Atsidi hesitated to release the talisman, continuing his study of Chidi. Why does she want you to receive this from me? He demanded of her.
Receive what? Chidi asked. The tooth?
What else?
I-I don’t know, she said. She’s never said anything to me about . . . any of this.
Atisid scoffed. She chose you wisely, child. For all my want to name you liar, I hear no falsehood in your voice. He sighed. And the thought of my son reaching for you . . . calling your name at the last . . . Atsidi shook his head, then ducked his head while lifting his arm, removing the simple necklace and talisman from around his neck. With a glint in his eye, he extended it in offer to Chidi. Come, child. It would seem this gift is meant for you.
Why me? Chidi asked.
I know not, said Atsidi. It is but a simple tooth from my own mouth. One lost among countless others that I have shed in my life. He opened his hand to reveal the tooth and seaweed string. And now this meaningless gift belongs to you.
It’s not meaningless though, Chidi knew, even as she swam toward him to accept. If it was just a simple tooth, then why would Marisa want it?
Chidi said nothing of her own questions, however, as the Hammer chieftain draped the necklace over her seal neck. For a moment, Chidi feared that the tooth, like Marisa, might have some mystical quality to it. A curse upon it, or else a further means of entrapment like the Silkie skin that Henry had both forced her to wear and used to enslave Chidi.
When the necklace fell against her skin, Chidi felt nothing of warmth or chill or curse. Nothing even of weight as Atsidi Darksnout drifted away from her with his son’s body still in his arms.
Chidi sagged in the water, not knowing what to do or say. Thank you, she said finally. For the gift.
And you, Chidi, said the Hammer chieftain. For befriending my son and bringing him here to meet with me.
Chidi stared at him awhile longer, his lingering silence urging her to leave. Still, she could not bring herself to swim away, knowing that to do so would mean to leave Allambee behind. Never to see him again.
Atsidi stirred. Why do you stay, child?
I-I don’t want to say goodbye to him, she replied, the hurt carrying in her voice. I’m tired of saying goodbye to people I care about.
Atsidi nodded, his face a mask of solemnity. The Salt gives and takes, child. A lesson I too have been loathe to learn and heed, despite my age. In truth, I never desired a child. In my youth, I thought a warrior’s way was to deal death, not nurture life. The Salt stole the honor of a warrior’s death from me too when my own people betrayed me to our enemies. I thought it yet another curse too when my enemies removed me from this world and placed me in their glass prisons. They carried me ashore, moving me from one of their cities to the next like a prized trophy for others to see and relish in their conquest. And yet for all my hate, all my loathing of them, I found the furthest opposite of their cruelty upon the shore also. He smiled in looking down upon Allambee’s face. Some precious moments of love and joy that I had never known before, all shown to me when this boy’s mother came to tend the many wounds blighting my mind and soul. Aye . . . some small moment of peace before the Salt and my enemies came to steal that life from me too.
You didn’t leave Allambee and his mother, then? Chidi dared to ask. You didn’t abandon them to protect them from your enemies?
Not by my own choices, no, said Atsidi. I think now it were a lie she gave him. A small kindness meant for an elsewise orphaned boy with no hope of ever meeting his father and learning of my true nature.
But she taught him your language, said Chidi, trying to offer him some bit of cheer among the darkness. Attempting to bring some light to herself as well. A few words, at least. And meeting you was all he ever talked about. ‘Helping you’, he always said.
Aye, helping me, Atsidi said bitterly. To see the continuing error of my ways, no doubt. The continued lies I cling to still. He looked up and away from Chidi as a slew of other Nomads swam toward them. Between them, the Nomads bore a bound, but writhing hostage, his skin two-toned in color, his face and body littered with wounds of his own. Each deep enough to hurt, yet not enough to kill, nor allow the Salt to suck his body dry of lifeblood.
Chidi’s seal lip curled at the sight of Allambee’s killer, Arsen.
The other Nomads brought the writhing Orc all the way to their leader, holding him steady in the face of Atsidi Darksnout. Where Chidi had feared the Nomad chieftain before, she recognized now that any notion of fright she once felt in his presence paled in compare to that which lived in the Orc hostage.
Arsen’s eyes rounded at the sight of Allambee in his father’s arms, the Orcinian made to look upon the death that he had caused. Worse, the one who would serve his fate also.
Chidi swore that Atsidi’s stare would bore two holes through Arsen’s person, the anger emanating off the Hammer chieftain enough to cow the Orc into weeping submission. Only then did Atsidi glance away, looking to Chidi instead. Is this the one? He asked of her. Is this the savage who slew my son?
The grim faces of the Nomad warriors around Chidi warned they would never allow the Orc to leave with his life. And when she met the stare of Atsidi Darksnout a final time, she understood the hurt in him would not allow the Hammer chieftain to grant such tender mercy either.
Is this Orc the one who killed my son? Atsidi asked of her again, his tone rising.
Yes, said Chidi quietly.
Atsidi grimaced. Then, I think it best you leave us now, child. I would spare you from such a sight as I mean to cause this wretched thing that swims before me.
Chidi nodded, her gaze falling on Allambee’s peaceful face once more. Without thought, she darted across the water between them, swimming near enough to look down upon her fallen friend. In keeping with Watawa’s message to her, Chidi burned the image of Allambee in her mind that she might never forget what his sacrifice had meant for her. Goodbye, she thought to herself, closing her seal eyes and dipping her cold nose to brush against his cheek. Forgive me for not making you stay behind . . . for not keeping you safe. Please, forgive me, Allambee, wherever you are now.
As she pulled away, Chidi’s mind drifted back to their first meeting, sitting with him upon the beach outside of Chicago. Her skin blazed with the memory of him placing pretzels in her hand, his fingers closing around hers.
‘I think you and your friends have to help me,’ she remembered him saying then. How she had wept thereafter at the innocence in his voice. What those in the Salt might do with such a noble, good soul as Allambee Omondi’s had been.
What the Salt did do to you, Chidi told herself, wilting when she glimpsed Atsidi and his warriors watching her mournful display. For all the Nomad faces watching her, she found herself drawn to the Orc hostage, Arsen, also.
His clothing torn, his hands bound behind him and tied to his tail also – Chidi thought that Arsen looked not nearly so frightening now as he had been when attacking her with his fellows. Though she had not meant to look on him again, now she studied the Orcinian in full, the terror of what awaited plain upon his trembling body and the whites of his eyes also.
Help me, Arsen spoke to her alone. Please, little Silkie. I’m so afraid . . . don’t let them kill me. Help me, please. I beg you.
For all his blathering on, Chidi cued on Arsen’s continual use of the word ‘help.’ Though not for his sake, she thought back to Allambee and of all the times he mentioned the need to find and help his father. I couldn’t keep you safe, she thought, turning back to look on her fallen friend again, trying and failing to swallow the lie she told herself; that Allambee was merely asleep in his father’s arms. I couldn’t keep you safe, my friend . . . but I can pass on your message.
Chidi ascended that she might swim in front of Atsidi Darksnout as bravely as Marisa had done. Before I go, she said, reminding herself to be strong and speak up as both Quill and Bryant, Lenny Dolan and so many others had asked of her since she had met them all. Allambee alw
ays said his mother told him that you ran away because you feared someone hurting them to get to you. That his mother told him that you trusted no one . . . that it was no way to live.
Aye, said Atsidi. You mentioned both already.
I did, said Chidi, forcing herself to continue. I think that’s why he came to find you. That he thought it might help you to hear those words and his mother’s other message too.
What message?
Chidi’s chest pained as she spoke the words, envisioning Allambee’s voice and manner as she did. He said that his mother told him that we must all learn to trust in others to find peace.
Atsidi frowned. It seems her notions of peace and forgiveness never changed, then. If my son were alive, Chidi, I would tell him such words did offer me some guidance and comfort in my time among the Merrows and those of your kind too when I was imprisoned upon the shore. In truth, with my return to the Salt, I had hoped to spread her message of peace among my own people also. His gaze flickered toward Arsen before returning to focus on Chidi. But here? Now? No, child, he said to her, lifting Allambee’s body in remorseful show. Here be the reminder and proof of what happens when one would turn away from truth in favor of such childish hopes and dreams. This, the reminder of what happens when one holds to ideals and nonsense from those who do not know better. He swam away from Chidi, offering Allambee’s body to a pair of his fellow warriors with Hammerhead tails. Then, he drew the naked blade at his side; one of its ends being a spike, the other a hammer.
Atsidi Darksnout allowed its sheen to dance in the moonlit water around him. Aye, he said, pointing the spiked end of his hammered blade at Arsen. And here be the harsh reality awaiting those who face what those of us swimming beneath the Salt already know full well; for there are truly monsters lurking in every depth of this world, child. He looked on Chidi again, the sadness in his voice belying the madness in his eyes. And from the moment that one chooses to become a monster, there is no turning back from what you are thereafter. Atsidi motioned toward the surface. I pray you never become one such as we are, Chidi. Go now in peace, if only for the memory of my son. Let you swim away and forget this cold and watery realm for the opposite world above. Let you return to the place where dreams and light and hope still exist, child. For it has only ever been a realm of monsters here beneath the Salt. I would not have you linger and become one of us.
Chidi obeyed then, swimming away for the surface world above, even as Arsen’s continued pleas and begging for his life followed her all the while.
Before she broke through the surface, the hostage Orc’s pitiful cries had turned to screams . . . and their echo chasing Chidi Etienne all the way back to the awaiting boat and her remaining companions.
24
GARRETT
After the decision to turn over the Orc hostage, Arsen, to the Hammer tribes and the justice of Atsidi Darksnout, Garrett Weaver had followed his Nomad father into the depths that they might speak and swim alone together.
Where are we going? Garrett asked as they descended further.
Away, my son, said Cursion White Shadow. In troubled times, my father taught me it oft helps to swim away and clear one’s mind.
You think I’m troubled by what just happened? Garrett asked. Seeing Arsen again?
I know that you wrestle with such thoughts and guilt, said Cursion. Just as I did when I were young. Just as many warriors do, and then attempt to hide from their choices.
Garrett hesitated to speak, toying with the thoughts running his mind, trying to figure out how best to speak them. I don’t care what you did with Arsen.
No, said Cursion. But you struggled with the decision when it was left to you, yes?
Garrett blushed at that. I guess so, he said. Maybe. I dunno.
Smiling, Cursion turned back to face him. And you think this inner conflict makes you weak, my son? That were you not quick to kill your former pod-mate, as Ishmael challenged you to do?
Garrett shrugged in silent reply.
Death is never easy, my son, said Cursion. Nor should it be decided quickly. For all that your former pod-mate did to you and others, I did not doubt his tale of hardship. Had our lives been traded, myself and others might do as Arsen did, if placed in similar circumstance.
Why did you decide to give him to the Hammers, then? Garrett asked.
It was not me to whom the hurt was caused, said Cursion. The Orcinian slew a friend of yours, yet you could not bring yourself to slay him in vengeful return. If you could not do so with the loss you sustained, how then could I give the order to execute him?
But, you did, said Garrett. By giving him to the Hammers, you know what will happen.
Do I? Cursion asked. Atsidi Darksnout has told us all he is sworn to peace now. It may be this test is meant for him to decide where his heart truly lies.
Isn’t that wrong to put your friend to such a test though? Garrett challenged. If you know that Atsidi wants peace for him and his people, why give him the Orc who killed his son and make things harder for him?
Ours is a hard world, my son, said Cursion. Were it truly my decision alone, I would have spared Atsidi Darksnout further pain and ended the Orcinian myself. As high chieftain, however, duty falls to me to think of the needs and wants of all.
Garrett’s brow furrowed. And you think that all of the Nomads will need Atsidi and his warriors in the coming war . . .
The Hammers are the largest in number of our tribes, said Cursion. Without them to join, aye, I believe it would be a lost cause to attack the Merrow king and all his Orcs. Say nothing of the newest threat either. The Sancul offer will spread more discord among us too before the end, I assure you.
You don’t trust the Sancul offer, then? Garrett asked, thinking back on Kellen Winstel and the deep dwellers he swam with.
Trust is our only way forward, my son, said Cursion. And yet even if we were to align with the Sancul to bring down the Merrows and the Orcs, I would not trust the deep dwellers to spare our people when all others were finished. In truth, I had hoped this night might lend me time to speak alone with the other chieftains. All that I might better hear their concerns without Ishmael to cloud our situation.
You should’ve just gotten rid of him, then, said Garrett. He would do the same for you.
Cursion chuckled. We are of two minds, my son. Still, however old he may seem to your eyes, Red Water is young enough among our people. And the elders who will not remember their younger days, nor listen to the passion of youth are like to lose their favor among the people also. A leader who would silence even the most outspoken member of their council is no true leader at all.
Maybe, said Garrett. But, if that person is like Ishmael and keeps spreading fear and doubt among the rest, then the first leader might lose their favor among the people anyway.
Cursion’s smile widened. You learn quickly, my son. He nodded. And see much already. In time, I have little doubt you will rise to be among our greatest of leaders.
I doubt it, said Garrett, his momentary cheer of the praise given to him doused at Cursion’s continued words of his potential ascendancy among the Nomad ranks. Ishmael and the others will never see me as one of them. All they see when they look at me is an Orcinian, just like Arsen.
Cursion swam forward, then, and placed his hands upon Garrett’s shoulders. You are nothing like the Orc I sent off to Atsidi Darksnout.
How do you know? Garrett asked.
Your eyes speak to your truth, my son, said Cursion. One need not look deeply into them to see the light within. In yours, I see the way ahead for all our people – Nomads, Orcs, Merrows. Aye, Selkies and even Sancul too.
Sancul?
Cursion nodded. When all others showed fear this night at the arrival of the deep dwellers, I saw my son alone prepared to swim out and extend an offer in response to theirs. Not of war, or hate, but peace and friendship.
Only because I knew Kellen, said Garrett. Remembered him from when we both lived ashore.
Cursion�
�s head cocked to the side, then, as if he could make no sense of Garrett’s meaning.
I don’t know how Kellen got down here, said Garrett. Only that he did. He’s . . . different . . . now too.
And in your life before, said Cursion. You were friendly with this Sancul?
No, said Garrett. Never. He . . . he picked on me all the time. Bullied me every chance he could. Garrett unwittingly glanced at his tail, watching it sway back and forth, remembering the first time he had witnessed it do so after awaking at the bottom of the deep end in the pool of Tiber High School. Kellen Winstel had lazed above him, then, and might have drowned also, had it not been for Owens to dive in and save him. All that Garrett could recall thereafter was swimming for the first time and the confusion to wonder as to why the change had occurred. What it all might mean. I thought Kellen was the one who did this to me, he admitted to Cursion. The one to make me change.
Cursion laughed at that. If you would seek to blame someone for your life, my son, I fear you are looking at him now.
His mirth made Garrett chuckle too, then.
Cursion studied him further. If I might ask, if you and this Sancul were rivals in your life before, why then did you reach out to him earlier this night?
I don’t know, said Garrett, even as he thought back on the encounter with his high school classmate, the lone true, familiar face from his shore life that he had seen since his mother was killed in New Pearlaya. Shrinking under the friendly, if still questioning stare of Cursion White Shadow, Garrett searched his mind for a better answer. You said that you see something in me when you look into my eyes, he replied. I guess that I went to Kellen tonight because I saw something in his too.
And what did you see there, my son?
Pain, said Garrett. And fear too . . . I saw that he was afraid. Garrett shook his head, trying to rid his memory of Kellen Winstel swimming off without answering the question he had asked. I’ve never seen Kellen afraid before.
Perhaps the Salt has taught him differently, said Cursion. Just as the Salt has done for you . . . just as the Salt continues to shape you still, my son.
Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Page 38