Souls of the Dark Sea

by A F Stewart

  “Captain Erikson?” Rafe frowned, a bit of revulsion stirring in his blood. “What is she doing with the Oracle?”

  “I do not understand it, but the child has taken pity on her or something. The Oracle says she is important.” Rayla scowled. “I do not like it, but I must accept it.”

  Rafe inhaled then let out the breath slowly. His sister’s face danced against moonlight in his memory.

  “The ghostly girl who killed your favourite.” The whisper slipped into the air and swirled against the tension.

  “What did you say?” Rayla snapped the question and then looked contrite. “My apologies, Exalted One. I did not mean to be so cross.”

  “No need, I understand. I meant no offence. It was just something my sister said. I think the Oracle is right. Like it or not, Erikson may be important.”

  Rayla scowled. “I do not like it, but I will tolerate it. Come with me.” With a sigh, Rayla led the pair in to see the Oracle.

  They heard laughter as they entered, and a smiling fifteen-year-old girl glanced up at them, locks of her red hair falling over her face. Beside her, the ghost of Captain Eva Erikson giggled until she saw Rafe.

  “Why is he here, Jainna?” Erikson tried to cower behind the Oracle’s chair.

  “Not for you, dear.” The girl replied in a soothing tone. “Not directly, at any rate.” She smiled again. “Come and sit, God of Souls, and ask your questions.”

  Rafe crossed the room while Rayla and Blackthorne remained by the door. He sat in a chair nearest the Oracle while Erikson whimpered.

  “Shush, dear. Shush.” The Oracle spoke soothingly, directing her remarks to Erikson. “No one’s going to hurt you.” A snort of derision came from the direction of Rayla, but everyone ignored it. “Speak your questions.” The Oracle repeated her words, turning her attention back to Rafe. “We’ll give you what answers we can.”

  With a touch of disquiet, Rafe asked, “What do you know of a being called Ashetus, of the bow and horn of Ulerne the Hunter, and something called the Path of Sorrows?”

  The young Oracle sat back in her chair, an enigmatic smile lingering on her lips. “Of Ashetus, very little. I’ve heard the name whispered in my dreams these past weeks and have seen his red eyes haunting me in my visions. But that is all.” She placed her hands neatly in her lap, her fingers smoothing the folds of her dress. “Of Ulerne and his weapons, I know of an old tale murmured in my ear as I slept. A tale of how he concealed his weapons, placed them in the care of a trusted few. That is all I can say of Ulerne.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. “But the question of the Path of Sorrows that is easily answered. That is the name of a song.” She giggled. “An odd little thing. My mother used bits and bobs as warnings for her children. ‘Ward against the night,’ she’d say or ‘don’t chase the Path of Sorrows.’ It’s quite a popular ditty on Tenby Key.”

  “Then that’s where I will need to look next, I suppose.”

  “No.” A frightened whisper crept out of Erikson’s mouth. Rafe looked at her quizzically. “If you want the whole song, every bit, see Old Mother Abel on Outcast Key.” Erikson glanced at the Oracle and then at Rafe before continuing. “The strains sung on the islands aren’t what you’re looking for. They’re only watered down, rewritten pieces. But Old Mother Abel, she’ll have the original. Pristine and perfect. She collects things, you see, for certain people. Keeps them tucked away, and I know she has that song written down.” Erikson paused, but finished with, “She told me once, a long while back. Bragged about it. Laughed really.”

  “I see.” Rafe glared. “You did business with Old Mother Abel. Why am I not surprised?”

  Erikson bristled. “Well it’s a good thing I did, now isn’t it? You be needing what she has and all? And that’s not...” Erikson abruptly frowned. “That’s not all. No, I remember now. She said I would relay the message one day for the Shadow Guard. I thought it odd at the time.” She stared at Rafe. “But that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” Rafe sighed, the sound a mixture of confusion and irritation at yet another mention of the strange Society of the Shadow Guard. “And you may not be the only one.” He glanced at young Jainna.

  “You have much work ahead, God of Souls.” The Oracle broke into the space between the pair before Rafe could pursue his errant thoughts. “And we can be of no more help. Whatever rises will not be found by me. You will need others to guide you in this journey. Go where we pointed you and find your way.”

  Rafe nodded, letting his further questions go. “Thank you, Oracle. The aid offered is enough.” He rose and took a step to leave, but then turned back unexpectedly struck by something she said. “One more question. Who whispered to you in your sleep?”

  The girl stared, her dark green eyes reminding him of seaweed in the sunlight.

  “Death whispered to me. Death.”

  Rafe sighed. “Of course she did.” He nodded to the young girl. “Thank you, Oracle. Thank you.”

  Then he and Blackthorne took their leave and returned to the ship.

  Chapter Eight

  Attacks

  “GO SEE OLD MOTHER ABEL? You’re not seriously considering this? Are you mad?” Blackthorne’s shout shook the beams in the captain’s quarters. “Respectfully, sir,” he added on seeing Rafe’s amused look.

  “I know. I have no wish to visit the old crook any more than you, but she is the one who has a copy of this blasted song.”

  “Are we sure of that? We only have the word of Erikson. Can we trust her after what she did? After what you did to her?”

  “If you had asked that yesterday, I would have said we cannot. But you saw her. She volunteered the information. I believe what Erikson said to be true.” Rafe studied a small spot on his desk not looking Blackthorne in the eye. “So does the Moon Goddess.”

  “Now we’re desperate enough to listen to the word of all our old enemies, are we?”

  Rafe looked up, hearing the cross tone in Blackthorne’s voice, and snapped, “I suppose we are.”

  Blackthorne sighed and flopped in a chair, his argument nearly spent. “But Mother Abel? You know that old crone will want something in return for her help. She’s a deceitful old thief and liar, and she can’t be trusted.”

  “I know, but we won’t be arriving at Outcast Key for a few days, I’ve sure we can devise a way to appease the woman by then.” Rafe smiled, trying to put a brighter spin on their problems. “In the meantime let’s enjoy the day on deck. We’re in full sail, with a good wind and a warm sun.” He rose from his chair, coaxing Blackthorne to do the same. They walked up the main deck, the hum of the ship surrounding them.

  “See, a beautiful day.” Rafe clapped Blackthorne on the shoulder. “Let’s go appreciate it on the quarterdeck.”

  Rafe persuaded a still gloomy Blackthorne to the upper deck and they stood at the rail staring at the blue sky and the bouncing waves.

  “Cheer up,” Rafe nudged his first mate. “Look out at the sea. A perfect day for sailing.”

  “It is that. On days like these, it is easy to forget your troubles.” The frown on Blackthorne’s face eased.

  Rafe smiled. “That’s the spirit—”

  “Captain! Something’s in the water! Starboard side!”

  Rafe snatched up a spyglass as Blackthorne’s voice chimed, “You were saying...about it being a perfect day?”

  Rafe ignored the gibe and scanned the water. He spotted the disturbed patch, a place where the sea churned and figures writhed under the surface keeping pace with the ship. Definitely not bones or corpses. No, these were familiar shapes. He reached out with his magic...

  “Hard to port! Hard to port!” The captain shouted the order as the sea to starboard exploded in a spray of water and angry shrieks. Rafe heard the cry of ‘Sea Ghouls!’ from his crew as the ship lurched, executing the hard turn. Three creatures shot into the sky flying over the ship, their screeching voices vibrating the masts. One dove down, shredding
a topsail while the others sliced through some rigging. Sailors scrambled from their perches ducking claws and gnashing teeth as the ghouls wailed their way around the ship. Quiet Peter raced to his post and rang the ship’s bell, loud and long. For a tiny fraction of a moment, the ghouls screamed, backing away before rushing to the attack once more.

  Rafe raced to the starboard rail, his heart pounding, the ineffective peals of the bell ringing in his ears. Something was wrong. He could feel another presence, a force in control of the ghouls, blocking his influence and counteracting his power.

  A force exerting authority over creatures only he should be able to command.

  Anger welled in his mind, a fire burning through his blood. And behind the anger, fear. If something else commanded the ghouls...Rafe shivered. Still, he had to try to turn them back before they tore apart the ship.

  “Stop! How dare you attack me!” His voice boomed outward on a wave of his energy, cracking the air, slamming into the frantic, circling ghouls. The creatures slowed, hesitating, falling silent. Rafe could feel his power pulling at them. “Retreat! Back to the sea!”

  For half a breath Rafe thought he’d won, but something violently pushed back. Dark power ripped through Rafe’s tenuous connection to the ghouls and snapped the slim tether of magic. The creatures screamed in fury and the trio dived at the captain. He watched them lunge and, in a mad impulse, he leapt from the ship to meet them, spinning upward on a burst of blue-tinted magic.

  Rafe crashed into the three ghouls, shattering their descent with a battering ram of his energy and sending them all flying from the ship. They tumbled through the air, and, when he righted himself, Rafe hovered over the sea surrounded by enraged ghouls. He didn’t hesitate, simply summoned his power, and attacked. He showed no mercy.

  A wave of magic blasted into the ghouls and they screamed, Rafe’s power ripping apart their essence as easily as tearing paper. All three shattered in a thousand echoes of pain, their pitiful broken souls obliterated from any remnant existence in the worlds. The horror of their ending splintered through Rafe, through blood and bone, and he bellowed his grim rage, his voice melding with the death cry of the ghouls. The echo of his magic reverberated across the world, and Rafe felt the intruding darkness reel from the backlash. He relished in the satisfaction of hurting it, this interloper. For a moment he hung there, hovering in the sky, breath heaving, fighting the urge to chase the beast that dared usurp his domain. He looked down at his ship and slowly let some of the anger wash away with the sway of the sea.

  Gradually he descended, landing deftly on the quarterdeck beside Blackthorne. “It commanded them.” The terse words came out as a growl, and Blackthorne involuntarily moved back a step. “This Ashetus, this thing, took control of my Ghouls! My souls! Made me destroy them! I will not have it! I will not tolerate this affront!” Blue sparks snapped from Rafe’s fingertips and cobalt fire danced in his eyes. “I will hunt this creature down and end it!”

  “I’m all for that, sir,” Blackthorne softly spoke while taking another step back. “But we have a bit more pressing problem.”

  “What could be more pressing than the end of this threat?” Rafe turned to his first mate, his eyes still flashing blue fire. The captain’s fingers curled into fists, and Blackthorn took one more step backward hitting the edge of the stair rail.

  “The ship, sir. She took damage from the ghouls. They slashed up her sails and rigging. It’s a mess, sir. We can limp along for a while, but we should go into port before Outcast Key.”

  Rafe stood still for several heartbeats, his magic still racing across his skin. He could feel the crew’s tension, see the traces of fear in their eyes. He took a breath, and then another, and let his power fade bit by bit. Only then did he speak.

  “Head north to Tenby Key. We’ll anchor in Riverford and make repairs. Then straight to Outcast Key.” He walked away and began moving down the steps to the main deck, pausing halfway. He turned back to look at Blackthorne. “And don’t worry anymore about Old Mother Abel. After this, she’ll tell us what we want to know or rue the day she was born. I am in no mood for bargaining.” He marched down the steps, across the ship, and disappeared below decks to his quarters.

  RAFE BROODED IN HIS quarters feeling the rock of the docked ship while listening to the shouts and sounds of repair echo from above. Fury still simmered, and it took all his control not to manifest an outward display of his magic. His blood sang with his power, and he could feel the fire in his bones calling for retribution.

  At the knock on his door, he wanted to scream, but snapped, “Come in.”

  Blackthorne walked in the room, keeping his distance, and the door opened. “We may have trouble, sir. Three Navy of the Royal Court ships have sailed into port. They seem to be blockading the harbour entrance.”

  “What?” Rafe jumped to his feet. “Damnation! What are those fools up to, impeding the right of sail?” He snatched up a spyglass, marched around his desk, brushing past Blackthorne. Rafe raced up to the quarterdeck and trained the spyglass on the navy ships.

  “What do they think they’re doing? They’ve sealed off the harbour entrance and are ferrying men in by jolly boat? That makes no sense.” Rafe continued to stare. “Damnation, they’re heading our way!” He lowered the spyglass and spat over the rail. “Pelham’s put them up to something, I know it. Curse that man.”

  Rafe leaned against the rail and watched the small boat move ever closer. Around him, the crew continued to work and affect repairs, unsure of what was unfolding. Rafe tracked the navy sailors as they rowed alongside the Jewel, and tied off next to her berth.

  “Ahoy, the Celestial Jewel and Captain Morrow! Show yourself in the name of the Navy of the Royal Court!”

  With a snarl, Rafe bounded down to the main deck and leaned over the gunwale, shouting down to the six sailors bobbing on the water alongside the Jewel. “By whose authority do you address this ship and block the harbour entrance? You have no jurisdiction over me or mine!”

  “The Navy of the Royal Court has authority to enforce the peace over all the Outer Islands, sir!” The sailor’s shouting voice wavered as he addressed Rafe, but he continued. “What’s more, we act on the mandate of Commander Augustus Quartermain Pelham, commanding officer of the King’s Rock Fort. He has charged that one Captain Rafe Morrow and his crew of the ship known as the Celestial Jewel have wantonly broken the accords and regulations of the sea and circumvented the lawful rights of the Navy of the Royal Court!” The sailor plucked a document from his coat and waved it in the air. “We hold a warrant of arrest for Captain Rafe Morrow and the seizure of the Celestial Jewel by the sanction of said Navy of the Royal Court!”

  “Are you serious?” Rafe yelled his displeasure and disbelief and grabbed the gunwale with both hands. His body sizzled in blue-hued energy and, in one crazed moment, he meant to sink the navy sailors to the bottom of the harbour. Then a voice broke through the madness.

  “Don’t do it, sir. They’re just following orders. Save it for the bastard who deserves it. Pelham.”

  Rafe stared at the sailors now scrambling for the oars in a fearful attempt to escape and suppressed his rage with a force of will. His sparkling display of magic faded, and he shouted to the panicky sailors.

  “Come aboard and serve your warrant. You have safe passage.” He turned away with a grunt, whispering under his breath, “For now.”

  Chapter Nine

  Arrest

  FIVE NAVY OF THE ROYAL Court sailors boarded the Jewel. One remained with their boat. Rafe met them at the top of the gangplank, Blackthorne at his heels. The young men clustered close together, darting worried glances at the scowling crew, their hands fingering the hilts of their swords. Their ranking officer, a dark-haired lieutenant, stepped forward, extending a folded document with a trembling hand.

  “The arrest and seizure warrant, sir. We have orders to escort you and your ship back to Black Shoals to answer for the charges.”

  Rafe took the paper
and unfolded it. He scanned the contents and the usual Navy of the Royal Court jargon, reading aloud the official charges.

  Captain Rafe Morrow, and the crew of the ship Celestial Jewel, are hereby accused of engaging in the unlawful commandeering and interference of Royal Naval duties as laid out by the Seven Kingdoms charter. Furthermore, Captain Morrow is charged with the improper command of an uncatalogued vessel, and the illicit business of transporting unsanctioned cargo.

  He folded the paper and handed it back to the sailor. “So, he’s finally done it. Overstepped his authority.” Rafe smiled and watched the young naval officer shiver. “I’m curious, sailor, what if I refuse to recognize the warrant? How do you plan to enforce it?”

  “Sir. I would very much prefer if you would come peacefully. Let our three navy ships escort yours with no trouble. But the fleet’s been on the lookout for you and every ship has orders to take you in by force, if necessary.”

  “Pelham’s orders, I take it?”

  The officer nodded.

  “He really has gone too far this time. Using naval resources for his own vendetta.” At Rafe’s dark look, the naval officer stepped back, bumping into his fellows.

  “Please don’t make trouble, sir.”

  Rafe relaxed his anger slightly. “I won’t lieutenant, but you’d best pray trouble doesn’t find you anyway, while I’m off dealing with Pelham’s mischief. He’ll pay for this one way or the other.”

  “Is that a threat, sir?”

  “No, sailor. A promise. Your commander is a fool, and now his arrogant power play has put the Outer Islands in greater danger. This delay in our search may very well get people killed.”

  The lieutenant looked pained. “I cannot answer to that. Only my own duty. Will you comply with the warrant?”

  Rafe sighed. “Yes, lieutenant.” As much as he wanted to punch someone, he couldn’t fault the sailor for discharging Pelham’s repugnant orders. “I’ll comply.” His crew’s gasps and growls contrasted the look of relief on the lieutenant’s face. “What’s the next step in my arrest?”