And so both crews settle into a rhythm that is focused and efficient. When the final repairs are made and our whale is deemed seaworthy once more, Han’Ruu invites everyone for a final celebratory dinner to cement our friendship and say our goodbyes before we set sail the next morning.
The dinner takes place on the larger whale-ship, atop the great shell, with everyone in attendance. It’s a grand affair for a ship, with multiple courses of complex meals—including of course, roasted rakam—different flavors of wines and liquors, and several choices of desserts. The alcohol flows freely and there isn’t a sober man or woman left by the time the crone moon is high in the sky.
I am sitting at the edge of the shell, watching the festivities from afar, cradling a wine cup in my hands, when Calla saunters over to me. She runs a long finger down my chest as she puckers her lips. “Such a waste these last few days have been,” she says, grinning mischievously. “You and I could have had so much fun, if you’d wanted.” She leans into my shoulder and whispers into my ear, her breath hot on my neck. “They have beds, ye know. And the moon is still high. There is time.”
“Perhaps in another life,” I say, gently pushing her away. As I do, she opens her lips and brushes the side of my face with her hand, but there is no part of me that responds to her touch. That part of me belongs to another.
Seeing my lack of excitement, she shakes her head and settles into the chair next to mine, clutching her cup close to her. She eyes the bundle tied with kelp that hangs from the side of my chair. “Tell me a secret tonight. Just one.” Her eyes are bright and glossy from the drink, but also from unshed tears of those recently lost.
“I have no secrets worth sharing.”
She laughs loudly. “That is the boldest lie ye’ve told so far. Come on, play along for just one night.”
I hold eyes with her for a moment, and a genuine smile crosses my lips. “Fair enough.” I lean in conspiratorially, whispering. “I really, really, really hate roasted rakam. Anything made of rakam makes me sick.”
I lean back against my chair and she swats at my arm, but she laughs, as I’d hoped. “Truth?” she asks.
I hold three fingers over my heart. “Goddess sworn,” I say. “Now your turn.”
She nods, and her eyes take on a faraway look, her smile lost to something sadder. “I always wished I’d been born a man,” she says after a moment.
I raise an eyebrow in honest surprise. “Why? Women have all the power on the islands.”
She shakes her head. “That power, yes, it’s real. It’s there, but it’s also its own prison, too. Men get to set sail their whole lives, without worry of childbirth and rulership. We have the power, but not the freedom.”
“Men don’t have freedom to stay,” I remind her. “They are expendable, useful for hunting, for trading, maybe for leading crews, but they cannot choose their woman, claim and raise their own children, choose the life of their own desires.”
She tilts her cup into her mouth and swallows what’s left of her swill. “Ye speak truth. I suppose we are all trapped in our cages, some are just more gilded than others.”
She stands then, her smile back. “I still have time, before I’m called back to bear children and take my place in society. I will make every moment count.” She leans in, her breasts close to my face. “Ye should do the same.”
She saunters away, her offer unspoken as she walks back to the great table at the middle of the shell, joining Clam and Garen in a game of Shells and Stones. Though I have always rejected her advances, she has never acted bitter, never cruel or spiteful. She even treats Clam well, though no one else does. Hers is a kind soul, one that, if things had been different, I could find happiness with. But there is another woman in my dreams, and her voice is the one I heed tonight.
Hours pass, and as the maiden moon begins to fade, Han’Ruu begins a game of Shells and Stones with a few of his men. I walk over to his side at the head of the great table. “May I join you?” I ask.
“Of course, brother. Of course. Sit down, have more wine.” He snaps his fingers and the woman with the blue eyes refills my cup. I look at her, but she does not look at me as she finishes her duties and steps back behind Han’Ruu’s chair.
“What shall we bet tonight, brothers?” asks Han’Ruu.
Mal’Ruu throws a dozen stones on the table and Tel’Ruu tosses an iron ring into the pile. I unfurl my bundle of kelp and lay a gleaming sword before them.
Their eyes grow wide. Their mouths curl in greedy smiles. The blade is carved from a pale blue rakam head. The guard and grip are forged from precious steel. But it is the pommel that draws their gaze. There, under the silver moonlight, glitters a deep blue sapphire.
Han’Ruu speaks softly. “What would you have me wager?”
I think it over, my eyes flashing to the woman. “Her,” I say.
“But she is—”
“She is a slave, is she not?”
The captain’s smile fades. Tel’Ruu watches us, his hand sliding below the table. I pay him little mind as I lock eyes with Han’Ruu, my words firm. “I will have her, and nothing else for this sword.”
He looks to his men, then smiles. “Very well. Let us begin.”
Tel’Ruu hands each of us a cup filled with three stones and three shells. No one else plays, for it is clear no one else has anything to match my wager. Han’Ruu and I shake our cups and place them face down upon the black table. I peek under my cup, counting the amount of shells with the ridges up and the stones showing three lines. Han’Ruu does the same. We both proclaim our points. We do not have to be honest.
“Two shells, two stones,” says Han’Ruu. Tel’Ruu records four points, then a bonus two for the pair, writing with charcoal on a stone slate.
I shrug. “Three shells, one stone.”
At this point, either player can challenge the other, and if Han’Ruu was to challenge me now, I would lift my cup and reveal my one shell. He would see that I lied, and I would lose. However, he must be sure, for if he is wrong, and I am being honest, then I am the winner.
There is no challenge, and we play three more rounds, adding up our points. I have nineteen. He has twenty-three. The first to reach thirty, or to win a challenge, wins the game.
I pat my gloves and clean my side of the table. We shake our cups and peek at our stones and shells. “One shell, two stones,” says Han’Ruu, grinning. He is almost certain to win next round.
I shrug, keeping my face calm. “Three stones, three shells.” Nine points. Enough for me to win. Those who have followed along, grow still.
Han’Ruu snickers. “Challenge, brother.”
I lift my cup. Three stones. Three shells.
“Inspect them,” says Han’Ruu, and Tel’Ruu checks my stones to see if they are marked on only one side. They are. He tosses them three times to see if they are weighed evenly. They are. He does not notice the black powder on my gloves, the one I spread over my side of the table, the one that covers the second marks on my stones.
Han’Ruu laughs. “What a game, brother, what a game. You may have her tomorrow—”
“Tonight.”
The crew chuckles.
“Tonight then,” says Han’Ruu, with a smile. “Feel free to use my cabin, brother.”
I nod and stand and take my sword by the hilt and the blue-eyed woman by the arm. Calla catches my gaze as we leave the mainroom and smiles, clearly pleased I’m exercising my carnal rights, even if not with her.
My hand tightens on the blue-eyed woman’s arm, and I escort her to the captain’s quarters. Once inside, I secure the door and sit down, not on the bed, but on the floor, and motion for her to sit across from me. She remains standing, her eyes stabbing at me like rakam knives. She thought I was one thing, and now she thinks I am another. If, when her eyes pleaded with me earlier, she had any hope of escape, I have crushed it.
Now that I am within arm’s length of her, I see where her beauty has been marred by bruises and scars, and the inked mark of
the slave on her ankle. She is not as flawless as she seemed from a distance, but in her wounds she is made even more beautiful, like a broken bird who has almost forgotten how to fly.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Vasa.”
“Vasa, tonight, you must stay in this room,” I say. “You must bar the door. You must not let anyone in until the sun has risen. Do you understand?”
Her eyes are confused, her lips trembling. “Why?”
“Because the men outside must pay.”
She is quiet for a long moment, and then her voice turns harsh. “Fool, all of you will be asleep soon.”
“We will not,” I say. “My crew knows about the wine.”
She blinks, then frowns, challenging me. “How?”
“Do not worry how,” I say. “Will you stay in this room, Vasa?”
She nods.
I sigh with relief. “Then it begins.” I take three deep breaths and exit the room. I lift the necklace around my neck and place the whistle to my lips. I blow.
And a roar rips through the skies.
***
The drakruu descends like shadow, like death. She glides around the ship, the beat of her wings a steady thrum amidst the shouts and screams as all look to the skies.
I walk forward, my sword flashing in the moonlight. “Drakruu,” yells the man who calls himself Mal’Ruu, as he grabs a spear from the side of the ship. I step forward and slice open his calf. He sprays blood over the shell as he crumbles, cursing and spitting.
The crew rushes to fetch spears and arrows, and the man who calls himself Tel’Ruu notices my blade and draws his own. We exchange three moves, and then he falls, his sword hand cut from his arm. Han’Ruu yells for his men to fetch nets, yells of the stones a drakruu is worth, and then his eyes meet mine. They see the bloody men in my path, and they grow wide with fear.
He tells one of his crew, a women larger than me, to stop me. She charges, yelling, rakam-tipped spear pointed at my chest. She makes it three steps, and then she is pulled into the sky. My drakruu carries her high, shredding her body with sharp teeth, and once she no longer screams and jerks, she falls into the water like a bloody rock casting red ripples over the dark sea.
“Everyone to me,” yells Han’Ruu. “To me.” His crew rallies around their captain, and that is when my crew draws their daggers, surrounding Han’Ruu and his men. My drakruu lands behind me, her sapphire scales catching the moonlight as she roars.
“How?” asks Han’Ruu. “The wine—”
“We changed the cask,” I say.
“But how did you know? We had the ship of a Great Family. We knew their customs and their speech.”
“Even the greatest of Ruu ships do not carry thrice-thickened nets, nor stone- tipped arrows. They are traders, not warriors. That is for the Ra.”
“How would you know this? Who are you?”
My eyes drift to the rest of Han’Ruu’s crew. “I am the one who has taken this ship. I am your captain now.”
Some of the men and women glance at the bodies behind me. “What if we join you?” someone calls. “What then?”
“Then your lives will be spared.”
Han’Ruu spits. “Spared only to be branded traitors and tied to a rock by the sea.” His crew look to him, they look to me. Their faces shift from fear to anger, to curiosity and fear again, fitful as the wind.
“He is not wrong,” I say. “Those who surrender will be given to the Ruu. You have dishonored them and done far worse, and they will deal with you as they see fit.”
The crew recoils, and in their frightened eyes I see that I have lost them. Better to have a chance at life here than a promised death soon after. They begin to shuffle forward, but I will not let them. There will be no glorious battle, no triumphant last stand. I have let too many die for my cause already.
I pull the sapphire, the one I kept in my box, from my pocket, palming it in my grip. It is almost too big to grasp. I put the thread that holds it over my neck, and the stone gleams and burns against my skin. I remove my gloves, revealing my bright azure nails, and I draw the heat of the sapphire within. My black hair turns blue, my eyes glow in the night.
Both crews stare at me with shock and wonder. Stormborn, they call me. Stonebearer, they whisper.
One of Han’Ruu’s men breaks from the group and runs to the side shell. I do not follow. Instead I sprint to the edge of the kiasheen and dive into the sea.
There is no splash, no cold shock, no dampness as I hit the water. I slice through the waves, the sapphire burning against my chest, allowing me to move through water easier than I move through air, allowing me to speed up faster and faster with nothing to stop me. I glide under the kiasheen faster than a rakam, faster than an arrow, and I burst out from the water toward the fluke of the ship. I fly through the sky, a trail of water still following me as I curve around onto the ship, and smash myself into the fleeing man. He crashes into the ground as I land on my feet, my breath steady, my clothes dry.
Women scream. Men cry. The false crew drops their weapons. Han’Ruu runs.
***
He is on the other side of the ship now, so I jump into the water, spiraling under the kiasheen’s belly. The sapphire burns but it is no longer as hot as before. It must bathe in the sun and absorb its rays to be of use to a Stonebearer, and the more it is used the more heat and light are drained, until the stone must be charged once more.
I explode from the water and curve myself to follow Han’Ruu as he reaches the door of the great shell. Someone—Calla—attempts to fight him off. They exchange a blow, but Calla’s blade slips, and Han’Ruu’s finds purchase in flesh.
Calla falls, her hands covering her bleeding chest, color draining from her face. She will not live from such a wound. She glances up, her gaze meeting mine for a brief moment. She smiles a bloody smile before the light in her eyes fades forever.
I take a breath, letting the rage burn and grow inside me, and then I fly through the door into the great shell, following Han’Ruu. Before I can catch him, my momentum runs out and I land running. Here, within the bowels of my ship, my sapphire will not aid me, my drakruu cannot help me.
I follow Han’Ruu deeper and deeper into the ship, letting my anger grow hotter, preparing myself for what is about to come.
I find him at the bottom of the ship, in a room that protrudes outward from the kiasheen and over the water. This room was locked before. It is locked no longer.
Han’Ruu stands over the pool of water at the base of the shell, over the wild rakam thrashing there, their teeth scraping against the walls of their prison. His back is turned to me, his voice is soft. “I am of the Ruu,” he says.
“I know,” I say, taking a step forward, my blade lowered. “Why did they banish you?”
“I loved a woman,” he says, turning his face to me, his eyes red and weary. “All we wanted was a home together, a family. Children we could call our own. You understand, don’t you, Dak’Ra?”
I pause at the sound of my true name. “You know who I am,” I say, the fire cooling within me. I think of Calla and let it rage once more. “Then you know I cannot allow this.”
“Why not? We were both banished,” he roars. “We were both thrown to the seas, left to scavenge and scrape to survive. This was my ship, and I took it back after my first mother said I was no son of Ruu. Now I take what I must, not because I wish to, but because they made me so. The Ra family did the same to you. You search for La’Kia because of them. You lost her because of them.”
My mind drifts to La’Kia, to the sound of her laughter and the smell of her hair, and I imagine her warm embrace, her tender lips, and the way we lay atop the great mountain and talked of the children we would have and the dreams we would make real.
I take a breath, and let the image fade. I will not think of La’Kia when I do what comes next. I take a step forward. “We are not the same.”
Han’Ruu sighs, and the weariness leaves his face, like a man who ha
s had a great weight lifted, like a man who has been told he may come home. We exchange twelve moves, our blades ringing as shouts grow closer, as the rakam twist and snap and splash. Han’Ruu is fast, skilled in his way of Ratat, but I am faster, and on the thirteenth move, I pierce his belly. He falls to his knees, groaning and whimpering. The pain makes a boy out of man. “Sa’Ra,” he mutters, voicing the name of his love. “Moon of my heart. The waves bring me home.” He looks up at me. “Give me the quick death, brother.”
I raise my blade to his neck. I could end it now, but Calla’s bloody smile flashes in my mind.
I raise my foot and kick him backwards into the water.
In the depths, where the rakam are faster and stronger, they do not worry about killing. They eat their prey alive. Some say, you die from the pain before the wounds.
***
After a battle, when the blood rush fades, you are left with the ghosts of those you have killed. For me, it is harder than the killing—there is too much blood lust and battle cry to think on such things then, but in the end, when the calm returns and humanity settles back into you… in the end, you remember that you are alone in your mind, and you must live with what you have done.
I should not have given Han’Ruu to the rakam, but he had killed Calla and enslaved Vasa and so many others. I wanted him to suffer. A part of me hopes he suffers still, deep in the Deep Mother’s embrace.
Kanen’s crew killed the rakam hidden in the bowels of the larger ship; their heads and skins and meat will fetch a nice price at trade.
The crew cleaned themselves and the decks of blood. Those who were injured received medical care, often in the form of strong sea swill.
Many songs were sung and many tears were shed and many toasts were shared over clinking cups.
I saved my tears for Calla, whose friendship extended to so many, who died with that contagious smile frozen on her lips. Captain Kanen gave me leave to honor her in my own way, so I took her body upon my drakruu, and together we flew over moonlit waves until we reached sapphire blue waters. There, I kissed her forehead and whispered the old words of my people. And when the crone moon set, I sent Calla into the waves, where she will once again smile and laugh in the company of those she loves.
All These Shiny Worlds Page 34