Keir

by Pippa Jay

  Keir took her hand. “I am honored that you wish to.”

  * * * *

  The raft floated onward and the day passed, but the land did not seem to come any closer. Quin doubted they could reach it before nightfall and hoped the weather would hold. Lulled by the swaying of the raft and with the world wrapped in darkness, they fell asleep. The tide still carried them toward land, although the wind had died to a faint breath and the sail flapped weakly in its frame. The water lapped at the edges of the bamboo poles, making the occasional pop of a bursting air bubble in the open ends.

  A sudden thump underneath the raft vibrated through the logs, startling them both from sleep. They sat up, Quin with her hands flat on the surface to feel for movement. A pale predawn glow had taken the edge from the darkness, but revealed little except the expanse of gently cresting waves surrounding them. Another resounding thud shook the raft. Heart racing, Quin grabbed one of the long poles. A cold jolt of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. Following her lead, Keir reached into their store box for one of the blades and they scanned the water for the source of the noise. For a moment, there was nothing. Then a third hard strike under the raft lifted one corner, almost throwing them off balance. As the craft settled again, Quin leaned over the edge and saw a sinuous shape disappear into darker water in a trail of phosphorescent bubbles.

  “Oh, Powers!”

  “What is it?” Keir demanded.

  Something shot out of the sea in answer, showering them with water as it lifted its huge head above them–a fearsome sea serpent with writhing feelers that sprouted around a cavernous mouth full of sharp teeth. Large gills encrusted with barnacles protruded from either side, surmounted by a crest of broad fins. Its baleful yellow eyes glowed under bony ridges, and a forked tongue flickered behind the grill of teeth.

  Seawater trickled down its scaly neck as Quin stared, her jaw slack. It growled–a low, threatening sound–and her breath froze in her lungs. The monster lowered its head, slitted nostrils flaring, then surged forward and snapped at her. It missed her by mere inches as she dodged back instinctively. Still growling, it pulled back its head and struck again. This time she was too slow. The massive head slammed into her, knocked the breath from her body. She pitched toward the water, scrabbling on the raft for a hold and snagging her fingers into the lashings. Pain spiked through her hands as if she had broken every bone in them.

  Keir slashed at the monster with his knife, but missed. It dove at him and he swung the blade again, chopping off one of the feelers fanning its face. The creature howled in pain and shook its head, scattering water droplets and blood across the raft. Quin scrambled back onto the raft, thinking it distracted but the creature turned toward the movement and lunged again.

  Without thinking, she lifted the pole and thrust it into the wide mouth. It bit down and snapped the thin pole in half, leaving her holding a splintered end.

  The monster spat the broken piece out and roared–a thunderous challenge that echoed over the water. Behind it the sun had begun to rise, the silver light gilding its scaly hide with white fire. Its skin rolled as it shuddered, and it launched itself back, and back, until it fell into the bluing sea beneath it and disappeared, rocking the raft and sending a deluge of water over them.

  Quin looked right and left, then behind them, searching for movement in the pale dawn light.

  “Do you think it’s given up?” Keir asked silently, and one look told her that he still quivered with adrenalin.

  “With a pair of sitting targets available for breakfast?” she returned, licking seawater from her lips. “What do you think?”

  Keir stared past her. “Quin.” He pointed into the water as a bow wave of white surf headed straight for them at speed.

  “Hold onto something!” The wave hit them. The raft shuddered and tilted up at the near end. Despite her own warning Quin couldn’t hold on, and tumbled into the water. The sea closed over her head, water filling her nose and mouth. She flailed wildly until she broke the surface. Choking, she dragged in a desperate breath and watched as the sea monster shunted the raft across the waves in a plume of white water, its serpentine body snaking under the surface. Then it was gone.

  “Quin!”

  The anguish in Keir’s voice stirred her to action and she swam toward the raft, forcing herself to keep calm and take strong, measured strokes through the water. She tried to ignore the panic. To concentrate on the raft and not what waited beneath her.

  “Quin!” Keir yelled from the raft, and the alarm in his voice was something she couldn’t ignore. “Behind you!”

  Sobbing, she glanced over her shoulder and redoubled her efforts. A crest of white water followed her. Keir was still screaming but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Between strokes she saw him lift his knife as if to throw it. With a roar she could feel in her chest, the creature shot from the sea, and the sound pulled her gaze from Keir. The monster reared over her and she froze, treading water as her universe condensed to the sight of a cavern filled with teeth, coming for her. Before it reached her, it lurched, fell sideways. It took a moment for her to understand, to see the harpoon impaled in the side of its head. A screech split the air as it thrashed and bucked before crashing into the sea on top of her. The impact crushed the breath from her. The water beat against her as the creature carried her down. Pain consumed her and she felt Keir scream before the water swallowed her up and all thought and feeling stopped.

  * * * *

  Keir threw himself into the sea. Pain came first as he slammed into the water so hard that it knocked the breath from him. It filled his ears and stung his eyes as he thrashed. Burned his nose. Scalded his throat. His mind blanked in panic. Dim, featureless water surrounded him. The bulk of the sea monster was a shadow in the murk, swaying with the current. Where was Quin? Where was she?

  His lungs shrieked for air and he thrust himself up to the surface. He gasped a breath but sank before he could snatch another. His arms flailed uselessly. He could not see, could not move. The water dragged at his limbs, sucked him down.

  “Quin!”

  Iron bands seized his chest, pinned his arms, forced the last whisper of breath from his lungs. They yanked him to the surface, to the wooden side of a sailing ship that loomed overhead. The bonds crushing him revealed themselves as arms, midnight blue like his own skin, beautifully patterned with delicate scales.

  He coughed and choked, his throat raw. “Quin…”

  “They will get her,” his rescuer assured him.

  Keir had no energy to protest, to fight. Instead he let his savior tow him to a rope ladder, let the Metraxian place his hands on the rungs and press him upward. His gaze swung to where the ship’s crew hoisted the dead monster up the side of the ship.

  He felt numb, as if the water had paralyzed his thoughts and senses. Quin must be dead, must be drowned or crushed beneath the monster. As they reached the top of the ladder, he sprawled onto the deck, not caring as pain jarred through his knees and hands. Again, the Metraxian tugged him up to face him.

  He matched Keir in both height and coloring, his scales a dusky-blue and his eyes the color of the sky. He was bare-chested and well-muscled, broader than Keir, and bore intricate tattoos across his chest, with a necklace of shells for adornment. He grasped Keir’s forearms, holding him steady on the shifting deck.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Breathlessly, Keir shook his head, tugging himself free. “Quin?” Did they have her yet?

  Without another word, the Metraxian took him to where Quin was being hauled up in a makeshift sling by several muscular young men. More tethered the snake-like sea creature to the side of their vessel with strong, heavy-duty ropes, shouting instructions to each other.

  As they laid Quin on the deck, Keir rushed forward and gathered her into his arms. She coughed as he moved her, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief, his agony washed away by the feel of her heart pounding frantically and her ragged gasps for air.

  A
hand touched his shoulder. “We should take her below deck, let her rest.”

  He nodded in mute agreement then lifted Quin. She leaned her head against him, her mind touching his in quiet reassurance. Their rescuer led them across the deck to a set of steps heading down. The Metraxian opened a door ahead of them, indicating a nearby chair. Keir lowered her into it but she suddenly put her arms around him, holding him tight as she shivered, and buried her face in his neck. He stroked her hair then glanced up at the Metraxian as he laid a blanket across Quin’s shoulders.

  “Thank you,” Keir told him.

  The saurian male inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I am S’rano, captain of this ship. You are Keirlan?”

  “Yes. And may I ask how you know my name, sir?”

  The captain smiled. “The entire planet has been searching for you. We were just out hunting sea wraiths and good luck came with us, I suppose. Welcome to my vessel.”

  “Thank you. Your timing was perfect.”

  “We hunt them by night usually, when they feed. We did not expect to catch one so late,” the captain smiled, “but then, you made ideal bait for them. No one would set sail in the dark in such a craft as yours.”

  Keir nodded, sickly thankful that their ignorance had cost them nothing more than a soaking. “We did not know.”

  “You are not Metraxian,” S’rano agreed. “Where have you sailed from?”

  “The small, crescent-shaped island, with the mountain.”

  “Ah, Kasha-Asor. It means Moon-Crescent Isle. No one would have looked for you there.”

  At the man’s words, Quin sat up and released her hold on Keir, but he kept a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She looked up at the captain. “Why not?”

  “It’s taboo. To islanders.” He shrugged, and Keir wondered if that meant he did not take the prohibition too seriously. “It belongs to the royal court, a private hideaway.”

  That surprised Keir. “You have been on the island?”

  S’rano grinned, clearly unabashed at being caught in a breach of established custom. “Maybe, once or twice. It’s a good area for sea wraiths, and a safe place to anchor.”

  “Is your hunt over now?” Quin asked.

  “Yes, my lady. We return to our village to celebrate.” He looked to Keir. “The hunt is an ancient rite of passage for young men. If we return successful, they will be initiated into adulthood and may ask for the woman of their choice in marriage. Despite the opinions of the city we keep to the old customs, though that is each individual’s choice.”

  “Will you be able to contact the city and tell them you’ve found us?”

  “Yes, but it will take some time. We keep ourselves remote. You’ll be our guests for a day or two, if you wish.”

  “Thank you, captain, for your rescue and your hospitality,” Keir said.

  “It is an honor. Friends of the queen rarely come to the islands. I’ll have some food brought for you. Please make yourselves comfortable.” He turned to a large cupboard built into the wall of the cabin, retrieving some clothing. “I’m afraid we have nothing suitable for you, my lady,” he apologized, as he passed the bundle to Keir, who accepted them gratefully. “But these are, at least, clean and dry.”

  He took a bottle from his desk, pouring two cups. Keir recognized the blue beetle juice from the queen’s celebration, served now without the addition of ice. He accepted his and drank it down in a single swallow, appreciating the burn of it this time.

  As he replaced his empty cup, he saw Quin shaking so badly she could barely lift hers. After setting his own cup down, he knelt and wrapped his hands over hers to steady them, then helped her drink. Her eyes met his over the rim in wordless thanks as she took slow, measured sips. His thoughts reached her, full of reassurances and love.

  “I will leave you for a moment,” S’rano said, interrupting their silent communion. “We sail for home now. It will take two or three hours.” He bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

  Keir listened to the shouts and unfamiliar noises as the crew rigged to sail, feeling the ship turning by the tilt of the deck. Quin sat trembling with her hands still clasped around her empty cup.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  She nodded, although a glimmer of tears shone in her eyes.

  He slid one hand along her cheek, burying his fingers in her wet hair. “We are safe now.”

  “For now,” Quin said, woefully.

  “You still sense danger?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed, wondering what strange force haunted her. “Just a few moments ago, I thought I had lost you,” he said. “That was bad enough. What could possibly be worse?”

  She shook her head. “I’m probably imagining things are worse than they are. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “You cannot tell for sure?”

  “If I could do that I wouldn’t have taken the gamble to stay on Metraxi.” She frowned. “I wish I knew. But I don’t.”

  Keir felt frustration knot in his chest. If it caused Quin such distress, then it must be something significant, but pursuing the subject seemed pointless. “We should get changed,” he suggested. “Instead of sitting around in wet clothes.” He grinned. “Or will you leave me to rot?”

  That brought a faint smile to Quin’s face. “Where did you get such a terrible idea?”

  Laughing, Keir sorted through the clothing. There was a sleeveless tunic in white he put aside for her. Swiftly stripping off his own soaked apparel, he pulled on trousers that ended just below his knees, with a sleeveless top, both made of a thin, light material. Quin changed too, the tunic long enough to be a short dress, since she lacked the height of the natives.

  He pushed the wet hair out of her face as she stood before him then tidied the tangles before hugging her close. “I thought I had lost you,” he murmured. The sudden, terrifying possibility shook him, carved a hole in his heart. I cannot lose her. I could not bear it…

  “It’ll take more than a slimy sea monster to get rid of me,” she joked.

  Anger filled him, and a terrible desperation. He needed her. “Marry me.”

  “What?” He heard her gasp, felt every muscle in her body lock rigid. “No…”

  Hurt and disappointment stabbed him in the chest and closed his throat tight. Perhaps his proposal had been too sudden, too brusque. He forced the words out. “I love you, Quin. Perhaps this is not your custom, but it is mine.”

  Quin leaned back, both palms pressed against his chest as if to hold him at bay, her steel gray eyes wide. “This isn’t about custom. I…I just can’t–” He released her and pushed away, but she caught his arm. “It isn’t because I don’t love you–”

  “Then what?” He tried to suppress the rage he felt. Whatever her reasons for refusing, for hurting him, she had almost died today and he could not forget that feeling.

  Quin pulled him back to her, tugged his arms around her waist as she nestled into him. Despite his resentment, he let her do so, needing to hold her as badly as she seemed to want to be held. “I just can’t. Not yet.”

  Bitterness tainted his thoughts. Did she not love him as much as he did her? Did he love her enough to wait, if time would be all it took?

  He sighed, and tightened his arms around her, trying to shed the bad feelings. You are here with me, and that is all I care about. Had he not said that himself, back on Kasha-Asor? Perhaps, eventually, she might consent.

  Quin curled her arms around his waist, and he could sense how shaken she was, and how tired. Now was not the time to force the issue. “Why do you not try to sleep?” he suggested, and urged her toward the bed behind them.

  Quin tried to protest, but he guided her to it and insisted she lie down. “I’m not an invalid,” she complained, even as she capitulated.

  “I did not say you were. But I think being half-drowned by a sea monster earns you a rest.”

  Frowning, she wriggled down under blankets. There was a brief interruption when a knock on the do
or turned out to be one of S’rano’s crew with a tray of fruit and bread. Quin declined to eat anything, and Keir knelt by her side, stroking her damp hair. With surprising speed, she sank into a deep sleep leaving him free to eat, though he put some aside for her before venturing up on deck.

  Keir had never been to sea and knew nothing about boats or sailing. S’rano’s vessel was some forty feet in length and, although it had clearly been built from a dark wood, had the same fluid, organic feel to it as T’rill’s convoluted palace. It held a crew of twenty–all men around his own age at a guess, bare-chested and muscular, working seamlessly together. S’rano stood at the wheel, keeping his ship on a steady course toward the land they had hoped to reach by raft. Keir joined him, and stood silent as he watched the crew work. The ship cut through the waves as swift and sure as a blade, and he found himself constantly trying to balance as it rocked to the rhythm of the sea.

  The captain watched Keir closely. “You’ve never sailed?” S’rano asked, raising his voice over the booming of the wind in the sails and the ship hitting the waves, salt spray blowing over the sides.

  The Salusian shook his head, trying to brace himself against the shifting deck.

  S’rano gestured him over and offered up the ship’s wheel, placing his hands for him and steadying it with one hand himself for reassurance. Vibrations thrummed through the ship from the collision of opposing forces: current against rudder, waves against the hull, wind filling the sails. There was a pulse to it, like a heart beating, and he tried to feel for it, following the tempo.

  S’rano grinned approval and pointed out an obvious peak on the landmass ahead. “Try to keep her in line with that!” he shouted. “Don’t fight her. Let the ship guide you.”

  Determined to get this right, Keir fixed his eyes on the indicated landmark. It was hard work keeping the vessel on target, but he found it easier to stop analyzing and feel his way.

  S’rano let go, passing over complete control of his ship and standing beside him. “You learn quickly,” he told him. “Perhaps the sea is in your blood, after all.”

  Keir grinned back as the wind drove salt spray across his face. “Do you hunt those sea creatures often?”