Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  “How close can you get?” the captain inquired.

  “A hundred yards…probably,” she answered.

  The older fey huffed before laying a hand on the young woman’s head paternally. “Sheesh, kid, give the rest of us a little credit. A little swim won’t kill them.”

  “I know that,” Grace replied, annoyed, shaking the hand off her head. “But the Entregon—” she inclined her head toward the monitor “—she will know the moment they touch the water.”

  Barclay rolled his eyes. “Tell me, Gracie, can you feel Serin or Leslie from here?”

  “Yes,” she answered back quizzically.

  “Then what makes you think the Entregon hasn’t already felt the same?” Barclay suppressed a chuckle as he watched the young woman’s face heat up. Without further prodding, he jammed the battery back in the cell phone and powered it on. In a few seconds, the phone was ready to go and he punched the redial button.

  A voice jumped from the other end before the first ring finished. “We see you,” Charles declared. His voice was airy, almost whimsical with relief.

  “Good,” Barclay replied. “We’re still a couple minutes out. I need you to get those people into the water.”

  “Why? Not all of them are in great condition,” Charles explained.

  “Land sakes, it’s not for fun! You’re sitting on a giant sand bar and we can only get within a hundred yards without beaching,” the older fey barked into the phone. “Try to find something that floats for anyone who can’t swim, and I’ll pick ’em up myself.”

  “I got it,” Charles began, seemingly chastised. “Tell Grace to slow down before she gets too close. She’s kicking up a tsunami in her wake.”

  The old fey quirked an eyebrow at Grace, making sure she was listening in. She nodded vigorously in response. “Consider it done,” he spoke into the phone. “Get as many of them as far out as you can, and I’ll take care of the rest. I shouldn’t need to tell you, but time isn’t on our side.”

  “You’re right, you don’t,” Charles replied before Barclay heard the click of the call ending.

  Motioning to the stairs with one thumb, Barclay addressed the young ship, “I’m heading to the bow. I want you to start slowing down a quarter mile from the edge of that bar. Ease down and try to break the wake on the way in. Point yourself straight away from the Entregon and sidle up as close as you can get. The moment I get everybody aboard, I want you to take off as fast as you’re able.” He paused, letting Grace catch up before adding, “Can you do all that?”

  Grace nodded sharply. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  Barclay wasted no time leaping down the steps to the lower bridge and opening the front door to the bow. He moved to the rail and grabbed tight. The smell of the water was strong, in no small part due to the enormous spray created by Grace ramming her way through the water. He looked back and couldn’t help but be impressed at the power on display. Driving a 150-foot-plus ship at what must be over sixty miles per hour was the kind of magic he could only dream of possessing. Then again, he looked toward the west as the sun was sitting just above the horizon. It was too far out for him to feel, but the Entregon, a ship that would dwarf young Grace, was bearing down on them at that very moment.

  He shook the thought of impending doom from his mind. He couldn’t entertain any thoughts but getting the converts aboard. Mentally, he prepared himself, releasing the restraints on his own magic. Unlike the pissing contest with Talmer, this release wasn’t just a show. Barclay’s appearance began to take on a blue hue. The skin between his fingers began to stretch and spread out, not stopping until it reach his fingertips. He kicked off his boots and his toes began to stretch out nearly to the length of his fingers. As his feet webbed over like his hands, his heels began to recede, allowing his legs to form a nearly perfect straight line once extended.

  Grace began to slow. The longer he waited, the slower she continued. As the ship’s speed halved, then halved again, Barclay crouched low while still holding the top rail. The ship’s speed halved a third time, and Barclay suddenly pulled hard on the railing, launching himself forward over the water. So great was his leap that he sailed through the air over thirty yards before plunging into the blue waters with little more than a blip to the surface.

  The moment he was underwater, his senses were assaulted. Like Grace, this was his natural element, and his awareness spread several times over. He could feel Serin, Leslie, and most of the converts ahead. They were close to the drop-off already, and he was sure Grace would catch up to them shortly. He focused past them to the shore. His senses dulled considerably outside the water, but he could make out a handful of converts at the edge. He kicked hard and fast, covering the space to shore in moments. Jumping out of the water like a dolphin, he somersaulted in the air before landing gracefully in front of the convert group.

  ◆◆◆

  The group seemed shocked at his blue appearance, but wisely said nothing. Charles had borrowed an inflatable raft from a nearby lifeguard station and loaded the injured inside. He had just started pushing them into the water when Barclay arrived in his full fey glory.

  “About time,” Charles addressed the fishman.

  “Just in time is still in time,” Barclay replied smugly. With one hand, he grabbed the front of the raft and yanked it into the water. He took two steps in and prepared to start pushing, but stopped when he noticed Charles hadn’t moved. “You coming?” he tossed over his shoulder.

  Charles hesitated. When he had rushed out of the city, it was to help the others when he knew they were in trouble. At the same time, he realized he was the primary source of that trouble. Barclay was here now, and he knew everyone would get to Grace. Maybe he could buy them some time, give the Union one last good chase. Memories of green eyes held him, and he forced himself to ask, “Is that really the wisest thing to do?”

  He knew Barclay understood, that maybe he was the only one who would in that situation, just what was being asked. Barclay sighed, flexing one webbed hand in annoyance. “Gracie will be upset if you don’t.” He turned and smiled at the broken man on the beach. “I think the rest of us have taken a bit of a shine to you, as well.”

  “That’s not really what I was asking,” Charles replied. Yes, Grace had already told him to keep safe, and he was sure she would react poorly if he left now—even if it was to help them escape. And he had to admit Leslie had grown on him a bit. But that was all the more reason to get as far away as possible.

  “Isn’t it?” Barclay retorted. “Wise is doing what’s right. If half of what I think I know is true, you’ve had a pretty shit life since the war ended. You’ve been doing nothing but run—”

  “I made a promise!” Charles suddenly shouted, shocked at his own outburst. More softly, he added, “I haven’t been running, I’ve been surviving.”

  “Surviving for what, though? You said yourself you can’t tell people the truth, and you don’t have the strength to take the fight to your enemies.” Barclay fixed the younger man with a stare. “Surviving just to survive isn’t surviving at all.” He flicked his webbed hand toward the town up the hill. “If you really think holing up in one nameless town or another, cutting yourself off from everybody you meet, is keeping any promise, then go on and leave. But—” he struck up a finger for emphasis “—if you want do more than just survive, if you want to fight for something worth fighting for, you should come with us.”

  Charles watched Barclay push the raft farther out into the water, getting some clearance before he could use those flipper-like feet. He had promised Alastair he would survive. And for the last forty years he had done just that. But—and the admission cut him deeply—he had also promised to make things right. And that part had always taken a back seat, until today, until he met these fey who truly needed his help.

  Staring across the water, he saw Grace dropping a dozen rope ladders down her sides, saw Leslie and Serin pushing their family from the water and up the ship. Leslie and Serin had already pr
oved they would die before giving up on their family. And Grace, who had just as much to lose as the rest, would never give up on a friend. Hell, the only reason they had this chance to escape is because Grace had been too concerned about them to get far away. Watching those three women giving everything in their power for others put his own life in perspective.

  Even if he turned around and took the fight to those coming as long as he could, death was just another form of running away. The Union would keep coming, and he would have abandoned these people to their own devices. Grace would never forgive him. Leslie would be forced to wonder if all the things he’d said to her were just a con. He couldn’t stand the thought that he would be letting them down.

  Sloshing through the shallow water, Charles called to the fishman, “Wait up, old man.”

  Barclay slowed, allowing Charles to reach the raft before replying in a curt tone, “Last I checked, you’ve been around since before the war yourself. Who are you calling old?”

  Charles pulled himself over the edge of the raft, careful to avoid disturbing any of the injured already inside. “Look at yourself, Captain. You’re a Xiphe, and your people only procreate once a century.” He smirked at the disbelief on the fishman’s face. “Seeing as the last brood was just twenty-five years ago, it’s not hard to guess you’ve got at least a few decades on me.”

  Barclay would have flushed if his blue skin could show it, but he settled for grumbling out, “Smartass,” before dunking his head underwater and propelling the raft forward. Charles watched as he accelerated slowly, giving the passengers time to brace themselves. Picking up speed, he managed to cover the distance to Grace in less than a minute, and swam around to position himself between Grace and the raft. He called to the waves once again and the water swelled below, lifting the raft and himself up and over the side railing and pouring them all onto the deck. Every convert within ten feet of the drop found themselves soaked once again despite the towels Grace had handed out.

  “All right,” Barclay yelled, “Everybody hold on to something!” He waited just a few seconds as the soaking mass of people moved to grasp the railing, seemingly perplexed by his booming command. The moment he felt the others had a solid hold, he caught Grace’s eyes and nodded, “Get us out of here.”

  Grace turned toward the bow and her eyes glowed for a moment. The entire ship lurched forward, picking up speed quickly. Several of the wet converts actually lost their grip, forced to catch their fellow passengers else they roll down the deck. The pull of acceleration lessened quickly, thankfully, and the soaked converts chilled as they suddenly felt themselves in a wind tunnel. Everyone was forced away from the railing to escape the whipping winds, sheltered slightly by the bridge breaking the air ahead. Grace encouraged them inside with promises of dry clothes and warm beds.

  As the family marched inside, Charles watched Barclay began reapplying the restrictions on his magic. The webbing on his hands and feet receded, and the blue of his skin faded back to human hues. From the look in his eyes, Charles guessed Barclay hadn’t used that form in a long time, and he had forgotten just how addicting the sea could be when he could feel it in his every pore. Even as the transformation fully subsided, Barclay couldn’t help but remain on deck breathing in the spray from Grace’s movement.

  Charles approached the captain from the side, noting the shiver of pleasure in the older fey’s shoulders when a group of large droplets splashed across his face. He recognized that feeling, remembered staring up at the moon as a younger man, back when he was still whole, and drinking in the light like the finest wine. Now, though the moon still called him in sweet tones, it also threatened to destroy him. He caught sight of the sun descending to the horizon and coughed to get the captain’s attention. “I’m heading inside. What’s the plan from here?”

  For a moment, a deep longing flashed across Barclay’s face. He gathered himself quickly and glanced at Charles, nodding once in appreciation when he saw no judgment. “This was the plan so far. Why don’t you grab the others and meet up upstairs.” He tilted his head toward the upper bridge for clarification then closed his eyes. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Sure,” Charles agreed, glad to get away, glad to avoid more memories of better times. He strode to the door to the lower bridge, smiling as he came upon Grace still shooing everyone inside. She smiled at everyone as they milled around until the line downstairs thinned, following one another to their cabins. He couldn’t help noticing the way her hair seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun, a silly smile decorating his own features. He tapped her shoulder lightly. “Permission to come aboard?”

  Grace’s mouth dropped open seeing Charles again. He figured that in the rush to bring everyone aboard, she hadn’t taken the time to scan for his unusually muffled signature. Now, seeing him there, she seemed overwhelmed with joy and relief. She launched herself at the unsuspecting man, wrapping her arms around him fiercely and forcing him to take a half step back to stay upright. “You came back!”

  Charles gave a halfhearted, one-arm hug in return, patting her shoulder lightly. “Well, as a wise woman once told me, we are stronger together.” Beautiful as this form was already, Grace caused his breath to catch in his throat when she lit up with recognition. Her teeth sparkled and her eyes seemed to draw him in with a power he was already learning to fear.

  “I wasn’t sure you would,” Grace admitted, breaking from the hug. “But I’m glad you did.”

  “The captain helped,” he confessed. Losing himself briefly in those green eyes, he added, “But I’m glad I did, too.”

  The ship in human form grasped Charles and pulled him toward the door ahead. The smile never left her face. “Come inside. You must be tired and…cold perhaps? I made a room for you, um, just in case.”

  Charles was led into the lower bridge, enjoying the feeling a little too much. When he caught Serin and Leslie waiting inside with mirrored curiosity in their eyes, he remembered the captain’s order. He stopped, gently halting Grace, as well. “Grace, I would love to see it, but the captain wanted me to gather the fey upstairs.” When he saw the knowing smirk in Serin’s face, he addressed the woman holding his hand again. “Do you know where Talmer is?.”

  Grace nodded apologetically. “Of course. You can see it later. I will get Talmer.” As she walked down the stairwell to the cabins below, she added excitedly, “I really think you’ll like it.”

  Charles addressed the two women remaining while pointing to the staircase on his left. “Well?”

  Serin pointedly ignored the man in the room, leaning toward her bond. “Leslie, don’t you think Grace is quite pretty?”

  Leslie eyed the shorter woman suspiciously before noticing the smirk plastered on her partner’s face. She flicked her eyes to Charles in realization, a smile spreading over her cheeks. “Very pretty. In fact, were we not bonded, I might be tempted to woo her myself.”

  “Oh, yes, she is so lovely. Were we not bonded, I am sure I would fight you for her,” Serin agreed, eyes locked on Charles. “I wonder, which of us do you think she would fancy more?”

  “It’s hard to say, love. She might not fancy either of us. Who’s to say she doesn’t find the scruffy, unkempt look just so alluring.” Leslie couldn’t help but giggle as she avoided Charles’s rising annoyance.

  “You think you’re funny,” Charles huffed. He tried to ignore the laughter from both women as he walked to the staircase and ascended with stomping haste.

  The upper bridge was not a place for lounging about, sporting no chairs and several dashboards filled with buttons and knobs Charles couldn’t make heads or tails of. He vaguely noted the compass heading and radar monitor—two items he at least recognized. When he heard shuffling from below, he made his way to the far end of the bridge, leaned on the ledge in front of the windows, and stared forward. He was determined to ignore any further teasing.

  Despite the one-person width of the staircase, Serin and Leslie continued holding hands all the way up. Th
e ladies had managed to stifle their amusement for a time, and Serin’s eyes took on an apologetic sadness. “I don’t think we took the time to say it before, but thank you, Charles.”

  The man near the windows relaxed his shoulders, clearly expecting different words. He remained facing the windows, but watched the reflections of the bonded women behind him. “Don’t worry about it.” He added quickly, “I’m just glad everyone made it.”

  Serin frowned at the cheap dismissal. She hoped he wasn’t still put off by her teasing. “I mean it. You had your own life to worry about, but you came to help us anyway. Please accept my thanks.”

  “I do. You’re welcome, okay?” Charles remained motionless, trying to end the conversation.

  “I have wondered, though,” Leslie chimed in, “how you were able to catch up? I figured you would be heading the opposite direction.”

  Charles leaned his head back, taking a deep breath. “I was asking around town, and got tipped off the Union was making its move early. I was just lucky.”

  “You were asking around for our benefit?” Serin inquired.

  “Well, my own, too,” Charles admitted. He suddenly hunched forward defensively. “It’s no big deal.”

  Leslie furrowed her brows in suspicion. “Why do you make it sound like a big deal, then?”

  “Look, I just…” Charles trailed off. He knew if he told them the truth, they’d use it against him. But they also seemed suspicious enough to badger it out of him. “You don’t really need to thank me. I had already promised someone to keep you safe.”

  “Someone?” Serin’s eyebrows rose sharply, and a lopsided smile rose over her cheeks. She tapped her chin in mock contemplation, adding, “I doubt Talmer would have cared about us, and the captain would have ordered you if he thought it was needed.” She locked eyes with Charles reflection in the window. “Who does that leave, my love?”

  “Oh my,” Leslie exclaimed softly, truly shocked that their teasing may have been hitting something true. “Just how long has this been going on?” she asked.