Souls of the Dark Sea

by A F Stewart

  But to Rayla, he said nothing but merely turned the key in the lock, and heard it release with a click.

  Chapter Twenty

  Waves and Shadows

  A WORLD AWAY, LYNNA swam the outer rim of West Shoals Reef, the horn grasped tightly in her hand. A group of skeletons, newly rotting corpses, and bodies of various states of decay in-between milled along the spread of coral and rock, wailing and scraping their bones. She circled around the mass repeatedly, studying every inch of the battleground and the number of her enemy.

  She eventually chose her place and swam to just off-centre of the mid-point of the reef. Yet she lingered there on the edge of the gathered dead, hesitating to use the horn. The truth bubbled up in her thoughts, the truth she didn’t confide in her brother. That under the anger and the outrage she felt fear. Fear of the darkness contaminating her seas, a fright that echoed the dread felt by her creatures. She was scared of those abhorrent things before her and was terrified of their master: the beast, the abomination that plucked the dead from their rest. She shuddered to think such a monster existed, could breathe twisted life into sea-buried bones, and it made her want to flee. But what terrified her most of all lay in her hand.

  The Horn of the Gods.

  The power she sensed, the connection she felt, intoxicated her, nearly overwhelmed her in its fierce beauty and light. It called to her, called to be used, to spread its majesty over the sea and purge the darkness. To purge it everywhere: sea, land, beyond into the realm of the gods. To bend everything to the light, everything to her will. And in the darkest corners of her heart, the thought appealed to her. That’s what frightened her. Her willingness to give in to the Horn and change the world. She hesitated to use that power lest she succumb.

  Yet, what choice do I have?

  She closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the sea surround her, the pressure of the ocean, the taste of it, the echo infused into her magic. She let herself drown in it until they were one. She let her power apex, her mind awash in conflict, but allowed it flow, determined to take up the battle.

  The sea is mine, you remnants, you bits of animated bones. Now I show you why.

  She inhaled, her lungs expanding with air, with sea, with energy. She raised the Horn and felt a tingle along her skin. She sensed the wash of tide and current, the taste of brine, and the scent of a storm on the air. She felt her power, the raw might of the sea, build and swell, and wisps of green flowed along her skin and hair. She placed her lips on the warm mouthpiece of the horn and blew a hurricane of both breath and magic into the Horn of the Gods.

  A crystal clear note of song burst out; a clarity of power singing life, verve, and light into the sea. A wave rumbled forth, a surge of something ancient, something past infinity. A power beyond the small spark of mortality, past even death.

  It moved like a tsunami through the water, like an unstoppable tide rushing towards destruction. Every dead eye and hollowed bone socket turned to face it, screaming an unhallowed wail of wretched misery and salvation. In that moment, Lynna knew the dead welcomed their own annihilation.

  The shockwave from the Horn hit them dead on, crushing bones against the reef in cracks and pops and splinters. Rotting flesh dissolved or sliced away, goo and chum washed away for the fishes. Within minutes, the horde of undead became a pile of bones and decayed flesh.

  And not one corpse moved or twitched or rose again from their final resting place.

  Lynna smiled. She felt a peace. A purpose. Satisfaction and exhilaration coursed through her blood, momentarily erasing her fears. She patted the Horn.

  We have much work to do, you and I.

  AN ECHO OF THE HORN rose to the sky to be met with dark laughter. The Nightmare Crow flew among the clouds, a malicious glee chasing his wings. “See, Ashetus, see! It begins! It begins!” The Crow dove, a spinning black streak descending from the sky to the sea, pulling up before striking to glide over the ocean’s surface. “They are coming for you! Soon you will be mine!”

  He skimmed the tip of a wing on the sea and screeched a cry of triumph and rage, reaching far, far beyond the mortal world to the ears of an ancient being...

  Below the worlds, Ashetus gnashed its teeth, and frenzy fuelled the hot red glow in its eyes. Its tentacles lashed, its body smashed bones, and it dreamed of bloodied feathers and a broken Horn.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Hunter’s Bow

  AS THE LOCK ON THE tunnel entrance clicked, Rafe pushed open the alcove’s stone door revealing a long dark passage. Rayla held up her lantern letting the light illuminate the ancient corridor. It revealed cobwebs, dust, and grimy stone. Stale air wafted out with the faint stench of mould.

  Rayla wrinkled her nose. “No ghosts or monsters, but I could do without the smell.”

  Rafe smiled. “This is nothing. Once, I was locked in a ship’s hold with a barrel of rotting fish and men that hadn’t washed for weeks.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked. “The hazards of life at sea?”

  “Something like that.” He smiled. “But it’s not important. Shall we?” Rafe walked into the passageway, Rayla a step behind him.

  As their feet trod on dirt and natural rock, Rafe ran his fingers over the wall construction. “The tunnel walls are quality masonry. I never noticed before, but I think it’s older than the temple. I’d wager another structure was repaired and integrated into the temple’s foundation. I always thought these passages were created with the temple. I wonder what they were originally?”

  “Amaratha,” Rayla’s voice caught for a moment on the name. “Came down here some years ago before she closed them off and studied their design. She thought they might have been part of a shrine to some older deity. She found odd symbols and markings, but never found a match to them.”

  “A mystery for another day, I hope.” He sighed. “How far to the old Oracle’s Chamber?”

  “Only a few minutes. The passage branches off soon, and we go right. The chamber is just beyond that.”

  They walked the rest of the distance in silence, stirring grime and cool, damp, musty air until they arrived at the underground chamber.

  “Here it is, the Chamber of the Oracle.” Rayla reached out, turned the handle of the mouldering wooden door, and pushed it open. It creaked on worn and rusty hinges. “Not much to look at anymore.”

  The pair stepped past the doorway, and Rafe scanned the room. A cramped square space with only a dusty, half-broken chair within its walls.

  “Sad, seeing it like this.” Rayla murmured, her voice tinged in regret. “Some of the old writings in the library have illustrations of this place. It was beautiful. Painted walls were lit with candles. Now it sits in the dark with the paint worn off from age.” She sighed. “That chair used to be red velvet and gilt with an altar behind it.”

  “An altar?” Rayla nodded at Rafe’s question. “Take the light closer. I want to examine the wall.”

  They stepped across the room and Rafe peered at the wall behind the chair. He noticed rough lines etched into the stone, and ran his fingers over the indentations.

  “I think this is what we’re searching for. That feels like a Sign of the Star to me.”

  “Now what? I see no bow or box or anything to indicate a treasure.”

  “Now we look for a hiding place. Tear this room apart if we have to.” Rafe laid a hand over the symbol etched in the stone and pressed. Nothing budged. “There must be some indication. Perhaps it’s underneath or opposite or—”

  “Above. Stars are above.”

  “What?” Rafe instinctively looked up but saw nothing but a stone ceiling.

  “Not here. In the sky. In the night sky. They are light. Perhaps this one needs light.” She momentarily laid her hand over Rafe’s. “Give it light, Exalted One, and see what happens.”

  Rafe looked at her a moment pondering the quickness of her answer before replying. “It is a thought, that. Wait outside. If something happens it may be safer.”

  She nod
ded, moving away until only a faint glimmer of light shone through the doorway. Rafe stood alone in the dark and took a breath. Then he danced a sliver of his magic through the lines in the stone, breathing radiance into the Sign of the Star. When he took his hand away, the stone still pulsed blue.

  A faint hum began then louder, growing in volume until it filled the room. The light on the wall fluttered a rhythm to match the hum, growing ever brighter with each beat. The ground under his feet rumbled and, suddenly, the light, the star, and the wall burst outward in a spray of pulverized debris and dust. Rafe twisted away from the explosion, shielding his face.

  “Are you all right?” Rayla dashed back into the room, which flooded in the glow of her lantern.

  “I’m fine. Just covered in filth, and—” he stopped speaking, staring at the gaping hole in the wall and the rectangular alcove beyond. There, hanging on a hook, was a bow.

  “Well,” Rayla sniffed. “I thought that would be more difficult. And less volatile.” She crossed the room and shone her lantern next to the hidden recess.

  “Don’t touch it!” Rafe shouted and moved to stop her if she reached inside the niche.

  “Wasn’t planning on it. I’m not stupid.” She glared. “I just want a look at the thing.” She lifted her lantern higher, studying the weapon. “It’s not wood. I’m not certain what material it’s made from. And it appears unblemished. No age, no dust, no wear. If this is as old as you say, that’s amazing.”

  “Not if it was forged by magic. By gods. But you’re right, that’s not wood. It looks like the same material as the Horn. Something beyond our world, I think.”

  “Fascinating, but it’s time to take your prize, I believe.”

  “Yes. I suppose it is. Stand back.” Rayla retreated a few steps and Rafe reached into the nook. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the bow, he felt its power, an energy, unlike anything he had experienced. He knew in that moment that they all stood a chance against Ashetus.

  He plucked the bow off its hook with a held breath and withdrew the weapon. Nothing happened, and he exhaled. “Let’s get out of here, back to the temple.”

  Rayla nodded. They hurried back through the passageways and ascended to the temple proper. Rafe dusted off his coat, shaking the stone debris from his hair, and gave Rayla a nod farewell.

  “I hate to cut my visit short, but I have to—”

  “Not yet.” Rayla snapped the words, surprising Rafe into silence. “You have someone waiting to see you first. She says she has something for you, a gift.”

  Gift. The word caught all of Rafe’s attention as the Grey Sisters’ voices echoed in his head. “Where?”

  “Follow me.”

  Rayla led him through the temple halls and left him standing in front of a closed door. Rafe turned the handle and entered the room. Bevire sat in a chair by a window holding something wrapped in cloth on her lap. Rafe paused mid-stride and stared before slowly walking to her side.

  “Hello, brother.” She didn’t turn her head as she traced patterns on the window glass with her fingers. “It is more beautiful than I expected. This world of yours. All this light and colour. Not as comforting as mine, though. And not as peaceful as the Isle of Shadows. Too many sharp edges and nowhere to hide. Not anymore.” She turned at last to face her brother.

  “Why are you here? Did Father send you?’

  She smiled. “Oh no. What he knows of me these days is a mystery. I pray he knows nothing, but I suspect he may know everything. More than we two, even. Father keeps his secrets when it pleases him and shares them when it’s useful.”

  “Why are you here?’ Rafe repeated the question, fearing the answer.

  “To confess. To make amends. To beg forgiveness.” She sighed. “I listened to dark words and let fear direct my actions. I should have ignored the Crow, ignored the world perhaps, and let you be.” She let out a breath and stroked the edge of the cloth in her lap. “You have always frightened me, brother, and I let that fear rule me. I told myself you were dangerous, that it was what needed to be done. I let the Crow’s lies, his deceit, convince me though I knew I shouldn’t.”

  Foreboding skipped along Rafe’s skin, dancing with shivers. “What did you do, sister?”

  She stared, a film of tears welling in her eyes. “I am the one that broke the seal. I let Ashetus out of his prison. To try and use him against you.”

  A feeling of betrayal broke across Rafe’s thoughts, surprising him. There was never a closeness between them, but his heart still broke that she would do this, move against him in this manner. She never spoke the words, but he knew she meant his destruction as a result of her actions.

  When he felt able to control his words, he spoke. “I did not know you hated me that much. That you would risk the worlds to see me...gone.” He could not say it aloud. Dead. She wanted him dead.

  “No.” She looked at him, her eyes full of tears and sorrow. “I did not risk that. I did not know what I raised.” She lowered her gaze. “But that is no excuse for I did not ask either. I chose to ignore my good sense. To ignore the misgivings I felt.” She sighed. “But know this. I do not, I never will, hate you. I—I am afraid of you. In some ways you...you favour Mother too much.” She sighed. “And I walk in the dark. I know what lives there. What you can control if you wanted. That possibility terrifies me.”

  A small inkling of understanding crept into his thoughts with a pang of sympathy. “I am not her, Bevire. I will never be her. And what I am is not my doing. Despite all of your opinions. Why do you think I accepted exile so long ago? I know how my family feels. I’ve always known. I never held it against you even if I wished it different.”

  His sister glanced up again, surprise mingling with her tears. She replied, disbelief in her tone. “But you and Father, always so angry. So bitter. I thought you hated us all. Resented us.”

  “No. Like you, I don’t hate my family. But some of Father’s actions...you of all of us know how he is, his secrets, his lies. That is what comes between us...causes the quarrels.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered. I shouldn’t have worked the Crow’s spell.”

  “You aren’t the first to fall for his tricks.” Rafe let a sigh escape his lips, and then a half-smile. “Help me now to right your mistake.”

  She matched his smile. “That I have already done. The other reason I came. To make amends.” She unfolded the cloth and held up the arrow. “For your new bow.” She nodded at the weapon he still held. “I plucked a feather from that wretched crow and fashioned this arrow from it. From that and darkness itself, binding it in name magic. This will kill Ashetus if your aim is true with that weapon.”

  Rafe held out his hand. Bevire placed the arrow in his hand and sighed a soft sound of relief. He curled his fingers around the projectile: the arrow in one hand, the bow in the other.

  “Thank you, sister.”

  She sighed again, but with a smile on her face.

  Rafe turned to go. He walked a few steps and stopped, twisted around to look at his sister. “Come with me. Sail with me to fight Ashetus.”

  “What?” A mix of disbelief and fear shadowed her face. “Why would you want me?”

  Rafe hesitated, unsure how to put what he was feeling into words. Finally, he said, “The Grey Sisters told me I needed to bring an army. I prefer family.” He gathered the arrow and the bow in one hand and held the other out to Bevire. “Come with me.”

  She slowly rose, walking towards Rafe. She tentatively reached out her hand until she, at last, grasped her brother’s. They smiled at each other and left the temple together.

  “THIS IS MARVELLOUS!” Bevire stood at the rail of his ship, laughing, the wind blowing her dark hair. “I can taste salt in the air!” She licked her lips with another laugh. “Your mortal world is most strange. Small things scattered together, weaving patterns and the breath of wonder into substance. Most strange, but marvellous.”

  Rafe looked on in amusement, remarking, “I’m glad
you’re enjoying the voyage.”

  “I am. This vessel is delightful.” Then her face clouded for a moment. “I just wish the reasons that brought me here were as pleasant.”

  Rafe moved to her side. “Time enough for worry later. Sometimes you simply have to enjoy the day.”

  She smiled at him, and they both stared out at the passing sea and the sky as the Celestial Jewel raced its way to Shadow Cay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A Victory

  THE Celestial Jewel sailed towards the Bay of the Moon off the Shadow Cay coast in sight of Lynna’s temple shrine. Rafe and Bevire stood on deck when a shout rang across the ship.

  “Waterspout! Off the starboard side!”

  A great fountain of seawater erupted from the depths, Lynna riding the spray towards the ship. Her voice rang out, “They’re mobilizing! The remainder of the army of the dead are gathering together for an invasion!” The waterspout dissolved, and Lynna dropped gracefully onto the deck. The Horn of the Gods hung from her shoulder, suspended on a cord fashioned of seaweed. “They’re headed towards Crickwell Island!”

  Rafe raced over to her. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t quick enough to get them all in time.” A look of anger and disgust crossed her face. “The Horn worked as we hoped, and I swept through Tenby Key, Red Reef, Deep Sea Key, the Stone Fire Islands, and Shadow Cay. The forces there were decimated, but my sea creatures sent me word. The bone legions around Storm Point, Abersythe, Llansfoot, and the Black Shoals area are on the move. I think the Horn stirred them up. I was on my way to intercept when I saw your ship.” She curled her right hand into a fist. “We caught someone’s attention, brother.”

  “Ashetus.” Bevire’s soft whisper drifted into the conversation.