by Dan Avera
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Caleeta whispered, her words muddled by her thick Islander accent. Clare caught the gist of it, though, especially when she looked at the woman's eyes; they were sparkling with adoration.
“It is,” Clare said, and Katryna nodded her assent. “Does it go all the way to the bottom of the sea?”
“Aye. Humans live up above, everything else down below.”
“What else lives in it?” Katryna asked.
Caleeta ticked off on her fingers as she spoke. “Merfolk, fish, sharks, squids, wumblies, tumblies, water drakes, and the Sea Spirit and his people.”
Clare shot Katryna a confused look which she returned in earnest, but neither woman said anything.
“What,” Caleeta said, looking at them both in confusion, “you aren't going to ask about the wumblies and the tumblies? Everybody ask about the wumblies and the tumblies.”
Clare looked at Katryna for help, but none was forthcoming. “I...well, I figured you'd tell us if they were important...” She trailed off and shrugged helplessly.
Caleeta barked a laugh and slapped her thigh in a manner that was remarkably similar to Borbos. “You are funny!” she cried, jabbing her finger at Clare, and she laughed again. “No such thing as wumblies and tumblies. Is a joke we play on the greenbloods, yeah?”
Clare was having an annoyingly difficult time understanding what the woman was saying. Not wanting to be rude, however, she pushed the frustration into the back of her mind. “The Sea Spirit,” Clare said in an attempt to change the subject. “What's that?”
“Ah,” said Caleeta with a nod. “Him. He be Borbos' greatest creation. Well, Beros', actually, but Borbos be Beros, so we just pretend like it was him that make it first. Much easier to talk about then, yeah?” She looked at Katryna and Clare for confirmation, and they nodded weakly. “He live on the very bottom with all his subjects. Nobody disturb him because he sleep most of the time. He be very old.”
“Ah,” said Clare after a notable silence had passed, which she took to mean that the explanation was complete. “So...what does he do? Except sleep, I mean.”
“Well, he dream the merfolk what to do, mostly. They be the caretakers of the ocean, and he be the one in charge of them. Borbos can't always be in the sea, so he have the Sea Spirit watch over it while him gone. Make sense, yeah?”
Clare nodded. She could have sworn she'd heard something about the Sea Spirit dreaming about merfolk, but she decided not to question Caleeta. No need to give myself a headache.
“Hey,” Caleeta said suddenly, looking around, “where your man be?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your man Will. The Dragon King? You always be right next to him, but not now.” Caleeta looked around again for effect and shrugged. “Where he be?”
Clare felt her face redden, and she looked away. “I—don't know.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Caleeta open her mouth to ask another question, but before she could speak Katryna cleared her throat—very, very loudly—and the Islander woman closed her mouth with a snap.
“Right. Well, I be off, then.” Caleeta weaved away through the crowd and disappeared a moment later.
“Odd woman,” Katryna said. “I wonder if they're all like that over—”
“Katryna,” Clare interrupted without looking at her, “please, I know why you're here. I...I'm sorry. I know how you feel about Will. I didn't mean to hurt him.”
Katryna snorted, and Clare turned to her with a confused look. “Clare, listen, I'm not here to chastise you or beat the pretty out of you for upsetting my friend.” She shook her head and laughed. “Trust me, I'm not like that. If I get mad enough to actually do something to you, you won't know about it because you'll be dead.” She winked. “Promise. But really, that's not why I'm here.” She moved up next to Clare then and slipped an arm around her waist. “I'm here because I think I understand your problem, and I want you to know that you've got a woman friend who's here for you.”
Clare was struck well and truly speechless. She looked at Katryna, who stared back at her impassively. “I...” Clare was not sure what to say. “Thank you, Katryna, but I—”
“No buts,” Katryna interrupted. “You aren't listening, Clare. I am here for you, as a friend who understands, so talk to me.”
Clare's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I'm in the sea! What a fitting analogy, a secluded part of her mind yammered, but she quashed it with a shake of her head. “I don't—I'm not sure—”
Katryna raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “Are you really going to do this?” she asked, and her voice held a thinly veiled threat. Talk to me, it said, or I will beat it out of you. Clare swallowed audibly.
“I'm sorry,” she finally said. “I've never had a...woman friend. Not really. It's difficult to open up.”
There were nearly a thousand warriors riding atop the Leviathan, and the press of bodies was claustrophobic. Katryna seemed to sense this, and she steered Clare toward a break in the crowd and out toward the sea beast's tail end. Its segmented carapace undulated slowly up and down, creaking and groaning, and where it disappeared beneath the waves the water swirled and churned in a perpetual undertow.
A patch of mussels had taken root where they stood, and Clare crouched down to look at them. She ran her finger over one shiny black shell, and a little bubble of air sprouted from its tightly sealed mouth. It brought back memories of her life in Dahoto—of going out in the early morning while the sky was grey and the air still cold and wet to pick mussels and oysters with her father. She smiled softly.
“He's a god,” Katryna said, her words lacking both tact and pretense, and Clare was jerked abruptly and unceremoniously back to all of her woes. “And you don't want to become like Asper.”
Clare's finger stopped, and she was silent and still for a time. “Yes,” she finally said in a soft voice. “I don't want to watch him stay the same while I get old.”
“But you do feel something for him.”
“Of course I do.”
Katryna knelt down in front of her, her hard brown eyes meeting Clare's emerald ones. “Then maybe you should tell him that.”
“Talk to him?” Clare asked. “After what I did to him in the Dark Forest? And after I...oh, spirits above...I slapped him...”
Katryna shrugged. “Why not? You apologized to him right before that, didn't you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And was it that hard to do?”
Clare hesitated. “Well...no, not really, but still—”
“Sometimes,” Katryna interrupted, “it's better to do what your heart tells you to do than what your head does.”
Clare froze, remembering Borost's words several days before. “Listen when your heart speaks, young lady, and never think twice about doing so.”
She looked at Katryna. “Everybody seems to be giving me the same advice,” she said softly. “But you didn't see Asper's face when Feothon told Will and I that she was a mortal. You didn't see the pain there, Katryna.” She shook her head and looked away, and her next words were little more than a whisper. “I don't want that.”
For a time the low hubbub of voices mingled with the constant rush of salty wind. Light sprays of sea water dappled Clare's cheeks in erratic bursts, and she lost herself in a daydream as she gazed out at the water rushing by, watching the sun play and sparkle along its surface. They were nearing the City now, and as they drew closer to the mismatched fleet of ships she could hear, very distantly, a ragged cheer rise from their crewmen.
“You know,” Clare said softly, and she gave a small, humorless laugh, “I...feh, never mind”
“What?”
She shook her head. “It's just...you know, after hearing all those stories from Serah, I thought...” She ran her fingers through her hair, and her next words were barely audible. “I thought I...might be the Phoenix Empress.” She laughed derisively.
“I did too,” Katryna said, and Clare slowly turned to
look at her.
“You—what?”
Katryna shrugged. “We all did—well, Castor and I, anyway. I don't know about Hook. You know, the whole...” She indicated her tongue and made a gruesome face. “But the way you and Will look at each other, it was like...you had to be. The Phoenix Empress, I mean. Aren't they supposed to be absolutely bonkers over one another?”
Clare blushed. “I hadn't realized it was so obvious,” she mumbled.
“It is, but that's not the point.” She shook her head and sighed. “I truly, honestly thought you were the other half.”
“Me too,” Clare said. “But if I am,” she held up her maimed hand, “then why did this happen? And why haven't I gone through what Will did? I mean...I don't feel any different. I don't feel any different at all.” She gestured back to the writhing press of people. “And if you and Castor and I noticed it, then you'd think the Titans would have as well. But they haven't said anything.”
She looked up at Katryna, half-hoping the woman would have some profound words of wisdom to share. But, to her shock and disappointment, she was speechless.
“I, ah...” Katryna began, faltering. “I don't know what to say.” She put her hand on Clare's shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I'm...I'm very sorry.”
Clare did not respond. They were drawing closer to the armada, and the sailors' shouts were getting louder. Bells rang, sails flapped in the wind, and gulls screamed overhead as they veered clumsily through the air on their endless quest for food. It was, Clare realized, very much like Dahoto had once been. The thought made her homesick.
“We're almost there,” Katryna said quietly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. “You know, Clare, there was a time when I thought I didn't want to be with Castor because I was afraid I'd lose him in a fight. But you know what? I realized that I would rather spend every last one of my waking moments with him than live out the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like.”
“That isn't the same.”
“Why not?” Katryna gave Clare a hard look. “How is that any different?”
“You have the chance to grow old with Castor,” Clare said. “Will is never going to age. He will look exactly as he does now for the rest of his life.”
Katryna grinned. “I'd count that as a plus, myself. And besides—you're the same age as him and you look the same age as well. I'll be happy to look half as good as you when I'm forty.”
Clare had no response ready, and she looked away.
“You know,” Katryna continued, “this conversation is starting to sound awfully materialistic. Are you worried he's going to set you aside for something younger once you start to wrinkle?” Clare studied the mussels intently and said nothing. “Ah,” Katryna said softly. “Then I think perhaps you don't deserve Will.”
Clare was taken aback. Katryna stood then and made to leave, and her next words were every bit as painful as a slap. “By the way, Clare, remember the loyalty test I told you about? You've just failed it.”
“Katryna, wait,” Clare said, and she stood and caught the other woman's arm in her good hand. “Please don't go.”
Katryna turned and gave her a blank stare. “Why not?”
“I'm sorry.”
Katryna cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps I'm not the one you should be telling that to.”
Clare's gaze fell. “I know.” She let her hand fall away from Katryna's arm. “I'm just...”
“Afraid.”
Clare raised her eyes to meet Katryna's. She nodded.
“It's alright to be afraid, Clare,” Katryna said softly. “You just have to know who to trust. Will is going to live forever, and you won't. But I know him well enough to say that if he gives his heart to you, he is never going to take it back.” And then, in a move that made Clare widen her eyes with shock, Katryna caught her in a tight embrace.
“It's always going to be your choice,” Katryna continued. “Whether or not you want to be with Will is entirely up to you. But I've seen the way you look at him, and I've seen the way he looks at you. Dark days are ahead of us, and everybody needs a little happiness sometime.”
She held Clare at arm's length and gave her a smile. “By the way,” she continued, “you didn't fail the loyalty test. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.” And then she winked, and a moment later she had disappeared into the crowd.
Clare laughed softly and shook her head. I think that woman might be mad, she thought. Or perhaps just unnecessarily cruel. But she smiled regardless. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should go talk to Will...
But she never got the chance to. They were close to the armada now, and the nearest ship had turned away from its fellows and was making for the Leviathan. A lone man stood at the very tip of the ship's bow, and he was waving and shouting, “Lord Borbos! Thank the Void you've arrived!”
The soldiers atop the Leviathan fell immediately silent. “Your messenger found me. What be the trouble?” Clare heard Borbos cry.
“The Darkmen!” the man called back, and Clare dimly recognized the name the Islanders used for the Fallen. By then the ship was very close, and the Leviathan shifted so as to match the vessel's speed. “They've attacked us!”
Clare looked around—as did every other soldier—but could see nothing. The sea was calm, and the armada of ships might as well have been fishing for all the combat they were involved in.
“I see nothing,” Borbos called in confusion, giving voice to Clare's thoughts. “Have they gone?”
The man on the ship shook his head. “They've set up a ring around the City. Anybody who tries to get out is killed.”
“Killed by what?”
The man shuddered and lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “Nightmares.”
More yaru? Clare thought dubiously. Surely they can't live in the water, too. A chorus of whispers flowed through the crowd of men and women, but they quieted when Borbos began to speak again. “Mayhap you be mistaken,” he said doubtfully. “It could have been a feint. I touched the sea when we arrived; I felt nothing. These waters be clear.”
The man on the ship's face fell. “My lord,” he stammered, “I...I think we may have lured you into a trap.”
“What do you mean?” The voice belonged to Serah, and it was laced with fear—fear, Clare guessed, not for herself, but for Will.
“They've been battling the merfolk for four days, milady. And...” The man blanched visibly and swallowed, his throat bobbing with fear. “And they've captured the Sea Spirit.”
A chorus of enraged shouts and screams erupted from the front of the Leviathan, and Clare began to make her way through the throng of people to that position. She sensed a battle on the horizon, and her promise to Serah to defend Will with her life flashed through her mind. Whether or not Will liked it was irrelevant; she was going to follow him like a shadow.
The din of warriors making ready for battle filled her ears, and the great beast beneath her added its groan to the din. It was so loud that the man on the ship had to toss a rope ladder over the vessel's side and climb down to speak with Borbos. As Clare neared the front of the Leviathan, Serah's voice pierced through the clamor and reached her ears.
“They must be using the same trick as Pestilence,” she said. “How else would so many of Keth's children be able to remain hidden from you?”
Borbos, who was pacing back and forth, shook his head. “You be right. And that means that we've fallen right into their trap. They must have allowed that messenger to get through to lure us here. But why...?”
“They want Will,” Leyra said, and her beautiful voice carried a dark edge that chilled Clare to the bone. “Pestilence may have sent a message to Agony before he died, or perhaps his yaru fled to the Black Fortress and spread the word.”
All of the Titans' eyes settled on Will, who had adopted a look of grim rage. “Will,” Feothon said, “we need to get you out of here. We have made a grave mistake.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” Will answered. “I don't really und
erstand why you people keep failing to grasp that fact—we came here expecting a fight, and I am going to stay regardless of how you feel about it. Why is it any different now?”
“We did not expect the Fallen themselves to be here, Will,” Feothon replied. “If they are, it changes everything.”
“But you're all here,” said Will. “We can fight them if we do it together.”
“And what if you die?” Serah said, her voice rising in anger. “What then? The world will be cast into darkness once more—perhaps for another five hundred years, until Koutoum decides to grace us with his presence. Only this time the Fallen will not be weakened, yes?”
“Well what if you die?” Will yelled. “Who's going to teach me how to...how to do whatever it is I'm supposed to do? Huh? Am I just supposed to wave my hands and mumble some ancient words of power and become the fiery god of death? Is that how this works, Serah? If it is, please tell me now because I really need to get started on practicing my hand-waving.”
“Will is right,” Leyra said, holding up her hands to stay Serah's angry retort. “If we die, he might as well be dead for all the good he is going to do anyone.”
“But he killed Pestilence in Prado!” Serah cried. “He can do it, with time. And who is to say we will all die?”
“Yes, he awakened,” Leyra answered, “and he almost killed the—”
She stopped abruptly when she caught sight of Clare, who was watching the exchange with widened eyes. “He almost killed Clare,” Leyra finished a moment later, still holding Clare's gaze. “And himself. He cannot survive on his own.”
“But what if something happens that we do not expect?” Serah said, desperation creeping into her voice. “He cannot stay here. There is a force down there that was sent to capture or kill at least one Titan—and they must have expected us all to come. The Fallen themselves are undoubtedly here!”
“Serah!” Feothon roared, and everyone close enough to hear him fell immediately into stunned silence. Clare had only known the Titan for a short time, but she had grown accustomed to his easy, quiet mannerisms. This new side of him was one she had never expected, and by the looks on the faces around her, she was not alone.
