by R. T. Kaelin
A handful of ragged, sun-burnt people staggered amid the ruins. They waved their arms frantically and shouted as they spotted the approaching ship.
“Looks like all their boats’ve been swamped,” Kor rumbled.
“I only see a dozen seaworthy vessels left,” Rina noted, shaking her head. “Poor wretches.”
“With their fishing boats gone, these people don’t stand much chance this far from the big islands of the Core,” Lia added.
Ali nodded. “Aye. Not without some help, they don’t.”
The princess quickly mounted the stairs to the bridge. “You’re not thinking of stopping, are you?”
“Of course,” Ali replied. “What would you have us do, sail on by?”
“Yes! I need to get home, I…!”
“How many of these people would you sentence to death so that you might return home a little quicker, Princess?” Ali asked. He gazed sternly at her, then handed the girl his spyglass.
“Take a look,” he said. “Then tell me that we should keep sailing. Our mission to rescue you took less time than we’d expected, so we have more provisions than the return voyage to Sunrii requires—far more, thank Allah. We’ve food and water to spare, plus more than enough nails, rope, fishing line, and other essentials. The least we can do is give some to these unfortunates.”
“As I would hope others would do if the people of Sunrii were in such need, Your Highness,” Sarifa added calmly.
The princess’s hand strayed protectively to the jewelry hanging around her neck. She said nothing and turned away.
“Prepare landing parties,” Ali told Sarifa. “Send enough supplies to help the people sustain themselves and rebuild. Take Doran along as well. We’ll anchor for the rest of today and move on at first light.”
“Aye, Captain,” the siren replied.
They loaded up the two small boats stowed amidships and ferried supplies from the Starcutter to the wreckage-strewn island. For the rest of the day, Ali’s crew helped the handful of survivors clear debris and rebuild the isle’s tiny fishing fleet. The islanders had suffered terribly from the great wave, but thanks to Doran, no more people died during the night. At daybreak, when the Starcutter lifted anchor, neither Ali nor his crew doubted that the survivors could make it on their own—at least until the islanders’ local king sent help.
“Assumin’ their king ain’t dead,” Kor muttered after the Starcutter had sailed out of earshot.
“What a terrible thing to say!” the princess blurted. Despite her initial reluctance to stop, she had actually ventured ashore with Doran and assisted the healer in tending to the island’s wounded.
“It is possible,” Sarifa reminded her, “that much more destruction lies ahead of us. The islands grow larger and more populous as we head deeper into the archipelago. If the wave did not spend its energy before reaching those larger islands, its effects could be far worse than they were here.”
“Let’s hope not,” Lia said. She and her sister were using buckets of salt water to rub the island’s grime from their tanned skin.
“Hope has little to do with it,” Sarifa replied. “We are, all of us, under the wings of fate.”
“Let us hope, then,” Ali said, “that fate smiles upon the merciful.”
* *** *
The next day they sailed within sight of an even larger island. Again, the Starcutter lookouts reported the coastal towns devastated. Because this island was larger and more populous, though, more people had survived the disaster.
“Their plight seems desperate, Captain,” Sarifa reported after a brief scouting flight.
“Sail on, Captain,” Kor urged. His poison-green eyes, tinged slightly darker with concern, scanned the mass of people swarming toward the shore. “Helping a mob this size will strip us of valuable supplies—supplies we need to reach home.”
“Not if we resupply at Sunrii,” Ali said. “And since we’ve rescued their princess, resupplying us is the least Makachiko’s royal parents—and her people—can do.” He looked hopefully at the girl.
“I…I think they would agree to it,” Makachiko said. But, gazing at the wretched throng teeming the shores, she appeared worried.
“Whether Sunrii assists us or not, we’ve still enough extra supplies to help,” Ali added. “Allah would curse us if we were not generous with what we have to spare.”
The crew working the Starcutter’s decks rumbled their agreement, though every man and woman of them looked wary. Kor and Sarifa nodded their assent, too, though the half-ogre did so with little enthusiasm.
The islanders began swimming out toward the skiffs even before the Starcutter’s boats touched shore. The survivors swarmed the crew as the Coralshell sisters and the rest pulled the boats ashore and began unloading the supplies.
“Keep back! Wait your turn!” Rina cried as she and the other sailors unshipped casks of fresh water and sacks of flour. “There’s plenty for all if you don’t fight over it!”
“Who needs healing?” Doran called above the din of the crowd. “I’ve trained at the Il-Siha schools!”
Dozens of bruised and scabrous people surged forward, too many to help all at once. They pawed at the physician, each begging for his attention. “Not all at once!” he cried. “I’m no miracle worker! Form a line! I’ll treat those hurt most badly first.”
“Do as yer told, or I’ll break heads until you shape up!” Kor dar-Bek bellowed. The half-ogre’s watchful glare cowed the mob, and soon Doran and the other relief workers were able to continue their jobs in relatively good order.
A terrible odor arose within the destroyed village as the morning sun burned into afternoon. The stench of decaying bodies, both human and animal, mixed with the sweat of the populace and the filth of their living conditions.
Ali and the ship’s carpenters helped build some primitive shelters and basic sanitary conveniences. They also repaired what fishing boats they could. By nightfall, the entire Starcutter crew felt exhausted, and there seemed little more that they could do.
The island’s people were grateful, though they had nothing with which to replay their saviors.
“Your thanks is enough,” Ali told them. “We must sail on.” Turning to his crew, he said, “Everyone, back to the ship.”
The survivors watched with forlorn eyes as the Starcutter sailed away.
More islands dotted the horizon as indigo night descended over the placid sea. On the distant beaches of the largest isles, wan fires burned and black smoke smudged out the stars.
From the bow of the ship, Ali gazed intently into the darkness ahead.
Rina and Lia appeared at his elbow. The sisters were dirty and tired, but each smiled brightly. The princess came with them, though she did not look nearly so enthusiastic.
“Another nameless island down,” Rina said, “the gods only know how many to go.”
“Yes,” Ali said thoughtfully, “only Allah knows.”
“Will we be stopping at any of those islands, Captain?” Lia asked, pointing to the dots that smoldered like embers in a dying fire.
“Aye,” Ali replied. “If we’re needed.”
“And what of the islands after those, and the ones after the next…?” Makachiko asked. “Will you stop to lend aid to every destroyed isle we encounter along the way to Sunrii?”
“For as long as we are able,” Ali replied. “If Allah is merciful, perhaps the resources we have left will be enough. At the very least, we can save a few more innocent lives.”
“And what of our lives, Captain?” the princess asked. “Are we to spend our days squandering our time and possessions on people we don’t even know?”
“The princess is right, Captain,” Kor grumbled from amidships. “I’m all for saving lives—so long as doing it doesn’t cost us our own.”
“I don’t want any more deaths,” Ali said quietly, “not among my crew, nor among the poor wretches in the path of that God-cursed wave.”
Their previous stops had diminished the Starcu
tter’s supplies by more than half, but they still had enough to finish their journey to Sunrii—plus a bit little extra.
Many of the crew grumbled quietly when Ali sailed toward the ravaged port on the next large island, but—under the captain’s stern gaze—they all soon fell into the routine they’d established.
Ali, Doran, and the boat crew rowed ashore with supplies again. Makachiko went with them to help, despite the captain’s misgivings. Again, refugees swam out to meet the skiffs as the boats neared the battered shore. The Starcutter crew did what they could to unload the extra supplies, but this time the mob of survivors became unruly, and not even the bellowing of Kor dar-Bek could quiet them down. They tore at the princess’ silken garments, and she quickly retreated to the safety of the skiffs.
When it became clear they couldn’t help any further, Ali, Kor, and the Coralshell sisters pushed their way back to the boats as well. The skiff crews quickly joined them and shoved off. Doran, though, remained behind, hemmed in by swarms of ragged survivors.
“Doran,” Ali cried as the skiffs bobbed in the surf, “back to the ship!”
“Just another minute,” the healer called back as Ali’s crew unshipped the boats’ oars. The physician worked frantically on an injured child, bandaging the girl’s head and trying to straighten her twisted limbs. The child coughed, and blood seeped out of the corners of her mouth.
“That Il-Siha devil’s killing her!” someone in the crowd shouted. The mob grew more hostile, but the healer remained intent on his work and didn’t notice.
“Doran!” Ali shouted. The mob surged between the captain and the physician and the skiffs drifted into the bay, toward the Starcutter.
As the healer worked feverishly, a stone struck him on the side of the head.
“Ow!” he yelped. He looked for who had thrown the rock; only angry, worried eyes greeted his gaze.
“Are you people mad?” he asked. “Don’t you want me to save this child’s life?”
The mob surged in closer around him, their feral faces burning with hatred and fear.
Suddenly, strong hands seized Doran and lifted him into the air.
“It’s time to go, healer,” Sarifa said. Her flame-colored wings beat the air furiously as she plucked Doran from the beach.
“No! Wait!” the physician cried, trying to resist. “A moment longer! Just give me a moment longer!”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Sarifa replied. “If we wait any longer, neither one of us will reach the ship.”
Doran watched forlornly as the beach and his young patient receded into the distance. “But I could have saved her!” he protested.
“And who would have saved you?” the siren asked.
The mob onshore surged into the waves, realizing too late that the mariners intended to set sail.
“Come back!” the mob wailed angrily. “Don’t leave us!”
Ali’s jaw clenched tight, and he didn’t look back as his shipmates rowed. The Starcutter crew raised the smaller boats aboard ship, lashed them to the deck, and quickly sailed on. Even as the Starcutter left the harbor, a few ragged survivors swam futilely after them.
“Th-they were like wild animals!” the princess said as the ship left the bay. She rubbed her hands over her arms, as if she might smear the touch of the survivors from her body. “We never should have stopped to help them.”
Ali shook his head. “Not animals,” he told her, “desperate people. And in their situation, who wouldn’t be?” He gazed sternly at the princess and she looked away. Her once-fine garments were soiled and tattered. She looked far less regal than she had, though her carriage remained proud and defiant.
“I’ll be in my cabin, washing up,” she said, and then turned and went to her room beneath the forecastle.
* *** *
For two days after that, they saw only small, uninhabited spits of land. The crew cleaned the ship and themselves, and fished in the Azure Sea. Their spirits rose again, and they began to talk of reaching Sunrii and completing their mission. Then, on the third day, they spotted a smudge of smoke on the horizon.
Ali fixed his dark brown eyes on it.
The crew gathered on the main deck, expectant, worried. Sarifa and Kor stood beside Ali on the bridge.
“Sail on, Captain,” Kor urged.
“This time, the half-ogre is right, Captain,” Sarifa agreed. “Our supplies are very low. There is little we can do, even if the need is very great.”
“Then we’ll do what little we can,” Ali snapped. He spun the wheel and turned the ship toward the new island. “We won’t surrender our humanity—or our compassion—just because circumstances are difficult. All aboard, prepare to lend aid. We’ll assist until our supplies run out or until Allah sends an angel to lift this scourge from the isles.”
“Aye, Captain,” the crew grumbled, and then began their preparations.
“That cursed wave!” Toshi said as she worked. “Is there nowhere that remains untouched?”
“Nowhere in this part of the World Sea it seems,” Lia replied.
“Nowhere without a powerful wizard or a dragon to protect it, at any rate,” Rina added.
The new island’s inhabitants proved just as needy as the previous one’s. The isle was a sharp, volcanic crag, thrusting precipitously out of the clear waters. Its rocky arms formed a narrow strait—barely two ship lengths wide—leading to a sheltered bay. But even the strait and the tall cliffs had failed to stop the onrushing wave’s terrible power.
Once, a proud and prosperous port town had lain on the beach at the base of the mountain. Now only a few snapped beams stabbed out of the sea of wreckage piled against the coast. Bloated corpses bobbed in the placid waters of the wide bay. Amid the ruins on shore, hundreds of squalid people scrambled like scavenger ants.
“Gods help us,” Doran whispered. He rolled up his soiled white sleeves, tied on his white headband, and prepared to go to work.
The Starcutter’s captain shook his head at the healer. “You’re staying aboard this time, physician,” he said.
“But…” Doran began.
“I won’t risk sending you ashore until we know the situation is calm,” Ali said, “not after the last incident.”
Even as he spoke, the isle’s wretched inhabitants splashed into the water, swimming for the Starcutter. Doran frowned but said nothing. The Starcutter’s crew unshipped the two skiffs and filled them with supplies.
“Ready to cast off, Captain,” Kor reported.
“So quickly?” Ali asked, concerned.
“We’ve loaded the boats with all we dare, Captain,” Sarifa told him. “Any more and we risk starving or dying of thirst before we make Sunrii.”
Ali nodded in resignation. “Would to Allah that we could do more,” he said. “Kor, make ready to cast off from the ship. Sarifa, you have command until I return. I’ll signal you if there’s trouble.” He turned and followed Kor over the side and down the ship’s ladder.
As Ali reached the tiny, bobbing boat, someone jumped in after him.
“Princess!” he said, surprised. “Climb back up and stay with Doran.”
“I’m going, Captain,” Makachiko said firmly.
Ali frowned at her. “It would be better if you stayed aboard.”
“You cannot order me,” she replied, her eyes cold and stern. “I am a princess.”
“On my ship, you are under my command,” Ali said. “So, unless you’d care to swim to shore…”
“Captain, I’ve seen too much suffering over the last days,” she said. “I didn’t do much but cower the last time. This time, I want to help. Please.”
“Don’t waste time arguing with her, Captain,” Rina said.
“Aye,” Lia added. “If she wants to risk her pretty neck, that’s her own business.”
“Not if she loses us our reward,” Kor pointed out.
The princess’ dark eyes met the poison-green eyes of the half-ogre. “Very well,” she said. She reached around her neck, removed
the dragon pendant, and handed up it to Doran, standing at the rail. “Keep this,” she told the physician. “Deliver it to my family if I’m killed. Then they will know that you have fulfilled your obligation.”
Slowly, Ali nodded. “Make room,” he told the crew. “If she’s coming with us, she might as well have a place to sit.”
The crew aboard his boat reluctantly shifted to give the girl a seat. She settled in among them, taking only a moment to straighten her stained and tattered clothing.
A ragged throng of survivors met the crew well before they reached shore. The swimming islanders circled the boats like hungry sharks, crying for help and trying to scramble aboard. The skiffs’ crews tried not to hit the swimmers with their oars.
“Get back!” Kor bellowed.
The desperate swimmers ignored him. They crowded in among the oars, grabbing and grasping.
“Please!” Makachiko cried. “Can’t you see we’re trying to help?”
The splashing and scrabbling of the refugees drowned out her words. Dozens of dirty hands seized hold of the skiffs’ sides. The frantic people tipped at the boats, threatening to overturn them. The crew in both skiffs fought to keep their seats.
Above the clamor, Rina called, “Do we fight, Captain?”
“No!” Ali replied. “Hurting these people won’t help anything! Cast the supplies overboard, and then row for the ship!”
“We’re not just leaving them here!” Makachiko protested. “They’ll drown each other.”
“And us, too, if we stay!” Ali replied.
Immediately, the crew heaved the supplies overboard, into the water, amid the squabbling refugees. The desperate people grabbed for the casks and sacks, turning from the boats and fighting with each other.
