Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1)

by Catanese, P. W

  They spilled into the searing light of day, where the reek of sulfur was strong and the rumbling soared in pitch, no longer conducted through surrounding rock. They ran away from the dark tunnel opening until Umber wheezed, “Enough! That’s far enough!”

  Umber bent at the waist and grabbed his stomach. He managed to laugh and pant at the same time. Sophie threw herself on the ground. Oates turned to make certain the worm hadn’t ventured outside. Then he pointed a thick finger at Umber. “You won’t be happy till you get us killed, will you? I almost wet my trousers! You know what I think, Umber? I think—”

  The rumbling grew and the ground quivered. Hap craned his neck to see the steep, headless mountain that loomed over the buried city. It belched black smoke and vomited molten rock out of the cauldron at its peak. An orange river oozed down the mountainside, forking into streams. One of them looked sure to engulf the mouth of the tunnel and the place where they stood.

  “I think it’s time to leave these ghostly shores,” Umber said, raising his voice to be heard. Hap looked behind them and saw that the land sloped gradually down until it reached a sparkling sea.

  They walked swiftly until they reached a rocky beach where pocked volcanic boulders littered the sand. The sea was serene, with the smallest of waves caressing the shore.

  “Would you mind fetching the jolly boat, Oates?” Umber asked.

  Oates muttered something and stalked off toward a jumble of rocks. Umber stared back at the mountain, tapping his chin with a fist. “Will you look at that? The lava will cover the entrance and seal off the city again. And the tyrant worm with it, I suppose. Poor thing—I barely had a chance to study it.” His lips formed a pout and he turned to Hap. “And Happenstance, why do you suppose we met you at this precise moment, just before Ignis blew its top? A few minutes later and you’d have been trapped inside, doomed for sure. Do you think that was a coincidence?”

  “I guess,” Hap replied.

  Mount Ignis rattled and fired a glowing jet of molten rock out of its throat. Umber watched the mouth of the tunnel disappear. “Awfully convenient, if someone wanted to cover his tracks. But who could know when such a thing was going to happen?”

  “Let’s go!” Oates shouted over the roar. Hap turned, and his mouth dropped open when he saw the big fellow coming back to the beach balancing a boat over his head with both hands. The boat was long and wide enough for eight people to sit in pairs, but Oates bore it across the sand like a wicker basket.

  “He’s that strong, all right,” Umber said, stepping beside Hap. “Put it in the water, Oates!”

  “And where else would I put it?” grumbled Oates.

  Oates stood behind the boat, ready to shove off, while the others got inside. It was Hap’s turn, but he froze on the sand and stared at the water, wondering why his throat was knotting up inside his neck.

  Umber’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Something the matter, Hap?”

  Hap’s tongue stuck on the roof of his mouth when he tried to answer. “The water. It scares me.”

  Ignis spoke next, with a fiery explosion that made Hap jump. He turned to see chunks of stone spewing out of the volcano’s top. Oates cleared his throat loudly and shoved the boat a foot deeper into the sea.

  Umber frowned at Oates before giving Hap an encouraging smile. “You’re not the first person to fear water, Hap, but I think we’d better put some distance between us and the volcano. Would it help if I held your hand?”

  A smoldering boulder thumped into the sand nearby. Hap shook his head. “Thank you. I can do it.” With his legs quaking, he stepped into the narrow craft, took a seat on a low bench, and closed his eyes. His other senses told him what happened next: Umber hopped in and sat beside him. Oates grunted and the boat ground across the sand, then bobbed in the shallows. The water behind them sloshed as Oates waded for a stride or two, and then the boat rocked as he jumped into the stern.

  Hap thought he might have to pry his eyelids apart with his fingers, but he willed them open at last. And that was good, because he didn’t have to break his iron grip on the edge of the bench. He sat facing the back of the boat where Oates paddled hard, propelling them away from the raging mountain. Black smoke billowed across the sky.

  “How long have you been afraid of water, Happenstance?” asked Umber.

  “As long as I can remember,” Hap replied.

  Umber chuckled. “Funny, Hap.” The smile faded by half. “Did you mean to be funny? Because you don’t remember anything, do you?”

  Hap shook his head. “Not before I woke up. No.” He looked over his shoulder and saw the open sea. The strange nature of his memory struck him again. He couldn’t remember ever being at sea, yet he knew that sea was the name for this watery body, and he knew that it swarmed with fish, and he knew that he’d taste salt if he put a drop in his mouth. Instinct told him that the sea wasn’t always this placid, and that it could heave up lethal, towering waves when its ire was raised. He glanced over the side and wondered how far he’d sink if the boat capsized. The thought made his breath stop, and he dug his nails into the wood of the bench.

  “Where are we going?” Hap asked, forcing the words out of his tight throat.

  Umber leaned closer. “Back to Kurahaven, Hap. It’s where I live. I honestly don’t know where else I’d bring you. Besides, it’s not as if we’re taking you away from your home. I don’t know where you came from, but it wasn’t this deserted land.”

  Hap looked again at the endless expanse of water. “How far is Kurahaven?”

  “Far,” Umber said. “In the kingdom of Celador. But don’t worry, Oates won’t paddle us the whole way.” He reached down and lifted a long brass tube with a fat bulb at one end. It ran nearly the length of the boat. Umber lowered the bulbous end into the water, letting the rod slip through his hands until most was submerged. Then he lifted a mallet made of the same metal. “Oates, do you suppose it’s deep enough?”

  Oates leaned over and stared into the depths. “Ought to be.”

  Umber hammered on the tube with the mallet, playing a song with only one note. It rang like a bell with every strike and still hummed when he was done. Umber whistled as he pulled the tube out of the water and stowed it.

  Mount Ignis exploded again. A hundred gray plumes shot skyward as rocky debris peppered the sea.

  “Keep paddling, Oates,” Umber said, miming the motion. “No need to cut it close.” Oates grunted and dug deep with the oar, and the boat picked up speed.

  Hap was about to ask Umber what the purpose of the tube was, when something off the bow caught his eye. A swell came toward them from the open sea. It was wide and long, like a low hill of water, approaching fast. For the first time since he’d boarded, Hap let go of the bench with one hand. He pointed at the swell. “What is that?”

  Umber laughed. “Nothing to fear, my boy.”

  The swell passed directly under them. Hap’s stomach turned upside down as the boat crested and fell. He watched the bulge in the sea die down, and then the water swirled and bubbled. His eyes widened to the point of pain as he saw the water beside the boat darken—not because it was reflecting the dark volcanic cloud above, but because something enormous rose from the depths below.

  A strange craft made of oily black wood, far larger than theirs, shattered the surface of the sea. It was rectangular, with a railing around its top deck and an enclosed hull below. Just as Hap wondered how the vessel could move underwater, the answer emerged in the form of a vast, knobby animal bulk. The craft was mounted on the back of a gargantuan creature with broad, powerful fins at its sides and a wide fluked tail that arched out of the water, flexed high in the air, and eased down. Water poured in sheets off the creature’s speckled sides and was channeled in smooth, arcing jets from the corners of the craft.

  Near the head, something bobbed momentarily above the surface. It was an eye, so large that Hap’s hand could not cover it, with deeply etched lines above and below. The eye rolled and stared at the small bo
at before submerging again. Just in front of the craft, from a hole in the creature’s back, a plume of water shot a hundred feet into the air.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Hap felt as if the gears of his mind had disengaged. He barely heard Umber’s voice: “Hap, this is the leviathan barge. And that is her captain.”

  Hap blinked fast to regain his senses. That is her captain? He saw a slender figure walk nimbly along the creature’s back in front of the wooden barge. It was a woman, dripping water from slick-backed hair, and clad in a snug shirt and leggings made of oily, shiny material. She walked up a flight of steps onto the barge and shoved something over the side through a gap in the railing. It was a ladder made of cord and wood that unrolled as it tumbled to the water.

  “Take us closer, Oates,” Umber said.

  “I’m already taking us closer,” grumbled Oates. “Do I hate when people ask me to do a thing I already started? Yes, I do.” He stabbed the water with his oar and paddled them to the side of the leviathan. Hap stared down at the blue-gray flipper that was just under the surface, gently stirring the water. The crescent limb was a behemoth itself, twice the size of their little boat. Even its subtlest motions made the water swirl and peak.

  The boat bumped against the slick hide. Sophie hopped off her seat and went up the ladder, agile despite her missing hand.

  “Ready, Hap?” Umber said.

  Hap stood and took a deep breath. He was happy to leave the little boat, but he would have preferred dry land to a sea-beast that might plunge back underwater at any moment. He stared at the ladder.

  “Don’t worry, Hap,” Umber said. “She’s the safest craft you’ll ever board. Come, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Hap nodded, seized a rung with two hands, and started to climb. He didn’t want to look down, so he kept his eyes on the immense wall of speckled gray flesh before him. The skin was dotted with hard shells that clung fast (the word for them popped into his mind: barnacles), and water still trickled down in wriggling streams. He counted the rungs to keep his mind focused on anything but the deep sea. After twenty-six he reached the top, where the captain put a hand under his arm and helped him onto the deck.

  Umber bounded aboard next. He grinned broadly and held his arms wide. “Nima, my dear! How good to see you and Boroon again!”

  The captain crossed her arms and bent her head to one side. “And you, Lord Umber.” Her dark eyes went to the smoldering mountain behind them. “A close call?”

  “What else?” Umber laughed. “I’ll tell you later. There’s an introduction to be made first. This young man is named Happenstance, but we already call him Hap. Hap, this is our esteemed friend, Captain Nima of the Merinots.”

  Nima closed her eyes and bowed at the waist. Hap mimicked the bow. When the captain opened her eyes again, she gave Hap a closer look, and her brow wrinkled as their gazes met. My eyes again, Hap thought. Are they really so strange?

  “Boroon and I welcome you, Happenstance,” she said. Hap looked around, wondering who Boroon was; he didn’t see anyone else aboard. Down below, he figured, spotting a hatch that led into the hull. When he looked at Nima again, she was still staring, even as she gathered her long black hair in one hand and wrung the water from it. Hap’s shoulders twitched as he noticed the thin sheets of transparent skin that bridged the spaces between her knuckles.

  Ignis bellowed again, filling the sky with stone. “We should secure the jolly boat and go,” Nima said, raising her voice.

  “I’m already securing it!” Oates shouted. “Why must people tell me to do something I’m already doing?”

  Umber brought Hap to the front of the barge, where Hap leaned uneasily on the rail and watched the sea. Even in this placid state it made Hap’s chest tighten just to look at it. He almost wished they’d stayed at the foot of Mount Ignis and taken their chances with the molten rock.

  Nima went down the stairs that led to the leviathan’s vast back. Hap noticed she wore no shoes, and he thought the same kind of webbing that connected her fingers might also be there between her toes.

  Nima walked up to the hole on the creature’s back, not far from its head, and stood over it. She cupped her hands beside her mouth and called out: “Boroon! To Kurahaven!”

  The leviathan sang a deep, booming note. Whirlpools appeared above its great fins. So that’s who Boroon is, thought Hap.

  “Look aft, Hap,” Umber said, pointing behind them. The tail of the leviathan rose high out of the water, hovered ominously, and slammed down again, making a thunderous pop.

  “Hold on!” Umber cried. He and Hap seized the rail just as the beast and barge surged toward the pale horizon. Nima somehow stayed on her feet despite the lurch. The leviathan’s broad head plowed the sea, with waves foaming on either side. Hap felt suddenly dizzy. He released the rail and slumped until he sat on the deck. When he pressed his hand over his heart, it thudded against his palm.

  Umber sat beside Hap and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, Happenstance. We’re on our way.”

  Hap drew his knees to his chest and hugged them. Oates leaned on the rail at the stern and stared at the volcano in their wake. In the middle of the deck, Sophie opened the hatch and disappeared downstairs.

  Hap turned and saw Umber watching him. He looked at the dark wood under his feet. “Everybody stares at my eyes.”

  “Well, they are something to see,” Umber said. He reached into another one of the pockets on his vest, dug through its contents, and pulled out a palm-size brass object that was hinged on one side. He pried it open, revealing a mirror, and handed it to Hap. “Take a look.”

  Hap stared into the glass. Nothing about the reflection was familiar: not the prominent ears, or the narrow chin, or the straight brown hair, and certainly not the large green eyes that sparkled with faint points of light. He was looking at a face that he’d never seen before that moment.

  “I don’t know who I am,” he whispered, handing the mirror back to Umber.

  Umber sat for a while, tapping his temple with a pair of fingers. “Well. Do you remember anything at all from before we found you?”

  Hap sniffed. “The first thing I remember is opening my eyes. Before that … nothing.”

  “And that fellow who was with you—do you know who he was? Anything about him?”

  Hap shook his head.

  Umber pressed a knuckle against his lips. “Bewildering. Hap, do those initials on the seal mean something to you? WN?”

  Hap closed his eyes and concentrated. It was no use. He could trace his memories only back to when he’d awoken, and not a moment earlier. There was a barrier there he couldn’t penetrate. “No,” Hap said. “But … I would like to know what that note said, if you don’t mind telling me.”

  Umber angled his head. “You mean the note that said ‘For the Eyes of Umber Only’?”

  “Oh. Right,” Hap said quietly.

  Umber stretched his arms and crossed his legs. “Tell me something, Hap. We’re headed to Kurahaven. Ever heard of the place?”

  Hap shook his head.

  “No? How about Londria? Pernica? Norr?” Umber swept his hand toward the horizon. “The Rulian Sea?”

  With every name, Hap shook his head again. He had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of that.

  Umber looked right and left and leaned closer, dropping his voice so that only Hap might hear. He offered the names of five more places. As he spoke them, Hap saw a flash of sadness in Umber’s eyes.

  “I don’t know those either,” said Hap. He wondered why those names had to be whispered. He repeated them to himself, to preserve them in his memory.

  “Well, can you recall the name of any place at all?” Umber asked. “A town, a city, a land, a sea?”

  Hap didn’t bother to shake his head. He simply let it hang.

  “Now, Hap, don’t be sad. Perhaps those memories will come back. After a good night’s sleep, maybe. And dinner, too! Do you suppose you like seafood?”

  CHAPTER
r />   5

  Umber showed Hap around the levia-than barge, insisting that Hap would lose his fear once he saw what a remarkable ship she was. He first pointed out how the barge was affixed to Boroon. While the leviathan’s sides and belly had a slick, rubbery hide, his back was covered with a natural armor that could bear the weight of the craft. Bony, club-headed growths studded the armor, and thick ropes were tied around those projections and secured to sturdy cleats. The barge itself was perhaps eighty feet long, nearly half the length of Boroon.

  “There are two decks below,” Umber said. “The bottom deck, or the hold, is for cargo. The middle is for the captain’s cabin, the guests’ quarters, the central cabin, and the galley. Ah, the galley—are you as hungry as me?” He led the way down a steep staircase. The moment they left the open air, a pleasing fragrance seized Hap by the nose, so intense that he took a deep, audible breath.

  “Smell that? The lingering scent of spices in the hold,” Umber said, filling his slender chest with air. “Spice is a perfect cargo, compact and valuable. Ah, here we are: the central cabin.” The bottom of the stairs opened into a spacious room in the center of the middle deck. “The captain’s cabin is at the bow, unlike your typical ship. And the guests sleep in that room in the back. Hap, you remember the rest of our friends.”

  The room was lit by hanging lanterns that swayed gently, with their mellow orange light in constant motion. The teak walls were adorned with nautical maps and lined with barrels and cabinets that were lashed tight to keep from shifting as the barge rolled. A long table surrounded by chairs occupied one end. Oates was napping on a bench in a corner, with an elbow across his eyes. Sophie sat at a desk at the other end, scratching at parchment with a thin stick of charcoal.

  “Smart girl, Sophie,” Umber said, walking to her with Hap in tow. “Get it down while it’s fresh in your mind. May we look?”

  Sophie nodded and turned her work so that Umber and Hap could see. It was a collection of detailed sketches of the worm. There were large renderings of the ferocious head and its snaking body, and smaller studies of the creature’s anatomy: the eye, the wicked tail, and the clawed feet.