He seemed to understand that these questions were rhetorical. He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug under her scrutiny.
“Kyrosed Vellamo might be insane, but he is also a genius. You are pure, distilled danger. While it is unsafe to have you among us, we still cannot afford to let someone else have you,” Visola said softly. “You’re a master of manipulating the mind. You’re the greatest weapon we’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, good lady. It is not what I really want to do, but I seem to be skilled at doing it.” Vachlan looked at her curiously. “I have spent my life advising kings, but I never have anyone to advise me. It is better to labor at something one loves without ever achieving results, or is it better to pursue that which one can easily achieve success at?”
“I don’t know,” Visola answered quietly. “I was trained to fight, and it was always what I loved to do. I’ve never loved anything else, and I can’t imagine having to choose. Vachlan—forgive me for asking, but may I see your writing?”
“I burned it all in a heated outburst.”
“Oh. Forgive me. I was just curious.”
“I was kidding,” Vachlan said. “My writing is quite personal, Colonel. I thought you said you wanted to keep this professional?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Visola?” Aazuria asked, as she cracked open her friend’s door. “I snuck away. I’m so sorry about last night. I did not know that Papa would be bombing the beach… are you reading?”
Visola was lying on her stomach and furiously flipping through the pages of a play.
“He’s brilliant. His writing is… oh, Zuri, you have to read his writing.”
Aazuria frowned. “You—you are actually reading?”
“This is so real. He writes about the things that he actually experienced, and he twists them all up into the perfect shape. When he writes about global domination, I get chills. He could actually do this.”
“Have you been crying?” Aazuria asked in shock.
“It’s very moving. He seems so lonely.”
Aazuria shook her head sadly as she withdrew from the room. “She is lost.”
Chapter 16: Sheer Power of Rage
“To kill him by having his ship sucked into a maelstrom?” Visola was saying with excitement. “It was so poetic, and so fitting. He caused so much turmoil in the world, and he seemed finally at peace when he knew a greater force would finally be doing the same to him.”
“You understand it!” Vachlan exclaimed. “You actually understand it!”
She smiled at him. The two were sitting cross-legged on her bed and facing each other as they discussed his work. “I need to see this performed,” she told him. “We have an underground amphitheater in the caves of Adlivun. Once we get there, we should have this produced.”
“Do you think King Kyrosed will let me have a break in work to do something like that?”
“He is very fond of the arts; he is as tyrannical about forcing culture on Adlivun as he is about anything else.”
“That’s true. When I met him in Russia, he was parading his daughters before the court and showing off their skills. ‘See my daughter dance! See my daughter sing! See my daughters play instruments!’ The poor girls. He treated them like circus animals.”
“He was trying to find them husbands,” Visola said with a grimace. “Vachlan, have you heard the story of Sedna?”
“No, but I’ve heard the word spoken by your people dozens of times. Is she some kind of god?”
“Yes. I can never hear the story without thinking of Aazuria. Would you like to hear it?”
“Certainly,” Vachlan said.
Visola smiled. “Long ago, an Inuit king lived with his daughter, Sedna, who refused to marry. Eventually, a hunter came and proposed to take Sedna away and give her a life of luxury in a land over the sea. He offered to pay for her with a great quantity of fish. Sedna did not want to marry this man, but her father was greedy to receive the fish. He sold his daughter, giving her a sleeping potion so that the hunter could easily take her.”
“I see that you do not have a very high opinion of King Kyrosed.”
“It’s even lower than you think,” Visola said seriously. “Anyway, the hunter took Sedna to his home, which was a floating island of ice. There, he threw off his human disguise, revealing himself to be an evil raven! Sedna was devastated, but she could not escape. Her life was unpleasant, and she was always hungry and freezing cold. She sent word for her father, crying for him constantly, not knowing that it was he who had sold her. Her father could hear her sorrowful wails on the howling arctic winds, and he felt guilty for what he had done. He decided to load up his kayak, and he paddled for days to the ice kingdom where his daughter was being held captive. When he arrived, Sedna threw her arms around her father, thanking him for coming to her rescue and telling him how the raven had mistreated her. He took her into his kayak, and they set out to sea.”
“These human-bird liaisons seem to be a common theme with you.”
“Hush, and listen,” Visola said with a laugh. “As Sedna and her father were escaping, they saw a black speck in the distance. The raven had discovered that Sedna was missing, and had grown angry. He gathered up his raven friends, and they pursued the boat. They flapped their wings furiously, and whipped up an enormous storm, causing gigantic waves. The kayak that Sedna and her father were on began to sway and lurch around violently. Sedna’s father—splendid man that he was—decided to sacrifice his daughter in an attempt to save himself. He screamed out, ‘Here is your precious wife! Take her, but do not hurt me!’ He grabbed his daughter and tossed her off the side of the boat, into the freezing ocean.”
Vachlan frowned deeply. “Do you really think King Kyrosed would do that to any of his daughters?”
“The story gets even worse,” Visola said, reaching out and touching Vachlan’s hand. “Sedna’s body began freezing, and she swam to the boat, holding onto the edge for dear life, and begging her father to save her. Instead, guess what he did? He grabbed his paddle, and he began to pound her fingers. Her hands were so cold and frozen that the tips of her fingers broke off. She still held on, so he continued clobbering her hands until her fingers broke off at the knuckles. When she cried for mercy, and begged her father to take pity, all that he could think about was saving himself from the great storm. He pummeled the paddle into her hands one final time, cutting off her fingers completely, leaving not even stumps where they used to be. Sedna could no longer grip the boat, and she sank down to the bottom of the sea.”
“By George! What a nasty bloke.”
“The tips of her fingers became whales, and her knuckles became seals. The stumps of her fingers became walruses. Incredibly, Sedna did not drown—no, she was kept alive by the sheer power of her rage. She swore vengeance on her father, and her anger transformed her into the omnipotent goddess of the sea. She loves and protects the beasts born from her fingers. She punishes unkindness with storms and famine, and she rewards kindness with food and warmth.”
“You tell an excellent story, even when sober,” Vachlan told her with a smile. “I must say that I’m worried about whether I made the right decision in choosing to be employed in Adlivun if that is the kind of person to which you compare your leader.”
“I think you should go,” Visola told him, handing him the manuscript of his play. She bit her lip. “Go back to England and be a writer, Vachlan. You are so good at it, and surely if you keep trying, people will notice your work. What is there for you in our frigid ice palace?”
“There are endless new things to learn and discover,” he answered. “Not to mention a gorgeous firebird…”
Before Visola could blush, the door to her bedroom flew open.
“I thought I would find you here. I need you both,” Kyrosed said with a frown. “I have a predicament; we have run out of boats to transport the Yawkyawk.”
“Let those ones stay and multiply. Let them grow in numbers again, and when you feel like a second
helping, we can always come back for more.”
“Brilliant. It’s like farming human beings. I have to congratulate you on excellent work, Vachlan. This is exceptional; no one knows quite how to control and intimidate people like you do.” King Kyrosed slapped the other man on the back companionably.
“It’s what I do. Besides—when people are innocent it is easier to take advantage of them. They will be obedient subjects; and grateful too, I imagine.”
“Yes, they actually think that we’re saving them. They think that we are heroes. The only person displeased about this is my daughter. I’m going to give the command for the ships to sail, and go and try to appease her.”
When Kyrosed left Vachlan’s side to signal the ships, the people left on land, and those in the small boats around the ship began to scream to be taken on board. Their voices could not be understood, but their sign language was desperate. Visola approached Vachlan and stood beside him, as they looked out at the people they were leaving behind.
“Does it feel like a victory to you?” she asked him.
“It doesn’t matter much to me.” He shrugged. “I’m heartless. I just do what needs to be done.”
Visola frowned at him, and was about to respond when they were both distracted by a woman’s scream. They could not understand her, but there was a particularly desperate tone in her voice. She was standing in a small boat, and holding up a young child.
“Please,” signed the man beside her, who was probably her husband, “please take our daughter! She is too young to be eaten by the bunyip. Please save our little girl.”
“Christ,” Vachlan muttered. He began leaning over to take the child, but Visola grabbed his arm.
“No! What are you doing?” she asked him. “Leave the girl with her family.”
“Reality doesn’t matter, Colonel Ramaris. What matters is what people believe. They believe that her life will be better with us, so let us give them that happiness.” Saying this, Vachlan reached down and took the small child from her mother.
“So who will take care of her now?” Visola asked angrily as she stared at the scared toddler in Vachlan’s arms.
“I’m sure there are plenty of women in Adlivun who have lots of motherly instinct to spare. We’ll just give her to a good family.”
“She had a good family!” Visola said, gesturing to the couple in the boat who were crying, and obviously very distressed. “What about her father?”
“Children don’t really need fathers,” Vachlan said with a shrug. “I never had one. Trust me, everything will be fine.”
“My father is everything to me,” Visola said in heated protest. “He taught me how to fight; he spent hundreds of years training me privately. He taught me everything he could. I wouldn’t be worth anything if I didn’t have that support. You’re denying that little girl something more valuable than gold, Vachlan. Something priceless that can never be replaced.”
“I’m sorry, Visola. I don’t want you to be upset. Forgive me.” It was the first time he had called her by her first name. He gently rocked the toddler in his arms. “I will make it up to you. I will make sure the girl has an amazing life in Adlivun. She’ll learn and do more than she ever could here in New Holland.”
Visola turned away from him, and placed her hands on the railing of the ship. She stared out at the people who had just lost their child, and the dozens of other people who were being left behind while hundreds of their family members and friends had embarked on Adlivun’s fleet. Vachlan had brought two ships with him as well, and these were also filled. As the ships pulled away from the harbor, she stared back at the people sadly, realizing that Kyrosed had ripped this realm apart. Could he have done it without Vachlan, the Destroyer of Kingdoms? Now that he had them, what would he do with the people? Would he use them as slaves? Would he treat them as regular citizens? Would they improve life in Adlivun? Life had been comfortable to begin with.
The people were smaller now, and she could just barely make out that they were still waving their arms to the family members they would never see again. She felt sick. The wind tossed her red tresses against her face, and she brushed them away with annoyance. Behind her, she heard Vachlan talking to the little girl, and trying to soothe her tears.
“Don’t cry, child. I promise that things will be alright. What’s your name?” Vachlan had placed the toddler on the floor, and was speaking in sign language as he also spoke in English. The little girl did not respond, and continued to bawl. Vachlan sighed, asking her again in sign language. “What is your name?”
When her tears finally calmed, she answered between her sniffles. “Namaka.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Vachlan responded.
Visola’s head snapped around. “Namaka?” she asked, feeling a chill run through her. She suddenly remembered an ache in her head, and the sight of prison bars. It was so vivid that it replaced the bright sunlight on the ship for a moment. She approached the little girl, and stared at her features. Dark skin, and dark eyes. Chubby little arms, and thick black hair.
“Lieutenant Namaka,” she repeated, staring at the toddler as everything clicked into place. “You’re his infiltrator. You’re the mole. You’re the one who betrayed all of us! You’re the one who got Corallyn killed, and Sionna captured!”
If she could get rid of the child now, would it change the future? If she could grab little Namaka and toss her off the side of the boat, letting her swim back to her parents, would that fix things? Would a little cruelty to a toddler in the eighteenth century fix a major mess in the twenty-first? Visola crouched to her knees and reached out to grab the little girl, but her hands passed directly through her. Visola herself was no longer solid—her arms were becoming transparent.
“Throw her overboard, Vachlan! Throw her back to her parents!” Visola yelled. No one around her showed any indication of hearing what she had said. Instead, they continued talking to each other and completely ignored her. Vachlan was chatting with little Namaka, who had stopped crying to stare up at him curiously.
“Loyal to him, are you?” Visola shouted at the child. She reached out to grab Namaka by the neck, but her hands were just ghostly wisps of air. “All this time you were in our home, under our noses? Some kind of sleeper agent? I swear to Sedna I won’t let this slide! Do you understand what you’ve done, Namaka? And I gave you my bracelet! I put you in charge of Zuri! If you hurt her, I will come for you. I will find a way to come for you…”
Visola’s body was disappearing, and her voice was fading. Although she tried to scream louder at the girl, it was useless. No one could hear her. She could no longer speak, and she could no longer feel her body. An extremely bright light began to surround her. Was she dying? Was all of this some kind of pre-death delusion?
As she looked at the fading vision of Vachlan chatting with Namaka, she felt a wave of nostalgia. She wished she could just return to her fantasy, and continue to experience the months and years of getting to know Vachlan. It had been so nice before everything had fallen apart.
Please let me stay here, she mentally begged the blinding white cosmos, hoping it could hear her thoughts. Please let me stay in 1797. I’ll do anything. Yet she kept moving through time, or space, or possibly both, away from the moment on the boat. It seemed that she was destined to be elsewhere.
What was the point of remembering and reliving this small, but pivotal event if she could do nothing about it? How could she die before she had gotten the chance to tell Aazuria who the traitor was, and to punish Namaka for her duplicity? As the white light consumed her, she thought of Sedna.
She wished that she too could stay alive against all odds by the sheer power of her rage.
Chapter 17: Goodbye, Terrestrial Dwelling
“Yes, it was a horrible accident,” Trevain said into the phone. He had returned to his house to sort out his affairs. “I haven’t received the settlement yet, but I’m definitely going to need a new boat.”
His fingers toyed with
the Ramaris family ring, which Aazuria had returned to him the last time she had been on land. She had been upset, but still too classy to throw it at him. It was this ring that had helped her to discover his heritage. He would return it to her before their wedding ceremony.
“No, I need something bigger,” he told the person on the phone. He waited for a moment. “Yes, I realize what it’s going to cost. What do you have?” He waited for the response and then shook his head, as though the person on the other line could see this. “No—a lot bigger. I’m thinking battleship-bigger. Even an old discontinued model, or something of the sort.”
Trevain smiled when he heard the surprised protest on the other end. “Yes, of course, for fishing. I’ll have the necessary modifications made.” He waited before delivering his final, very convincing argument. “I lost my whole crew. Those lives can’t be replaced. I’m willing to pay a few extra bucks for safety. Do you know how big the ocean is? Exactly. Get me the biggest sturdy old battleship you can find.” He returned the phone to the wall.
He tucked Aazuria’s ring into his pocket, and began moving through the house. Eventually, he found himself standing in the doorway of the room that had been Corallyn’s, and he scanned it with his eyes. It was too soon for Trevain to gather her belongings. He could not deal with the loss yet. Her bed was still a mess. Her diary was lying on the night table at an angle, partly off the table, as though it had only just been cast aside. Her laptop was on her desk, and the light was blinking to indicate that it was still on, just sleeping. He considered collecting her things, and bringing them to Aazuria, but he could not even force himself to take a step forward into the room. He would try again at a later point in the future. He shut the door, and moved down the hallway to where Mr. Fiskel was gathering clothing and personal belongings from Callder’s room.
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