A Tide of Shadows

by Tom Bielawski

12

  Tensions Mount.

  Attacked!

  Boredom was setting in. They had been under the sea for two days and it was getting cold. The sun’s warmth and light could not penetrate the inky blackness so far below the surface. Carym found that he needed to wear his coat over the top of his long sleeved shirt to ward off the dampness and the chill. The air had a sticky, clammy feel to it, and Yag warned of the ease of spreading illness with no ocean breezes to air out the ship.

  By and large the crew had little to do now as the operation of the ship was conducted almost exclusively by Yag and his wizard, Visare. The crewmen took turns standing watch in all corners of the ship, ready to report the slightest sound, or leak. The most important function of the watch was actually reporting any sightings of Rock Sharks or whales, as these could potentially damage the ship and there was no mechanism to defend against them, except flight. The officers held daily inspections, and forced the senior crewmen to conduct reaction drills to various circumstances. And, as long as the other work was complete, the literate shipmates gave reading lessons to the illiterate ones.

  The passengers had no such distractions to occupy themselves with, however. Zach spent most of his time studying the documents given him at the Widow, and reading maps of the surface. Beyond that, the man spent a large part of his time staring out the window into the soft green glow of the water. Being under the surface of the sea was causing Zach no small amount of stress. Traveling under the sea came with a few tediums, not the least of which was that it was a really noisy affair. Yag had explained that the great pressures of the sea were constantly pushing and squeezing the ship, causing a continual groaning and creaking among the beams and planks. Paranoid fears of springing a leak plagued Zach’s waking moments, even with Yag’s reassurances that the magical gel held the ship snugly together and was, almost, impervious to leaks and fissures; Carym and Zach both hoped that was true. When Zach wasn’t reading, he and Carym spent many hours playing card games to relieve the monotony.

  It was hard to keep track of time below the sea, and Carym found his internal clock seemed to be off without the sun to guide it. After waking up to what he guessed was their third day at sea, Carym was getting restless. He couldn’t understand why he was so restless, having been a seasoned sailor in the Arnatahian Navy. But he was exactly that, restless. He felt an urgency to reach the corridors leading to Uta Milla, but couldn’t place why; probably the need to breath air that wasn’t magically recirculated. According to what Yag told them of the remarkable speed of this ship, they should have reached the tunnels leading to ancient Uta Milla by now.

  He lay in his bunk for a long time, looking at the mesmerizing glow of the green gel around the porthole, listening to the creaking and groaning of the ship. Feeling guilty for not telling his friend what he had learned from Dryume about the Everpool and the Tome of Sigils. They had few discussions at all, in fact, since boarding the ship. Carym was certain the cause of their sparse discourse was his own attraction to Gennevera and Zach’s own prejudice towards anyone who was not decidedly human. It bothered him. His lifelong friend couldn’t see far enough past his own shortcomings to be happy for him. In truth, Carym realized, he kept the secret of the Tome of Sigils form Zach for precisely that reason. He was just plain mad at his friend.

  Carym finally decided to crawl from his upper bunk and dropped lightly to the wooden deck. The air was cold and he was loathe to leave his warm blankets behind, the floor was colder still. Carym quickly donned socks, boots, and his black coat. As he slipped the pouch of stones into his pocket, he felt an intense desire to grasp the stones in his hand. Giving in to the temptation, he reached into the pouch, grasped a stone, and held it aloft; it was the blue stone. He closed his fist over the stone and closed his eyes at the same time. His mind was immediately assaulted by a powerful presence, clawing, grasping, reaching into his head. He relaxed his mind, and found that he was filled with a cool sensation, not entirely unpleasant. It felt to him as though tendrils of water were lapping at his body, and he was shifting slightly, responding to the give and take of an unseen wave.

  Water? The sensation of being in the water was so real, for a moment he panicked and opened his eyes. His mind was assaulted by what he knew was not logical. He appeared to be seeing through a haze of water, as though he were swimming underwater in one of the lakes back home and had opened his eyes. He felt dry and wet at once, and the disorienting push and pull of the waves were beginning to take their toll on his mind. What is happening?

  He quickly shoved the blue stone into his pouch. As he released the stone and removed his hand the sensation of leaving the water passed over his body and he became very dizzy. Dropping to one knee to catch his breath he glanced over at Zach’s bunk; sleeping. He stood, slowly, and tried to shake the dizziness from his head, his vision blurred and dimmed and, for a moment he felt as though he were going to faint.

  Finally his vision returned to normal and he vowed not to do that again. Whatever that was. But now he was sure the stones were causing his restlessness, and he wondered what else they could do; and if he would have been better off without them. That thought caused another surge of energy from the stones, and his hand was nowhere near them!

  Carym left his friend to his rest and went to Gennevera’s cabin to see if she was awake. He knocked very gently with the handle of his knife, and waited several moments outside the door. Hearing nothing, he assumed she was asleep too and decided to walk to the galley and see what was being served for breakfast. He made his way down the passageways, climbing up and then down some very tight ladders until he found the officers’ galley.

  He opened the hatch, stepped over the lip, and entered the large but dimly lit room. A number of Yag’s officers were seated in various places among the few tables. Instead of chairs, the men sat on long benches that were fastened to the tables which were secured to the deck. Breakfast was an array of eggs, ham, and biscuits, placed in metal trays and sitting in fitted slots on one of the tables. He removed a metal plate from a drawer by the breakfast counter and helped himself to some runny eggs which looked suspiciously green although that could have been from the glow of the green gel, some chewy ham, and a hard biscuit. Some things never change, he thought, remembering his own experiences aboard naval ships, and not fondly. He sat at the table where Yag’s top officers were seated, eating and happily discussing crew progress in certain tasks. He sat next to Commander Wellson, Lieutenants Hyrnby and Mathys were across from him.

  “Good morning, Commander,” said Carym, being certain to address the highest rank first, then nodded to each of the junior officers present. He was answered with a laugh, the big man shook his head ruefully. Carym wondered if privateers followed the near-universal customs and courtesies of the sea as did the Arnathian Navy and other navies of the world. Had he done something wrong?

  “Good morning, sir,” replied the big commander, his voice as strong and deep as he was big. A Western Volan by his dark skin and his accent, mused Carym, still uncertain about the man’s humor. The big Volan was barrel chested and had arms with muscles like banded steel. “Enjoying your trip so far, sir?”

  “A bit bored, really.”

  “Aye, it’s like that for you passenger types then. Well, we keep the men busy which keeps us busy!” said the officer, taking a bite of a baked potato. Carym wondered how the chef managed to cook anything, with no outlet for air to escape. And where was their breathing air coming from? He found that he enjoyed the company of these men, so much like himself when he was a young sailor. They talked about things that sailors always talk about: work, home, women, families, and the next port-of-call. He had even learned that there were a number of women being harbored on the ship; prostitutes most likely. It was a custom known to occur on many ships whether merchant, pirate, or even naval ships. In most cases the women were better treated and better paid than their dry land counterparts. In fact, the Royal Sea Ladies Guild was one of the most powerful of the illicit g
uilds that helped govern Dockyard City.

  The drama of the ship unfolded itself in the speech of the young officers, combat veterans each of them. Soon Carym knew all about the structure of the command and the political rivalries among the officers and even the men; it wasn’t unheard of for Yag to promote a crewman to an officer’s rank and demote an officer to the crew when the occasion called for it. And, with a ship requiring nearly two-hundred men to crew it while it remained on the surface, there was plenty of room for political maneuvering.

  Finally, Carym bid each man a “g’day,” which was the proper way to say hello or goodbye in the nearly universal language of the seas. Even among naval forces and merchant fleets of different countries, the Naval Brogue was the most common language used among sailors. Being a diverse and well-traveled lot, it was only natural that common language would be used to communicate among the many races and cultures of the seas.

  After leaving the galley, Carym decided to pay a visit to Yag and see what the bridge of this wonderful ship looked like now that they were miles below the surface. He thought about leaving his surly friend behind, but decided that dragging Zach out of his cabin might improve his mood.

  “Fine, might as well,” said Zach in a clearly disinterested tone, rubbing his watery and tired eyes. With a shrug as he walked past his friend and into the passageway, Carym followed glancing wistfully at Gennevera’s cabin; best to let her and Zach have their space. At the end of the passageway, Zach lifted the large handle and opened the hatch leading to the next passageway. They continued on to a ladder at the far end. Zach scurried up with Carym right behind, still moving in silence. He wanted to talk to his old friend, to find out why he so deeply despised the Keneerie, to make him see that he was wrong. But he couldn’t find the words, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. Why was Zach so cold, so full of hate? Carym sighed as he reached the top of the ladder and walked to the hatch with the word “Bridge,” painted on it.

  On either side of the hatch were two of Yag’s Roughneck sentries. Roughnecks was the name of a maritime mercenary company comprised of veteran Marines and battle tested sailors, or “roughnecks” as they were commonly called. Yag owned the mercenary company and made a tidy profit from their duties aboard the vessels of merchant companies around the Northern and Arnathian Continents. Each man wore a blue high-neck coat with a stiff leather collar and the crossed sword emblem on their breast; each carried two short swords sheathed crisscross on their backs. Their trousers were gray with a wide black stripe on the legs and their boots were brightly polished. One wore sergeant’s chevrons on his left sleeve, his face scarred from battle and his left eye white. The other was a corporal, and though he was less scarred than his superior, his face was framed by a myriad of tattoos, twisting like vines around his eyes, nose, and cheeks. Neither of the two said a word, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the men.

  “We are here to see the Captain,” said Zach, advancing toward the hatch. But the sentries would have none of it. In perfect unison, and with no verbal communication at all, the men neatly sidestepped toward each other, effectively barring the way onto the bridge. Zach peered at Carym and raised an eyebrow. Carym shook his head; best not to cause a stir.

  “Fine,” muttered Zach as he stepped back and away from the hatch. Then, in one quick movement the men sidestepped away from each other and resumed their position flanking the hatch.

  “Sergeant, we request permission to enter the bridge,” said Carym with firm military formality. With his left arm, the sergeant drew a dagger from his left side and rapped the hilt on the hatch three times, then with perfect military precision he snapped his dagger into its scabbard and dropped his hands back to his sides.

  Within moments, the hatch opened and the sergeant said, “Permission granted, sir!”

  The men stepped over the lip at the bottom of the hatch and entered the bridge. It was an amazing but somewhat surprising sight. Carym expected all manner of officers and men to be scurrying about, pouring over charts, lifting levers and shouting orders into metal tubes. But this bridge was nothing of the sort. In fact it was much like what he expected the throne room of a lord who ruled a sea-faring people might look like. Shiny brass telescopes were mounted on one wall along with a sextant, a compass, and other navigational instruments; for decoration only. The floor was covered with red and gold Karbander rugs depicting images of ships and great sea monsters. An artistic rendition of a map of the Brythyn Sea and its surrounding lands adorned the back wall to their right. And to the left, the front of the bridge was a large rectangular window. Seated before that window in a great throne-like chair was Visare, each hand gripping a lever topped by a large crystal ball. And to his side stood the captain.

  “What can I do for you two?” said the captain, eying them suspiciously for a moment, chewing on a wad of tobacco. Carym flinched in disgust as he realized that Yag did not use a spittoon.

  “Three,” muttered the wizard dully as footsteps sounded in the passageway outside the hatch. Carym turned and looking through the open hatch, saw Gennevera gliding down the passageway where she stopped before the sentries. Then, she stepped onto the bridge and stood next to the two men. Zach moved away and walked up to the large window, staring at the floating debris in the water, ignoring the new arrival. Carym fought down a sudden urge to go to her, his heart skipping a beat. Then, he looked away hoping to hide his excitement from her knowing stare.

  “Aye, three it is. And the question stands.”

  “How does all this work?” asked Carym as Gennevera glided up to his side, holding his arm, smiling warmly and sending a thrill through him. The captain chewed his tobacco noisily for a moment, gulped down a mouthful a tobacco juice, then walked to the large window beside Zach.

  Finally he said, “There is a vast network of tunnels and caverns that connect the oceans and all the great lakes of Llars far below the surface of the world. They are ancient and dark, but they are as well marked as any Arnathian Imperial Highway on the surface, if you know how to look. The ancient Uta Millans possessed great magic, great technology, and great wealth. But their vast empire became fragmented, as all empires must eventually do, and it fell. Many of the most civilized and learned surface men know very little of the great Uta Millan society, and even less about how they travelled.”

  “The Uta Millan merchants were able to bring their wares anywhere in the world with great speed. Much greater than the primitive surface dwellers could ever hope to achieve. They mapped the entire tunnel network with amazing accuracy and created a system of tunnel markings. If you learn their system you can tell which tunnel you are in, where the tunnel begins and ends, how far it is to the next destination, and how far behind the previous destination. The ancient wizards devised a spell which creates a layer of gel over a hull, protecting it from the incredible weight of the deep waters, making any ship airtight. The gel gives a wizard a special sense of the ship. A piloting wizard is in tune with every plank, every beam, every screw and bolt holding this ship together and it will instantly alert him to any problems. The wizard must also guard the ship and defend it against attacks from sea beasts. Only the most powerful wizards, like our Visare, can manage the great stress of piloting a ship thusly.”

  “So what have you learned of their downfall? What caused it?” asked Zach, his curiosity piqued.

  “Greed, avarice....who knows?” muttered the old captain, apparently not interested in that subject. “What does that matter, anyway?”

  “I supposed it doesn’t,” agreed Zach. “Have the other dwellers of the Underllars managed to find these ancient cities and steal all of their glorious wealth?” asked Zach. Yag eyed him carefully before he responded.

  “Some have, indeed. But the lands of Uta Milla are far from the lands of the other civilizations of the Underllars, farther still when traveling by foot.” He paused, and appeared to be considering what to say next. Finally, he just stared out the main viewing window and said nothing more.

  “Th
is is a closely guarded secret!” the wizard said sternly, not bothering to hide his ire. “It is crucial that the Arnathian Empire does not discover these tunnels or how to use them. Our numbers are small, less than a dozen pilots exist who can navigate these tunnels, we are still exploring them and measuring the accuracy of our charts. Many of these tunnels are dangerously unstable and some have collapsed, sealing off entire areas of the empire.”

  “And yet, we have found a few ways around the collapsed tunnels. We have even found the legendary city of Dalcasia!”

  “Captain! Why must you-”

  “Stow it wizard! They are oath-sworn to keep their secret. Besides, I’m sure they understand that breaking their oath will result in the infliction of a very nasty curse...” Yag cast the group a knowing look and returned to staring out at the green tunnel before him. Carym wasn’t fooled, threatening curses may have worked on uneducated crewmen, but Carym had been an officer before and knew the games. Carym had heard stories of Dalcasia, the legendary capital city of Uta Milla, but never believed them. He wasn’t sure he believed them now. But, he reminded himself, he was on a ship sailing under the sea on a journey to seek a pool of enchanted water hidden in the tomb of a dead, and very evil, knight. He smiled wryly.

  “You may be certain of our trust, Captain. After the Arnathians razed our village, I will not rest until I have visited the same fate upon an Arnathian Encampment!” Zach surprised Carym with that outburst. His old friend had become so unpredictable, so unlike his old self, that Carym simply didn’t know what to make of him anymore. Gennevera lowered her hood and gazed at Carym for a moment, before casting a distrustful glance at Zach.

  “This is all so fascinating,” she said to Carym, her gaze excited. It occurred to him then that he hadn’t asked her where she was going. He thought on that a moment, then put it to rest. He would not pry.

  “These Uta Millans were skilled miners and stonemasons, I understand,” replied Carym.