by Richard Nell
"I go where the shaman goes, Captain," the girl said bravely. Chang smiled politely and said nothing. The captain continued to watch him, then turned away without another word. Chang waited several strides before he called after him.
"On that point, Captain, I've been wondering—where exactly does the good pilot go? My nose tells me there is a storm coming from the West. Perhaps we should wait on the coast."
Eka looked out at the sky as if without a care in the world, though already it swelled with dark clouds.
"We won't be stopping anymore, Chief," he said. "Were I you, I'd make sure the girl learns how to secure herself. If she goes overboard, the pilot may throw us both in to get her. He's not much of a swimmer."
"As you say, Captain." Chang bowed, then turned to the girl to find her eyes hiding fear. When the captain had gone, he whispered. "Not to worry, Macha. Chang is very good with rope." He then waggled his eyebrows, but by her blank expression, she had missed his joke entirely.
Chapter 5
As the captain promised, they sailed straight into the storm. Zaya went with the increasingly agitated Chang, who told her to wait while he spoke with his men in the hold. She listened at the top of the stairs, and heard muttering about madness and bad luck and an ill-fated journey without a sacrifice. "There's a woman aboard!" rasped a voice. "And the damned pilot's a monster himself."
Chang soothed all. His smoky voice rose and fell and made promises and assurances, and soon they came from the hold with fake smiles and bows. Chang clapped her on the arm like a man as he pointed to the mast.
"Alright, Macha. Let us see what you know."
She followed and did her best, but they both quickly learned the answer. Chang smiled politely at her fifth failure to tie a simple knot.
"So," he said, "you are very green."
"Yes," she admitted, feeling blood heat her face. "I've never lived on the sea." She wanted to explain that her parents were wealthy and that she'd never had to do much save for her music and around the house. "But I can cook and clean," she added, rather lamely, which did not help with the blush.
Chang's swarthy smile matched the glimmer in his eye. "Not to fear, Macha. I will teach you many things."
As usual she detected the lewd undertone and ignored it. The man was handsome—in a dirty scoundrel sort of way. But he was too confident and aggressive by far, and nearly his every word and gesture made her uncomfortable. She suspected if he ever touched her the way he spoke to her, she'd break his nose as soon as smile.
"The Captain says you must replace our Swabbie, and so you must. On a ship, the captain is God, neh? You're a mate now, responsible for many things, and I am your chief. The captain orders me, and I order you. When you are given orders, this is not the time to ask questions, it is the time to obey. You hear your chief, you act. Understand?"
Zaya nodded, and Chang smiled.
"Much happens on a ship and things must be clear. You say 'aye, chief', or 'ka, chief'."
"Aye, chief," Zaya said, feeling silly.
"Very good. We'll make a sailor of you, have no fear. But not today. Today this is yours." Chang lifted a bucket from a cluster beside the mast. He stepped beside her and looped a rope around her waist, knotting it several times with such speed Zaya couldn't even follow with her eyes. He tied the other end to the mast and gestured to the hold. "When the rain comes, Macha, you take your bucket, you scoop the water, and fling it from the side. You do this until your chief tells you to stop, but you move careful. You stay near the wall, always. It will be slippery, and dark, and the deck will angle back and forth, understand?"
"Aye, chief," Zaya said, hoping she kept the tremble from her voice.
Chang nodded and stepped away, barking at another man in an almost gibberish version of the island tongue, too accented and quick for Zaya to follow. She stood there feeling ridiculous, holding her bucket and watching the darkness grow.
She watched Ruka as he tied several barrels to the masts beneath the sails, then stood at the front of the ship, ignoring the scrambling of the crew. He had hardly spoken to her, or anyone, since she'd joined the ship. Dark bruises had formed under his eyes, as if he had hardly slept since the day he rescued her. The Captain, Eka, stood near him, stealing glances at both Ruka and the crew.
As she watched them, Zaya began to feel entirely out of place. The sailors were moving faster now, taking down sail and stowing everything with rope or tucking into nets or down into the hold. She wanted to help but felt she'd only be in the way. She stood with her bucket, questioning her own story of finding this ship and whether it was fate or just dumb luck and no closer to the truth of the epic tales.
The first drops of rain felt cool in the warm wind. The sailors seemed to stop together without a word, all eyes turned to the sky as if reading a book Zaya couldn't understand. It grew dark, then darker still as the rain fell fast and hard. Lightning flashed in the distance, revealing a swollen sea like a moving desert of black dunes. As she watched it in terror, Zaya felt further from home than she had ever been, lodged in a dream world that only existed when the lightning fell. Soon there was only the sound of the wind and the waves.
Chang's voice woke her from her reverie. Whether it had been a few heartbeats or half the night, she did not know.
"Start bailing!" his rasping shout covered the ship. Zaya closed her hands around the iron loop on her bucket. She followed the wall down below, soon sloshing water with her boots and finding men doing the same. She scooped with her pail, which was heavier than she expected, then tromped up the stairs, following the swaying deck with her shoulder against the wall of the cabin. With a grunting heave, she tossed it overboard, then turned back to do it again.
Every lumbering, awkward trek down and up was difficult. Soon she had thrown five, then ten, then she slipped and fell hard to the deck and lost count. Once or twice she heard Chang's voice to hurry up and she cried out 'aye, chief', but moved no faster. She heard him call others by their made-up names but never hers, so she carried on. Her arms began to tremble at the weight, her fingers slipping on the slick wood, once or twice spilling the water on the deck with a cry, only to turn back and try again.
Her legs went next, cramping and threatening to fail her on the stairs, then on the moving deck. She tripped twice over her rope. She bashed headlong into one of the crew, and was shouldered away many times in the dark. Sometimes she had to lean against the wall and rest, nearly weeping from exhaustion. But she remembered Chang's words. She stayed on the wall, she watched her feet. She took smaller amounts of water but she didn't stop. She never stopped.
Later, much later, there was light. Chang's voice rose with the dawn, like a bird of paradise greeting the sun.
"All hands rest," he shouted, his voice hoarse but strong. Zaya slumped against the wood that had meant life. She held her bucket in numb fingers as she squinted at the sky, and slept where she lay.
* * *
"You did well, Macha," said Zaya's father by their hearth.
He gave his warm, black bearded smile, but his voice was wrong as he stroked her forehead with a callused thumb. "Roa swam, spirits curse him. But he didn't find us. Not today."
She smiled, and slept, and later she heard him hum and sing, but his voice was mist in cool night air, and she fought the heavy lids of her eyes.
When she woke it was in a cabin, her legs covered with a cloth blanket. Watery rum and some salted pork lay beside her in bowls, and she took eagerly to both. Her raw hands trembled on the cup, the strength in her fingers nearly gone. She realized the singing from her dream had not ended.
Men's voices sang in harmony, and she stood with a groan on aching, feet, her back lancing with pain. She opened her door and found Chang beside it in a wicker chair, the crew awake and working. Some cleaned and scrubbed, others sealed off barrels set out in the rain, or picked scattered supplies and bailed water. Others fussed over the sails, or sat at the edges of the hull with oars. Chang sat and watched all, singing a rythm
ic sort of chant that the men answered, back and forth.
'We'll row-y-o.'
'No carry me below!'
'We'll row-y-o.'
'No carry me below!'
'We'll row-y-o!
'No carry me below!'
'Then we'll all hang down the line!'
Zaya leaned against the cabin as she listened and watched them work shirtless in the sun. Chang smiled when he saw her, clapping a man on the back before he leapt up the deck and took Zaya's arm.
"Good morning, Macha. No time for idleness, there's work to be done."
She nodded though her body sagged in horror, and the man Chang had tapped sang in a strong, practiced voice, in his place, answered as one again by the crew.
'We'll be all-right.'
'If we make it round the isles!'
'We'll be all-right.'
'If we make it 'round the isles!'
'We'll be all-right!'
'If we make it 'round the isles!'
'Till we all hang down the line!'
Chang took her to the furthest edge of the deck where a pile of rope seemed laid out for practice. As the men sang he showed her a 'bowline' knot, and a 'figure eight', and a cleat and a clove, an anchor and a square. He showed her where to tie off in a hurry, where the water left the deck and how to open or close it, until Zaya's head spun and he left her to tie her own knots.
All day the islanders sang and worked. It was as if the long night and storm hadn't phased nor slowed them, as if their hands and bodies were made of stone. They slept in turns, and ate in turns, never leaving the ship with less than a handful of working men.
Zaya collapsed much earlier in her bunk to rest to the sound of their voices, then woke to them. Again Chang left her food and water and she found him outside her door, grinning as he saw her.
"I receive special treatment," she said awkwardly, and the pirate chief shrugged.
"You are special, Macha. Not to worry. All are born on land, save for your loyal chief, whose mother was a sea snake. But we'll make a sailor of you yet."
Zaya nodded, then followed him to her hated pile of rope, beginning again with fumbling hands. When Chang left she looked out on the empty sea, blue now and a perfect line in all directions, no trace of the night's violence, or a single speck of land. She hummed as the men sang, too shy yet to raise her voice with theirs.
She worked all day and nearly cheered as her hands tied her first bowline correctly twice in a row. Though she was weak she could still manage, and felt a warmth at the beginnings of competence.
"Very good," said Chang from behind her, as if he'd sensed the moment of success, before wandering off to some other man to bark orders.
Zaya kept at it, sometimes humming or adding her own words to the simple but beautiful verses of the sailor's songs. She tied a hundred knots and for a long time didn't think of where they were going or why, nor of her family or her mother's disapproval.
Much later, Chang came and sat beside her and smiled without words, gesturing at the horizon. Together they watched the sun set, and Zaya saw the orange light consume the world, spilled like paint across an endless blue canvas, reflected in a mirrored sky. She felt as if she floated, alone but not lonely, lost in something true and beautiful and so much greater than her. Next to it, her own desires and problems, hopes and fears, felt suddenly insignificant. Almost silly.
"You see it." Chang's dark eyes were glazed as if with a drug, his face angled as if he heard music on the waves.
"Yes," said Zaya, because she did, and Chang nodded and smiled with his thick lips.
"As I said," he sighed, "we'll make a sailor of you yet." With that he rose and tossed the last bit of rum from his cup to the sea. "For Roa," he winked, then turned away, humming as he went below, leaving Zaya alone with the night, and the sea.
Chapter 6
A beast roared as the sun fell.
Zaya flinched on the rail, ripped from her peaceful reverie and the beauty of the open sea. She waited, trying to understand, or hear it again, but there was no new sounds from the water, and she couldn't tell where the noise had come from, or even how close it was. Then it roared again.
The sound was deep, beastial, a half painful moan, half challenging shout. And it was close, not even in the water. It was on the ship.
Zaya turned to see several of the crew awake and panicking on the deck. They spun back and forth, wide eyes staring at the Eastern cabin, then at each other, seeking anyone who had an answer. Zaya stepped closer, a fearful sweat prickling her skin in the warm night air.
"What from the hells…?" Chang came roaring shirtless from below. The men calmed in his presence, in turns pointing at Ruka's cabin at the far side of the ship. Zaya was almost glad for the distraction as her eyes roamed Chang's dark and scar-slathered skin. A series of lighter colored lines crossed his back, framing thick muscle like the grooves of a brick wall. She blinked as the roar sounded again, this time followed by a crash as the cabin wall shook.
The captain was suddenly before the door and facing the crew, his hands raised for calm.
"A nightmare, gentlemen. Go back to your rest. There's nothing to fear."
Another crash split the night, and even the captain flinched as wood splintered from the side of the cabin.
"Spirits preserve us," said one of the men, some kind of charm held tight in his fist as he stepped away. Chang stared hard at the captain.
"What's wrong with him? What is he? Dear gods that voice!"
As if on cue, a roar again shattered the still night. This time the cabin door burst from its hinge, and half the crew cried out and fled as Ruka staggered from his room. He dropped to a knee before the assembled crew, shirtless, huge yet lean body of muscled bone angled like a beast on the hunt, hands covering his face.
Behind him, flickering in the moonlight, a shadow loomed. Great black wings seemed to sprout from its back, skeletal arms extended with jagged claws. It was darker than the night save for two red spots that must have been eyes, leaking smoke like chimneys.
Ruka's face contorted. His body heaved as he clutched at his sides, until at last he looked at the men and opened his mouth, eyes wide in fear, speaking a single word in an almost whispering rasp.
"Run."
* * *
"Down to the hold! Now!" Chang grabbed Old Mata and pushed him ahead, then spun and looked for Zaya. She still held her rope at the edge of the rail, gawking with the rest at the giant. "Go!" he seized her arm and yanked her towards the hold, which seemed to knock her to her senses.
His men were scattering across the deck in panic but rallied at his voice. Chang left Zaya at the stairs and tried not to look back, but couldn't stop himself. He glanced again at the barbarian pilot, who grasped at his own flesh as if trying to contain something within.
"Go you damned fool gawking bastards!" Chang pushed more men below as they reached him, still unable to look away. The captain was circling the giant pilot with a blade tucked against his forearm.
"Ruka?" he called calmly above the din. "Tell me what to do."
Then it was only Chang, Eka and apparently Zaya, all standing on the deck with the monster. The rest of the crew jammed themselves below, hopefully trying to seal the entrance with crates and oars.
"Damnit, Macha," Chang said, not sure why he himself hadn't run down screaming. Her jaw was clenched and apparently she'd found a spear.
"I have to see."
Ruka's groans continued, a deep, inhuman sound that bellowed like a dozen beasts locked in mortal peril. Chang pulled the knife from his belt and stepped forward, locking eyes with Eka. The captain shook his head but shrugged at the same time.
Finally the roaring ended. Ruka rose looking sick and even paler than usual.
"I think it's over," he mumbled, swaying on his feet.
His shadow seemed to disagree. It stepped from the cabin wall, nearly the size of the giant, emerging from the man like darkness made flesh. A small golden chain bound its ankle to the
pilot, the metal glowing as if hot, disappearing into the pilot with a ghostly pallor. The creature snarled and dashed forward, clawed feet clattering across the hull as it charged straight at Eka.
Zaya acted first. With two long strides she met the creature just as Eka leapt from its path and struck. The metal tip pierced its body, and an acrid stench filled Chang's nostrils. The nightmarish creature howled and snapped the spear shaft as if it were a toy, turning on Zaya before Eka's knife plunged deep into its back. With a howl of rage, the creature spun and slashed its claws, black blood oozing from its wounds, but the captain leapt away.
Chang rushed to Zaya's side though he knew this was all madness. He thrust his knife into the shadow, and it swiped a gangly arm without looking. He fell back just avoiding the frightening claws.
Finally, Ruka seemed to blink awake, and rise. He was unarmed, but he grabbed the creature's head in his huge hands and wrestled it to the deck. Zaya seized the broken piece of her spear and attacked again, ramming it into the creature's leg. Chang followed, slicing and spraying the wretched blood in arcs across the deck.
The shadow roared in fury, trying to push Ruka away, long arms waving fumbling slashes that once or twice raked his back with shallow cuts.
"Kill it!" Eka was stabbing with abandon, Zaya and Chang attempting to do the same, though every wound seemed to accomplish little more than spill more darkness over their arms.
The giant pilot pulled his 'shadow' close—foolishly close, considering the creature's row of sharpened teeth. Chang feared the creature would rip a chunk from his face with its teeth, but Ruka bit it instead. He lunged for the creature's throat, chomping and rending the shadow as they both tumbled to the deck. Chang stepped away and pulled Zaya with him, feeling his arms burning slightly from the oil-slick blood. The shadow thrashed, and stilled, and soon all that remained was the sound of Ruka's chewing.
