Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  “Which shouldn’t take long,” Serin added.

  Charles knew they were just teasing. He knew it was a silly ploy to lighten the mood. He knew Grace was just playing along. But his own insecurities about the whole thing were overwhelming his ability to see the humor. It felt real, and that scared him. He forced out a few words to follow along, but put no heart in them. “Well, at least I managed to beat out the captain.”

  “Only because he’s incapable of having feelings,” Leslie reminded.

  Grace giggled again, but with her closeness to Charles, she began to feel his aura shift. She eyed the man whose arms were still loosely hung around her waist. His furrowed eyebrows and tightening lips made plain how uncomfortable he was becoming. She reached a hand up and cupped his chin. “I jest, of course. Charles is a good man, and I’m sure the best one I could have found.” She saw his nervous smile, and felt emboldened. “In fact, I think perhaps I understand him now more than ever. He was so aggravating when we first met because he was so lost. I think—” She paused, catching her breath momentarily when Charles looked into her eyes. “I think I know how that feels now.”

  No one challenged her claim. A somber note had filled the kitchen and everyone found it difficult to stay lighthearted. Charles cursed internally that Grace would ever have to experience the kind of loss he had. Breathing deeply, he was assaulted by the salty smell of tears. Looking around the room, taking in the sad faces all around, he had a sudden urge to get out. “What do you say,” he suggested, “we get some fresh air?”

  Leslie and Serin seemed surprised at the suggestion. Barclay, meanwhile, was moving like he’d heard a starting pistol. He’d been increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stayed, and Charles’s suggestion was too good to pass up. Four pairs of eyes followed his back out the door before Serin forced a cough. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” she offered, already beginning to stand from Leslie’s lap. As she stood, she offered a hand each to Leslie and Grace. Both women took the offered hand gracefully, allowing themselves to be pulled to their feet.

  Charles waited a beat for Grace to step out from the tangle of his legs before rising, as well. The ladies led the way, and like gravity he found his body unable to allow more than a few feet between himself and Grace. She seemed content to stick tight to the others, but continued to throw glances behind to make sure he was close. By the time the group exited the dining area, Charles could feel a strange loneliness welling up inside. With Grace walking just an arm’s length away, even that somehow was too far.

  Barclay was standing near the bow by the time the rest caught up. He stared out, past the pier, willing the regent’s parade to show up. He heard the others walk up behind and stop. He glanced back briefly. The bonded held each other’s hand tightly, but had determination in their eyes. Grace looked decidedly unwell, pale and perhaps nauseated, but held herself with a regal posture. He noticed Charles’s eyes seemed locked on something right around Grace’s hip. When she swayed to a stop, Barclay realized the younger man had been staring at her hand. In a quick motion, Charles grabbed Grace’s hand and turned away with a nervous smile on his face. Grace watched Charles until he turned back to her and offered a thankful smile.

  “It’s a pretty night, isn’t it?” Grace asked, staring toward the starlit sky. “I wish the others could see it.”

  Leslie scoffed amiably. “I don’t think they’d find it all that pretty, actually.”

  “Why not?” Grace asked honestly.

  “Pretty close to a full moon still,” Charles replied knowingly. “I take it our friends downstairs are wolf-kin. Full moon nights don’t sit well with them.”

  “They can’t come out at all?” Grace wondered.

  Serin answered first. “They can, but they have to take special care not to expose themselves to much direct moonlight. That’s why the Union had them all collared when they took us, and why they’ve been hiding downstairs since before the storm.” She smiled nostalgically. “Back at home, we used to stay inside and play games until the kids fell asleep. You know, make the night fun for the kids instead of scary.”

  “Did it work?” Grace asked, a hint of constrained enthusiasm in her voice. “I mean,” she clarified, “did it help the kids not to be scared.”

  “Yeah,” Serin admitted, a growing smirk on her face. “Hey, do you wanna play a game, Grace?”

  “Oh, well, I mean…I don’t really know how to play many games,” she replied, flustered.

  “You’re on,” Charles interjected, smiling down at the woman by his side. “How do we play?”

  “Simple word game,” Serin began. “We go in a circle. First person says the name of a furry animal. Next person takes the last letter of that animal’s name and has to come up with another furry animal that starts with that letter. You can’t reuse any animal that’s been said before. If you can’t think of one, you’re out until the next round. Last one standing wins.”

  “I can do that,” Grace replied, already planning out animal connections in her head.

  “I’ll go first,” Serin announced. “Since I’m first, I’ll start with A. Aardvark!”

  Leslie smiled. “Counter-clockwise, so I’m next. Kangaroo.”

  “Okay,” Grace stated, her face a mask of total seriousness. She narrowed her eyes at Charles, who was next in line, before offering a sweet smile. “O is for Oryx.”

  “Wait, what?” Charles asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.

  “Oryx,” Grace repeated with a smirk. “A type of antelope that lives in Africa.”

  “You just made that up,” Charles accused. He looked for confirmation from the Serin and Leslie. “Did she just make that up?”

  Leslie smiled apologetically. “Actually, she’s right. There are four distinct species of Oryx, but that’s the common name.”

  “How do you even know that?” Charles asked, still confused.

  “I read a lot,” Grace answered sweetly. “So you have X.”

  “This is unfair,” Charles stated seriously. “Serin gets to go first, and I’m stuck following the girl who apparently knows every animal ever.”

  “You are the one who said you wanted to play,” Grace reminded.

  “Yeah, but that was before I found out you are so competitive,” he replied. He turned to Serin. “So I don’t know anything that starts with X, I guess I’m out.” He felt Grace give a quick squeeze to his hand and pump her small fist in front of her chest in victory.

  “Right, well, I guess you’re out. Next person gets to start with B.” Serin glanced at the captain, who remained staring toward the dock. “Captain, you’re up.”

  “I’m not playing,” Barclay said.

  “You have to play,” Serin said.

  “I’m not playing,” Barclay said again.

  “Everybody’s playing, Captain. You have to play,” Grace added.

  Barclay sighed, wiping tension from his forehead. He couldn’t care less about their game, but it did seem to be distracting Grace. “Fine, what do I have to do?”

  “I’ll make it easy, just name any furry animal,” Serin replied.

  “Fox,” Barclay declared immediately, never turning around.

  “Seriously?” Serin demanded. Charles only chuckled, which drew an angry look. “Maybe you shouldn’t play,” Serin amended.

  “You wanted me to play, so I played,” Barclay added. “So keep going, whose turn is it?”

  “You know whose turn it is,” Serin accused. “You did that on purpose.”

  A soft sound drifted from the captain’s direction, something between a cough and a chuckle. Serin was about to announce new rules when Barclay stilled and held up a hand for silence. Moments later, a familiar cadre of fey marched out from behind the tree line. Once again, they walked in twos, carrying a soft carpet out to the end of the pier. Just as they reached the end, an extravagant carriage rolled to a stop where the carpet began.

  The fey on the pier stepped back to shore in perfect unison. The carriage driver leapt f
rom his seat and opened the door with a flourish. The regent emerged, half-floating to the ground. Unlike before, he did not take his time slowly marching through the procession. He strode at the full pace his long legs provided. He was a man on a mission. When he reached the end of the pier, he stopped, lacing his fingers together behind his back. He was just outside the effects of the Alter Key, but he knew those on board could see him.

  Grace gave a last longing look to each of the fey on deck before she released Charles’s hand and stepped up to the entry gate. She took a deep breath, trying to clear the discomfort from her posture before nodding to herself. She pulled the gate open and with both feet on the edge of the deck, she offered her hand across the pocket. The regent smiled in appreciation, took Grace’s childlike hand in his own giant fingers, and stepped aboard.

  “Young Grace, it is my pleasure to meet with you again,” the giant’s voice boomed.

  “And it is my pleasure to have you aboard,” Grace replied politely. She led the regent several paces in before releasing his hand and spinning to address him face to face. She was surprised to find an almost apprehensive look on his face. If he was that conflicted about his decision, it did not bode well. Still, she waited patiently. Pressing him for a response after she had so rudely left the palace would be skirting the edge of a knife.

  “Ah, it has been in interesting hour, wouldn’t you say?” rhe regent asked, staring at the deck instead of Grace.

  Grace found this question and behavior only more confusing. Briefly, she wondered if the regent knew about her injury. Did he have Talmer, she wondered. “Yes,” she answered, tentative but firm. “I find much has changed in so short a time.”

  The regent caught her eyes with his own, offering a weak smile. “You must understand,” he began, “I find you very entertaining, and I truly wish to get to know you better.” He took a deep breath, sucking in so much air Grace could feel the wind around her move. “But I am afraid you may not feel the same.”

  “You aren’t going to help us,” Grace stated, deflating slightly.

  “I do apologize,” the regent offered. “This is a rather unique situation, and it bereaves my heart to treat you all so poorly. I admit your offer continues to tempt me, even now, but my position has become more complicated”

  “What else will it take?” Grace demanded suddenly. “What else do you desire?” She found she couldn’t look the regent in the eye anymore, the sadness compounding in her mind.

  The regent closed the distance to Grace in an instant. Gently, he put a single finger under her chin and softly lifted. “Child, it is not about what I desire.” He waved a hand out toward the dwindling storm. “Your mother is out there, waiting. Even if she cannot sense you, she knows where you are. My contacts even tell me she rides the sea with a man of immense authority within the Union. I am sorry, but if I were to help you now I would be declaring war on both your mother and the Union. That is something I cannot do—neither to myself nor to my business partners.”

  Grace could see the genuine honesty in the large man’s eyes. She wasn’t prepared for this. Her mother was clear about how to act in the presence of an equal, and yet this man of wealth and power was not following the rules. “Why tell me all that?” she found herself asking.

  The giant furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before relaxing and offering a knowing smile. “Your mother is a good fey, proud and regal. But she is also—” he paused, trying to pick his words politically “—jaded, I think. It is one thing to negotiate in good form, but there is no rule that we cannot make friends. We are above the lesser fey, but we are not wholly different. We can still care for one another.”

  Stray tears began to escape beneath Grace’s tightly sealed eyelids. She tried to brush them away quickly, and the regent took a polite step back, allowing her to compose herself. “You are kinder than perhaps I gave you credit,” she admitted.

  “From you, that is a great compliment,” the regent replied. Turning his head, his eyes swept over the four fey who had lined up as before. “I must say, General, I still wish I had time to hear your story. Weapon or no, you are an oddity of history. And, Barclay, good man, I regret your loss. I had even greater plans for you eventually.” Looking to the women, he smiled wide, causing a frightened Leslie to reach out and grab Serin’s hand. “Such adorable young things,” the regent complimented.

  Grace finally got her tears under control, addressing the giant. “When?”

  The regent looked up whimsically, taking a long sigh. “I thought it only fair to inform you first. I will speak to the Union once I leave. You will have perhaps an hour as I negotiate terms.” He suddenly turned serious. “Please do not do anything reckless. I am aware one or more of your passengers attempted to leave this harbor, costing me three small vessels. I can assure you much stronger defenses are now in place if you attempt to leave.” He fought to bring a calm smile to his face, adding, “I do not pretend to think I can dictate the fate of the others, but you—” he nodded at Grace “—I will request punishment in lieu of execution.”

  The tears were back as Grace realized even that kindness would be a waste. “I’m sorry,” she offered to the fey by her side. The regent turned away quickly, though Grace thought she saw a hint of empathy in his eyes. She watched him take slow steps back to the gate.

  “Wait,” Charles cried out. The regent stilled, turning slowly with one raised eyebrow. “Just wait a second. I have another offer.”

  The regent closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, “The time for dealing has passed, I am afraid.”

  “For me, for Grace, sure,” Charles admitted. “But if you haven’t talked to the Union yet, they don’t necessarily know who else is on board.”

  The regent looked up at the stars in thought. After a moment, his gaze bored into Charles. “What are you suggesting, General?”

  “You can’t let me go because of the Union, and you probably can’t let Grace go because of her mom. But the others are just caught up in a bad situation. You can get them away from here if you want. Grace and I can say we dropped them off or even that you killed them already. Nobody ever has to know about them.” Charles stopped, waiting to see the regent’s reaction.

  The giant stroked his chin absently before a small smile pulled at the edges of his lips. “You may be right,” he acquiesced. “Are you proposing the same offer?”

  Charles turned to the shocked faces of Barclay, Leslie, and Serin. “I’m offering my story, as poorly as I tell it. And I promise when you hear it, you’ll know the location of the weapon.” He stared down the giant. “You promise to get everyone else, converts included, off this island, alive and unharmed, without anyone in the Union knowing where they are or where they’re going.” He held out a hand for a handshake. “What do you say?”

  A fluttering of lights seemed to play inside the regent’s eyes before a wide grin took over his face. “I accept, Charleton Lunanocta Gaspris.” He reached out and squeezed Charles’s offered hand, giving a single firm shake before letting go.

  “Captain,” Charles called, “take these two inside.” He indicated toward Serin and Leslie. He gave the regent a questioning look. “This is such a sensitive matter, I would think the fewer people who know the better?”

  The regent nodded in agreement. Barclay took a step back before snapping his fingers to get the others’ attention. “Let’s go,” he ordered. Leslie and Serin gave concerned looks to Charles, but followed the captain.

  Charles waited until they had completely disappeared into the dining area before he addressed the regent. “You are a man of your word, right?”

  The regent’s eyes darkened, and magic began to swell around his hands. Grace cut in, scolding, “Do not be disrespectful!”

  “Sorry,” Charles replied, though clearly not sorry. He waited for the regent to release his built-up magic before continuing. “I know I’m a bad storyteller, so I’ll try to fluff this up. We’d known for a while that wolf-kin strength varied with the moon,
how full it was and how big it looked. Being half convert myself, it made a noticeable difference when I had to get my hands dirty on the battlefield.” He made a tight fist for emphasis. “That’s part of the reason we only attacked the strongholds once a month. And yet even at my peak I was still lacking compared to the Ancient Ones. Some of the real old-timers in the Union brought up an idea, an old magic forbidden to even talk about. They told us about soul-melding magic.”

  The regent interjected. “I have been informed by credible sources that such magic is beyond even a noble’s abilities.”

  “It is certainly not something to be taken lightly,” Charles said, smiling mischievously, “but it is very real. The old nobles who knew about it said they witnessed it happen before, but with humans. Turns out that didn’t end well, and may even be the real reason they don’t take over the human world now. In any case, they thought to have me, General Alastair, and General Kenewath draw straws, and the ‘winner’—” he put that word in air quotes “—would have the distinct honor of having a legion of troops tied to their soul, hopefully giving that one enough raw power to fight the Ancient One.”

  “You drew the short straw,” the regent stated.

  “Nah, we never did draw. Alastair was a damn genius, and he knew right away it would only work for me. My body was already accustomed to using multiple sources of magic, moon and all, and he even had a plan. See, he’d been in command of several legions of convert troops—wolf-kin of course. He’d liked to fake out the enemy by sending a small force of purebloods to hold a line, then send the wolf-kin during the day when the loyalists would think they were just humans. Next full moon pops up, and suddenly the enemy is surrounded on all sides by wolves.” Charles laughed. “It was a sight to behold.”

  Catching himself meandering, Charles continued. “Right, anyway, Alastair knew a single wolf-kin wasn’t that strong, maybe as good as a new recruit at the absolute peak. But he also knew a lot about the sky. He said there was this big moon coming fourteen months later, and every wolf-kin, including me, would be stronger than ever. So we held the lines, kept the loyalists busy, and I spent every day working soul-melding spells with thousands of these wolf-kin. It didn’t do much at first—they didn’t have anything to offer most of the time. But every full moon, it was like walking on air. I was stronger, faster, and had more magic at my disposal than I could imagine. For most of the year I just trained to be able to use it all. Finally, this super moon is on its way. I gear up and before nightfall we set up ten thousand wolf-kin around the city. By the time the moon is at its peak, I’m feeling like a god, strong enough to kill a god.”