The Huntress: Storm

by Sarah Driver

  ‘Wren did express similar concerns,’ explains Leo, gifting Da a sympathetic look. ‘Nonetheless, she saw what she saw.’

  Sparrow taps into the room using his stick, a moonsprite buzzing round his head.

  They tell him the fate Grandma glimpsed, and that kingship would involve learning at Nightfall, and his face lights up.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a wise step, though,’ starts Da. But Sparrow’s got other ideas.

  ‘Da,’ he whines, in his get-what-he-wants voice. ‘I want to be a skoller at Nightfall.’

  ‘Why you wanna do that?’ I say, wrinkling my nose.

  ‘That’s where they’ve got the best healings in Trynka, stupid.’ He pushes his loose tooth. ‘I’ll get more better there.’

  ‘He’s right,’ I say in surprise.

  ‘Button up, you,’ Da orders, colour flaring in his cheeks

  Sparrow smirks.

  Huh. Whenever there’s kin-trouble I’m always the one to suffer, whether or not I’ve caused it.

  ‘You’ll have to give me time to mull all this over, and talk in private with my child,’ says Da.

  ‘But,’ pipes Sparrow. ‘But it’s my li—’

  ‘If I hear that again from either one of you today, it’ll be bed with no suppings,’ Da declares. He looks tired and old. This must all have taken such a bite out of him.

  By sunset, Sparrow’s worn Da down. ‘I’m the King,’ he hisses close by my ear. ‘You’d better bow!’

  I hit out at him but he dodges. ‘Bow, my backside!’

  When Leo returns, Da signs a golden parchment with a quill, proclaiming Sparrow the first King of the Sea for hundreds of years.  Hah. What a lark.

  We send letters for the other two the fire spirits chose to crown. Then we wait. The scroll Da signs splutters out clouds of impatient dust.

  Crow’s taken to watching me from the edges of rooms, and scuffing away when I approach him. I find him sitting on the dockside, swinging his legs over the side.

  ‘S’pose this is it, then,’ he mutters when I sit down.

  ‘What you on about?’

  ‘All this Sea, Sky and Land,’ he says, looking at me sidelong. ‘I’m from the land, ain’t I. S’pose I’ll see you at the next Tribe-Meet.’

  I grab his hand. ‘Would you stop spouting stupids? There’s no crew without you.’

  He gifts me a weak grin. ‘You do know I’m gonna spew all over your shiny new timbers?’

  ‘Wouldn’t expect anything less of a stinking land-lurker.’

  He punches me on the arm and I kick out at his shin and then we’re hugging and laughing and chattering ten to the dozen about everything that’s happened and everything we’re gonna do on our first voyage. ‘Most of all, I’m gonna crush anyone I find trading slaves,’ I vow.

  He nods. ‘Sounds like a ruddy plan.’

  Kestrel arrives at Haggle’s Town early the next morning, and quick as you like she gets to stealing everyone’s breath with her jaw-drop beauty. It’s stark-glaring-obvious how tall and rare she is, in this stooped little fishing town.

  Kes finds me in my chamber and we hug rib-crack tight. ‘Have you heard?’ she asks, voice quaking with nerves.

  ‘Course,’ I tell her. ‘I helped read the spirits.’

  Her freckles glow. ‘I hardly know what to think!’

  I grin. ‘You’ll have to meet with the Sea-King – that’s Sparrow, would you believe – at Nightfall. You could do some library learning while you’re there.’ I watch her face. ‘You do want to be Sky-Queen, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, well – yes, desperately,’ she confesses, making me laugh. ‘Is that terrible?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘It’s just – such a huge thing. I don’t know if I’ll do it right.’

  ‘I know that feeling,’ I tell her, thinking of my own fate. ‘You’ll be flaming thunderous, though.’

  We spend time talking about Egret, and the strength of the love she had for Kes – the love that saved Kes’s life and healed her soul.

  At sundown, Axe-Thrower steps out of a Moonlands long-boat, onto the harbour. Me and Grandma saw the proud, fierce, loyal fighter in the fire spirits, and we saw how right it was that the power should go to a woman that’s known the horror of slavery for herself.

  Axe finds me and sweeps me into a fierce, one-armed embrace. She licks her fangs. ‘Girl,’ she says, eyes sweeping the docks. ‘In my life, I never felt worth anything. You have shown me my worth, and helped me see that others find me of value – and not to trade, as my warring father did. I will always fight by your side.’

  We leave for Whale-Jaw Rock and the next day, as the sun touches the sea, Sparrow, Kestrel and Axe-Thrower are crowned the new Queens and King of Trianukka, in front of hundreds of cheering folk. Some of them are proper important – lords, ladies, chieftains, true mystiks. Toadflax, Hoshi, Bluebottle and the Spidermaster are there, too, along with an overwrought Old One who keeps fussing over Sparrow. The Skybrarian is there – though Yapok chose to stay with his books – and the new Wilderwitch leader accompanied the old man.

  Torches are set in crevices in the rock. Moonsprites swarm around our heads. One tickles my ear as it brushes past. I walk over hard lumps in the ground with puffs of steam rising from them. ‘Mind the eggs, mind the eggs!’ warns a woman. ‘We’ll be celebrating with these afterwards!’ I stop moving and glance down at my boots. I’m standing on a dip in the ground where a pool of water bubbles – a miniature geyser. Inside the pool, an egg is poaching.

  ‘One each of Sea, Sky and Land!’ calls Leopard. She beckons each one forwards.

  ‘Sparrow Sea-King!’

  He stumbles forwards, almost tripping on the edge of his fancy-breeches cloak. He bows and she places a crown on his head, set with tiny bright green emeralds.

  Da squeezes my shoulder and whoops loudly.

  ‘Kestrel Sky-Queen!’

  Kes walks forwards, elegant as anything, and to my shock Lunda lets the tears drip freely down her chin and claps the loudest of anyone. Kes’s crown is set with blue sapphires.

  ‘Axe-Thrower Land-Queen!’

  Axe stalks forwards, chin lifted high. She accepts her amber-studded crown and then her eyes seek me out. We nod to each other.

  After the ceremony, we eat the geyser-poached eggs nestled inside lumps of bread that’s threaded with baked seaweed.

  It hurts that I so badly wanted Kes for crew, and now she never will be. But she’s found something she needs to do, and folk want her to do, so I push away my disappointment. Crow catches my eye and grins. I can read him like runes on parchment, along with all his hidden meanings. He’s itching to rove as much as I am. Excitement pops in my belly.

  I stand at the base of the plank and stare up at the towering flank of the Huntress. My fledgling sits on my hand, peering at me.  Nest-homenest-homenest-home!

  Aye, you’re right, it’s your new nest-home! Soon I’ll have to get telling you some hero-tales of a hawk who once lived here, too. She was called Thaw-Wielder.

  Bone-Breaker and the rest of her nestlings are already in the Hoodwink.

  ‘Is there any of our blood left in The Huntress ’s veins?’ I ask the carpenters.

  ‘Aye,’ says one. ‘The boards from the cabin where you were born have been sanded down and made into the new Hoodwink, so your blood and your ma’s protects the hawks. But, other than that, much of her is new timber, Captain. I’m sorry.’

  I think of what Crow said. Our home is together.  A cabin’s wooden walls, is all. ‘You’ve got naught to be sorry for! It’s time to let the past set sail.’ Then I realise what she said and flush furiously.  Captain ? Not yet!

  Cheered by my crew, I walk up the plank onto the storm-deck. ‘Crow?’ I call behind me.

  ‘Here!’ He bounds onto the deck and stands there with his hands on his hips, surveying the ship like he’s sailed a hundred times before.

  ‘Keep your mitts off the raw eels – they’re for bait, remember? – and you
’ll be fine.’

  He guffaws, pinching me under the ribs. ‘Yeah, yeah, Miss Big-for-boots. Don’t forget us little folks when yer captain, eh?’

  When everyone’s aboard, we load an oaken casket onto the deck. Grandma. Raising anchor with us one last time.  And after that I’ll be raising hell on her behalf.

  Then I stare down the plank. Sparrow stands there, wearing his kingly cloak spun from golden sea-silk and looking krill-small. His pearly eyes gleam with mischief, and his fingertips glow. ‘Go on then, if you’re going!’ he yells rudely.

  ‘Sparrow,’ chides Da. I watch as he bites back tears. ‘You’re heart-certain you’re going through with this?’

  ‘Course,’ calls Sparrow. ‘You’re the ones that ent brave about it, not me. Kes is waiting for me back at the inn. She said she couldn’t do goodbyes and she’ll see you at the Tribe-Meet for Dread’s Eve, Mouse.’

  I nod, trying to smile.

  ‘Anyway,’ says Sparrow. ‘I’m the King, and kings can’t stand around all day chattering to you lot!’

  Da laughs, and his laugh splutters into a cry. Which makes me think it might be a good idea to get on with it before he can change his mind and grab Sparrow.

  Plenty of the oarsmen and women were slaves, once, homeless stragglers looking for work that I wanted to gift a chance to. Some were living inside the wrecked hulls at the breaking yards and I hadn’t got the heart to chuck them out. All of them assemble on deck with the crew I’ve known all my life, my Tribe, and I get them to gather round.

  ‘Navigator,’ I call.

  ‘Present,’ says Da, smiling.

  ‘Chief oarsman!’

  Bear steps forwards, thumping his fist to his broad chest, gifting me a broad grin to match.

  I list the rest. ‘Helmswoman, prentices, Whale-Singer—’ I falter.

  Vole steps forwards. ‘I have song-spells and your brother’s voice in staff-crystals, enough to guide us until we meet him next.’

  I swallow, nod. Then I fill my pipes, ready to roar. ‘We rove! ’

  The whole crew boom the old Tribe-words back to me.

  ‘We rove to trade, to meet, for the restlessness in our bones, we rove at one with the sea! ’

  Sparrow yells along with the crew. I watch their faces, proper awestruck.

  There’s a cranking sound as the anchor lifts from the seabed. Sparrow takes a step back from the ship, sudden uncertainty scrawled over his face.

  I run to the rail and stare down at him. ‘Sparrow! You’re gonna be the best king ever!’ We pull away from him. My belly drops. I can’t leave him. What was I thinking?

  ‘Sparrow!’ I scream.

  ‘Mouse!’ he calls, but he’s grinning. He flaps his hands. ‘You’ll do alright!’ he yells, cupping his hands round his mouth. And I realise it’s me who’s doubting, not him.

  ‘I’ll miss you!’ I shout. ‘And I love you!’

  ‘Love you too, stinker!’ There’s no trace of scorn in his voice. His face is open and keen. I clutch the rail, throat aching. I want to fix this picture of him in my mind, press a forever-memory there. Cos who knows how much he’ll have changed, next time I see him?

  The crew surround me, grinning and hooting and howling. Sparrow waves to them as the ship moves away.  Don’t you dare weep, I tell myself.  Don’t be such a stupid bab.  Shed your tears in private, like a real captain. I catch my sea-hawk’s eye as the sunlight plays in her feathers and on the waves. She lends me heart-strength.

  The oarsman’s drum, Huntress ’s life-pulse, begins to beat.

  The world boils down to the sickening lurch in my stomach as I watch Sparrow grow smaller and smaller on the dock. And oh, the song-notes. The notes are everything. Scores of blue jewels pouring from his lips, sending us on our way. He’s singing at the top of his lungs. Da waves frantically to him, and I know he’s fighting to look brave. Then Sparrow turns back towards the Star Inn.

  Soon my world is as it should be – salty, damp, sweaty, rocking, stinking tallow-rich and gusting with birch smoke. I help with tarring the ropes so I can smell it again, and to take my mind off Sparrow.

  When the stars spark in the sky, we finally gift Grandma her rightful sea-burial. Tears flood my face as crew shoot fire-arrows into the night, after the hunting boat cradling her casket has been pushed out to sea. Her gnarled fingers grasp her longbow. I smeared her cheeks in hawk droppings and made her a crown of feathers. Nestled close to her side is my heart-bright hawk, Thaw-Wielder. Pots of medsin made by Vole nestle in the casket, together with a map for navigating the death-sea. At the last beat I remembered Sparrow’s asking and put the box that held Thunderbolt’s moon-dust in the casket, too.

  I don’t know if Grandma will ever be a wraith again. But I know she’ll always be the captain of my heart, guiding me.

  I’m in the captain’s cabin, changing for bed – but leaving my boots on, in case I’m needed on deck – when light flickers in the corner of my eye. I jump onto my bunk and fling open the porthole.

  In the sky, the fire-spirits dance and ripple. Grandma used to say they told her I’d be a captain, before I was even born.

  I used to think being a captain was about giving orders. It’s only now I’ve roved with my crew, for the sake of saving what matters, that I know it’s so much more, and that there’s still so much I ent yet earned the right to claim. The bones-deep heart-truth of the teachings Wren gifted me ring through my marrow.

  A skilful captain learns to weather stormy seas, but only once she’s learned to weather her crew.

  I turn as heavy footsteps thud into my cabin. Da and Bear duck into the room, grinning. I bite my lip, eyes filling.

  ‘We just wanted to let you know, we’ll be by your side every last beat,’ says Bear, tapping his fingers on the drum slung over his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to captain this fine she-beast alone – though we know you could, girl.’

  Da winks. ‘You’ve got the belly for the work.’

  The morning of my fourteenth Hunter’s Moon, I jolt awake, in a cabin again for the first time in so long. The lantern by my bed squeals on its hook as the ship rolls. I bury my face in my pillow, smiling at memories of when Vole showed me how to gather moonlight to make fresh moonlamps now that the moon’s returned. But I was so clumsy I dripped enough scraps of moonlight to make a moonsprite army. I’ll have to send a few to Sparrow at Nightfall, not that we could ever replace Thunderbolt. Tonight, I will have swelled with the extra moon I’ve gathered. I hold up my arms, looking at all the goose pimples and fine hairs, and the muscles I’m so heart-proud of. Am I different, somehow?

  There’s a knock at my door. ‘Captain?’ calls Crow.

  ‘Would you stop calling me that?’ I bellow. ‘I ent captain yet!’

  He barges into the cabin, carrying a platter of moon-day cinnamon buns.

  ‘Thank the gods.’ I prop myself onto an elbow. ‘It were getting lonely in here!’

  He grins weakly. His face is green. ‘Don’t throw up in here,’ I tell him. Then I remember I’ve still got some of Kes’s sky-sickness petals in my pockets and rummage to get them. I roll out of bed in my smallclothes and Crow shields his eyes.

  I laugh at him. ‘What’s your gripe? You seen me bone-naked, when I almost froze down that wraith-hole.’

  ‘He what ?’ demands Bear, clomping down the stairs into the cabin.

  ‘Er, nothing,’ says Crow quickly, cheeks stained red.

  ‘Better be nothing, boy,’ grunts Bear

  Even though it’s my moon-day and Bear reckons I can take time off, I don’t. I’ve found that I love the work of a captain, that I hardly find it work, though it’s hard. I make my rounds, talking to the carpenters, checking on the oarsfolk, chattering to the sea-hawks and bringing broth to the helmswoman. I check folk for injuries and visit the medsin lab, where Vole and her little bab, who the fire spirits named Hedgehog, are busy working. Hog mostly gurgles and plays with roots and petals, but we forgive her for that, cos she’s proper bo
nny. Bear’s always fussing over her.

  We dock to greet the Moonlanders and trade amber and jet for walrus hides. Then we grill herring and while the Tribes feast, I skim stones with Da. Each stone is a piece of land, passing through the sky before falling into the sea. We speak of one day sailing beyond Trianukka, and I can hardly imagine it – but my blood thirsts for the adventure.

  When we sail again, I scan the skies and the waves and try to stay aware of the workings of my ship. And then the sun sinks, and my moon rises, and it’s time to swear my oath.

  ‘Please be with me this night, Grandma.’ I need your guidance. We will rove, and we will trade. But we will guard folks’ freedoms fiercely, and we will rescue, too.

  Vole comes to my cabin and brushes my tangles – the only bits of blue left at the very tips. She threads moonstones into my hair and drapes a gleaming white fur around my shoulders. I practise my vows under my breath until she slips cool fingers beneath my chin, making me look at her.

  ‘Mouse. You will be fine. You are your grandmother’s granddaughter. And – how wondrous – you will be a captain with the beast-chatter! A true captain,’ she adds, when she sees my look. For a beat, I remembered Stag.

  I haul my longbow over my shoulder, and breathe. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘We all know it,’ says Vole. Hedgehog gurgles at me from her sling on Vole’s chest, and I kiss her head.

  Above decks, I take the wrapped scroll from Bear. It’s a map. The first map of my own. I face my crew. Crow’s eyes shine bright in the darkness. The wind grabs fistfuls of my hair. ‘Across the seas, by oar, by sail, no wind nor storm will see me fail!’ I shout.

  ‘The drum will beat, let no blood seep, down into the water!’ they answer.

  ‘My heart, my life, my strength won’t rest, until I’ve passed my True-Tribe’s test!’

  ‘Aye!’ they boom, as one. ‘Stand arrow-straight, stay heart-strong!

  ‘I swear you’ll find no truer form, to guide you through from dusk ’til dawn. Your captain fierce and swift and fair, who stands for all you do not dare.’

  ‘Not us! ’Tis a captain’s place!’