Scimitar Sun

by Chris A. Jackson

  Cynthia smiled with sudden realization; this sounded more like mer logic, mer reasoning. *So you told me it was not your fault to save your lives. Is that right?*

  *Yes, that is right, Seamage Flaxal. We submit to you. We do not want you to hate us.*

  *And what of your attack on the landwalker ships, Chaser. Should I not blame you for that as well?*

  *That was the will of The Voice, Seamage Flaxal; we could not disobey it!* He swished his tail in discomfort, and signed, *Though it seems now that Eelback’s persuasion of the mer was to manipulate the decision of The Voice for his own ends. He wanted the attack to happen as you returned from the burning island, to lure you into acting against us, against The Voice. In his mind, this justified his attack on you, though not the taking of your heir.*

  Cynthia staggered a step back, glaring at Chaser in shock. “They manipulated me,” she said, turning to Feldrin. “One of the mer manipulated all the others into deciding to attack the warships, to provoke me. It was all just a ploy! All he wanted was our son, Feldrin!”

  “But why?” the Morrgrey asked, still glaring at the mer. “Why take our son?”

  “They, not all of them, but some of them, want to use our son to bring some kind of a dead city back to life. I’m not sure what he’s talking about, something built by the mer and land — er, I mean humans, a long time ago.”

  “Bring a city back to life? What the bloody…”

  “Not humans,” another voice interrupted. Both of them turned, and Cynthia was astonished to see Ghelfan step from the crowd and nod. “Elves built the city with the mer, Cynthia. The legend of Akrotia is rarely spoken of by my elvish ancestors. It happened eons ago, before humans even came to this land. The city was built by magic, enchanted to become a living thing, at the cost of a life. At the cost of the life of a seamage.”

  “And now this mer intends to use our son to bring the thing back to life?” Feldrin glared, his features darkening with his anger. “I don’t believe it! Why him? Why us?”

  “Odea’s gifts are not bestowed upon the mer,” Ghelfan explained. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “The agreements between the mer and the elves became strained as the population of Akrotia grew. The mer insisted that the city be expanded to accommodate even more of them, and the elves refused. The city became overcrowded with mer and they became unreasonable, aggressive, violent. Disease burned through their population, killing thousands, and the seamage who was bound to Akrotia became ill. When he died, Akrotia died. The elves would not sacrifice another to prolong agreements that they deemed unwise to begin with, and abandoned Akrotia. The mer have never forgiven us for this.”

  “But it hasn’t happened yet,” Feldrin said, his hand flexing on the hilt of his sword. “They haven’t done this…thing yet.”

  “I don’t know, Feldrin.” She turned to Chaser. *When will Eelback sacrifice my son to make this happen, Chaser?*

  *I do not know when, Seamage Flaxal. The scrolls speak of proper conditions for this to happen, but since none has ever considered the possibility of it, the scrolls with the knowledge have gone unread for a long time.*

  *Bring the scrolls to me! At once!* she ordered, a flicker of hope kindling in her soul.

  *I cannot, Seamage Flaxal. Eelback has the scrolls.*

  “Bloody mer logic!” Cynthia swore, then turned to Feldrin. “They don’t know when it will happen, and the scrolls with the information are with the ones who stole our son.”

  “I could ask the elves,” Ghelfan suggested, “but that would take time. They will not volunteer the information readily.”

  “We can’t wait,” Cynthia said. “We have to try to get him back, Feldrin. We have to go as soon as we can!”

  “Bloody right, we do!” He turned to Horace. “I want the Pride ready to sail in twenty-four hours! Load her with as many provisions as she’ll carry! Rig for action, and take any volunteers who’ll go.”

  Cynthia turned to Chula. “Ready Peggy’s Dream as well.” At his salute she turned to Camilla and Count Norris. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay here until we return. My son…”

  “We will remain here, of course,” the count said, his eyes flicking to Camilla, then to Tim. “If the emperor sends another ship, we will treat with them.”

  “Do what you have to do, Cynthia,” Camilla said, taking her hands and squeezing them. “We’ll be fine. Go.”

  “Thank you, Cammy.” She embraced her friend, then turned to Ghelfan. “I can’t compel you to help me in this, my friend, but if you would come, I’d welcome your knowledge of Akrotia.”

  “I will come, Mistress Cynthia,” he said with a bow, turning to lay a hand on Dura’s shoulder. “Dura can take care of things here in my absence.”

  “Very good. Thank you,” she said, turning to address the entire crowd. “Thank you all! The schooners will leave tomorrow if all is ready. Let’s make it that way!”

  The crowd cheered and dispersed, shouting for supplies and weapons.

  Cynthia turned to Chaser, and signed, *The mer will help me find my son.* It was not a question, not a plea, but not quite a command, either. *Where is Akrotia?*

  *Broadtail will send mer to help you, to guide you and to fight if necessary,* he replied. *Akrotia lies far away to the south and west of the trench south of the isles.*

  *The Sea of Lost Ships,* she signed, referring to the vast, windless gyre of floating weed that dominated the center of the Southern Ocean. *We will leave on tomorrow’s tide, Chaser. Have the mer who will guide us come here, but I think only a few will be necessary.* She gestured to the amassed natives busily loading supplies onto both schooners. *We have plenty to fight, though I can’t imagine Eelback has many to oppose us.*

  *He may have allies,* Chaser signed, his posture indicating caution. *Our deep-dwelling allies say he has many friends among the other races.*

  *Very well.* She wondered what Eelback had promised to gain such friends. *Send the mer here in the morning. We will be ready.* At his sign of assent she released him, allowing the water to spill back into Scimitar Bay. She stared after him as he swam away, starting at a light touch on her arm.

  “Oh, Cammy! Sorry, my mind is a little muddled.”

  “Understandable, all things considered,” her friend said, her countenance restrained. “But there’s one more thing you need to consider before you go.”

  “Only one?” Her bark of laughter sounded strained even to her own ears. She was straining hard just to hold herself together; what else could go wrong? “What is it?”

  “What about Edan?” Camilla said, some of the old fear in her voice.

  “I’ll talk to Edan,” Cynthia said, her resolve strengthening. “I’ve got a use for him.”

  Epilogue

  Freeing the Demons

  Cynthia and Feldrin edged their way through the bustle of activity into the hold of Orin’s Pride, past the provisions, weapons, sailcloth and sweating sailors to the small nook that had been set aside for their unwilling guest. As far as Cynthia was concerned, having seen the inside of Bloodwind’s dungeon, the accommodations could barely be considered a hardship. They’d rigged a cot and brought his belongings from Horace’s cabin, and even rigged a place to hang Flicker’s cage. The only indications that Edan was a prisoner were the iron bands around his ankles, linked by a chain through an eyebolt set in one of the ship’s frames.

  That and the glare from the young man’s eyes as they approached.

  “Hello, Edan,” Cynthia said, trying to keep her tone easy, though there was not going to be anything easy about this.

  “I’d like to know why I’m chained down here,” he said, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. “I didn’t do anything wrong. That ship fired on us. If I hadn’t put fire on them, they’d have killed us all! The bo’sun was already dead, and Captain Brelak was bleeding to death! I would have thought you’d thank me for — ” His eyes widened suddenly. “You had your baby?”

  “No, Edan, I didn’t.” C
ynthia’s tone was no longer easy, and her eyes were hard as flint. “The mer took my baby, but we’ll get to that in a moment.”

  “The mer…” The shock on his face would have warranted laughter had the situation been less dire.

  “As to the reason you’re chained down here, Horace thought it best, and I agree with his judgment. You killed over a thousand men, Edan, and destroyed the emperor’s flagship. And you laughed about it. Don’t you think that is reason enough to restrain you?”

  “No,” he said, his mien transforming from shock to confusion. “They were going to kill us! I just prevented it, the only way I could.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth to respond, but Feldrin’s hand on her arm held her back.

  “Cyn, please, let me.” His calm tone surprised her. “You were scared, lad, and you reacted just about like I expected you would, but ya gotta understand that you started a war here. They attacked us because that crazy girl fired our catapult, which was my fault fer loadin’ the thing in the first place. The Pride coulda taken another salvo without sinkin’, and sailed right outta range. It mighta cost a few lives, but we wouldn’t be in our current pickle. What ya don’t understand is that Horace didn’t flatten you and chain you down here because you burned the Clairissa, but because you were cacklin’ like some kind of lunatic when you’d just killed twelve hundred men!”

  “I didn’t laugh because of that!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. Cynthia took an involuntary step back, the heat of his rising power hitting her like a wall. “I just…I don’t know. The fire was so…it just took hold of me. It felt so…so good!”

  “That I can understand,” Cynthia empathized, “to a certain degree. And I’m prepared to unlock those chains if you agree to one thing.”

  “What?” His tone was instantly wary — understandably, Cynthia thought. He had been trapped by their agreements before.

  “The mer took our son, Edan. He’s alive, and they’ve taken him, though exactly why, we’re still trying to figure out.” Her voice was shaking now; the emotions she’d held tightly under control for days were hammering against her nerves. “We’re going after them. We’re going to get our son back, and I’m going to use every resource, every weapon and every advantage I have to do that.”

  “And you want me to help.” His lips pressed together in a hard line of anger and suspicion.

  “That’s right. I want you to help. I don’t know how, yet, but I know the mer fear you. They fear you even more than they fear me, which in my opinion is stupid, but I’ve given up trying to figure them out. We’re going to find our son, and we’re going to take him back, and you’re going to help us.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Cynthia felt Feldrin tense, his temper flaring, but she put a hand on his arm. “Then you’ll be restrained in the keep until we return, and then you’ll be handed over to the emperor when he comes asking who destroyed their flagship.”

  “Nice,” he said, glaring at them both. “Do you always do this to people you promise to help, or is it just me?”

  “It’s just you, Edan,” she said. She refused to feel the slightest hint of guilt. The thought of his power, his fire, and his anger, made her shudder, but the mer feared him as well. She would use that fear. She would use any weapon she could find to get her son back. “You’re too unpredictable, and too powerful for us to simply let you go. I don’t really care what you think of us. You either agree to help us, or you don’t. It’s your choice.”

  “Not much of a choice,” he said sullenly, his glare unabated.

  “None of us has had much of a choice in this,” she countered, one hand unconsciously resting over her flat stomach. “I’ve given you more choice than I had.”

  Edan glared at them both for a few uneasy breaths, then nodded. “Fine, I’ll help you. Now get these things off my ankles, will you?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning, Edan,” she promised, a thin smile on her lips. “Once we’re well out to sea.”

  ≈

  “You’re sure this is what you want, Timothy?” Emil Norris asked as they stood on the beach of Plume Isle, facing the crystal-clear waters of the lagoon.

  “Yes, Father. I think it’s better this way.” He loosened the jesses from Samantha’s legs and removed her hood. She screeched at the sudden brightness, then settled down, so accustomed to standing on his arm that even with her legs free, she did not fret. Tim reached up and caressed one of her wings with the back of his hand, then flung up his arm, launching the osprey into the air.

  The bird cried out and soared over the lagoon, unfettered for perhaps the first time in her life. Tim and Emil watched for a long time while the majestic bird flew circles over the lagoon. Finally, she swooped low over the reef. Her clawed feet plunged into the calm water and she came up with a colorful fish, yellow and blue, that flapped vainly to escape. Samantha flew low toward them, well-trained, returning to her master, but Tim did not raise his hand to receive her and she turned away, landing on a nearby stump. For a moment the raptor looked at him, then at the fish in her claws, then back several times. Finally she bent her head to feed, tearing off small bits of flesh one at a time, turning her head almost completely around to wrestle each morsel free. Tim and Emil watched her eat.

  “Well, it’s done,” Tim said, dropping the jesses and hood into the sand. “She’s free.” He looked up at his father with tears in his eyes, but the strong trade winds dried them before they could spill over.

  “Yes, it’s done,” Emil Norris agreed, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. He looked up at the bird once more before they turned away and began to climb the trail back over the ridge to Scimitar Bay. “I wonder if she’ll ever come back to us?”

  “I don’t think so, Father,” Tim said. He looked over his shoulder one more time, but his gaze was focused far out to sea, not on the osprey. “Once they learn to feed themselves, they never come back.”

  ≈

  The black of a moonless night hung like a shroud over the myriad cuts and passes through the Shattered Isles, dangerous waters for the unexperienced to navigate in the dark — but the galleon First Venture was captained by an experienced man. They sailed downwind just north of Fire Isle, its burning peak a perfect beacon. First Venture was a big ship, three masts and nearly seven hundred tons fully loaded, and between the winds filling her canvas and the following seas, she was making ten knots.

  All eyes were forward, captain and mate side by side on the quarterdeck, gauging the angle of the wind, the sightings of the island to the south, and the distant roar of the surf to the north. They were in deep water and running well, but they were vigilant nonetheless.

  But no one was watching behind the ship, and in the darkness, the black-on-black of the tarred hulls and canvas of Manta were virtually invisible. The two-hulled craft swooped out of the night like a great bird of prey, coming right up to the galleon’s transom and veering off at the last moment, her starboard bow missing the larger ship’s quarter by less than the height of a man.

  Grapples of fire-hardened wood that trailed lines of braided and tarred bark were thrown from the covert ship, then pulled taut the moment they found purchase along First Venture’s bulwarks. The thunk of the grapples, along with the flap of black sails as Manta slowed, snapped the attention of the captain and crew from their course to the bizarre sight of the two-hulled black ship right next to them. Then dark shapes swarmed up over the side, obsidian knives and clubs lashing out to tear sinew, break bones, and shatter skulls. There were a few cries of alarm from the crew, but not a word from the deadly efficient attackers. They swarmed down hatches, climbed the rig, delved into every cabin and quietly cut down everyone aboard.

  Finally, when silence reigned, the Manta’s captain came aboard and gave the order to cut the grapple lines. The two ships parted, the galleon continuing west until she could turn to the north, Manta following in her wake under reduced sail.

  Sam surveyed the carnage, twitching a little at the sight
of her new family entertaining themselves with one of the crew who wasn’t quite dead. The deck was slick with blood, but she didn’t notice. Her bare feet left a trail of prints as she entered the sterncastle and trundled down the steps.

  She ignored the few signs of struggle below decks and the scent of cooking from the galley as she worked her way aft to the captain’s cabin. She opened the door carefully, squinting in the bright lamplight. The cabin was huge and well-appointed with upholstered seats, an expansive table, and a bed — not a bunk, but a real bed. Its four teak posts were built into the deck and the overhead both — an unbelievable extravagance, even for a ship’s captain.

  She searched quickly, finding the ship’s strongbox without difficulty even though it was cunningly secreted in the captain’s chart table. She pulled it out and eyed the lock. Likely the captain had the key on his person, but she didn’t want to take the time to search all the bodies. She drew her cutlass and smashed the hasp of the lock with the pommel. Just as she thought, the screws holding the bronze hasp were not deeply set into the wood of the chest. Two more blows broke the hasp off, and the lock and hasp clattered over the lid as she flung it open. Neat bags arranged in rows made her smile. They jingled when she lifted them.

  She stood to call for help hauling the gold up onto the deck, then stopped as she heard a sound, a soft sniff, from under the bed. She made a face and lifted the coverlet with the tip of her sword. A girl about Sam’s own age cowered there, wedged into a dark corner, her skirts drawn up around her knees.

  “Hey there!” Sam called softly, sheathing her sword and smiling at the girl’s frightened features. “Hey, come on out of there. I won’t hurt you.” She showed the girl her empty hands, but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t come out immediately. “Come on, come on out. Are you the captain’s lady, then? Come on out. He’s up on deck.”

  “He’s…he’s on deck?” The girl’s voice was a trembling squeak, barely audible. “He’s alive?”

  “He’s fine,” Sam lied, extending a hand, coaxing the girl out. “Come on, you can see for yourself. I won’t hurt you. I know I must look a frightful sight, but I’ve been shipwrecked for months. Come on.”