Seafire

by Natalie C. Parker

  “No,” Caledonia answered simply.

  The queen paused, drawing her steaming cup into her hands and rolling it between her palms. “We have no choice but to feed Aric’s demand for iron, silver, and most of all steel. These are the things he knows we have. We cannot resist.”

  Caledonia felt herself mirroring the queen’s movements, pulling her own cup into her hands and rolling it between her palms. The steam smelled of honeysuckle and moss.

  “When he takes more than our metals, we have no recourse. If we resist, we will lose the very small amount of freedom we have here.” The queen sipped her tea, then set her cup on the table. “But the danger of preserving small freedoms is complacency, complicity. I cannot do much for you, Captain, but I can do this. Take your ship, take your crew, and prove to that man that he has not quelled all of us. Prove that there is a fire on these seas he cannot contain.”

  The words wrapped Caledonia in a fierce embrace. Her skin felt hot, her heart both buoyant and heavy. She wasn’t sure of her voice, but she was sure she needed to speak. She clenched her teeth and responded, “I promise.”

  The queen nodded, sipped her tea, then gathered her robes and rose to her feet. “I hope the water returns you to us one day, Captain. But if it does not, then I hope it carries you well.”

  Caledonia searched for something to say in return. “May the seas bring you all that you need.”

  A smile spread across the queen’s face. A smile like the bending crest of a wave, brief and beautiful. Then she turned and left Caledonia alone in the room.

  By midmorning, the crew was ready to depart. The Mors Navis had been taken out of the village and awaited them in deeper waters, where Ceepa also waited to lead them safely through the grasses. Caledonia stood on the deck of the main hall as her crew boarded mud runners and was carried away. Redtooth stood at her side, carefully scrawling each girl’s name on a small pad of paper.

  Pisces had gone ahead with Oran in tow to make the ship ready and organize the crew as they arrived. Amina should have gone with her but refused. She stood on the deck with Caledonia and Redtooth, but while they watched after the departing crew, Amina kept her eyes on the village waterways. Waiting.

  Hime had been absent since that first day in the Drowning Lands. But the entire village was aware they were leaving today.

  When all but the three of them were accounted for, it was time to go. A single mud runner waited on the ramp. The water below was littered with a few boats, curious villagers come to see the crew of girls leave. The deck, however, was clear; it was the three of them and no one else. Fifty names in all lay on Red’s list. They made fifty-three. One less than it would have been seven days ago.

  For the first time, Caledonia felt the hard truth of this moment. Even though their ship was in new repair and their stores were replenished, they were leaving with so much less than they had when they arrived.

  “This is our fault,” Amina said, voice thick. “My fault.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Caledonia insisted. “If you need to blame anyone, blame me. I’m the one who kept her belowdecks, and I’m the one who got us stuck here in the first place.”

  “Don’t you think she’ll at least come say goodbye?” Redtooth asked.

  It was hard not to recall Oran’s words. He’d been sure that Hime would come with them, and Caledonia found now that part of her had believed him. But it simply wasn’t true, and Caledonia didn’t want to linger in this moment. The longer it lasted, the harder it became. “C’mon.”

  “I don’t think I can just leave.” Amina’s words sounded deflated. “How can I just leave her?”

  “What do the spirits say?” From Caledonia, this question would have sounded antagonizing; from Redtooth, it was just a question.

  Amina tipped her head toward the sky, eyes searching for the things Caledonia never seemed to see. Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. “It’s time to go.”

  The three girls boarded the mud runner, Caledonia the last. She was angry now that Hime had not even come to say goodbye. Hadn’t she loved them enough for that?

  The journey to the ship was a quiet one. They whipped through the ghostly tunneled trees and into the marshy lands beyond. The sun was brilliant overhead and so much hotter without a cover of trees to protect them. Redtooth sat close to Amina, occasionally reaching out to stroke the girl’s cheek or drop a kiss on her shoulder. Caledonia turned her face upward and tried to think kindly of Hime. With them or not, she was still a girl of her crew. She owed them nothing beyond what she’d already given.

  When the profile of the Mors Navis appeared ahead, sharp and sleek against the sparkling water, Caledonia felt a knot inside her release. Home. That ship was the only home she’d ever known, and once again it was whole and powerful and ready. Her feet tapped on the floor, anxious to settle into the variable rhythm of the waves, hungry for the grit of the main deck. They’d lost days to the Drowning Lands, and she was ready to make up for it.

  As they drew near, they found the empty mud runners now fanned around the nose of the ship, ready to move just ahead of them through the grass flats and clear anything that might cause problems for the Mors Navis and her newly recovered propulsion system. On deck, the crew was active, moving through their paces and prepping for sail. And snuggled up next to the rear of the ship, beneath the ladder they would use to board, bobbed a smaller boat with only two people seated inside it. Two women with long glossy black braids.

  A new knot formed in Caledonia’s throat. Maybe it would have been better to have no goodbye. As their mud runner buzzed over the surface of the water toward the little boat, Caledonia felt the unsteady peace she’d reached over Hime listing to one side. In front of her, Amina sat rigid.

  It was cooler in the lee of the ship. The hull was smooth in places where it had been patched or scarred for years. Even the metal they’d lost to the crusher had been newly smoothed over, the seams of the patch nearly invisible. The work was so satisfying to see that Caledonia almost asked the woman at the tiller to take them around so she could lay her eyes on all of it here in the glorious embrace of the ocean. But there were more pressing matters to attend to.

  Amina was on her feet before they came to a stop alongside the ship, nose-to-nose with Hime’s boat. Hime stood while her mother sat in the back of the canoe, holding the little boat steady with a skilled oar and strong arms.

  No one seemed to know what to say. Amina and Hime stood locked in place, one with jaw clenched, the other with fingers curled. Redtooth chewed on her lip, looking from the pair to Caledonia, and Caledonia waited as long as she possibly could.

  “Red, topside.” She spoke as casually as she could manage. If Amina and Hime needed a moment to say goodbye, she could give them that much. “Amina, you have five minutes.”

  She turned to follow Redtooth up the ladder. A sharp clap pulled her attention back to Hime.

  Captain. She said. And stopped. Captain, she said again.

  “Hime,” Caledonia responded, waiting.

  Permission to come aboard, Captain.

  “Hime,” she said again, sadly now. Was she going to have to be cruel? “There’s no time. We must go. You’ll have to say your goodbyes here.”

  Her frown was delicate as a flower, petals closing as the sun slipped away. I’m not saying goodbye.

  “Hime, please.” The sadness she’d worked so hard to hold at bay was here now, sitting heavy in her chest. It was hard enough to let Hime go, and harder still to deny her a last moment among her crew. But this would be easier. For everyone. “It’s time to let go.”

  No! You’re always making decisions for me. But this one is mine. My choice. My crew. Hime’s words came furiously, toppling one over the other. I’m going with you, and I’m asking for permission to come aboard.

  The words finally landed. Hime wanted to stay. With them.

 
Amina had become a statue. She faced Hime, but even without the benefit of her expression, Caledonia could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves. Behind Hime, her mother watched. Caledonia couldn’t imagine the conversation they must have had to get to this point. But her mother sat there, eyes steady and proud of the daughter she was once again losing to the water.

  A strange laugh fell from Caledonia lips. “Hime, of course you have my permission.”

  Conditions, Hime said immediately, keeping her eyes resolutely away from Amina’s. I am allowed to fight, and I am allowed to determine for myself when a situation will or won’t be too “tempting.” You took care of me when I needed you, now you have to stop. Let me be a part of this crew.

  They were fair demands, even if Caledonia didn’t like them much. “Done,” she said. “But I am still the captain, and when I decide we can’t risk your healing hands in battle, you sit out. Deal?”

  Hime nodded. Deal.

  “Then welcome aboard, Hime.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  There was nothing more glorious than standing on the deck of the Mors Navis with a friendly wind at her back.

  True to their word, the Slaggers led them safely west on a path through the tall grasses. When it thinned enough that the Mors Navis could move on her own again, they peeled away one at a time, melting into the flat-surfaced waters that had caused so much trouble for her crew and her ship.

  The girls were in high spirits. Not only were they finally under way, but Hime’s return had brought everyone to their smiles. The minute she appeared over the railing, Redtooth had scooped her up, spinning her around with a cheer.

  Tin fell into step at Caledonia’s side with a report. Already, she’d taken stock of their new supplies and repairs. She was nearly giddy as she reviewed the list of vitals. “Grain, rice, dried meats, tea, some bag of something I don’t even know what, but Far’s excited about it.”

  Caledonia smiled. “How long will it last us?”

  “Oh, ‘A good long way,’ according to Far. That’s a direct quote.”

  Since they might not make land again for a while yet, that suited Caledonia just fine. The queen had done more than was fair, and Caledonia intended to use these gifts well.

  “Those sound like bright bits to me,” she said. “Get the crew to their stations and take us to full speed.”

  The only thing the queen hadn’t been able to give them was time. They had six days to cross the world and intercept the Electra. Getting through the tall grasses had taken a bite out of their first day, and Aric’s bounty was surely driving ships in all directions searching for them. On their side was the tempestuous reputation of the waters ahead.

  They sailed unhindered for the rest of that day and just as smoothly through the night. Caledonia had to pry herself away from the helm when it was her turn for rest, and returned as the sun rose to push her ship toward the northern horizon. Every moment brought them closer to their brothers, and she felt her pulse driving with the current.

  But by midmorning, she’d smelled the distant promise of rain on the air, and not long after that the wind turned brisk. Ahead the skies flashed with an approaching storm.

  The crew came alive at once, removing loose items and stashing them belowdecks. The scene in the belly of the ship would be the same. Any loose item in high seas could cause injury. The girls would make sure everything was secured before the storm hit.

  Caledonia raced to the bridge, where Tin stood ready at the helm. “Are you steady?” Caledonia asked.

  Tin braced her hands against the wheel, answering with forced confidence. “I’m steady, Captain.”

  “Fill the ballast,” Caledonia ordered. “Drop the keel.”

  The Mors Navis wasn’t built for rough seas. She was intended for the shallows, favoring maneuverability over heft. But she had a few tricks that might help her weather a storm like this one; a ballast chamber along the belly that would add weight when filled with seawater, and a keel that would add leverage below. With any luck, the combination of the two would keep them upright.

  “All hands!” Caledonia cried. “All hands to stations! Get those masts down!”

  Three of the four masts collapsed into their chambers. The mainmast remained perilously high.

  The waves were picking up, slapping the ship broadside.

  “Red?!”

  “Captain!” Redtooth shouted, coming close. “It won’t come down. Must be a gear stuck. We can work on a manual fix, but it’s going to take time!”

  There were always hitches after a repair. Caledonia knew this, and still frustration threatened to tip toward panic. Wind pushed across the deck, ripping their time with it. If that mast didn’t come down, it might tip them or break.

  Pisces appeared at her shoulder. “I’m going to get Oran out of the hold.”

  Caledonia caught her arm in a tight grip. “We don’t need him.”

  “We do!” Pisces pointed at the mast. “He’s a ship tech, remember? He can help.”

  A ship tech and a Fiveson, she thought grimly, but Pisces was right. If he could help them get that mast down, then they needed him. Caledonia swallowed her irritation.

  “You help Red. I’ll get him,” she growled.

  The hallways were full of action, but no one looked twice at the captain as she continued down to level three. The cargo bay echoed with the sounds of footsteps and the rush of water filling the ballast. She crossed to the hold and opened the door to find Oran dismantling the piles of supplies, making them smaller and lower to the ground. Through his little window, he’d glimpsed the storm and knew better than to wait for someone to come secure the room for him.

  “Looks like it might get rough out there.” He paused in his work, hands held carefully away from his body. It occurred to her then that he might be explaining himself. He wasn’t afraid of her exactly, but he regarded her with caution.

  “I need you topside.” Caledonia looked to the porthole. Through the little pane of self-healing glass the clouds were a gunmetal gray and rolled like waves. “We have a problem with the mainmast gear. Think you can help?”

  “Yes,” he answered quickly, giving his bound hands over to her so she could untie him. “If you trust me to do it?”

  The ship pitched more sharply than usual, and Caledonia gripped his hands. Warm and rough and responsive. In the distance, the ship’s bell began to ring. The storm was here.

  “I trust you not to die,” she said, dropping his hands abruptly.

  “It’s a start.” Oran fell into step at her heels, following as she raced topside. He was easily as tall as Pisces and had to duck frequently to avoid the low piping, but he was quick on his feet.

  When they arrived on deck, rain was pelting from a nearly black sky. The mast still reached upward, and now there were half a dozen girls lashing themselves to it with tools in hand.

  Oran eyed the mast block with a practiced gaze. “Do you know where the gear is catching?” he asked.

  “It won’t come down,” Caledonia answered without humor.

  Another wave knocked against the side of the ship, tipping them roughly. She was needed on the bridge. Tin had never navigated a storm and needed to change course, drive into the waves, or they’d capsize in mere moments.

  “Red will know more. Go, and make sure you strap in,” she said, sending him off to join Redtooth.

  She moved toward the bridge, then stopped, suddenly nervous. She’d sent a Bullet in with her crew. She turned to find him, to ensure he was there, that he was strapping in, that he was doing exactly as he’d said he would. And he was. Standing at Redtooth’s side, taking instruction while he strapped in and began moving expertly up the mast.

  Fiveson.

  The memory of his confession flashed like lightning. Oran had been a Fiveson, and she’d trusted him with the safety of her crew. She stared after him. It wa
s just a moment, but in that moment, another wave seized the ship, sweeping across the deck with driving force.

  Caledonia was knocked from her feet. She hit the deck hard, her head cracking painfully against the gritty metal.

  The sky was an electric blue. Her body was slipping toward white water. And the last thing she saw was Redtooth, sliding down the deck toward her like a bird of prey, blonde braids flying and a look of panic in her blue eyes. Caledonia blinked.

  And nothing followed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Pisces was frowning. Scowling, really. Half of her face was drenched in light, the other cast in shadow as though the sun perched on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak. Her lips moved, but the words came out muffled at first, soggy as though worming their way through water.

  “Pi?” Caledonia muttered, her own voice thick and muddy.

  Pisces bent close, and Caledonia felt a cool cloth press against her forehead. “Easy, Cala. Then we’ll get some food in you.”

  The edges of the room came into focus. Her room. She was in her bed, and the sun was rising on Pisces’s face.

  “I’m not hungry.” She sat up and regretted it instantly. The movement sent her belly and her head to spinning, and she vomited at Pisces’s feet.

  Pisces threw a towel on the mess. “Of course you’re not, but you should be, so you’ll sit there and you’ll eat.”