Ghosts of the Sea Moon

by A F Stewart

  Blackthorne barely managed to keep from choking on his brandy. “We’re going to what?!” In his agitation, he didn’t even notice the drop of liquor and spittle running down his chin. “That’s lunacy, even for you!”

  Rafe chuckled at his first mate’s flustered insubordination. “Isn’t it just? But we’re going to do it nonetheless. Don’t worry I have a plan.”

  Blackthorne muttered, “That’s when I worry most,” and downed his remaining brandy in one gulp.

  Rafe chuckled again. “Oh, I think you’ll like it, Blackthorne.” He slipped the Ankara stone out of his pocket and held it to the gaze of his first mate.

  “What is that?” Blackthorne’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his empty glass.

  “The key to everything, my friend.” With a smile, Rafe leaned in and laid out his scheme in detail. By the end of the recitation, Blackthorne’s face reflected admiration, disbelief, and a hint of terror.

  “I was right. It is lunacy. But a lunacy that may work, sir. With skill and a great deal of luck.”

  Rafe smiled. “Well then, here’s to luck and skill.” He raised his glass and finished his brandy.

  THE Jewel came into port late the next day at Tenby Key to weather the night and restock supplies from the disgruntled and fearful townsfolk. Word of the Oracle’s death and what happened after had spread. Not a person looked at Rafe without discomfort.

  The dark night seemed to swallow that unease as the captain stood on deck, his thoughts swirling, Blackthorne by his side.

  “Not an attack by any monster since you battled your sister, sir. They say the seas are quiet.”

  “That’s a blessing at least. And tomorrow we sail to see that they stay that way.”

  “Aye, sir. May all the luck of the islands be with us.”

  Rafe chuckled an unhappy sound. “We’ll need it.” He glanced at his first mate. “Go below and get some rest. We’ll need that too.”

  Blackthorne hesitated. “What about you, sir?”

  “I’ll retire soon. Don’t fuss.”

  “Yes, sir.” And Rafe listened to the man’s retreating footsteps and stared at the stars.

  IN THE EARLY DAWN OF the morning, the ship left port and navigated for open waters, headed to places even the gods feared. Hour after hour, they sailed far past the boundaries defining the Outer Island territories, past where the edges of the After World met the vast ocean, and beyond the threshold of the gods’ domain. The ship navigated from the familiar lilt and rock of the known seas to the wild expanse of the briny deep where madness and aberration made its home. The waters where the magic of the moon and sea monsters held dominion.

  In his usual spot, Rafe stood at the prow looking to the horizon. Behind him, he heard snatches of conversation between One-Eyed Anders at the helm and the newest crew member, Hugh Corbin.

  “Are we truly going to confront the Moon Goddess? After what happened?”

  “Aye, we are. Sailing straight to the Mists of Infinity we are, a swirling mass of fog that’ll steal your wits and have a ship sailing aimlessly in its tendrils ‘til the end of time itself. And we got to cross it to get to where she lives, the Sea of Perpetual Moon.”

  “Perpetual moon?”

  “Aye. Been there only once myself. A long time ago, and in a different life. Nothing but dusk and gloom and the shining moon. The Goddess lives on one of the isles in the Archipelago of Nightfall. Surely you heard about that place. All the stories about them islands make up half the legends spouted by the old salts.”

  “That I know. The archipelago is infamous. The Isle of Bones, Ruins Key, the Island of Stone, the Ghastly Reef, the Sanctuary of Shadows, Obscurity Atoll, and the Haven of Despair.”

  “Aye. All those and many that have never made it into the stories. Captain says it’s the place where the gods were born and where things older than this world once lived. Having seen it, I believe him. It ain’t a natural place, not a place for mortals like us.”

  “But still we sail there.”

  “Ain’t got no choice, have we? Don’t know how else to stop her.”

  The conversation fell silent, and Rafe inwardly sighed. He wished they could turn back, but nothing could prevent what would happen. They sailed on as if on a pleasure cruise until the first tendrils of mist wisped across the sea.

  Rafe gave a shout. “Mists of Infinity, dead ahead. Sound the bell and keep it ringing!”

  Quiet Peter clanged the ship’s bell at a steady interval as the ship entered the mystical fog bank. The air trembled with each peal, pushing outward into the fog, shoving it back and clearing a path through the miasma. Moaning rebounded off the breeze and the haze, and the faint swish of other ships on the water, though no shapes or souls could be seen.

  “What’s out there?” The tiny, frightened cry from Mouse voiced every fear.

  “The long lost past, son, and nothing we can do about it.” Rafe’s voice held pity and grief. “Try not to listen. We won’t be joining them as long as the bell tolls.”

  And true sailing, they did. With each clang of the bell, the mist parted, and they came out the other side into the Sea of Perpetual Moon. The soft, inky watercolour of dusk surrounded them with the twinkling of stars and the light of the moon overhead.

  Gasps drifted on the final notes of the ship’s bell, and Rafe spoke a few words of reassurance. “’Tis only magic, men. A realm where the moon never strays from the sky. We’ve sailed worse.” An uneasy calm settled on the crew, and they struck a new heading, straight towards the Archipelago of Nightfall, the lair of the Moon Goddess.

  The Jewel cut smoothly through the waters, and the sea stretched on as clear and as dark as black glass. From an eternal twilight sky, the lunar light skidded off the surface of the water, mirroring the stars. The pale orb peeked from behind the scanty clouds. Radiance shone like gossamer hairs settling in the wind. Rafe stared at the sky, studying the pale light, admiration and dread warring in his soul.

  “Such a thing of beauty, sister, that you have in your care. And yet, you’ve made it ugly.” He let his whisper fly on a hint of hope and regret. The moon shimmered without answer, silver blue nestled in indigo velvet, a nimbus of frost and gleam, of tinted pearl and silvery sparkle. As if his own echo, Rafe murmured, “Such a beauteous thing, through time and tide,” and turned his gaze back to the sea.

  Mr. Blackthorne approached him on deck, a grim face and no glances for the moon. “All is prepared, Captain. As well as we’re able. We’ll give a good fight when it comes to it.”

  “Pray it doesn’t come to it, Mr. Blackthorne, though I fear it will. Pray we manage to catch her unawares and without her monstrous followers.” The fingers of Rafe’s right hand curled into a fist. “Or whatever else aids her.”

  “I have been, sir, and will continue to pray. To every and any god that will hear me. But you may be the only one listening.”

  Rafe spun a rueful smile. “I may be, Mr. Blackthorne. Let us hope I am up to the task then, shall we?”

  “If I were a betting man, sir, I’d wager on you every time. Even in this lunacy.” And with those words, Mr. Blackthorne gave the captain a nod and took his leave with a smile.

  Rafe watched him go. A mix of pride, affection, and trepidation followed the first mate’s footsteps and he turned and scanned the horizon. Soon, they’d be arriving at their rendezvous with his sister.

  Soon, their plan to abduct the Moon Goddess would commence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Moon and Monsters

  THE SMELL OF THE AIR rippled in metallic quintessence, overlaid with salt, seaweed, blight, and rot. The seawater burbled and swelled grey and green, slapping angrily against the sides of the vessel. Slimy tendrils of a new sickly fog snaked across the ocean, its fingers reaching out to entwine and grasp at the bowels of the ship.

  Rafe glanced over the rail and watched the mist encircle them. “Blighted fog’s coming in, boys.” His voice cast soft, but far to every ear. “It’ll get worse from here o
n out. Cut the sail and come in slow and careful.”

  Like silent cats, the crew obeyed, and the Jewel dropped speed. They kept the course, drifting gently through the waves and fog, the air ever thickening in their forward momentum until velvet banks of haze swallowed the space around them. It blotted the sky and moon, cutting visibility to only a few feet.

  “Steady now, Mr. Anders!” In a sotto voice, Rafe barked the command to the man at the helm, and then, to his crew, gave the order, “Trim the sail and slow her down more! We want her creeping along in this fog. It wouldn’t do to stumble upon a sea beastie without warning.”

  In quick order, the crew complied and the ship slowed to a crawl through the water. The grey vapour puffed like fat floating pillows, spinning past sailor and ship, cold and clammy as it brushed by. Silver strands of moonlight trickled through the cover, casting diffused and grotesque shadows in the undying night.

  The shaky voice of Mouse whispered, “Do you think there are ghosts out there?”

  “We are the ghosts, sonny,” came the answering jest of Pinky Jasper with an accompanying chuckle.

  Then, from a spot beyond the wall of fog, drifted the cackle of a female voice and a string of peculiar nattering tantamount to incoherent rambling. And far in the distance, growing ever fainter, the cawing of a crow.

  Against the ear of One-Eyed Anders, Rafe whispered, “Bring her three degrees to port.”

  Gripping the wheel as if it was his salvation against doom and perdition, Anders complied. The ship angled silently into the new heading.

  The Jewel pushed through the fog, fighting the current, lurching against the swell, as the sea seemed to thicken and curdle into black soup. Icy fingers of wind and murk clutched at the crew and the ship as they stole forward inch by inch against dusky, slurping waters that matched the raven sky peering between the hoary gloom. And echoing from the distance, came undulating cries.

  “Monsters.” The quavering whisper of Mouse broke the unnatural quiet.

  “Aye,” Rafe answered, his voice barely audible, “but not close. Keep on the heading, Mr. Anders. Not much farther, I think.”

  The ship sailed on, her pale outline swallowed in the fog, making her more of a phantom ship than ever before. She prowled the black seas, a silent predator hunting and being hunted. The crew kept her steady, their collective mind on task, focused and vigilant. Muscles strained, clenched jaws strangled any banter, and whitening knuckles played the ropes as friction coagulated the air and atmosphere.

  Then a flicker of moonlight beckoned out of the fog, the pea-soup thinning allowing eyes to see the shine on the horizon line. Anticipation slid in on that light.

  “Look lively, boys. We’re coming out of it, into the fire. Prepare the harpoons and the nets. Mouse,” the boy set to quivering at the sound of his name. “Run below deck and tell the gunners to make ready the cannon.” The lad scurried away, set on his duty, and the rest of the crew primed for war.

  The Jewel glided out of the fog soon after, into a calm expanse of sea. The wind abruptly died away, strangled into stillness, and all noise dissolved into the hush. Nary a usual sound could be heard, not waves on wood nor the soft flap of the sail. Even the breath of the crew faded into the dead air. Only the forward momentum of the ship kept the Jewel moving.

  “Doldrums.” A nameless voice dropped the word like a stone, the fear rippling across the deck. Whispers drifted from man to man.

  “No wind.”

  “What’ll we do?’

  “We’ll be stranded.”

  “Easy prey.”

  “By all the seas...”

  The bones of the ship creaked as her speed slowed in the stillness until she was barely moving at all. Rafe looked at his crew. Fear had chased away all else. Rafe wanted to speak, but the oppressive quiet seemed to have stolen his voice.

  Almost suspended, both in ship and men, the Jewel awaited something, anything. A whine, barely audible, and a splash broke the spell.

  A chill shivered its way through Rafe’s blood, and he dashed to the rail and scanned the waters, reaching out with every sense he had, magical or otherwise. Sure enough, a frisson of power shifted in the air.

  “Man the weapons!” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the seas undulate and ripple, the clear signs of movement barrelling toward the ship illuminated by the moonlight. “Man those weapons! We have sea monsters heading in!”

  His cries fractured the tense calm into chaos, organized and efficient, but screaming chaos. Waves swamped the ship, sweeping across deck, and shadows rose from the water into form. In spray and salt, beasts leapt from the ocean, arcing through the air to slam on deck with a thud, and a screech of rage.

  Rafe drew his sword and shouted, “We’ve been boarded! All hands on deck!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Attack!

  RAFE RUSHED FORWARD, hacking at the tentacles of the nearest sea monster, which slithered out of reach before the blade connected. Another shout echoed behind him as he regrouped, and other men stepped into the fray.

  “Bloody hell! It’s a pack of scuttle-squid!”

  And indeed, seven fearsome creatures squirmed and darted over the wet deck boards, their crab-like pincers snapping, their tentacles grasping, and their quick clacking movements evading blade and club. They swarmed the sailors not manning harpoons or cannons.

  Rafe rushed the beasts and attacked the nearest who hissed and gnashed its toothy jaws at One-Eyed Anders. Rafe slashed its eye with his sword and yelled, “Give them no quarter, men! Send them back to the depths!”

  An answering bellow came from the wounded creature and it reared up, lashing out with its razor-sharp pincers. Rafe dodged, his foot slipping on the wet deck. The broad side of a claw slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet.

  Rafe’s shoulder and side crashed into the wooden deck, and he sucked in a painful breath. Hearing the rush of clattering appendages, he rolled, ending face up. The spectacle of a leaping scuttle-squid filled his vision and Thwack! A sword swished over his head and cut into the beast, shell and sliced tentacles flying. One severed tentacle smacked into a mast, before sliding across the deck. Mouse charged the now floundering monster again, bringing his bloodied sword down repeatedly and hacking the creature into pieces. Blood, meaty flesh, and gore spread a slick film over the deck interspersed with scattered bits of rank squid intestine. Rafe gaped at the sight and gagged from the smell.

  Then One-Eyed Anders bellowed, “Bloody hell! The world is ending! Mouse just killed a scuttle-squid!”

  The boy giggled wildly, and the captain recovered his wits. He roared, “Look lively you two! We’ve still a battle to win. Back to duty!”

  The two scurried off, and Rafe scrambled to his feet, taking care not to slip on squid innards. He retrieved his sword and jumped back into the fray. The deck was awash in gore, the air clinging with a putrid mix of bile, spoiled fish, blood, and salt sea. Shrieks, roars, grunts, and curses clashed with the swish of blades, the thunk of clubs, and the thwack of steel slicing into flesh.

  “Give them no quarter, boys!” Rafe’s sword sliced through the air, arching down into the head of an advancing scuttle-squid, flinging brain matter as he whirled and cut into a wolf eel chomping on the rail. Entrails splashed the deck as the fish creature was carved open stem to stern. Then a black sea wyrm burst from the water, wings flapping, only to be met with the sharp edge of Rafe’s weapon. Blood showered the ship, and bits of raw flesh clung to Rafe’s coat and hair.

  The captain glanced around, seeing more bloodied steel and inhaling the smell of gunpowder. Dead beasts littered his ship, but the crew was holding its own. Rafe smiled. “We’ll win this fight! Do you hear me, sister, we’ll win!”

  A roar came from the sea, answered by the crack of cannon fire from the Jewel. Another bellow and the sea turned red. A myriad of screams echoed off the water.

  “Death to the beasts!” Anders’ shout shook the sails, and the crew cheered.

  Rafe r
aised his sword high in reply to his crewman’s shout. “Aye, death to the beasts!” and then set to backing the words with actions. Side by side, Rafe and his crew stirred mayhem across deck and in the seas, dealing death to their monstrous attackers in a fury of gunfire cannon shot and cold steel. Until naught but creature corpses stained the ship, and the remaining monsters fled.

  “We’ve got the beasties on the run!”

  More cheers rose to the sky, and indeed, the creatures retreated.

  For the moment.

  Still, Rafe let out a sigh of relief and looked around, his breath coming quick and his heart pounding. He saw scattered mess and chaos and injured men, but none dead or eaten as far as he could tell. And yes, for a moment they had a respite.

  He knew it wouldn’t last. He could feel her presence lurking past the edges of the sea and moonlight. Rafe wiped his blood-smeared blade on his sleeve and sheathed the sword. From his pocket, he pulled the Ankara Stone and dropped it in his left hand. It pulsed, and a warm tingle surged across his skin, its weight and power pressing into his palm.

  He took a breath. It’s all or nothing.

  He summoned the magic in his blood, the power flowing upward into his skin and mingling with the stone. Blue arcs of light sparked off the gem’s surface, and it glowed in a sapphire radiance matching his own. His palm burned, and he clamped his jaw against the pain, hissing the binding words through his teeth.

  “Dywch ar werc! Ymerch endr urd!”

  A flash of luminescence and the gem transmuted into energy. It hovered for a moment, a ball of light cradled in his hand, and then melted into his flesh. Power coursed through bone and blood, and he gasped with the surge of sheer force now at his command.

  He looked out across the sea and smiled. With a toss of his head and a reckless dash across the deck, Rafe grabbed a line and swung himself onto the rail, balancing precariously.