Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  “I can’t,” Charles whispered. “I can’t accept this.”

  “Still a selfish prick,” Barclay said and sighed. He kicked lightly at the younger man’s foot, pointing at the trio once again. “Who here should actually be taking this the worst?”

  Charles looked over at Grace, bawling still, and the two women doing their best to comfort despite their own feelings. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. Bringing both hands to his face, Charles tried to rub the tears away. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the captain, intent only on getting to Grace. He fell to his knees in front of the crying woman. Gently, he reached out and held her wrists. Pulling one hand to his lips, he offered, “I’m sorry,” with a kiss. Pulling the other away, he did the same. “I’m sorry,” he stated again, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, each apology punctuated by another kiss to her eyes, her cheeks, and her nose.

  Serin and Leslie began to pull back, staring with a mixture of awe and knowing. Grace herself began to calm under Charles’s ministrations. Her sobs subsided but the tears did not. She felt warm fingers touch her chin and tilt her head up. She found Charles’s eyes, filled with as many tears as her own, staring almost through her. “I’m sorry,” she heard, and he dipped down to capture her lips in his own. She was assaulted by emotion, and buried herself in the kiss.

  She grabbed Charles by the neck and pulled him closer, her lips warring with his but never letting go. When she finally calmed, she felt him pull away just enough to look her over. She felt cold and empty without the kiss, nearly as empty as she felt without her heart. Charles must have noticed her falling mood, because he pulled her into a crushing hug. Her head was pressed above his shoulder, and she found herself whispering, “I don’t want to die.”

  Charles couldn’t help but squeeze tighter. He didn’t want to face reality, but there it was. He didn’t know what Serin and Leslie had been saying. He wished he had the words to make this better. “I don’t want you to die,” was all he could say in return.

  Serin and Leslie backed away from the pair, finding comfort in their own embrace. Serin finally noticed the captain, and startled enough for her tears to abate momentarily. She took in the captain’s stony face, realizing for the first time there were cracks in his stoic demeanor. His eyes, normally so fierce, had become a dull gray, and his right hand seemed to unconsciously clench and unclench on his belt. “Is there nothing we can do?” Serin asked softly, hoping desperately but scared to let Grace hear.

  Barclay found himself pulled from the vision of Charles and Grace to stare at Serin blankly. It took several beats before he realized what she had asked. Shaking his head, he replied just as softly, “Without her heart, she can’t replenish herself. It’s like finding out you don’t have a mouth. She’ll eventually starve.” He looked back to Grace. “But I suppose she already told you that.” His eyes suddenly sprang to life with renewed anger. “The only fix is to get her heart back, but Talmer’s gone, out into the storm.”

  “What if we gave chase?” Leslie asked, practically hissing with hatred. “He can’t have gotten that far, and Grace is surely faster than anything he could have taken.”

  Barclay shook his head again. “Under normal circumstances, you’d be right. But anything Grace does now cuts into the time she has left. She can’t power the runes to keep herself hidden anymore, and even if she could, the power it would take to run down a boat that’s who-knows-where could take everything she has left. And that’s all assuming the regent would let us take off without a word, which he wouldn’t.”

  “We can’t just do nothing,” Serin stated, her eyes beginning to glow.

  “I’m sorry,” Barclay replied, his emotionless expression further cracking as the corners of his mouth fell into a pronounced frown.

  ◆◆◆

  It had been hours since Alignak was awakened, but that great beast’s anger was finally beginning to subside. Talmer had fought through monstrous waves for the first thirty minutes after his escape from Wolfe Island, and it had taken every ounce of his power to keep the wind at his back. He found himself using the sail like a parachute, slowing his descent over the waves to keep from rolling over. Now, the waves had calmed considerably. Five to ten foot swells were nothing in comparison to the walls of water that had reached nearly the height of his sail. That wasn’t to say he had grown comfortable on the water, but at least now he could see himself weathering the storm.

  When he escaped, he thought it would be just moments before the Entregon was upon him. And yet, he had seen nothing to indicate the demon was in his midst. He wasn’t sure how long he been sailing. It felt like hours, but he knew that had more to do with the stress of the situation than anything. With the lake calming down, he was beginning to worry. He was no navigator, and in the dark he couldn’t tell which shore was which. If he accidently went back to Wolfe Island, it was suicide. In fact, even if he made it to the other shore, he couldn’t be sure the Union would be willing to deal.

  A light fog had been picking up for the past few minutes, but suddenly Talmer found himself almost completely cut off from any light. He panicked, unable to see the waves before they crashed aboard. He tried to clear the fog with a gust of wind, but found his power severely weakened. He gripped the heart tight. It could augment his powers, but wouldn’t give him what he didn’t have.

  “Ahoy, there!” a male voice suddenly called.

  Talmer found himself caught in a spotlight some fifteen feet above his eye line. He squinted, trying to see through the fog, but the spotlight reflected off the water in the air, turning the sky into a glowing dome. With his magic depleted, he couldn’t scan ahead to tell whether the voice belonged to a human or fey. In either case, he was caught. It would draw unnecessary attention if he tried to run away in the middle of a storm. “Ahoy, there,” he called back, disgusted to be talking like some low-class sailor.

  “Got caught in the storm, eh? Well, don’t worry, we can help you out.” Shuffling ensued followed by a banging of wood against steel. “I just lowered the ladder. Follow my voice and you’ll be right there.”

  Something about the forced friendliness in the stranger’s voice gave Talmer pause. He knew better than most the value of acting pleasant. And this stranger seemed like someone who knew the same, but hadn’t practiced much. If it was the Union, they might not know who he was, and be looking to lure anyone they found aboard. “I…appreciate the offer, sir, but I think I am all right now. The storm seems to be settling,” he called through the fog.

  The fog split in an instant. Talmer’s sailboat was just twenty yards from the tip of a giant wall of steel. It was so big he couldn’t see the end in either direction. The one thing that was obvious was that it was made for war. The black steel emanated a cold, unnerving confidence. It was as if the very sight of it crept into his head and made him realize there would be no point in resisting. A tall, lean man stood lazily against the front-most railing. He had no spotlight—instead his eyes themselves illuminated Talmer in their gaze.

  “I tried to be nice, Volgerett. Do not make this difficult.” All friendliness had disappeared in that voice, which caused a chill to run down Talmer’s spine.

  “Who are you?” Talmer tried to ask confidently.

  The stranger didn’t answer, instead pointing his palm at the sailboat. Talmer felt the water swell beneath his ship, and his entire vessel rose to the height of the stranger. With a flick of the man’s wrist, Talmer found his vessel thrown onto the steel deck. As the sailboat landed, it rolled sideways, throwing Talmer and snapping its mast against the unwavering steel.

  Talmer rolled all the way to the rail, but held tight to the heart. He stood to find the stranger just an arm’s length away. “Stay back!” he cried, leaping away. “I demand to speak to the Entregon.”

  “Demand?” the stranger asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I do not believe you would find that to be a wise idea.”

  The figure took a step f
orward as if the threats held no meaning to him. Talmer took an equal step away. “I have something she will be very interested in,” he stated. He lifted the heart for a moment to emphasize his point. “Take me to the Entregon. I will destroy it if you do not, and she will be extremely cross if that happens.”

  “You do not understand the situation,” the stranger said frankly. “Your life now depends only on whether you can answer my questions.”

  A melodic female voice replied from all directions, “Must we play these games? I told you we should have waited until this creature drowned.”

  Talmer spun around in circles, looking for the source. The stranger seemed bemused. “It is my duty to extract all useful information,” the man reminded.

  “We already know where they must be,” the womanly voice replied. The voice now emanated from a strikingly beautiful blonde standing two paces from the man. Her arms were crossed and her body language radiated disdain.

  Talmer stilled when he saw the woman. The resemblance was unmistakable. This was the Entregon, Grace’s mother and physical role model. They both had the same shade of golden blond hair, both had the same bright green eyes, the same height. But that was where the similarities ended. The Entregon was the definition of regal confidence, a long black dress draped effortlessly over her perfectly proportioned body. Her sheer beauty was overwhelming as Talmer struggled to focus on the task.

  Taking a quick step back, Talmer raised his right hand above the heart. He gathered as much magic as he could at his fingertips, creating a spinning blade of wind. “I am not here to offer information. I have something you will find truly valuable.”

  The woman turned an unimpressed face to Talmer, raising a single delicate eyebrow. Somehow, that innocent gesture sent a wave of fear through him. He stuttered, “I-I want safe p-passage.” He tried to compose himself, managing more confidence in his words. “I want the Union to remove all charges against me and make a statement that I worked to assist them in their efforts.”

  Entregon ignored Talmer completely, instead addressing the stranger again. “This is why you do not play nice with pests, they end up thinking they are more than just rabble. Remove this insect from my deck.”

  Before the stranger could respond, Talmer cried out, “Try it and I destroy the heart of your daughter.” To hammer home his threat, he brought his spinning blade closer to the metal shape in his arm.

  Entregon whipped her head around to Talmer, but kept her face impassive. “What did you say, insect?”

  “I traveled with your daughter and the criminals you seek. The others sought to continue opposing the Union, but I have stopped them. I have crippled Grace, taking the heart of your daughter.” When he saw Entregon’s eyes twitch slightly and her mouth tighten, he smirked.

  “She is not long for this world without it. If you have any care are all—” Talmer suddenly found he couldn’t speak. The spinning wind blade around his fingers puffed out. He couldn’t breathe as pain spread like lightning from his chest. His body began to sag, and as his head lolled forward, he saw a red hand sticking out the front of his chest, fingers wrapped around Grace’s heart. He lifted his eyes briefly, realizing Entregon was no longer standing in front of him. He didn’t even see her move.

  “Because I didn’t,” Entregon whispered from behind, reading his thoughts. “You stand upon me as if I am not anywhere, everywhere I desire.” She sniffed the back of his neck as his body went limp around her arm. “You are afraid, but not of death. Something else… Yes, I see it now. The darkness.” In a single swift motion, Entregon pulled her hand and the heart back through Talmer. His body fell to the deck unmoving, but still alive. Entregon smiled, sweet and dark. “Thank you, insect. You will die, but now I can make sure your final moments are more excruciating than you can imagine. It is the least I can do, after all, to repay you for this.”

  Runes surrounded Talmer, and the deck inside suddenly opened like jaws. Talmer fell into black nothingness, screaming in his mind where his lungs could not.

  ◆◆◆

  The unknown man distractedly smoothed down his eyebrows before speaking. “You should have pulled more information out of him,” he stated.

  “General Kenewath, there is nothing to learn from insects,” Entregon replied, allowing her anger to flitter across her face. “I will speak with our mutual acquaintance if needed.”

  “I truly hope the regent does not misunderstand his position,” the general replied.

  “The regent,” Entregon began, “is self-serving, but not a fool. I do not foresee him becoming an obstacle.” Staring at the bloody heart, Entregon brushed it gently with her free hand. Turning to the general, she tossed it to him. “Until my daughter comes to me, take care of that.”

  Kenewath caught the heart with one hand, unconcerned with a little blood. “Why?” he asked. “Could you not simply store it somewhere?”

  “I cannot be in contact with it,” Entregon answered tersely. “Do this for me,” she added before walking away, her manifestation fading to nothing as she went.

  “Curious,” the general commented, staring at the heart. Shrugging dramatically, he blew softly on his hand and the blood on the heart flew into the air like chalk powder. He placed the heart inside his jacket, patting the bulge in annoyance, and walked toward the bridge.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

  The Weight of Knowing

  Silence reigned in the kitchen. Five bodies were there together, but they may as well have been statues. Grace was curled into Charles’s lap. He never found the words to make things better, and so simply held the woman he loved tight, resting his cheek on her head. Leslie and Serin practically mirrored the couple, with Serin fitting into Leslie’s lap, cozy but despondent. Barclay was the only one who stood. He wanted to walk out, to escape the feelings of despair and uselessness that hung in the air, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

  It was Grace who finally broke the silence. “I hope the regent returns soon.”

  Charles scrunched his face in confusion. “Why?”

  “We’re not moving. I’m not powering any runes or making food. I’m still almost as strong as before. But the longer he waits, the weaker I’ll be. If he doesn’t want to help, I don’t know if I’ll be able to break out later.” Grace explained the logic matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious.

  “You’re not—” Charles sucked in an aching breath “—you’re not going to fight anybody, okay? We… You can’t do anything that might speed things up.”

  “I can’t let you fight, either, though,” Grace replied. She turned her face into his chest to avoid his eyes. “I won’t be able to heal you again if you get hurt.”

  “Grace,” Serin began, “I don’t…” She looked to Barclay and Leslie as if for confirmation. “We don’t want you to protect us if it is going to hurt you further.”

  Leslie added, “Whatever happens, we’re a family.” Grace managed a small smile at that, and Leslie continued. “We’re in this together, for good or ill. You’ve done so much, and now it’s our turn to take care of you.”

  Four pairs of eyes drifted desperately to the captain. Barclay had been standing away from the rest, almost purposely avoiding their silent pleas. He wanted to have a way out, to spring some genius plan that would surely get them out of this. Just as badly as the rest, he wanted to get Grace her heart back, and have them sailing into the sunset. But that wasn’t the case. He closed his eyes, aware of the stares, and shook his head. “We’ll do whatever we can, Grace, but fighting won’t do any of us any good. We need the regent on our side.”

  “I know,” Grace admitted softly. “I just don’t want this to doom the rest of you.”

  Charles hated himself in that moment, a burning hatred he could scarcely contain. Grace had learned of her impending demise less than an hour ago, and already she’d turned her thoughts to everyone else. It had taken him decades, and her own interference, for him to get half that far. Somehow this felt poetic. He didn’t deserve her, proba
bly never could, and so the universe was taking her away the moment they might be together. The dark thoughts hiding at the edge of his mind were fighting to come forward again. He didn’t want to live through losing someone he cared about again. “Grace,” he breathed, trying to fight back the storm of emotions within, “you are too sweet for your own good.”

  Grace leaned back, forcing Charles to hold up his own head for the moment. She smiled, sadness and appreciation mixing in her eyes. “Thank you.” She stretched her neck up and caught Charles’s lips with her own. She pulled back after several seconds, the sadness draining away.

  “So you two are really a thing, eh?” Serin asked suddenly. “I mean, he’s been stupid for you for a while, but I’m not sure what you see in him, Grace.”

  Charles narrowed his eyes at the shorter woman while Grace giggled. “He’s more interesting than he looks,” Grace replied. “And not half bad to look at.”

  Leslie smiled for the first time since she heard the news. It was almost strange how different everything felt with just a small dash of lighthearted humor. “Are you sure you aren’t settling, though?” Leslie asked. “Besides old stone face,” she nodded toward the captain, “Charles here is the only eligible bachelor you’ve seen in forty years.” She had left out Talmer purposely, and everyone seemed happy to follow suit.

  “That’s a good point, actually,” Grace replied, bringing her hand to her chin in mock thought. She eyed Charles, who remained silent, looking him up and down. “Perhaps I could just use him until something better comes along.”