THREE

Lark woke up slick with sweat and his heart pounding a mile a minute. He fumbled with his bedside lamp, cursing his shaking hands when he couldn’t find the button to illuminate the dark confines of his room. Finally, he found the switch and released a pent-up breath when soft warm light bathed the room, reaching even the darkest corners. He’d never had a problem with the dark before, despite often being locked in a black room or even being buried under the ground. He’d only had to reach out with his senses to gain comfort from the earth which always surrounded him. But when the nightmares of a deep, endless, black, abyss had begun, he’d had to invest in some heavy-duty lightbulbs.

He flopped onto his back as the light did its job, chasing away the dread and the pain the dark brought with it. Glancing to his right, he saw the plastic bottle held no water to assuage his parched throat and he cursed again. The one litre water bottle had become another new addition to his nightly routine. Forcing his shaky limbs to obey his brain’s command, he pushed from the bed and headed to the bathroom attached to his room. He didn’t have his own en-suite like a lot of the others. Instead, he shared a Jack and Jill bathroom with Beyden. Not that he minded – the other man was scarily tidy and they kept quite different hours, with Beyden preferring to sleep in and himself being a notorious early bird.

Hoping he wouldn’t wake his fellow paladin and be forced to mumble another lame excuse, he splashed cold water on his face and cupped his hands, drinking down the cool liquid. He didn’t bother turning on a light, the room was partially illuminated from the bulbs in his bedroom. Besides, he had no desire to see the paleness of his skin or the dark circles under his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept the whole night through.

Probably since before Max moved in, he admitted. For some inexplicable reason, he often shared nightmares with his liege. He had no idea why, considering he wasn’t empathic in any way and he was no more connected to Max than any other member of the Order. He knew the others used to experience the leaking of Max’s emotions when she had first joined them. The poor woman had been so open with her powers, her energy had practically flowed from her like water. But that had long since ceased – due in part to her own vigilance with shielding herself but more so because she was now bound to seven paladins in her very own Order.

Running wet fingers through his ever-lengthening hair, he shook his head; he was the earth element in an Order which encompassed every single domain – a-never-before-seen occurrence. But then, Max was a-never-before-seen occurrence as well. She was the daughter of Mother Nature herself, a true Custodian of nature and was the protector of every domain on the planet; life, death, beast, earth, air, fire, and water. As far as anyone was aware, she was the most powerful being on Earth and the fact that these nightmares continued to plague her was a real concern for him. Even though he now had an understanding where the night terrors were stemming from, it didn’t relieve his anxiety.

Making his way back to his bed, he sat on the edge and thought back to when he had first met Max. It was a few weeks into their acquaintance when he had witnessed her powerful potential downstairs in the kitchen. She had been quite magnificent in her fury, with her power whipping around her like a living thing and her vitality seeping from her very pores. So much so, that the earth had been shaking and a mini tornado had swept through the room. Animals had lined up outside and the waves had crashed against the shore. Looking back, it should have been obvious that she was attuned to all seven elements – each of them answering the call of their master. But he had been just as ignorant of her true potential, and her true pain, to have noticed. He had even overlooked some of the words she had said, but he recalled them now – verbatim, thanks to his photographic memory;

“You know, I don’t sleep? Those nightmares you see me have every night? They’re not really nightmares. It’s the world. Every time I close my eyes I hear it – pounding out a rhythm of pain and fear and wrongness. Nature screams its agony … souls beg for mercy … life cries in pain. The roar of injustice is a perpetual loop in my head. I can’t turn it off, I can’t turn it down. Life scrapes its tortured nails against my gut, peeling layers and leaving nothing but raw flesh in its wake. It’s an acid in my veins, corrosive and scarring. It’s all I hear and all I see; every day and every night.”

Shaking his head at his own stupidity and ineptitude, he flopped back onto his rumpled sheets. She had described her nightmares as the world’s pain and at the time he had let it pass right over his head. No doubt that was exactly what had been keeping her up at night but he knew that wasn’t the whole of it. It had taken him far longer than it sh0uld have considering his IQ and their shared dreams to puzzle out that the bulk of the pain she was feeling, the injustice she was describing, was in fact the chades. There was no greater offence to nature, after all, than its guardians turning against her. No wonder Max had been such a staunch supporter of those hapless beings. No wonder they were drawn to her like a magnet. No wonder she had been so drawn to Dex during the years she had been lost. She alone seemed to have a direct connection to them and ever since he had been participating in these nightly terrors of hers, he had begun wondering if this was her whole purpose for being; the chades.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he decided sleep was fruitless. Looking to the crack between his sloppily closed curtains, he noted that the sun’s rays would be brightening the pre-dawn sky any minute, so he pushed himself up, threw on some loose track pants and a tee shirt and made his way down the stairs. He didn’t bother putting on shoes, preferring to feel the earth beneath his feet as he made his way through the picturesque garden attached to the back of the house. His feet sank just as appreciatively into the cool sand where the beach met the edge of their established yard.

Breathing in deep and scrunching his toes, he felt his shoulders relax and the last vestiges of the nightmare slip away. Even though something about this last dream was niggling at him – it had seemed very centred around one chade in particular – he chose to let it go and enjoy the peace of the –

“Holy shit!” he yelled, clutching at his shirt as his heart beat frantically beneath the ratty fabric. A dark shape had come barrelling in his periphery vision before pouncing on him and taking him down to the sand. A frantic tongue licked enthusiastic kisses over every inch of exposed skin and he soon found himself laughing and patting the playful puppy instead of cursing and pushing him away.

“Zombie! Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Zombie’s ever-growing paws perched on his shoulders and the dog tilted his head to the side as if he were really listening. If Beyden or Max were here, they would no doubt tell him that the animal could in fact understand him. “What are you doing out here, huh?”

“He’s with me.”

If anyone were to ask in the future the sound he made in that moment when he experienced his second jolt of the morning, he would forever say it was a manly battle cry and not a high-pitch squeal; “Max!” he reprimanded. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?” He knew it was still barely past five in the morning and even now there was only the barest hint of light emerging from the deep blue of the ocean on the horizon. “You’re up awfully early.”

“I could say the same about you,” Max pointed out as she sat down next to him on the sand.

For once, Zombie didn’t abandon ship and jump immediately to his master. Instead, he circled around a couple of times before curling up in his lap. It was no small achievement either, given the way the dog seemed to keep growing and growing. The once ankle-height, stripy and spotty, mongrel stray, was now knee-high to Max – calf-height on most of the rest of them. He was still a strange mishmash of colours and patterns and only one ear was standing up straight. His tail had recently started sprouting more fur and constantly waved like a fuzzy, maniacal flag whenever he was awake. Not even Max could tell what mix of breeds he was – not that any of them cared. He had quickly become the official, not-so-little, mascot of the Order of Aurora.

Deep, rumbling sounds had him half turning to identify the source. He wasn’t really surprised to see his Captain mumbling to himself as he tried to get comfortable with his coffee mug on the hammock strung between two large trees in the backyard. Lark was unable to discern the exact words but the pitch and the cadence let him know they were very likely curse words. He grinned; Ryker really wasn’t a morning person.

“The old man wouldn’t let you come out here on your own, huh?” he guessed.

Max sighed, running sand through her fingers, “Well, last time I said I couldn’t sleep and wandered downstairs I kind of had the life-force sucked out of me. Ryker’s still a little touchy about it.”

Lark widened his eyes comically, “That man is so sensitive.”

“Right?” Max bumped his shoulder and they shared a laugh. He still found moments like these surreal; sharing jokes and sarcasm with a goddess. But then, Max wasn’t just a goddess, was she? She was also family.

“Bad dreams?” Max enquired, presently.

He looked at her from under his lashes. She was facing forward, watching the tentative rays of the new sun breach the horizon. Her face was blank and Lark wondered how he was supposed to answer. He had told Darius and Dex about his perpetual night terrors but he had never volunteered the information to anyone else. He suspected Max knew but she had never said anything about them and he had respected her need for privacy and secrecy. This was the first time she had mentioned them so overtly.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “Bad dreams.”

Max sighed, a huge sigh that seemed to move her entire frame on the sand. “I’m sorry about that, Lark. No matter how strong my shields are when I’m awake, they weaken when I sleep. It’s my subconscious or something. I know some of my feelings trickle through to you. I –”

“Stop, Max. I don’t want your apology. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s why I’ve never brought it up before. If it eases your burden in any way, then I am grateful for them,” he told her. And it was true, no matter how disturbing they were. As a sworn knight, it was his duty and his privilege to ensure his liege was protected, happy, and healthy at all times. That included when she was asleep.

Max let out an aggrieved sigh, “You knights …”

“We’re cool, huh?” he puffed out his chest, which he knew was the smallest amongst all the males in the household. He didn’t mind. His dancer’s physique more than got the job done.

Max chuckled, “Very cool,” she confirmed, humouring him. “But I’m still sorry. It’s not fair to you – even though it’s going to be an asset when you head off in search of the chades with souls.”

He frowned at that, “Is that why you asked me to go and not one of the others? Because I dream about them too?”

“It certainly factored in, of course. You’re able to see them in a different light now – with more sympathy, more compassion. But that’s not the whole reason. You’re also an amazing paladin, Lark. A real asset with your brains as well as brawn. Plus, your background gives you a unique perspective,” Max explained.

He couldn’t help but jolt at her mention of his past. He hadn’t discussed it with her. Hell, he hadn’t discussed it with anyone other than Ryker and that had just been superficial stuff because he figured the man should know who he was letting into his house. But he wouldn’t be surprised if Max knew every little detail of his life leading up to this moment. And not because she could read his mind either.

“What do you mean by a ‘unique perspective’?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Well, besides Dex, you’re the one who should be able to relate to pain and helplessness the best. And you haven’t been damaged by the chades the same way most of the others have. As far as they’ve come in adjusting their opinions of the chades, I’m very aware that these things take time. I can’t expect their feelings and attitudes to shift overnight. Thankfully, Dex has helped immensely. He’s walking, talking proof that some chades can be saved. But I know the rest of the gang are going to need further time, patience, and proof. You don’t need that time; you’re already there,” she stated.

He was already there, he acknowledged and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she knew it. He nodded his head once, “Fair enough. Can you tell me something though?” he asked, running his hand over the warmth of Zombie’s fur.

“Shoot.”

“Why am I sharing your dreams? It doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, I’m not psychic in any way or empathic. Our bond isn’t stronger than anyone else in the Order …” he trailed off.

Max smiled at him strangely, as if he should have figured out the why of it by now, “It’s because we’re connected. We were connected before we even met.”

“What?” That certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“We’re so similar, Lark. That’s one of the things that ensures the connection; like recognises like.”

The further explanation still didn’t help him and he shook his head, “Alike? Max, we are nothing alike.” She was the most precious thing on the planet and he was the rejected son of a violent sociopath.

“Sure we are. Crappy childhoods, bad decisions of other’s thrust upon us, adrift and searching for a family … But not arseholes. We didn’t let it turn us into arseholes,” she explained, causing him to laugh despite himself.

“And then there’s that other cosmic connection linking us together before we met,” Max pointed out.

“What do you mean this time?”

Max smiled, “Luna Rose.”

“Your pen name?” he questioned in confusion.

Max nodded, “I know you’re a fan – a genuine fan. That is totally trippy by the way – having fans. Anyway, you knew me before you even met me. I may use a pseudonym when I write but it’s still me. Everything I need to vent, everything I need to escape, everything I need to celebrate, I put into my writing. That’s me, right there on those pages. You connected with my books, Lark. You identified with them. Therefore, you connected with me, identified with me. I’d say that’s a very intimate connection. Wouldn’t you?”

Lark opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to form words. It was a strange kind of logic that made perfect sense to him. Turning to her, he admitted, “I read them when I need to escape. Or when I need to vent. Or when I want to celebrate something.”

“See! Connections,” Max put her closed fist out and he couldn’t help smiling as he fist-bumped her liked she wanted. “Righteous!” she crowed, making a noise like an explosion as she shook her hand out.

The darn woman really is kooky in the best way, he thought.

“Oh, and there is also that other thing. It might also be helping with the whole subconsciousness mind-meld thing we have going on,” Max threw out, completely throwing him off guard.

“What thing?” he asked.

“That other thing you were born with that you haven’t revealed to your Captain or your fellow knights,” she pointed out, knowingly.

He felt himself swallow hard in nervousness and began tugging on Zombie’s ears. She knows, his internal voice was almost panicked, of course she knows. She knows everything! He scolded himself and wondered if this kind of resigned panic was how other people felt around him when he was popping off facts and information left and right, thanks to his photographic memory. He really hoped not. It was incredibly annoying. He cleared his throat;

“It’s not important.”

Max snorted, “Uh huh. If it’s not important, why haven’t you told them?”

Lark gritted his teeth and saw that Zombie had compassionate bi-coloured eyes focused on him as if he understood there was no arguing with Max. Damned if the dog wasn’t right, “Max …” he began.

She held up a hand before using it to push herself up off the ground and dust sand off her rear end. Her timing was perfect because the sun chose that moment to make its full and spectacular appearance beyond the horizon. Her curvy frame became silhouetted against the pink and orange backdrop and the bright rays of light ignited the fire in her hair. He shook his head over the sheer powerful beauty of her. She practically glowed everywhere the light touched and he wondered fancifully if perhaps the sun rose every morning just for her.

She smiled at him, a warm, tender smile and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had heard his thoughts … or had stood up at that particular time on purpose to remind him she was a goddess. Probably the latter, he admitted. The woman was darn devious. Her smile grew decidedly more wicked and he knew with certainty that she had heard him that time.

“I won’t say anything to Ryker or the others and I won’t ask you to either. You have a right to your privacy. But you need to know; it won’t change anything for them. You’ll still just be you.”

He nodded because what else could he do? She was giving him a free pass. But he heard himself seeking further reassurance as he asked; “And you’re sure just me is enough?”

Max nodded decisively, “I have no doubt you are the correct man for the job.”

“And Ivy is the correct woman for the job?” he hazarded, suppressing the warm tingle her name on his lips wrought.

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Fair warning though,” she bent down to pinch his cheek, “she’ll end up either killing you or kissing you.”

Hearing the words kissing in conjunction with Ivy had his mind nose-diving into the gutter for a split second before he gained his wits back. Max was already walking away but he couldn’t let her have the last word. Not about this. No matter what she thought she knew. “Maybe I’ll be the one doing the killing and kissing. Did you ever think of that?”

Max spun around to face him but kept walking backwards, “Please! Haven’t you men realised it yet? It’s the women around here who wear the pants.”

He heard her chuckle even as she turned back around and he watched as she gave her butt a hearty slap through said pants as she walked away.

The women wore the pants? Well, maybe he would just have to take them off.