The Last Sea God

by Ashley Capes

  The kitchen door opened and a woman with black hair appeared. She had rosy cheeks and was smiling, but it fell a little when she saw the Ecsoli. It seemed she recognised them, but to Fi, they looked the same as everyone else. They wore similar clothes and maybe their skin was a little darker and maybe their hair was too, more so than she’d first thought and cut shorter above the ears but still...

  “Welcome back to the Silver Scale, Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, Rosai.” He gestured to the Ecsoli. “These are the men I told you about. Would you tell your story? I will translate, and they may have questions.”

  She nodded. When she spoke, her voice was not as friendly anymore. “I have seen a man several times over the last two weeks. He is dressed in the blue cloak of the invaders. He usually stands across from the inn and watches. Sometimes he pours powder in a circle before the inn.” She paused, letting Giovan catch up. “It is not acor,” she added. “I had the Alchemisti confirm it.”

  Even before Giovan finished the Ecsoli were shaking their heads. One man, thin of face, answered.

  “What did he say?” Rosai asked.

  “That he knows of no Ecsoli ceremony or gesture like the one you describe.”

  A second Ecsoli spoke and again, Giovan translated. The conversation was slow and Fi only half-listened to the rest; instead she drifted across the floor to the unlit fireplace. Something glittered within – but not fire; a green light. She leant closer... there it was again! A green wisp, flickering from black ember to ember like a lizard across river stones.

  Fiore.

  She flinched. A voice had whispered in her mind!

  Don’t be frightened. I’m here to help you.

  Fi glanced back at Giovan and the others, still engrossed in their conversation. It didn’t seem they’d heard the voice. Was she imagining it? Imagining the green light too?

  No. They cannot hear me. Only you.

  Was it even safe to answer? She lowered her voice. “Help me how? Who are you?”

  Someone who can help with your singing.

  “Like Lord Abrensi?”

  Yes. Only I know some songs he does not.

  Fi frowned at the flickering green as it grew brighter. Singing always took away part of the sadness since Mother and Father died, new songs would be wonderful... Still, it was all a little strange. “But why me?”

  Because you have great potential, Fiore. You could be very powerful; you could help many people.

  “I do?” It was something Abrensi had already told her, but it was still a little hard to believe.

  Especially coming from a talking green light.

  Yes. I can show you. Just stay with me a moment longer. Focus on the light, Fiore. Only then can I truly help you. Don’t be afraid.

  17. Ain

  Jali squirmed in his arms, wailing and wailing.

  “Don’t fret,” Ain said softly, rocking the baby gently. The little fellow was starting to take on, ever so slowly, the features of his mother it seemed. Same dark eyes. He smiled, despite the shouting.

  Silaj looked up from where she was frying lamb on the stove. She was adding paprika, the smoky scent filling the room. “Let me take him. You can finish up here,” she said as she crossed the room. He handed Jali over and almost immediately the baby stopped crying. Ain sighed as he took up the tongs and turned the meat.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “He’s just fussy.”

  “I know.” Ain glanced out the window. Lately, Jali had become so uneasy in his arms. He couldn’t even get the babe to accept milk. Every time his son was upset, nothing Ain tried made a difference – whereas Silaj soothed him nearly every time. It was as if his son couldn’t bear to be near his father... was it all the time he’d been away while the babe was still in the womb?

  “Try not to look so downcast,” Silaj said. “He’s still so young. One day, you’ll be the most important thing in his life.”

  “Mmmm.”

  She set Jali in his crib then wrapped her arms around Ain, resting her cheek against his back. “Trust me.”

  “I do.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded flat.

  She squeezed him. “Is that all that troubles you?”

  “It troubles me plenty but so do these walkers.”

  “I know. You want to stop them.”

  “If I protect the Cloud, I protect you and Jali too.”

  “Can they be stopped? The women are saying that they are unstoppable corpses, like the darklings but of flesh.”

  He turned the lamb again, meat sizzling. “They do not seem as bloodthirsty.” He hesitated.

  “But?”

  “But we cannot feel them on the paths; they are silent. They bring with them a sandstorm – or at least, the others did.”

  “You will find a way, you always do. I believe in you.”

  He exhaled and some of the tension slid away. “I love you.”

  “And I you,” Silaj said. “Let’s eat, forget about all that for the moment.”

  After the meal he rejoined the council in Raila’s home, squeezed in around her small table. The sweet scent of marjoram tea filled the room; had she bothered to eat? It seemed she’d only stopped to meditate on the problem.

  “This will be brief, as I want you to work immediately. I believe our course of action must be as follows. Jedda, you will lead Majid, Palan and three of our best warriors after the walkers. Do not engage unless you must, we need information. Where do they lie, their number, who controls them. The rest of us will stay here and continue to fortify the Cloud.”

  Ain met Majid’s eyes. It was clear why she’d chosen him; he was the better warrior. And the walkers did seem to be vulnerable to brute strength. When Raila sent everyone to their tasks Ain lingered.

  “Elder?”

  “Ain, I know what you will say. But this time, you can do more good here. You have Pathfinders still to train and we must devise a way to hide the bones. Should darklings come again – something we must not rule out simply because a new threat appears – I want you here.”

  “Apprentice-Taod is more than capable, Elder. The others are not so far behind.”

  She smiled. “Be that as it may, you are the hero. People will rally around you if we are attacked. That is not something I would overlook.”

  “I understand.” He knelt before leaving.

  Majid was waiting beneath the bright sun, his expression one of understanding. “I would take you with me. You know that.”

  Ain rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I do. And I understand her choice. Be careful out there.”

  “Only if you look after things here.” He turned for his own home.

  Ain glanced to the far end of the square, to the pair of spreading olive trees that flanked the entry to the ‘stronghold’ as the squat building was called. At times it had housed criminals, visiting clan members and even more rarely, Elders themselves but now it concealed the two or three ribs that had actually reached the Cloud.

  Enough for dozens of Greatmasks, but useless in their present form. Pitiful that the very thing the walking corpses would come for, in the right form, was likely the only thing capable of stopping them. How to prevent even that much bone being stolen? To protect the people who would be asked to protect the bones?

  Ade stood watch on the stronghold’s door, her arms crossed and her bow resting against the stone beside her.

  “Pathfinder,” she greeted him, speaking softly. She was older than Silaj but not so old as Raila, known in the Cloud as strong and fast, a steady shot. A fine choice for guard, but she’d have others helping soon enough, no doubt.

  “Ade. You’ve heard about the walkers.”

  She nodded.

  “I’d like to see the bone; we have to figure out a way to protect it if the walkers come again.”

  “Of course.” She took a key, unlocked the door and admitted them to the stronghold. Cells lined the opposite wall, a guardroom set nearby. The first had been stacked high with worn lengths of
rib, cut to smaller pieces. Some still bore the markings of scratched names, those Ain had seen when he’d started his quest as Seeker.

  “Here they are, then.”

  “Quite a sight,” he said.

  “So they tell us,” Ade replied. “Haven’t seen them do anything myself; they’re just bones.”

  “Until they’re not – but I know what you mean,” he said. They did look innocuous indeed.

  “Surely this is the safest place in the Cloud, Pathfinder?”

  He nodded. “And how do we make it safer?”

  “Ain?” A third voice spoke from the doorway. Wayrn stood waiting. He did not react to Ade, who bristled at the sight of him, instead waiting for Ain to wave him inside before entering.

  “Any ideas?” the envoy asked.

  “None.” Ain shrugged. “Save sealing up the cell, I suppose.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Wayrn said. “It will slow them at the very least – they were tireless but they didn’t strike me as creatures able to shatter stone.”

  Ade leant against the wall. “You’re both thinking about this the wrong way. Attack is the best defence, everyone knows that.”

  “So we need a way to kill the dead?” Ain asked.

  She frowned at him. “Yes.”

  “Or at least stop them,” Wayrn said. “What’s the one thing we know for sure, about the walkers? Aside from their state of living-death.”

  “That plants somehow fuel or direct them,” Ain said.

  “Right. And how do you stop a plant growing?”

  “Tear it out at the roots,” Ade said. “Then salt the earth after.”

  Ain scratched at his head. “Would salt be enough – I mean, that takes time with normal plants.”

  “Let’s find some salt,” Wayrn said. “Test it on the body.”

  “Right.” Ain dashed from the building and across the square to Emasi’s stall, where he borrowed a small pouch then joined Wayrn at the body, where it still rested before Raila’s house. There, Ain sprinkled salt across the corpse’s eyes. “I don’t think this will work, Wayrn. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?”

  “Let’s see.”

  Ain watched. The cactus did not react. He sighed as he stood, only to crouch once more.

  Something was happening. The plant had started to shrivel like a slug. The salt seared it down to a shrivelled black nub, spines falling away. “An unnatural response,” he said.

  “To an unnatural creature,” Wayrn replied.

  Ain was nodding as he stared at the thing. “This could work. How can we use it on a large scale?” There was more than enough salt available, with the not-too-distant rock-salt plains, but that wasn’t enough by itself. He could hardly charge the walkers and hurl handfuls of salt at them.

  Wayrn was smiling. “I’ve already thought of that.”

  Ain laughed. Maybe there was a way for him to protect the Cloud after all, even if he couldn’t be part of retrieving the bones. “Aren’t you clever, then. How?”

  “What’s the quickest way to get the most amount of salt onto the highest number of walkers?”

  “Wind. Throw it into the storm.”

  Wayrn chuckled. “That’s quicker than I was thinking, actually, but not quite right, I think, since we can’t control the wind.”

  “Very well. What was your idea?”

  “On the ground. We cover the ground before the stronghold with salt. They’ll walk right over it without a moment’s hesitation – you saw them, they don’t like to stop for anything.”

  “True.”

  “And if we rough up the ground before the salt, make it jagged somehow, the creatures will cut and scrape and tear their own feet before they reach the salt. We won’t have to do anything except collect the salt then drag away the bodies.”

  Ain slapped Wayrn on the back. “You might have solved the problem before it happens.”

  “Let’s hope so, but it’s only a plan at this stage,” he said. “Things always change when you actually get out there on the ground.”

  18. Notch

  The old language washed over the rails; unfamiliar words leaping out at Notch, while the words and phrases Alosus had taught him over the course of their long sea voyage were mostly familiar. Somewhere, a woman asked for directions to the Pale Maiden. Other voices brimmed with curiosity – did they stare at the Hawk? Two men argued over... something, was it birds? Their rough voices blended with laughter from another ship, then competed with the gulls overhead.

  But it was the words of the blue cloaks that lined the Hawk’s decks that Notch focused on now.

  They bore their usual bone masks, pale shapes covering their faces, eye-holes dark. Many wore bone gloves and beneath one open cloak, a breastplate of bone, carven with the image of a shark. The sense of power bore down on his very shoulders, his mind; an oppressive presence with its own vague sentience. It would take little but a single thought, a single command for any of them to snap his own bones.

  Notch gave no reason.

  He simply stood and listened, having pushed his sleeves down earlier, finding himself holding his breath while Alosus spoke to the leader and Marlosi watched on with a frown.

  The conversation had started out simply enough – orders to throw down weapons and the demanding of answers. Alosus had introduced himself not as a prince as he told Melosi, but as a ‘free Gigansi’ on a trade ship, bearing news from Anaskar for the Royal Children. A gamble, if ever Notch had heard one – and not exactly as they’d planned but perhaps the right move. The conversation slipped away from him when they began to speak too quickly. If only they’d slow down!

  From that point, Notch caught only occasional words; ‘princess’ several times and ‘lying’ once. Vinezi and Marinus were mentioned also, the leader of the Ecsoli soon folding his arms. His voice contained equal parts doubt and challenge, depending on Alosus’ responses.

  Finally, the Ecsoli snapped his fingers, gave final orders and strode back across the gangway. His men he left behind.

  “What is happening?” Melosi asked. He spun to Notch. “If you’ve lured me into some fool’s errand after all, you know I’ll have your guts on a plate, Notch.”

  “No need for that,” Alosus said. “The soldier is fetching a superior. We are to remain here until he returns.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I convince the captain, or whoever comes, that you should be traded with and that Notch and I be allowed on our way.”

  “That one seemed a little unsure.” Notch stared after the man as he weaved through the crowded dock. “How will you fare with the next one?”

  “Better,” Alosus said. Again, Notch wasn’t sure whether to take comfort from the man’s confidence or let worry settle more.

  An uneasy silence fell over the Hawk.

  When a new figure finally appeared, Notch exhaled and stretched his shoulders. The original Ecsoli leader now trailed a heavyset man wearing no mask. His head was shaven so close that not a single hair appeared. He was frowning as he walked, rich purple robes fluttering around his legs. Once aboard, he waved to Alosus with a hand gloved in white.

  “This is he?” he asked, and Notch followed better. The fellow had an odd drawl that actually made him easier to understand.

  The Ecsoli soldier nodded.

  Alosus stepped forward and delivered a speech, that while not short exactly, did not take as long as Notch expected. He followed well enough; Alosus would only reveal news to the royal children or the king personally. In exchange, Alosus expected that Melosi would be free to trade and to leave – and further, that Alosus would be free to pursue his own goals and that Captain Medoro, War-Hero of Anaskar, be given a chance to speak with the ‘Library of Souls’.

  “You ask for much.” The man in purple offered a smile. “It is clear by this ship and its sailors, by your knowledge of events in the New Land that you bear further investigation at the very least. You and he will come with me, where you will be taken to the palace at dawn. In
the meantime, no-one from this ship sets foot on land. No attempts will be made to leave.”

  “Understood, Inquisitor,” Alosus said.

  The Inquisitor turned to the blue cloaks. “A silver stalweight from my own purse for any lawful execution of these orders.”

  The Ecsoli straightened at this and Notch nearly reached for his father’s blade. But no-one seemed inclined to force Melosi’s men to stay put; there was simply an additional vigilance to them. Alosus took Notch and Melosi aside while the Inquisitor tapped his foot. “Things are going well,” Alosus told the captain.

  “Is that so? What’s the purple one saying then?”

  “That Notch and I are to see the king and that no-one can leave the ship. It is favourable,” Alosus added when Melosi narrowed his eyes. “If they had any true concerns about us, the Hawk would already be kindling floating in the harbour.”

  “Then I’m expecting you both to return.”

  Alosus nodded. “Prepare your wares, but do not attempt to leave or head ashore – you can trust me still, Captain. We may not return swiftly but we will return.”

  “Come now,” the Inquisitor said, impatience clear in his voice as he turned for the gangway.

  Notch followed Alosus, glancing back at Melosi. The captain was stroking his beard as he frowned. The man had no choice – nor did Notch – he had to trust Alosus would deliver on his promise.

  Beyond the gangway, the docks were as busy as the voices suggested – mostly sailors disembarking, or dock workers cursing beneath heavy loads of crates and bolts of cloth. Not so different from home. Yet there was something amiss – the way people glanced at each other askance. As if... to check on the progress of their fellows. But why? Was it some manner of jealousy?

  When he asked Alosus about it, the man answered softly. “No. Here it is more a case that if one man realises his fellow has unloaded more boxes than he, then that man may not receive a bonus from his captain. More, if he unloads the least, or performs similarly poorly in some capacity, he will have a portion of his pay withheld.”