Storms of Destiny

by A. C. Crispin

  Thia stood on the deck, wondering how soon one of the Chonao guards would spot her and kill her. The tumult over Master Khith’s explosion was dying down. There wasn’t as much smoke streaming out of the hole in the Pride’s side, and the loud clanging as the cannons rolled around belowdecks had stopped.

  She’d seen Talis leap off the ship, and Khith, too. She knew that was the plan, but couldn’t make herself jump, no matter how hard she tried. She had never learned to swim, and the green-blue depths surrounding the vessel frightened her beyond reason.

  She wondered what the others would think when she didn’t join them. Master Khith said they could reach one of those floating islands of seaweed not too far away. If only she could make herself jump!

  She took a hesitant step closer to the railing, then halted. I can’t. I just can’t.

  As she stood hesitating, shielding her eyes from the sun, trying to spot her friends in the water, Thia heard the drum of hoofbeats. She looked up to see Falar bolting toward her at what seemed a full gallop.

  She tried to throw herself aside, but as the mare swooped past, an invisible hand grabbed the back of her dress, jerking her off her feet. Thia emitted one short-lived scream as she was dragged up across the horse, then the mare launched herself—straight over the railing.

  They were falling, falling …

  Time seemed to stop, then rushed past at a speed even more dizzying than the horse’s. Equine and passengers hit the water with a tremendous splash.

  The water was cold and salty—it seemed to shock her entire body like a bolt of lightning. Thia threw up her hands as she felt herself plunging down, down. Her skirts weighed her down, pulling her ever deeper, until she was lost in the cold, wet darkness. She opened her eyes, felt seawater sting them, but couldn’t see anything except silvery bubbles and dark green water.

  Soon she would have to breathe, and it would all be over.

  She hung there, weightless, suspended in time and water.

  If not for the increasing need to breathe, the pressure in her chest, the sensation might have been pleasant.

  Then something grabbed her hair and yanked her upward.

  Thia’s head broke the surface, coughing and choking, too ecstatic at having real air to breathe to even notice her rescuer for a moment. Blinking water out of her eyes, she gasped. “Jezzil!”

  “At your service,” he said, grinning at her. She’d never seen him smile so widely, look so carefree. He was holding her up on the surface seemingly without effort, moving his legs and one arm lazily.

  “You saved me,” she said stupidly.

  “I was just repaying the favor,” he replied. “That was quite a show you put on. I don’t imagine that Kerezau has seen too many like it.”

  Despite her situation, Thia managed a weak laugh. “I was surprised how much I enjoyed myself,” she admitted. “But, Jezzil, what now? I can’t swim.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll lighten you a bit, get rid of some of those skirts, then Falar can tow you.”

  “How will you—” She broke off as he held up a knife.

  “How did you—” But he was already gone, slipping under the surface as smoothly as a sea creature in one of the ancient texts she’d copied.

  She let out a squawk of protest as she began to sink, but then she felt his grasp, supporting her from beneath. There were tugs at her skirt and petticoats. A final, hard tug and the petticoats were gone altogether. Jezzil surfaced. “One more time,” he said, gasping in a huge breath.

  Moments later she realized that about half of her skirt was gone. Her legs from the knee down were unencumbered.

  Jezzil bobbed up again. “And now to regroup,” he said.

  Quickly, he towed her over to Falar, who had been swimming back and forth beside them. “You’re going to hold her mane,”

  he said, “and kick your legs. Keep kicking, or you might sink and she might strike you with her hooves. Understand?”

  Thia managed to nod, then grasped the mare’s soaked, coarse mane with both hands. She began kicking.

  Effortlessly, Falar towed her through the water. It took only moments before they reached Khith. The little Hthras leaned on its medicine bag, which was floating very well indeed.

  “Ahoy!” Jezzil called out as they approached. “Master Khith! Where are Eregard and Talis?”

  Khith shook its head. Its fur was slick as a sea lion’s, plas-tered against its head. “I know not, Jezzil,” it said. “When Talis did not join us, Eregard went to look for her. She jumped into the sea on the wrong side of the ship.” It lifted an arm to point. “Our destination lies that way.”

  Thia narrowed her eyes and could barely make out a line on the horizon.

  Jezzil was looking back at the Pride. They had drifted a little way from the ship, and Thia could see the concern on his face. “Perhaps I should go look for them,” the Chonao said.

  “I am concerned,” Khith admitted. “But let us wait a few more minutes.”

  They waited … and waited.

  Jezzil spent his time teaching Thia to tread water, as he termed it. It was a relief to no longer have to depend on an outside source to keep her from sinking.

  All the while she was occupied, however, Thia felt her fear building. Where were Talis and Eregard?

  Eregard was swimming. It had been a long time since he’d been in the water, but as a boy growing up on an island, he’d learned to swim as well as the rest of the Pelanese children, and better than many. Swimming was the one thing he’d been able to beat Salesin at, and the first time he had, Salesin refused to compete with his younger brother anymore.

  His long strokes and rhythmic kicks carried him alongside the Pride quickly and nearly effortlessly. His work on the plantations had hardened him, made him much stronger, and that paid off now.

  Where is Talis? he wondered, pausing to tread water and look around. This is close to the spot where she jumped overboard.

  He scanned the water’s surface over and over, and finally saw her. She was swimming in the wrong direction, and, from her movements, nearing the end of her strength.

  Eregard swam after her. He was afraid to call her name loudly; they were still within arrow range of the ship. In all the confusion, no one had seemed to take much note of their departures, but there was no point in calling attention to themselves.

  Talis’s strokes were slow now, leaden. It was plain she was exhausted. No wonder, Eregard thought. All that sword-fighting, then having to swim for it. He knew how easily a swimmer could become disoriented and swim in the wrong direction. Talis must have been swimming alongside the Pride for half an hour; an inordinate distance for a novice swimmer.

  Just as he came within hailing distance of her, Talis’s strokes shortened even more, then degenerated into aimless thrashing. He could hear her struggling to breathe, then she swallowed water and went under. She surfaced again a moment later, but all pretext of swimming was gone. She was fighting to stay on the surface, with little success.

  Eregard paused. A panic-stricken, exhausted swimmer was the most dangerous variety. He called softly, “Talis!

  Talis, I’m here. I’ll help you. Take it easy.”

  She didn’t hear him. Lost in her struggle to breathe, she fought the water.

  Eregard steeled himself, then went toward her. He could tell that she didn’t recognize him, only saw him as something to climb up on so she could keep breathing. She lunged at him, grabbing, trying to climb atop him.

  Eregard felt a surge of fear before he remembered the old guardsman who had taught him to swim. “If they sees yeh as nothin’ but a rock t’climb on, give ’em a duckin’. Works ever’ time.”

  He raised his arms and took them both under. The moment Talis felt the water close over her head, she let go of him and began trying to reach the surface again.

  Eregard came back up with a rush, and then, as she threw herself at him again, raised his fist.

  Talis’s trajectory took her straight int
o it; she went limp.

  Eregard wrapped one hand in her long hair, streaming out around her like the tresses of the fabled Sea Maidens that would follow ships, crying and wailing for sailors to take them as their wives.

  He began swimming again, a resting stroke on his side, stroke and kick, then glide, heading around the Pride toward the others. He’d been swimming for several minutes when he heard her voice. “Eregard?”

  He stopped, treaded water, and tentatively let go of her hair. “Yes, mistress?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at him. “I don’t even know what happened. I lost my head. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “I know, mistress,” he said. “It’s all right. Happens to even good swimmers sometimes.”

  “I thought I could swim well, but I learned in the fish-pond,” she said ruefully, brushing a long strand of hair off her face. “I was never in the sea before. It’s so big. And so deep.”

  “Yes, mistress, it is,” Eregard said.

  Talis made a face. “Goddess smite you, stop calling me that!”

  Eregard fought not to smile. “Very well, mis—” He trailed off, then grinned. “My apologies.”

  Talis grinned back ruefully. “From now on it’s just Talis. I think I can swim a bit now.”

  “We’ll go together, then,” he promised.

  Something flashed into the water between them, then another streaking shape fell short. Eregard beckoned to Talis.

  “Arrows! Swim with me!”

  They headed out, away from the ship and the small crowd of crossbow-carrying Chonao that lined the railing.

  As they swam, Eregard coached Talis, and when she tired, he towed her until she regained her strength. Seeing that they were out of range, the Chonao quickly lost interest.

  By the time they reached the others, they’d nearly been given up for dead. The little group began swimming, with Thia and Talis clinging to Falar’s mane and kicking, one on each side. They swam for nearly an hour, taking breaks to rest, and then suddenly the seaweed island that Khith had spotted with the borrowed eyes of a seabird was directly in front of them.

  Khith, who was the lightest, was the first one up onto the mat of seaweed. Thia and Talis followed. Despite their exhaustion, they moved as briskly as they could, gathering driftwood to reinforce the seaweed, so Falar would be able to find purchase.

  By late afternoon all five, plus Falar, were perched on the dubious safety of the seaweed island. They could move around, except for Falar, whose hooves were so sharp she tended to cut through the interwoven, matted growth. Jezzil made the mare hunker down with her legs folded beneath her, then brought her handfuls of the most succulent seaweed to eat.

  The rest of the group simply sat, half dozing, trying to regain their strength.

  Finally, Eregard sat up straight and looked around. All sight of the Pride had vanished. They were alone, with no land nearby for many leagues in any direction. They had almost no food or water, no warm clothing, and no prospect of rescue.

  “There’s an old Pelanese phrase,” he said, “something about ‘out of the kettle and into the coals.’ Seems to me that applies now, doesn’t it?”

  Four faces turned to him. He smiled wryly. “So, what now, my friends?”

  Seaweed and Sea Serpents

  “What now, indeed?” Khith asked, echoing Eregard’s question. The Hthras gazed at its companions, thinking that they were hardly a prepossessing lot, though their long swim had rendered Jezzil, Thia, and Eregard considerably cleaner and more pleasant to be near. “Now we must think about ways to signal for rescue. We are in a well-traveled shipping lane.

  Surely a ship will happen by within the next few days.”

  “Next few days?” Jezzil looked down at the handful of seaweed he had wrung out and was feeding to Falar. “What are we going to do about food and water? Eat this stuff?”

  “If animals eat it, we can, too,” Talis pointed out. “Maybe if we pick it and dry it in the Sun it won’t be so slimy.”

  Khith shifted on the piece of driftwood, easing away from a splinter. The board was uncomfortable, but better than sitting on the wet seaweed. “We can remove extraneous articles of clothing and spread them to catch the dew. We can get a little moisture that way.”

  Jezzil nodded. “Yes, and we’ll need to gather more driftwood to sleep on.”

  “Indeed,” Khith agreed. “It makes a hard bed, but better that than the dampness.”

  “We can eat the seaweed?” Thia asked, holding up a tuft.

  She grimaced. “It smells awful. Like rotting fish.”

  Khith nodded. “Yes, we can eat the seaweed. There are also …” It hesitated, staring intently down at the dark gray-green mat of vegetation at its feet. “… kelp grubs!” The Hthras’s slender digited hand flashed down, to emerge with a small white creature that wriggled.

  Popping the grub into its mouth, Khith chewed and swallowed. “Eminently edible,” it announced.

  Thia shook her head, her pale features even paler than usual. “I don’t think I can,” she announced. “I’m sorry. I’d rather go hungry.”

  Khith waved a hand. “You may feel different tomorrow, my dear. It is certainly possible to mix the grubs with the seaweed, so they will not be so … visible.”

  Thia just shook her head wordlessly. But she joined in to help with the search for more driftwood and to spread any clothing they could spare to catch dew. Khith stripped off its robe, and tried not to notice the covert glances the humans gave its body. Perhaps it is a good thing that I am still a neuter, it thought wryly.

  By the time the dew-catchers were arranged, the Sun had dipped below the horizon, staining the sky with colors so vivid they seemed to have come from the pallet of some de-mented artist. They sat in silence, watching the sunset fade, as a cool breeze sprang up.

  “We are all tired,” Khith said. “May I suggest that we retire early?”

  Jezzil signaled to Falar, and the mare lay down on her side, then closed her eyes with a weary sigh. He arranged driftwood beside her, then beckoned Thia to approach. “She will act as a wind barrier, and help keep you warm.”

  With a wan smile, she moved over to lie down with her head pillowed on the horse’s neck. Khith nodded, then curled up against the animal’s back. The Hthras could hear Jezzil settling down next to Thia.

  Having had no sleep at all the previous night, and little for

  the past few, Khith pressed itself against the mare’s warm hide and felt sleep descend as inexorably as nightfall.

  “I envy them,” Talis said, stifling a yawn. “I’m so tired, but I’m too keyed up to sleep.”

  She and Eregard sat together on a driftwood plank a little distance from their slumbering companions. Eregard smiled.

  “They sleep because they’re pure of heart,” he said dryly.

  “The rest of us may need a bit of help.” Reaching inside his overjerkin, he pulled out a slender flask.

  “What’s that?” she asked. “Where did you get it?”

  “Brandy,” he said. “I filched it from Khith’s medical supplies.”

  “Should we?” Talis started to reach for the flask, then hesitated. “What if the doctor needs it?”

  Eregard shrugged. “I figure a swallow or two apiece won’t be missed. It’ll help us sleep.” He handed her the flask. “After you, mis—” He stopped, then finished, “Talis.”

  She took the flask, unstoppered it, then took a sip. She lowered it, coughing a bit, and offered it back to the Prince.

  “Oh, my! Burns … all the way down.”

  Eregard took a swig. “Oh my, yes,” he sighed. “This is good brandy. Pelanese, by the taste of it.”

  Each of them had another swallow, then sat in silence, watching the last light fade and the stars begin to appear. “I wonder if the Pride sank,” she wondered, breaking the silence at long last. “I hope not. I liked Captain Garano.

  Maybe he can figure out a way to retake his ship.”

  “By the time I went
overboard, the crew seemed to have the fire under control,” Eregard said. “I don’t think she sank.”

  “They didn’t even put a boat over the side and try to recapture us,” she mused. “They shot a couple of arrows, then gave up. I wonder why?”

  The Prince laughed. “Put yourself in Kerezau’s place. You have some troublesome prisoners that jump off a ship into the sea, leagues from land. Do you care whether they die from a well-placed arrow or from drowning? The Redai had no way of knowing about Khith’s little floating refuge here.”

  Talis smiled. “When you put it that way, it makes sense.

  Do you think Khith’s right, and we’re in a shipping lane?

  And that someone will see us?”

  He sighed. “No way to tell. If we’re lucky …” He shrugged.

  The wind was picking up, and Talis, still clad in her thin blouse and trousers, shivered, rubbing her arms. “Here,”

  Eregard said, slipping off his jerkin and giving it to her, “this should help.”

  “Oh, I can’t,” she said. “You’ll get cold, sitting there in your shirtsleeves.”

  “Not with this …” He took another sip. “… to keep me warm. Go on, take it.”

  She pulled the homespun garment around her. It felt good.

  After a moment she said, hesitantly, “Um … Eregard, I wanted to say …” She trailed off, searching for the right words. They eluded her, though.

  “Say what?” He turned to look at her. It was full night now, and Talis thought that she had never seen so many stars.

  Their illumination was enough so she could discern his face, a pale oval against the night.

  “I …” She shrugged. “I wanted to thank you.” She took a breath. “For saving my life today.”

  He shook his head. “I’m just glad I found you. One little piece of ocean looks a great deal like another. I could have missed you so easily. Gone right past you and never known it.”

  “You’re a good swimmer.”

  He chuckled ruefully. “I am, I suppose. Most Pelanese children grow up half fish. Comes from living on an island, I suppose. I’ll wager you were surprised to find that I was good at anything physical.” He chuckled again, but now there was a hollow ring to it. “You’re certainly not the first.”