by C F Welburn
“We should go back,” Kolak urged grimly.
“We’ve no choice,” Balagir said. “They’ve been drawing our ship all night. I fear we’d only find ourselves back here once more. We must deal with them, see what they want.”
“And if they want our blood?” Drak asked.
“Then let them try,” Balagir responded, tapping his sword. Goffle simply sat and made disgusting sucking noises with his puckered cheeks. Even a siren’s charms might be nullified on such a loathsome specimen.
Once the gentle surf ushered in their boat and grounded it on the pebbled shore, they alighted, knee deep in the chill waters. The women waited, smiling and unarmed.
“Welcome, men of Greatwater,” the tall, slender women who had watched their slow advance greeted. Balagir, still in his captaincy role, assumed the lead.
“Greetings, fair lady. We beg pardon for our intrusion, but our ship has gone astray. We’re merely stopping to gather our bearings.”
“You’re most welcome. I am Galadel.” She curtsied gracefully. Her long golden hair was adorned with shells, her clothes as delicate and revealing as kelp, and her necklace an alluring string of pearls. “We welcome you to Loral. Our homes are humble, but our hospitality is warm.”
“Then we thank you, Galadel. I’m Balagir.”
“And your fine companions?” she asked, eyeing them one by one.
Balagir dutifully made the introductions.
“Forgive my presumption,” he said once he was done, “but where are your men? I find it odd, confronted by such beauty, that you should be alone.” Galadel blushed, and her bosom swelled beneath the flimsy sea grass garb. Something stirred within Balagir, a longing to hold her.
“Our men are all fishing,” she explained. “Please, you’re wet. Come warm yourselves at our fires.” He stepped forward, but Kolak caught his sleeve.
Be careful. His sharp jaegir eyes warned. Goffle and Drak were already halfway up the beach, as rapt as puppies following a sack of treats.
The huts were crude, but cosy. Balagir followed Galadel inside, and she began to help him out of his wet clothes. He let her. He wasn’t concerned his companions had been led to other huts, nor that he was alone. He just noticed the fragrance of her hair, the softness of her skin, the tingle of her fingers as they traced the scar on his shoulder. He had wanted to ask her something, but it escaped him. She leant over so her breast brushed his arm, his head swam.
He barely recalled why they had come, but he was content they had. This was far more preferable to his cramped lonely cabin. Her breath was sweeter than the ship’s best wine, her face like poetry in contrast to Goffle’s. Memory of the ugly ashen cleared his mind for a moment. Where were the others? Why did it matter? He breathed in her intoxicating scent. She kissed his chest, and he leant back and closed his eyes, sighing as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his heart.
Later, they lay beneath the soft fur sheets.
“Galadel, let it be said that the women of Loral are the finest treasures I’ve encountered. Your hospitality knows no bounds. But will not your men be nettled at our intrusion? For such beauty is surely coveted.”
She laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made him tremble.
“And let it be said that Balagir of Greatwater has an eloquence that flatters and charms.”
He smiled, delighted at her compliment and with a desire to further please her.
“My journey has been long, but you’ve eased my eyes against the horrors I’ve seen. I’ll use these memories to bolster me in dark times ahead.”
“You do not intend to leave so soon?” she breathed softly against his neck. “You’ve barely arrived.” He could not argue.
“I see no need to rush, we are deserved of a rest. I cannot help wonder, however, what it is you want in return?”
She smiled. “We seek only your company. And that for as long as you stay, you aid our men with their fishing.”
“Fishing?”
“Yes. They leave at dawn and return to feast and enjoy our appreciation for all they’ve caught.”
“It seems a fair deal. I’d have to consult my men.”
“Balagir, you strike me as a leader. Surely you need not the approval of your men to make such simple decisions.”
He thought and shrugged. “You’re right. We need a few days’ rest. I’ve already made my decision. They’ll be of an accord, I’m sure. The road has been hard and will likely be harder still. We must use these moments of respite gladly. Like a break in the clouds on a stormy day.”
She purred, stroking his arm.
“Then relax, my leader of Greatwater. Let me show you how the sun feels through such a break.”
The next morning, he went about his fishing duties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Indeed, he never once questioned his decision, and felt calm and at peace. As Galadel waved him off from the shore, he already longed to be back at her side and earn her favour by returning with the choicest of catches. He saw other men going about their duties, equally as contented. Several boats bobbed on the waves, expressions of intent as the men inside each sought to impress their hostesses. He saw Drak once, and several men he did not know. None questioned what they were doing. The wisdom and why of it. Nothing mattered more than pleasing their lady; than the praise and caresses they would receive upon their return. Thus, they laboured long and hard, for no other reason than gaining favour back in the warm huts.
Before long it became routine. He would wake at dawn to fish, to float and dream of the one who awaited him. Upon their return, the men would wait as the women inspected their catch with keen interest at the shore.
He always sensed Galadel’s disappointment, and his heart would sink, pledging to redouble his efforts the next day. But then she would smile, and the world was right again, and they would eat and return to the hut, and this became the cycle of things.
He knew time was passing, for he had not lost his mind; neither was he drugged as in Estwil by the succubus’s wine. But he ceased questioning it. Why sail on searching for something he did not even know? And even if he found what he was looking for, could it ever be as consoling, as fulfilling as this? What if he had already reached his reward; the solace, the tranquillity. Searching further would bring only hardship and disappointment.
Occasionally he would see Drak or Goffle, but they had little to say to one another. They shared the sentiments and were happy here. Nothing needed to change.
One morning he recognised Res and Imram and concluded that they must have grown bored of waiting and joined them. They had clearly taken to life on Loral. It was good. Each day he strove to catch more fish, and even though she continued to show disappointment at each inspection, she would always reward him in ways that made even smoke seem vapid. Alone on the sea, he might sense an emptiness, a longing for the piper’s tune, but the nights were full of distractions.
At times he would stop and shake his head at details amiss. Such as when he saw Goffle in the arms of a resplendent woman. Then he would dismiss it. Who was he to question happiness? They were all content. Even Res, who disliked dry land, pined not for the Spite Spear; and books seemed to be the furthest thing from Imram’s mind when he disappeared into his hut at dusk.
One morning, when Balagir was about to go fishing, he recalled he needed a new line. Something stronger to hold a bigger catch. Gaining Galadel’s praise had become his driving force and was more incentive than any other prize. He doubled back to the hut, finding the beach unusually quiet now all the men had gone. The women too were absent. He had never thought about how it was they occupied themselves in the day whilst the men were away. He passed by a statue of a sword-nosed fish, towards a hut he assumed stored supplies.
“Sssssss! Balagir,” came a low hiss. He turned, uncertainly. For who could that be? It sounded like a man, but surely they were all fishing. He went around the back of the hut and found a small cage. Peering within, he jerked back when he met two fierce eyes.
“I thought you’d never come.”
Balagir squinted down at the jaegir as though it were something inexplicable.
“Kolak? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you fishing?” Kolak shook his head in despair and rattled the cage.
“Can’t you see? I’m held prisoner here.”
“But, why? The ladies are so gracious. Have you done something to offend them?”
“Wake up, Balagir!” he barked, rattling the bars. “Can’t you see? You’re spellbound. All of you. We must get away at once.”
“Away?” Balagir repeated, frowning. “Why would we want to do that? Haven’t they treated us well? Why are you in there? What have you done?”
“Nothing more than being a jaegir. I’m not prone to their beguilements. Hence...” He gripped and rattled the cage once more.
Balagir narrowed his eyes. “You mean they’re not attracted to you and you wish us to leave?”
“Pah! Jaegir or no, I’m comelier than Goffle on the blackest of nights. It’s a question of perspective. They hold no sway over me, thus I endanger what they have going here.”
“Precisely what is it they have going here?”
“Snap out of it! These creatures are strong. Wilful.”
“Creatures?”
“You believe them women?” He rolled his eyes. “Then we are doomed.”
“Women, yes. Fair and generous. Now, if you don’t mind, I must leave. I’ve promised Galadel a catch to impress.”
“Then set me free. Let me go. I’ll return to the ship and await you there.”
Balagir hesitated. “I don’t know, Kolak. I mean, what would our hosts say if I released their prisoner?”
“It’s me, Balagir, your companion! Your shipmate. Remember the haryek? The Spite Spear? The wine we shared? You can’t leave me here.”
“Sorry, Kolak,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t risk Galadel’s ire. But I do remember the times we’ve shared. That’s why I will speak this night with her. I’ll ask her to release you.”
“She’ll turn you against me. Can’t you see what’s happening here?”
In a way he could, but in another, it didn’t seem important. All that mattered was catching the fish and pleasing his hostess. He was wasting time; the other men would be far ahead.
“I must go,” he said, backing away. “I’ll speak of you. She’ll set you free.”
Kolak snarled, kicking the bars.
“Have you forgotten the fire? The smoke? What we are doing? What about Shale, the isle you wanted to visit?”
Balagir shrugged. “A man can spend his whole life looking for something, to realise he once had it, but wanted more. I aim to be content with my lot. I’m tired of the road.”
“That’s not you talking, Balagir,” Kolak warned. “That’s a man bewitched.”
Balagir straightened. “Do not speak ill of Galadel,” he said sternly. “Now, I’ll do as I said, and trust to my lady’s judgement. Delay me no more.”
Kolak growled, frustrated. “Why do you think they keep you at sea all day? Where do you think they go? I implore you, go to the far side of the island, for that’s where they head. Go see for yourself what they would not wish you to know.”
Balagir’s curiosity was quenched beneath the uneasy thought of returning with no fish.
“I’ll speak also of this, Kolak, fear not. I’ve already fallen behind.” The jaegir groaned and sagged, defeated in his cage.
Balagir meanwhile seized the supplies he had come for and sprinted breathlessly to the beach, so that he may make up for lost time.
That night, as they curled naked beside the fire, Balagir remembered the jaegir’s words.
“I saw my friend today. Kolak.” When she looked at him blankly, he prompted, “The jaegir.” Galadel’s expression changed as a meadow darkens when a cloud blots the sun.
“How? You were upon the water all day.”
“True, but I nipped back to find some bigger lures. I’ve an idea that—”
“What did you see?” she asked, a heaviness to her voice that sat oddly with his satisfied state.
“Nothing.” He shrugged, stroking her hair. “But my friend, he seems to think you’ve imprisoned him. I assured him of course there must be some mistake—”
“There’s no mistake,” she said, pulling away. “We do not trust the creature. He’s an unpredictable entity on our island. We’ve done it to protect ourselves. Can’t have him running amok.”
“But what’s he done? I’ll admit we’ve not known each other long, but he’s never given me reason to doubt him.”
“Then it’s just as well we’ve saved you. Oh Balagir.” She sighed, resting her head on his chest once more. “You’re a good man. It’s natural that you look for the good in others. I shouldn’t want to change you.”
“So, you truly believe him dangerous? Why not set him on his way? He can take my ship—”
“We fear what he’d do when out of the cage. We’ll not risk it.” Balagir seemed at a loss. He tried to argue, but she put a finger across his lips, whispering, “It’s not only for ourselves we fear. We want to protect you. You who have come to our island and accepted our hospitality.”
“I appreciate your concern, Galadel, I do. But surely there must be another—”
“There isn’t. We’ll not make the same mistake twice. You shall not change my mind on the matter, so better we not bandy. You’ve had a long day. Let me massage your shoulders.”
He let her knead the knots from between his shoulder blades; his mind drifted, his eyes closed. Hadn’t there been something else he had wished to say? His eyes popped open.
“Kolak told me to go to the other side of the island. That I might—” She stopped what she was doing so abruptly that he ceased talking and turned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You must never go there,” she said in a chilling tone.
“But maybe the fish there—”
“Never!” she said, her nails digging into his arm, drawing blood. She looked down at the wound and began to sob.
He pulled her closer, pushing her hair back and whispering in her ear, “Calm yourself, dear.”
“You must promise.”
“I do,” he soothed. “Shhh. Shhh. Everything’s all right.”
They stayed that way for some time; feigning sleep; staring into darkness with troubled minds.
The next day was the same as the last, save for a nagging unease that had awoken in Balagir’s heart. The other men looked happy enough. Goffle whistled tunelessly as he fixed his nets. Drak had a lopsided grin over his tattooed face. Imram, whose arm had fully healed, leapt into his boat with such relish it almost capsized. The sun was shining, other men, strangers all, contentedly waved goodbye to their women.
He couldn’t put his finger on why he felt so odd, but as he bade Galadel farewell, he couldn’t shake the image of her the night before. Her fear that he would discover something. Something they were going to great pains to conceal. He glanced down at the nail marks in his arm and forgot about fish.
Once the beach was out of sight, he began to row furiously around the headland until he reached a small cove. From there he went on foot along a shale beach, over some rocks, skirting the cliff face. He moved with haste, conscious that his lighter catch might be noticed. He came upon a windswept copse of trees, from which he could peer down on a shingle beach.
He saw nothing and cursed himself for doubting Galadel, but just as he was leaving, a small shape caught his eye. Several small shapes in fact, uncannily human in form. No larger than babies, they crawled, dragging themselves like slugs. They were not pleasant to look upon. Their heads were swollen and misshapen, their naked flesh mottled and oozing with sores. One of them wailed, a sound that raised hackles. There were perhaps a score of the creatures slithering around. Then, larger shapes detached from the trees. The women, he realised, scanning anxiously for Galadel. She descended with the others towards the grotesques. What was she doing h
ere? His curiosity turned to dread as the malformed babies spotted her and wormed over with the lurching agility of fat-bodied spiders. He had drawn his sword and was preparing a rescue when he saw that they were calling them. Transfixed, he could only watch as, one by one, the women bared their chests and the travesties latched on to suckle. His skin crawled. Once the feeding frenzy was done, the creatures wriggled away, slobbering.
Balagir cursed his curiosity as he stumbled back to his boat. Some things could not be unseen, and the image of Galadel feeding the obscenity was forever seared on his mind.
His catch was poor that day, but that was the least of his concerns. As he emptied his net, he forced a smile. He could not let Galadel know he had seen. She would never forgive him. But everything had changed. Could he lie with her knowing what he knew? Could he seek comfort at her bosom again? He wanted to see Kolak, but they were too closely watched. Instead, he waited as the women prepared the fish, eating without relish and reluctantly returning to the hut.
“You seem distracted, my love,” Galadel spoke, nibbling his ear.
“I think the fish was bad.”
She looked at him with a tilted head.
“Lie back. I’ll comb your hair.”
He let her, trying to remember how pleasant had been her touch before he had seen her with the creatures. What were they? But then a disturbing notion occurred. They were the mothers. It made sense—their lactation, their blindness to ugliness. Then who were the fathers? The men who fished? A cold sweat crept over him. How long had they been here? No, impossible. Ashen could not sire children. And he would have noticed if Galadel had been with child. But neither fact put his mind at ease, and he slept very little that night.
The next day, when he knew where the women would be, he sneaked back to Kolak’s cage. The jaegir took a moment to focus.