They were heading back into the bay, the Lascari having agreed to escort Najdan as close to shore as they themselves were willing to go. They had reluctantly given up the search for Zarien's body, and there was nothing left for Najdan to do now but find Tansen and tell him what had happened. He was ashamed he had failed to protect the boy, but it would only compound his failure now if he postponed informing Tansen of the boy's death.
Suddenly the boat rocked so hard that Linyan and Najdan both had to seize the railing to keep their balance.
"Whatever that is," Linyan said, wide-eyed with alarm, "it's not a dragonfish. There's no—"
The boat rocked again, and now the sea started roaring.
"What's that noise?" Najdan demanded.
"I don't know!"
He looked around. "Where is it coming from?"
"I don't know!"
The women and children were screaming. People on nearby boats were shrieking. The roar turned to a threatening rumble, and the sea around them started churning.
Nothing about this seemed familiar. Najdan asked the old man, "Is this an earthquake?"
They both looked landward at the same time, then looked at each other. Najdan looked back down at the water, even more confused... Then his blood froze. "It's... glowing."
Linyan stared open-mouthed, then shouted to the rest of his family. They all abandoned their posts on the boat and joined him at the railing to stare down at the water with him.
Bewildered and alarmed, Najdan looked out across the sea. The glow which had started near their boat was now spreading like fire, shimmering across the surface, engulfing other boats as far as the eye could see. Even through the liquid rumbling that was filling his head and shaking this boat, he could hear cries of wonder and alarm on other boats.
Had lava traveled from the mainland through underwater channels? Were they about to be engulfed in an eruption at sea?
He clung to the railing of the shuddering boat as he discarded this theory. The glow spreading across the sea was silvery-blue, not the rich orange he would expect of lava spilling into the sea. And if there was an eruption underneath them, wouldn't the water boil and send dead fish bobbing to the surface?
Although the water was churning and the boat was shuddering, they held their position and seemed to be in no imminent danger of capsizing or sinking. And instead of boiling heat, a cool silvery mist was now rising off the water, glimmering gently in the hazy sunshine.
Linyan grasped Najdan's arm, his voice full of hope as he asked, "Could it be Zarien?"
"I have no idea what it could be," Najdan said.
"He came back to life once before. Perhaps... But when he told us about it, he never mentioned... this."
Hope awoke inside of Najdan. If there was even a faint possibility that Tansen's son might be alive...
There was a tremendous roaring sound, so loud it drowned out the screams of people within arm's reach. The boat suddenly dropped, making Najdan's stomach lurch, then it sprang back, as if tossed by a giant hand. He fell down, momentarily stunned. By the time he regained his feet, a vast, foaming pillar of water was rising out of the sea.
Najdan said, "What is th—"
"I don't know," Linyan said in awe.
The women starting wailing rhythmically, and he supposed they were praying. He watched as the pillar rose higher and higher, as if reaching for the sky, until it was so tall it must surely be visible from very far away. His heart quivered in response when the pillar stopped growing and just held itself there, towering over all of them, over the sea and the eastern coast, for long, tense moments.
Was this the work of a waterlord? At sea? Najdan had never heard of such a thing, but... If it was, he had a feeling they'd all be dead within moments.
Then the pillar collapsed, as if a spell had been broken, and the immense tower of water fell back into the sea. The boats were thrown around, rocking wildly, as enormous waves drenched them and washed into their holds. Najdan wiped stinging saltwater out of his eyes and peered at the foaming whirlpool from which the pillar of water had risen.
"Look! There's something there!"
It seemed to shape itself out of the silvery-blue fire still shimmering through the water, emerging from the roiling foam of the tumultuous sea like an enormous bubble of glimmering air. As the glow started to melt away from it, like water pouring off a rock, Najdan realized there was something solid under there. Something shaped like...
"A man."
He nearly flinched when Linyan let out a piercing wail. The rest of the family joined in and, to Najdan's astonishment, the same wail—now turning to a shrill chant—started coming from all of the nearby boats, too.
"What's happening?" Najdan shouted.
They ignored him. Or, rather, didn't even notice him. They were all singing, swaying, shrieking. Tears streamed down Linyan's face. Women raised their arms as if in worship. Children screamed ecstatically and pointed to the man—now clearly just made of flesh—floating in the glowing sea.
The churning of the water gradually subsided, and the boat stopped shuddering. The glow remained upon the sea, but Najdan looked into the distance and could see it slowly fading, retreating to the place from which it had begun. Soon, he guessed, it would be gone altogether.
The man in the water started swimming toward them.
Since no one else seemed capable of rational thought or practical actions at the moment, Najdan threw him a line. The man waved, and Najdan suddenly recognized him.
"Ronall?"
The toren hauled himself aboard, soaking wet, stark naked, and looking dazed.
Najdan stared at him in uncomprehending wonder. "We thought you were dead,"
Ronall shook his head, panting, and shivered a little. "No. I'm... It's me, Najdan! I'm the sea king!"
"Zarien brought him to us!" Linyan cried. "Zarien has delivered the sea king! It's why the sea-born from every coast felt compelled to come to this bay! We were brought here to await the sea king! To witness Toren Ronall's divine rebirth!"
The women were still singing, rocking rhythmically and waving their arms at Ronall, clearly sharing Linyan's view of events.
Najdan said to Linyan, "You, who would not even accept your own grandson any longer because he had walked on land... You accept this man, a drylander, as the sea king?"
Linyan was weeping, though he looked more ecstatic than sad. "Who could deny him? You saw what we saw! What we were brought here to see! Zarien promised him to us! And Zarien brought him here. He is the one!"
Najdan disliked inconsistency, but he had learned by now that there was no point in arguing with people in the grip of religious fervor. "Get the toren a blanket," he snapped.
Shuddering with cold now, Ronall murmured, "Thank you."
"What happened?" Najdan demanded.
"I'm afraid it's true." Ronall started laughing. "I'm..." He laughed again, and it was a surprisingly happy, wholesome sound. "I'm consort to a goddess."
"This is unexpected," Najdan commented, which made Ronall laugh harder.
The toren wrapped himself in a blanket, returned Linyan's enthusiastic embrace, and then asked, "Where's Zarien?"
Najdan went still. "You don't know?"
Ronall frowned. "No, I..." His expression changed. "He's not here?"
Najdan shook his head. "He never came out of the water."
Ronall sat down suddenly, looking shocked. "He can't be dead!"
"He must be, by now. He couldn't survive this long—"
"No," Ronall said. "She didn't say he was dead. I'm sure she wouldn't have let him die."
"Who?"
"Sharifar!"
"A goddess might not—"
"No!" Ronall insisted. "She wouldn't inflict that kind of guilt on me. Zarien brought me here. He was taken by that wave to test me. He was trying to save me the last time I saw him. She knows how I would suffer if he died looking for me."
"Nonetheless—"
"He's alive," Ronall told Najdan.
"I know he is."
The toren didn't sound desperate or afraid. He sounded convinced. Completely sure. Even confident. More so, in fact, than he had ever sounded about anything before.
"She would have saved him," Ronall said. "She would have done that for me. I know."
"The sea is notoriously cruel," Najdan pointed out, wondering exactly what had happened to Ronall in the days and nights he had spent underwater.
"But Sharifar can't be cruel to me, and I need that boy to be alive."
Linyan had stopped singing, and now he chose to venture into the conversation. "Zarien said that when Sharifar spared him after the dragonfish attack..."
"Yes?" Ronall prodded.
"She sent him ashore. If she has saved him now, perhaps she has sent him ashore again. He is no longer, you know, one of us."
Najdan and Ronall looked at each other.
"We're going ashore," Ronall said decisively.
Linyan flinched. "What?"
"We're all going ashore," he added.
"But we're sea-bound!"
"The time for living completely separate from the landfolk has passed," Ronall told him. "The sea-born must learn to care about what happens on land in this country. You can't contribute to Sileria's future if you continue to live as you have lived until now." He paused. "The world is changing, and you must change with it."
The Lascari looked shocked. Najdan was impressed by the air of conviction and command which the toren, previously so confused and ineffectual, now assumed with surprising ease. But Najdan had lived long enough in the Society to understand what best motivated a doubtful and recalcitrant people when faced with new challenges.
He took his shir in hand and held it to Linyan's throat. "We are going ashore as the sea king orders," he explained, "or else feeding your remains to a dragonfish. Which would you prefer?"
As Najdan expected, the old man made the choice with alacrity.
"What is that?"
Tansen, who carried the baby on his back, looked to where Elelar was pointing. From their vantage point in the cliffs, as they descended to the bay, they had a magnificent view of the sea. When he saw what she saw—the sea on fire with a silvery-blue light, and an immense tower of water rising out of the bay—he felt his stomach give a sickening lurch.
"Mirabar," he said, hearing the fear in his voice.
"I don't know," she replied instantly.
"Could a waterlord do that?" Faradar asked.
Tansen wondered, "Could it be..." Zarien... So soon? "The work of a sea goddess?"
As they watched, the pillar collapsed. The sea was chaotic for a few long, awful moments, with boats rocking and bouncing on the water's surface. Then relative calm descended, and the silvery glow started to fade gradually from the sea.
"Whatever it was," Mirabar said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "it doesn't look like anyone died from it."
One of the many people traveling with them, though, pointed to the coastal beach directly below them. "People have died here, though. Look at that mess."
Tansen thought he would be sick. The shore was a wasteland of smashed and shattered boats, stranded people... and corpses.
"Let's hurry." His voice sounded far away and flat. "I want to find him before dark."
No one needed to ask whom he meant.
There was nothing. And then—quite suddenly—there was pain. The contrast, the stunning instant journey from a dark empty void to such vivid sensation, was as startling as the pain itself.
"Argh!"
Water flooded his throat. He choked on it, then got slammed against a rock again—which made him inhale again, which made him start strangling again.
What in the Fires...
Dazed, confused, and probably about to drown, he had sense enough to cling to the next rock he was smashed against, rather than letting the sea continue to toss him around like flotsam.
It dawned on him that there shouldn't be any rocks here. They were well out to sea...
"Agh!"
Nonetheless, he realized, these were definitely rocks he was being flung against. And he was pretty sure he was bleeding now.
Zarien hung there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath and gather his senses. He remembered seeing a boat, slapped around by a huge wave, careen into Ronall and send him under, unconscious and perhaps already dead. Zarien remembered diving repeatedly, searching for him, unwilling to accept that Ronall had finally found the death which, in a way, it had always seemed he was half-seeking—might even consider a release, a relief. But the sea-born did not easily give up their dead to the merciless waters on which they lived. And besides, Zarien liked Ronall and was sorry he hadn't shown it more. So he kept diving beneath the roaring, tumbling surface of the furious sea. Until...
I got... caught in a wave.
He remembered now. The waves had been so enormous, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, even in the worst of storms. One had swept him up, denying him air, oblivious to his attempts to escape its immense power. He remembered the burning in his lungs, the weakening of his limbs, the terrible fear as he realized...
I was dying.
Had the wave carried him this far? All the way to shore? Even if it had, how had he survived? It didn't seem possible. He couldn't remember anything that had happened after the burning in his lungs led to a blackness in his head which finally engulfed him.
Now he became aware of something bumping gently but insistently against his back. One of his hands let go of the rock and fumbled behind him. His blood ran cold when he touched it and instantly recognized what it was.
Zarien took a few harsh breaths, then willed himself to grasp the oar. He flung it up onto the shore, then laboriously hauled himself out of the water, climbing up after it. He rested on his hands and knees, panting hard, and stared at it.
It was the stahra which Sharifar had given him when she sent him ashore for the first time, in search of the sea king.
He suspected he had died again. And she had spared him a second time. Why? So he would bring Tansen to her? Well, he never would! Never.
Zarien's head was pounding and he couldn't think clearly. He was also dying of thirst. How long had he been in the water?
How long have I been dead?
Zarien rose to his feet, shaking in reaction, and looked down at the stahra.
"No, Sharifar. I won't do it."
She should have killed him when she had the chance. He turned his back on the stahra and walked away from it, turning his back on Sharifar, too.
He supposed that was foolish. He'd probably have to go right back to sea to find out what had happened to Najdan and the Lascari, and then Sharifar would take her revenge on him. He tried not to think about it, though, because he would not pick up that stahra and renew his pact with her. He would not.
As Tansen would say, focus on the task at hand.
Which, for now, meant finding water. He felt very disoriented, but he could tell he'd washed ashore at the southern end of the bay, well beyond where people were counting the dead and gathering to mourn their losses. He wasn't familiar with this coast, but he let his senses lead him, and soon he found what he sought—a small pool of sweetwater gathered in the rocks well beyond the shore.
He drank his fill, then realized he'd need to find someone with an intact boat who could take him back out into the bay in search of the Lascari. Tired and depressed, he started wandering among the sea-born stragglers, making his way along the shore, asking for news about the Lascari and for a boat to take him to them. It seemed he did this for a very long time, wearing himself out, before someone finally encouraged him.
"You're looking for the Lascari?" said a deep voice behind him.
"Yes!" he whirled to face the man. "Do you know what's happened to them? Or can you take me..."
His voice trailed off and his head felt light as he took in the man's appearance. Tall, short-haired, powerful looking. His clothes were well-made, and he was handsome despite the long scar running
down one cheek.
Zarien choked on his shock and started stumbling backwards. "Searlon."
"Ah. Zarien, I presume? I've been looking for you for a long time."
"Stay away from me!"
Someone asked them, "Is there a problem here?"
"Yes!" Zarien said.
"The boy is upset," Searlon said smoothly, gesturing to the sea. "His family, you know."
"Of course," said the sea-born stranger, moving on.
"Wait!" Zarien wanted to run after him, but he was afraid to turn his back on Searlon.
"I won't hurt you." The assassin stood still.
No one else came close to them. Perhaps they sensed how dangerous Searlon was?
Zarien said, "I saw what you did to my family!"
"They aren't your family," Searlon said gently. "Not anymore. They told me you were dead. Zarien, they wanted you to be dead."
"No, they—"
"Tansen will want you dead, too, when he knows the truth."
"He won't!"
Searlon's dark gaze sharpened. "Then you know?"
"No!" Zarien shouted, feeling naked before this stranger. "I don't know anything!"
"You do know," Searlon said with certainty, still not moving. "Does Tansen know yet? Has he already tried to kill you? Is that why you're wandering alone and unprotec—"
"Kill me? No!"
"He doesn't know, does he? But he'll find out, you know." Searlon warned him, "In the end, he will find out."
"No," Zarien said, and then was sorry he'd spoken. "I mean..."
"There's still time for you to escape him. I can help."
"No, you've come to kill me! He's been protecting me from you!"
"That's what he thinks, but only because he doesn't yet know who you are," said Searlon. "I know, and I want to help."
"No, you don't!" He should run away, not stand here rooted to the ground and talking to this assassin. But he couldn't. He was too terrified to move. "I've heard how clever you are. You'll trick me, and then when I don't expect—"
"You're still a boy, and I am very good at what I do," Searlon said, his expression kind. "I don't need to trick you to kill you. I haven't come for that. I've come to protect you from Tansen."
The Destroyer Goddess Page 48