“Um, I believe you already know her, Captain. You talked to her last night. This is Anya.” Jorse was trying to grin.
“I know the stories, Jorse. The Schwendau curse. Possessed by demons.” She reached over and touched Anya on the arm. “I can feel something there.” Her gaze swung back to Jorse then back to the girl, then back to Jorse. “She’s a smart one, I’ll give ye that, and pretty too.” Anya blushed, but said nothing.
“I noticed that almost immediately, Captain.” His reply was to Captain Svetla, but his gaze lingered on Anya.
“I think you had better tell me everything, Jorse, before we go much further.”
“It’s a long story, Captain.”
“We have a long voyage ahead of us.”
“Before I begin, what is our status, Captain? Both ships, if you please.”
“We be in close company, sailing for Elandia. Apparently you discussed things wi yer First Mate. After I convinced him that you were aboard, we weighed anchor. He said he knew where ye wanted te go. Was he correct?”
“Aye, Captain, he was.” Jorse took a deep breath, sat down beside Anya, and began. “It all started several years before I was born, early in the reign of Hedric and Silla Schwendau, my parents. Members of the lower nobility ...”
Captain Svetla listened, and as she listened she watched the two on the bunk before her. The young woman’s hand crept into the young man’s, and her eyes were ever fixed on his face. If this was a demon — then she wanted one too.
“... so we encouraged the volcano to come back to life. We wound up here. Like I told my First Mate, I have business in Elandia that should only take a day or two, and then we will be on our way back east, via the south side of Aion. Yes, I’ve heard the tales of Sea Serpents at the river Klarr.” He inserted quickly, before the captain could say anything. “Between the Donner-kind, the Dagfred, Anya and I, we should be able to distract anything long enough to get by.”
The weathered dark haired woman nodded. “Ye have thought it out pretty good.” Her gaze swung to Anya, and the captain reached out, touching one of her arms, again. “Just what are ye, girl? Yer suppose to live inside a Schwendau, not outside.”
Anya looked a bit embarrassed. “I’m a projection, really; a projection of what Jorse wants to see, and a projection of what I want to be. It’s more than smoke and mirrors, but not by too much. If cut, I will not bleed. If Jorse dies, however, I also will die.”
“So, I feel you somewhat, girl. Do ye feel me?”
Anya blushed. “Yes.”
Jorse’s growling stomach saved them further embarrassment. Captain Svetla just laughed.
“He always was a hungry one, our young Jorse.” The captain said, winking at Anya. “About ate up all our profits, he did. Why don’t the two of you come on down to the galley, and I’ll see if the new cook can’t find something to quiet up that belly of his.”
“I think not, Captain.” Anya’s voice was sad. “I feel like Pinocchio.” Captain Svetla frowned.
“There was a fairy tale of a wooden boy who dreamed he was real.” Jorse supplied. The captain nodded and watched in fascination as Anya flowed back into Jorse.
Over a bowl of fish chowder, made with locally caught whitefish, carrots, onions, potatoes and fresh greens, all covered in savory spices, Jorse asked,
The galley was quiet, now. The chowder was finished and the two sat at the small, nailed down trestle table, sipping strong black tea. Outside the single porthole the dark sea slipped by.
“Captain?”
The dark eyes looked up, over the nearly empty cup. “Yes, Jorse?”
“Anya and I were talking,” He looked into the dark eyes. “We would like you to join our little family.” The woman started to open her mouth, and Jorse interrupted. “Before you answer, think about this. In earlier times, all humans that had ‘advisors’ were killed. Having a K’Dreex within you is going to make you special, different from everybody else. You will probably have to become a leader, along with the rest of us.”
“And what are the benefits of having an, ‘advisor’?” Captain Svetla asked, shrewdly.
“Ahhh...”
“There are many benefits.” Anya interrupted, speaking through Jorse. “One is that the advisor has thousands of years’ worth of memories to draw on, so they can really advise you well. Another thing is that the advisor can heal you when you have been injured. Cuts and bruises heal almost overnight, if not sooner. Ask Jorse here. Broken bones in a week. Other things, like missing limbs, take somewhat longer.”
“What?” Jorse was so surprised that he spoke out loud.
Captain Svetla was grinning broadly now. “Did you just happen forget to tell Jorse something, Anya?”
“I didn’t forget, Captain. Just like I didn’t happen to forget to tell him that having an advisor greatly increases one’s life span.”
“And what does having an advisor increase your lifespan to?” The captain’s voice was an intense whisper.
“We’ve never been too sure, when it comes to humans. Early estimates ranged from seven to ten...thousand years, that is.” The captain dropped her glass. Jorse just sat with his mouth hanging open.
“Who do I have to kill or whose baby do I have to have?”
In his mind, Anya laughed, and her voice was the sound of silver bells. “No one, silly woman. Now you’re talking like a man.”
Jorse held his hand out, palm up. “This is going to hurt a bit, Captain. You’ll feel a little strange, and then you should hear a voice talking to you, in your mind. That’s all very normal - in a very weird situation. This is your last chance to renege.” Captain Svetla held out her right hand, palm up, and smiled. “It’s up to you now, love.” Jorse murmured to Anya.
Deep within him, Jorse could feel her concentrating. A swelling bump stood out in Jorse’s palm, grew to the size of a small walnut, and then split, dribbling blood over his palm and onto the scarred wood tabletop. Jorse tipped his palm to deposit the small black slug on the hand of Captain Svetla. The woman’s eyes were big, but she never flinched as the black creature pierced her skin and entered her bloodstream.
Jorse and Anya watched intently, and soon the captain’s face seemed to light in wonder.
“He says that his name is Dalan, and he brings me greetings from,” she looked up at the young man sitting in front of her, “his father and his mother. Oh, goodness...” Her tearing eyes seemed to lose their focus as she became better acquainted with her advisor.
He could feel Anya’s frown, her disbelief.
Anya’s voice was haunted.
~~~
The weather in the waters south of Greater Wassaw remained placid. Moderate winds from the west rushed them on their way, as if in a hurry. Storms remained a distant threat, with dark clouds boiling at the very edge of the horizon. It was when a brief and intense rain squall struck the ship, blasting the decks with sheets of water and letting the crew quickly refill their nearly empty water barrels that Jorse began to smell a rat.
<
We’re doing just what She wants us to do.> He grouched to Anya, as the two watched a pod of dolphins skip across the foam-flecked waves.
The island of Elandia was small, about the same size as the island of Dewar, on the other side of the known world, and the port of Lom was roughly the size of Bratsk, on the island of Xicocu. That is where any similarity ended. While Bratsk was seedy and rundown, suffering both fierce winter storms and drunken sailors with equal equanimity, Lom was a beautiful and serene city. From a league out, Jorse could see carefully manicured terraces, gardens and ordered rows of trees. Even from this distance he could smell the sweet scent of flowers, and the tangy sharp smell of pines. It was doubtful he thought with a wry smile, that they would have any Vampire Pines here.
It had been discussed and decided on, that the Donner-kind would accompany the Dagfred into harbor this time; so it was with some trepidation that the crew prepared to enter the busy, immaculate port. The black pennons with their silver gryphon, stood out boldly in the bright sun.
The crews and captains of the two ships could have saved themselves the worry. As the boats entered the harbor, a small pilot boat darted out, and quickly directed the Dagfed to the merchant pier, while the Donner-kind was shown to a secluded anchorage. The Raider wasn’t isolated, so much as put on display to all passing merchantmen, as if to say “There are the dreaded Corsairs of Aethelia.” Close, but not too close.
A small reception committee waited for them, even before the Dagfred stopped moving and was tied securely to the heavy ironwood cleats mounted on the docks. Sailors sweated and cursed at the mooring lines while the Priestesses just stood, waiting. There were six of them, and two trim black landau carriages drawn by sleek black horses.
Captain Svetla touched Jorse’s arm, as he made to step down the short gangplank and onto the dock.
Two of the white clad women came forward, just as his feet struck the wooden dock. “The Goddess would like to speak with you, Jorse.” The Priestess nodded to an open carriage door. The pristine harbor of Lom was overshadowed by the massive, blindingly white Motherhouse of the Temple of the Blue Moon; the Temple of Selene. It could have withstood a siege, but at the same time it was beautiful, in an alien, unworldly way, with its flying buttresses and soaring fairylike towers, their white sides turning to a shimmering silver in the sun. He thought it all a bit overdone.
The cobblestone streets of Lom gave the coach riders a teeth rattling trip, but finally it was over. As Jorse opened the door, six more priestess fell in behind him, and he frowned. This, he thought strictly to himself, was starting to turn ugly very fast. Inside him, Anya’s thoughts were as composed as any of the wax-faced Priestesses, but her shadowy death grip on his hand told him otherwise.
“Please follow me.” The left most priestess said in a dull monotone. He frowned again. The Priestesses, he knew from experience, were far from warm and friendly, but they were, at no time, this dull witted monotone. He smiled and bowed. They were trying to bait him.
“Certainly ladies, please, lead on.” He waved an arm, and then turned to follow the Priestesses. There was a shocked silence from Anya.
She relaxed.
Somewhere behind them, the great doors boomed closed, and a shiver worked its way up his spine from somewhere around his feet. The corridor was long, empty, and very white. It smelled, he sniffed again, it smelled of a place long unused, musty and dead. None of the other Temples had smelled this way. Most were minimally furnished, but all had a fresh scent, usually of flowers, and felt warm and alive. Stand mounted white ceramic lanterns cast furtive, inadequate light, and from the scuffs in the dusty floor, they had only recently been installed; this morning perhaps? The word trap drifted around in his mind, looking for something to attach itself to. Anya’s grip was slowly crushing his hand.
“Enter here and wait.” The first priestess intoned. Jorse bowed and moved through the open door, looking a good bit sprightlier than he really felt. The door boomed shut and he winced, but he did not check it to see if it locked. One lantern lit the center of the vast room. The walls were cloaked in darkness. There were three chairs set in the ring of light, two facing one, all hard and uncomfortable looking. The assumption was obvious. Jorse seated the now visible Anya, and then seated himself. Then they waited. Sometime during the second hour, a voice startled his reverie, and he felt Anya jump.
“You took your sweet time getting here.” There was a tall woman sitting in the third chair. She looked just like the other Priestesses except... she was the mold from which the models were copied. Her skin was perfection itself and it glowed. Jorse blinked, and assured himself that it was so. There was a definite radiance coming from the woman before them.
“Are you Selene?” Jorse asked abruptly.
“And if I am?” The reply came in glacial tones. He knew he was being manipulated, but he couldn’t help it.
“If you are, then take out this package that your servants,” he purposefully used the insulting term, “put into me, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Don’t you want your pay? Corsairs always want their pay.” Now She was being downright insulting.
“No. I have all that I need or want. You keep it. Now take your package and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, Jorse, you poor fool.” Her laugh seemed to suck the very heat out of the room. “YOU are the package.”
Jorse found himself standing. “I...” His brain was frozen in fear.
“You won’t be needing this little girl hanging around your neck anymore, so I’ll get rid of her. The K’Dreex were never very effective advisors anyway.” The Goddesses malevolent eyes swung to Anya, who crumbled out of the chair and onto the cold marble floor.
“Enough!” The voice rang out, in triumph. He opened his eyes.
He was standing in a vast fused glass crater, a quarter mile wide, an eighth mile deep. Melted and charred marble blocks on the edge of the crater told him that he stood in the remains of the Temple of Selene. The sky overhead was the blue of a robin’s egg, and the wind was soft against his cheek. There was a faint smell of char in the air. One hundred feet away a woman sat cross legged, wearing a rough pair of men’s blue pants and a slim fitting white shirt. Her feet were bare and she was smiling. It was Selene.
“What?” Jorse tried to say. It came out as a duet. Selene, still smiling, made a vague gesture with her hand.
“What happened?” A voice beside him repeated the exact thing, and Jorse turned to see an a
mazed, solid Anya.
“Jorse!” She was in his arms, her lips glued to his.
“Anya, we shouldn’t...” He began, trying to back up and not succeeding very well.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, children. The thing that you both feared has happened, and now we can move on.” The Goddess had a deep voice for a woman, warm and compelling, and she was smiling widely.
“But...” Anya looked down at her own form, in its blue dress, and then at Jorse standing next to her.
“Oh, I divided up your personas for the moment, and gave them some solidity. It will make living with this easier, until you figure things out. You will both have access to each other’s memories, of course, and feelings; the things that make Jorse, Jorse and Anya, Anya. Eventually you will become one personality, and all that will remain of the old Jorse and the old Anya that are now, is the love they bear for each other. It is, after all, all about love.”
“And this present you wanted me to deliver?” Jorse asked, all bemused. “That was just a ruse, right?”
“Not at all, Jorse. The gift you have in you is a part of me. As you have merged with Anya, eventually you will merge with me, but you are children yet, and you have to grow up, first.”
“My race is a million years old, Goddess. We are hardly children.” Anya’s voice was snippy.
“Children, I am over a million years old.”
Jorse could actually feel Anya draw into him. “And this, ahh, seed is in me?”
“Yes, Jorse.” The voice of the Goddess was calming, comforting now.
“And this seed is also probably in Anya as well?”
“Yes Jorse, very good.” The Goddess was watching him closely.
“Then everyone Anya has twinned with...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes, Jorse. I am in all five K’Dreex, and their hosts, in the known world, but this is a very big world. In time I will gather all my children up to me, and we shall depart.” Her eyes swept upward. “At the Galactic Center there are creatures who guide the very galaxy, as I nudge those on this planet. We shall join with one of them.”
The Corsairs of Aethalia: A Thalassia novel Page 18