Not Just a Shoulder to Lean On

Bryn crossed the deck, calling Dermott silently. Sinbad watched her graceful movements, his eyes lingering on her slender form and delicate features. She turned, feeling his eyes upon her as Dermott landed on her forearm. He smiled and gave a little half-wave, gratified to see the smile that crossed her face as she waved back and came to stand near him.

"Where are we headed, Captain?" she asked. He tossed his hair back in a sudden breeze and watched her do the same.

"Wherever the wind takes us," he replied. Bryn smiled broadly, liking that answer. "Is there any other way to travel?"

"Not with you around," she responded, chuckling gently. Dermott squawked, agreeing. As they walked back down to the bow of the ship, Sinbad's thoughts caught up with him again. Ever since their first meeting on the Cayman's island, a bond had formed between him and Bryn. In some ways she was very much like Maeve, but in others she was unlike anyone else he had ever met. She fought well, like Maeve, and she had a strange connection with the Earth and with animals. Sinbad supposed it was because of the magic that flowed through both of them. But, while Maeve had to learn the use of magic, Bryn's powers seemed to be a part of her. Indeed, Tetsu had said there was great power in her and it flowed through her soul as blood through a heart. Sinbad wished for the millionth time that he knew more about her, about her past. He knew it had no bearing on her future, but at times the mystery made Bryn so sad and he wished he could take that pain away. She had become a part of his heart, his soul, and her pain was his pain.

Surprised, Sinbad tried to examine his thoughts further. He suddenly realized that he loved Bryn. He wasn't sure exactly when this had come about. All he knew was that she had been his best friend for a long time now, and love had blossomed from somewhere inside that friendship. He felt warmed by these feelings, for they seemed right. They were right; Sinbad knew it as surely as he knew his own name. They had so much in common, so much they shared. They both had a will and stubbornness that never quit, as well as a prevailing sense of what was right and wrong. Neither could stand watching someone be hurt who could not stand up for themselves, and both would give their lives to help someone in need. They both loved the sea and the Nomad, and they were so close now that they could finish each other's thoughts and communicate with glances and gestures. Sinbad knew every nuance of Bryn's speech and face; he could tell when she was happy and when she was upset. Most of all he could tell when she was upset, for a heaviness settled upon his own heart and he yearned to take it away from both of them. Smiling, Sinbad settled in to wait out his watch and decide how to approach Bryn with his newfound realization.

The hazy afternoon wore on, thick Middle Eastern heat making everyone drowsy. Bryn leaned against the railing, Dermott perched on her arm. Sinbad could swear the two were deep in conversation. Firouz was on the other side of the deck, fiddling with something large and complicated-looking. Doubar was below deck, trying to keep as far away from the inventor as possible while he was fiddling with the thing. Sinbad didn't know where Rongar was: he hadn't seen the tall Moor for a while.

Suddenly, thunder rumbled in the distance. Sinbad's head jerked up, and he searched the blue, blue sky quickly. There was not a hint of cloud anywhere. Confused, he glanced back at his shipmates. They were all alert now, and Doubar came up with his sword drawn. "Sinbad," he called, "What happened?"

"I don't know," the captain replied, mystified. He'd never experienced anything like this. The air was alive with friction, just like it was during a thunderstorm. They had heard thunder. But where were the clouds? Where was the rain? "Bryn?" Sinbad asked. The entire crew turned to the empath, and she shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Neither have I," Doubar agreed.

"It might just have been the humidity in the air," Firouz suggested. "It is a documented fact that—"

But Firouz never got to finish his speech. He was interrupted by another clap of thunder, this one louder and much closer than the first. It was accompanied by a flash of what looked like lightning, and it hit the Nomad square in the middle of the deck. A mighty plume of whitish smoke snaked up from the impact, but, strangely enough, the ship did not seem to be burning.

"Firouz!" Sinbad called, choking on the smoke as it began to dissipate. "You were saying?"

"It was just a theory," the scientist said sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his curly head.

"A wrong theory," a new voice said, and through the smoke Sinbad made out a figure.

"Bryn?" he asked uncertainly. He couldn't see much of anything, not even the sun anymore. He coughed on the smoke and blinked, the vapors burning his eyes.

"No," the voice said. The figure moved closer to Sinbad, and it grew clearer. Sinbad could see that it was a she, and she was taller than Bryn. She waved one arm negligently and the smoke disappeared as quickly as it had come.

The woman that stood before them wore a long, simple white dress and a small amount of silver jewelry. She had long, dark hair that tumbled in loose spirals down her back, and her eyes were big and dark. Her features were proud and attractive, and Sinbad found himself thinking that she must have been a beautiful woman when she was younger. For she was not young now. Her skin had lost the smooth luster of youth, and he could see stringy sinews in her neck where the skin clung tightly to the flesh. Her arms were bare, and she seemed to be almost skin and bones. Her eyes gave a quick, searching glance to every crewmember, finally alighting on Bryn.

"Bryn!" she said, and started toward the young woman. Dermott screeched and launched himself away from her, coming to rest on the mast. He fluttered and shifted in agitation, screaming softly to himself. The strange woman allotted him one irritated glance before turning again to Bryn. "Bryn," she said, her voice more unsure this time. "Bryn, I need your help."

"Why?" Bryn's voice was unsure, and she stepped back as the other woman tried to move closer. Sinbad could see confusion and mistrust painted clearly on Bryn's face, and she flashed him a worried glance before concentrating on the stranger again.

"Bryn!" the lady said sharply. She had a strange, grating accent. "I need your help! I need you to lend me your power; I'm not strong enough to fight this alone!"

"Fight what?" Bryn said, her voice still colored with mistrust, as Sinbad yelled,

"No!" Neither woman paid him any attention.

"You know very well what for!" she told Bryn. "Bryn, what's wrong with you?"

"I don't remember," Bryn said, rubbing a hand against her forehead. "I'm sorry, I don't remember…"

"Not remember me?" the lady seemed shocked. "Your mother entrusted you to my care, child! How can you say you don't remember me? I realize you were upset with me when you left, but I never thought you would refuse to acknowledge me!"

"It's not that simple," Bryn tried to say, but the lady stopped her.

"There's no time for anger, Bryn! People are dying! I need to tap into your power to heal them! Please, Bryn, I need you to help me!"

Bryn bit her bottom lip, her mind locked in indecision. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

The lady cursed and held out her hands. "I have no more magic left; it took everything I had to spare to come here. I need your help!"

Bryn looked up at the woman again, and Sinbad felt a sudden stab of fear run through his body at the look in her eyes. "How?" she asked.

"Bryn, don't!" he called, coming to stand beside her. "You don't know her; you don't know anything about her!"

Bryn turned to him, her warm brown eyes dark with feeling. "I can't refuse this," she said. He felt how much she wanted to know something about her past, about who this person was who claimed to know her. Sinbad didn't even know why he felt this stranger was dangerous, but he knew he didn't want Bryn to help her. He took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes.

"Bryn, please," he said, "listen to me!" She shook her head, her eyes begging him to understand.

"I have to do this," she said. Sinbad didn't know what to do; it seemed as if she were slipping away. She gazed deep into his eyes, and he found himself held captive by those beautiful pools of liquid brown magic. "Trust me, Sinbad," was all she said. "I trust you; now you trust me. I have to do this."

Sinbad nodded reluctantly, aware that it was indeed time for him to prove that he trusted her as she trusted him. In truth, he did trust Bryn. But he did not trust this new apparition.

Bryn turned back to the stranger and asked again, "How?"

"Simple," the lady said. "Give me your hand. This might feel a little uncomfortable; just wait it out." She extended one care-worn hand and Bryn reached out to take it. As their skin touched, a great flash of light shot out from their linked hands. But Sinbad didn't see it. All he saw was Bryn collapse; all he heard was her scream of pain as she crumpled to the deck, hand still clasped in the stranger's.

"No!" Sinbad screamed. He lunged forward and caught Bryn as she fell limply to the deck and cradled her carefully in his arms. He could feel the raw magic thrumming through her body, and it began to force itself into his system as well. He could feel the edges of an excruciating pain, and he couldn't think how bad it must be for Bryn, who had received the full force of the magic's power.

Three swords were at the stranger's throat: Doubar's, Rongar's, and Firouz's. She stepped back meekly, a horrified look on her face. "What happened?" she asked, but no one heard.

"Put her in the brig!" Sinbad commanded without letting his eyes leave Bryn's unconscious form. "Firouz, see if you can help Bryn!" The scientist hurried over to Sinbad's side, where the captain was gently lifting her into his arms.

"That's right, Sinbad, let's get her downstairs," he said, gesturing to the captain. Sinbad led the way, with Firouz following and Doubar and Rongar leading the prisoner down to the brig.

Sinbad lay Bryn gently on her bed, smoothing her hair back. An aura of magic surrounded her, making the hair on his arms stand on end. She shifted a little and he froze, hope that she might awaken filling his heart, but then she stilled again and he let himself breathe once more.

Firouz came in then, setting a bag down on the floor. He gently opened one of Bryn's eyes and held a candle to it, looking intently for something. Seemingly satisfied, he let her eyelid drop again and ran the back of his hand gently over her forehead and one cheek. Then he checked her pulse and sat back, looking at Sinbad.

"Well," he said, "there's nothing wrong with her that I can find. Her pulse is a little weak, but it's beating steadily. She has no fever, and there's been no damage to her brain. My best guess would be that the witch took too much power from her when she effected the transfer. It zapped her strength. I think she'll be fine once she gets some rest. I wouldn't advise waking her until she does so on her own. When she does wake up, she'll probably have a headache at least." The scientist gave Sinbad a small jug of something. "Give her about half a cup of this if she does; it'll get rid of just about anything."

Sinbad nodded. "What of the stranger?" he asked.

"That's the funny thing," Firouz said. "She seems just as confused and shaken by this as we are. I don't think she meant to do this to Bryn."

"I don't really care right now what she meant to do!" Sinbad's voice was dangerous. "Bryn might have been killed!"

"What do you want us to do with her?"

Sinbad thought for a minute, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Question her if you like. Just keep her in the brig until I can talk to her."

Firouz made a surprised face. "You're not going now?"

Sinbad shook his head, his gaze returning to Bryn's slumbering form. He touched her face gently. "I'm staying here until she wakes."

"As you wish, Sinbad," Firouz said, and crept away.

Bryn shifted suddenly, and Sinbad stroked her hair gently. "Bryn?" he asked. She made a small noise and he saw her eyes open a fractional amount.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice soft and thin. She coughed, then winced and brought a hand up to her head.

"I'm not quite sure," Sinbad replied truthfully. "Does your head hurt?"

Bryn nodded slowly, her face a mask of discomfort. Sinbad took Firouz' jug and poured her half a cup of a bitter-smelling potion. "Here," he said. "I don't think this will taste very good, but Firouz says it'll make you feel better."

Bryn lifted the cup to her lips and drank, nearly choking on the foul taste. "I don't think I want to know what was in that," she said when she finished. Sinbad laughed lowly, glad her sense of humor hadn't faded. Bryn turned to him, and he saw both exhaustion and confusion written plainly in her soft brown eyes. "Sinbad, really; what happened?"

He sighed. "Do you remember the stranger who appeared and asked you for help?" Bryn nodded. "Well, you tried to help her. The minute she touched you, there was a big flash of light. You screamed and blacked out."

"Both of us?"

Sinbad's eyes darkened. "No, just you."

Bryn frowned. "Where is she, then?"

"In the brig. I'm not going to deal with her until we're sure you'll be all right."

"Sinbad—" Bryn started, but he shook his head and put a finger gently to her lips.

"Not until we're sure you're going to be fine," he said firmly.

"Are you waiting for an apology from me?" she asked, "Or are you trying to find a good way to say 'I told you so?"

"Bryn!" Sinbad said, aghast. He touched her face gently, lightly caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I would never say something like that in a situation like this. I was worried about you."

Bryn closed her eyes, enjoying his soft touch. Firouz's potion must have had a sleeping agent in it, she thought, for she could feel her body relax and prepare itself for sleep. She stifled a yawn and forced her eyes open, wanting another look at Sinbad. He looked so concerned for her, and it touched her heart. "I'll be fine, Sinbad," she said, taking his free hand in hers. He pressed her hand firmly before gently pulling her into his arms, sliding behind her on the bed. She relaxed against him, nestling down against his warm body. He wrapped his arms comfortably around her and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll be the judge of that," he whispered into her ear, and she giggled sleepily against him.

"And what's your verdict?" she asked, teasing. Sinbad's voice came back to her, serious.

"My verdict is I love you." He looked down at her, trying to gauge her reaction. But it was all for naught. Bryn had fallen asleep. He sighed. "Sleep well, love," he whispered softly. Then he leaned back against the wall, making sure Bryn was snug in his arms, and kissed the top of her head. He relaxed fully with her warm form lying in his arms, and found himself drifting off into a light sleep.

To be continued!
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