Ghosts of the Sea Moon

by A F Stewart

  This time she looked at him, her eyes shining with tears, and sorrow etched on her face. “Yes, you have entry. Sail the whirlpool through to the isle.” And she ascended back to the sky and clouds.

  “You heard her, Mr. Anders! Sail straight ahead into the heart of the whirlpool!”

  “Aye, Captain!” came the answer, and the Jewel cut a path into the churning, spinning waters. The ship bucked like a frenzied beast and the shower of seafoam touched as high as the sails.

  From behind, the captain issued Hugh’s scream of, “Are you mad?” and Rafe chuckled. “Not yet, Mr. Corbin, not yet!”

  The entire crew braced as they entered the maelstrom, but if Hugh or anyone imagined being tossed and torn by the fierce eddy of the whirlpool, or smashed beneath the surface, their expectations ended in relieved disappointment. The ship sailed smoothly as if in calm seas, straight and true, settling into the centre of the vortex.

  Then the ship began to sink.

  One foot. Two feet. Three. Down, down as the sides of the cyclone of sea rose around them like a cocoon so close, a person could reach out and touch the swirling water, although no sane being would try.

  Rafe stood at the prow, anticipation running fire through his blood. “Hold on boys, we’re about to move!”

  A caroming lurch shuddered from the bowels of the ship and beyond, shaking bones of ship and crew and rattling teeth and tack. The vessel powered forward, cradled in the sea of a prison that carried it as if under its own sail. The roiling undertow of water glided through the choppy tide with ease, and the Celestial Jewel came to harbour in a sheltered bay of the island. The whirlpool dissolved, settling the ship to tranquil waters and rocking it gently in the secluded haven.

  Behind him, Rafe could feel the fretful angst of the crew, given voice without warning by Hugh Corbin. “Did we...? Did that happen? How is that even possible?” His words caressed the heavens with a plaintive appeal.

  Rafe chuckled, despite it all. “We did, Mr. Corbin. We did. We sailed the whirlpool gate to the Isle of Shadows. Courtesy of the capricious nature and magic of the gods.” He turned his head to look at the dead sailor. A flabbergasted man stared back as if the ghost had seen a ghost. “You’d best get used to strange occurrences, Mr. Corbin, sailing on this ship.”

  “I believe I’m beginning to understand that, sir. And what peculiarities come next?”

  “Nothing so strange, but waiting. From here I go ashore alone.” He tilted his head to the stern. “Weigh anchor, gents, and lower the longboat.”

  The clattering clank of the anchor chains and the creak of the boat pulleys gave answer, and soon the captain rowed in solitary rhythm to the beach. He pulled the boat far above the high-water mark to avoid any playful and whimsical tide. As he stepped away, a shilly-shally of wind twirled the sand at his feet. A giggle sounded close to his ear. Rafe smiled, despite everything.

  “Is that you, Aryna?”

  Another giggle and then, “Of course, brother.”

  “Come to play at the seashore, Wind Goddess? Swirl the salt air and toss the waves?”

  “Where else would I be on such a beautiful day? To soar the sky and spin the sea foam.” The sand spun a whirlwind, and in bright laughter, Aryna, Goddess of the Wind, made herself visible. Her light silver hair was longer than he remembered, but her taste in diaphanous gowns had not changed.

  “As lovely as ever, sister.” He gave a slight bow and she giggled. “Do you know why I’ve come? Did they send you?”

  “No to both questions, brother. I go where I wish. No one sends me. You know this.”

  “I do. But please tell me, where are the others, Aryna? Together or scattered about the island?” A regretful and resentful sigh crept into his tone, and emotional shadows crossed his face.

  Aryna gave a pout. “Oh dear, so grim. Have you come to spoil my day, brother?”

  “I’m afraid so. Where are they, sister?”

  “They’re all gathered at the old stone temple. I suppose you’re the reason. They’ve been there for days, milling about like lost sheep, muttering about disturbances in the balance. I finally fled their gloom. What does it matter? Catastrophes, shifts in power, the world always rights itself in the end.” She laughed and the wind fluttered her hair.

  “Not this time. The Moon Goddess has gone too far this time. She means to destroy everything. And she’s gained the power to accomplish her goal.”

  “Don’t be silly. She wouldn’t destroy everything. That would be—”

  “Madness.” Rafe finished her sentence. Aryna had the grace to look discomfited. “She sent the Kraken to attack the Sea Portal, sister. To enter the After World. And she attacked me directly.”

  A sharp intake of breath akin to a gale through a sea cave answered his words. Aryna wilted, her form fading to translucent. “She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.”

  “She did.”

  “No. No. I don’t want to listen.” She ebbed even further, disappearing from sight in a flurry of summer breeze. “They’re at the temple. Tell them. Let them handle her.”

  Rafe sighed. Aryna always lived up to his low expectations. Her variable nature constantly kept her flying and unwilling to face problems.

  No point in dwelling, though. I still have to confront the rest.

  He walked on, across the beach towards the lush forest. The trees shimmered, almost beckoning him, their form wavering halfway between tropical splendour and evergreens. As he drew nearer, the underbrush parted, and the ancient path appeared.

  “Showing me the way, how kind.” Rafe smiled and nodded to the verdant forest.

  Trees pulled back their branches, vines separated, and the trail became unimpeded. Rafe ambled off the beach, traipsing through the island foliage.

  The light filtered through the flora, cavorting with shadows on the leaves and flowers. The sweet smell of honey dripped, melding into the sylvan scent of the eternal blooms. A sultry heat glided along the wind currents, and Rafe removed his coat. He walked in idyllic grandeur, accompanied by the dulcet songs of the birds and an occasional rustle in the brush until he arrived at the stone temple.

  There, the beauty of the elemental woodlands met a small clearing, surrounded by a grove of fragrant smelling fruit trees and blooming bushes of crimson flowers. In its centre, stood a building made of grey stone elevated on a black stone foundation. It boasted a colonnade front and an arched roof with a trail of ivy snaking about its girth. Not a grandiose structure. No adornment or etched designs. Simply a rectangular building tucked beneath the clear blue skies and secluded among the trees. Yet, the air around it tingled, almost glittered.

  He hesitated at the edge of the glade, staring at the temple.

  So many memories of this place. So few of them good. Now I add to the pain. I wonder what awaits me inside?

  With a sigh, Rafe walked forward and climbed the set of stone steps to the entrance. He laid his hand on the door, leaving it there for a brief moment, and then pushed it open. The silence of everlasting darkness greeted him. The thick gloom between the realm of the gods and the world of men. It extended down a winding corridor lined with white marble columns and indecipherable whispers. He went in and closed the door behind him.

  “So, I am here.”

  His voice didn’t echo. The inky black swallowed it. Adding it to its collection of reverberating undertones.

  Rafe moved onward, treading through the darkness, chased by murmurs past the edge of sight. The ebony shadows enclosed him in a cocoon, extending a path cushioned in obscurity and blindness, but he knew the way and needed no sight to guide him. On muted footsteps, he made his way to the inner sanctum and stepped over the pitch black threshold of the world beyond. The world he was born into. The world he left behind.

  An illuminated doorway imbued with blue-streaked light marked the end of the passage: the entrance to the chamber of the gods. Arched and opaque, it glowed a soft and radiant amber, suspended between the particles of connecting black. Light spilled into
the sooty ether and cycled from a subsisting arcane core. The door stood as a palpitating sentry, a route from one realm to another imbued with magic and power. And like all good doors, locked against intruders.

  Rafe laid his hand on the undulating surface, the luminosity cold to his skin. For a moment, the chill lingered then pulsed and changed to warmth under his fingers. The light danced along the edge of itself, sending sparks into the darkness, and an oscillating hum broke the silence. The magic wriggled up his arm and sang to the power in his own blood. With a gentle trill, the illumination shimmered to transparent and vanished, leaving an opening to the realm beyond. With a sigh, Rafe walked through the gateway.

  Soft violet mist greeted him, tingling where it touched his skin, swirling around his body as he moved farther into the realm of the gods. He finally stepped from betwixt the worlds into the temple’s private gathering hall, a stark, rotund room of white.

  His family awaited him.

  The first to turn at his arrival, facing him with a scowl, was his father. The great Reis, Sovereign of the Gods. He advanced to confront Rafe. “What in all the realms were you thinking, closing the Portal of the Sea!”

  “Delightful to see you, Father, as always.” Rafe left the bitter in his words. Too much had passed between them to spare feelings anymore.

  Before Reis answered, a flurry of movement pushed forward and his sister, Bevire, Goddess of Shadows and Night, appeared. She sneered at Rafe. “Still disrespectful, I see, and arrogant. You don’t even have the decency to come as one of us but in this guise of a mortal. How dare you show your face after abandoning everything, your family, your name, your home!”

  Long festering anger seethed inside Rafe. “Abandoning you? That’s not how I remember it. I was exiled, sister! Stop rewriting the past.”

  “Be quiet!” His father’s commanding voice interrupted the conversation, and the bickering pair fell silent. Reis repeated his query. “Why did you seal the gateway to the After World?”

  “Yes! Answer the question!” Bevire snapped off one more gibe at her brother.

  Rafe glared, a hurricane of resentment plastered on his face. “You already know why! You just refuse to accept the truth!” Rafe let all his anger and his power show. His family took a step back as the temple sparked in raw blue energy. “Manume! The mad Goddess of the Moon! My sister! Your daughter! She sent her Kraken spawn to the portal! To destroy the After World and consume every soul there! I did what was necessary to protect my domain!” Rafe took a breath and glared, daring anyone to naysay him. “I did my duty as a god, which is more than I can say for any of you.”

  Reis’ scowl deepened, and whispers slid among the other deities. Bevire sniffed, “I don’t believe it. You must have overreacted. This mess is simply between you and our sister. It doesn’t involve us.”

  “Not anymore.” Rafe met her disdain with his own. “Something has shifted in the balance of power. You may think it is safe, hiding here while Manume wreaks havoc in the mortal world, but you can’t hide anymore. Something else has stirred from the darkness.”

  Bevire shot him an incredulous look, but Rafe noticed his father’s worried brow. His tone softened as he added, “Both our worlds are in danger. Whatever the reason, her creatures have attacked shrines and towns. They’ve broken their bindings. If you think you are immune to her madness, you are wrong. She’s coming for us all. I believe whatever aids her means to destroy all realms.”

  “You are spouting ridiculous prattle,” Bevire snorted. “And what do I care of shrines and towns? Your talk is nothing but fanciful nonsense conjured from folly! Do you have proof she works with outside forces? Do you? That this is more than just your continual feud?”

  “Only the fact Manume attacked me directly and came within a wind’s whisper of beating me.” He let the shock of that statement sink in and then added, “If Lynna hadn’t intervened, I would have lost the battle.” He glared at Bevire. “Now tell me she does not have aid in her latest madness.”

  Bevire gasped. “You lie! That can’t be true! I won’t believe it!”

  “Believe what you like. It makes no difference. I did not come here to debate. I am simply declaring my intent of war.” He let the words wash over the assembled company of gods, and saw another shocked hush settle on those gathered. “I would ask your help, but I will fight her regardless of whether you grant it.”

  His father was the first to speak. “It has truly come to this?”

  “Yes.”

  Rafe watched Reis close his eyes and let out a breath that contained an infinite scope of sorrow, regret, and pity. “Such was my fear. I wished it not to be so, but my bones told me otherwise.” Another soft, lingering sigh. “So be it. Do you plan to end her existence? Safeguards will have to be put in place for subsequent ramifications if you plan on taking her life.”

  “I considered it, but as you said, ramifications...” Rafe grimaced in distaste, a harsh and sour gesture. “A death battle between us could do everlasting harm to the realms.”

  “Then what is this nonsense about war!” Bevire slung another barb but with far less confidence this time.

  “There is no nonsense, this war has been coming for a very long time. I may not mean to kill her, but I will defeat her, and whatever else stands in my way. The destructive reign of the Goddess of the Moon ends! Her power as a goddess will end!” He put bravado into the words, even knowing they were hollow. He had no idea how to stop his sister.

  Exclamations resounded off the walls from all the assembled gods, guttural noises of shock and spat words laced with indignation and disgust. Rafe ignored it all. He was watching his father’s reaction.

  His father stared, melancholy and relief etched in his expression, his mouth pursed in not quite a frown. Then a look akin to resignation flickered in his eyes. “If you mean to do that, you’ll need the Ankara Stone.”

  More gasps charged the room, and Bevire shrieked, “You can’t give him that!”

  Reis turned to his daughter. “I can do what I like.” The soft tone belied the warning in his voice, but Bevire ceased her protest.

  Satisfied, Reis closed his hand and it glowed with an exquisite silver light. A luminescence so beautiful it rivalled the spark of twinkling starlight scattered across a halcyon sea. The warmth and scent of a blossom coated summer wind infused the hall, and the notes of a honeyed song older than the islands serenaded their ears.

  After a few minutes, Reis opened his hand and the magic ceased. On his palm, sat a circular stone, pearl-white and two inches in diameter. “Take it. Use it wisely and as you will.”

  Rafe stared at the stone, at his father. A realization snapped to his mind. “You knew. You knew all along.” Accusations dripped off his tongue with his words.

  “The world cannot shift this much without my knowledge, God of Souls. Of course, I knew. But knowing and believing are far apart sometimes.” Reis stepped closer, leaned in and whispered in his son’s ear. “And some knowledge cannot be acted on. The worlds are far more complex than you wish to believe. Destinies are built on choices, and this destiny was never mine.” Reis stepped back and held his hand.

  Confused and angry, nevertheless, Rafe plucked the stone from his father’s outstretched palm. It felt cold and light. He held it between his fingertips and studied its glittering surface.

  I could destroy them all with this.

  The quiet of the damned blanketed the room save for the anxious whimper of Bevire. They all waited on him. Rafe inhaled, let the breath out, and placed the stone in his pocket.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “You were right. From the beginning.” The words surprised Rafe, and the sad smile on his father’s face acknowledged the admittance laden within the words. “This has to be done. It should have been done a long time ago. I wish you fair winds and a stronger spirit than mine in this task, my son.”

  Rafe bowed his head, in respect of his father and of his tacit confession of guilt. When he raised his head, their e
yes met in a locked gaze of sadness as deep and wide as any ocean. Rafe circled about and left the temple without another word.

  The beach was empty as he returned to the longboat. No sister or summer winds ruffled the sands of the shoreline. He rowed back to the Jewel on placid seas and clambered aboard amid barely audible sighs of relief.

  “Is it time to weigh anchor and be rid of this place, sir?”

  “Aye, Blackthorne. I got what I came for. Turn her about and head west. The seas will lay in our course and head us home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Sea of Perpetual Moon

  “WELL, IT’S DONE. AND for once they agreed without much fuss.” Rafe poured himself a second glass of brandy. Blackthorne, sitting on the other side of his desk in the captain’s quarters, still sipped on a first glass. Around them, the gentle rhythm of the sea rocked the boat like a tranquillity before the coming squall.

  “So, it’s a go then, sir? We’re truly moving against the Moon Goddess?”

  “Yes. May all the stars and seas help us, but yes.”

  “What’s it to be then? A direct assault? Begging your pardon, sir. I know she’s your sister, but will we be using lethal force and putting an end to her? It didn’t fare well the last time we battled her.”

  “Now that would make it simple, wouldn’t it? One battle, winner takes all. But as in most things, Blackthorne, this endeavour won’t be that simple. We kill her, and shockwaves will shiver throughout the realms with serious consequences for magic. Possibly catastrophic, permanent consequences. In addition, her death leaves her monstrous children unchecked. She dies, and whatever’s left of the spells that bind their actions, could snap. Her death could very likely leave them roaming free creating mindless havoc.”

  “Not a happy thought. So how do we fight her?”

  “That, my friend, is where the affair gets tricky.” Rafe swirled his brandy and took a sip. “We’re not going to fight her. We’re going to abduct her.”