Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  “Um, we are…on Lake Ontario,” Leslie stammered. She would have much preferred for Grace to do the explanation. “The Union was really coming out in force, way more than we could avoid.”

  Barclay furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what the woman wasn’t saying, “You’re not going to tell me Grace is also a storm-monger, are you?”

  “How do you know I’m not doing this?” Serin asked cheekily.

  “Kid, I may not be able to use my senses right now, but I know you’re not that strong,” Barclay retorted curtly.

  Before Serin could try another jab, Leslie burst out, “Alignak!”

  Barclay’s eyes snapped to the woman at his side, “How do you know that name?”

  “I grew up around here,” she answered before correcting herself. “Well, not technically here, west of Lake Superior actually. But, of course, the stories of Alignak are abundant throughout all the Great Lakes. She is everywhere and nowhere.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Barclay grumbled. Things were starting to make a lot more sense now. “And just whose idiot idea was it to piss off a damned demon like that?”

  Leslie glanced to Serin, who nervously glanced back. Leslie admitted, “Technically Serin’s.”

  “Technically?” Barclay demanded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I thought I told both of you that Grace was the only one to be making decisions.”

  Serin looked back, finally catching the captain’s eye. “It was Grace’s decision. We weren’t going to make it any other way. Charles powered up your key and threw it in the water.”

  The loss of a pocket key was bad enough. Old Ulsimore had paid a king’s ransom for that, and it wasn’t something you could just replace. But using it to wake up one of the real terrors of the deep was a special kind of stupid. Still, they were alive so far, which meant Alignak hadn’t tracked the key to them. Small favors, he mused. Shaking his head, he pushed past Leslie to stare at the radar. “So where are we headed now?”

  “The locks,” Serin and Leslie answered simultaneously, smiling at one another afterward.

  “Why?” Barclay asked.

  Serin watched Leslie open her mouth to reply before glancing over and smiling instead, inclining her head to encourage her partner. “To get out of here,” Serin answered. “Like you told us.”

  The word amateurs was swimming through his head over and over. This is why he didn’t really want to be put under. These kids had good hearts, they followed orders well enough, and he even had to admit they were pretty clever. He never would have considered angering Alignak on purpose, and he was sure the Union had been just as surprised. But it was painfully obvious that, besides Grace, none had spent a lot of time on the water. And Grace, powerful and sweet as she was, probably hadn’t spent more than a passing thought on how much different sailing was for humans. “I’m guessing it never occurred to you that the locks aren’t going to be operating in the middle of the greatest storm the humans have ever seen?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m guessing you don’t actually know much about human locks, or that a ship—even Grace—stuck in those narrow channels would be smashed to bits in this kind of weather?”

  Serin and Leslie exchanged shocked looks. Up until that moment, they thought the plan was working fantastically, if unnervingly. Neither had a response, both continuing to stare with open mouths until a voice crackled in from the communicator next to the radar screen.

  “How far out are we?” Charles’s voice asked.

  Barclay ignored the startled jump from his fellow companions and grabbed the walkie-talkie transmitter. “Charles, you took part in this?” he barked into the receiver.

  “Ah, um, Captain, glad to hear you’re feeling better,” a much less confident response came back.

  “And, Grace, I know you’re there, too. You okayed this?” Barclay continued. He heard a short, muffled argument, causing him to tap the receiver against his forehead in frustration.

  “It, uh, it seemed like the best idea at the time,” Charles finally answered clearly. “We should almost be there, actually.”

  Barclay squeezed the talk button harder than he needed, producing a small crack in the receiver. He glanced at the radar and, sure enough, they were just south of Wolfe Island on the way to the mouth of the St Lawrence River. “That’s the problem,” Barclay replied. “Alignak is going to be churning up this storm all the way down the river until her influence ends. There’s no way the humans will be manning the locks in the middle of a hurricane.”

  Charles and Grace partook in another muffled conversation that distinctly sounded like blaming one another before responding with a single word, “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh,” Barclay imitated. “By the way, if you want to keep your little tiffs to yourself, take your damn finger off the button.” He slammed the receiver back down on the radar dashboard. Charles stayed quiet, apparently learning how to use the receiver on his end. Serin and Leslie stared ahead, wide-eyed and unwilling to break the silence.

  Barclay stared at the radar. The Entregon was still right behind them, dangerously close to having the inner red circle around Grace. They were too close to the east shore to try turning south. The Entregon would be on them in an instant. If they kept going down the St. Lawrence River, the Entregon would corner them in the locks. Going to land, on Wolfe Island of all places, was basically a surrender to the Union. He scanned and scanned, trying to think of anything that might be useful. A brief memory crossed his mind, and he snatched the receiver back up. “Grace, you said before that your senses are limited inland, right?”

  “Um, yes,” Grace’s soft voice replied.

  “What about around an island?” he asked hopefully.

  “It depends,” Grace admitted. “If it was wide enough that I couldn’t penetrate through, I would be able to sense around the other side through the water, but my senses would be limited by the perimeter distance rather than a straight line.”

  Barclay almost clapped. “So if we could put an island between you and the Entregon, assuming it’s wide enough, even if we were just a few miles away as the crow flies, she’d see it like we were farther away?”

  “Oh,” Grace replied, suddenly understanding. “I can’t say for sure how far she can sense inland, but it’s certainly possible.”

  A sigh escaped the old fey’s lips as he replied, “Possible is gonna need to be good enough here.” He turned to Serin, still holding the wheel with white knuckles. “We’ve gotta find a way to wait out the storm. So we’re gonna play a little keep-away.” He pointed at the east edge of Wolfe Island. “Take us into the river, but as close to that point as you can without running us aground. Once you get there, take us north and around the other side of the island.”

  Leslie looked at the thin line of water around the island. “That looks tight. And are we just going to run around in circles until the storm lets up?”

  “It’s not going to be easy,” Barclay admitted, “but the island should act as a break against the waves once we get around the north side. If we’re a little bit lucky, the Entregon will think we’re headed down the river at first. That might give us a little more time to open some distance before she catches on.”

  “This sounds like a shaky plan,” Serin commented.

  “Yeah, well, it’s better than running to some closed locks and waiting for the Entregon to crash into us,” he retorted, ignoring her incoherent grumbling. “Oh, and before I forget, one more thing. Once we get to the north side, try to stay clear of the island coast.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Serin replied. “I don’t want to get smashed.”

  “More than that!” Barclay said with a raised voice. “Wolfe Island may be known as a resort for nobles in the summer, but it’s a lot more than that. It’s the hub of every black market operation in Union territory.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” Leslie asked. “Maybe we can find more of your friends to help.”

  “Acolytes don’t have friends,” the old fey brist
led.

  “What does that mean?” Serin prodded.

  “Look, just steer clear. It’s bad news,” Barclay ended the line of questioning with a loud “hmph.” He walked forward, taking the railing below the windows in his good hand. With each lightning flash, he caught a glimpse of the cozy human façade decorating the island on his left. Just as the land ended, he called behind to Serin, “Okay, take us north hard. We’ll hug the coast so it can break the waves.”

  Serin pulled the wheel hard, feeling Grace strain to turn in the waves. “Stay clear, hug the coast, make up your mind.”

  “Stay clear when we get all the way to the north side, we should be fine for now,” Barclay replied.

  “We have different ideas of fine,” Serin added as a wave slammed into Grace’s side, causing a tremendous shudder throughout the bridge.

  Grace’s voice suddenly broke through the receiver once again. “Captain, something strange is happening.”

  Barclay leapt to the receiver and pulled it to his lips. “What kind of strange?”

  “I think,” she paused, trying to focus, “I think I’m being hailed.”

  “The Entregon?” Barclay asked nervously.

  “No. I set up a block in case she tried to do that again. This is something else.” Grace added tentatively, “I don’t recognize it.”

  Barclay cursed, “Damn it!”

  “What is it?” Leslie asked.

  Barclay just pointed toward the front windows. The bonded exchanged a confused glance before everything changed. Suddenly it was as if they had crossed into the eye of the hurricane. The raging water was reduced to small swells that lazily moved across the harbor. The sky still had the dark and ominous clouds, but the rain didn’t seem to make it to them.

  “Welcome to the fey harbor of Wolfe Island,” Barclay announced to Leslie and Serin. “Shit.”

  The two women just looked at each other, still in disbelief at how the water had changed. Grace’s radio crackled to life as if possessed and gave them both a shock. Barclay just walked over to it and turned the volume up. A husky voice pushed through the static. “Please standby for the regent.”

  Serin moved to speak but Barclay quickly held up his hand and shook his head. A second voice came over the radio, this one deep but surprisingly cheerful. “Barclay, my old friend, it has been far too long. If you had given me notice, I would have come in person for your arrival.”

  Barclay bit his lip and closed his eyes as if preparing for trouble. “As always, Regent is too kind. To come and personally welcome me would be too generous. I am only within your domain—”

  The regent broke in before he could finish. “Oh, my dear Barclay, please refrain from talking business in this fashion. It is so impersonal. Dock fifteen has been prepared for your arrival. I will await you there.”

  Barclay’s shoulders fell and his head shook. “Of course, Regent, I humbly accept your most generous offer.”

  He was just about to shut off the radio when the regent came back on, “Oh, and Barclay, please bring along young miss Grace and your crew. We have such important things to discuss.”

  “Yes, Regent,” was all Barclay could say as his head reeled. The radio fizzled out, the static disappearing as suddenly as it came. Serin and Leslie just looked at each other as Barclay almost fell into a seat. He held the radio in his hand and pressed the button to talk. “Grace, can you make it so everyone can hear me?”

  A moment later, Barclay could hear voice echo throughout the bridge. “All set.”

  Barclay closed his eyes and clicked the radio. “Attention, everyone on board. We’ve run into a bit of a snag. I need every convert on this ship to remain in their rooms. No matter what happens, do not come out. This is for your own safety.” He released the radio for a moment to sigh before clicking again. “Grace, Charles, and Talmer, I need you on the bridge as fast as you’re able. Whatever you’re doing, drop it and get here.”

  The trio on the bridge waited in silence a full minute before Charles and Grace burst into the bridge. Talmer was just behind, as always trying his best to appear calm. Charles was asking questions the moment he entered. “Who was that? How does he know you and Grace? What happened to the storm? What exactly are we up against?”

  Barclay waited for Charles to shut up before speaking. “The regent, and you will address him as such if spoken to, runs the single biggest smuggling operation in the country. He has bribed or blackmailed Union nobles to the point that they won’t interfere with anything that goes on here. There are rumors he found a way to appease the master of these waters, which provides him safety against her wrath.” He continued, “Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not offer any more information than he asks, and above all, do not lie. He will know it and consider it a personal offense. If he knew of our arrival, it means he knows everyone on board. All of us will present ourselves on the deck the moment we arrive.” He caught each fey with a calculated stare. “Keep your wits about you. It is likely he will test each of us in some way.”

  Grace perked up. “I can delay our arrival at the dock if you would like. It would give us some more time to prepare.”

  “No,” Barclay said firmly. “The regent would know the second you tried, and would consider it bad form. Make no mistake, every action we could take has already been calculated for and planned out. The regent already knows what he wants, and likely already has a price in mind. But he is a businessman, so there is still some opportunity for us to negotiate.”

  Everyone just looked around in silence. Talmer spoke up. “Well, if we must negotiate, I believe my skills would be eminently valuable.”

  For once Barclay didn’t have an argument. Perhaps Talmer could finally pull his weight. “I appreciate that. If we are given opportunity, we may just need your skills.” He held up a finger. “But be mindful of our place. He will lead the discussion.”

  “We will be docking in five minutes,” Grace broke in.

  Barclay jumped out of his seat. “Okay.” He caught Grace’s eyes and nodded apologetically. “I know you won’t like this, but please lock everyone else in their cabins. I’m sure you know how the nobles feel about converts. If even one decides to take a peek, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  Grace shared a glance with Serin and Leslie, who nodded numbly. “Okay.”

  “Good,” the captain added. He took a deep breath, clearing all concern from his face. “Let’s go.” He marched to the door before pausing. “On the way down, try to clean yourselves up.”

  Serin and Leslie took in their disheveled appearances, hair and clothes awry from being tossed around the bridge. Charles and Grace gave themselves a once-over, but simply shrugged. Talmer, ever impeccably dressed, didn’t even look down. After a minute of letting the bonded straighten themselves out, Grace held a hand toward the doorway. “Um, let’s head down. I’ll take us the rest of the way in.” Four nods were the only reply, and they filed out of the bridge together.

  The ship moved effortlessly through the water as she pulled up to the dock. Unlike the metal and concrete of the last port, here there were giant trees growing out from the floor of the bay. Each trunk was fifteen or twenty feet thick and spaced a hundred feet apart. High above, leaves blocked the sky providing shade and shelter from the elements. Orbs of light hovered under the canopy, lighting up the ground below. At the edge of the water, branches intertwined so densely that they formed a smooth surface a few feet above the waves. As Grace got closer, limbs appeared from the dock cushioning her contact and attaching to her mooring points.

  Once the motion stopped, more branches came and produced a grand staircase up to the deck. Two soldiers marched up the steps in unison. Upon reaching the top, they spun on their heels and one bellowed, “Announcing his Grandness, the Regent of Wolfe Island.” Immediately, both soldiers dropped to a knee in reverence.

  Not since the end of the war had Barclay seen such a display. Looking down the line of his crew, he saw Charles had balled his right hand into a fist and p
laced his forearm horizontally across his chest. Following the gesture, he nudged Serin who caught on and grabbed Leslie and Talmer’s attention. Footsteps brought Barclay’s attention back to the dock below.

  Two lines of ornately dressed men and women marched up the stairs in perfect pairs, then spun just like the soldiers before them. A carriage with gilded markings and ornate runes followed. The carriage came to a halt in unison with the lines of acolytes. The driver leapt from his seat to the side door in a single fluid motion, pulling the door open and dropping to his knee at the same time. Right on cue, one of the largest men Barclay had ever seen walked out from the carriage.

  Barclay could almost feel the vibration in the air as this giant’s foot hit the dock. The regent was eight feet tall, with jet-black hair and glowing bronze eyes. A silver ring sat on his head, as if his demeanor didn’t give away his nobility. Each step he took forced Barclay to calm his nerves. Luckily, the regent was in no hurry to climb the stairs—slowly and purposefully, each foot followed the next. After what felt like hours, the giant made his way to the top of the stairs and the gate that sat shut in Grace’s railing.

  Barclay whispered to his right just loud enough for Grace to hear. “Grace, please let our gracious host on board.”

  The gate swung open and the regent crossed the threshold. Once on board, the giant man’s demeanor changed. A great smile swept across his face and he threw his hands in the air. “Barclay, my young friend, your work for Ulsimore has been tremendous.” In two steps he covered a distance he shouldn’t have been able to. Barclay tilted his head down while holding his hand steady until the giant grabbed him by both shoulders.

  “Come now, you need not be so formal. I have always been proud to have stolen you from the ocean. Your talents were wasted there.” The giant roughly squeezed Barclay’s injured shoulder. “My word, what is this?” The regent pushed back the shoulder of Barclay’s coat to reveal his broken and bandaged arm. “No, this simply will not do. I cannot be happy when you are in such a state.” With a single pat on the shoulder, magic burst through the air. It was surreal to feel the regent’s power when it hit him, like opening the gates to a dam. Feeling returned to his arm and he knew what the man had done.