by Russ Linton
She didn't know how that sort of love compared to Chakor's lusty infatuation. Always the coin changed hands, and the relationship ended. She was free.
Not according to the trolls.
Wind blasted her face. Her hair whipped into her eyes. Bitter drool from the medicine trickled down her chin. Tiny amounts found her throat, and she felt her tongue go numb. She spat and watched the bulb take the same impossible curve of the mast and tumble into the sea. Her equilibrium followed.
First one hand missed its hold, then the other. She was running in place, frantic palms finding splinters as she dug them into the wood. She slipped a body length down the mast in the space of a sharp breath. Five more to the deck.
She grabbed hold with everything. Forearms. Thighs. Even trying to hook her neck against the rounded mast. Every part of her body became an anchor. The free fall stopped.
Nanda managed to bellow above the wind. "Get down from there!" His string of curses was lost under the howling winds.
"C'mon," she whispered. She may have shouted. "Do this."
Her toes found purchase, then the edge of her foot. Carefully, she extended along the mast and reset her legs. Eyes on Firetongue, she gritted her teeth and began to make progress, one arm length at a time.
She latched onto the yard and hauled herself up. The billowing sail wouldn't allow her to hook her legs underneath unless she sat as Firetongue, with her back to the Pamanites. No, she wanted, needed to see ahead. She squirmed to wedge herself comfortably in the intersection of wood. As she worked, Firetongue watched from the other side. The Ek'kiru's antennae writhed toward her, fighting the wind.
"Why are you up here?" shouted Kaaliya. Her arm tightened as the prow dipped below the horizon and a wall of water challenged the top of the mast.
"Trying not to kill."
Anyone else, it would've been a joke. Even the matron had delivered a few in her flat tone. But Firetongue's mandibles crossed and ground together when she spoke. Her body bound tightly as though she couldn't trust what her limbs might do.
Kaaliya knew she had a slow descent ahead of Firetongue's powerful jaw and the sure-footedness of a true spider. Maybe she should've listened to Talemok.
"I don't follow," she said, casually searching for the rigging which provided the most direct route.
"The past is unraveling. I feel it." The answer made little sense and said nothing for the Ek'kiru's state of mind. "Without it, we have no meaning. The Hive, no meaning. As is my duty, I must defend it with my life."
"Do the others feel this?" Kaaliya asked, eyeing the deck full of Ek'kiru.
Firetongue shook her head. "They wear their own past, not those of the ones who came before. Their essences are collected at the Hive and martyred to the Child, so in death, we may all know our place in the greater toil."
"You told me this."
"I did?" Firetongue appeared confused about the secrets she revealed. "The Hive Guard are honored. Trusted," she stumbled on the word. "Those surrendered essences bleed onto us. We must know control and must keep from taking what is not yet ours," Her mandibles clacked. "We touch our people's history, like a statue in the dark. There is a shape, and that shape is collapsing."
Trolls had made more sense, though Kaaliya thought she understood at least the basic meaning. Whatever was happening on the horizon meant trouble for not just Stronghold but Abwoon as well.
The boat rose on a swell. Surrounding ocean plunged away. Kaaliya felt herself pulled forward as the deck pitched and men, Ek'kiru, scrambled to brace for the inevitable shift and crash of water.
Ahead, the Pamanites' sharp edges and deep clefts raked the heavens. Kaaliya focused on them, a taste of earthiness on the wind that could only be found when the vast sea had erased all recollection of it.
"Is that what the Pamanites return means? Your past is changing?"
"Meanings are too great for any one Ek'kiru." Firetongue's body relaxed, and her head dipped. "We are not allowed to touch the past until we die. It is forbidden."
Antennae withdrew, the matron's head swiveled to where Kaaliya could no longer see her eyes.
"You broke taboo," Kaaliya said.
"I did. I tried to take the gift of the Hive before death. Before we are allowed."
"So that's what you brought you to Stronghold? On this journey?"
The glassy eye sought her again, turning until a reflection of her astonished look replaced the rolling horizon. "I tasted truth. When I did, I saw darkness consuming Abwoon. I came to prove it wrong." The matron's eye once again reflected the mountains. "I have failed."
CHAPTER XXVIII
Kaaliya stayed atop the mast with Firetongue while the ship cut an unsteady path toward the mountains. Where the mountains tapered away into mist suggested open space between them. From faraway they'd looked like a connected range but closer, they appeared to be individual peaks clustered around a single granite spire.
A waterfall caught her eye. She watched it spill down the side and disappear into the clouds. Beneath, the falls trickled into a gossamer thread until it found the sea.
The closer they got, the more improbable the sight became. The mosaic of the ancient Mutri temple brought to life.
She tried again to find the waterfall and found something else crawling along the side of the central peak. An impossibly small sapphire speck climbed, and between the speck and the cliff, a round rock ambled against gravity. She watched the faraway shapes until they disappeared into a gap.
On the deck below, the Ek'kiru and crew had given up waiting for whatever catastrophe they assumed would befall the "distressed" women. Firetongue hadn't volunteered any more information nor asked her to leave. Regardless, Kaaliya sensed a lessening of the tension and hoped she'd helped bring that about.
Another deep pitch and the prow stabbed at the water and bounced, shedding foam through the narrow teeth of the rails. Kaaliya's stomach lurched, and she suddenly missed the swollen bulb of troll medicine. The height to the deck became dizzying and distorted.
Kaaliya reached out and touched Firetongue's hand. The Ek'kiru didn't move but placed a hand atop hers. She smiled at the gesture and gave a quick squeeze before pulling away and lacing her legs around the rigging. Legs locked, hands feeding the rope, Kaaliya descended to the deck.
Baladeva wrapped her in a rough blanket as soon as her feet touched the boards. Though coarse, it felt like freshly shorn wool. She'd been soaked through, and her arms were limp and unresponsive. She headed to the prow and sat against the capstan facing east so she could watch the Pamanites without distraction.
The captain followed, and he propped his elbows across the bars above her. "Will the Ek'kiru be joining us soon?"
"She'll be fine," said Kaaliya. "Your First needn't worry about her or the sails."
"He's so damnably serious," Baladeva sighed. "Nanda worries too much, but I find it to be an important trait out here."
She leaned out around the capstan to see Nanda at the rudder by Talemok and the two other Ek'kiru. His suspicious eyes dropped to her then back to the horizon.
Baladeva squinted into the distance. "What's your plan once we reach these legendary peaks, my illustrious Jadugar's apprentice?"
"If we follow my Master's advice, we'll report an encounter with a storm or a trick of the light. Some other harmless thing."
"Ahh, so he wants you to lie."
Kaaliya tugged at the corners of the blanket. "Even the Attarah, who seems to know there is a greater mystery, would just as soon see this new problem disappear."
Baladeva released his short bark of laughter. "That so? Well, the Attarah and his advisor will get their chance to speak to the buxom ladies themselves and ask if they'd be so kind as to stop marring our skies."
"What makes you say that?"
"They're moving," replied Baladeva squinting at the peaks. "I couldn't be certain at first, so damnably slow, but they're headed toward us, toward Stronghold. They'll get there eventually."
She acce
pted the captain's hand and pulled herself up. "My plan then. I'll need a closer look. As close as you can get."
***
Deep troughs worsened, becoming foam-capped mountains. Torrents of water swept the deck. Whatever magic held the mountains aloft had given them a barrier of vengeful ocean intent on turning away any intrepid adventurers.
Baladeva held to his post at the rudder, shouting commands in the language of the sea which she barely recognized. His insectoid helmsmen reacted to every request and the rigging writhed with Ek'kiru sailors. Every hand was on deck, occupied with ropes and sail. Firetongue rode out the waves like a bird in her nest during a summer storm.
At times, they lost sight of the Pamanites completely. They would turn hard to cleave into a wave or tumble down valleys of foam-stretched water so deep, the sky became nothing but the rearing sea. Kaaliya struggled to keep up. Eyes in the back of her head and middle limbs which gripped and served as feet or hands would have been a blessing. She held fast to ropes flung loose by the jarring swats of the angry ocean or that were tossed her way by Ek'kiru whose extra limbs were overwhelmed.
A sail tore and the Night Cutter groaned. Shouts rained down from the aft and Nanda picked up the call, abandoning his line beneath the mainsail to a handful of Ek'kiru. As he scrambled toward the fore, Kaaliya watched the ship roll, up and to port almost at an axis around him, and he leaned until she thought he might meet the deck with his shoulder.
She clung to her rope, no longer to maintain its position but to keep herself from being swallowed by the sea. All that wasn't attached, loose rigging, Ek'kiru, men, began to teeter on the edge, pulled toward the abyss.
Water coursed along the port rail as it skidded across the ocean. A bucket leapt into the sea and bobbed once before disappearing. Soon after came a scream. A sailor slipped, clawing at the deck as he raced down the incline.
She'd watch him die, surely. Her question earlier about whether they could come back for her had she fallen would be answered. The captain, the sailors, they didn't control where the ship went. Their job was to determine how long it stayed afloat.
Help him. Freezing spray pelted her. She searched for a route along the whipping lines and rigid masts angled toward the sea. On the precipice. A crumbling ledge. Her hands tightened on the rope, and she couldn't let go this time.
A blur and chirp fought the waves' turbulence and crush of sound. Talemok lit from the steering deck. Small wings fluttering from under sheaths, his powerful legs connected with the rail and he grabbed the sailor with his upper hands.
The ocean fought for its prize. It pulled, and the Ek'kiru's upper half disappeared in the raging water as the human was sucked under. Nanda grabbed a rope and gave up his balancing act. He held tight and flung himself, sliding down the near vertical deck, aiming like a blindly thrown javelin for the submerged rail.
Baladeva screamed, guttural and unintelligible. He watched Nanda skitter across the deck and hurled desperate commands at the crew.
Talemok reared back, his feet and hands latched to the ship, the sailor breaking the roiling surface under his upper arms. Nanda struck hard beside them, somehow managing to secure his footing and grab hold of both Ek'kiru and man.
The sailors clung to rope and rail. She watched as the water raced by and tugged at their legs, inviting them into oblivion.
Then the ship tossed. Sails upright, Baladeva shouted more hoarse commands and the rudder dipped once more into the sea. The three on the edge of ruin were rolled inward where more Ek'kiru raced to grab them.
"Ha!" Baladeva cried into the storm, wild-eyed and fearsome. "Find another to seek your company, Alshasra'a! You cannot have him! You cannot have any of them! It'll take more than the rage of a god to change this man!"
***
The crew dripped from plastered hair and heavy antennae, their clothes cinched tight around their limbs. The sailor nearly lost overboard cowered on the deck.
His wailing and prayers had become a background noise over the rush of the waves and a low, resonate hum. Kaaliya felt the sound rattle her chest though it was little more than a distant growl. Even the Ek'kiru marveled, their industrious arms slack and antennae searching.
The ship skirted an invisible coast where, inexplicably, the water had calmed. Granite became their sky. Water trickled in heavy streams from dizzying heights, slapping the ocean surface. Clouds like fresh cotton from the field shrouded the bases, dozens of spans in the air above. Torn gaps in the blanket exposed rock and occasional bits of sky.
Most interesting to Kaaliya were the chains. Every peak was as she'd seen from farther out, a distinct mass. Holes in the clouds showed each had been lashed together by metal chains with links the size of their ship.
Far off—a pebble at this distance—a boulder broke the clouds, trailing mist behind. A gout of water shot up where it struck, and ripples fanned across the ocean.
"Eyes of Vasheru," muttered Baladeva.
Nanda waited at the captain's shoulder where he'd been since the near disaster. Kaaliya could feel the powerful joy and sense of relief which drew the two so close as to almost be touching. Their veil of professionalism had slipped immediately after they'd left the swells and Baladeva had tackled Nanda to the deck, cursing and crying, his dark kohl streaked along his face.
Talemok stood near the three of them as well. The ordeal had formed a silent bond and Nanda had allowed the Ek'kiru's intrusion. He scoured the air with his antennae. It soon became clear the four of them weren't the only ones staring at the spectacle of the Pamanites.
Baladeva faced the ship and called to the crew. "Enough gawking! We'll never return home without everyone at their business!"
'Home' had been the right word and Kaaliya saw the distraught sailor stir at the mention though he didn't rise. Even the tireless Ek'kiru perked up, brought to heel by the fury of the sea. Talemok made a short bow to the captain then made his way to the rudder.
The captain headed to the quivering sailor and pulled him to his feet. Baladeva spoke to him, and he received a detached rocking of the sailor's head in reply.
"Nanda," the captain called.
Nanda pushed gruffly past Kaaliya to join Baladeva and then led the sailor away. She couldn't shake the image of him clinging to life with Talemok and the sailor, or of Baladeva's terror at seeing him head for the rail. Instead of putting the sailor to work, Nanda crouched beside him.
For a time, the man seemed unresponsive but then he began to interact. Nodding. Making eye contact. They soon clasped forearms and the first mate left him, but not before turning a withering eye on Kaaliya.
"Perhaps we were too hard on him," she said as Baladeva rejoined her.
"Nanda?" Baladeva's face scrunched, and he gave in to the pull to place the first mate in his sight. "He's a good man." His gaze wandered to the deck, and he tilted his head toward her. "He really did think I'd found another. Younger, more handsome."
"Me? Handsome?"
"Well," he placed a finger to his lip and stole a glance around behind her. "In the dark with that dreadful hat in your face, I'd take a stab at that boyish little…"
She stopped him. "Been tried, but I was the one who ended up doing the stabbing."
Baladeva laughed, full and genuine. The noise drew yet another brooding look from his lover.
Now she felt truly guilty. She'd goaded Nanda on and then lead them into mortal danger. Normally she would've reveled in the adventure like Baladeva, but she found herself thinking about that ledge in the Pit. About what the captain's mood would've been had Nanda been swept overboard. She'd lost a friend, that's all he'd been. How much harder if she'd let him be something more? How could anyone ever face such a loss?
She regarded Talemok, who'd been listening to the conversation, so quiet she almost forgot he was there. "I saw you leap. How high can you go?"
"I could try," said Talemok, seeming to understand where she was headed.
"Reach the clouds?" Kaaliya insisted. They hung low, lower tha
n any storm, though higher than the walls of Stronghold by a good measure.
The Ek'kiru wiggled his antennae. "Maybe closer to a short flight." He flicked and then sheathed small wings along his back. "Though if it proves too far…"
"We'll be sending a rope with you anyway so I can follow. We can use it to pull you back on board if we need to," said Kaaliya.
Baladeva appraised the Ek'kiru with a twitch of his head. "As it is, we'll stay out from under Pama's skirts. If you see an opportunity, shout out, and we'll take our liberties with her, eh? Hopefully, whatever is up there doesn't take an exception to a little peek."
He winked and left them. Talemok soon took his leave as well. Alone, Kaaliya lingered on the captain's words. She too wondered what might be up there. Jadugar? Urujaav? Alshasra'a himself? The possibilities began to reawaken her excitement.
The activity on deck returned to a nearly normal state. After wrestling with the terrifying seas, work was slow and methodical, but it carried on in the shadow of the Pamanites. Firetongue had come down from the mast to stand on the starboard side and face the sunset. A wide, empty space existed around her, defined by the paths of the other Ek'kiru.
They'd both come on this journey looking for something. Always moving, always eyes forward, Kaaliya wasn't sure if she hadn't left it behind.
CHAPTER XXIX
Night fell. Talemok could no longer search for a place to make his attempt, and they'd given up on the idea of sailing under a hidden sky of stone until dawn. Kaaliya had asked to speak with Baladeva and his first mate. She stood in his cabin near the door, leaning on the frame with Nanda between her and the Captain's table.
"We only need to sail out and report what we see," Nanda pleaded. "We should leave. Every moment we stay, the closer we get to disaster."
"He's right," she said. "I can't make you stay."
Nanda cut Kaaliya a glance over his shoulder.