Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35

by Galvin, Aaron

  You would want me to believe that, said Sydney. But you were the one to put me here. Why would ever help me to escape?

  “For the same reason I placed you here to begin with,” said Malik. “It serves my needs, Princess.”

  I’m not a princess, said Sydney.

  Malik smirked. “The king says you are . . . and the people still believe it, despite all else they’ve seen today. You can thank your mother for that, at least. By bringing you here and leaving your brother behind, she lent some credence to the notion that it is you who are the king’s true heir and not your brother.” He studied her closer. “And, despite your situation now, you do look the part of a royal heir, once you’ve been attended to, that is.”

  Sydney took up his meaning. My title? That’s what you came here about?

  “In part,” said Malik. “Much as your supposed birthright continues to serve your father’s needs, I would have it serve me and my Orcs in the future also.”

  The hairs on Sydney’s arms raised at the implication he made. I would never serve you, she said. I’d rather die.

  “You might still do,” said Malik. “If you understood what disobedience might cost.”

  Sydney shivered further at his tone.

  Malik continued on. “You asked why the king continues this farce of you being his benevolent daughter? Why he dresses you up before crowd, yet scorns you in private? The answer exists in the same lie that I sold to him about your brother and his former guardian.”

  Sydney shook her head. What do you mean? How is pretending that I’m the princess the same as showing everyone the bodies of someone you pretended to be my brother and Barb? She choked on the name of her mother’s dead friend.

  “Because the best of lies contain a grain of truth, my dear,” said Malik. “For whether they be truth or lies in your words and actions, people see and hear what they want in others, girl. Again, it makes no difference whether it be truth or fantasy at the core of such arguments. When it comes to willful blindness in the hallowed halls of tragedy and love, kings are no more immune than the lowest born.” He nodded at Sydney. “Take you, for example. You were positioned at the king’s side since coming into our capital. Darius had his doubts then of your origins, I’m sure, but he ignored them in favor of his want to believe you as his rightful daughter with his beloved queen. Instead, he turned his questioning thoughts and doubt on your brother’s absence.” Malik chuckled. “For what it’s worth to you, I have never doubted the truth you and your mother gave the king in testifying as to why you came into the Salt. The same goes for the reason your brother was left behind. Ah, but doubt is a more fickle beast entirely. Truth cuts deep, but clean, girl. Doubt is like a dull blade, leaving one to hack endlessly away at their target and tire them for their efforts. All to never achieve the true end . . . all their time and efforts spent upon a phantom victim that eludes them in the end, for it were never truly there to begin with. So . . . which would you rather have, girl? Your father’s doubt, or my truth?”

  Neither, said Sydney. I don’t trust either of you.

  “You are as great a fool as Darius, then,” said Malik. “Here be my truth, savage, and recognize it as a just claim for the pain it causes you. I have no doubt that your brother is indeed alive . . . for now. From where his guardian was found, I gather she meant to take him to your grandfather and the royal seat of the eastern waters in Harpoon Ditch. My Orcs continue their pursuit and hunt for him there even as we speak. If they find Prince Jun, they will kill him on sight and dispose of the body that the crowd and king believe they have already seen delivered. Then, all that I said today at the trials is already made true and with none the wiser for it.”

  Except me now, said Sydney, rising in her cage despite the needling cold within her. And what if Jun escapes your Orcs?

  Malik shrugged. “Then, I find it fortunate I have another royal family member already in my grasp to bargain with.”

  But I’m not royal, said Sydney. The king isn’t my father.

  Malik smirked again. “And I should say that the people believe you are,” he replied. “Despite putting your mother on trial, the king has continued positioning you ever at his side at my insistence. There will be whispers about your legitimacy, of course, especially after I presented your brother’s supposed body with a Nomad tail. Those whispers will turn to a roar if unattended and left to your father’s machinations, but . . . in the hands of a stronger leader who claims elsewise? A leader who silences all who would speak against such rumors . . .” Malik let the idea hang, his eyes working over Sydney’s face.

  No. Sydney thought, then, a swoop of her tail sending her to the back of her cell.

  Malik laughed at the response. “Rest easy, girl. I have no lust for you. It’s your title alone that calls a stirring in me.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I can imagine many things, Princess,” said Malik, marching around her tank. “Already I have been welcomed back into this city as a potential savior with a Nomad horde aligning against us in the West. No doubt your grandfather already rallies his own armies and means to bring his Merrows from the East as well to stop this mummer’s farce of his daughter queen shamed and put on trial for the traitor that she is. For all I know, your grandfather might even mean to kill your mother himself for sleeping with a savage. Intentions make no difference to me, you understand. But, with all those outside forces descending upon us, who then to lead the defense of our once great city? Who would you have rise to swim against our enemies and lead us back into the glory days of old?” His grin widened. “That is why your father welcomed me and my Orcs back into the fold with open arms, savage. Why he agreed to any terms I asked of him too.”

  “Terms?” Sydney asked.

  “Aye,” said Malik. “Rest assured, it was not your father’s initial intentions to keep you at his side during these trials. Left to his passion and foolish whims, you would have been thrown inside the cage alongside your mother and the others loyal to her. No doubt he would have showcased your Nomad tail too before all the people of New Pearlaya for the bitter grief your mother has caused him.”

  Sydney grimaced. Why did you save me from that, then? If that’s what you’re implying.

  “Not implying. Truth, child,” said Malik. “And it were not my only demand of the quivering king either. Believe me when I tell you that your hand in marriage was not among my desires then, but your safety and your hand is now of chief import to me and my plans for this once great city.”

  Sydney fought down the bile rising in her throat. I would never marry you.

  “Not even if it I commanded my seawolves to spare your brother’s life when they find him?”

  The ease in which he threw out the offer stunned Sydney into silence.

  Malik Blackfin was happy to fill the void. “Whatever your decisions there, I find it fortunate for me, at least, that you’ve not been offered the choice of our marriage to come. Your father is to announce our engagement not long after the trials have ended and your mother executed.”

  No . . . said Sydney. No, that can’t be.

  “Aye, it is true,” said Malik. “Though I hold little doubt the king believes in his other, not-so-secretive plans to have young Bowrider and his Merrows dispatch me and my Orcs once I’ve saved his city from these outside forces soon to fall upon our city. Until then, our sweet king has great need of me and my seawolves. In truth, King Darius keeps you alive now at my request and on the misguided belief that your life will draw out your true father. Assuming that savage screamer, No Boundaries, still lives, that is. Between us, however, I think the truer reason is that Darius cannot bring himself to part with you. Not for all the memories you bring of fonder days that he once spent with the queen too. He will hold to that image to his demise, poor fool that he is. Again, I find it little wonder why your mother sought a stronger hand at her side.”

  You’re lying, said Sydney. You’re lying about everything.

  “Resist the truth all you will, th
en,” said Malik. “Reality remains, Princess. When all this is done, you will be my wife . . . and your brother’s life hanging on the choice of your decisions to be a good and loyal silent wife or no. Again, no matter your decision there, there will soon be a royal uniting between Merrows and Orcs to put all this other nonsense to rest. And if anything should happen to the king shortly thereafter, well . . .”

  Sydney’s gaze flickered at the hunger she saw in his eyes. If you’re going to kill Darius, why would you tell me?

  “Murder the king? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Malik, his wicked grin ever-present. “And even if I did, you have the right of it. Why should I tell anyone, especially my blushing bride to be?” He winked. “No, I would never murder our sweet Darius. But an accident? Well, that could happen to anyone. A king? A lost prince? No doubt a foolish princess too, for that matter.”

  She glanced at him with more questions in her eyes. Why are you telling me all this? If you really mean to kill Darius, why let me know?

  Malik laughed. “Perhaps because you wish the king dead as much as I?” he asked. “Or that even if you tried to warn him, the king would never hear and believe you. And, if he did, it would drive him mad with still more questions of where my true loyalty lies. Choose an answer, girl, for all our valid options here. The true joy of holding a reputation such as I have is that one never knows what is to be believed and which are falsehoods. For there is the true power of chaos, child – one either stirs the pot, or else they are caught in the stirrings of someone else.” He tapped one of his fingers upon her tank. “Which do you judge yourself to be?”

  A better person than you, said Sydney.

  “A weaker one, rather,” said Malik. “Your continued belief in your own goodness is what landed you in this tank to begin with. Aye, just as your dead guardian and so many other corpses before her believed also. Had your friend, Yvla, kept her silence that day, I might have allowed her to live.”

  No, you wouldn’t have, said Sydney. And Yvla didn’t just believe she was a better person. She was always better than you.

  “For all the good it did her and you,” said Malik. “She, at least, had some fight in her. Even unto the end. Meanwhile, your supposed virtue continues to make you harmless.” He stepped away from the tank. “And, all the while, I offer to lend and teach you strength, girl.”

  How? Sydney asked. How would you think to teach me anything but hate?

  Malik chuckled. “I heard tale of your disdain for the horse-lord, Rupert, after you learned that he was to be your original betrothed. Now that you know my intent, I would rather grant you the choice to begin our royal partnership to come with truth rather than lies.”

  The truth is that no matter what you say, I won’t believe you, said Sydney.

  “And what if I might offer you some assurances of my honesty?” Malik asked. “Call it an early wedding gift to my betrothed from her future husband. A sign of all that lay in store for our partnership to come.”

  You really think that I would trust anything you offer as proof you were honest with me?

  “Ask it of me,” said Malik. “And we will see.”

  Sydney thought to ask for her freedom, then. She wilted, however, when thinking of all those who had come to suffer for her earlier decisions. He’s just going to mess with me for whatever answer I give him, Sydney knew, Malik watching her all the while. The fire within her swelled at the notion of being his plaything to torment. You want to play games? She thought to herself, wondering what answer to give.

  Malik stirred outside her tank. “I’m not a patient Orc, girl. If you would scorn my offer—”

  “Let my brother live,” Sydney interrupted. “And free my mother.”

  “Two favors, then?” Malik smirked. “The first is easily done. The second . . .”

  “Too hard for you to accomplish, Blackfin?”

  “There are games and then there are games, child,” he replied. “Which do you really wish to play with me?”

  “Whichever one frees the most people that I really care about,” said Sydney. “And if you want me to trust you . . . you can make them all happen, no?”

  “I could,” he admitted. “But why give you two gifts when I only offered one?”

  “Because if you want me to believe you,” Sydney fed him the lie. “If you really want me to believe that everything you’ve told me is true, then you’ll let my brother live and save my mother too. Her and all the others who came back to the Salt with her too.” She hesitated. “Because if you can do all of that . . . if you can free them all to safely go back home . . . then, I’ll believe anything you say and do whatever you ask of me.”

  Malik grinned. “I don’t need you to believe me, savage, but it’s nice to know your price.”

  Then, he turned away, taking up his torch once more, and left Sydney without another word.

  26

  LENNY

  After searching near the whole train for the crimson-haired giant, Lenny found Tom Weaver in the same place that both had retreated to when they sought escape from the cheering cries of those who had survived in Røyrkval. Seated alone at the furthest reach of the Sailfish train, no small part of Lenny wondered if he should leave the giant Selkie to his thoughts and grieving for his murdered friend, Vasili. Hesitant in the door’s threshold, Lenny was already turning back into the train car when Tom Weaver spoke up.

  “It’s all right, Dolan,” he said softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the train wheel’s constant clacks moving over the railways beneath them. “You can come on out.”

  “You sure?” Lenny asked, even as he obeyed. “I can leave you be . . .”

  Tom shook his head and waved Lenny to sit with him.

  Lenny did. They sat without speaking a long while, the pair of them seemingly content to let the silence between them stand in favor of the train’s hurtling on toward the Salt capital. As his thoughts often did since Declan’s demise, Lenny reminisced on his father; back to earlier days, when the Dolan father and son would sit together in Crayfish Cavern, all without a word between them. Lenny remembered hating such moments then, and with Declan often frustrated that his son could not tolerate the quiet.

  Lenny found the silence oddly comforting now, no longer needing to fill the air with meaningless words. Instead, he allowed his mind to roam with thoughts of those olden days, back before Declan and all of Lenny’s other loved ones too were stolen away. Where do I go from here, Pop? He wondered now, as he had done countless times since losing Declan. The caboose gently rocked back and forth, near lulling him to sleep, the light from its lantern casting long, moving shadows along the cavern tunnel walls as the train sped by. What am I supposed to do next?

  The tunnel darkness and its moving shadows held no answers for him.

  And so Lenny Dolan allowed such questions and worries to pass through him, comforting himself instead with one of his father’s favorite standbys. Patience, son. He imagined Declan would say in such a moment as Lenny found himself in now. No point in worrying. Just be patient. It’ll all work itself out.

  Experience led Lenny to doubt the latter bit, even as his conscience warned that he was alive and well, despite the losses he and others had suffered. That his family honor remained intact, so long as he stood to honor Declan’s legacy.

  Lenny could not say how long he sat alongside Tom Weaver. Curiosity led him to wonder what thoughts plagued the bigger man also, or if he was plagued at all. If, perhaps, Tom Weaver held such keys of confidence and peace as only time and life and harsh lessons could teach.

  When the elder man shifted from his seated position, Lenny imagined Tom Weaver meant to stand and leave him to his own grief and wonderings. But the Selkie leader did not stand, nor abandon him. Instead, Tom reached inside his suit’s middle pocket and took out the leather-thonged necklace that he had removed from Vasili before placing his friend upon the funeral pyre and set him to burn.

  Tom offered the necklace to Lenny. “Take it, Dolan. It�
�s yours.”

  “Mine?” Lenny asked, accepting the necklace and studying it – a simple string of leather with what looked to be a porous, broken shard of a white shell that had been crudely carved as a pendant. Smooth on some parts, jagged on the others, Lenny shuddered as he ran his fingers over the sides and noted a bit of near invisible markings adorning the pendant. “What kind of shell is this?”

  “It’s not a shell,” said Tom. “It’s bone.”

  “Bone?”

  Tom Weaver nodded. “A tooth, rather,” he said. “Or at least I think it was before someone whittled it down and made some kind of etchings on it.”

  Lenny’s eyebrows raised at the size and shape of it. “What kind of animal would have a tooth as big as—” He stopped short, the answer coming to him of a sudden. “A whale?”

  “I tend to think so,” said Tom. “Short of a dinosaur, I reckon it would’ve been too big for anything else I could imagine. And considering I found it tucked away in the ice mines of Røyrkval . . .” He shrugged.

  Lenny shivered once more, running his thumb over the bit of bone. “What are the markings?”

  “Scrimshaw, would be my guess,” said Tom. “Don’t know what the markings mean. There was a time I hoped to one day figure it out, or find someone who could read it, but . . . well, now, can’t say as I care much.” He sighed. “I watched my last real friend die today, Dolan. A man only gets so many in his life. Once they’re all dead and gone, well . . . can’t say as I see how he ever opens up again to find new ones. All I want now is to find my boy, escape this cursed Salt world, and get us back to home to shore so I can hold my wife again too.”

  Lenny nodded. “I understand.”

  “I don’t doubt you believe that,” said Tom. “Thing is, I don’t guess that necklace and bone there are really some kinda gift. Not like I’ve done you a favor.”

  “How do you mean?”