by Dave Skinner
“Wait… wait a minute. Let us forget I said those things about breaking our deal. You can have your knife back.”
“Too late, and you were never going to keep it.”
Wolf was a good swordsman. You had to be to hold command of a pirate ship in Vee’s armada. Maybe not as good as Vee with his Nadian swords, and maybe not as good as that monster, Cracker, but he had stood against some of the best and won. Unfortunately, he understood after the first few seconds that he was not good enough against this opponent, but he tried. He attacked with as much fury as he could muster, administering fast, efficient strokes that had seen him through a thousand fights, utilizing tricks, feints, and combinations that had killed many men, but the youth’s blades were always there to block his moves. His attack faltered. The boy became the aggressor. His blades flashed. Their speed increased. His blades became a blur. Wolf retreated more and more. The boy pressed him. Wolf’s blades seemed useless. He felt as if he was standing unarmed in front of a whirlwind. He could feel cuts all over his body, but he was unable to even see the strokes that were causing them. He also missed the stroke that killed him. He felt it only as it pierced his black heart.
Chapter 13
Burton was heading towards the entrance to the cave when he saw three people exit it. He recognized Grandmother Adel immediately. She was being carried by the young man they had sent after her.
“You can put me down now, Bray. Leave an old woman some dignity, please. Adel, run and get my cane while I say hello to our Headman. How are things, Burton?”
Burton would have answered her immediately, but all his attention was on the beautiful, red-coated, young woman who had just smiled at him as she sprinted past. How could that be Adel?
“Burton, stop gawking at the young woman, and answer me, or I will tell your wife.”
Burton shook himself and turned to her, “Grandmother, it is so wonderful to have you back. You look good. It warms my heart to see you were not ill-treated during your time away from us.”
“Not ill-treated! Of course I was ill-treated. I suffered horribly. I almost died. Adel’s ministrations, and a potion prepared by the Far Darrig, were all that saved me. Where is that girl anyway? She is not as fast as I remember. Ah, there she is.”
Adel ran up with Grandmother’s cane. The older Adel received it like a queen receiving her sceptre. Other people were gathering and offering her warm wishes on her return. She hobbled off with all the villagers in tow. Bray let them go. Young Adel stayed at his side.
“I suppose you will leave soon,” she said.
“Probably, it depends on the state of my boat. Shall we take a look?”
Adel smiled. “Yes, I would like that.”
***
There was a celebratory meal that night to welcome Grandmother Adel home, and to thank Bray and Young Adel for their help in getting her back. Grandmother Adel revelled in the attention, Bray not so much, although he found the ale to his liking. Young Adel slipped away after the meal. Tad the wood smith told Bray his boat was sail worthy again and itemized the repairs Bray and Adel had already witnessed. As the celebration was breaking up, Burton showed Bray to a small guest house he was to use for the night. It was one room, with a two-person, wooden-framed bed, a thin, grass-stuffed mattress, and a wash basin with a full pitcher of fresh water. Some animal hides covered most of the rock floor. Bray pulled his gift from Amadella out of his pack, spread the blankets on the bed, stripped off his jerkin, and had just finished washing when there was a soft tap at the door. He opened it, and Adel slipped in. She wore nothing but her long red coat, he saw, as she slipped out of it. Her nakedness took his breath away. She said nothing as she came into his arms. He could not stop himself. She was too alluring. There had been siren magic in that potion he was sure.
Later, as they lay together, she lifted her head from where it rested on his chest. “I want to go with you tomorrow. I want to see something of the world before I have to take up my position here.”
“What will Burton say about that?” Bray asked.
“I have already told him, and he agreed. The Far Darrig potion has given Grandmother new stamina. He thinks she will be healthy for some time. Who knows, there may even be another Adel ready to take her place by the time she steps down. It has happened before.”
“I am a Traveller, Adel. A cottage, a wife, a family are not things in my immediate future. Are you good with that?”
“I have no need of those things either. I want to travel and see the world.”
Bray stroked her face. He could feel his body responding to her again, already. “Then the world is something else we can share,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.
Adel moaned, and then whispered back, “Before you make me forget again, I want you to answer a question. Why did Amadella give these wonderful blankets to you?”
“I believe she likes to share her gifts.”
Chapter 14
The small boat he had been tracking for two tides sat on the stretch of sand that made the beach; its sail-wrapped mast lying lengthwise from stem to stern. A dying fire glowed a short distance from the boat, and beyond the fire he could see the place where the Big People slept.
Their sleeping forms were only visible because their blankets glowed with magic. Not a magic dangerous to him or his intention. Far Darrig magic, he concluded from their red aura. The Far Darrig loved their reds.
A wave lifted him as he floated a short distance from shore. His Selkie magic allowed for a quick change to man form when on the land, but he always preferred the water world. His otter body, the form his kind used in water, was stronger, warmer, better overall in every way. With a flick of his tail he could dive below the surface, pick up a meal of clams, and return to float on the waves. The thought of food made him realize he was hungry.
The moon had risen to mid-sky while he watched his intended targets. It was time to move, but first a small meal to appease his hunger and ready his body for the energy the transformation required. He shot below the waves and scooped clams from the rocky bottom. Back on the surface he broke them open, one after the other, savouring their delicious content. As his name suggested, he loved them.
His snack finished, and his snout wiped clean, Clamcraver made his way towards the shore while retaining one of the sharp-edged shells as a weapon. He wished the big people no harm. He had waited until he was positive they slept, so as not to confront them, but if they awoke, his task mattered most. Retrieving his sister’s skin was more important than their lives.
Paddling beachward, he gave a final flick of his tail to shoot up onto the sand, shedding his skin, as he took on his man form.
***
Adel sensed the magic as the Selkie transformed. At first she wanted to ignore the sensation and return to sleep, but as it grew in intensity, her discomfort increased until she was awake. Then the feeling stopped, disappearing in an instant. With her eyes closed she reached out trying to detect the magic again, but was unsuccessful.
She was settling back into sleep when she heard the sound of something moving on the sand by her head. A jolt of anxiety exploded in her body as she twisted upright to her knees.
Beside their sleeping spot a shape loomed in the dying light of the campfire. A man crouched by Bray’s side. He was staring wide-eyed at her, startled by her sudden movement. One hand was outstretched ready to close on the bundle of weapons which Bray kept close, while the other held a piece of clamshell, raised as if to strike. Bray’s shoulder blocked Adel’s view of the intruder as Bray rolled away from her. One of his legs shot out towards the man’s head, but the man flowed backwards, somehow dodging the kick. Both men were on their feet a heartbeat later.
The man’s movements to evade Bray’s kick played through Adel’s mind again and then again. Each time with a slight difference as she struggled to understand what she had witnessed. Bray’s kick missed, but how? Had she experienced another tingle of magic when the man moved? Had he moved? Her mind was now telli
ng her that the man’s head had dissolved, allowing the foot to pass through it. Realization dawned.
“He is magical, Bray,” she warned in a low voice.
“I do not wish to harm either of you,” the creature announced.
“And I cannot allow you to take my weapons,” Bray answered.
“The bag’s contents are of no interest. I want the skin.”
Adel saw some of the tension fall away from Bray’s body. He straightened and raised his hands with the palms out. “Are you Selkie?” he asked.
“Yes man, I am and you have my sister’s skin. I will take it back and set her free from bondage.”
“If you will allow us to remove the weapons, you may take it. I was unaware the skin belonged to one of the fay folk.”
“Let the female empty the container,” the Selkie said while maintaining a grip on his clam shell weapon.
Adel scooted around on her knees to the weapon bag. She unhooked the leather strip that secured the otter-head end flap and dumped the contents, allowing them to spill out in a controlled manner. Cautiously she stood up. Holding the sack lengthwise across both of her outstretched hands, she presented it to the Selkie.
He took the skin with reverence. He appeared to forget the humans as he raised it to his lips and kissed the flossy softness.
Bray stepped away from his weapons. “I am sorry for whatever pain I caused your sister, and I hope I have not damaged her skin by making the bag. I was not aware it was anything other than an otter-skin.”
“My sister’s magic will repair it when she puts it on,” the Selkie said as he inspected the skin. “You have bound the seams strongly. I must open them before I can swim with it, and I suppose I will have to do that in my human form.”
“We can help you,” Adel offered. “Bray knows what he did to make the bag. He will be happy to unmake it for you. Is that not correct, Bray?”
“It is the least I can do to atone for the trouble I have caused you.”
The Selkie remained silent for a few heartbeats before he responded. “You would do that for me?”
“Yes, of course,” Bray answered. “If I had known it was a Selkie skin, I never would have accepted it as a gift.”
The hope that had grown on the Selkie’s face dropped away. “It was a gift?” he exclaimed in a pained whisper, as he dropped to his knees on the sand.
Adel and Bray looked at each other, but neither understood what was happening.
“Is that a problem?” Adel asked.
The Selkie looked up with tears in his eyes. “If a skin is sold by the one who stole it, it can be retrieved from anyone. A gifted skin must be returned from the hands of the gifted to the hands of the giver.”
“So we cannot return it to you as a gift?”
“No. It must be returned to the person who gave it.”
“So, I have to give it back to the fisherman I got it from, the man who sold me a leaky boat in return for chopping his wood. Then what happens? Is he the one who is holding your sister captive?”
“I believe so. My sister told me she watched him hand the skin to a young man who traded for a boat.”
“Then we shall return and pay this fisherman a visit.”
***
Adel enjoyed the next few days. Clamcraver spent most of his time in the water. He would sometimes return to his human form and sprawl on the bow of their little boat where he answered Bray’s questions while they ate a meal of sea food he supplied.
Bray’s love of learning was obvious in their conversations. He had Clamcraver explain the laws and customs that governed his kind, their stories, and their beliefs.
“I have heard female Selkie will often return to the shore and take human form. Why is that? Would the Selkie prefer to live on land?”
“No! Never, but you are correct, more of our females are attracted to land than are our males. I do not understand the appeal.”
“What do they do when they are out of the water?” Adel asked.
“They repose in the moon light and comb their hair.”
“Is that all?”
“Unless they are captured and imprisoned, then they must work as humans do. Cooking, cleaning, and copulating are their main duties.”
“When they are in their water form, do they spend a great amount of time on their hair?” Adel continued.
“No, we do not have that type of hair when in our water form.”
“But you primp. I have witnessed you stroking your face hairs while you float.”
“Yes, that is how we clean ourselves.”
“Do you do it for any other reason besides cleaning?” Bray asked.
“We all love to preen. It is enjoyable. It makes us feel delight.”
“Then I would submit that you have your answer. Some human women like to brush their hair. It offers them the same joy you get from preening, and they will pursue pleasure even when it involves danger.”
“I will think on what you have said,” Clamcraver answered. “More clams?” Bray and Adel shook their heads.
“Well I will,” he admitted as he dropped into the water.
“He lives up to his name,” Adel observed.
Bray smiled at her. “Do you like to have your hair brushed?” he asked.
“Yes I do, are you offering?” she responded.
“I am.”
Chapter 15
Aramas of Nadia hated the men he was travelling with, even hated that he was travelling. He was a courtier; he belonged in the palace, not hiking along dirt roads in the middle of the Destroyer’s own forest. Unfortunately, he had witnessed the death of the Nadian Crown Prince a few years past. His world changed for the worst that day.
His life was full of promise before that. He had been a courtier in the Crown Prince’s retinue, had a room in the palace, and respect from the servants. But most important of all had been his lovely clothes; silk pantaloons, delicate slippers, and lovely tailored blouses. Those things had marked his status, but no more. Now, his slippers were worn through, his feet hurt, and his adorable clothes were covered in the dust of the road, as was his body and his hair. He was travelling with four assassins who treated him as badly as the prince had at times.
He was not sorry that the prince was dead. The man had been cruel and arrogant, but serving him had allowed Aramas both status and wealth. He enjoyed his position despite the occasional tongue lashing he took from the prince. But his good life had ended when the prince died. Aramas had never shown a hint about how he felt regarding the prince’s death. He was too good a courtier to allow his true emotions to show, but in private, to himself, he acknowledged that the death put a smile on his face. The look of surprise and fear on the man’s arrogant face had given him pleasure, and that fact bothered Aramas in ways he did not understand. Was he a sadist who enjoyed seeing other people hurt, or did it have something to do with the man who had bested the prince?
Aramas referred to him as the other because he was certain he knew who the youth was, but he had never admitted it to anyone. He was named the killer, or the assassin, by most. The king, for some unexplained reason, called him a pirate, but Aramas knew the truth. He was the other Crown Prince, Bray, son of Prince Aragon, nephew to the current king, grandson to the old one. Aramas believed whole heartedly, although he had only seen him that one time, that Bray was someone he would pledge his life to if given the chance. He had impressed Aramas that much in the few moments they had spoken.
Unfortunately, he was travelling with four murderers whose task it was to kill the killer. And it was Aramas’s job to identify him, point him out to the assassins, so they could do their deed. He had no wish to do it, but he knew his life was forfeit if he failed. The king had made that abundantly clear to him.
But he did not have to worry about it today. They had learned that their quarry had travelled this way. A fisherman in the last village had relayed to them how a stranger meeting the description had traded manual labour for a small boat. The trade had happened outs
ide the village they were now approaching, but it had occurred sometime previous. They were on the trail, but still far behind, and for that Aramas was grateful.
***
“I am returning your gift,” Bray announced.
“That is unnecessary. It was a gift. You keep it,” the fisherman insisted.
“I cannot do that. I did not understand what it was when I accepted it.”
The fisherman’s face turned mean and his eyes grew cold. “What do you mean? It is an otter-skin, nothing more.”
“You know that is false,” Adel injected. “It is a Selkie skin, and you should be ashamed of what you are doing. Now, take the skin back, and put an end to the poor creature’s suffering.” She grabbed the skin from Bray’s hand and tried to pass it to the man, but he pulled away as the skin touched him, slamming the door on them.
“Go away!” he screamed from behind the door.
“Your gift is returned,” Adel shouted back. “We are leaving it on the chair, but we will return tomorrow morning to make sure you have given it to its rightful owner.”
***
Aramas found the fisherman sitting on a chair outside his hovel. He was holding an otter-skin in his hands, and displayed anger in his hunched posture, until he saw Aramas’ four companions.
“We would ask a question of you, good man,” Aramas said as they came close. The man did not answer, so Aramas continued. “We are looking for a young man who we believe you had commerce with. Some suggest that you traded him a boat for labour some time ago. Do you recall him?”
This time the fisherman showed interest. He looked at the assassins. It was easy to guess their purpose from their appearance and the weapons they carried. “I remember him, in fact he returned here tonight. You just missed him.”
Aramas’s bowels almost let go as he realized what was being said. Before he could utter another word, one assassin spoke. “Where’d he go?”
“I know not where he went, but I might know where he will be tomorrow morning. You mean to kill him, do you not?”