“We will see child. We will see.”
Long after she had hidden herself beneath the canvas of the rowboat, I pondered her words.
On the fourth day from port, the sun warmed my back as I lounged on the bowsprit, smelling the sea.
A brass bell rang three times, cutting through the wind. I clapped my hands over my head and hunkered down tightly.
The thunder of a cannon broke the calm, rattling my head despite my meager protection. Far to the starboard side, the splash of the cannonball broke a wave, and again further away, and more times as it skittered over the sea’s surface.
“That’s enough, men,” Captain Hoevin called. “Secure the cannons.”
A league or more behind us, another cannon peal broke over the waves. Twelve other ships had joined the fleet in the last two days, and according to the captain, the other seven would be join us shortly. We were now only a half-day’s sail from the besieged city of Trilliar.
The minds of my fellow shaman called from the other ships—two were ahead, on the flagship and another gargantuan vessel, and the others behind. With each that came nearer, the bond between us strengthened.
The captain had found his niece, Neera. She had been allowed to stay, for with the battle so near and the city at such need, the captain could no longer justify returning home. To my surprise, she had kept her promise, returning to speak to me several times each day. She asked of my home and the other yeavanni villages on the far side of the sea. She asked how I could manage without eyes, how I could talk with the other shaman, how I could control the seas. All of these I answered as best I could, and in truth, my heart rejoiced at the chance to speak of Yeavan and her ways.
Even if the girl never learned, never believed, it was an outpouring that had been damming up inside me for years. Too many years, I thought. So many that the speaking of such things brought back a yearning such as I hadn’t felt in a long time.
My proud words of faith to Iulaja felt hollow to me now. In the bowels of my mind I had to admit that had the enemy appeared before me right there and then, I might have slaughtered them all simply to go home. Iulaja had a point, after all. Yeavan did not speak of ritual with other races. What were human lives to her? Did we not war with our enemy, the salazaar? Did Yeavan not sanction such actions when necessary? Ah, but there lies the rub: this felt too much like murder, instead of defending our people.
Footsteps padded over the forecastle deck, and I broke the contact with my brothers and sisters, perhaps embarrassed at the relationship I had fostered with the human girl.
“Uncle says the battle will begin tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“Will you fight?” she asked, spoken like she was unsure what she wanted the answer to be.
“No, child, I will not.”
She stepped to the gunwale and tapped something metal against the wood of the rail.
“That’s probably best,” she said, “seeing as you want to fall to Yeavan’s arms.”
I laughed. The girl’s heartbeat, to her credit, barely rose. She’d become more accustomed to yeavanni sounds over the last few days.
“And you? Do you still wish for revenge?”
Her tapping ceased. “I don’t know. I’m still angry.”
“Mortals can expect no less.”
“There are still times when I wish them dead.”
“The mind wanders, child. You cannot hope to still all such thoughts. What of revenge?”
“No. I guess I don’t want it anymore.” She laughed. “I won’t even see the battle in any case. Uncle has me in the cook’s larders for the whole thing.”
“That’s for the best, I would think.”
We lapsed into silence, and I breathed the sea air deeply. Below, the sound of something small breaking the water’s surface hid among the breaking waves. I closed my eyes, and opened myself up to the sea. The object tasted metallic.
“What did you wish for, child?”
Her heart skipped. “I thought you couldn’t see.”
“The sea sees much for these dead eyes.”
“I ... I wished for the enemy to break before we reached Trilliar. I don’t want to see war anymore.”
As if devouring the girl’s naïve thoughts, a brass bell’s clanging broke the silence. I had been with this ship for two decades, and never had it rung with the nervous fervor I heard then. But, then again, never had we been in true battle. Across the sea, bells rang from the other ships.
“Enemy flags, Captain. Ten degrees to port, coming ’round the cliffs.”
The ship came to life, men moving about, some climbing through the rigging above. Rope creaked and sure feet pounded their way to their stations.
“How many?” the captain called.
“Over a score or I’m a king’s fool.”
Neera moved to port and hopped up on the railing. Her heart beat faster than the bell had rung. “How soon?” she asked.
“Depends whether the fleet runs or not.”
“How close are the other ships?”
I opened myself to the other shaman. At the edge of our awareness, the other seven approached. “An hour if we turn to meet them.”
Heavy boots climbed up the forecastle stairs. Neera moved out along the bowsprit and grasped my hand. The contact surprised me, but it was oddly touching as well. No human had ever held my hand in such a way.
“He’ll send me away now. Good luck.”
“May she preserve you, child.”
“Neera!” Captain Hoevin bellowed. “Get your mischievous hide below decks!”
Neera gave one last squeeze before shimmying back to the deck. Her footsteps receded as the captain’s approached.
“One hour if we turn around, Captain,” I said.
Words died on his breath, and he paced for a few moments. “With their ships, I don’t think we have that much time. Will you help us?”
“I will relay information from the other shaman and the sea, but that is all.”
“We need you. Your inaction could cause more deaths than fighting.”
“No, Captain; that is fool’s logic. I will not take responsibility for a conflict I never began.”
The captain heaved a great sigh. “I hope you change your mind, Khren, even if it’s only for Neera’s sake.” His bootsteps grew softer as I considered his words.
For Neera’s sake. Odd how one can wish for death and friendship in the same breath. Did I care for Neera so much to actually consider his proposal?
I leapt from the bowsprit to dive deep into the cold sea. The water welcomed me again, but I paid it little mind. Our fleet began turning to cover the distance to the trailing ships. I swam ahead, wondering how the next few hours would unfold. The enemy was not so far off that I couldn’t sense them; the watchman had been right: twenty-four ships. The sea held them in its light grip, allowing them to slip through its currents to come ever nearer. I could sense the eagerness of those onboard.
Something tainted the waters, though—a taste I hadn’t felt in ... years, yet I couldn’t place it. Too faint it was, but foul just the same. I began to swim forward when I felt one of my brothers dive into the sea ahead. Behind, a sister-shaman joined us, and I moved to meet them. Unlike Iulaja, my brethren merely swam with me, knowing they could not change my mind. I nearly opened my mouth to convince them to shun this course, but their anger rose with the unspoken thought, so I remained silent.
The enemy closed the distance faster than they should have been able to. Much faster. The taste like sour blood returned to my tongue, stronger. I scrambled amongst my memories for understanding.
The enemy’s lead ship turned starboard to bring its cannons to bear. Together, our small group called the sea to protect us from the imminent cannon blasts. Moments later, the first of them rang out, booming through the sea around us. The sour taste became pronounced, like I had opened my mouth to a goblet full of blood.
Salazaar.
Our sworn enemy had joined battle with the e
nemy humans. They rode the ships—I could feel them now, each one a torch held against the cold surface of my mind. Another cannon boomed over the ocean. As the cannonball was loosed, a salazaar infused it with fire, lending it explosive strength, which released when it struck near my ship. I exhaled relief when I realized it had struck wide.
My brother and sister had already begun weaving. They swam in a complex circle, moving closer to our own ships to come between them and the enemy. More shaman dove into the waters behind us. They swam with energized fervor towards the dancing globe. Some called to me, but most spurned my presence and added their anger to the swirling call of sea and sky. Above the water, storm clouds gathered as more enemy ships brought their cannons to bear.
Our own ships, perhaps realizing that they could not outrun the salazaar-assisted sails of the enemy, turned to bring their cannons to bear as well. An entire barrage sounded from two enemy ships. I heard them claw into our flagship. Fire from the salazaar shed flame over the decking and masts.
My fellow shaman danced in a large, writhing globe, circling ever tighter. A current pushed harshly at one of the enemy ships, turning it about, despite what its rudder might wish. The same happened to the ship nearest it. The first tentative lightning strike rang down from the stormy sky, tearing into a third ship.
Our own ships fired back, and the new cannons broke one of the enemy ships. From this strike could I feel the first enemy deaths—perhaps from cannon shot, perhaps from the shredded wood as the shots struck home, perhaps drowning after being flung unconscious from their ship. The reason mattered not at all; I wept for them just the same. Even the salazaar. When the first one died, I wished, as I always had, that our peoples could have patched our indescribable differences.
But I must be honest. There was hatred, too. A small part of me relished the idea of the vile lizards dying. Indeed, as the water began to heat from their efforts, I found myself urging my brothers on.
Above us, the water’s surface began to hollow until forming into a bowl, limiting the depth we had to work with. Our circle of shaman broke and began swimming away, but it was too late for some. The furthest behind, the most visible, was whisked into the air. Immediately, I felt fire ring across the distance from three separate ships and strike the hovering yeavanni.
Her death throws echoed across all of our minds, but it was followed quickly by the second and third. I could feel the glee with which the salazaar dealt their death.
I pleaded to my Goddess, Yeavan, how can you allow this? Please, oh please, stop this insanity.
I swam, afraid for my life. Afraid of being flung into the air like a salmon caught for the spit. The salazaar released their water-hollow, which sucked us back towards the center. The seabed churned around us, sending rock and coral to biting against our skin.
Our brothers from the other part of the fleet had arrived, though. They swam in a shaman-circle a league away, and a water spout pulled up from the sea, twisting and writhing into the sky. This they let loose on the nearest ship before drawing another from the cold depths. Iulaja was among them. I could feel his scorn as he wove his magic. His hatred soured perhaps more than the salazaar taint.
My own group of shaman regrouped and began weaving once more. They asked me, begged me, to help, and still I resisted.
The rock below us split, opening a deep channel. In moments, the water around the shaman dance flashed an incredible heat. The circle broke apart, and three more yeavanni lives were lost to the boiling sea.
Cannon peals rang above, and death’s specter took more and more lives on both sides. Three salazaar used the winds to leap from their ships onto one of ours—Captain Hoevin’s. I could feel their fire rip into the men aboard. With a fear I couldn’t quite explain, I dug through the water towards my ship. What I planned to do, I had no idea. But I remember how striking it was that a sense of loyalty had sprung up inside me.
I reached the ship and leapt up from the water to the bowsprit. Only two of the salazaar remained. The heat from their flame touched nearly all of the sails. I nearly blacked out from the intensity.
Captain Hoevin screamed from the quarter deck. “Reload, men. Quickly, by God!” I heard him run forward and the sound of his rapier coming free came just before another salazaar blast raked the quarter deck. Ten men screamed, including Captain Hoevin.
“No!” I screamed, impotent in my rage.
The next blast, I could tell, was directed especially towards the captain. I followed his maniacal shrieks as he ran across the main deck. The distinct sound of steel biting flesh rose above it, and then a salazaar howl broke over the din.
His foul brother sent one more blast into the captain, and Captain Hoevin fell lifeless and burned to the deck. Another body fell: the wounded salazaar.
Neera’s calls broke the relative silence that followed. “Uncle!”
“No, child! Don’t go near him! Run!”
My warning had little effect, and by any measure, it was too late. Another blast from the remaining salazaar scoured young Neera as she ran. Her body struck the nearby gunwale with a thud, and a moment later, she splashed into the sea.
In that one instant—the instant I realized Neera’s fate—I lost my tentative hold on my mind. A gurgle escaped my throat; a sound of pain and regret; a burst of hatred and revenge.
A warcall.
I leapt from the forecastle deck, pulling the strength of the sea with me. My leap took me onto the salazaar’s back, and, though my hands and feet sizzled, I bore him to the ground and wrenched him over to face me.
The fetid beast began to speak, but my tightening forearm silenced him. I summoned the sea. For this waste of life, I needed but little, and it came eagerly in any case. A snake of water slipped up the side of the ship and over the railing. It slithered closer and reared up behind me. The salazaar felt fear. For one of the few times in my life, I dearly missed my eyesight. Seeing the look on his pitiful face as the snake dove down his mouth and nose would have been like fine wine to my parched throat. I slipped my handhold down to his shoulders now that the snake had ensured its entrance. It slipped through throat and lungs in an instant as a cacophony of burps and gurgles escaped the salazaar’s throat. He could no longer breathe, but still he writhed.
I enjoyed every single moment of it.
His life was snuffed by the holy water nearly a minute later. I panted over him, wishing he had more to give me. No matter. There were more of his kind about.
I dove into the sea to rejoin my brothers and sisters. They had regrouped into one dance. There were few now, but I made one more. I swam around them, touching yeavanni flesh, coaxing more magic from them, and them from me. These podlings knew too little of death. I coaxed just the right dance from them, and together, we began a deadly ballet between water and air. We dragged the sea about the enemy ships. Our anger fueled the speed. Above, lightning rang down, snapping into salazaar and main masts, sails and rigging.
The lizards tried to pull us from the sea again, but we would no longer be caught off guard. We dove deeper, moved around the sea’s hills and mountains, its tunnels and warrens. It mattered little where we danced from; the weave would still be as tight.
We called a storm, focusing solely on the enemy ships, but one yeavanni’s anger touched the next. Their anger fed more, and it built and built until we thought we would burst from it. The storm scoured the sea about us. The whirlpool sucked the enemy ships down: one, two, now four and five of them gone.
A gale drove at the few ships that tried to escape. Waves lashed at those poor vessels. I pulled away from my brothers. I became the focus of their magic—the avatar to the god we had summoned. I rose above the sea on a water spout and brought the full fury of the storm and sea upon them. Six ships remained, then five, two, and finally the last had been wrecked from the power of Yeavan.
I turned about, feeling for more of them, but finding none. Where had they gone? Why could I kill no more?
Kill no more...
&nbs
p; The geis over my mind began to clear. The destruction registered in a glacier crawl. Dear Yeavan, what have I done?
I dropped from the spout and fell listlessly into the water below. My sides tightened as I realized how large the storm had become, how dangerous—to everyone—it had grown in our thirst for revenge. Seven, perhaps eight of our ships had remained when I left my ship. Now, only two remained. Surely, several were wrecked from our own magic; the churning seas must have dragged seaman after seaman under the waves; dozens of lives snuffed by our thirst for salazaar blood. I swam about the ocean floor, wailing my sorrow to the seas around me.
It took me minutes to realize the state of the two remaining ships. One would surely founder, and the other would be a near thing. I swam quickly to the ship that might be saved, and asked Yeavan, in her grace, for one last favor. She granted this, and the water was staved from the cracks in the ship’s hull. The humans inside began pumping the water out, and slowly, she began to regain her height.
My brothers joined me a short time later, though many of them felt loathe to do it. We’ve done enough for them, their minds said.
“You can go home soon enough,” I told them. “Give them this token, this bauble that means nothing to you.”
They agreed and stayed until both ships were well enough to sail. But then they began to leave. One by one, the yeavanni shaman turned from the ships and began to swim home.
I waited until I was sure the human ships could make it without me, and then I turned away, too. But I didn’t swim towards yeavanni seas. I swam towards the battle, towards the sight of my ship’s sinking. I found her ruined hull in little time and searched around the remains of the once-proud ship.
I found Neera shortly after. She rested at the bottom, cupped by soft seaweed. I pulled her from the bottom and began swimming towards the departing ships.
Iulaja met me and blocked my way. “Leave her, Khrentophar. They fashioned this graveyard, not you. Let her rest among the other humans.”
I floated nearer to Iulaja and touched his shoulder. “I will return to them, Iulaja. I owe her a deathbond.”
Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten & Other Stories Page 23