed that the sun was shrouded through a thin veil of grey mist. “I know where we are,” he called after her, realization suddenly dawning on him. Her head poked up through the water, her bangs plastered to her forehead. “We’re in Penthafjeim. The Dream Shores.” She smiled big and beckoned to him, slipping back beneath the oddly grey water. He steeled himself for the cold, and leapt.

     Jarissein could not have been more mistaken. The waters of the Penthos were surprisingly lukewarm. He came back up, gasping as the cold wind whipped his face. He noticed Arielle had gone further out, until all he could see of her was a pale dot bobbing on the surface. He took a deep breath and dove, swimming out to join her.