by A. R. Cook
“Did he say ‘ghost’?” asked Desert Rain, since half the time she couldn’t understand Gank’s loud squealings.
“He means the Banshee,” Goude said, making an expression that was somewhere between a wry grin and a snarl. “Plucks sailors right outta their boats and sucks out their souls.” He reached over and gave Gank a poke, causing him to jump with a scream. Goude laughed as Gank ran to hide behind Desert Rain.
“It’s a rumor we heard,” Gimch said. “Word down in the Bayou is that some fishers went out to sea one morning and never came back. All they found were their boat washed up on shore. They say a water spirit got them.”
“GHOST THAT SCREAMS!” Gank shrieked, clinging to Desert Rain’s tunic.
Theye heard the wailing again. Even Chiriku looked uneasy.
Gabriel took in the sound for a minute, and then chuckled. “What you’re hearing are siren fish,” he called to the others. “They’re noisy but no bigger than a thumb. I used to hear them all the time when I worked on other ships.”
“Nah, it’s the Banshee,” Goude insisted, sneaking over to where Gank was hiding. “And it likes to suck the souls out of scaredy-babies!”
Gank whimpered and clung tighter to Desert Rain. The Hijn patted his head gently. “It’s okay. No ghost is going to get you,” she said to Gank. She gave Goude a stern look.
Goude snorted. “Eh, you’re no fun. Stupid baby, scared of everything.” He strolled back to his spot and sat down.
“Not a baby…” Gank whimpered, sniffling.
“It’s siren fish,” Gabriel reitereated, more strongly this time. He went back to looking out over the ocean, manning the wheel.
The next two days went by without incident. The weather remained calm, although the days were overcast with white-gray clouds. The winds were sometimes unpredictable, being fierce one moment and almost dead the next. It became colder, and Desert Rain spent a good deal of time below deck to stay warm. Mac had been able to coax Roeda Vermin to let them borrow a couple of coats, but they were either too big or too threadbare. The Vermin Brothers, when not being ordered around by Gabriel, passed the time by playing their game of bones. Mac had overcome his queasiness by now, and spent his time jotting down thoughts on scraps of paper he found lying around. Chiriku, however, was still wobbily on her feet, and stayed below deck most of time dreaming that she was back on land. Gabriel was constantly going about one thing or another, and anyone else by now would have been run ragged. He did not show the slightest sign of fatigue, and not once did he complain.
Then came the fog.
Gabriel was on deck at the time. It started to drizzle, so everyone else went down below. Desert Rain offered to take over the steering for him, but he saw how she shivered from the ocean wind and rain, so he gave her the task of untangling some ropes so she could stay below and have something to do. He was tired by now, so his vision was a little blurry, but he remained vigilant and alert, hands firm on the wheel.
He thought, for a second, that he must really be out of it. The ocean was starting to look hazy to him. He could not even make out the individual waves anymore. Then he realized it was not his vision, but a blanket of fog had settled over the waters. The fog spread out for as far as he could see, like a field of gray fuzz. He could not imagine why he had not seen this fog coming. It had suddenly risen around him. He watched as the haze rose higher, coming up to the railing on the broadsides.
“Desert Rain, come up here,” he called. He knew that no matter where she was, her sensitive ears would pick up his call.
Desert Rain appeared quickly. She had thrown on a coat, one that was far too large for her, so it dragged behind her. She was startled to see the sudden fog, but she said nothing of it as she went up to Gabriel. “Yes, do you want me to take over now?”
“No, I want you to look over the side of the boat and tell me if you see or hear anything strange.”
Desert Rain did as he asked. “I really can’t see anything through this fog,” she replied. “Did you hear something coming from below?”
“No. But this fog came up from the ocean instead of coming down from above.”
“That is odd, isn’t it?” Desert Rain reached a hand into the fog, and instantly her arm was soaking, as if she had touched the ocean itself. “I don’t think this is fog. It’s more like steam, but it’s not hot.”
“It’s mist,” Gabriel concluded. “Do you see anything splashing around below?”
“I don’t see or hear anything. Should we keep sailing through this? We might hit a rock or something, don’t you think?”
“We’re far enough out to sea that we shouldn’t be hitting anything that would damage the ship. But I’ll lower the sails for now.” He left the wheel, which Desert Rain took over instinctively. After he lowered the sails, he came back. “You can go back down below now.”
“You’ve been at the wheel all day. Besides, we won’t be going much of anywhere with the sails down. You should go rest.”
“It’s all right. I can keep going.” He began to push her away from the wheel, but she didn’t budge.
Desert Rain narrowed her eyes at him. “You train us to be crew on this boat, and then you don’t want help from any of us. It won’t do any good if you overwork yourself.”
“I can handle it,” he retorted.
“But we’re in this together. Maybe you’re used to doing everything yourself, but trust me, okay?”
It was Gabriel who now narrowed his eyes on Desert Rain. “The fact is, I’m the only one on this boat who really knows what he’s doing. Let me handle this, and quit being so difficult all the time.”
Desert Rain couldn’t believe he said that. “You’re the one being difficult! I thought you trusted me. You showed me your scars, and I thought that meant—”
“It meant nothing. Don’t ever mention anything about my scars again.” He shoved her away and grasped the wheel in both hands. Then, of course, he remembered the boat really wasn’t moving much, so he slackened his grip and leaned wearily on the wheel.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” he heard Desert Rain say.
He turned to her. Her eyes were full of sympathy, and he didn’t like that. “I’m not hiding anything,” he argued.
“I know how you feel. I know how easy it is to hide, because you feel like people are staring at you, judging you. I mean, you’re talking to the weirdest-looking person in all Luuva Gros. I’ve spent a lot of time hiding. Sooner or later, you’re going to need to trust people who want to help you.” She placed a hand on his arm.
He jerked his arm away. “I don’t have to trust anyone.”
Desert Rain was not hurt by this. She understood, because she had been where Gabriel was. She had not always believed in what she said—she had trusted people who ended up betraying her. She could at least offer Gabriel that chance, and she wouldn’t betray him. He had to know that.
She reached up towards his hat. He stepped back from her.
“Do you think because you’re a Hijn, you can do whatever you want and I should be fine with it?” he asked.
Desert Rain felt the brunt of that statement. “You no longer have to hide from me, because you know I won’t laugh or judge you. If you really do believe in honor, like I think you do, then by my honor, I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
Gabriel was quiet. Desert Rain couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but eventually he shook his head. “Why do you treat me this way? Do you think these words of empathy will move me?”
“I’m not trying to move you. I’m being honest. Is that a concept so beyond you?”
Gabriel stared coldly at her. His gaze softened, his rigidness loosened. He looked away. “If you want my trust, you’ll have to earn it,” he said.
Desert Rain sighed, but acquiesced. “All right. It’s nice to know there’s a person beneath that mask.”
Gabriel gave her a questioning look.
“Hat!” Desert Rain quickly corrected herself. “Beneath that hat.”
Silence prevailed for a minute, and then Gabriel placed his hands on Desert Rain’s shoulders. “Look, Desert Rain, I—”
The ship suddenly lurched wildly. Both Desert Rain and Gabriel lost their balance and fell to the floor, and she landed on top of him. Neither of them had noticed that by now, the thick, blinding mist engulfed the entire ship, and they were drenching wet. Then they heard a wailing, but not like from the night before. This was far horribler, ghastlier, and it was definitely not fish. It was a symphony of very real, very close, moans of pain and despair.
“What in the Eternal Deep is going on?” they heard Chiriku call and the sound of footsteps, but they couldn’t see her. “Holy buzzards, what’s with the fog?”
“We’re over here, Chiriku!” Desert Rain called to her, and she slowly got up and made her way off the quarterdeck and towards the staircase leading to the lower deck. She literally bumped into Chiriku, who had been running her way.
The ship lurched again, tipping dangerously to one side. Gabriel grasped the wheel to keep his balance, but Desert Rain and Chiriku went sliding across the deck. They both caught the side railing before they were pitched overboard. There was the sound of vicious waves slapping against the boat, and that moaning was growing louder. A stampede of footsteps was heard coming up the stairs.
“Now that is the nastiest-tkk sound I’ve ever heard.” Mac’s voice was heard over the roar of the ocean. “Good bog, are we under water or something? I can barely breathe up here!”
“GHOSTS!” Gank shrieked.
“Shut up, pipsqueak!” Goude growled.
Gabriel tried to turn the wheel but found it to be stuck tight. “I don’t get it. There’s no wind, no sign of a storm. There must be something under the boat jamming the—”
The moaning stopped. Silence.
The boat slowed its rocking, and the sea became instantly calm. Yet the mist stayed as blinding, smothering them like levitating rain droplets. Desert Rain could barely see Chiriku standing next to her, yet her blindness sharpened her other senses. There was a faint noise—wood creaking under pressure.
She heard something grasp onto the railing beside her, and thud quietly onto the deck.
“Chiriku…” she whispered almost inaudibly, “someone came on the boat.”
“What?” Chiriku asked, rather loudly.
Desert Rain squeezed Chiriku’s arm tight to quiet her. “Something…is on…the boat…”
Chiriku was suddenly torn from her grasp, and the Quetzalin made a startled squawk as she vanished in the blanket of mist. Desert Rain heard Gank’s squealing, but this time it was blood-curdling urgent. He was accompanied by shouts from his brothers, and several Bayou curses from Mac.
Desert Rain remained utterly frozen. She could hear the pounding footsteps of frantic running, the shouting, and some guttural snarling. Every sound sent bolts of panic throughout her body, and she clung to the railing. She wondered if she should take her chances and jump into the ocean, but she had no clue what was happening to her friends, and she could not leave them.
Then she got to meet the intruders face to face.
Something snagged the back of her coat with its talon-like fingers, and with a sharp tug pulled her off the railing and sent her flat onto her back. Her assailant was over her, its face—if you could even call it a face—hovering over her own. A dark bile seeped from its mouth, and it was so awful in smell, Desert Rain felt the acidic taste of vomit rise in her throat.
There was no way to truly describe that face staring down at her. It was not human, not animal, not anything natural. The skin was gnarled into something other than wrinkles or folds; it was more like bark or twisted tangles of bloody ropes. There were no lips on that face, and the protruding teeth were filed to sharp black points. Patches of muscle showed on the cheeks in bright blood red. What should have been hair was more like a mess of tentacles, and every feature was awash in a purple-green tone.
But the eyes—the creature’s sunken eyes were so human, and so full of pain…
The creature fell off her in a blur of movement, and Desert Rain heard the swift snap of bone breaking. A hand reached down and pulled Desert Rain to her feet, and she was now face to face with a more comforting visage—Gabriel’s.
“Where’s Chiriku?” he asked.
Desert Rain was about to reply that she had no clue as to the whereabouts of anyone, when she heard that bone-chilling snarl again. Three silhouettes came up to them, solidifying in shape and color as they approached. They were as horrid in appearance as the creature that had assaulted Desert Rain, their contorted bodies even worse than their faces. Gabriel jutted his battlestaff at them, but the creatures snapped at them, charged them, forced them to back away. Desert Rain and Gabriel bumped into something behind them—it was the Vermin brothers.
Gank was hysterical by this point, and Goude had to hold him in his arms to keep him from running around like a maniac. “GHOSTS!!” Gank wailed. “THEY WANT TO EAT OUR SOULS!!”
“Get that moron to shut up, will you?” Chiriku’s voice penetrated the mist, and soon the Quetzalin and Mac bumped into the group as well.
They were now all together, clumped in a tight bunch. Desert Rain could hear the moaning and snarling all around them. The creatures did not attack but closed in to tighten the group. They were surrounded.
“Now what-tkk?” Mac asked, gulping hard.
“We fight,” Gabriel answered.
“But why aren’t they attacking us?” Desert Rain asked.
“And where in the Eternal Deep did they come from?” Chiriku inquired. “Did they crawl out of the ocean or something?”
The mist thinned substantially with a whispered word, a word unlike any from the common languages of Luuva Gros. Desert Rain knew that ancient language, and her breath stopped short. She looked towards the direction of that whispering voice, and she could make out a silhouetted figure standing on the deck in front of them.
“Who are you?” Gabriel shouted to the figure. He gripped his battlestaff in both hands. “Whoever you are, you have picked the wrong vessel to board—”
“Gabriel, wait!” Desert Rain steadied herself, waiting as the mist faded away, clearing the stifling air. The features and shades of the figure and the surrounding creatures came into focus. There were seven of those creatures before them—excluding one that was lying dead with a broken neck, thanks to Gabriel—and they became more terrifying as they became clearer to see. They moaned and groaned in agony, like the undead of legend. The other figure, the one who banished the mist, stood silently, his irises wine-red, the whites of his eyes blood-shot. He was tall and lanky, draped in shell-adorned clothing. The foam-white hair was matted and wild, and areas of the sea-blue skin were stained with what looked like purple handprints, the flesh bruised and twisted. Disturbing violet stains bled from the man’s nose, ears, lips, and corners of his eyes. His stance was that of a wounded predator ready to pounce.
Desert Rain gasped, “Merros!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Water, Wind and Light
Merros stared silently at Desert Rain. His contorted expression wrinkled his face into a morbid mask, obliterating the composed features the Ocean Rider normally displayed. His flesh spasmed where his skin and joints had been tainted by Distortion, pinched tight or pulled out of shape. His breathing was irregular, his exhales labored and clogged with fluid.
His deformities were nothing compared to the entourage with him. They were the products of the most frightening, macabre, twisted imagination. They all shared the purple-green bruised tones, the gnarled skin, they exposed patches of bloody muscle and bone. They all also had what looked like gills, having been specifically shaped to perform aquatic tasks to suit Merros’s needs. From there, they were all bizarrely different, molds of clay shaped into living nightmares that would make any of the Wretched jump out of their skins. Fins, claws, tentacles, muzzles, beaks, spikes, scales, tails, and appendages not yet labeled sprouted from every conceivabl
e place. Their howls were heart-piercing, rendering anyone who listened petrified. They scraped their malformed claws on the wooden deck, and gnashed their horrid, blood-stained teeth.
“What are those things?” Chiriku gasped. Her beak was turning green in nausea.
Desert Rain knew what they were. She had seen this before, with the elven knights in Syphurius, and, of course, on her own body. The words of the deceased Valdrase echoed in her head.
“His Distorted,” she answered. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Merros, do you know who I am? Do you remember me?”
Merros did not appear to hear her. He raised his hands, speaking broken words of Dragontongue. His chant was hesitant, pain-filled, but the imprint of the coiling serpent on the palm of his hand glowed nonetheless. From that imprint, tendrils of water flowed, winding like transparent threads towards the captives. It began to entwine them, weaving into an encasing bubble, spreading around them into an egg-shaped barrier.
The rumor the Vermins had heard was true. There was something stealing fishermen off their boats, and it was Merros, bringing them to Katawa to be turned into Distorted. Merros was obviously still under Katawa’s mind manipulation. What was Katawa making him do this for? Was Merros even aware who it was he was capturing right now?
“I don’t-tkk know what that fellow is up to,” Mac said, “but I say we need a plan here.”
Chiriku drew forth her Warhammer and swung at the bubble. The enchanted barrier did not give the first time, but the second swing broke the bubble with a loud burst. She beaned one of the Distorted smack in the head, and then made a running charge at Merros.
“Chiriku, stop!” Desert Rain shouted.
It was too late. Chiriku lost her footing on the slippery deck, and Merros turned his hand on her, sending a rock-hard blast of water straight at her. The Quetzalin went flying in the vicious torrent, and it slammed her against the mast of the boat. The water blast lingered on her to the near point of drowning her, but Merros cease his attack right before she passed out. Chiriku sputtered, coughed, gasped for air, but was too shaken to stand. One of the Distorted came over and grabbed her, dragging her limp body across the deck and threw her back into the cluster with the others.