by Tamara Moss
‘I’ve had a busy day.’ She picked up the pace again. ‘What’s she like? Is she amazing? I bet she is. I bet everyone stops when she walks into a room. What are her crew like?’
‘She came in alone. I … I didn’t like her.’
‘Of course you didn’t like her – she’s the pirate queen. Did she explain how she was framed?’
‘She was talking about the ruler of her country being dead, and how there’s a conspiracy to cover it up, but she was only just getting started when I left to find you …’ He trailed off and said nothing more.
The temple came into view. They had to pass through a set of heavy gates to get inside. The temple was five storeys high, each level a smaller block on top of the last. It was used for those who wanted to sit in peace and reflect on Ytzuam and the Gods. Lintang used to learn about the Gods from the priests when she was younger, but the only time she visited now was during seasonal festivals.
They climbed the slippery stone steps. Pelita buzzed up to the second storey of the temple and disappeared through a window, probably to wreak havoc in the priests’ quarters.
Three hardwood statues guarded the doorless entry. Niti, the creator of stars, his hands cupped to hold new seeds. Patiki, the planter of stars, her basket tucked beneath her arm. Mratzi, the harvester of stars, wrapped in her ribbons, her lips and eyes sewn shut.
Bayani shivered as they passed the statues.
The stone floor was almost as muddy as the ground outside. Villagers sat on the long benches, their best clothes drenched. Rain and sweat dripped from their brows, making their faces glisten beneath the light of flaming torches lining the walls. They shifted in their spots, tense and wary, as if waiting for a sudden pirate attack.
Lintang walked beneath the ceiling of deep blue. It had swirls of painted stars representing Ytzuam, and the shooting stars that had passed overhead when the mythies arrived. No one knew why the Three Gods had sent the mythies. The creatures had caused havoc throughout the world, but the priests always said in serene voices that the Gods had reasons for everything they did, even if humans couldn’t understand it.
There was a woman on the stage at the front of the temple. She was speaking in Vierse, but her accent was heavy, the language new on her tongue. It was how most adults in the village spoke once they stopped going to school and using Vierse in daily conversation.
The woman was fearsome. Her deep purple top and pants hugged the body and blossomed out at the sleeves and ankles. A weapon hung from her belt, with a spear on one end and a curved axe on the other, which was as scary as the chain of large fangs around her neck. Her thick lips were curled in a sneer and her eyes, set wide apart, were narrowed in distrust. She didn’t look like an Islander, or a Vierzan.
‘And so,’ she was saying, pacing the stage like a restless predator, ‘we need child to get past sea guardian.’
A mutter rose from the adults, even as children’s hands bolted up to volunteer.
From the front row, Elder Wulan stood. ‘You want a child to get past the sea guardian?’
‘Young girl not betray us,’ the captain said.
The muttering increased. Lintang drew in a hopeful breath. This was perfect. Forget the other kids. She was the one who had practised duelling. She was the one who had fought a malam rasha and lived. If she could convince everyone the malam rasha existed, she’d be chosen to go aboard.
‘We drop her in Zaiben after,’ the captain continued, ignoring the villagers’ unease. ‘Vierzans send her back.’
Bayani stiffened. ‘Zaiben?’ he whispered, so softly Lintang knew she wasn’t supposed to have heard.
Why did that interest him? Zaiben was the capital of Vierz. It was where Elder Wulan had come from. It was supposed to be amazing, but Bayani had never shown an interest in actually visiting it before. Lintang was the one who dreamed of far-off places, not him. What had changed?
He nudged her before she could ask, keeping her moving down the aisle.
Oh, right. She had a job to do.
She only took a few steps before she realised he wasn’t following. When she gestured for him to join her, he didn’t move. His gaze darted around at the villagers. Some had already noticed them and were watching with frowns. Poor, shy Bayani, always afraid to speak up, always afraid to get into trouble. What a dull life he’d lead without her.
She nodded to reassure him she could do it alone, and continued walking. More and more people turned to look. Sweat beaded on her palms. Her face felt hot. She couldn’t see Mother yet, but it wouldn’t be long before the yelling started.
She had to do this. She had to convince the villagers they were in danger.
‘We leave soon,’ the captain said. ‘We hunt sirens in Adina Sea. It is goodwill. You understand we are not criminals.’
Lintang faltered again. She had almost forgotten the pirate queen had helped get rid of a labak. This was good. This meant Captain Shafira could help find the malam rasha.
Elder Wulan frowned. ‘How do we know anything you told us tonight is the truth?’
The captain started to reply, but at that moment she caught sight of Lintang in the aisle and her hand drifted to the weapon at her side. ‘What are you doing?’
Those in the front turned in their spots. Mother stood from several benches away, the golden threads of her favourite shisea gleaming in the light. ‘Lintang!’
Lintang gulped. Water from her hair dripped down her back. She shivered despite the heat. ‘You have to listen to me.’
Nimuel waved to her as Mother squeezed past people towards the aisle. Father stood too, shaking his head.
Once, Father had adored Lintang, taking her on his fishing boat where they would sit all morning with flagons of mao juice, talking and hauling in nets of fish when they were full. But ever since he’d started coming home to Mother’s tales of Lintang’s disobedience, he smiled less at her. Now it seemed he only had eyes for Nimuel, no longer interested in the daughter who caused so much trouble.
Lintang drew a breath and ploughed on. ‘There’s a malam rasha in the panna plantation. It tried to kill me and Bayani this afternoon.’
‘Lintang!’ Mother whispered furiously. ‘I need to tether you to the house and never let you out!’
‘No, it’s true. I promise! I promise, in Niti’s name!’
Other villagers whispered among themselves. Elder Wulan covered her eyes in shame.
Lintang’s courage plummeted. She had sworn on a God, and still they didn’t believe her. Couldn’t they see this time was different? Couldn’t they tell she was serious?
She turned to the captain, the only person in the room who didn’t know her as a storyteller. ‘I’m not making it up. We need your help.’
‘What is malam rasha?’ the captain said.
‘A night terror. We only survived because someone chased it away.’ Lintang searched the crowd of angry faces. ‘Who was it? Who saved us? Please come forward, we need to stop it –’
Mother reached the end of the bench and snatched Lintang’s wrist. ‘Forget my daughter,’ she said in loud, hesitant Vierse. ‘She makes up stories to get out of trouble. She is a silly girl! She will be sent off to the mining community, mark my words.’
She yanked Lintang’s arm so hard it felt like Lintang’s shoulder was being ripped from its socket. ‘Ow! Mother, I’m not making it up –’
Bayani tried to stand in the way as Mother stormed for the exit, but she shoved him aside. ‘Don’t you dare bring shame to your family the way my daughter brings shame to hers.’
Bayani stared helplessly after them. The other villagers had turned away, although the captain still watched with a thoughtful frown.
‘Mother!’ Lintang said again as she was dragged down the aisle. ‘I’m not lying, I’m not trying to embarrass you, please –’
‘Stop.’
The voice sliced through the temple, as sharp as the steel blade of a sword, but it didn’t come from the stage behind them. It came from in front.
>
Mother halted so abruptly that Lintang bumped into her. Someone blocked the entrance, her figure momentarily silhouetted in a flash of lightning.
Silence blanketed the temple. The restlessness, the fidgeting, the movement – it all ceased.
Lintang peeked around Mother. The newcomer stepped inside, the clap of her boots echoing on the stone floor. She was donned in leathery armour across her chest and shoulders, and her brown pants were tucked into high, sturdy boots. Her undershirt had laces down the arms, each wrist capped with more of the leathery armour. Her black braids, roped together with a red kerchief, rippled like the veins of panna leaves. Her skin was as dark as timber burned through. Lintang had never seen anyone like her.
The woman advanced, her hand resting on the hilt of her sheathed sword. When she reached Mother, she simply swept her out of the way, exposing Lintang.
No one else in the temple moved.
‘Your name,’ the woman said.
Lintang’s tongue felt as though it was coated in sticky sap. She bade it to move as she parted her lips. She’d practised her introduction a hundred times at school, which was lucky, because her brain had stopped working, and the words left her mouth from habit alone.
‘Lintang of Desa, village on the island of Tolus, daughter of Aanjay and Arif, child of Nyasamdra.’
The corner of the woman’s lips tweaked, but it was such a slight movement Lintang might’ve imagined it.
‘Please.’ Mother’s voice was breathless. ‘Please, she is trouble. She is a liar. Don’t listen –’
‘Are you a liar?’ the woman said to Lintang.
Lintang couldn’t look away. Power and strength and nobility pulsed from the woman’s stance, from her voice, from her very presence. Lintang didn’t dare lie to her. ‘Yes.’
‘There, you see?’ Mother’s voice was more confident now, although it trembled with what might have been relief.
‘Would you lie to me?’ the woman said.
‘No,’ Lintang said.
‘Would you ever disobey me?’
‘No.’ Lintang’s breath was stuck in her lungs. She felt caught in a spell; enchanted. This must be what it felt like to meet a Goddess.
‘Disobeying me is a severe offence on my ship, Lintang of Desa,’ the woman said. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
The woman pursed her lips, satisfied. ‘Show me the back of your neck.’
Mother gave a small cry as Lintang lifted her hair to reveal the shiny scale embedded in her skin. When she turned back, she said, ‘You’re the real Captain Shafira, aren’t you?’
The woman smiled, properly this time. Thunder cracked outside.
Mother heaved a shuddering breath. ‘No.’ She pulled Lintang into her arms. ‘I know what you are thinking. You cannot take my daughter.’
Captain Shafira rested her hand on the hilt of her sword again. ‘I’ll make you a deal. I’ll rid your village of the night terror, and you give me this child so that we can pass through the sea guardian’s waters safely.’
Lintang gasped.
‘No,’ Mother said.
Captain Shafira raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m making this deal out of kindness. If you don’t accept, I’ll still take her.’
Spots appeared in front of Lintang’s eyes. The Goddess wanted her. Her.
Mother’s face warped into her terrible glare, but Captain Shafira didn’t even flinch.
‘If I may?’ Elder Wulan stood again. ‘With respect, Captain, we have no proof this malam rasha even exists.’
Mother opened her mouth to agree, but Captain Shafira cut her off.
‘Of course it exists.’ She looked at Lintang, a gleam in her eye, sharing some private joke, and it was wonderful, even if Lintang didn’t know what the joke was yet, because the Goddess believed her and everything, everything would be all right.
‘Are you sure?’ Elder Wulan said, regarding Lintang suspiciously.
‘Absolutely,’ Captain Shafira said. ‘I was the one who chased it away.’
* * *
THE MYTHIE GUIDEBOOK
ENTRY #95: Siren (common)
The siren is a sea mythie under the predator category. It is humanoid and made from a solid, shell-like stone. It nests with four to eight of its kind. It is most dangerous at midday, during calm seas.
Diet: Coral, rocks, seaweed and, occasionally, each other.
Habitat: Shallow reefs worldwide.
Frequency: Moderately common.
Behaviour: Sirens put males under a spell with their enchanting song. The call causes men to either jump overboard or crash their ship into the reef. There is no cure. The best preparation is to have at least one female on board and a way to secure male crew until the nest is no longer in hearing range.
Eradication: As they have such tough exteriors, sirens can only be killed by dragon talons.
Did you know? Sirens are the cause of fifty-five per cent of marine deaths.
Danger level:
4 for males.
1 for females.
* * *
The Black Blade
‘I love her.’
‘Don’t be a gnome.’
Lintang stretched out and stared dreamily at the temple ceiling. ‘I do. I love her. I’m going to travel the seas with her for the rest of my life.’
Bayani crossed his legs on the bench beside her. ‘Even if she does end up taking you, she’ll dump you as soon as she’s past Nyasamdra.’
‘Nah-uh. I’m going to be so good that she’ll want to keep me forever.’ Lintang smiled at the painted shooting stars. ‘I can be one of her crew and see the world and have adventures and never, ever be stuck doing chores again.’
‘So you want to be a killer?’ Bayani said.
Lintang looked at him upside down. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘She hunts mythies.’
‘Yes, but they’re predator mythies. Like the malam rasha. Or the sirens.’
Bayani winced and didn’t reply.
‘I think it’s going to be amazing.’ Nimuel propped his chin on his knuckles on the back of the next bench. ‘You’re so lucky. Do you think she’ll take me, too?’
‘Sorry,’ Lintang said. ‘No boy can resist the siren’s call. She only wants girls.’
Some of the girls turned to her at that, looking envious and annoyed. Lintang resisted the pixie-ish urge to poke her tongue at them. They probably regretted refusing to duel with her now.
Nimuel sighed and took a salted peanut from a food platter that was going around. The village children had been left in the temple with Elder Wulan and Ramadel, head of the warriors’ guild, guarding the entrance. The rest of the adults had left the temple to help Mother find the malam rasha before Captain Shafira could. Mother claimed that if they could kill it first, Captain Shafira wouldn’t be able to take Lintang away.
Lintang had never imagined Mother could be so cruel. To go to such lengths, just to stop Lintang from being allowed to travel the world? And what would happen if she stayed in Desa? If Mother were serious, she’d be sent straight to the mining community. What good would she be there?
It didn’t matter. Captain Shafira would win, anyway. She’d been in the panna plantation. She’d saved their lives. She was the greatest person to sail the five seas. If anyone were going to defeat the malam rasha, it would be her.
‘Captain Shafira isn’t going to find the malam rasha’s legs first,’ Bayani said, his thoughts following the same path. ‘She isn’t from here. She doesn’t know the village like we do.’
He’d barely finished the sentence when a near-deafening clicking echoed through the temple. The children who had been lounging around, talking or dozing, bolted upright. Lintang sat up too and stared at the entrance, where Ramadel and Elder Wulan had moved into defensive positions.
‘Upstairs, into the priests’ quarters,’ Elder Wulan said to the children. ‘Go quietly.’
The children shrieked and screamed as they clambered towards the n
arrow staircase to the next level.
‘I said quietly!’ Elder Wulan bellowed after them.
Nimuel tugged at Lintang’s hand. ‘Come on!’
She pulled from his grip. ‘You go. Stay with Bayani.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll wait here in case Captain Shafira comes back.’ At Bayani’s exasperated expression, she added, ‘You’re the one who said she doesn’t know the village. No one else will help her, so I’ll have to do it.’
‘If you’re staying, I’m staying,’ Bayani said.
Lintang was impressed. She hadn’t expected that.
‘I’ll stay too!’ Nimuel said.
Now that, she expected. ‘No,’ she said, pushing her little brother towards the staircase. ‘This mythie is really dangerous. You need to go upstairs.’
Nimuel folded his arms.
‘He doesn’t need to hide,’ Bayani said to Lintang, who gaped at him. To Nimuel, he said, ‘You’re probably the bravest boy in the village. Go upstairs and find a cooking knife in the priests’ quarters. Then you’ll be able to protect the others. Can you do that?’
Nimuel touched his right fist to his temple, then over his heart, the way the soldiers of old used to salute. Then he sprinted across the stone floor and up the stairs, the last one to leave.
Lintang sagged as Nimuel’s pattering footsteps faded. ‘You’re brilliant.’
‘Thank you,’ Bayani said, frowning as the clicking persisted. ‘It wasn’t this loud last time.’
‘I know. Strange, isn’t it?’ She led Bayani to the entrance.
The temple was a mess. Benches stood haphazardly from when the adults had rushed to follow Lintang’s mother; half-finished cups of water sat around, forgotten; the platter of salted peanuts now lay smashed on the muddy floor. Rain continued to splatter the stone steps, and thunder rumbled beneath the clicking.
Ramadel eyed them as they drew nearer. ‘Elder Wulan told you to go upstairs.’
Elder Wulan smiled tightly and said in Vierse, ‘Lintang is not one for following instructions.’
