by Emma Hamm
“Charity?” Her mouth gaped open as he walked away from her.
Sorcha tried many times to find someone who could point her in the right direction. Women tried to hire her for work, men mostly ignored her as if she didn’t exist. One man even made her stand in front of him and shout to get his attention.
None of them wanted to point her towards a ship marked as the dullahan had claimed. Did it not exist? She wanted to stand on a railing and scream. Someone in this gods forsaken port town must know where a ship with a yellow belly was!
The sun dipped low on the horizon and Sorcha gave up.
Weary and discouraged, she sat on the last dock and let her legs swing above the water. Her pack hit the wooden planks with a loud thunk.
“I just want to find a ship with a yellow belly,” she moaned. She slumped forward and held her head in her hands. “It can’t be that hard to find!”
But it was. No one wanted to help her. Everyone’s eyes were suspicious, and they thought the worst of her without asking who she was, why she was here, what purpose she had in life. Why would people do that?
Her small sheltered town seemed so far away. Its people were backwards and dimwitted, but they were kind. She missed it already, and it hadn’t even been a full day.
Sorcha sighed and tugged on her hair. “You can’t give up Sorcha. Too many people are relying on you.”
She couldn’t force herself to move. Her legs were aching from walking the docks all day. Pinpricks danced across her shoulders and spine from the heavy weight of her pack. Blisters seared the bottoms of her feet.
She might want to continue, but her body was telling her no. There was no possible way for her to get up and keep going, and she hadn’t even found a place to sleep.
“A stunning thing like you must charge a pretty penny for a night.”
“Far too much for you,” she retorted without thinking. Sorcha grimaced and glanced up at the sailor staring down at her.
Dark hair and eyes blended into the night sky. A full beard masked most of his expression, although the gleam of teeth suggested he might be smiling. Dreadlocks pulled the rest of his hair away from his face.
His broad shoulders and chest were bare, and she imagined he was quite cold. A pelt of hair covered him from neck to dark pants. He wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Sorcha’s lips pursed. “Far too expensive.”
“I wouldn’t judge a book by its cover, sweet thing. Just how badly do you want somewhere warm to sleep?”
“Not that bad.” She jerked her pack to her side. “In fact, I’ll go find a place myself. Thank you for reminding me it’s growing dark.”
“You sound like you aren’t from around here, so let me tell you a few things. The docks aren’t safe at night. Even for whores.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“Why else would you be on the docks? Respectable women stay up there,” he pointed towards the candle light of the city. “The rest come down here to play with the likes of me. You look tired, hungry, and travel-stained. You either are a whore, or you will be soon enough.”
Sorcha felt as though she needed to defend herself, or at least the title of whore. “My sisters run a successful brothel in Ui Neill. I don’t take kindly to a man making less of their profession. And as for your knowledge,” she struggled to her feet, “I am looking for a particular ship. I need to travel far from here.”
“A customer?” he chuckled. “Sweetheart, you have to lie better than that.”
“I am not lying! I was told to find the captain of a ship painted yellow and that he would take me to where I need to go.”
“What do you want with the Saorsa?”
She smiled, the name was fitting. “The ship is named Freedom?”
“Who are you?” The man crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. “The Freedom doesn’t take passengers.”
“I’d think that would be the captain’s decision.”
“I am the captain.”
The words echoed in Sorcha’s mind. It couldn’t be. Him? She looked him up and down. “You don’t look like a captain.”
“Have you ever seen a captain before?”
“No.”
“Then you’re a rather poor judge, aren’t you?” His feet slapped against the dock as he turned away from her. “Oh, and by the way, being polite to a captain is a good start.”
Sorcha stared at his back in shock. That was the captain? He couldn’t be serious. She hadn’t just ruined her chance at getting to Hy-brasil without even asking him if he’d take her?
She licked her lips and shouted, “The MacNara twins sent me!”
The captain froze. “Excuse me?”
“The MacNara twins sent me to ask you for safe passage. I need to go Hy-brasil, and they said you are the only person who can get me there.”
The moon floated in the air behind him, outlining his figure with silver. “They were right, but I’m not going to the phantom isle.”
“You’re my only option. I have to go, and I need you to take me. I cannot apologize enough that I was rude, but it’s imperative I go.”
“You can’t even see the isle.”
“You can in six days,” she said. “The dullahan told me. Please.”
He turned back towards her and crossed his arms. “What are you paying?”
“I have nothing to give.”
“Anything in that pack?” He pointed at her bag.
“Personal items, mostly journals. I’m a healer. I can help in any way while aboard.”
Hope blossomed. He was sizing her up as though she was a person, not just a piece of meat. That had to mean something. Perhaps he would take her.
At this point, Sorcha would swim to the damn isle if it meant progress.
A caw startled her. Sorcha flinched and looked at the sky. Outlined in darkness and stars, a raven called out again.
“I thought those only flew during the day,” she whispered.
“Damned Fae,” the captain grumbled. “All right. Fine. Onto the ship with you, but you will help the entire trip. And don’t you forget what I’ve done for you.”
“I won’t service your men on the trip. I’m to have my own quarters.”
“You’ll be sharing mine,” he grunted as he walked away from her. “Having a woman on board is bad luck enough. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Sorcha grabbed her pack and swung it over her shoulder. Blisters be damned, she would make it to this ship. “My name is Sorcha. What’s yours?”
“Manus.”
“The great?” She grinned. “It’s an apt name for a captain.”
“Now you’re complimenting me?” He glanced at her once she caught up. “Women are so damned difficult to understand. One minute you’re blistering my ears off, and the next you’re calling me after some historical figure.”
“You didn’t know the name Manus means great?”
“It’s a name. Who knows what their name means other than themselves?” He must have noticed the pout of her lips, because he added, “What’s yours mean?”
“Radiant,” Sorcha said with a soft smile.
Manus growled again and pointed at a ship out to sea. “That’s mine.”
“How are we to get there?”
“By boat.”
“I don’t see any other ships.”
“You ever been to the sea?” he said, lifting a brow. “You take a rowboat to the ship, and then we’ll climb aboard.”
One more thing she had to do, and then she could rest. Sorcha took a deep breath. This man could be lying to her, she certainly couldn’t see the bottom of the ship to determine if he was telling the truth.
“Okay,” she said. “Show me the way.”
Sorcha rolled to her side, eyes stuck together with sleep, her mouth dry. A scratchy blanket covered her legs and the overwhelming scent of tallow candles made her sneeze. She rubbed at her nose. The slight movement made her stomach roll.
“Oh right,” she muttered. “I’
m on a ship.”
She hadn’t been bothered last night by the constant movement of waves. She’d been too tired to even notice there were men staring at her when the captain dragged her aboard. Her pack was handed off with little complaint, and she didn’t even ask where the captain would sleep. She face-planted onto the cot and propriety be damned.
Her stomach clenched hard and her throat seized up.
“Ugh,” Sorcha moaned as she burped. The ocean was making her entire body rebel now.
It took surprising effort to swing her legs over the edge of the cot. The whole time she held onto her mouth as though the effort would keep the bile in her stomach down. Another burp rocked her body forward and bile burned the back of her throat.
Shaking her head violently, she lunged from the cot and pulled at the door. The fine details of the room didn’t matter. The soft polished statues were left unremarked as she fled from the room and slammed her pelvic bone into the railing.
Vomit streamed out of her mouth and down the side of the ship. Sorcha hadn’t thought there was anything left in her stomach, she didn’t remember eating anything at all yesterday, but she couldn’t stop the vomit.
“Ach, you didn’t even have the decency to hit the water.”
She recognized that voice. Her cheeks stained red, and she wiped at her lips. “I’ve never been seasick before. I apologize if I ruined your ship.”
The man swaggering towards her didn’t look at all like the captain she remembered. Tall and lean, he looked more like a pirate in a book.
Gold hoops swung from his ears. His hair and beard were so dark they gleamed blue in the sunlight. Richly tanned skin glistened with sweat like polished bronze. He had traded his worn pants for a fine cotton shirt tucked into a wide belt above tight black breeches. Knee high boots folded over, covering his knees, and cracked against the deck of the ship as he strode towards her.
Sorcha was tongue tied.
“Manus?”
“Don’t recognize me, pretty thing?” His sleeves billowed as he lifted his arms. “A far cry from how we met, yes?”
“Very,” she agreed. “I can hardly believe it’s you.”
He smiled, teeth flashing brilliant white against the dark tan of his skin. “Ah, that is the greatest compliment you might have given. You found me in a rather compromising position last night.”
“One you are not proud of?”
“I’d never say I wasn’t proud of her.” He winked at her blush. “She is the other half of my heart! Sequestered on the land because the sea refuses to be her mistress. I understand why my ladies fight over me, but, alas, I cannot choose between them.”
The dramatic rendition of his life dissolved Sorcha’s remaining seasickness. Her weak smile bolstered her strength, and she pushed herself away from the railing. “I’m certain they both miss you when you’re gone.”
“Neither of them miss me overly much, but it’s kind of you. If you’re feeling better, I ask that you join me in the center of the ship.”
Sorcha’s brows furrowed. “Why?”
“The ocean isn’t a safe place, sweet thing. We’re sailing into Fae waters and I’d hate for you to be snatched up by a murúch.”
“There are merrows here?” Sorcha flinched away from the railing.
“It’s why the ship is painted yellow,” Manus said. He walked towards her and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Come, let me show you.”
He reached into his pocket and placed a single sprig of heather on the railing. “A gift for the lovely ladies who guide my ship to safe waters.”
Sorcha held her breath. She had always known faeries to take gifts that were offered, but they were always glamoured. Her gifts had disappeared. Running water erased the effects of magic, and she wouldn’t need to use her hag stone to catch a glimpse of the Fae here.
A hand reached up from the edge of the ship. Impossibly pale, its long fingers were joined together by iridescent webbing. Rainbows sparkled upon the merrow woman’s hand as she reached for the purple sprig. She was gentle as she pinched the blossom between her fingers and took it over the edge of the ship with her.
Sorcha’s breath released in a great gust of air. “Was that?”
“It was.”
“But the ship is so tall!”
“We put slats on the edge so they can climb it.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked. “Won’t they drag you down into the ocean?”
“Myths aren’t always the truth, Sorcha. We bring them gifts, they give us safe passage. My men know the rules. New brides are willing only.”
She blinked, surprised that anyone honored the Fae as she did. He read her expression well, the grin on his face was decidedly pleased as he sauntered away.
Free from watchful eyes, Sorcha lunged back to the railing. She squeezed her hand upon the polished wood and stared down into the waves.
A woman clutched the side of the ship, her wide dark eyes staring back at Sorcha with shock. Hair as green as seaweed tangled down her back in wet strands. She held the sprig of heather in her webbed hand. They blinked at each other until the merrow gave her a wide sharped toothed grin and flipped off the ship. The bright flash of a green tail waved in the sunlight, splashing into a wave with one final twist.
Sorcha knees went weak. A merrow. A real merrow had been so close she might have touched her. No hag stone had limited her vision, no glamour had hidden her true form.
Breathless, she tangled her hands in her hair and spun towards Manus. “That was a real merrow!”
“I know,” he said with a chuckle.
“No, Manus that was a real merrow!”
“I saw her as well, sweet thing.”
“That was a faerie, without a glamour, and she wasn’t even frightened of me!”
He tilted his head back and boomed with laughter. “Ah, I was right to bring you aboard! I know a faerie lover when I see one. Come with me, Sorcha. I have something special to show you.”
Manus wrapped an arm around her shoulders when she reached him. The weight steadied her against the gentle sway of the ship. It was massive in her eyes. The deck teemed with twenty men, all rushing from one end to the other. White sails snapped in the wind and stretched taut to guide them across the waters.
They stepped up to the bow and stood behind the masthead. Sorcha leaned against the railing to peer at the wooden woman’s face.
“Is this a faerie?”
“It is,” Manus replied. “So we always remember who has given us this gift, and who guides us in safety.”
“You are close with the Fae then?” Few people would admit their ties to magic. Faeries were viewed as a superstition and believing in them to be child’s indulgence.
“No one is close to the Fae. I deliver items for them, and sometimes people. Like yourself.”
“People? What do the Fae want with people?” Sorcha hadn’t heard this particular secret before. She’d read every book there was on the Fae and spoke at length with anyone who had experiences with them. No one had ever said the Fae requested people be brought to them.
“There’s always something here and there. A famous musician, an artisan,” he cast a glance in her direction, “a midwife.”
She stiffened. “How do you know that?”
“I carried you and your things to my room last night. I deserved at the very least a peek at your belongings.”
“That’s a terrible thing to do.”
“You could have been an assassin, sweet thing. I protect my men and my ship.”
Sorcha couldn’t blame him for that. She would’ve done the same thing if a strange man walked into her brothel. It still felt like a violation of privacy.
She tugged at the hag stone around her neck. “What did you look at?”
“Just a few of the journals. As soon as I realized you were a healer, I let the rest be.”
“You didn’t take anything, did you?”
“Of course not.” He looked offended. “I am neither thi
ef nor pirate. What would I have stolen from you that the sea cannot give?”
Sorcha released the breath she held. The sea rolled, shaking the boat with one great lunge. Sorcha held onto the railing and stared into the dark waters where a shadow moved. “What was that?”
“That was what I wanted to show you,” Manus said. “Have you ever heard of a guardian before?”
“Like a surrogate parent?”
“Like the species.”
Sorcha raised a brow. “No.”
He moved to stand behind her, lifting a hand above her shoulder and pointing towards the horizon. “When the Fae mark a ship, it is guided not just by merrows. A guardian is assigned to the boat. They are half woman, half whale. Their twisted features are terrifying. They can rip a man in half just with their hands.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. They guide our ships towards the Otherworld and ensure nothing else comes with us.”
She wanted to shiver, but his hand was on her shoulder. He would know she was frightened. That was exactly what he wanted. Pulling her leg like this was cruel.
“I don’t take kindly to men trying to scare me,” she said. “I don’t believe you.”
“You should. The guardians are a very real threat, and it is my suggestion that you stay away from the water until we get to your destination.”
Sorcha shook her head. “Which is?”
His hand shifted slightly to the left. “Do you see that?”
How could she have missed it? Mist and storm clouds created a wall in the middle of the ocean. A bolt of lightning cracked through the sky and although they were too far to hear the thunder, she swore she could feel it.
“We’re going there? Why?”
“Because that is the only way into the Otherworld,” he said as he walked away.
“Hy-brasil is not in the Otherworld!” Sorcha shouted.
“It’s on the border, darling! And you have to get close enough to see it.”
She wanted to reach out and punch him. Or grab onto his dreads and toss him overboard. Guardian.
Sorcha snorted, but walked away from the railing. The last thing she needed was another scary story in her head. She had grown up with the dullahan, trooping faeries, changeling children, and all other manner of frightening Fae!