by P. D. Kalnay
The relief on his face might have been comical outside of our deadly voyage.
“Are you certain?”
I could tell he also didn’t want to get his hopes too high.
In my time at sea, I’d grown competent at judging distances, “We’ll see it soon.”
The two of us peered forward for the next hour, and then a line of blue appeared, replacing the endless black and grey. A ragged cheer came from the foredeck as someone else saw, and we shared mad grins.
Our excitement was short-lived. After long weeks of holding fast, the mast snapped near the base, and fell forward, down—and mostly off of—the ship, dragged by the sail. Screams replaced the cheering, and I took the wheel as the captain ran forward shouting orders. We were so close, we could literally see it.
The sailors of the Starburst had no other option besides cutting free the tangled rope and rigging, and watching as the giant timber fell to the sea. Then the captain ordered two longboats into the water and the rowers began a long evening and night of towing the Starburst free of the Maelstrom.
Captain Danar told me I might as well get a proper night’s rest, so I went below.
***
Clear skies greeted us when Ivy and I came up on deck the next morning. The sunshine only highlighted the terrible condition of the Starburst. A quick glance told me that new sailors filled the longboats up ahead, and while we were likely moving forward, I couldn’t tell from looking.
“We have a problem,” Captain Danar said.
Ivy and I turned to greet him. He looked as though he’d stayed awake through the night.
“It seems like we have a bunch of them,” I said.
Captain Danar laughed. He was at least as tough as nails.
“I apologise. I meant to say we have an immediate problem.”
“The vines should hold a little longer,” Ivy said.
“Not that, Princess. It’s the current. We’ll reach it by midday at the rate we’re going, but with the way things stand we’ll not make it across.”
The other crossing had involved passing between whirlpools and travelling across the main current quickly before it dragged the ship off course. I needed no expertise to see that the longboats wouldn’t be enough to accomplish either of those things. We couldn’t afford to wait around given the vines’ deterioration. My first thought was that Ivy and I might leave in our boat.
Don’t judge, it was only my first thought.
“Maybe my boat can help,” I said, “if we can get it into the water.”
The captain looked sceptical.
“A few more oars will do little,” he said, “and even if you mount the mast and we jury-rig a sail, it will still be too small to make the difference. What can you hope to accomplish?”
I hadn’t advertised the capabilities of my boat, and we’d driven slowly across the Havensport harbour to the Starburst. I’d since learned that water enchantments were common on small boats, but that they weren’t powerful or long-lasting.
“If we can get it down, I think it might be enough,” I said. “We have to try something.”
“You’re right, and trying can do no harm.”
***
The guys in the longboats took a break as other crewmembers erected the gantry crane on deck. That was backbreaking labour, but thankfully the parts making up the crane travelled in the main hold and had survived the kraken. By midday, my boat hung from two slings and was ready to launch. I left the mast on deck, since I had no sail. Then I leapt up, landing neatly in the boat before they swung it out and lowered it to the waves.
As a bonus, I got a good luck kiss beforehand.
It was awesome being back in my boat, but it felt a lot smaller. I drove up to the bow of the Starburst where a third line dangled, tied it to the cleats on either side of the tiller and took up a position between the longboats. The pump that drove my boat had seven settings, but I didn’t take it up above the fourth until the slack disappeared from the line behind me.
I was dealing with nothing but unknowns. I didn’t know how powerful the pump was, how strong the cleats were, if the rope would hold, or if anything would happen. There was only one way to answer those questions… I activated the fifth set of symbols on the pump and the knots on the cleats audibly tightened. The guys in the longboat started rowing again, and I turned back towards the ship, a hundred yards behind. I used one of the few skills I’d learned from Lyrian to speak to Captain Danar, standing next to Ivy on the bow.
“Does everything look OK?” I called.
“Yes, I’d guess you’ve added as much pull as a third boatful of oarsmen. A remarkable water enchantment, but I fear still not enough to manage a successful crossing.”
I heard his disappointment.
“I’ll go faster, now,” I sent back.
Just before I broke the connection, I heard him say, “Faster?”
I activated the sixth set of symbols and the rope behind me hummed with the tension. Then the longboats fell behind on either side. The oarsmen hadn’t slowed, but soon they were back in line with the prow of the Starburst, which now pushed a modest wake. Awesome. There remained one set of symbols left to activate. I’d only tried all seven one time before, and the ride had been fairly uncontrollable, but with the heavy load behind, there seemed no danger of that.
No sooner had I taken the pump up to full speed than I heard a bad sound come from behind me. Instinct told me to duck as the wrist thick rope snapped and whipped forward with deadly speed. That rope would’ve cut me in half or in the best case, broken my back. Unhooked from the heavy load, my boat shot forward like a torpedo, and as it crested the next wave, it left the water. My butt also left seat. I deactivated the pump as quickly as possible. The landing was painful, and the resulting splash filled the bottom third of the hull with water.
My bilge pump was untested in the field. It was miniature version of the pump that drove the boat and only had three sets of symbols. In my fright, I activated all three, resulting in a jet of water that shot up from the port side like the spout of a tipsy whale. The pump drained the boat in a few seconds and then made unhappy hissing sounds before I deactivated it.
After taking a few deep breaths, I turned and headed back to the Starburst. The longboats were both near the stern and Captain Danar waved both arms, dancing excitedly. Once I was underneath, I again created two tunnels of air to allow conversation.
“We’ll need a stronger rope,” I said.
“That was incredible,” he said. “We’ll drop two sturdier lines and bring up the longboats—they’ll never be able to keep pace. Incredible…”
“You’ll have to guild me from up there,” I said. “I can’t see as well from this height.”
“As you say, Prince Jakalain.”
***
With a rope attached to each cleat, I headed for the line of greener water in front of us. I kept the pump at level six until the captain sounded a horn which was my signal to push straight ahead at full speed. The cables hummed behind me, but they held as we drove for the gap between two whirlpools. Those whirlpools were likely no bigger than the others I’d seen, but from lower down it was scarier looking into the churning maws.
My boat came close to the swirling rim, but the captain timed it perfectly, and the Starburst passed neatly in the middle of them a few seconds later. I dropped the speed back to six symbols for the crossing. That took a good hour before the sea darkened ahead and the horn sounded a second time. Another minute or two of terrifying excitement followed, and then we were out of the current and back on what amounted to the normal seas of the First World.
After a brief consultation with Captain Danar, I continued towing the Starburst westward making occasional course corrections at his instruction. A basket of food slid down from the ship at dinner time, bumping the side of my boat. Just before dusk, Ivy did the same. She was almost onboard before I noticed. My focus was on the sea ahead as I chased the setting sun, and though Ivy slid in perfect silen
ce, the necklace gave her away once it got close enough.
I helped her aboard.
“That’s a little dangerous,” I said.
“I missed you too, Jack.”
With my spare arm I gave her half a hug.
“How will you get back up?” I asked.
“The same way I got here, but not until tomorrow morning. I’ll take my turn at the tiller throughout the nights while you sleep.”
“When are you going to sleep?”
“I’ll sleep during the days in our cabin. Captain Danar says we should make landfall in five or six days at our current speed. He had many questions concerning your boat.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That only you and I can affect its enchantments.”
“I could give one of the crew permission…”
“What do you think they’d do if the Starburst broke apart behind them?” Ivy asked.
Probably cut the line and take off in the boat.
“So you see,” she said. “Only we can operate the boat. The captain looked nervous enough when I said I’d join you. He might have objected if you’d not left your hammer and shield behind.”
“As if we’d strand them.”
“Many would, but I believe you’ve earned Captain Danar’s trust and his respect. He said no course corrections are needed in the night, so I’ll just be minding the boat while you rest.”
I’d spent many days and nights on the bridge next to the captain as we braved the Maelstrom together, and it would have hurt if he didn’t trust me. The crew’s fear was bad enough.
“And we’re on course for Gaan?” I asked.
“No, we are making for the nearest coastline, in case the vines fail.”
“So the crew can make land if it sinks?”
“Exactly, but Captain Danar believes we’ll make landfall very near to the city.”
“What do you know about Gaan?”
“It was the lower capital of the Shogaan Empire and second in size and splendour only to the upper capitol, Sho. Gaan filled both banks at the mouth of the river Aan and spread far across the plains of Beena. Today, the southern half of the city lies abandoned and the Anubeans hold the northern half as a southernmost outpost. The Aan is one of the great rivers, and most of the Empire’s food grew along its banks.”
The First World was mountainous at the edges and low toward the middle, so most of the rainfall on land eventually made its way back to the sea. There were rivers all around the world, but in a few places the geography was right to create super rivers, known as great rivers. Basically the First World equivalents of the Nile and Amazon. I’d never seen either of those rivers in real life, so I was excited to see the Aan, and later… to sail up the Dun.
We’d had little opportunity for idle chatter in the Maelstrom, but now we had nothing but time. I changed the topic.
“How do you banish someone?” I asked Ivy.
I didn’t expect her to tell me how to return Mr. Ryan. If she knew that, I was sure she’d have mentioned it before we’d set sail, but I’d discovered belatedly that Ivy was smart and knew a surprising amount of useful information. Like me she’d grown up without friends, and also like me, she rarely thought to volunteer information.
“There are many ways a person might be banished.”
“Really?” I asked, “How?”
“A skilled florathen enchanter can implant a compulsion that will prevent trespass or return to a place. The efficacy of compulsions depends on the strength of will of the enchanter and the one banished. The vine is a banishment from everywhere else and more permanent than any other.”
“That wouldn’t keep a guy from being reborn on a whole world, right?”
“Of course not. Whatever they did to Janik was more far-reaching and would have demanded an enchantment of unimaginable power. I have no idea where they discovered the enchantment, or how they found the strength to accomplish it, but it’s beyond what our people are capable of under normal circumstances. Even your grandmother failed to discover or reverse that enchantment.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty smart and I’m guessing a solid enchanter back in the day?” I hadn’t thought of my grandmother in quite a while. Ivy frowned and shook her head. “What?”
“Your grandmother may be the most powerful and skilled enchanter her people have ever produced. Folk still fear her name, and she’s been gone for centuries. She took the throne on her twenty-first birthday!”
“Is that unusual?” I still knew few details of Fae society.
“Unheard of.” Ivy said. “As I explained before, twenty-one is the age of adulthood, but kings and queens are never younger than three hundred—and often much older when they ascend.”
“Did the old king or queen die?”
“No, your grandmother challenged the ruling king for the throne. Vatilain Lightningborn Aerantial was her uncle and less than eight hundred years of age. A first prince or first princess has the right to challenge the king or queen to a duel. It is meant as a safeguard in the event that the sitting monarch grows weak or mad. I know of no other time the challenge was made.”
“So she defeated him and he stepped down?”
“The duel was to the death. From the stories I’ve heard, your grandmother took less than a single hour to claim the throne and take control of Windhol. She ruled with an iron fist until she left this world. In a way, she made our journey to Anukdun necessary.”
“How so?”
“Vatilain was the only one of the three who cast the enchantment—banishing Janik—to escape Sirean’s flames.”
Only someone who hadn’t met my grandmother would be surprised by Ivy’s story.
“I doubt he’d have helped, even if he was still kicking around,” I said.
“It does seem unlikely.”
Chapter 9 – Conspirators
Ivy and I took turns piloting for the days of tugboat duty that followed. A short length of rope, tying the tiller in place, could almost have done the same job. We pulled the Starburst west as it shed increasingly larger pieces of vine in its wake. Time was running out, and although I stayed on my boat around the clock, I often heard hammering coming from the larger vessel. Ivy confirmed my suspicions that the noises were the crew desperately making repairs, to buy more time before the Starburst inevitably broke in two and sank.
When coastline appeared on the horizon, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Hours later, as the sun sank below the tall jungle canopy filling that coast, the Starburst floated at anchor a few hundred yards offshore.
We’d made it—more or less.
***
I returned to the Starburst to eat dinner in the officers’ mess with Ivy and Captain Danar. Our dinner was more extravagant than the usual. I figured it was because the need to ration supplies had come to an end.
“I wasn’t sure we’d make it,” Captain Danar said. “Passengers don’t usually have to work on a voyage. I and the crew are grateful for your aid.”
The crew were polite, and maybe grateful, but I’d mostly seen fear since the kraken.
“The whole crew is afraid of us,” I said.
“Fear is the sensible response,” Captain Danar said with a chuckle.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m of two minds on the matter. Since I saw you slay the kraken, a part of me cannot help but fear you. I disregarded the tales told on Knight’s Haven: a single warrior defeating an entire Clan—and dispatching a nest of wyvern? Preposterous, I thought, as any reasoning person would, but after the kraken…”
“Ivy killed some of the wyvern,” I said.
“I have no doubt.” He took a sip of his wine. “I saw her battle the kraken too, and the iron vine represents power I wouldn’t have believed possible, had my eyes not witnessed it. In spite of that, I’ve spent time with both of you, and many hours at your side during the crossing, sharing in peril. You are unquestionably Powers, but you are ordinary youths at the same time. Over the last mon
ths, your quality has become apparent. They may not show it, but the crew have as much admiration as fear. When time has dulled the latter, only the former will remain.”
We’d be long gone by then.
“How far north of the city are we?” I asked.
“Only hours in your boat,” Captain Danar said.
“Then I should be able to tow the Starburst there in a day.”
It’d be a relief to see the broken ship safely docked.
“He doesn’t wish you to do so,” Ivy said. She was staring hard at Captain Danar.
The captain looked slightly embarrassed.
“Is that true?” I asked.
“Yes, Prince Jakalain.”
That made no sense.
“Don’t you think we’ll make it?”
The ship was looking rough. My foot brushed the crumbling remains of a length of vine that ran from the galley, under the table, and out another doorway.
“No, I fear we will.” He raised his hands to stop my next obvious question. “As things stand, with the undamaged cargo in the holds, the price of passage to Knight’s Haven paid by the knights, and then your passage, we’ll just break even on this venture, not factoring in the ship. The Starburst is compromised beyond repair, which will leave me ruined, the crew unpaid, and my family a ship in the hole, so to speak.”
“You have an alternate plan?” I couldn’t imagine what that might be.
“Yes, if the ship runs aground, here, with the continuing failure of the vines, in a day or two at most it will become a wreck, rather than a damaged vessel. If you took me south to my family’s offices, I’d return aboard one of my kinsmen’s ships to collect the crew and salvage the cargo…”
“But you’ll still lose the ship–”
“He has papers of surety,” Ivy said, “and hopes to collect on them. Isn’t that so?”
Her tone said she was unimpressed.
“It is, Princess,” the captain looked equally embarrassed and determined, “but, it is a matter of honour and vengeance as much as one of gold.”
“What are papers of surety?” I asked.
There was always some new and often miraculous thing to discover about the First World. As Ivy explained, I learned papers of surety didn’t fall into that category. They were just an insurance policy, and other than the enchantment that bound both parties, insurance on her world was no more miraculous than it was on the one I’d come from.
