* * *
Momentarily weightless, Catrin hung, suspended in air, until her feet touched the deck once again. The Slippery Eel slammed into the trailing edge of the wave and raced back toward the relatively calm waters behind it. More waves came but none as big as the first.
"Men overboard!" Catrin shouted. Not far away, she spotted someone in the water. Determined to help, she tied an oar from one of the boats to the end of a rope and cast it toward him. For several tense moments, Catrin watched Farsy try to reach the oar, fighting the waves. Kenward slowed the ship, and Farsy grasped Catrin's line.
Chase came to her aid, and they pulled him in, wrapping him in blankets once he was on deck. The crew searched the water for the other man, but he was lost. After a headcount, they found it was Nimsy, a man who'd always been kind to Catrin, and she wept in mourning, tears streaking her soot-stained face as she continued to shovel ash from the deck.
"Have mercy! The finger of the gods!" someone shouted, and Catrin looked to the rigging, following the stares. There she saw a terrifying sight. Orange and red flames licked the rigging without consuming or even scorching it. Fingers of liquid light crawled over the mast and crow's nest, reaching toward the sky. Sheets of translucent flame enveloped the sails and danced over them, seemingly without touching them, as if it were only the specter of fire. It was almost like what she had seen in the Pinook harbor but visible to all.
The energy of the ash storm intensified, reaching out to them, and Catrin feared they would be struck by ghastly red lightning. When the crew began praying and casting offerings into the sea, she joined them by offering a lock of her hair. Perhaps if she gave something of herself, she thought, the gods would show mercy.
Shouts on the other side of the deck got her attention, and a crowd gathered there as Nimsy was miraculously pulled from the water. Could the gods have heard their prayers? Unsure what to believe, Catrin cut a much larger lock of her hair and cast it into the waves, knowing it could do no harm.
Turning slowly, the Slippery Eel came about and made for the waters where the Stealthy Shark had last been seen. The ash cloud blotted out the sky from above, and more ash rolled steadily across the water toward them.
"Take cover in the deckhouse!" Kenward ordered, and the crew rushed to comply, seeing what looked like the breath of a demon bearing down on them. "Hold your breath and cover yourselves," he shouted just before the remains of the pyroclastic cloud washed over the Slippery Eel, engulfing her in a rolling maelstrom of ash and fire. When it passed, shouts and coughing were all that could be heard. Covered in ash and burns, the crew put out the fires and gave every effort, but the ash accumulated faster than they could remove it, slowly pulling them under.
Like a blessing from the gods, a strong wind descended from the north and drove the ash before it, dispersing it. While it made the problem worse for a while, eventually the air began to clear and the sun was visible behind a foul and gauzy haze. Ash still fell, but the intensity was greatly dissipated as the wind diffused the ash and spread it over a larger area. Fire still belched from what remained of the mountain, but even that began to subside.
Tears filled Catrin's eyes as the first of the debris appeared. Seeing only small bits at the start, she prayed the Stealthy Shark had survived, but then large chunks began to appear, scattered across the waves. Kenward watched with his jaw clenched, and Catrin could almost see his heart breaking. She held her breath, waiting for something to wake her from this nightmare.
"Survivors to port!" the lookout shouted, and Catrin ran to see who it was. On a floating section of sail and rigging were Strom, Osbourne, Nora, and three of Fasha's crewman. Elated, Catrin help lower the boarding net while men cast out lines for them to grab on to.
Osbourne reached the deck first and asked for help preparing a litter. "Nora's hurt bad," he said. "We're gonna need help getting her aboard."
Kenward and his crew moved with determination that bordered on panic. Soon, though, the crewman secured Nora to the litter and she was raised to the deck. Barely conscious, she apprised Kenward on her condition and how her wounds were to be treated. Even as they set broken bones and closed gaping wounds, she continued to give orders through clenched teeth.
"Find Fasha," she said before her eyes closed. Kenward stood over her, willing her chest to rise and fall.
"Do what you can to find the rest," Catrin said. "I'll come for you if her condition changes."
"Bless you," he said as he turned back to his crew. "Get boats in the water! I want everyone found. Now!" As soon as the boats were in the water, he moved the Eel away, looking for anyone in the distance.
Nora was taken to Kenward's cabin and made as comfortable as possible. She drifted in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently. Catrin sat at her side, trying to remember what she had learned from past attempts at healing. Perhaps she was fooling herself, she thought, but her efforts seemed to calm Nora and sent her into a peaceful sleep. After a time, Catrin felt she had done what she could do, and she went in search of Kenward to apprise him of her condition. He stood at the wheel, his eyes filled with tears. They had found more debris but no more survivors. As daylight began to fade, he turned the Eel back to retrieve the boats.
Cheers carried across the water as three more of Fasha's crew were pulled into the boats. Catrin and Kenward stood side by side, trying to deny the harsh reality. Benjin, Fasha, and most of her crew were lost. The Stealthy Shark was no more.
"I'm so sorry," Kenward said as his shoulders began to shake. His poignant anguish washed over Catrin, mixed with her own, and drove a wedge into her soul. Impotent rage gnawed at her very being, and she felt as if she would erupt, just as the mountain had.
Kenward continued the search for three days, but it was Nora who demanded they move on. "If they were going to be found, it would've happened by now. We must accept it, Son. They're gone."
* * *
Nat waited on a mossy rock near the spring where Neenya swam. This place was special to her, and she brought him here only when she was feeling especially happy. Her smile drew him closer, and he marveled at the way the light danced in her eyes.
It had been a long time since he last visited the mountaintop; he always seemed to be busy with one task or another. Life was pleasant here, and he could easily forget his worries. Trips to the mountain brought only pain and grief. Most of the time, he didn't even understand his visions. What good came from them? Secretly, he'd been working on mental exercises that he hoped would suppress the visions. It shamed him, but a peaceful life with Neenya seemed worth it.
As he bent down to kiss her, though, he felt a warm sensation on his lips, and he wiped them with the back of his hand, which came away covered in blood. Neenya's scream faded as the world shifted.
Atop an unbelievably tall wave ran a white panther; on its back rode Catrin, her colorless hair pulled back by the wind. The staff she held came alive, its eyes gleaming as it spread its wings and flew. The white cat reared, but the water pulled at his legs, and he tumbled into the leading edge of the crashing wave. In an instant Catrin and her cat were gone.
Still the water came, and Nat, standing on the highest mount, watched the seas rise until the water lapped at his feet.
"Neenya," Nat said when the vision released him. "We must hurry."
* * *
Pulling hard on the too light load, Mark Vedregon cursed the monsters that continually ruined his nets. They had caught enough fish to feed his men for a week, but as had happened so many times before, something cut the nets before they reached the surface. More of the reptile beasts, he suspected--Gholgi, Belegra had called them. Powerful and crafty, they were proving to be capable foes. Hindering their fishing efforts was only one of the ways the beasts harried Mark Vedregon and his men, slowly wearing them down.
"Nets were cut again, sir. Shall we repair 'em?"
"Not now. We can do that when we get back to shore. Drop the trawl tubs. Maybe we'll get lucky and hook some of those boil
ing beasts in the process."
"Aye, sir."
"Even if we could catch enough to feed us," Second Richt said, "Archmaster Belegra will take it to feed his pet." His moody gaze scanned the seas, but then he stopped. Pointing out to sea, he stood mute and trembling, unable to make himself speak. Mark Vedregon gave frantic orders, and the crew moved with haste, despite knowing it was already too late. The sea would claim them.
* * *
Miss Mariss walked the avenues, passing faces both familiar and strange. So many things had changed, and yet many were still the same. When she reached the docks, Amnar greeted her with his usual toothless grin.
"Hallo, missus," he said. "I set a nice mackerel aside fer ya and a few toadfish. The currents run strange these days; I'd have more for ya if I could."
"I appreciate what you have, Amnar. We make do with what we can get these days," she said, moving on to where Lendra and her new mate, Bavil, waited.
"The pots were heavy today, Miss Mariss. We've blue crab, shedders, and wall-climbers for you."
"Thank you," she said, dropping a silver into Lendra's palm. Looking beyond the docks, Miss Mariss wondered how Strom, Catrin, and the others fared, but a curious sight drew her attention. Children playing on the beach ran out to grab stranded fish and crabs as the bay began to rapidly recede. Faster that the swiftest tide, the water rushed away from land, as if there were a great hole in the seafloor.
For a time she was mesmerized by the sight, as were others, but then the realization set in and her mind could conceive only one explanation. "Get away from the water! Make for high ground," she shouted. "The seas are coming! The seas are coming!"
* * *
At the helm of the Slippery Eel, Kenward gripped the wheel as if it were his only link to sanity. Sadness, more powerful than anything he'd ever imagined, threatened to cripple his mind and body. Tears sprang to his eyes without warning, as feelings of loss manifested as physical pain. He felt as if his heart were truly broken.
Using a short staff as a cane, Nora limped to his side, but he said nothing; he just continued to stare out at the endless horizon.
"I miss her too," she said.
Those words were more than Kenward could bear, and he began to cry. "I'm so sorry," he said, and he gave the wheel over to Bryn. Unable to even lift his eyes to meet hers, he walked to his mother and wrapped her in a tight hug as he wept.
"It wasn't your doing, Son. You are not to blame."
"I was supposed to save her," he said, feeling as if his chest might explode. "Why couldn't I save her?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, Son. I miss her too," Nora said. Together they cried. In a rare display, they stood, holding each other. Crewmen came, one by one, each with a kind word or a pat on the shoulder. Silently and together, the ship mourned.
To Kenward, the loss seemed surreal, and he kept expecting to wake up, for all this to have been but a dream. Nothing seemed as it should. Colors were dull, and sounds that might once have been beautiful were now harsh and somehow disrespectful. The world without Fasha seemed a poorer place. She had been a second half of him, always there to counter him, a constant challenge to his wits. His mother had intended to hand the Trader's Wind down to Fasha; he was certain of it. That thought led him to another crushing realization: His pain was but a small fraction of what his mother must be experiencing. "I know I can never take Fasha's place," he said, "but I'll try harder."
"Nonsense," Nora said. "You're doing just fine. Fasha is my daughter, and nothing could ever replace her, but I would be just as lost without you."
Kenward raised his eyes, surprised by what he heard.
Nora laughed. "A fool boy you may be, but you're my fool boy."
* * *
By the dim light of her lamp, Nora lay in her hammock, caressing the walls of Kenward's ship with her fingertips, her mind elsewhere. She was proud of Kenward for allowing himself to grieve, and she was proud of herself. She'd been taught to conceal her feelings from the crew, to always present a confident front. While the tactic had worked well during her career, Kenward had taught her something. His crew exuded something that surpassed loyalty. They followed him not because he commanded them, but because they cared about him; some might say they loved him.
It explained the one thing that Fasha had always questioned: How did he get his crew to obey his reckless orders? Nora could see Fasha as she had been in those moments, her arms crossed over her chest and fire in her eyes. From her pocket, she pulled a gold locket that filled her palm. Inside were things that would be valuable to only a mother: the dried, crumbling remains of a sea daisy and a tiny coral fan. Kenward had given her the sea daisy when he was five summers, and the coral had come from a small, unnamed island they had found when avoiding a massive storm. After the storm had passed, Fasha, who was ten at the time, spent an afternoon swimming around the colorful reefs. When she came back to the ship, she was so excited to show Nora what she'd found. Fasha's smile and laughter were forever ingrained in her memory.
Flipping the locket closed, Nora sighed. Somehow, she would keep Kenward safe.
* * *
When the Keys of Terhilian finally came into view, they looked little like what Catrin recalled. What had been white beaches lined by thick forest were now fields of mud and debris as far as could be seen. She sighed in relief when they came to the Terhilian Lovers, which had withstood the fury of the sea.
Kenward set a course, following the megalithic statue's pointing finger. "Let's get there and be done with this," he said. "I've no more taste for adventure. I'll happily take a quiet life of trading."
"It took you long enough to figure that out, fool boy," Nora said, leaning on her short staff. Her bones were still knitting, but she insisted on watching over the crew. Catrin agreed with Kenward, wanting nothing more to do with adventure. What she would have once thought of as glorious and exciting now tasted of death and despair. Too many had died, and Catrin could find no justification, no end worth those means.
The possibility of any of them surviving this journey grew smaller with every day, and Catrin knew she would probably never leave the Firstland, assuming they found it. If she did, though, she promised herself she would go home. Dead or alive, that was where her father was, and she was determined to find her way back to him.
From the beginning, her journey had been costly, but the loss of Benjin was more than she could bear. Only the love she had for those still around her kept her from throwing herself into the sea. Chase stood by her side and put his arm around her. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"You can't keep it all inside, Cat; it'll eat its way out eventually."
"Then let it," she said, feeling foolish. "Talking won't bring them back, and I doubt it'll make me feel any better. Why bother?"
"I miss him too," Chase said, and his simple admission uncorked the wellspring of emotion she could no longer keep inside.
Her jaw quivered and her shoulders shook, but she did not want to cry. To cry was to be a victim, to lament her losses and accept them, but she didn't want to accept them; that was simply too painful. She wanted someone to blame, someone to punish.
"I need exercise," she said. "Will you spar with me?"
"Will you talk to me afterward and tell me how you are really feeling?" Chase asked.
"If I must."
"You must," he said, getting practice swords from storage. He tossed one to Catrin but was unprepared for her sudden attack.
"So that's how you want it?" he asked, lying on his back and rubbing the lump that was growing on the back of his head. Rolling backward, he got back to his feet and readied himself for her next attack.
Pent-up rage drove Catrin. In front of her, she saw not Chase, but the source of all her problems, and she attacked without thought or mercy. Moving by sheer instinct, she fought as she had never fought before, and Chase fell before her attacks.
"That's enough for me," he said, limping and rubbing his bruises. "Find someo
ne else to beat up." He walked away, looking hurt.
Catrin was not yet done venting her anger, but no one else would spar with her, having seen how poorly Chase had fared against her raging attacks.
Unwilling to keep her anger inside any longer, she searched the dry hold and found a sack of dried reeds. After hanging it from the rigging, she attacked, her practice sword slicing the air, pounding the sack mercilessly. Even after reducing the sack to shreds, though, she did not feel any better.
Her heart pounding, she climbed atop the bowsprit. "Why do you hate me so much?" she screamed at the sky, challenging the gods themselves. "What have I done to deserve such evil and malice?"
Crew members stopped what they were doing, and Bryn readied a harness in case she fell from her dangerous perch, but Catrin barely noticed them. "Come, Istra. Come, Vestra. Right here . . . right now. Let us end this. If you wish me to suffer, then come down here and fight me yourselves. Cowards! I don't fear you, and I spit on your names. I cast your own hate back at you. What do you say to that?"
As if to answer her, lightning split the air and thunder rolled across the water. Gusting winds threatened to knock her from the bowsprit, but she remained there, challenging the gods to a duel. Only when Chase grabbed her ankles did she see the world around her again. Dark clouds moved in swiftly from the west, and stinging rain began to fall.
"Cowards!" she shouted one last time, shaking her fist in the air, before she let Chase guide her back to the deck.
"Cripes, Cat. You're scaring the crew. Calm down."
Shaking, Catrin took deep breaths and tried to do as he said. When the rage passed, though, exhaustion took its place, and she let Chase carry her to her cabin.
"It'll all work out somehow, Cat. Even if we have to take on the gods themselves, somehow we'll make it right. I promise," he said as he pulled a blanket over her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
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