Ghosts of the Sea Moon

by A F Stewart

  “It’s time for a reckoning, sister!” His shout careened past the moonlight, off the swells and shrieking monsters, straight to the ears of the Moon Goddess.

  She answered with cackling laughter.

  Suddenly, the sea was awash with a brilliant silver moonbeam, and she appeared in the sky, to the port side of the ship. She hovered, illuminated in pale, white radiance and robes the colour of a summer sky, her silver hair wildly flowing. All eyes fixed on her, Manume: the fearsome Goddess of the Moon.

  “Little brother, little brother! Come to play? Here I am waiting! Will we battle? Yes, we will! Battle! Battle! Make the stars quake and the seas rattle!”

  She flew past the ship on moonlight and whirlwind to open sea. Her beasts silenced their screeching and sank beneath the surface of the ocean. She floated there in the distance, three feet above the sea, arms spread, a crooked smile on her face.

  “Come and play, oh, brother!”

  Rafe whispered, “I’m coming,” and leapt from the rail of his ship.

  Chapter Twenty One

  A Reckoning

  THE SEA AIR GREETED him like wings above the dark waters. On a cascade of blue light and magic energy, he descended to the sea, halting inches above its surface. He hovered for a moment, and then Rafe propelled himself across the ocean’s surface towards his sister. He skimmed the surface, sending a spray of water in his wake, and came to a stop five feet from his sister. He drifted upward until they were both the same height over the water.

  “Your madness ends here, sister. No more mortals die. No more souls will be devoured. We end this.”

  “So brave. So brave. But no match, no match. Did you forget?”

  Rafe smiled. “No. But you may be surprised this time.”

  “Tricks or clever words? No matter.” She spun around with a laugh. “It’s you or me, little brother. You and me. Always been. Always been. Yes, yes. One or the other. You or me.” In an instant, her glee turned to a roar, a strident shriek of hopeless perception and pain-fuelled rage. White hot incandescence filled the sky and the space between them, churning the sea below their feet.

  “You or me! At the end!” The furious energy burst forward, hurtling towards Rafe like a hurricane.

  He barely shielded in time, but the force of her magic still flung him through the sky like a child’s toy. In panting breath and flailing limbs, he righted himself and whirled back to face her. She snarled, the growl echoing across the divide that separated them, another bolt of energy slashing at Rafe.

  He dodged her blow and threw a taunt back on the wind. “Is that all you have, sister? Weak. Very weak. My turn.”

  Electric fire pulsed from his fingertips and streaked across the sky in a lightning fast arc to strike at his sister. She spun away, but the energy’s edge caught her arm, tumbling her into the ocean, all white light and spuming water. In an ejecting fountain of sea and shrieks, she re-emerged, chasing the clouds upwards. Her shrieks reverberated wide and far along the archipelago.

  “No, no, no, no! Not strong! Not anymore!” She lifted her head and wailed, her words shattering the clouds above her and then swivelled to stare down her brother. “I hate you! Why can’t I ever be rid of you?”

  “You will never be rid of me, sister!’ Rafe raced forward on blue glimmers and vapour to intercept her, tapping into the Ankara stone as he soared.

  The sky around him glowed in a deep cerulean luminescence, and the air shimmered in primal magic. Dragged in his wake and from beneath the sea, rose a song born of loss. A final lament. The last dirge of the departed.

  The voices of lost sailors, of lives murdered, snuffed from existence, of souls forever obliterated wailed. The unfathomable sorrow of buried misery ascended from the watery depths, the indelible echo of sentience erased. Long dead tongues shrieked notes of bereavement, of something precious, stolen from the world. The sound burst from the sea in a fury, a maelstrom fuelled by Rafe’s magic, and shot like an arrow at the Goddess of the Moon, guided by Rafe’s desire. He slung the overwhelming force at his sister.

  With a snarl, she tried to counter with a magic energy of her own, but the song smashed through her shielding. White sparks and yowls struck her a palatable blow and her body shuddered before spinning like a whirlpool. She screamed and flew erratically across the sky, plummeting towards the water below. She skidded across the surface alight in sound and friction, Rafe’s magic shivering along her skin.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

  “I cannot.” Rafe closed his eyes and whispered, “Inacean arian, inacean arantu, inacean arandraich arfadh tamil.”

  Filaments of white emerged from his hands, weaving themselves into a wider strip of energy. One more whispered word, “Taighc” and the power darted into the air, seeking his sister.

  Tortured by the resurrected voices and their weeping requiem, she had no defence for Rafe’s new attack. The strand of magic flitted through the air and wrapped around her throat, tightening into a circle on her skin. It penetrated into her blood and bone, spearing through the fibre of her magic. It throttled and blocked the conduits of her power, breaking the bonds between her mind and her innate, god-fuelled energy.

  Her final scream reverberated off the fabric of the world and beyond, with an answering echo bellowed from the After World. All the voices of drowned shipwrecked sailors and their kin. Her own name shrieked in her ears, the anger and fear of the dead and the vanished singing in her head. Vile words beat at her, accusations, slurs, and pleas pierced her like barbs, sapping her magic, bleeding her dry. Piece by piece, she surrendered. Piece by piece the Ankara Stone’s magic repressed her power. She dropped from the sky like a tossed rock.

  Yet, as she fell, deep within her thoughts, Manume heard the echoing caw of a crow, and a sliver of red slipped beyond the sight of gods. Then the sea engulfed her.

  The shock of the cold water brought her to her senses, and the voices disappeared. She swam upward, breaking the surface to see her brother hovering above her.

  She yelped a squeal of rage that quivered the substance of the world from the depths of the ocean to the clouds above. “No, no, no! How did you do this?”

  “Don’t you know? Can’t you feel it?” Rafe made a fist, letting the power of the stone flow into his sister through the band around her neck.

  “No. It can’t be.” She glared and snarled. “The Ankara Stone?”

  Rafe nodded.

  “How? How did you get the Ankara Stone?”

  “Father gave it to me.” His words dropped like a fallen god, making ever-widening ripples.

  “Father gave...” Her voice trembled with heartbreak and envy, loss and betrayal. “And now it ends. Am I to die, then? Burned to dust, scattered on the seafoam? Swallowed by your precious ocean?”

  “No. You don’t end that easily, sister. Not after what you’ve done.” Rafe sneered, ugly and bitter leaking past his words. “You will live, but not as you are.”

  Rafe met his sister’s eyes and tapped the power of the stone once more. He felt the heat touch his skin, saw the shadow of the burning blue light against his eyelids, and heard his sister’s frightened whimper. He watched her fade into unconsciousness and quickly retrieved her body from the sea.

  He glided through the air, carrying her on board his ship. The crew kept their distance, but Mouse piped up, “Is she dead?”

  “No, but incapacitated for now.” Rafe laid his burden on deck. “I’ve temporarily repressed her powers.” A strange looked crossed his face as he stared down at his sister.

  She looks so peaceful. I’ve not seen her look like that in a long time.

  “What are we to do with her?” The bitter voice of Hugh broke past his thoughts.

  “For now it’s the brig. The binding’s not yet a permanent condition, so we’ll arrange her a cell. I need to prepare some things before I eliminate her powers forever. Until then, we’ll keep her on board, safely locked away.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Blackthorne straightened his
spine, and snapped, “Anders! Pinky! Down below and prepare a cell!” He sidled up to Rafe and whispered, “How long?”

  In an answering murmur, the captain replied, “A day or two at worst. We have enough time.”

  Then he bent down and scooped up his sister, taking her below deck.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Prisons

  HUGH CORWIN STOOD AT the top of the steps leading to the brig, wondering if this was a good idea. Above him on deck, he could hear the sounds of victory and cleanup. He should be with the crew. No doubt, someone would notice him missing.

  I’ve come this far. Might as well do it.

  He walked slowly down the stairs, his boots clunking what seemed a thunderous echo on the wood. At the bottom of the steps he stood in the shadows. Afraid to venture farther. Part of him wished there was a guard on duty to send him away.

  Hugh heard a scraping noise. Then a soft intake of breath and a faint giggle.

  “Oh, my.” A woman’s breathy voice rippled the silence. “A visitor. Brother?”

  Hugh didn’t answer, wondering for the thousandth time if he made a mistake. As he shuffled his feet, he heard a sniffing sound.

  “No, not brother. Sailor. Come to see the prize? Show yourself.”

  Obeying, Hugh moved closer to the brig, drinking in his first close look at the Goddess of the Moon. His body trembled as anger and anguish warred in his soul.

  She crouched in the cramped cell, her face contorted and her mouth drawn in a perpetual snarl, her fingers scratching at the binding spell around her neck. Her silver hair hung in tangles across her face and past her shoulders, and Hugh noticed tatters in the faded blue robes she wore. But somehow she still radiated a fierce beauty, and her essence shimmered light that both enveloped and illuminated the gloom below deck.

  “Oh, a little ghost. Come to gawk. Stare, stare, little ghost. At the mother of your nightmares.” She laughed, her face contorting into a rictus mask. “Gape and glare, get a good look. It might be your last. Or mine.” She suddenly dug her fingernails into the wooden floor and gouged grooves in the boards. She lifted her fingers, bloodied, and laughed again.

  “Does that hurt?” Startled, Hugh spoke without thinking, and it caught her attention.

  She cocked her head, “Yes.” For a moment her face softened. “But pain is reliable. I know pain. Pain and I are old companions.”

  Sudden misery bubbled up, and a faint melancholic sigh escaped him. “That I understand. Sometimes pain is all you have left.”

  A puzzled look bloomed. “What do you know of pain? You are dead. Your pain is done.”

  This time, Hugh laughed. A bitter and sour echo of everything taken away. “My pain started with my death. I lost everything. Alive, I had a new bride and a lifetime of hope and love. Now I have ash and what could have been. And knowing she’ll live our life with someone else.”

  She scooted forward an inch or two, curious now. “You lost a love?” Her hand reached out, her fingers sliding against the cold metal bars. “A broken heart? Forever apart? How does it feel, little ghost? Tell me.”

  Hugh hesitated, and then the words poured out. “Empty. Pointless. Frightening. Like something vital was carved out of me with a dull knife.” He balled his fingers into fists, not sure why he shared. “Sometimes I wish I’d been swallowed into oblivion, and other times...” His voice faltered, caught on emotion. “I keep thinking I can go back. Just go back.”

  “But you can’t.” She voiced his unspoken thoughts aloud.

  That surprised him. He recognized something reflected in her gaze. His answer was quiet, laced with the pain of both their wounds. “No. I can’t. I can never go back.” Unnerved, Hugh turned to leave, but one more question forestalled him.

  “How did you die?”

  And the anger came back. Cold and deliberate, he looked at her and replied, “My ship went down. In a storm. One of your storms, I’m told.” A small light of satisfaction lit his heart at her expression of shock. And a touch of regret. He left her without another word.

  Rafe waited at the top of the stairs. “Did it help?”

  “No.” Hugh exhaled. A hollow sound following bitter emotion. “But it needed to be done.” He pushed past the captain without another word.

  STARING OUT AT THE water, listening to the mourning bellow of the sea monsters in the distance, Hugh admitted to himself that he lied to the captain. It had helped, talking to her. In an unexpected way, in a way that disturbed him. He felt sympathy for her. Briefly, fleetingly, but sympathy, nonetheless. For the great, terrible, Goddess of the Moon. For the fearsome deity that terrorized the Outer Islands and ruined his life.

  How can I feel sorry for her? What is wrong with me? I should hate her. Revile her. But she... He let the thought trail off, hesitating for a moment to express it. She’s like me. She’s in pain. I can’t hate that. And I think...I think she still feels.

  “Hugh!” A shout interrupted his musings, and One-Eyed Anders strode up to his side. “There you are, lad. We’re having a bash down below for Mouse, while the captain makes up his bloody mind on what to do with our new guest. Join us, I know our would-be hero would want you there.”

  Hugh smiled. “All right, I’ll come.” He followed Anders below deck grateful for the distraction. As they arrived, it became obvious that the celebration was in full swing. Quantities of beer, ale, and rum were flowing.

  A shout went up at their arrival. “Grab an ale, boys, and celebrate our newest hero! Three cheers for Mouse!”

  Anders grabbed a tankard as the hurrahs hit the air and Mouse blushed, but Hugh lingered near the door watching. He smiled and bantered when spoken to, and even gave Mouse a ruffle of hair and a cheery joke. His thoughts, however, strayed back to a goddess sitting in a darkened cell.

  Hugh stayed half-past the hour and then slipped out from the party without a soul noticing. He made his way to the brig. He breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed down the steps to her prison, still unseen by any of the crew. He stood in the shadows, watching her by the glow of the flicking lantern hung on the wall. She sat in the centre of her cell, drawing invisible circles on the wooden floor.

  “Have you come to gawk? Come to gloat?” She lifted her head and smiled, a strange, strained sneer. Her finger continued to make circles on the floor. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yes. I don’t know why I came.” Hugh stepped into the dim light. “I just knew I had to come. To talk to you again.”

  “Talk to me?” Surprise haunted her voice. Then she scowled. “Oh. To berate, accuse, denounce.” Her finger stopped moving, and her hand closed into a fist.

  “No. Just talk. You are not what I thought you’d be.”

  “Did you expect fangs?” She giggled, an almost childlike sound. “Maybe you thought I’d be eight feet tall?”

  Hugh chuckled, despite everything. “No. Nothing like that.” He took a breath and told her the truth. “I thought I’d hate you. Take one look at you and have a focus for my anger and pain. I never expect to feel sympathy.”

  She snarled. “I don’t want your pity!”

  “Not pity. A—a kinship, I guess. I look at you and I know. At least I think I do. I know the pain you feel. How alone you feel.” Hugh took a step closer, and old feelings, old hurts spilled out, mixing in with his words to her. “I know what alone means. What a dark place it is. I know the look I see in your eyes. And I know you want someone to talk to, someone who will listen. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Why would you do this? Such a thing? For me?”

  “I—I don’t know. Maybe you need it, maybe I’m tired of being angry. Maybe because someone did it for me. Maybe I just want to be kind.”

  “I am not used to kindness.” The words drifted across the air slowly, harshly, in raspy tones.

  The admission struck something in Hugh, a congruent chord. Kindness in abundance had not come his way either. Perhaps they were alike, all alone in the world. Still, she lived, unlike him. She had family, and the
captain seemed to care. Sometimes. When the two of them weren’t fighting. “Wasn’t your brother, Captain Morrow, kind to you?”

  “Captain Morrow, Captain Morrow. The great Captain Morrow.” She rocked back and forth chanting his name. Then she looked up, her eyes wet, silver tears on her cheeks. “Yes, he was kind. Until the day it mattered most. I’ve wanted to hurt him for that. I did. It seemed simple. Just hurt him back.” She stared, far past Hugh, far past the four walls of her cell. “But nothing is simple. Perhaps there was no kindness to be had then. Perhaps he...I am not sure anymore.” She sighed, a faint puff of breath, like the night breeze on a calm sea. “And now, his kindness hurts too much.”

  “That I understand. Gentle words, helpful smiles that don’t help at all. Surrounding you until all you want to do is scream.”

  She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “Is that what I’ve been doing? Screaming? Monsters, monsters everywhere, screaming to the world?”

  “Maybe. Lashing out to make everyone else hurt, too.”

  She leaned forward, scurrying closer to the cell bars. “That sounds like you’ve been having bad thoughts. Wanted to lash out.”

  “I did. I wanted to hurt the captain, the crew, every person that couldn’t see me. You.” Hugh heard her faint gasp of breath, and flashed a wry smile. “Maybe it’s a good thing ghosts can’t do much damage.”

  “Not like gods.” She cast her eyes downward.

  “No, not like gods. But gods can stop destroying, you know. If they want.”

  She lifted her gaze. “Can they? Or is it too late?”

  “You’re looking at a man who died, but is still living, at least on this ship. Is anything too late in a world with such things?”

  “Perhaps in the world of mortals. You are such ephemeral beings, sometimes so hopeful. I had forgotten that. Gods are more...stationary in their beliefs.” She reached out and tapped the bar of her cell. “Like iron, we are. Rigid. Straight and tall, blind to all. Empty heads and empty souls. If we even have souls. Sometimes I wonder.” She flashed Hugh a quizzical look. “Do you think I have a soul?”