by Bruce Blake
It grew bigger, taking up more than its fair share of the night. Instead of continuing the same direction as the first shooting star, where it might have fallen on his home's distant shore or continued past into the vast beyond, its course veered toward the land across the sea.
It's heading straight for us.
Teryk faltered back a step, his still-wet boots squelching in the sand. A bright, fiery tail trailed out behind the hurtling star, and he'd have sworn the crackle of the flames reached his ears.
His eyes wanted to continue watching the fireball, but he tore his gaze away from its brightness, glanced backward at the dense forest crowding the shore. Even if the glare of the falling star didn't compromise his vision, he'd be unable to see anything between the tightly packed trunks of trees. What lay beyond them in this foreign place filled with nothing but the unknown remained more of a mystery than the missing days of his life. Heart beating faster, the prince returned his attention to the bright path of light. It closed the distance between itself and the world with incredible speed, its size increasing as it neared. He stumbled back another step, then froze. He looked at his boot; the edge rested the width of the finger from a stretch of black sand.
"Rilum."
Teryk held his ground, afraid to move and topple into the void created where night met colorless beach. He raised his gaze again to the falling star, now as big—if not as bright—as the sun. It didn't light up the sky, but it threatened to blind him. The prince threw his arm in front of his face, blocking the glare while still watching it, impenetrable forest at his back, chasm at his feet.
"Rilum!"
The sailor's rhythmic snore broke apart, punctuated by one loud snort, but then resettled into its natural cadence without further response from the man. Teryk clenched his jaw, lips pressed tight, and swallowed the sudden flood of saliva filling his mouth; it might have been a rock for how it scraped his throat going down. He narrowed his eyelids, lowered his arm.
At the last breathless instant, he realized it wouldn't strike the land across the sea, but it came close.
The ball of light fell to the horizon, its glow reflected on the surface of the water before it disappeared much more abruptly than it began. It did so in silence, as though he'd watched someone blow out a candle at a distance. The tension in his shoulders and legs eased, he inched his feet away from the ominous line between pale and dark, inhaled a lungful of briny night air. Its disappearance extinguished not just his fear, but also an excitement tickling his chest. The land across the sea, stars falling from the sky—here were the clues to prove the veracity of the scroll, proving him to be the savior of mankind. He glanced upward, searching for another, desperate for the validation of more Small Gods plummeting to the ground.
A few heartbeats later, the sound reached him, a crash like none he'd heard before, not even when storm and monster pummeled the Whalebone. The tumult of star striking sea buffeted his ears after being slowed by space and the salty air between them. Distance diminished it from the eardrum-shattering impact it must have been to a rumble, felt as much as heard.
Teryk looked to the ocean. The frequency of waves rolling onto the beach increased, the size of each growing. Beyond, the sea lay black like the night brought to earth, but the horizon had changed, grown darker. No stars hung low in the sky. He squinted, a knife point of concern jabbing into his chest.
From what he made out of it, the top edge of the horizon appeared irregular, the stars above twinkling, some disappearing then reappearing, others winking out and not returning. They simply disappeared.
The first wave splashed against his boots. He glanced down, stared at them, his sleep-deprived mind struggling to cobble together what he perceived as disparate pieces. Another swell rolled up the beach, this one more than kissing his sole. The next struck his foot with enough force to send drops of seawater splashing.
Realization dawned and Teryk stumbled back a step. His gaze returned to the darkened horizon, but now he realized it wasn't the sky empty of stars. A wall of water blocked the heavens from his view. A wave as big as any mountain.
The watery barricade rushed toward land pushing ever-growing waves before it, each successive one finding its way farther and farther up the seashore. The beach rippled beneath Teryk's feet, and he stumbled back a step, forgetting the sharp line between light and dark. When he stole a look down and found his foot crossing onto the black sand, vertigo spun his head. He whirled his arms beside him but couldn't find his balance. He threw his hands out without expecting them to impact anything solid, sure he'd be sucked into the ground instead of being washed away by the monstrous wave.
Rather than disappearing into a void, he landed with the softness of striking his down-filled mattress, chest splashing against the wet sand.
Rilum!
With the falling stars and growing waves, he'd forgotten his companion asleep behind him. He'd neglected the one person who knew where he was, the last of the Whalebone's crew who might help him fulfill the prophecy. Scrambling to his feet, he spun from the sea and lurched back toward where he'd left the sailor, traveling but a single step before stopping.
He stood atop a dune of white sand, the waves washing against its sugary substance without eroding it. Another mound gathered beneath Rilum, lifting the sleeping man up to a level equal to the prince's height.
How—?
A taller wave touched his sole and the sandy hill heaved upward, throwing him off balance, but this time he kept his feet. His head spun, trying to understand what was happening, but through the fog of confusion and sleeplessness, he realized the one thing he needed to do above all others.
Get to Rilum.
Without a backward glance, the prince sprinted for the second growing mound and his companion prone atop it. With each step, he expected his boot to splash in foamy surf, to lose his equilibrium and tumble into the wet, perhaps sucked away into eternal dark. What would it be like trapped in the black powder? Would he live? Would he understand what happened to him? Would he miss the world he left behind?
But he didn't find out. Each time he lifted a foot and set it ahead, a stump of sand rose to meet it. The muscles in his legs threatened to cramp, his forward progress slowing as though he ran on the same down mattress that had caught him a moment ago. Seawater flowed all around him, burbling and rushing, begging him to return to the sea, threatening to take him. Behind it, a constant roar came to his attention, almost unnoticeable for its consistency, but rising with each passing heartbeat. He craned his neck to peer over his shoulder; his feet tangled, throwing him to the ground.
Teryk extended his hands, ready for the impact, to disappear into this foreign land or for the sea to sweep him away, but neither happened. His palms hit soft, dry sand, sank in up to his wrists. He struggled to right himself, return to his flight from death brought on the gigantic wave rushing toward him, return to trying to reach the comfort of at least dying at the side of his companion, but the ground undulated beneath him. It counteracted his balance, kept him prone while propelling him forward.
It carried him fast enough for the wind to stir his hair. He shifted, heart beating hard in his chest, but every time he did, the grains manipulated him, carrying him on and up, until the mound deposited him beside his companion. Teryk grabbed Rilum's shoulder and gave the still-sleeping man a shake.
"Wake up." The prince scrambled to face the beach as the sailor groaned but didn't stir.
The gigantic wave towered so high it devoured the sky, roaring as it did like an enraged beast. To his right, a double column of black sand swirled up in the air, the two twisting round each other and reaching skyward. He cowered from it. The urge to crawl away from this new threat overtook him, and he'd have done so if the mesa on which he stood didn't end immediately behind him. It rose to a greater height than Teryk realized making any backward movement a danger to send him plummeting to the ground below, a distance beyond his guess.
The twisting sand rose high above him in a black
pillar flowing like liquid. It bulged in places, the bottom of it splitting into two narrower stanchions holding up the rest. Another pair split off higher up, these defying nature by hanging downward without detaching. It resembled a tree, twisted by time and weather, but then the trunk changed, assuming an hourglass shape. At the top, the column first thinned, then widened again, ending in an oval. Teryk gaped as it whirled and swirled, rectifying itself into a nose, cheek bones, a mouth—the dark visage of a female face.
As awe and wonder consumed the prince, panic leeched its way into his chest and the roaring of water filled his ears. The sand woman blocked his view of the sea, but the earsplitting sound left no doubt the huge wave bore down upon them.
In the space between her arm and body, he glimpsed the water wall. It towered higher than the top of the swirling pillar, its apex curving downward, ready to wash Teryk and his still-sleeping companion from the world.
At least he won't know what happened.
He imagined he saw driftwood and seaweed carried inside the wave, and fish and sea creatures of many kinds. He tensed, imagining for an instant he might have the strength to resist the sea's power. As it lurched toward him, the sand woman collapsed.
Teryk threw his arm in front of his face and screamed as blackness surrounded him.
XII Danya - Juddah's
They sat in the wagon, none of them moving, Fellick and Ive in the front, Danya and Evalal behind them, as though part of their wares. They stared across the overgrown yard toward the one-level house and the barn leaning like a thing long ago run out of energy and in need of a rest. The princess didn't know what to do; she'd found no opportunity to tell her companion of the barkeep's warning, and her sword belt with the pouch-bound Seed of Life remained lying on the wagon's floorboards. Without guidance, she settled for stretching her neck to peek past Fellick's wide back.
The long grass lay beaten, patches of the yellowed blades tinted with what resembled rust. Even the princess' untrained eye understood the severity of the struggle necessary to cause it, as well as what discolored it in uneven strips. A heap of earth beside a deep hole caught her attention, the spade used to dig it sticking out of the mound of dirt.
A grave?
Her normal curiosity would have prompted her to peer into its depths to see what it held, but she possessed no such desire this time. The conflict suggested by the broken grass gave her a good idea of what she'd most likely find: the man Krin referred to as Juddah.
Danya shivered. Beside her, Evalal sat unmoving. If the princess wasn't sitting close enough to sense her heat, to hear her occasional deep breath, she might have worried someone cast a curse to transform her into a statue. She resisted the urge to reach out, lay her hand on the girl's arm or shoulder to make sure she yet lived.
A gust of wind wafted through the clearing, rustling the still-standing blades of grass, coaxing an eerie moan from them and blowing Danya's hair into her eyes. She shivered and brushed it aside, shifted her gaze to the pouch tied to the discarded sword belt. It lay less than two hand-widths from her boot; no way to reach it without being seen. Her logical side argued against the need to—it contained naught but an over-sized seed. But she knew that wasn't quite true.
She slid her foot toward the bag, grimacing at the sound of leather sole scraping wooden floorboard. Breath held, she raised her eyes to find out if either of the men noticed; they continued staring across the yard as if trying hard might allow them to peer through the walls. Their trepidation sent a sliver of panic through her chest—what caused hesitation with a man of Fellick's repute at your side? She did her best to ignore the discomfort and eased the air out of her lungs, concentrated on moving her foot closer until the edge of her footwear rested against the pouch.
The seed didn't react.
Did I expect it to?
Her gaze returned to the floor of the wagon and the doeskin purse resting against the side of her boot. No wonder she sensed nothing with two layers of dead animal flesh between them. She shifted again, pushing her foot harder against it, the sack kept from moving by the weight of the sword belt. No movement. She placed her sole on top of the bag, searching for the seed it contained. She touched it and imagined she perceived a tremble.
The wagon shook and bounced as one of the men seated in front of her stood.
"What are you doing?" Fellick intoned.
Danya gasped, heartbeat speeding. She jerked her foot away from the pouch and raised her head toward her captors, lips trembling, searching for an excuse and coming up with none.
Instead of finding the weapons merchants glaring at her, ready to punish her for the attempt, their backs remained toward her. Ive stood.
"We can guess what happened here, don't you agree, Mr. Fellick?"
The stout fellow nodded. "Think so."
"Perhaps you might make a search for anything else we should know."
He showed the briefest of hesitations before lowering himself off the wagon, setting it bouncing once more. Danya grabbed the edge of the bench to steady herself, but Ive didn't appear to notice the disturbance it caused. The smaller, powerful man stroked the horse nearest him as he passed, then bulled his way across the yard, tramping yellowed grass beneath his boot soles. Ive returned to his seat, watching his companion.
Danya cleared her throat, leaned forward. "Excuse me."
The slender merchant tilted his head toward her but kept his eyes on Fellick, tension clear in his shoulders. She wondered what made the men nervous. He said nothing, but she took the gesture as an invitation to continue with her question.
"Why are we here?"
"We are meant to meet an associate." His voice came out flat and she detected a hint of distaste.
Danya thought back to the hushed conversation she'd overheard the weapons merchant share with the barkeep.
Birk.
"It doesn't appear as though your friend is here."
"No, it does not."
"Does he live here?" She knew the answer, only asked to see how he'd reply. The act of speaking helped quell the sparks of fear kindled in her by the nervousness she felt coming from the normally unflappable merchants.
"No. A fellow named Juddah does. He is not a good man, and I'm worried what might have happened to my compatriot."
Though his response smacked of truth, she suspected more in his words than what they appeared.
Fellick stopped partway across the yard and knelt to inspect something hidden in the tall grass. She stretched her neck farther, attempting to lay eyes on it, but with no success. A moment later, the stocky man rose again and continued his path toward the shack. He mounted the stair to the porch then disappeared inside. Danya turned to her companion; the girl noticed and returned her gaze.
Neither spoke; they didn't need to. Both their expressions communicated concern and reticence. Danya raised her eyebrows, Evalal answered with a shrug.
The door slammed shut, startling them as Fellick exited the shack. He hopped off the stair and walked straight for the lopsided outbuilding. The barn door stood open and askew, leaning farther than the building itself. Though age or inadequate upkeep might have caused the door's disrepair, to the princess it looked as if someone had ripped it from its anchors in anger.
Fellick disappeared into the barn and noises spilled out—creaking wood, the rattle of metal, the dull thump of pottery breaking. To Danya's surprise, a cow lowed in an unhappy tone. Everything went silent for the space of fifteen heartbeats before he called out.
"Ive!"
The slender man's straight back went straighter still and Danya clamped her teeth together, knotting the muscles in her jaw. Whatever the squat fellow found to cause him to beckon his partner could not be good. She heard Ive inhale a breath, hold it, let it trickle out through his nostrils, then he stood and climbed from his seat. When his feet touched the ground, he turned toward her and Evalal.
"For your safety, it's best if you ladies come with me."
Danya swallowed hard. He thou
ght in his presence a safer place than in a wagon full of weapons? He couldn't believe they'd try to escape with unknown forest surrounding them. She hesitated, and he locked eyes with her, did nothing more than tilt his chin toward the ground to encourage her to do as he said.
With nerves vibrating beneath her flesh and no other choice before her, the princess acquiesced. He offered his help; she reached out but stopped. When he didn't waver, she slid her hand into his. It surprised her to find his skin soft and smooth as though he knew no manual labor. Her feet touched the ground, and she jerked it away. If he took offense, he showed no indication, instead turning his attention to aiding Evalal from the wagon.
Despite the time that passed with Ive's hesitation and helping the two of them down, Fellick did not call for his partner again. Either he trusted the man that much or something terrible had happened.
Ive waved his arm, ushering them across the space ahead of him. Danya looked at Evalal, noticed her own worry reflected in the girl's face, and a new thought struck her.
What if they mean to kill us?
Her mouth filled with sour saliva, and she swallowed hard around a lump grown out of nowhere in her throat. She glanced back toward the wagon where her sword belt lay hidden from her on the floorboards. She curled her hands into fists, touched sweat on her palm.
"Please, princess," he urged.
Danya pressed her lips together. What choice did she have but follow instructions and hope for the best?
What would Trenan do?
A simple answer: he wouldn't have allowed himself to end up in this situation. She chastised herself under her breath for allowing the weapons merchants the upper hand and started out toward the tilting barn. Evalal fell into step beside her in silence, but the princess sensed apprehension radiating from her—perhaps she'd formed the same suspicion about their captors' intent.
