A Tide of Shadows

by Tom Bielawski

  Carym was surprised by Yag’s piety, as he began his meal with an invocation to the goddess, Saryln, thanking her for the bounty of the sea before them and asking for speed to outwit and outmaneuver his enemies. It was remarkable, Carym thought, how neither Yag nor his crew seemed overly concerned that they would in fact be caught by the Shugu’s fleet. Their optimism seemed ill-placed and illogical, as Carym was sure there would be a battle by noon tomorrow; yet their optimism was infectious. He shook his head wryly as he surveyed the table fare; fresh salmon, spiced coral cakes, seasoned Amberlouvian Kelpy Beans, with sweet apple wine and fresh seawater to drink. Carym hadn’t eaten this well in ages, and after a receiving a coy smile from Gennevera, he felt truly content.

  A man dressed in dark blue clothes streaked with silver lightning bolts and studded with gems glided in into the cabin. Long brown hair framed a pale face, his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. The man callously surveyed the gathered company then nodded, confirming some silently held assessment, and bent to his captain’s ear. A frown creased the old captain’s visage ever so briefly, and was replaced by a smile as he nodded curtly to his wizard. The grim faced wizard glared at the guests for a moment, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the cabin, the sound of his boots striking the deck loudly as he went. Carym had not known there was a wizard on the ship. It was comforting, as a wizard could be an asset in battle, but also odd as sailors were very superstitious and distrustful of magic-wielders.

  After dinner the officers and the captain made small talk about trade, economic situations around Llars that concerned their clients, and the quality of various privateers prowling the wild waters of the north. Carym wondered nervously if this cool captain was ever going to show concern for the dangerous men who now hunted them. Finally, the subject of the Shugu was broached.

  “It pains me that you have become victims of circumstance,” Yag began. “Unfortunately, I took a very big risk in the waters of the Shugu not long ago. I slipped some cargo past the naval blockade of a renegade province the Shugu’s empire. He has summoned me, a number of times, to appear before his court with an explanation of how I achieved this feat.” The captain stopped telling his story for a moment, giving himself time to light a beautiful pipe made of ivory. After a few satisfactory puffs, he smiled and continued. “The Shugu claims only to want me to reveal the manner in which I escaped his blockade. But, he has already learned something of that secret if not how to achieve it.”

  “No, the Shugu wants my ship and he wants to see me hang from its yardarm. The Shugu will not see you as innocent passengers. You’ll all hang alongside me.”

  “You doubt your ability to outrun them, then?” Carym was growing angrier by the minute. He realized that the captain’s calm demeanor was a facade, himself aware that no tailwind was strong enough to help them reach safe harbor anywhere. He felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach and instinctively reached for the bag of stones in his pocket, somehow their presence calmed him. Still, he feared for himself and Zach...and Gennevera.

  “That, sir, is the heart of the matter. Our salvation lies in the secret which I possess and the Shugu so desperately wants. We will escape him, of that you may be certain,” he said with grimness in his voice. “I’ll not have your blood on my hands!” His stern gaze fell upon everyone in the room, not losing a single puff of smoke from his pipe as his eyes lingered upon each face.

  “I must have assurances, however. I can accept no less than total secrecy from each of you, regarding what we are about to do.” The old privateer was very hesitant in his speech, and very quiet. It was apparent that he had hoped things would not progress to this point and he clearly regretted what he was about to say. “I never make idle threats, and I will not start now. I promise you, I cannot allow you to leave this ship should you fail to give me your sacred promise of silence on the matter which we shall discuss shortly.” Yag looked every person in the eye, though it was apparent that the only ones who did not know what was about to be said were the passengers.

  Carym met Yag’s eye and nodded solemnly, hope rising in his heart. Zach scowled but nodded, and Gennevera bowed her head deeply, her raven tresses framing her face. Yag exhaled, forcing a puff of his breath to blow his long mustaches out. He smiled and nodded.

  “Very well,” he said grimly. “This ship is capable of a most amazing feat. A transformation so powerful the kings of the world would sell their great treasuries to have it!” There was a gleam in the old captain’s eye. Carym felt the stones in his pouch pulsing strongly, and he reached into the pouch instinctively grasping the stones in his hand. Suddenly everything seemed to shift in his vision, his head pounded and a paradoxical sensation of cold fire coursed through him. He felt powerful, giddy, almost drunk, as rivers of colored light crackled and flew around the room. The shock of the vision caused him to blink rapidly and he tried his best not to let on. Reluctantly he let go of the stones and the vision left him, breathless and trembling, thirsting for the sensation to fill him again. He glanced quickly around the cabin but none seemed to have noticed.

  “The ancients possessed a powerful magic that allowed them the ability to travel through the Underllars with ease. Each of the great lakes of this world are connected through subterranean rivers. Massive cave systems exist below the surface, teeming with life, full of gem mines and veins of gold and silver waiting to be exploited.” Carym thought the tale a bit fanciful, but Zach was enraptured by the talk and Gennevera nodded as though the old man confirmed something she had long suspected. “Entire civilizations existed below the surface of this world centuries and centuries ago, and they have been centuries abandoned; but the cities exist to this day. And we have seen them!”

  “Get on with it, Yag!” hissed Zach. “You have our attention. How do we get there and how does that help our plight?”

  “We go below the waves,” said Yag with eerie finality. The passengers stared at the man, wondering if he was going mad. Carym knew, somehow, that the man was perfectly sane. The stones told him so, this ship was veritably pulsing with magic. “Under cover of darkness, we shall descend below the waves and the Shugu will find his prey has once again escaped!” Yag abruptly stood. “I have duties to attend, please excuse me.”

  “To your cabin, gentlemen. My lady,” the first officer announced as the rest of the officers left the cabin. “For your own safety.”

  Was he for real? Carym had no doubt that the ship possessed potent magic, but he would sooner expect it to fly than to sail below the waves. And what would keep them all from drowning? Gennevera took Carym by the hand and followed Zach who had sauntered out after the officers. The same grim looking petty officer who had met them earlier on the weather deck pointed toward the hatch that led below.

  “Below decks please!”

  When Carym and Gennevera reached the bottom of the stairs Zach had already disappeared into the cabin and shut the door. It was clear to Carym that his friend would not change his views of the Keneerie woman and let out a ragged sigh as he stared at the cabin door. Wistfully remembering his wife, he longed for her warm embrace, and quite suddenly he felt her presence. It was a comforting and warm sensation, reminding him of her eternal love for him and that they would be reunited in heaven. For now he knew he must live this life and live it fully, she had given him closure and approval to move on. Beside him stood an exciting, breathtaking woman. Her beauty mesmerized him, her intelligence and charm caught him, and her noble poise held him. She looked quietly back at Carym for a long moment, and then she spoke.

  “The ancient histories told of the Uta Milla Empire, located far beneath the surface of Llars, and their amazing manner of travel. I never fancied that I would one day see that fabled place!” He was lost in her large golden-brown eyes; she smiled warmly at him. A sensation distracted him, however, and doubt assailed him. He felt the pull of the stones in his pocket and realized with mild annoyance this was the source of that which distracted him from the woman’s eyes.

&nbs
p; “I have never heard of such a place, my lady,” said Carym stiffly as he walked to the porthole and looked out to the blackness of the sea beyond. “Could it be true that we are about to sail below the seas? Do we go to our doom?”

  “I am hardly a lady, Carym. In fact I am merely Keneerie; a Low Elf,” she said, sadness in her voice. He wanted to reach out to her then, hold her close. Yet he resisted the dangerous thoughts, remembering how little he knew of this woman, though yearning to love once again. “But I am sure we do not go to our doom.”

  “If your beauty is indicative of your kind, then you do not deserve such a menial title, but rather one as beautiful as you are.”

  “Please, Carym. I don’t deserve your praise, as I’m sure you will see in time,” she said and looked away. Fearful of having offended her, Carym gave in to his emotions. Caution be damned! He thought to himself as he put his arm around her shoulder, sharing his view of the inky blackness of night beyond the porthole.

  “I do not know much of these Sisters of Grymm, my lady. What is their purpose?”

  Gennevera was quiet a moment, before finally speaking. “You will hear many things about my order for it has a nefarious reputation. Many people think we are assassins or black wizards. It is not true,” she paused for a moment to study his reaction. But Carym gave no hint of his thoughts. She continued, “Grymm is indeed the keeper of souls; he greets them at the end of life and directs them to their eternal resting place. Where the souls go is a direct result of the life they have led and the gods they have served. We are merely Grymm’s servants on Llars and we do not condone murder. We believe people will die when it is meant for them to die.”

  “Now that you mention it, I recall one of those black robed Sisters who appeared in our village many years ago. Old Maggie Markham claimed for the longest time that the spirit of her long dead husband was haunting her house, making her cat attack her in the dark. Dryume, a druid who lived nearby tired of wasting his precious healing potions on the woman and finally sent for one of the Sisters of Grymm.”

  “We do communicate with the spirits of those who have passed, to help those who linger to find their way. What happened?” she asked.

  “Well, the Sister examined Maggie’s claim. And found that Maggie was in fact, possessed,” he leaned in whispering.

  “Really?” she asked in wonder.

  “Yes, she told Maggie that she was possessed of a senile mind and not to ever bother the Sisterhood again; lest she be sent to Grymm prematurely!” the pair laughed together for a few moments. Carym studied her, silently wondering why she would choose such a morbid life. As the ship rode the upside of a high swell, Gennevera fell into his arms. As the ship crested and rode the downside of the swell the pair lost their balance and grabbed the handrails.

  Gennevera appeared a bit nervous now, her former stately grace gone. Carym chuckled. “We should be coming up any.....minute,” he finished lamely as he realized they were not coming up. The ship was still riding downward at an alarming angle suggesting that they were, in fact, sinking. An eerie green glow slowly surrounded the ship, filling the portholes and seeping in between the beams.

  “We go below the waves,” he whispered in awe, reality setting in.

  The two struggled toward the woman’s cabin, preferring their own company to that of Zach and his dismal attitude. They closed the door to Gennevera’s cabin and made their way across the tilted floor. This will take some getting used to, Carym thought.

  All manner of strange creatures flitted into, and out of, the dim green view of the depths as he stared out, mesmerized. Gennevera held onto him for support as the two looked out together. Various small fishes appeared here and disappeared, followed by a very strange looking blob with tentacles. Then Carym saw something he did recognize, a shark. All sailors knew well the dangers that giant Rock Sharks posed to ships and their crew. Voracious predators, they were known to stalk ships waiting for something, or someone, worth eating to fall into the waters. Among many seafaring folk, a death penalty sentence imparted upon a crewman usually meant being thrown overboard in waters where Rock Sharks thrived.

  This particular creature drifted lazily alongside the ship, its giant eyeball seemed to be peering inside. He hoped the beast hadn’t taken a notion to ram the ship with its rock hard skin and razor sharp spines as they were known to do to smaller vessels. But, just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and Carym let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  He felt as though his life had spun so far out of control that he just wasn’t going to worry over the details anymore. He had begun to approach this whole affair with a cavalier attitude. He was committed to this quest now and had resigned himself to a danger filled and arduous journey; despairing over details and worrying over danger just wasn’t worth the effort. Even if he was surrounded by water and should, by rights, be drowning.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” she leaned close to him. Her attraction to him powerful and deep. She knew the rules, and she knew her mission. Still, she always felt out of place in the convent, among her sisters, yet she stayed because she knew no other life. Carym’s presence energized her, made her feel like she was important, not like a lowly Keneerie but a lady in a royal court. Which made the choices before her that much more difficult. Carym leaned closer to her, the loneliness of these long years finally caught up with him. Carym put his arm around Gennevera’s waist and pulled her close to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and the two quietly watched until nothing but the faint green glow of the porthole illuminated the cabin.

  C H A P T E R

  11

  The Pack Hunts.

  The Cost of a Cure.

  The massive black wolves padded quietly through the forest toward the human encampment. The pack leader, distinguishable by the streaks of silver trailing from her eyes to the back of her head, stopped to sniff the air. Sensing the nearness of prey, she continued on, leading the other three wolves. Her quarry lay beyond the next hill top, a small camp inhabited by the nomadic people of the region. The massive black wolves were driven by an instinct deeper and darker than that of any other creature alive. Their instincts drove them to feed on the two-legs, satiating their thirst on the blood of the upright walkers. Her hackles rose, her ears lay back and she padded along low to the ground, saliva dripping in anticipation of the kill.

  Fresh blood soon, she thought. The others heard. Hungry, must strike. The others did not respond. To disagree with the pack leader meant death in a most unpleasant way. This pack leader was very strong as each had found out to one degree or another, thus confirming her status.

  A thought drifted to her mind from her right flank with urgency. Wolves! The thought was followed closely by the scent of Ooktook’s pack. Anger and frustration drifted among the black wolves. As massive and powerful as they were, four black wolves were no match for a pack of thirty timber wolves.

  We wait, commanded the pack leader. Ooktook’s pack must have them surrounded by now. The timber wolves had far keener senses then those of the black wolves and could usually find and out-maneuver the dark beasts easily.

  Ooktook herself padded silently into the clearing where the lead black wolf stood, tail twitching like an angry cat. Ooktook had a beautiful silvery blue coat with black and gray patches on her flanks and back and stopped with her head held aloft, her tail straight, her ears up. She was at ease and in command. In a one-on-one match the black wolf could kill Ooktook easily, but her pack would not allow that. Ooktook was something of a queen in this part of the wood, and was respected by most of the woodland creatures.

  You must not kill these upright walkers, ailing kin. “Ailing kin” was what timber wolves always called the black wolves. These are not prey.

  Why? demanded the black wolf, angrily.

  You know why, ailing kin. We do not harm these uprights, they help the land.

  The pack leader growled in reply, tail quivering, her head still low and ready to attack. Ooktook acted as though sh
e had not noticed the other’s state and calmly circled her.

  We do not wish to harm you, ailing kin. There are many dark upright-walkers coming this way to attack. If you help me destroy them, you may have their meat. It is not suitable for my kind, but you will find them preferable, I think. Ooktook commanded respect but never did she try to humiliate the black wolves, she was above this. She considered the great black wolves to be wolves who were possessed of a sickness, and it was the duty of her kind to guide them.

  After a few tense moments, the pack leader resumed a stance indicating acceptance of the Ooktook’s status. We kill for you.

  Then the black wolves turned and loped in the opposite direction, toward the approaching evil upright walkers who the black wolves could now sense. The four black wolves closed in together, making a diamond shape with the pack leader in front. As the scent grew stronger the black wolves picked up speed, out pacing their timber wolf counterparts who were fanned out behind them in yet another larger diamond shape formation. Faster and faster they ran, the smells of woodland creatures fleeing in fear wafted into their nostrils. Deer, elk, foxes, squirrels, raccoons, and others all hastily avoiding the blood-rage of the black wolves. As the pack leader neared her prey, she identified the source of their scent and growled evilly. Former masters!

  The others picked up on this too and silently thanked Ooktook for delivering them to her and allowing her first strike. By the strength of the scent, and her knowledge of these upright walkers, she guessed there to be nearly thirty. And by the way the scents overlapped she correctly guessed them to be walking in to columns.

  The pack leader snarled as she burst from the forest, in an explosion of teeth and fur and flying branches. She leaped from a boulder and into the center of the column. Down she went to the ground with the neck of one of her prey in her mouth, blood spraying everywhere as she tore out her victim’s throat. She dared not let herself taste more of the blood than what her tongue took in at that moment; there was more killing to do. Just as quickly, she leaped from the body of her first victim, leaving him to die, and attacked a second, slashing so fast with her claws and teeth that he didn’t even have time to swing his sword. She noticed that the other three of her pack had each done about as much damage as she, taking down two of the uprights each. Shouts of panic and orders from leaders filled the air as the prey tried to reorganize and face the black wolves. Just as the uprights formed a line the black wolves launched themselves again, while thirty timber wolves rushed from the trees and exploded in a fury of teeth and claws from the opposite flank. In moments it was over. Thirty of the uprights lay dead, the scent of their blood intoxicating the pack leader.