The Seven

by Robert J Power

  “What is that cry?”

  “A second fierce terror, little one,” Dirion said warily. He whistled, and a deckhand looked up from his task at one ship sail. “Pull her wide and light her up,” Dirion called, and the deckhand nodded swiftly.

  Silvious watched the young sailor release a heavy rope. The middle sail opened fully and caught in the wind. The speed of the Celeste doubled, and Silvious took hold of the rope tighter.

  He seemed to relax. “Don’t worry, little rodenerack. This is just precautionary. It won’t be as smooth a ride now though.”

  With a flaming torch in hand, the deckhand ran from bow to stern, lighting torches. Within a few moments, the Celeste lit up the night sea.

  “They don’t like flames either.” Another cry from behind made both figures jump. “You were right to pull your feet up out of the spray,” the sea captain joked, but Silvious could see the fear creeping into his wrinkled face. He offered the pipe again, and Dirion snatched it and popped it in his mouth.

  Suddenly, the three eerie voices cried in unison, a cacophony of monstrous beauty and terror. He had known the scream of the cantus was a terrifying thing, but this unnatural wail sent shivers down Silvious’s spine.

  “It’s that dead body.”

  The barge suddenly met a strong wave head-on. Dirion moved with the sudden jolt, and a few silver coins chinked loudly in his pocket. The wave crashed and sprayed harmlessly across the front of the bow.

  “We’ll be fine. It is just the interest of a few sea beasts eager to know what sails atop their realm. As long as the sea don’t tempest, our speed will be enough.” Dirion pulled the wheel fiercely as though attempting to avoid unseen creatures standing in their way.

  Above them, where few men or women ever cared to stare, a few clouds clustered and broke.

  It started to rain.

  12

  Sea Monsters

  “Ignite the catalights!” Dirion cried.

  Thunder erupted far above their heads. With the roar came a heavy downpour, and Dirion cursed as only a salty barge captain could. Primal shrieking filled the air. Silvious gripped the rail as the barge caught a violent gust of wind and swayed against it.

  Below him, Silvious saw his comrades emerge from under the deck, looking confused and dishevelled as sea spray and a torrential downpour roused them to their wits. Perhaps they should have waited until dawn, thought Silvious.

  Deckhands screwed little glass bowls to the end of six metal poles, ten feet long. They filled the glass bowls with a white powder and ignited each. The Celeste became illuminated in a glaring, bright white light, which burned Silvious’s eyes when he looked directly at them. Each deckhand held these catalights out over the edge of the water and secured them tightly, leaving a bright glow on either side of the barge.

  It was only in that moment that Silvious saw the true, terrifying height of the surrounding waves. They towered the height of the barge at their pinnacle, yet somehow, they did not thrash the vessel to a thousand pieces as they struck her hull without respite. Instead, they broke and soaked the top level. Silvious marvelled that they washed away no deckhand along the edge.

  Dirion spun the wheel and turned the Celeste into the largest waves, allowing the pull of the wind to drag them over many of the aggressive swells. He did so with the skill of a man no stranger to a deathly squall. Water gathered and flowed to the under-levels, and deckhands went to task with little more than a bucket to halt their sinking. The world surged wildly, and Silvious held his stomach as the barge rose and fell repetitively, all to the symphony of unknown screaming beasts.

  “It's not the waves which worry me.” Dirion grasped Silvious roughly and dragged him to the wheel. He pointed to the sky. “Climb to the pouch and tell me where they are.”

  Silvious, seeing no other deckhand able to help, obeyed like a good little rodenerack. Though the deck was slippery, he matched the turning of the planks underfoot and reached the thin wooden mast swiftly. He eyed the wooden pouch far above. Strangely enough, he didn’t hesitate and took each metal rung by two. The waves rolled the barge, and the wind caught in his cloak, pulling tightly at his neck, but he kept his footing.

  Below him, he lost the shouts of his comrades in the violent gusts and splattering of rain. Silvious wondered how difficult Dirion might find it swimming with such heavy pockets. He peered out through the storm into the night and saw nothing but terrifying waves on all sides. Then he saw something else. He thought it similar in appearance to the black river eels he and his kin had fished a lifetime ago. Slippery, gelatinous, and delectably bitter, they had been quite the treat. These fearsome creatures were a thousand times bigger though. He shivered as one as long as the barge slithered past.

  “To the right,” he cried, pointing.

  Dirion spun the wheel furiously. The barge left the grand cantus behind, and the creature rose out of the water and screamed in frustration. The piercing cry was deafening without the water to muffle. It moved like an eel within the waves, but above the surface, it behaved more like a snake swaying to a piper’s whistle. It differed from both in that it had a large fin thrice the width of its body running from its head all the way to its tail. It shrieked once more before dropping below the surface and giving chase once more.

  “Another on the other side.”

  A cantus dipped near the Celeste before disappearing under the water. After a moment, it surfaced on the far side and barely missed a collision with its brother. Or sister. Or whatever.

  “Get it right!” roared Dirion as though Silvious should have predicted the movements of the big fishes. Typical humans. He heard the barge captain curse Heygar’s body, but he lost everything else in the wind.

  The beasts swarmed in unison, and the Celeste answered by swaying with the waves and pulling away. The creatures fell a few feet behind and a few more after that. Dirion spun the sea barge across the stormy surface as though he were a god of the open waters.

  Then a large beast twice the length of the barge appeared from the depths below and struck them headfirst. The Celeste rose high into the air before rearing and crashing back into the swell. The sudden jolt knocked Silvious from the pouch. Somehow, he caught the edge with his claw and hung on. The catalights rocked wildly in their places, and the sea glowed and pulsed in reply.

  All three massive monsters met the barge as one terrifying battering ram along its hull. Silvious was whipped back into the sky as the barge almost capsized to the sound of splintering wood and concussive animalistic shrieking. He found himself briefly weightless as the attack tossed his body. For a terrible moment, he saw nothing but water below him, and he plummeted down only to see the returning sway of the barge fill his vision.

  Darkness. Wetness. Screaming. The entire world shaking.

  Silvious opened his eyes as a wave broke over and covered him entirely. How long had he been unconscious? It felt like hours. Days? Moments? He fought the urge to throw up and lost. He spat the bile over the side and used the safety rope to help him to his unsteady, clawed feet. The world spun, but that might have been his mind.

  Somewhere among the clamour of screaming Hounds, wailing beasts and driving storms, he heard Dirion bark out commands.

  “Pull the sails in,” Dirion ordered and left the wheel to spin freely in the wind.

  He pulled a chain, and an anchor fell from above into the water below. Within the counting of three breaths, the Celeste turned about and veered sideways. She came to an unsteady stop, and all on-board shuddered from the force.

  He leaned out along the edge of the vessel. A long iron pole with a serrated end was in his grip. “Anyone that can, grab a whaling pole and stab those thurken curs.”

  Behind him, the deckhands and willing Hounds took hold of their own poles from a long chest and went to war. They stabbed any beast that neared, but the creatures were elusive and dove away from the defenders’ attacks with little more than grazing cuts on thick, leathered skin.

  “We must do thi
s until the demons lose the taste for battle!” Dirion roared. Silvious heard the deception in the old man’s voice. The beasts would not give in. They would not tire. They were a doomed vessel.

  Silvious believed, however. The Celeste carried The Seven, did it not? And when Denan struck success and plunged the pole deep into one of the cantus’s necks as it charged by, it felt as though this would be just another thrilling tale in their legend.

  However, this tale would not be without its tragedy.

  The beast spun, thrashed, and struck itself fiercely against the boat, knocking Denan from his feet. As he fell, he reached for Arielle’s outstretched hand in desperation. She was swift, nimble, courageous, and far lighter than most others were, and he took her overboard with him.

  They plunged into the unforgiving waves. While Denan stayed and matched the current with powerful strokes, Arielle was helpless. Silvious remembered her telling him she could not swim one afternoon, and he had never put a dark thought upon such a fact until this moment.

  The deliriously grateful beasts circled her. Far away, Silvious heard Cherrie scream. To die and get eaten was no fitting end for anyone.

  Silvious snapped the safety rope with a clawed strike, tore it free, and leapt from the edge to the struggling girl below without haste. She would have done the same, he thought as the water rushed up to meet him.

  Suddenly, he was among the storm of waves. He was not alone, however, for Denan reached her first, and she almost took him down as she reached for him with panicked, flailing arms. To compensate, he struck her fiercely in the stomach and pulled her roughly by her long hair. The girl screeched, but as he took hold from behind and held her afloat, her arms relaxed, and she listened to his screaming, calming reassurances. Perhaps he could be a fine, fearless leader after all.

  Silvious, with rope in hand, was two waves from his drowning comrades when a cantus suddenly surfaced between them. It rose out of the water and eyed both floating delicacies as a lord would over a choice of feast. It desired rodenerack this night, spun, and crashed down on Silvious, pushing him far beneath the surface with its snout.

  He screamed his lungs to filling point and still clasped the rope in hand as he tried to kick out from the creature as he plunged deeper, but the beast held him fast.

  Then, without warning, the halting rope still clutched in his claw wrenched him free of the beast. He was left floating alone in darkness as the grand cantus continued its surging charge to the depths below, not yet realising its quarry had escaped.

  Far above, he made out the dim lights of life. He swam upwards swiftly, leaving the life-saving rope to float alongside. He felt the sway of the massive beast as it realised its loss and tore the current apart in search of him. He dared not look below, lest he somehow drew its attention.

  The few moments swimming towards life were the worst he had ever known. Knowing the beast could discover his graceful gliding and pull him back, he wondered if this was the same panic that Heygar had felt.

  He focused on the light growing brighter above him. His lungs ached, and he had never known fear like this, but he never wavered. He kicked fiercely until the rush of water left his ears and he broke the surface of the sea, spitting water from within and tasting wonderful, salty air once more.

  And then the night exploded in fire.

  13

  Human Sacrifice

  The flames thundered down upon them like a terrifying deity bent on vengeance and destruction. Each ball was larger than the last and lit up the night and the sea beneath its gaze. Silvious could only stare in awe while Denan grabbed the swinging rope and wrapped it around all three of them before calling desperately for salvation.

  Around them, the sea was alight with fire, close enough to warm the bones in the freezing water but not enough to burn. That was reserved for the wielder Iaculous, who brought the fight to the beasts singlehandedly. He stood alone at the aft of the barge. His hands were ever-moving spheres of flame, and they waved erratically with every gust of wind and shake of the fist. They burned his clothes and skin, but he offered only a war cry as he burned himself away.

  Once again, Silvious felt something from beyond this world. He imagined a brutal beast clawing at the darkness between god and man, trying to unleash itself on an unprepared world or fleeing a prison of its own. Sometimes his kind could feel things that were not there, and sometimes his people were dreadfully mistaken.

  Repeatedly, like a machine of other worlds, the immolated form of Iaculous fired spheres of flame down into the water. They continued to burn for a few deadly pulses around the trio like an unnatural net holding off inevitable death. They filled the air with the shrill scream of both beast and burning weaver, but Denan’s commanding cry was louder than all others were.

  Suddenly, the rope pulled them from the water. Silvious felt the leathery brush of fin upon his feet as they came aboard, but he also felt the burn of fire as Iaculous made the attacking creature pay. Within a few breaths, he was free of the water and in the grasp of warm hands. They pulled Silvious and his comrades aboard, where the heat was tenfold.

  With the trio on board, the volley came to an abrupt halt, and Iaculous fell back from the edge to the deck. He cried out in agony, and Silvious licked his lips because the delicious smell of charred meat was in the air once more.

  The apprentice crumbled in a heap of ruin and burning embers beneath the mast of the barge. He patted down the small fires along each arm weakly as though it was the hardest task ever attempted. No deckhands dared near him as the blazing heat still emanated from his broken form. It was only Arielle who ran to him, screaming. Her soaking body put out the last of the fires around his body, and she cradled him in her arms.

  In the light of the catalights, Silvious saw the full devastation. It was far worse than at the river. With no healer reviving him as he brought alive the source weaving, Iaculous had burned himself to charcoal. His hair dripped from his head in a caramelised liquid, and his skin peeled away, leaving dreadful blotches of raw muscle and tendon. He tried to speak, but his tongue had burned and charred to a stump. He tried to look into her eyes, but his own were melted away. All he could offer were a few low moans of anguish with the last few breaths from scorched lungs as he faded away.

  “My Iaculous,” Arielle wailed and tears fell among the drips of seawater. She cradled him so that he wouldn’t know he was alone as he died. “I’m with you, my love,” she whispered. He reached up to touch her face and left a smear of gore upon her cheek. She took his ruined hand in hers. “You saved us from the monsters.”

  Behind her, Denan fell to his knees grasping his pouch breathing deeply into the contents within. Another man down, the first on his watch.

  “You saved us all,” Silvious said.

  The barge lurched, heaved, and almost overturned as the sea monsters rallied and attacked once more and struck the side of the barge.

  “Pull the anchor and crank the line,” cried Dirion, grabbing the wheel and spinning the barge towards the call of the wind. Whatever misery was happening among his fares, he was disinterested until the appearance of the old healer and his burden. He appeared to read the old man’s intentions, for he nodded and eyed the sea and said no more.

  “We have to send Heygar over the side,” Eralorien said, dragging the dead body up the steps from the deep below of storage. The exertion was too much for the old man, and halfway up, he stumbled and collapsed.

  “Where were you? Help him,” screamed Arielle, holding her dying burden in her grasp as though love alone could save the boy from a terrible fate.

  “Oh, Iaculous,” he gasped and took his head in his hands as though someone had driven a shard of venomous pain through it. The beasts struck again, and the Celeste shuddered and spun. However, the Hounds noticed none of this, for one of their pack had been stricken, and Eralorien was slow to save him.

  “I could feel the darkness from below.”

  “He still breathes,” Denan hissed.

 
; “I could feel the darkness, and I knew he’d gone too far. I could feel the fire,” Eralorien said and looked upon the ruin of the young man. Silvious saw the sorrow in his face, the regret of a man who knows full well the distance walked was a step too far. They were five now.

  “Why aren’t you healing him?” Cherrie demanded.

  The barge took another strike, and the world faltered, creaked, and splintered in parts.

  “His wounds are from the source’s touch. There is nothing I can do.”

  “Try.”

  “We have problems greater than this,” Eralorien hissed, wiping tears from his eyes. An apprentice was the closest thing the old weaver had to family.

  “Save him, you thurken coward!” screamed Arielle, leaving the still body of Iaculous to its death. She leapt upon the old man, striking him fiercely across the face, chest, anywhere she could.

  “I will not!” he roared and pushed her to the ground. He returned to his burden. “The creatures can smell his body.”

  Silvious shook his head. That didn’t matter. They were his Hounds.

  “It must be done.” Cherrie took her lover’s legs and dragged him across the deck, with Eralorien as her accomplice.

  “We can’t do this to Heygar,” cried Denan, but he did not stop her. Heygar was hers to put to rest.

  “No, no, this is wrong!” screamed Arielle. She drew her sword and leapt between sister, weaver, and ocean edge. A lone fighter heroically defending the condemned. It wasn’t just Heygar she fought for either. They would not stop with one sacrifice. They would feed two Hounds stinking of roasted ambrosia to the beasts this night.

  “You can’t do this,” Silvious said, stepping beside her. His head was spinning as though he had just made a mockery of a barrel of sine, but still, he knew he wasn’t ready to feed his master to a fish. He almost fainted but somehow stayed upright. A great exhaustion came upon him. Behind them, Dirion collapsed heavily against the wheel as though struck by a phantom pugilist, and the Celeste pivoted in the waves.