Sennar's Mission

by Licia Troisi

  Sennar could feel only the pirate’s arms, wrapped tightly around his chest, could hear only the booming cry of his voice: “Men! Prepare the harpoons!”

  Under Rool’s command, the crew regained its courage and began dealing heavy blows to the creature. On either side of the ship a group of pirates gaffed its tentacles while another went at them with swords and axes.

  A putrid, yellowish liquid spewed from its hacked limbs, and the air filled with the beast’s bloodcurdling screams.

  Benares’s voice came as a distant, muffled echo to Sennar’s ears. “Bring us down! Bring us down, dammit!”

  Sennar could feel that someone was shaking him.

  “Down, I said. We’re in the clear!”

  The sorcerer opened his eyes and saw the open sea before him. The red disc of the setting sun seared his pupils. The cool evening wind lashed his face.

  The ship landed smoothly. Behind it, the last flailing tentacle of the beast faded from view. Triumphant shouts rose up from the deck. The nightmare was over.

  Sennar was trembling from head to toe. Benares said nothing. He carried Sennar from the prow and handed him quickly to Dodi. Then he took off running the length of the deck.

  “Aires!” the pirate shouted. “Aires!”

  “My daughter! Say something!” Rool echoed.

  A heavy silence pervaded the ship.

  Then a weak voice called out from on deck. “I’m … I’m here.”

  Aires lay pinned beneath the remains of the sterncastle, miraculously unharmed.

  They were floating out in the middle of the sea, the Vaneries far behind them, the Underworld still far ahead. But they were alive, and they were beyond the monster’s reach.

  “We must push onward,” Rool said to the crew gathered around him on deck.

  “And how do we plan to do that?” one pirate let out. “We don’t have the manpower. Most of our sails are torn up and one of the masts is destroyed.”

  Aires chimed in. “We can mend the sails. As for the mast, we still have the other two. What, are you afraid we won’t make it?”

  Cries of protest rose up among the crew.

  “You’ve lost your head over that brat,” one of them hissed.

  “Silence!” the captain thundered. “I’m the one who decides around here. Now, let’s roll up our sleeves and get moving. This place stinks of death.”

  The crew did all they could to mend or salvage something from the tattered sails, but with little success. They ended up with small and heavily mended scraps, far inferior to the original sails. When the wind picked up, they were forced to lower them. When the wind died down, the ship could only crawl along.

  The spell had exhausted Sennar. As soon as he felt well enough to leave the hold, he climbed back up to the deck, wrapped in a blanket, and went directly to Rool’s cabin. There, he found the captain and his daughter perched over the map.

  “We have to change course,” said Rool, seeing Sennar enter the room.

  Sennar walked over to the table, his brow knit. “Are we heading in the wrong direction?”

  The captain pointed to a small archipelago. “No. But these islands are our only hope of making it out alive. They’re not that far off—one, maybe two weeks’ travel. And they should be located at a safe distance from the whirlpool.”

  Sennar reflected for a moment, silent, then nodded. “Alright then, Captain. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll stop there. You leave me a boat and we go our separate ways.”

  For a moment, his words were met with silence.

  “Sennar, at least think it through. …” Aires began.

  The sorcerer cut her off. “When I accepted this mission, I knew what I was getting myself into.”

  Aires sprang to her feet. “It’s not just difficult! It’s impossible! It’s been impossible from the very beginning. You’ll never make it out alive. So what’s the point?”

  A fist slammed down on the table. “Enough with this whining, Aires,” Rool commanded. “It’s his choice. End of story.”

  Two weeks after their encounter with the monster, the sea beneath them turned white as milk. Mounds of debris swirled in the water and the current grew more and more violent.

  One morning, Sennar climbed up at dawn and looked out at the waves foaming against the ship. He felt a heavy weight lift off his shoulders. I’m here. He could finally feel the whirlpool’s force. The wait was over.

  Slowly, the crew began to gather on deck, making preparations for the launch of Sennar’s boat. As the sailors loaded food and water onto the small craft, Sennar could feel the blood drain from his face. His lips were tingling, his mouth dry. He couldn’t keep his hands from trembling.

  Aires stood beside him, silent, until the boat was ready.

  The pirates rallied on deck and waited.

  Sennar looked them over, one by one. They were his traveling companions. When he spoke, his voice cracked with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You’re … you’re extraordinary men, all of you. And I truly thank you.” He turned to Rool. “I wish I could help you on the return journey, Captain.”

  Rool stepped forward and gave him a slap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about us, Sennar. We’re seadogs, after all, aren’t we? You should worry about saving your own skin.”

  Next came Dodi. “Bon voyage, sorcerer. We’ll see each other again soon,” he said with his trusting smile.

  Some pirates wished him a bitter good-bye, others waved him off with a grin of satisfaction. Finally, this cursed guest would be off their ship. Even Benares shook his hand, an icy smile on his face.

  Aires was the last to approach. For a long while, she held him in her arms. Then, letting go, she looked him in the eye. “Don’t go,” she said under her breath. “Join our crew.”

  Sennar shot her a half smile. “I’m much too well-behaved, Aires, you know that. The pirate’s life just doesn’t suit me.”

  The sound of the waves breaking against the keel made him quiver. He looked down as his lifeboat swayed over an ebullient sea. “Lower the boat, ” he said faintly.

  As he descended, Rool, Aires, Dodi, and the rest of the crew disappeared behind the gunwale. And soon he was alone with the sea.

  The moment his boat touched the water, the current took hold of him. His long voyage was nearing its end. Sennar’s hands froze and his heart beat so hard it nearly ruptured his chest. He’d felt this way once or twice before, but only in dreams—the feeling that he was going to die and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Then he’d wake to the peaceful calm of his bedroom, relieved that there was nothing to fear. But this time there’d be no waking up. There was nothing to do but sink further into his lifeboat and wait for the end. The thought horrified him. Why should I die like this? He squeezed the boat’s empty oarlocks so hard his knuckles whitened. What’s the point?

  The boat was barreling forward. To keep from falling out, Sennar held on tight to the edges. Then, he lifted his eyes and saw the whirlpool.

  It was unimaginable, monumental, horrifying. It stretched for miles across the sea; the horizon itself seemed caught in its current. It was beautiful in the way only truly horrifying things can be beautiful, a perfect circle, surrounded by an infinite dance of waves. The white foam darkened toward the center, growing greyer and greyer until, just where the water fell off into the abyss, it turned mercilessly black. The sun glanced blindingly off the turbulent waters. The downward drop of the vortex was so drastic it appeared motionless, its power revealed only by the frantic whirl of debris trapped in its current.

  The boat began to spin. Slowly, at first, but with ever-increasing force. Sennar howled with everything in his chest, hoping to expel his terror, but the roar of the raging waters drowned out every other sound. I have to think! He lay flat on the bottom of his lifeboat. If there’s any hope of saving myself, I need a clear head!

  He spun and spun for what seemed like an eternity. Then, after an hour, a year, a lifetime, the boat’s mome
ntum redoubled. Sennar felt the front of the boat tip forward. He lifted his head and saw the mouth of the vortex opening up below him.

  Just then, he raised a force field. The rumble of rushing water ceased. His heartbeat slowed. It was terrifying within the whirlpool, but he knew he could hold the barrier steady for a couple of hours.

  The boat descended rapidly. This is fine. It continued to descend. Everything’s under control. Soon, the sun was nothing but a faint glimmer. Everything was turning blue. He was in the belly of the ocean.

  A moment later, Sennar could feel water around his feet. His heart sank. How could it be? The outer edge of the force field was sealed tight around the body of the boat. And yet, he could hear the gurgle of water. A leak! The boat had a hole in it. Sennar had just enough time to recall Benares’s promise, that night on the beach in the Vaneries: “We aren’t finished yet, sorcerer.” Then the sea overpowered the wooden keel and the hole cracked open like a nutshell.

  Violent waves rushed over Sennar. The blow knocked him out—when he came to his senses, all he saw was his hair, swirling in the water.

  He felt the undeniable impulse to breathe.

  He opened his mouth.

  Water. Salt.

  I’m drowning.

  Water invaded his lungs.

  Salt burned his throat and his nostrils.

  It’s just like I imagined.

  Just before losing his senses, he saw Nihal. Her beauty was radiant. She was smiling. She was free.

  Then he felt himself suffocating and plunged into darkness.

  THE PRISONERS

  Tenth year after the Descent, in the reign of Teoni.

  In the first month of the year, before his people and the dignitaries of the realm, His Majesty spoke of Those Above.

  Given the obstinacy of their attacks on our freedom, I command that whosoever of their people is found in Zalenia, on no matter what business, with no matter what excuse, be imprisoned and killed.

  That Zalenia be ever disjoined from their Unholy Kingdom.

  That the horrors of their war never touch our people.

  That we live in eternal peace and freedom.

  This I command.

  from the New Regulations of Zalenia, rule XXIV

  10

  The Underworld

  The light was dazzling, horrifying. Sennar tried moving, but it was as if he was without a body. He tried speaking, but he felt something choking him.

  He lay there, immobile, his eyes closed, listening to two childish voices. A young boy and an even younger girl, or so it seemed.

  “What is it?”

  “Hello, stupid, can’t you see him? It’s a man.”

  “But … he’s strange!”

  Their accents reminded Sennar of Moni’s, but many of their words were beyond his comprehension.

  “Maybe he comes from Above.”

  “Do you know what the men from Above look like?”

  “No. But he’s not like us.”

  “I’m scared, Cob.” The girl’s voice was trembling. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait. I want to check and see if he’s dead.”

  “No! Don’t touch him. Let’s go and get someone.”

  “Oh, come on, Anfitris! You’re such a little scaredy-cat. What if he’s alive?”

  “Just please, let’s go.”

  This time it was a man who spoke.

  “You did well to come and get me, Cob.”

  “Do you think he comes from Above?”

  “I’m not sure. In any case, he’s in bad shape. He needs help.”

  “But what if he’s from Above … ?”

  “If he’s from Above, we’ll see that he’s treated according to law when the time comes. For now, we can’t just leave him here.”

  Sennar could feel himself being lifted into the air. He opened his eyes again, but all he could make out were two blurred figures.

  “Who are you?” the adult voice asked.

  Sennar tried with all his effort to respond, but no sound came forth.

  “Don’t worry,” he heard someone whisper. Then he lost consciousness.

  He slept for days on end. Whenever he woke, a harsh light crept in under his eyelids. He no longer knew who he was or where he came from.

  Little by little, he regained consciousness. He remembered his name. Then he remembered Nihal.

  He felt sick. His eyes were not used to the light, and some time passed before he was able to distinguish anything at all. He was in a strange, oval-shaped room with a vaulted ceiling. On one side was a pale, wooden chest. The walls were coarse and gold-colored and seemed to be made from wet sand. By his bed was a large, low-set window, this, too, in the shape of an oval.

  A stout woman, of the whitest skin and with brilliant white hair, leaned over Sennar and examined him carefully. “Feeling better?”

  She must have been in her forties, with a wide, well-defined face. There was something frightening about her eyes, they were so pale—the irises blended almost indistinguishably with the white of her corneas, and her pupils stood out, dark and fathomless. She wore a long tunic and a necklace of oddly shaped red stones, similar to twigs.

  Sennar parted his lips as if to speak, but once again nothing came out.

  The woman looked tenderly at him. “Don’t trouble yourself. Just nod for me. Are you feeling better?”

  Sennar nodded.

  “Do you come from Above?” She pointed to the ceiling.

  Sennar replied with a baffled look.

  “Are you from the World Above the Water?”

  Sennar didn’t know how to respond. The people of the Underworld, he knew, weren’t the most trustworthy hosts.

  She must have sensed his doubts. She smiled.

  “You can tell me. As long as you’re in my care, nothing will happen to you.”

  Sennar nodded once more and tried sitting up. When he moved, he realized his hair was gone. He touched his head. Only stubble.

  “I cut it. It was full of knots and other undesirable …” the woman responded. She cut herself off when she saw Sennar begin to fidget.

  My tunic! What happened to my tunic?

  In one of his pockets was a piece of parchment bearing the signatures of all the Council members. The document was protected with an enchantment, so the water would not have damaged it, but if those signatures were lost now the entire journey would have been for naught. When he made to stand, the sheer effort stole his breath.

  “Relax, now. You’re still healing.”

  The sorcerer glanced down imploringly at his chest, then at each arm, trying to make himself understood.

  “Your clothes?”

  Sennar nodded.

  “We’ve set them aside to dry. Don’t worry, we didn’t tamper with anything.”

  The sorcerer let his head fall back on the pillow with a sigh of relief.

  The inhabitants of the Underworld were different than any race of people Sennar had ever seen. Both their hair and skin were of an unnatural, translucent white, and their eyes were almost luminescent. Sennar had never met anyone with paler eyes than his own, a trait he was rather proud of; he loved the way his clear blue irises always spooked everyone out. But these people had him beat.

  For several days, Sennar was a guest in the home of the pale woman and her husband. Observing them walk about the house, he found their presence almost ghoulish.

  The first word he uttered was his name, the second a sincere “thanks” to whomever it was that had saved him.

  “Duty,” the man responded blankly.

  The sorcerer struggled to speak. “I’m a Council member of the Overworld. I’m here to speak with the king of this Land. If you would be so kind as to help me in reaching him …”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “You plan to go traipsing about in Zalenia?”

  “Zalenia?” Sennar echoed.

  “The kingdom where you happen to be right now,” said the man.

  “I’m
on a diplomatic mission. A mission of peace,” the sorcerer explained.

  The man shook his head. “You’re completely mad.”

  It was starting to get old: the whole world was calling him mad.

  “The law prohibits all inhabitants of the Overworld from entering Zalenia,” the woman added. “We’ve kept you hidden only because you were half dead—it wasn’t in our nature to just leave you there. But now …”

  Sennar was beginning to lose patience. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I’m an ambassador …”

  “Listen,” the man interrupted, “whatever mission you’re on is of no value here. The only thing you can do is turn back. And quickly. We’ll show you the way out ourselves. Otherwise, it will mean only trouble for you.”

  “What sort of trouble?” Sennar asked.

  The man hesitated and his wife glanced at him imploringly. “Tell him. He needs to know.”

  “A case like yours has never been dealt with before, but …”

  “But?” Sennar pried.

  “The punishment for anyone arriving from the Overworld is death,” the man said, spitting the words out all at once.

  Sennar had to hold back his laughter. I escaped the storm, dodged the jaws of that repulsive monster, survived drowning, and now that I’m one step away from my goal they’re going to execute me. “Look, I’ll speak with your judge …”

  “I don’t think you heard me right,” the man cut in once again. “Here, anyone from Above is considered a criminal. You could be the king, for all it matters. You’re still an intruder.”

  When they finally understood that there was no dissuading him, Sennar’s hosts gave him a few, cursory directions and demanded that he leave as soon as possible.

  The next morning, the sorcerer pulled on his tunic, donned his Council of Sorcerers medallion, and gathered his few possessions. He checked repeatedly to assure himself that he’d taken everything he needed, the piece of parchment in particular, and stepped through the doorway plagued with fear.