Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  Now, he just needed to give her the extra push to accept him as a viable partner. His fingers flexed and drew designs in the air as her remembered the words of his father: Love is the folly of every good fey. Talmer wished his father could be here now to eat those words. He knew what his father was too proud to admit, that a contract bound by love was far more unbreakable than one signed in ink. That’s why he’d spent months in the library during his school days learning everything he could about spells of attraction, lust, and love. It’s why he aced every lesson with a female instructor from then on, to his father’s great surprise.

  Once the converts and the giantess left the dining room, he would steal his way back into the kitchen. He would enchant Grace’s heart with the most elegant and powerful spells he knew. She would clear herself of the fog of unnecessary devotion to the rest of the crew and find she only had love for him. Then he would be the captain, he would make the decisions, and together they would jettison those fey holding them back from a brighter future.

  ◆◆◆

  “Wow!” Charles exclaimed.

  “What do you think?” Grace asked tentatively.

  Charles stared at the far wall of the engine room. Just a little while earlier it had been a simple gray, colored for utility rather than decoration. Now, a massive ten-foot-wide mural on what appeared to be canvas hung in the center. Charles was no art critic, but he wasn’t so uncultured that he couldn’t appreciate the skill and imagination it must have taken to create this piece. The acrylic paint gave a depth to the figures and scene while the colors seemed to step out of his own memory. “Wow,” he repeated, unable still to come up with the words for a proper response.

  “I…I know you are still a bit reluctant to share your story, so I thought I would put it here, at least for now.” Grace kept her face toward the floor, rubbing her hands together in embarrassment. Sighing to herself, he admitted, “I just thought maybe it could help you see yourself the way everyone else did…does.”

  The mural depicted the final battle of the Union’s war. The full moon dominated the sky on the left, and under it spread a hundred or more Union soldiers, raising their arms and weapons in the air triumphantly. At the edge of the army, a vast city spread across the bottom. It was in ruins, buildings broken and crumbling, seemingly held together by a stone wall wrapping around like a belt. To the right, amid the rubble, were the loyalists—on their knees and crying out to the heavens.

  In the center, above the ruined city and apart from the warring tribes, were two prominent figures locked in combat and surrounded by light that nearly matched the moon. On the left, the hero of the Union—the Glorious General—held the Ancient beast at bay and cocked his right fist back. He appeared ready to strike a killing blow based on the righteous fury in his eyes. And the beast, snarling still through pointed fangs, clung to the arm at its neck with four clawed hands. Its entire body was covered in green mosslike fur.

  “How did you do this?” Charles asked, still in awe.

  “Well, news of the war wasn’t limited to Union territories. Everyone in the world knows of the great battle at Karik.” She finally looked from the floor to her masterpiece. “Of course, I changed a bit from the story now that I know what the Union’s unstoppable weapon really was. I tried to…um… Do you like it?”

  Charles reached up with his hand to the picture of himself. He held his palm just off the canvas, almost afraid to touch. He traced his own figure, remembering the pain, the fury, and the godlike power. He glanced sideways, taking in the form of the Ancient One that had nearly ended him. There were similarities, but he found himself relieved not to see the actual face of his enemy. He closed his eyes, breathing out, “It’s amazing.”

  A smile burst from Grace as she replied, “Oh, thank you!”

  The dark eyes of the beast stared angrily at the man who had surpassed its greatness. Despite the different form, those eyes were just as he remembered. No pupils, seemingly no life at all. They pulled fear from your core and consumed the light of any hope. A shudder racked him and he turned away from the beast. “Have you ever met one of them?” he asked the air.

  Grace looked up at his hand hovering over the Ancient One, realization dawning. “Yes,” she answered firmly.

  Charles’s head whipped around, staring into her eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. Accepting the sincerity in her eyes, his shoulders slumped and he dropped his gaze. “When?”

  “Just a few days after I was born, actually,” Grace replied. “My mother was born far to the south, in the Antarctic. The ocean there is ruled by an Ancient One who had great interest in my family line. Going back thousands of years, my family served as its vassals, much as the nobles did before the war.” Her eyes took on a faraway look and he imagined memories were flittering through her mind. “When I was born, my mother brought me before the Ancient One for its blessing. I remember it was so bright, it took several minutes before my eyes adjusted enough to make out its actual appearance.” She inclined her head toward the mural. “I know this isn’t what you actually fought. It’s what I thought the Ancient I met would look like had it been a land-dweller.”

  “You weren’t far off,” Charles admitted. He looked to the beast in the mural quickly before turning to Grace. “The Ancient was more animal than fey. It must have been twenty feet tall, though never stood straight up. It had these massively thick back legs, but they were short, like a gorilla, and it held up its torso with a lower set of arms. It was covered with thick, golden fur that curled at the tips. The face was very much like you have here—same eyes, for sure. It had these two giant feelers, or whiskers, or something that looked like a mustache on one of those Chinese dragons. It could conduct lightning with them, which hurt like hell.”

  Grace bit her lower lip and stared at the beast in her mural. As Charles spoke, it seemed to open a window in her mind and it was as though she could see the Ancient with her own eyes. As Charles watched, amazed, she let her magic flow to the mural and the paint warped and changed color to match her new vision. In an instant, the beast in the mural became larger. Instead of mossy skin, golden fur grew out like a flame, curling at the tip. Two tentacle-like vines erupted from the beast’s snout, reaching out and wrapping around the throat of the hero as sparks popped around. She surveyed the change briefly before addressing the man at her side. “So, more like this?”

  Charles took a step back. The beast had become exactly as he described it. The creature that still haunted him in his nightmares had been made real again. He took shallow breaths to calm the fear buried in his memories before replying, “Yeah, just like that.” He eyed Grace’s content smile, her eyes still locked on the mural. “You can’t, uh, read minds or anything, can you?”

  Grace stared at the man to her side, a quizzical expression covering her eyes. She glanced back to the mural briefly before a mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe. A lady never reveals all her secrets.”

  Blood rushed to Charles’s cheeks, and his mouth hung open in shock. He couldn’t find the words to explain, struggling just to speak. “I… If you… It’s not that I… It wasn’t like that…”

  Grace giggled, shutting the flustered man up immediately. She patted Charles’s hand, which had unconsciously clenched. “I’m just kidding.” Her giggles turned to full laughs as Charles remained shocked and still.

  The fear in his gut subsided, but was quickly replaced by hot shame. This did nothing to improve his newly red complexion. “Very funny,” he ground out.

  Grace threw her head back with a final laughing fit before skipping away. She positioned herself so she could still see the man who remained by the mural before plopping down and leaning against the engine. As seconds passed and Charles remained behind, she finally called, “Don’t be sore, come sit.”

  The man seemed to ignore her call, though he heard perfectly well. Charles didn’t want to turn around until he could stop the blushing. Being asked here to talk alone, plus seeing the mura
l she’d created for him, had put him in a rather emotional state. Her teasing had pushed him over the edge. As he tried to think of safe thoughts, he realized just how long it had been since anything had gotten under his skin like this. A good deed here or there, he realized, had been nothing but a balm on his conscience. He’d never let himself really get close enough to anyone to care, close enough to be hurt. The captain’s words filtered through his thoughts. The old man had been more right than Charles wanted to admit.

  He heard Grace try to muffle her giggles. Even knowing they were at his expense, he couldn’t get enough of that sound. She’d gotten him good, but it was just in fun. There was nothing to stay embarrassed over. Finally, he turned around and crossed the engine room to Grace. He towered over her, standing above her petite form on the floor, yet her presence seemed to fill the entire room. He dropped to the ground opposite her, mimicking the position they had found so comfortable before. “I may need some ointment for that burn.”

  “Burn?” Grace inquired, suddenly scanning the man for injury.

  “Oh right,” Charles responded apologetically. “Just some human lingo I picked up. You got me pretty good there is what I mean.”

  Grace smiled. “Yes, you needn’t be so serious.”

  Charles leaned his head against the engine behind, adding, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  “I mean, really, even if I could read your mind, what would be so important to keep secret now?” she asked with a laugh. “You already told me your deepest, darkest secret.”

  The hand was rubbing the back of his neck before he knew what happened. This time, he didn’t bother to pull away. “Yeah, of course,” Charles answered nervously.

  Eyes narrowed at the lack of confidence in that response. She seemed to consider the man before her. “Wait, is there something else?”

  “Ah, no…” he offered, uncomfortable with the faint lie. “Well, maybe, but it’s not important.”

  “If it’s not important,” she asked quizzically, “then why were you so upset?”

  “It’s not unimportant,” Charles admitted. “Look, it’s just…now isn’t a good time to talk about it...or even consider it.”

  Grace tapped her finger against her lips. He could tell she was still a little reluctant to raise her voice, but was glad when she spoke up. “Isn’t now the best time?” she asked rhetorically. Catching the eye of her companion, she continued. “We woke a veritable terror of the deep, and there’s only a coin-flip chance that we fair better than our pursuers. If something is important, we should say it now, before we lose the chance to say it ever again.”

  Charles lifted his eyes from her gaze, tracing patterns on the ceiling as he thought. Indeed, it was precisely that reality that made it so hard to decide what to do. He wanted to enjoy this, with Grace, as long as possible. That was selfish, but it was the truth. He had seen how uncomfortable she was around Talmer’s seductive tactics, and couldn’t stand to spend the last day of his life in her doghouse. Without looking down, he asked suddenly, “Where would you go?”

  Grace furrowed her brows in confusion, opening and closing her mouth as she digested the sudden change in topic. Finally, she settled on asking, “What do you mean?”

  “If this happens to work, and we actually get away—if we find a safe place for the Serin, Leslie, and their posse. If you have the whole wide ocean open to you again, where would you go?” Charles clarified.

  “I don’t rightly know,” Grace answered. Hours before she had been asked the same question by Talmer, and yet she still didn’t have a response. “I’d like to help people. It just feels right.” She thought of her earlier conversation. “Talmer proposed that I should start a shipping business and that we could be partners.”

  A wrenching feeling overtook Charles’s gut. “Shipping does make a lot of sense, and Talmer seems like he’d be good at the business side of things. So you’d go with him?”

  “I don’t know, it was just his idea,” she replied quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “Obviously shipping would be a natural fit, but the way he talked about it…” She shrugged. “It seemed so dispassionate. Wealth and power don’t mean anything if those around you are suffering.” The words hung in the air before she continued. “What will you do? Go back to what you were doing before?”

  “No. I’m done with the running and hiding.” Charles took a deep breath before explaining. “After these past few days, I am beginning to open up to the idea that there could still be a use for me. Whatever time I have left I’d like to spend making a difference, no matter how small.”

  “Quite a difference a day makes.” Grace laughed lightly and her eyes crinkled with a smile. Her smile slowly turned into a smirk, and her eyes drifted to the mural on the wall. “I knew you were a good person, even if you wanted to deny it.”

  Charles cringed at how he had treated Grace and the others. “Yeah, I don’t know if an apology really covers a lot of that. I was so angry at myself that I wasn’t really fair to anyone, especially you. Maybe, in time, I can make it up.” His eyes met hers and held the gaze longer than he should have. “But if you and Talmer are planning a future together then I—”

  “Oh!” Grace exclaimed, interrupting his question. “No, we are just friends.” She pondered the depth of the question, continuing, “I know how he acts, but I think it’s just part of who he is. As I understand it, he acted the same way with Serin and Leslie when they first met. I’m not sure he’s really interested in that way.”

  “Ah,” Charles offered, unable to form a more precise response. “I’m not so sure,” he added. “Would you, uh, be interested if he really did feel that way about you?”

  Grace smiled sadly. “I don’t think he’s right for me.” She held her hands up, flexing her fingers as she looked for the right words. “He wants to be a good man, better than the world he was forced to grow up in. I respect him for that, but we are just so different.” She clasped her hands, staring at her interlaced fingers. “He wants to defeat his demons on their terms, never really letting go of the past. I want to be my own person, defeat my demons on my terms. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” Charles whispered. He found his gaze stuck on his own hands, clenching and unclenching as they rested on his legs. In seconds, Grace had torn apart his entire life in the decades since the war. He’d been stuck neck-deep in the past this whole time. For years, he’d lived for a promise to Alastair that he never believed he’d be able to fulfill. He’d run and hidden and sometimes fought, but always on the Union’s terms. He’d never truly tried to make the difference he’d promised, because the Union told him he couldn’t. Even as a criminal, he’d been their patsy—a scapegoat for every mistake they made and too scared to step up and make things hard for them.

  He realized instantly that he couldn’t tell her the truth, not yet. He’d been no better than Talmer for most of his lifetime and, in her way, she’d already said that wasn’t good enough. His eyes went wide when he discovered the fire of righteousness still had embers in his heart. He’d find a way to be worthy of Serin and Leslie’s confidence, of the captain’s respect, and maybe even Grace’s love. He wouldn’t sit back and let the Union pervert the sacrifice of every man and woman that gave their lives for freedom.

  Charles didn’t realize how long the silence went on then until Grace started fidgeting. Unable to contain the he could see curiosity, she requested suddenly, “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Charles pierced Grace with his sudden optimism. “Thank you,” he offered, grinning madly.

  “Um, for what?” she asked tentatively.

  “For giving me back myself,” he answered cryptically. Suddenly, he launched himself to his knees, the momentum carrying his face dangerously close to Grace’s. “Now,” he added, “prepare to be glommed.”

  “What—” Grace could barely get out before she found herself pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Charles shook her by the shoulders hard enough to pull her rear from the floor. Seconds
later, she was eased back to the ground and his hands moved from around her shoulders to the either side of her face. Her own cheeks heated quickly at the bold smirk inching closer and closer. Just as she thought she might pop from the tension, she felt lips press against her cheek and the loud smack of an exaggerated kiss. Charles laughed out loud and pulled back to his seated position across the rug. Grace replaced Charles’s notably larger hands with her own, covering her cheeks.

  “Sorry,” Charles offered with a chuckle. In his excitement, he added, “But you do look especially cute when you blush.”

  Grace had the distinct feeling Charles was not, in fact, sorry as she tried to cover her whole face in her hands. The laughter that action caused led her to believe he might be trying to get her back for earlier. She opened one eye between her fingers and tried to glare. It didn’t quite suit her, and from his continued laughter it didn’t have the desired effect.

  “I am sorry, really,” Charles stated, suppressing further laughter. When Grace remained with her face in her hands, he reached out and tapped her foot with his finger. When he caught her eyes between her fingers, he added, “I remember a certain someone nearly plowing me over with a hug not that long ago.”

  Her mouth dropped open slightly before she snapped it shut. “I…I didn’t kiss you, though!”

  Charles waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sounds like a missed opportunity.” Despite the teasing, Grace couldn’t ignore the pure joy in the eyes of her companion and found herself smiling in return. Mirth bubbled from her core, and before she knew it she was laughing with the cheeky fey still smiling like the sun. Their laughter drowned out even the great hum of the engines.

  ◆◆◆

  “I think I might be having second thoughts about the plan,” Serin whispered as her eyes locked on the incoming darkness. Even smooth water wasn’t really her comfort zone, so she didn’t really think the tantrums of a local deity were going to improve her feelings.