Vanguard

by Ann Aguirre

  “What’s wrong?” Tegan asked.

  “I’m not sure, but an orca just buzzed us. Normally it would be deeper this time of year or hunting near the coast. It’s rare for them to surface so close to a ship.”

  Ahead of them a dark shape surfaced, enormous like a swimming skerry, then it dove, revealing a finned tail. This creature could easily break this boat to bits or flip it. Near paralyzed, Szarok watched it, but the sea beast didn’t turn back, only raced onward. Yet something else slammed into the boat; the waves crashed all around and the vessel listed so hard that he fell. On his hands and knees, he scrambled toward Tegan and grabbed onto her. As she clung to the mast, she was smiling.

  “Have you ever seen anything so magnificent?” Her eyes sparkled like the sun on agate.

  Szarok didn’t answer. He waited for orders from Piebald because while he didn’t trust the man, he believed in his instincts for self-preservation. Another boom shook the ship, and this time the captain lost his grip on the wheel. Waves that didn’t seem natural slopped over the sides, and he tried to control his fear.

  “Another orca?” Szarok asked.

  “Something’s got them running scared.”

  As he watched, more of the massive sea beasts sped by, and the small schooner trembled in their wake. It was like cowering in the presence of giants. In his life, he had seen many things that would astonish the rest of the Uroch, but this memory, should he survive to pass it on, would remain a marvel among the People for generations to come.

  “What could frighten anything that big?” Tegan wondered aloud.

  “You best hope we don’t find out.” Piebald’s grim tone penetrated her evident excitement, and she peered into the distance, probably scanning for threats.

  Nothing in this sea-drenched world made sense. The smells and sounds accumulated, but Szarok lacked the context to interpret the information. But he knew one thing for certain—something else was out there. Then a cold chill crawled over him that had nothing to do with the bitter wind … because the boat took another hit. This one, though, this one felt almost … playful. One strike, another, until it almost seemed like tapping.

  “What I wouldn’t give for more speed,” the captain muttered.

  Szarok tightened his hold on Tegan, but even he didn’t know what he planned to do when the dark limbs rose from the water, boneless and horrible, with divots as big as dinner plates. His breath went as the appendages crawled over the side of the boat and wrapped around the second mast. Tegan’s exhilaration evaporated, leaving her still and quiet against him. Whatever creature had ahold of them, it must be immense. The mast popped, the sail drooping in response. It didn’t take much to imagine the boat flipping, going down, down, down.

  He went light-headed at the prospect of dying in the water. Tegan’s hands were so cold; she must be scared, too.

  “What…,” she whispered, but she didn’t finish the question.

  “The Behemoth’s got us,” Piebald said. “Pray to your gods if you have any.”

  Szarok sent up a silent plea to his ancestors. The ship tilted hard, sending Piebald skidding toward the rail. Szarok didn’t think, only reacted. In a reckless motion, he dove and caught the human by a wrist, just before he tumbled over the side.

  As I did.

  They locked eyes, and Szarok saw the man register how easily he could let go. That’s right. Your life is in my hands. For a brief moment he considered letting the deep have Piebald. No. We made a deal. And we need him. So he hauled the human up and rolled him onto the relative safety of the deck. The captain wheezed out something that might have been a word of thanks.

  Just then another orca skimmed by portside, and the creature’s limbs lashed out, snagging its prey with a bizarre hook at the end. The whale let out a terrified sound, so shrill that Szarok doubted that the humans could hear the entirety. Then the attacker pulled its meal beneath the water, and the waves settled into their normal rhythm.

  “It’s gone,” Tegan said.

  The captain slapped a palm against his thigh. “It took the orca and let us be. But nobody will ever believe that we saw the Behemoth and lived to tell of it.”

  “What was that?”

  “Giant of the deep. They’re usually so far beneath the sea that we never even get a glimpse. I’ve seen pictures, heard accounts. But I never thought…” Piebald shook his head.

  “What are the pictures like?” Tegan asked.

  For the first time, the captain didn’t seem like he wanted both their heads on a stick. Apparently he liked imparting information. “The ones I’ve seen are red and white … or deep purple. The beasts have eight arms and two tentacles, a long narrow head and a beak like a bird. Big ones are strong enough to sink a ship. Now and then a fishing vessel brings up a young one in their net. I’ve seen them for sale in the market.”

  “It sure knocked the ship around. I’ll take a look below,” Tegan said.

  That seemed like a good idea. As she went down, Piebald inspected the mast and slammed a fist into his palm. “One good storm and we’re done for. And the damage will slow our progress some, too.”

  “I have more bad news.” Tegan emerged onto the deck, somber-faced.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “We’re taking on water. Seems to be a crack near—”

  “Blast.” The captain swore and ran off to check for himself.

  “How fast is it filling up below?” Szarok asked.

  “Right now just a trickle. But I suspect it will worsen, the longer we’re in the water without the ability to repair it properly.”

  She was right.

  * * *

  Piebald tried, but the patch didn’t hold. By nightfall they had to take shifts running buckets up to the deck to dump the water while the captain struggled with the ship alone. On the second day, the little schooner definitely sat lower in the water, and Szarok ached in ways he hadn’t known he could. The combination of cold and exhaustion dragged on him, and Tegan was staggering. Neither of them had slept in … He couldn’t remember. Even food and water came second to making sure the sea didn’t suck them under. Each thump, each knock, had him searching the water for the whales or the Behemoth.

  “You need to rest,” he said as Tegan stumbled toward him.

  The full bucket slopped water onto the stairs when he caught it. She only shook her head, accepting the empty pail he offered. “There’s no time.”

  He pressed a hunk of salt fish into her hands. “Eat, at least. If you collapse, you’ll leave me alone with Piebald.”

  Szarok growled a soft laugh when she crammed the dried meat into her mouth with a wicked scowl. While she might balk for her own sake, she’d never leave him to suffer. Sudden tightness in his chest stole his breath, and though they didn’t have the time, he pulled her close and rubbed his cheek against hers.

  Tegan let him hold her until the captain shouted from above, “Get moving, unless you want to find out where the Behemoth lives.”

  With a tired snarl, Szarok ran up the steps and to the railing, pouring out the water, and then he returned to trade with Tegan yet again. “How does it look down there?”

  Weariness pinched her features, dark circles beneath her eyes. “Not good. I don’t know if we can keep this up.”

  “We must,” he said.

  She seemed to take comfort in his certainty. Szarok ran until his arms burned and his legs quivered with exhaustion. But after a while, the pain faded into a sweet nothing. Numb, he plodded on as the water rose, and the schooner dipped farther below the water. They were still trudging, still bailing, when a massive crack split the silence. Szarok summoned a burst of reserve energy and sprinted to the deck, bucket in hand.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “We lost the second mast.”

  The captain stood, his shoulders slumped, staring at the pole sliding over the side. Since the human didn’t try to rescue it, Szarok concluded there was no way to repair it. The mainsail remained undamaged, but
the wind whipped over them like a dozen angry ancestral spirits. Between the leak and the loss of power, hope trickled away.

  Perhaps … I won’t see my people again.

  That failure hit him harder than the buffeting gale that smelled of snow and salt. Tegan stumbled up behind him, her pounding heart audible to him beneath the other sounds. She’s terrified. Somehow that realization gave him strength.

  “How far out are we?” he asked.

  Piebald scratched at his beard, such a foul facial feature, as he contemplated. “Thirty hours, at least.”

  “Then let’s fight for every minute. I’ve never surrendered … and I never will. Not even to this deep-water devil.”

  “I can’t do it alone,” the captain warned. “It’ll be tricky to maneuver with one mast.”

  Tegan raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’ll handle the bailing. Somehow.”

  * * *

  After a day and a half of icy hell, Piebald finally called, “Land ho!”

  Szarok rushed to the railing to luxuriate in the craggy coastline, adorned with mossy rocks and trees growing high on the hills above. As the battered boat limped closer, down to a single functioning sail, the town proved unfamiliar. The weathered wood structures seemed older than other settlements, worn by the wind and rain until they all showed gray.

  We’re close enough now. We’ll make it no matter what.

  But this definitely wasn’t Antecost or any mainland village Szarok had seen before. Exactly how far did we come…? Tegan hobbled toward him, her small face chapped red but glowing. He’d rarely seen such pure triumph, and he must admit, their success against the odds made him feel like shouting to the skies.

  “We’re safe,” she whispered.

  Suddenly the captain smelled strange, sharp, a tang of—

  And three things happened at once—Szarok turned, Tegan leapt, and Piebald fired the gun he was holding.

  Killjoy

  After the Catalina finished loading the supplies from Peckinpaugh bound for Baybridge, Captain Advika rushed the crew back on board.

  Morrow wasn’t eager to resume the journey with winter rolling in. But he couldn’t give up hope that they’d find Tegan safe in some other port with an exciting story to tell. That possibility was the only thing that gave him the courage to greet a new day with a smile. If he accepted that she was forever gone, he’d take up drinking as his full-time occupation.

  There were two more stops before Baybridge, and he realized he didn’t entirely understand how Captain Advika benefited from transporting supplies. There must be payment involved, but since the settlements all seemed to use different currency, he couldn’t figure out how she would profit, unless she accepted coin from all the towns and then spent the money in each port, as she needed it.

  “You seem confused,” the captain said.

  As Sung Ji supervised their departure, Advika indulged Morrow’s curiosity.

  “A good question. There’s a merchant house in Peckinpaugh, and they write me a letter of credit, good in the larger ports. The smaller settlements often pay in goods, so I keep a portion of the food or cloth that I transport. It saves me the cost of provisioning the ship, or if I have too much, I sell it for local currency and buy supplies that will be in demand elsewhere.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Morrow said.

  “If I wanted, I have more than enough to build a fine house anywhere and eat well for the rest of my life, but I’d miss the call of the sea.”

  He nodded. “The promise of adventure is persuasive.”

  “That … and Sung Ji would never choose to settle down.” Her dark gaze lingered on the first mate, the first time Morrow had realized they were more than captain and crew.

  “Have you been together long?”

  “Five years,” she said, smiling.

  Catching her eye, the first mate lifted a hand, and they swapped a look that made Morrow glance away. He excused himself to head below, ostensibly to check on Millie, but really more because his heart ached. She was in the infirmary, plucking splinters out of a sailor’s hand. The way the fellow mooned at her, it wouldn’t surprise Morrow if the numbskull had injured himself on purpose.

  He waited outside, cross for reasons he couldn’t name. “You’re keeping busy,” he said when her patient left.

  “I’m glad there’s been nothing serious. I don’t know half of what I need to for this job.”

  “Tegan will be back.”

  Millie offered a measuring look but didn’t dispute his claim. “I hope so. If you’ll excuse me, I need to tidy up.”

  That was obviously a dismissal, and he might’ve protested if he hadn’t spotted the cook pacing outside, cradling his hand. Either a cut or a burn, he guessed. So Morrow headed for the deck to make himself useful. Sung Ji always had plenty of work, even for an unskilled storyteller, tasks that required only the ability to follow instructions. At nightfall he was exhausted, and fell into his hammock with real gratitude.

  * * *

  The next day, around noon, a school of dolphins joined them, frolicking in the surrounding waves. As they leapt, seemingly attracted to the Catalina, Morrow leaned on the rail and bowed his head. I was supposed to show you. Tegan, why aren’t you here to see this? The sheer joy of the aquatic display would have delighted her.

  At some point, Millie joined him to watch the show. Without speaking, she linked her fingers through his, and they watched the twirling and leaping for quite some time. Eventually the dolphins got tired of pacing the ship and veered away. Morrow stared until he couldn’t see a hint of their presence in the water.

  “That was amazing,” she said in a voice washed with wonder.

  “They’re playful creatures. I’m told they’ll frolic right up to a moored boat, even let you swim with them.” For once, he didn’t feel inclined to elaborate or repeat one of the tales he knew, legends of seafolk and the like.

  “I’d be afraid they would drown me.”

  “There are stories like that, too. For every happy ending, there’s a dark one.”

  “You’re a killjoy,” she accused.

  In his current mood, he couldn’t argue. So he strode away and lost himself in work again, until his body hurt too much to think. Two more days passed like that, until the Catalina reached the next stop, Wild Cove. The community was small but spread out, rambling along the rugged coast. There didn’t seem to be a town center, just gray wood houses dotted here and there. Even the dock where the Catalina came to rest had seen better days, and there was a broken pier half submerged in the water. A faded red building added the only surprising spark of color, though the rest of the landscape was breathtaking.

  It was impossible to cling to sorrow in the face of such natural beauty. From the rolling green hills to the dark rock face, Morrow let the sights nourish him. As he disembarked, he admired the gleam of piled stones, water-slick, some striated in all hues of gray, from palest ash to darkest charcoal with whispers of heather and cream. With the winter-cast sky overhead, heavy with clouds, the water gleamed silver in contrast. Too cold for flowers, but a few plants still flourished. In the distance he made out a broken road, long abandoned and gone to ruin, and a white tower. Captain Advika fired off a round, presumably to signal the scattered locals that their supplies had arrived.

  “Don’t just gawp—start unloading,” Sung Ji scolded. “If we’re quick, we’ll make Crow Head before nightfall.”

  “It’s not far?” Morrow asked.

  “Just a skosh north.”

  In terms of actual travel time, that could mean almost anything. Yet Morrow followed orders and set to hauling crates. Millie tried to help, but the sailors she had treated—and possibly ones she hadn’t—kept snatching everything she picked up. That irritated him, but he clenched his jaw and kept at his assigned task until everything sat at the edge of the dock.

  An elderly man with white hair and brown skin thanked the captain with a half bow and a firm handshake. “You made it just in ti
me. I’ll wager you’ve no time for a bite?”

  Advika shook her head. “Two more ports and then we can rest.”

  “Then I won’t keep you.”

  This was the shortest stop they’d made, but even so, with all the unloading, it was near sunset when they sailed. The sky blazed with unearthly hues, and when the stars came out, Morrow swore they were as big as his fist against the cobalt sky. In wonder he gazed up as the brightness intensified. And then he ran. Straight to Millie, and when she argued, he simply threw her over his shoulder. Once they reached the deck, he set her down.

  “Stop complaining,” he ordered. “Now look up.”

  Relief surged through him. She hadn’t missed it—the sky and the stars and the sheer immensity of the beauty. Her voice drifted to silence; he drank her delight down like strong wine, and it left him odd and giddy. Millie let out a dreamy sigh.

  “This is exactly why I wanted to travel. The world, James … The world is so big.”

  Morrow started. He couldn’t recall if she’d ever said his name before, but it added to his quiet pleasure. For a few moments he just stood with the cold wind blowing and the starshine like shimmering ice overhead. Even the moon glowed magical with its faint halo. Silvered light rained down on her upturned face, rendering her so lovely that it left him speechless. Her mouth was full and sweetly curved, even more so when she smiled.

  Like now.

  “My ma says a ring around the moon means bad weather’s on the way.”

  That prosaic observation broke the spell, and he looked away. I’m not so unreliable. I’m not. My heart won’t waver at a pretty face. “Truly?”

  “She says you know when the storm’s coming by how many stars are caught in the circle of light.” Millie raised a finger, counting them, and then her tone dropped, becoming ominous. “Four. In four days, we’ll see if she’s right.”

  Despite himself, he shivered. “You should be the storyteller.”

  “It may be nonsense, but … I hope we’re safe in Baybridge by then.” Her enjoyment undimmed by the prospect of bad fortune, she lingered on deck until she must have been freezing.