Sea of Secrets Anthology

by J E Feldman

  Jenaro was silent until they reached the wheel.

  “My ship is now in need of a captain,” Bibi-Ama said.

  “I would be honored, goddess. Yet I am afraid my spirit is not as hardy as that of Maboya. I cannot spend eternity rescuing those souls in which you speak of.”

  Bibi-Ama laughed. “Worry not, son of dust. Maboya will continue to do so from the modest vessel in which he now finds himself. No, Jenaro delRios. The Charon’s Ferry is yours to do with as you wish, so long as it is in keeping with Yaya’s laws, until that time in which Maboya once again returns to your shore to claim your soul.”

  Jenaro smiled and bowed low. “It is a kingly gift, goddess, and one which I will treasure until my dying breath.” Jenaro paused and stared out over the bow of the ship.

  The sun was now in its final stages, painting the sky with rich plum and coral colors. He lowered his head and thought of Agostin. Had Maboya truly transported him back to Port Hyspar?

  “There is one more thing I would ask of you, great goddess.”

  Bibi-Ama turned her gaze to Jenaro.

  “My friend, he was with me when I departed my home. Maboya claimed Agostin was safe.”

  Bibi-Ama nodded. “Maboya’s tricks. Your friend is indeed safe.”

  Jenaro breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Now you will want to be on your way, I assume? The sea is calling the two of us back to our homes.”

  Bibi-Ama bowed her head and raised her arms. The deep crimson sails of the Ferry unfurled in response. A great westerly wind arose, as if on cue, and with a gust, propelled the Charon’s Ferry forward. Bibi-Ama raised her head and smiled at Jenaro. In the blink of an eye, she dove overboard. He ran to the edge and noticed the silhouette of a great cagauama swimming alongside the ship until the shadow of the giant turtle slowly faded into the deep.

  Jenaro stood in awe at the sheer speed of Charon’s Ferry. It felt as if the clipper were racing the sun, daring it to rise before it reached the Andolins. Jenaro held fast to the wheel, but knew the ship did not need his input. He wondered if Bibi-Ama herself were pulling the ship along.

  Soon the morning rays of the sun combined with the lighthouse of Port Hyspar welcomed him home. Jenaro could see the shining seas of the bay, the sails of those fishermen returning from their evenings abroad, and the banners and standards of the royal navy. It was those banners that caused Jenaro to stop. Without any way to declare his allegiance, the navy would more than likely open fire on the Ferry. Jenaro looked to the masts. Charon’s Ferry had no standard, no banner to announce whether it was friend or foe. His heart jumped. He ran from the wheel to the nearest line and began to climb. The crimson sails lowered and the speed of the ship decreased as he climbed.

  The clipper slipped into the bay proper as the alarm sounded. Jenaro could hear the horns of war screaming from the shipyard. In no time at all, Charon’s Ferry was surrounded by three small frigates. Admiral Gueybana’s man-o-war was fast approaching. Jenaro reached the pinnacle of the main mast, wrapped both his legs and his left arm around, and waved his right hand. He was spotted before any vessel opened fire.

  Charon’s Ferry refused to move farther into the bay despite the navy’s attempts to tow it. Jenaro boarded the frigate Pride of Caguama and made his way ashore. He was met at the docks by none other than his father and his carib, Agostin, alive and well. Jenaro greeted both with a strong embrace and kiss. Together, the three walked back to the manse. Jenaro told his father of his recent encounter with Maboya and Bibi-Ama.

  “Gueybana would have you arrested,” the BO’ stated.

  Jenaro chuckled. “It is the punishment for the crime I committed.” He paused before asking, “What would you have me do?”

  Josue stopped and turned to look at his son and his carib. He placed his hands on Jenaro’s shoulders and said, “You bested Maboya. You sailed with Bibi-Ama. You no longer need me to tell you what to do. You are my son and you have my blessing, no matter what you decide.” He leaned in close and whispered to Jenaro, “I envy you that ship. It is a treasure I have never before seen.”

  Josue patted his son on the shoulder and continued his walk, followed closely by his guaza. He left Jenaro and Agostin alone on the cobblestone path to the manse.

  Agostin walked off the path and leaned against the nearest tree. “You would not believe what I went through after I disappeared.”

  Jenaro smirked. “Likewise, my friend. And I would love to exchange our tales, but first, we have pressing business.”

  “I have already gathered a few Andoli willing to serve aboard the Ferry,” Agostin stated.

  “You have? I was only apart from you for three days!”

  Agostin shook his head. “It has been more than a few weeks since we were aboard Charon’s Ferry together. Apparently time flows differently in the presence of Maboya. Regardless, you told me to place my faith in your plan. I did just that.”

  “Well then, as soon as I have a bath and a new set of clothes, we’re all set. Have them ready to sail by midday.”

  Agostin grinned and nodded. “And what does our captain have planned?”

  Jenaro crossed his arms on his chest. “I lost my family dagger while on that island.”

  “Along with your finger,” Agostin quipped.

  Jenaro shook his head and smiled. “I plan on retrieving that heirloom.”

  Melinda Kucsera

  Biography

  Melinda Kucsera writes fantastic short stories, novels, and books when dragons and armies of fictional characters aren’t kidnapping her. (They do, on occasion, rescue her.) She’s also written short stories and novellas in iambic pentameter with sonnets instead of paragraphs. Every scribe has quirks. For more books by Melinda Kucsera, visit her website. Visit here for more dramatic rescues and magical mayhem. Every week is a new adventure.

  Beware of the Kraken

  Melinda Kucsera

  At the edge of the world, two fronts clashed. Black clouds mushroomed out of those dueling weather systems, and the wind whipped the sea into a foaming frenzy. Lightning struck and for a fraction of a second, it coruscated on the Veil. It was an ancient, magical shield faintly outlined by the power generating it. Darkness fell, obscuring the woman watching.

  Luminous wings extended from her back. They blushed pink as a sunset before fading to an orangey-gold at the tips. Waves beat against her shrinking island, but she perched on those rocks, frozen by time, as she stared at that invisible shield through crystalline eyes. The constant barrage of wind and weather had tarnished her rose-gold skin and, in places, her metal shell had cracked, revealing her clockwork interior. A key protruded from a heart-shaped hole in her back, and it turned slowly, winding her up just enough to sing.

  “Come and see. Oh, come and see—what changes are upon the sea.”

  No one heard her except the sea. It stretched for thousands of miles in all directions, save one. The Agents of Change were coming, but only she felt them pounding on the gates of this world.

  “Changes come in threes. Yes, in threes. So, come and see—what changes are upon the sea,” she sang softly, but the wind snatched her warning and threw it away.

  Many miles away, Kurago swam like his life depended on it. Because it did. He had to surface right now. But the rising sea was bucking and thrashing like a stampede of watery nightmares galloping away from the storm’s fury.

  They kept crashing over him and shoving him down toward the murky depths he’d just left. Worse still, his lungs strained to expel the breath he’d been holding and his fins were tiring. But he fought on because the air he needed was so damned close. If he could just reach it.

  Just a little farther and he’d breach the surface. Kurago focused on that one goal to the exclusion of all else. He just needed to get his blowhole clear of the waterline before his lungs burst. Too bad his dolphin body hadn’t come equipped with gills.

  Kurago arched his back and used his powerful tail flukes to propel him up. “Just a little farther, then you
can rest,” he told himself as his energy flagged.

  Finally, he breached just as a lightning bolt struck a dark shape on the horizon, turning the stormy night to a purple-hued day. Kurago exhaled through his blowhole then sweet air rushed in, rolling back the dark clouds edging his vision.

  That was too close. Kurago bobbed in the heaving sea, too spent to do anything more than breathe in the air that his body so desperately needed. Lightning struck again and again, in the same spot, leaving brilliant afterimages behind. Kurago blinked to clear them from his sight.

  This wasn’t a natural storm. The thunderheads’ noctilucent glow only confirmed that. Even the humid air was tense, as if it too was waiting for something to happen. A feeling of foreboding swept through Kurago, from his tail flukes to his bottlenose, and with it, a cold dread seeped through his rubbery-gray skin as he watched another bolt land right where the others had struck.

  Something was coming, but he couldn’t put his flipper on what, then he saw a dark shape breaching the surface. She wasn’t the source of his unease, but perhaps she had news that would explain this dread he felt. Omani exhaled the instant her blowhole rose above the choppy sea. Kurago backed up to give the humpback whale more space and received a face full of spindrift for his trouble. A high-pitched song of greeting followed that, and Kurago responded in kind with a whistle-click welcome of his own. He had no idea if Omani could understand it.

  His dolphin ancestors hadn’t bothered to create the long and complicated vocalizations that whales loved to produce, so his greeting wasn't as melodic as the whale’s song. But it got the job done in half the time, and that was what mattered. Whales tended to drone on and on if allowed to, especially Omani, but tonight, Kurago had neither the patience nor the time for that. Something was drawing closer with every breath and it was their job to stop it.

  When the salutation ended, Omani’s eyes lit up. They were blue torches in the vast liquid darkness of her eyes. Kurago felt his own eyes catch that fire as the parley spell settled over him. It forged a two-way bridge between their minds that each could send a focused beam of thoughts down, making it the best way for complicated interspecies-communication to take place at sea. Though it was anyone’s guess whether the parley spell translated their words faithfully, or if it just sent the gist across that telepathic connection. Sometimes it seemed like every word passed verbatim, but at other times, the meaning got lost in translation. Tonight, that spell had better not lose the plot.

  “A bad blow’s coming,” Omani said through the parley spell, and her thoughts passed telepathically to Kurago.

  “I don’t think it’s natural,” he said.

  “Is any storm really natural?” Omani’s eyes held a spark of humor in their liquid depths.

  “You know what I mean. This one feels foul. I don’t like how bolt after bolt keeps striking the same spot.”

  “What spot?”

  “There.” Kurago rolled and pointed with a pectoral flipper, but he needn’t have bothered because another bolt sliced through the darkness at that same moment, and lit up the very anomaly they were supposed to be guarding.

  “I see what you mean. How can it do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And that troubles you?”

  “Doesn’t it trouble you?” Kurago gaped at Omani. A wave rolled under him, lifting him until he was blue-glowing eyes to blue-glowing eyes with the too-calm whale.

  Omani exhaled and water jetted skyward from her blowhole. Before she could answer, lightning struck again and this time, it reflected off an extra-large pair of receding tentacles. Omani gestured with her flipper to that tentacular sentinel and Kurago tried hard not to shudder in revulsion. There was something deeply unnatural about that giant squid.

  “No one’s getting past that beastie tonight. Not while she’s all riled up like that.”

  That was true. The kraken was short-tempered in calm seas and this storm was wild enough to send her into a blind rage. Every creature under the sea had better stay away from her tonight. As Kurago treaded water beside his fellow Watcher, he kept one eye on the kraken. He didn't trust her to stay inside her territory, not while she was so unsettled.

  “What about the creator of that storm?” Kurago asked.

  “He can’t break the Veil. Not even lightning can pierce that shield, no matter how many times it strikes. No magic can.”

  “Not from a distance. What if the caster reached it somehow? Every shield has a breaking point, even that Veil. Surely, if he threw enough magic at it, it would break.”

  “Even if the caster somehow got past squiddy over there, which is impossible, he’d have to be part fish to get anywhere near it.”

  “What if he is?” Kurago felt compelled to point out.

  He had no idea if what he was suggesting was even possible, but there was a cold dread congealing in his gut. Had he been vigilant this night?

  Omani gave him an unreadable look that had no effect on his inner turmoil. True, he was making some rather wild suppositions. But tonight, anything seemed possible. Lightning struck the Veil again, making Kurago’s point for him. Lighting couldn't strike the same spot twice, let alone over and over. That just wasn’t natural, which meant the storm had an unnatural origin, but Kurago knew little about magic beyond the parley spell.

  Perhaps Omani had some insight about that. Silence stretched between their minds. It was an oasis from the too-loud crashing of the waves and the peels of thunder until Omani finally broke it.

  “This fictitious caster could throw every spell in his arsenal and nothing would happen. That Veil is unbreakable by any mage-craft possessed by man and his magical cousins,” she said at last.

  “You’re more traveled than I. Are there mages who are part fish?” Kurago asked, even though he was losing this debate.

  Kurago turned so he faced westward, where the Veil between worlds stood. Lightning slammed into it again, lighting it up for his viewing pleasure. Though, at this distance, there wasn’t much to see. The Veil was supposedly a field of stars rising vertically out of the seafloor that was possibly made up of tiny, luminous creatures called Andurai. They were like the salt in the sea—present in every gallon and just as harmless. Legend claimed they were the building blocks of magic. Since Kurago had never seen the Veil up close, he could neither confirm nor deny if any of that were true.

  “Only a certain Darodred youngling who’s too impulsive for his own good,” Omani reminded him.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You asked if there were any mages who were part fish and I answered.”

  “I heard you the first time, but your answer doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Which part?”

  “What do you mean which part? The part about Damos, of course. He doesn’t have any magic.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve spent enough time chasing him away from places he shouldn’t go. If he had any magic at all, I’d have seen it by now,” Kurago said as another wave rolled under him. “Besides, I wasn’t talking about him.”

  “Well, you should be. He’s the only one stupid enough to make a try for that Veil.”

  “He's not the one sending that lightning.”

  “Only a god can do that. Where is he anyway?”

  “Where is who? The Storm God? Why would I have even the foggiest notion about that?” Kurago waited for a response.

  “No, I meant Damos, of course.” Omani rolled her eyes at Kurago's obtuseness. “Tell me you have eyes on him. His curiosity’s more dangerous than that storm.”

  “What about its sender?” Kurago asked. For now, he ignored the reference to Damos. That young Darodred was the harmless kind of trouble. But the storm was something else and its presence still troubled Kurago. Omani rolled her liquid eyes heavenward again in search of patience.

  “Don't be silly. No one made that storm,” she said.

  “Someone must have. It's too focused to be natural.”

  �
��And I'm telling you that's impossible. There aren't any storm-tamers on any of the nearby islands.”

  Those mages all lived a thousand miles away on the One Continent, and no one had seen the Storm God in a long time. Nor could he be the one throwing lightning bolts at the Veil. Even minor gods needed solid ground to rest on, and there was none in the middle of the sea.

  That nagging feeling that something was awry only intensified as their debate ended. Change was in the air, electrifying it. Like a cresting wave, it would crash down on someone. Kurago tried once more to articulate the problem because that damned parley spell wasn’t translating his thoughts properly. But it was their only means of communication since they couldn’t replicate each other’s vocalizations.

  “Look, I admit that the storm is behaving oddly, but—” Omani raised a flipper when Kurago started to speak. “Let me finish. Storm-tamers don’t have gills and no ships can pass our squiddy frenemy in one piece.”

  Lightning struck the horizon again, illuminating a wall of rippling shadows and constellations of bright sparks that might be the Andurai. It was the Veil, of course. Dolphin lore claimed it was a gateway, but no one had ever confirmed that because a certain kraken attacked anyone who swam near it.

  “I see your point. Even if a storm-tamer sailed out here, the kraken would sink his ship and he’d die before he could swim to shore,” Kurago said as the afterimages faded.

  “Exactly my point. Whereas our young Darodred friend doesn’t need a ship. He’s got fins, gills, and an unquenchable curiosity. Trust me. Damos is the greater threat. He’s the one we need to keep our eyes on tonight.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Because Kurago wasn’t.

  Humans were cunning creatures. The Watchers in the east claimed they were sailing farther from their continent on ships that could run with the wind. And some humans could use magic. Was this storm their doing? That seemed impossible despite the humans’ new ships, but that feeling of impending doom only strengthened. Why didn’t Omani feel it? It was stirring the air and churning up the sea.