“Unfurl the sails,” the captain commanded.
Silas turned to watch the sails drop from the heights of the masts and the spars and waited until they seemed settled in place and the crewmen were secure.
“Breeze, begin,” he ordered softly, as he ponderously pointed his hand towards the front of the ship.
There was a rustle of canvas as the sails filled with a gentle breeze and the ship surged forward thanks to the power of the wind behind it – behind it and only it.
“Man the wheel; adjust to starboard. We want to miss the sand banks,” the captain instructed the helmsman, who was staring at Silas in fear and fascination.
“You really did it, didn’t you?” a sailor asked from a spot on the deck near Silas. “You sank an entire fleet, didn’t you? Ten thousand men, dead?”
“I don’t know how many died,” Silas replied softly, after a moment of startled silence. His focus on the breeze diminished, as did the flow of the air that filled the sails.
“I didn’t try to kill them; I only tried to save the island,” Silas spoke again, just as softly.
“Silas, the breeze,” Jimes reminded him, and Silas focused on restoring the breeze that carried the boat across the harbor waters in a few quick minutes, and then grew stronger and pressed the boat at a faster pace when the Seabird was free in the open sea.
“He didn’t mean any harm by it, lad,” an officer tried to comfort – or perhaps placate – Silas several minutes later when he walked past the Mover.
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Silas politely acknowledged. He kept his power focused on a steady, continual breeze as the officer nodded and walked on, but a part of his mind began to dwell on the fates of the men who had been aboard the ships he had sank. Many – perhaps most – of them had no intention of turning into murderers and assassins and thugs when they had been cajoled into joining the army of Ivaric, Silas was sure. But fate had put them into the wrong spot at the wrong time, as Silas had overplayed the powers made available to him by Kai and had thrown all the armada souls into the deep, cold, dark waters of the ocean.
He soon decided to diminish his breeze and was pleased to see that the natural breeze blowing across the open sea was just as strong as his moving air was, and it kept the ship hurling towards the east, towards the mainland and the harbor of Barnesnob.
The four passengers were mainly left alone by the officers and the crew, through a combination of awe of Silas’s abilities and reputation, as well as disdain for the non-sailors who seemed so out of place aboard the ship. Silas and Lexy proceeded to practice sword work, using wooden stakes they found about the deck, and drew admiring glances from the men of the crew for the gracefulness and speed with which they handled their improvised weapons.
“You should come and practice with us Stash,” Silas called to the thief who idly watched the practice.
“That looks much too dangerous to me,” Stash disdained to practice. “I’d rather just sneak up behind someone and use a knife on them,” he grinned as he made a slashing motion with his hand across his neck, to show his preferred means of dealing with opponents.
“Why are you so good with a sword?” Lexy asked Silas. “You can just move someone away with your voice; why do you need to even pull your sword from your scabbard?”
“I wasn’t always a Mover,” Silas answered. “I learned sword work from a guard in a caravan long before I knew I would have these other powers. He was a strict teacher, and I learned a lot.”
Silas thought of the caravan, remembering it for the first time in many long weeks. He thought of Prima’s caravan, and Sareen, the girl he had practiced with under the tutelage of Ruten. It had been a well-run organization even while it had constantly moved, as Prima and his team of leaders, Ruten and Minnie, had known how to keep the wagons, the animals, the workers, and the cargo all in a state of successful operation.
It had looked simple to Silas at the time he had been innocently riding with the caravan, but he understood in retrospect that it had been a trying experience for those in charge.
He wished he was back in circumstances where he could count on someone else to be in charge, instead of having to take on responsibility himself.
“This is Sloeleen, a Speaker in Amenozume, calling Jimes. Crockery language. The tea pot is broken. Jimes. Crockery. Teapot is broken. Respond with information on clay and firing time in the kiln,” Silas heard Sloeleen calling to Jimes. She was speaking in code, using a code developed by the Wind Word Guild, and Silas realized it was a code he had not learned.
In his moment of distraction, he felt a solid strike to his rib cage, as Lexy continued to spar with him while his attention was diverted. He stepped back and bent low for a second, then rubbed his tender spot and held up a hand to Lexy.
“Let’s stop for a moment,” he told her.
His eyes left her, and began circling around the deck, looking for Jimes.
“This is Jimes, a Speaker, responding to Sloeleen on Amenozume. Crockery language,” Silas heard Jimes’s voice also call, responding to Sloeleen.
“What is it Silas?” Lexy asked, unaware of the Wind Word messages that she could not hear. “Your feelings hurt because I beat you?”
Jimes began to send a Wind Words message, using the same types of verbal images and coded phrases that Sloeleen had used. Silas spotted Jimes, standing in the bow of the ship, facing towards the rear, towards Amenozume. Their eyes met, and Jimes’s cheeks turned red.
“Silas?” Lexy asked again, confused by his disinterest in fencing.
“There’s a conversation,” Silas held up a hand in front of himself. “I want to hear it.”
“Is it the gods? Are they talking to you?” Lexy asked breathlessly.
Silas shushed her, and Jimes’s comments drew to a close. As soon as they did, he walked rapidly towards Silas.
“What was that?” Silas asked flatly.
“The palace is searching for you, at the princess’s command. Sloeleen thought to call me, to check on whether she could reach me, and whether I knew where you are.”
“And what did you say?” Silas asked.
“I told the truth,” Jimes stuttered slightly. “I figured it didn’t matter now; we’re already on board a ship and well ahead of anyone else.”
Silas stood silent, frustrated. He had hoped to have more of a lead. He had told himself he would have to send messages back to the people he had left behind, but he hadn’t composed such messages yet. They would be difficult and delicate to convey.
“Sloeleen wasn’t happy,” Jimes’s next comment interrupted Silas’s thoughts. “She said she doesn’t want to be the one to tell the princess that you’ve run away from her!”
Silas gave a half grin as he also gave a slight shake of his head. Lumene was a strong-willed woman; she would react passionately to the news.
“We need to get this ship moving forward,” he said out loud. “We need to build our lead over anyone Lumene tries to send to follow us.” He looked up at the sails, then turned to face the helmsman. “I’m going to give you more wind,” he warned.
The helmsman nodded as Silas had a momentary blank look upon his face, while he focused inwardly and called upon his energy. “Push us forward,” he commanded the breeze with a motion of his hand. The air came racing in behind the ship, and everyone felt the hull begin to surge forward, cutting through the water at a high pitch as it moved faster, while the sails billowed forward with the new-found breeze.
Crew men stopped their tasks to look at the sails, then looked at Silas, then returned to their duties after a few seconds of study.
“Why do you think the princess will try to follow us? What good would it do her?” Lexy asked Silas.
“She’s going to feel betrayed,” Stash spoke up to answer. “She’s going to want to put a pair of eyes on the man who betrayed her by running away from her.”
Silas nodded silently in agreement.
“Let’s get back to practice,” he told Lexy. “No
need to chew over this any longer.” And they did resume their match once more.
Later that afternoon, Silas left the others and walked to the back of the ship, where he stood alone, facing towards Amenozume and the land and the people he had left behind there.
“Mata, this is Silas,” he began to speak, using his Voice to send a message to his estranged lover. “I’ve left Amenozume. I’m on a ship, heading back to the mainland to start the next fight against Ivaric and L’Anvien.
“It doesn’t matter where I’m going. I just wanted you to know that I’ve left. I know I’m just proving you right perhaps – maybe I just can’t stay in one place and raise a family and live a calm life. I know I have to do something different. The gods have said so, and people need me to.
“I wouldn’t want our child to be born in a place where L’Anvien can demand human sacrifices and spread evil and hatred.
“I don’t know when I might return to Amenozume,” he concluded his comments to Mata. “I know that I hope you’ll be happy and comfortable and safe. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother. I love you; you’re a good person.”
As he finished the message, he realized that he might truly never return to Amenozume. The course of the battles ahead might take weeks or months or years, and the experiences he would go through might transform all his thoughts about what his future would hold.
He felt numb. The message had been unexpectedly difficult to send, to consider, to compose. He felt a sense of finality, as though the message had managed to close an open door and cut off an inflow of self-doubt.
Sending the message had wrought more pain than he had expected. It was enough for the day. He had intended to send it, and then to immediately send a message to Princess Lumene as well, to tell her of his decision to begin the next stage of the war, to tell her too that he had left her behind.
But he didn’t want to feel that door slam shut too, not on the same day as his message to Mata. He’d send his confession to Lumene later, on a different day, when he felt ready to release the words that were trapped within him.
Silas released his use of power at dinner time, worn by the long and steady drain of his abilities. The ship slowed, and the hum of the hull deepened. Silas didn’t feel exhausted, but he did feel pleased by the release of his power, and he sat quietly on the deck with his friends as they ate the same meal served to the crew and watched the sun set over the western sea behind them.
“Another couple of days like that and we’ll be in Barnesnob faster than anyone has ever sailed,” an officer said approvingly as he passed by the small group. “The Seabird will be famous!”
Silas offered up his powers the next morning and set the ship to sailing at the high velocity once again for hour after hour of advancement across the empty sea. He was happy to be on the deck, and napped when he wasn’t crossing the wooden practice swords with Lexy. Napping seemed desirable; sleeping four people in hammocks in a single small cabin hadn’t proven to be conducive to sleep.
The second night was easier for sleeping. And on the third day, Silas didn’t need to provide any additional wind to speed the ship along, at first. In the morning, wind and rain were evident and abundant when the passengers on the ship awoke.
“It’s cruel to make the crewmen work out in the rain,” Stash commented, as the four travelers looked out through a narrow door at the sailors who carried out their duties on the deck and in the rigging of the sails while gusts of heavy rain and wind impeded their work. “I wouldn’t put up with it; that’s why I’m an independent businessman.”
“If they didn’t do their duties in the rain, the ship wouldn’t sail,” Silas answered mildly.
“Hmmp,” Stash grunted noncommittally.
The stormy conditions plagued the ship throughout the day and the night. The weather grew rougher, making the seas rougher, and the ship began to suffer from violent motions, leaving the four travelers seasick and uncomfortable.
“I have to go up on deck,” Lexy pronounced before she bolted out of the cramped cabin in the middle of the night.
She arrived back just minutes later, shouting excitedly.
“The ship’s sinking!” she announced. “We have to go up to the deck!”
“What’s happening?” Silas asked an officer who was running by among the panicked crew members on the deck after Silas and the others climbed up into the wind and the rain.
“We’ve sprung a leak. One of our seams has opened up and we’re taking on water. In this weather there’s no way for us to repair the leak, and we can’t pump the water out fast enough to prevent the hold from filling,” the man answered. “I’ve got to go tend to the life boats,” he pulled himself free from Silas’s grasp and hurried on by.
Silas repeated the news to his friends over the loud noises of the crew and the storm.
“What are we going to do?” Jimes asked.
“I’m going to go see if I can help in the hold,” Silas answered, and be began to unsteadily descend the ladders between dark decks, so that he soon reached the spot where the captain and a crewman stood with a lantern, watching the level of water slosh in the hold as new fluids gurgled in through the opening in the hull.
“What if I can force the water out and keep it out for a while?” Silas asked. “Would you be able to fix it? Would the ship be okay?”
The captain looked at him in astonishment. “What do you mean, ‘force the water out’?” he asked.
Silas looked at the water, then held both of his hands out in front of him, his palms down, and he focused his energy on making the water drain out of the ship, as he released his power.
There was an immediate change in the noise in the bottom of the ship, as the burbling and gurgling of the water grew silent. The change in the level of the water in the hold wasn’t immediately evident, but as the three men stood and watched, the waves lapping up against the bucking sides of the ship began to crest at lower spots on the wood.
“Renkins, go up to the deck and tell them to cancel the evacuation!” the captain dispatched the crewman with him.
“This is astonishing, my lord!” the captain was nearly in tears. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s harder than I thought,” Silas said through gritted teeth. “I’m used to moving air, but the water is so much more substantial it takes more effort.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep the hold empty once I get this water out. The faster you can make repairs the better we’ll be,” he warned.
“As soon as we can take a good look at the seam, we’ll know what to do to stop the leak. We’ll need some time to heat the pitch,” the captain told Silas.
“Can you get it started now? Heating up the pitch?” Silas asked. He sensed that his abilities were draining away faster than the water. “I won’t be able to do this for long,” he emphasized.
“I’ll leave the lantern with you. Keep doing your best lad,” the captain said warmly as he patted Silas on the back, then climbed the ladder to go make preparations for a hasty repair to the storm-damaged ship.
Silas dropped to his knees and kept his hands pressed down as he focused solely on making the water in the ship continue to be pressed back into the ocean. He could see that he was making progress, as the level of the water grew increasingly shallow, but he also felt his own energy waning at a faster pace than he expected.
He wished he had Forna available again; if he had his cousin to provide reserves, he would be able to achieve a completely dry hold and maintain the conditions for quite a bit longer. But Forna remained back in Amenozume, and Silas couldn’t count on the miraculous aid she had provided in the fight against the Ivaric fleet, just as he couldn’t count on Kai to lend him a touch of her energy.
But he could perhaps appeal to Shaish, the goddess of water.
He had no particular relationship with the goddess, but he was desperate for any assistance he could find.
“Please my dear lady, come to my aid and help me with your
element. Help me hold back this water so that this ship will not sink,” he prayed. “I call upon you Shaish with all my soul.”
Silas thought he felt a refreshing breeze blow over him, helping to revive him slightly, and he continued to focus on making the water level go down. As he watched the dim scene, he saw a patch of water suddenly grow agitated, and then he saw a skeletal hand shockingly rise up out of the water momentarily, before flailing back below the surface. Another patch of water on the other side of the bilge compartment of the ship began to similarly bubble and boil.
A ragged, skeletal skull rose above the water and slowly looked around. Silas felt his hackles rise in disbelief. The skull’s dark eye sockets turned to stare directly at him, then the head dropped down into the water once more.
Silas wanted to flee. He found he was paralyzed in place, unable to move.
More of the water started to move unnaturally, and then Silas watched in horror as a half dozen dead men, their bodies ravaged and decomposed, slowly crawled up along the walls of the hull, emerging from the water and rising up along the wooden walls like cicada nymphs emerging from their subterranean burrows.
“What are you? Who are you?” Silas shouted in fear. He wanted to adjust his energy to sweep the horrible sights away, but he had every ounce of his energy focused on keeping the water level lowered and the ship afloat in the dangerous storm.
“We are the ghosts of the men you killed, the soldiers of the fleet that you sent to a watery death,” one of the ghastly figures moaned the words.
“We’ve come to invite you to join us,” another one said.
Silas felt his head spinning.
“No!” he shouted. “This is not the time to die!”
He felt hands gripping his shoulders, hands he hadn’t seen approaching. The grip was tight, virtually unbreakable, and Silas passed out.
Chapter 7
“Silas, wake up,” Jimes was standing next to him, holding his shoulder tightly.
Silas opened his eyes, and immediately shut them, as a bright light overhead pierced his skull.
Foundations Broken and Built Page 6
