The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One

by T. J. Garrett

  “Yes, well, they still blame you. Some of them, at any rate. You know what it’s like; everyone knows about the Power, but when someone uses it in their town…”

  “Like I said, ignorant fools. They should know we only use the Power and the Voice for good, and if sometimes there’s a little collateral damage… Well, it’s to be expected, isn’t it? It is called the Power.”

  “I suppose,” Anooni said. Then laughed. “Like when you made that tidal wave and put out the fires. That was certainly powerful.”

  “The tidal wave,” Elspeth whispered, gazing out at the mist of the near horizon. She could still see the lights on the Tower Ship. “Of course.”

  Abruptly, Elspeth stood. She reached out a hand and helped Anooni up, then hugged the woman.

  “My friend,” Elspeth said. “You are a very clever young lady.”

  She left Anooni standing on the cliff’s edge and started back to camp.

  “Clever?” Anooni shouted. “Why am I clever?”

  “Tidal wave,” Elspeth said over her shoulder.

  She left the words hanging in the air as she walked back to camp. Absently, she wondered if, by tomorrow night, there might be more folk calling her a demon.

  CHAPTER 25

  Attack on the Tower Ship

  Zill stood on the raised platform at the far end of what she had begun to call the conduit room. All seemed well. It was approaching dark outside, the wet witches who had been working through the daylight hours were heading out one door, while those who would work during the night entered through another. Which was as it should be, and yet Lady Zill could not push away the feeling that something was very wrong. She had barely slept the previous night, and what she managed was full of evil dreams. Prelli, the herbalist who brewed her sleep potion, said it was likely nerves, but Zill was not so sure. It was those sores keeping her awake. Or rather, it was the foul essence of death which had caused the sores to appear.

  She had known this would happen, that the life drained from the wet witches would feed the machine, and that part of what was left would accumulate in the mist surrounding the ship, but she had not thought the effects would come on so quickly. Indeed, she already looked as bad as some of the wet witches, and many of them had been on the ship a full month longer than she had.

  It is because you are more powerful, she told herself. It will pass. As soon as you enter the gateway, the sores will begin to heel. Stop worrying; a few more hours, that’s all. You can wait that long.

  But did they have a few more hours?

  In truth, she would have liked to keep all her day witches back, have both groups work this final shift, but there simply was not enough room for all the wet witches to have a place by the conduit.

  Zill sat in her chair, where she could watch in comfort, and sighed heavily. What was she doing here? She did not have to risk having part of her life force sucked out into the mist. She could have stayed on the island, or gone to Raff and spent the last ten days in a comfortable inn. There was no need to watch over every stage of her plan – she had the Kel’mau, and her red ladies would keep an eye on the witches.

  She touched the big sore on her neck and wished she had done just that. With a sense of longing, she wondered how nice it would be to wake up to a view of the cliffs rather than the dull mist that greeted her each morning. She could have eaten fresh food, walked the cliff path, maybe had a dance or two with a handsome man. But no, she just had to sit there and watch, didn’t she?

  You should trust folk more, she told herself. Karloth isn’t so bad; you could have trusted him to get you this far.

  Yes, she would have come to the ship eventually, but all until today had been preparation – and the same preparation day after day: the day witches would feed the conduit, and when they went off to bed, the night witches would carry on in their place. Simple, they hardly needed her presence to ensure the machine was full.

  Zill felt a tap on her shoulder.

  “Thought you were going to get some sleep,” she said as Karloth sat in the chair beside her.

  “I tried. It didn’t work.”

  “Nervous?” Zill said.

  As soon as the word left her mouth, she wished she had not said it. She was being far too familiar, and likely admitting to Karloth that she, too, was nervous.

  What’s the harm in him knowing? It will all be over in a few hours. I will have all the Godstones and the means to alter the Balance; so what if the thought makes me anxious.

  Karloth took in a long breath. “A little,” he said. “I think we should wait. At least until tomorrow. One more day will make no mind, other than it might be enough time to fill the machine.”

  Zill rubbed at her temple. Why could he not just do as he was told?

  “We’ve been through this,” she said. “There is more than enough Power in the machine to open the gate. I am going tonight. Please don’t question me again, I have enough on my mind without you repeating yourself every hour.”

  Karloth straightened his tunic. Looking out over the conduit, he said, “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Like you say, I’m nervous.”

  Now that was a surprise; she had not expected Karloth to actually say the word.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked. “Has one of the guards said something? Someone from the village, maybe?”

  Karloth shrugged, then, lips pursed, he nodded. “Nothing you can point a finger at, but the local merchant has sold a month’s supply of dried beef in less than a week, and there was no tea. Worse, the guards stationed at the gates say they have seen no one this last few days. Not even a passing shepherd. It’s as if the locals know to keep clear of the gateways. I don’t like it. If it were down to me, I would wrap up our business and use the guards from the ship to search Raff and the surrounding forest.”

  Zill folded her arms. Forcing her annoyance deep into her belly, she said, “Three hours, Karloth. It will all be over in three hours. Enough talk of delays. Double the guard if you must, but we proceed with the plan as it is. I will not wait. Indeed, if you are right about the rebels, better we do go now, while it is dark out. If that boy told them of what he heard; they will not want to attack the ship by night. They will know about the gas, and what might happen if the machine is damaged.”

  “And if they don’t know? If the boy did not tell them everything?” Karloth said. “Their ignorance could destroy us all, and half the island.”

  Zill slapped the chair arm. Standing, she said, “I can’t listen to this. You are like a parrot, forever repeating the same sentence. No, do not speak. I’m going up for some air.”

  Zill regarded the man. When she was sure of his silence, she nodded, then left him sitting in his chair. “Keep an eye on the witches,” she told him as she opened the door. “If one falls, make sure she is replaced.”

  With that, she left.

  The top of the tower was the only place for a mile around which was above the mist. Zill stood, leaning against the rail, looking out at the lights from the village. Raff seemed quiet, and there were no campfires in the surrounding hills. Karloth was wrong; there were no rebels gathering for an attack. She looked to her left, at the small, uninhabited island where they kept their supplies. There were no fires there, either.

  “Damn that man,” Zill whispered. “He’s got me staring at shadows. Bad enough I can’t sleep for seeing that demon, he fills my waking hours with worry, too.”

  She would not let his words affect her decision. There were no rebels, there were no demons hiding in her dreams, and the machine would not blow up and kill them all. She would create a tunnel to the past, she would go through the gate, and she would find the Godstone – everything would work out just as she hoped.

  She sighed. If that were true, then why did her mind feel like clay? Why were her hands shaking? “And why does it feel like all the rings of hell are opening up around me?”

  * * *

  Elspeth sat at the bow of the small rowboat. York and three of his volunte
ers were rowing as quietly as four men in a boat could row. They had left the small island maybe twenty minutes ago, and were approaching the mist. Elspeth could see the black tower sticking up above the mist, and if she squinted over York’s shoulder, she could just about see the beach on the small island where the others would be waiting to take the wet witches off the ship – assuming everything went to plan, that was.

  “Is this far enough?” York said.

  “Maybe a little further,” Elspeth said. “I want to make sure the ship is between us and the island.”

  “If we go much further,” York said, “we’ll be in the mist. You won’t see anything.”

  That was true. From where she sat, most of the black tower was above the mist. If they moved closer, even that landmark would be obscured, and there would be no hope of seeing the beach.

  When they had rowed out to the island earlier that evening, the circle of mist was a thin fog, stretching from a few yards off the island all the way to the rocky cliffs west of Raff. Now, the mist was a tight ring around the Tower Ship; as if the ship were somehow wrapping a blanket of fog around itself. It made rowing out from the island easier, but if Elspeth wanted to get any closer, she would lose her target.

  “I suppose this will have to do,” Elspeth said. “I just hope the water is deep enough.”

  “Why does it matter how deep the water is? You’re lifting the ship, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Elspeth said. “I’m not strong enough to lift a ship. The wave will do that. I’m just nudging it in the right direction.”

  “But isn’t that the same as lifting the ship? Can’t you just tell the wave where to—”

  “No, I can’t tell the wave where to go. I can just start it, and hope it goes where I want. If the water isn’t deep enough, the wave will just crash against the hull – just like any other wave. I need a surge, big enough the carry the whole lot over to the beach. And for that…”

  “You need deep water,” York finished.

  “Yes,” Elspeth said.

  “So, we won’t know if it will work until you try.”

  “No, we won’t,” Elspeth admitted. She tried not to show her annoyance. Bad enough she had her own worries, she did not need York’s doubt piled on top. “You just concentrate on holding us here. I don’t want to drift away. I’ll start as soon as we see the signal.”

  She turned on the narrow bench, so she could see both the ship and the clifftop west of Raff. When the others were ready, Anooni would Send a message to Sansi, and she would light the signal fire. Assuming everyone could see it, the rescue of the wet witches would begin.

  “Gods, I wish Trapper was here.”

  “What was that?” York asked.

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  * * *

  “Something is happening,” Nini said.

  They were standing high up on the beach, the island forest at their back. Olivia had ordered the group to move twice, so she could see the signal fire as soon as it was lit. She had been staring at that clifftop for a good ten minutes.

  “Of course something is happening,” she said. “We are about to attack a ship full of Kel’mau.”

  “I don’t mean us,” Nini said. “Something is happening to the ship. Look.”

  He was right. The mist was thickening into a perfect sphere encircling the bottom half of the black tower. The prow, which had been covered by fog a few minutes earlier, was now clearly visible.

  “Now what?” Olivia said.

  “It’s the machine,” Juran said. “It’s getting ready to do whatever it’s going to do. We should hurry. Where’s Anooni?”

  “She’s over by the rocks,” Olivia said. “And calm down, you don’t know if it’s the machine; it could be Lady Zill controlling the wind, or something.”

  “Controlling the wind? Why would she want to do that? Unless she knows we are here? Either way, we should hurry. Send the message direct to Elspeth, don’t wait for—”

  A flash of blue light illuminated the fog, showing the ship in stark relief. Even from the island, Olivia could hear the crack, as if a bolt of lightning had struck the beach.

  Instinctively, Olivia took a step back into the trees as another flash lit up the Tower Ship.

  “That wasn’t the wind,” Nini said. “And it wasn’t the witch, either; she would not bring lightning down on her own vessel.”

  The air had gone suddenly thick, like a mid-summer afternoon. All around, the trees seemed to sigh at the sudden gust of warm air. Olivia could hear birds chirping – which was impossible: even if it was summer, it was the middle of the night. There was the scent of wheat chaff, and something that smelled like honey cake. The mist had tightened to a thick ball. Now, it looked like part of the deck, some white sphere attached to the base of the black tower. Waves of blue light rolled across the mist. It immediately put Olivia in mind of the Godstone shards. Only here, there was only the one colour – a pale blue.

  “What is she doing?” Olivia whispered.

  “Never mind what she is doing,” Juran said. “Call Elspeth.”

  “Yes,” Olivia said, gathering her wits. “Yes, you ààare right, I should call Elspeth.”

  She closed her eyes and reached for the Voice.

  * * *

  “What in all the hells was that?” York growled.

  Elspeth, who had just barely managed to stay in the boat, straightened her skirt. “Why are you asking me?” she said, a touch of anger in her voice. Honestly, did the man think she knew everything?

  The Tower Ship, once obscured by the fog, was now a sharp silhouette, the huge ball of bright mist casting all else into shadow. When the lightning struck – if it was lightning, Elspeth wasn’t sure – the rowboat seemed to sink down into the water, like there were suddenly ten more people sitting in it. Another push, and they would have sunk. Now, the sea was calm, flat, like an inland lake in the middle of summer. Elspeth could hear birds, and in the distance…

  No, that can’t be a wagon, we’re a mile from the island.

  “I think maybe you should not wait for the signal,” York said.

  “I think your right,” Elspeth said.

  But just as she closed eyes, ready to summon the wave, she heard Olivia’s Voice.

  Do it now, Elspeth. Don’t wait for the signal fire.

  Elspeth did not bother with a reply – the wave would be answer enough.

  “You should hurry,” York said. “Something is happening to the ship.”

  Elspeth opened her eyes. York was right; the ship was… fading away. It was still there, but all the colour had gone from the sphere, and the black timbers of the tower were now a light grey. Worse, above the tower, another sphere was forming. Much smaller than the first, this sphere was a tight ball of light, not mist. As it formed, the new sphere began to fall toward the tower. Absently, Elspeth wondered what would happen when the new sphere met the old. Nothing good, no doubt.

  She closed her eyes.

  When she pulled the silver curtain to the side, Elspeth saw both the spheres. They were purple, and pulsing like burning coals under a bellows. The one at the bottom, the big sphere, was pulsing slowly, but getting faster as the smaller sphere approached.

  Elspeth remembered what Nerys had said about the lights she saw beyond the silver curtain, and that those lights could only belong to living spirits. Knowing that, she tried not to think what seeing the light from those two spheres could mean – how could mist be alive?

  Gathering her Voice, she concentrated on the sea around and beneath her.

  The last time Elspeth made a wave, she had been outraged at the death of Taomi. Looking around at the oddly calm ocean, she hoped she would not need to be angry to make another one – she was too scared to feel anger.

  Come on, Elspeth, she told herself. How did you do it last time?

  It had not occurred to her she might not remember how to make a wave. Sudden fear raked at her throat. They were all counting on her, they
were all waiting for her to do her part. What if she could not beach the ship? Could they still attack? What would happen to the wet witches if she failed?

  Fear gave way to panic as she frantically tried to recall what she had done before. She should have practiced. She should have found a small lake somewhere, or gone to the river, made sure she could do it again. Of all the stupid—

  You made the water think it was a wave, a little voice said.

  It was a distant thought, surrounded by all the emotion of losing Taomi, like remembering a dream. It was there, it was real, but Elspeth could not grasp the whole of it.

  She could hear York talking. He was asking her something. She ignored him, and tried to gather her strength.

  Nothing.

  It’s there, she told herself. It’s there, but I cannot touch it.

  Again, she tried to pull the Power toward her, and once again, nothing happened.

  “Hurry, girl,” York said, forced calm in his voice. “That ship isn’t going to be there much longer, if you are going to do—”

  “York, would you please stop talking.”

  “I would, but it’s—”

  “York!”

  Elspeth opened her eyes. “I need to concentrate. Just sit quietly and make sure you keep the ship between us and the beach.”

  York mumbled something she did not hear, and Elspeth closed her eyes.

  She pushed the silver curtain to one side. The smaller of the two spheres was barely its own width away from the other. Both had turned a deep red, and were pulsing at very nearly the same pace. Elspeth tried to ignore them. Instead, she concentrated on the water.

  You must place the thought in the water, the little voice from her memory said.

  And how am I supposed to do that? Water can’t think.

  Think of it as the Power – Earth, Air, Water, Spirit. Place your thought in the Power.

  That made more sense, she supposed. She turned to her water Voice and spoke to the sea.

  “Hurry, girl!” York’s growling command came as if from a mile away.

  Suddenly, it was as if Elspeth had her hands on a rope. With an oddly familiar sense of pulling something, she dragged the water toward her. The knowledge of what she was doing made her head spin, and she grabbed for the side of the boat.