by A F Stewart
Evan sucked in a breath. “Bones?” He frowned, his attention distracted. “Are you sure it was bones? As in dead men? Skeletons?”
“He didn’t say exactly, but I believe that was his meaning, yes. Does that ring a bell, Evan? Do you know something?”
“I may. It might be nothing, but recently I was commissioned to do a bit of research—Wait.” He held up a hand and leapt to his feet. “It would probably be best to show you. Give me a moment.” Then he rushed from the room, to return a few minutes later with an open book in his hand. “Here it is.” He placed the book down in front of Rafe. “Creighton’s Book of Monsters. There is a small section, starting with this passage.” He tapped a page. “It’s an old poem, a warning not to inter a man at sea. It may be the basis of the old sailor’s legend. You know the one, that superstition some sailors have about sea burial.”
Rafe pulled the book closer, and read the passage:
Below the light,
Asleep in the night,
Ashetus waits for the drowned.
The dead he collects,
their bones will protect,
Ashetus, their lord and master.
Cast not the dead,
down to the sea,
Lest they rise to serve Ashetus.
Please give them their rest,
Not under the sea.
Oh, let their dead bones be.
“It does seem similar to the tales I’ve heard from sailors and sea burial, but who is this Ashetus? I’ve never heard of such a being.”
“I don’t know much myself, but I think he is mentioned in a few very old legends, where he was depicted as a vicious sea monster or something similar. This book is just a collection of bits and pieces. I’m not even certain how much is accurate. But turn the page. There is an illustration.”
Rafe flipped the page to see a drawing of a great beast with a bulbous head, six eyes, a long body ending in a fish tail, and ten tentacles. It also had a great, round mouth full of sharp teeth.
“It looks like a cross between the Kraken and a Sea Wyrm. But what does this Ashetus legend have to do with the bones of dead men drowning sailors and wrecking ships?”
“According to another passage in the book, supposedly from a scrap of an ancient legend, this sea creature keeps the bones of those who are buried at sea as his servants. He sends them out to find living people and drown them, bringing back the corpses for him to eat.”
“Well, he sounds like a delightful fellow.” Rafe closed the book with a thud and set it on the table. “It doesn’t seem very credible, though, that this—this forgotten beast has somehow, suddenly reappeared? Bones and skeletons notwithstanding.”
“True. But it is an odd coincidence. And that’s not all. You know I keep my ear to the ground, and, lately, I’ve hearing of a few odd stories about the dead rising from the depths. Normally, I wouldn’t pay heed, but with my commission, I’ve been wondering if...” He let the rest of his sentence hang. “Things feel so strange lately. A few months ago, the events with the Moon Goddess wouldn’t have seemed credible, or possible.”
“But—but...” Rafe stopped talking, his thoughts churning. He wanted to say that it was impossible, but Evan could be right. Such a word might not apply these days. He stared at his friend. “Who hired you, Evan? To do your research?”
Evan picked up his book, hugging the volume to his chest, and ignored Rafe’s question. “Maybe I’m wrong. Reading into things. You know I do that sometimes. Maybe it’s not so terrible, maybe it’s simply someone using magic, resurrecting the dead. It just seemed so similar.” He tried to sound reassuring but failed.
“You didn’t answer me, Evan.” Rafe pressed the issue, sure his friend was hiding something. “Perhaps, you are wrong, but we can’t discount the possibility there is a connection. Who hired you?”
“I—I can’t...” Evan hesitated, reluctant to speak. “What I know, it’s not...I can’t. But the source of this information, where I was told to look, that stems from the Society of the Shadow Guard.”
“That old magic guild?” In his surprise, Rafe let Evan’s vague answer go unchallenged.
“Yes, but not just old. They still exist today. They like to preserve ancient lore.” Evan chewed on his lip. “They also like to keep their secrets.”
“A bit like you.” Rafe frowned, with still a hint of question and confrontation in his words.
“Perhaps.” Evan took a step back. “I could say much the same of you.”
Rafe sighed, studying Evan’s face. He knew his friend well enough to realize he would not reveal any names. So Rafe only added, “I need to know more about this Ashetus. Do you have any more information on him?”
Evan shook his head. “I just found the one book and very little in that. But you could try Red Bay on Crickwell Island. The old museum and library there have an extensive collection of archaic books on island folklore. I’ve been trying to get a look at it for years, but can’t get an invitation.” Evan sighed and Rafe heard the envy in his voice. “They may open their doors for you, though.”
They may indeed. Lord Merrill might be able to help with that as well.
Rafe smiled and nodded his thanks. “I appreciate the help, Evan. I’ll take my leave now.” Rafe rose, but Evan touched his arm.
“It was good to see you again. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.” Evan withdrew his hand from Rafe’s arm. “Just be careful. I hope we’re wrong, but if not, good luck, old friend.”
“Thank you.” Rafe turned still wondering what Evan wasn’t telling him and left the cottage. He headed back down the path to Abersythe and his ship.
On his return to the harbour a short time later—after a quick stop to send a message to Lord Merrill—the unpleasant sight of the Navy of the Royal Court ship, The Sea’s Favour, greeted him. He scowled at the vessel, Pelham’s ship, only two berths over from the Jewel. Waiting on the dock, blocking his way to the Celestial Jewel, stood the commander. Rafe sighed and veered left, making to skirt around the unpleasant naval officer, but Pelham moved with him, deliberately getting in his way, obviously spoiling for a confrontation. Rafe glared, grinding his teeth, and stopped. If Pelham wanted words, he’d oblige.
“Kindly get out of my way, Pelham. I don’t have time for your bullying nonsense today.”
Rafe’s aggressive stance seemed to startle Pelham, but he recovered quickly. “I’ve come to warn you, Captain. To stay far away from the matter of the Coral Rose. The Royal Navy will be salvaging her and dealing with that preposterous story told by that sailor Reeves. He’s obviously lying, and I aim to bring him in and have the truth from him.” Pelham sneered. “And I want you out of Abersythe when I do. There’ll be none of your nonsense or interference.”
Rafe smiled, a grin almost as wide as the sea itself. “Lord Merrill might have something to say about your plans, Commander.” He spoke softly, his voice full of amusement. “Merrill has taken charge of Reeves and his care, and he won’t be pleased with your plans to question him. Nor will he care for your useless orders to keep me away from the Coral Rose tragedy. In fact, he’s commissioned me to look into the matter.” Rafe leaned forward, adding a touch of menace to his voice. “So take your pompous pronouncements and choke on your words, Commander. I’m quite tired of your vendetta.”
The look of outrage and shock on Pelham’s face made any misgivings Rafe felt over his bargain with Merrill vanish in a burst of smug satisfaction. The captain chuckled as Pelham’s face flushed red, but his laughter broke at Pelham’s burst of temper.
“Why you, sea snake!” Screaming like a madman, Pelham took a swing at Rafe, but his fist hit empty air as Rafe dodged. The captain stuck out his foot and Commander Pelham went facedown onto the docks, landing with a thud on the old wood.
“Stay down, Commander.” Rafe cautioned. “Everyone is watching and you are dangerously close to overstepping your naval authority. Right now we can leave this between us, but if you get up, it will not end well for you.”
“Of course not, Pelham, you haven’t the sense for that.”
Rafe turned on his heel and walked to his ship, whistling an old sea shanty.
Chapter Four
Dreams and Bones
IN THE DARK VOID, SHE sat, cross-legged, her eyes closed. Old words whispered from her tongue, words taught to her by her father, Reis, Sovereign of the Gods. Spells to pierce the veil between realms, to gain sight beyond worlds, beyond gods, beyond time. In her home, her sanctuary, Bevire used those words to find a power older than the Seven Kingdoms and the Outer Islands, older than the After World and her family, as old as the creatures dwelling in the Archipelago of Nightfall.
She sought answers to questions she never asked.
She sought the beast she had awakened.
Around her, the shadows shimmered, slowly parting inch by inch, swirling down into the sea. In her mind, she followed, sinking below the waves, past her sister Lynna’s realm, past the site where Manume’s children slept. Falling, sinking deeper into the dark, into the cold, out of the mortal world into a hidden place that even the sea itself refused to name.
And there she saw it. The great beast. A gasp escaped her disembodied lips, and it turned its head. It stared at her with six red eyes.
A screeching caw snapped the vision and she open her eyes to the black of her home. She heard the flap of wings and a voice. The Nightmare Crow.
“Naughty, naughty. Shouldn’t spy on Ashetus. Leave it be, Goddess. What’s done is done.”
“Not yet!” Bevire reached out into her darkness towards the Crow.
RAFE AWOKE WITH A START, the dream jolting him from his sleep. His heart raced and his breath came fast. He could feel the fear in his blood and his magic lit his sleeping quarters in a soft blue radiance. He closed his eyes and calmed himself, slowing his breathing, letting his power fade. But the faint images of the unsettling dream remained.
Six red eyes and darkness...and a woman. Someone familiar, but I can’t...can’t remember.
He tried to hold on to the visions, but they faded out like morning fog meeting the midday sun, shadows of what he originally experienced. Only the fear remained, and the persistent thought that death was rising to feast on the Outer Islands. He took another breath to steady his nerves and threw off the bedcovers.
No sense trying to sleep now.
Rafe dressed, unsteady fingers buttoning his shirt and jacket, and walked out on the deck. A few of the crew were sprawled on the main deck, sleeping under the stars. He quietly manoeuvred his way around the men and climbed to the quarterdeck. He came upon Mouse who stood by the rail, staring at the harbour. The lad jumped back, a guilty look plastered across his face.
“Begging your pardon, Captain. I know I shouldn’t be up here—”
“At ease, sailor.” Rafe cut off Mouse’s apology. “No need to explain. It’s the best view on the ship, especially at night.” Rafe glanced out at the town. “Abersythe looks so peaceful, doesn’t it? With just a scattering of lights flickering in the darkness.”
“Aye, sir. Like little beacons of warmth. Of home.”
Rafe leaned against the rail next to his crewman. “Do you miss it, being ashore, being one of the living?”
“Sometimes, but being dead on this ship ain’t that different. And I have friends, a place to belong. Never had that alive.” Mouse sighed. “I do miss the taste of stewed pie though. My Granny made one that would melt in your mouth and warm your gullet. I miss that, I sure do.”
Rafe smiled, and some of his tension eased. “It sounds like something worth missing.”
“It is, sir.” Mouse fell silent and then blurted, “Are we in for it again, sir? Crew’s been talking. Finding the Rose unsettled us.”
Rafe ran a finger along the wood of the rail. “I believe we are, Mouse. I hope I’m wrong, but something terrible may be coming.” Rafe watched the lad shiver and added. “No use worrying about it tonight. We both should get some sleep. Provisions will be arriving in the morning to load and we’ll be setting sail for Crickwell Island soon.”
Rafe patted Mouse on the shoulder and returned below decks.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Rafe stifled a yawn as he listened to Blackthorne. Despite his words to Mouse, further sleep had eluded him.
“The ship’s stores arrived and are now all stowed in the hold despite the grumblings of the dock crew and the delivery men. The looks I received overseeing the shipment...I wanted to box the ears of every one of them! And two of our men were turned away at the Jolly Dog where they’ve been drinking for two years. The town’s blaming us for the Coral Rose. You should hear some of the nonsense floating about. So much for Lord Merrill’s supposed influence.”
“Give him time, Blackthorne. You can’t expect attitudes to change all at once. Besides, Pelham and his lot are in town. No doubt they’re responsible for stirring up the rumours. After our altercation, he’s likely more determined to smear our good name.”
“I heard about that.” Blackthorne smiled. “I wish I had seen him fall on his face. The man represents all that’s wrong with the Navy of the Royal Court.”
“That was his own fault. He did not take the news about Lord Merrill’s support well.”
“Something good came out of our alliance then.”
“More than one thing. Merrill got my message and sent one this morning in return. He sent word ahead to the Red Bay museum. They should be expecting us. Are we ready to set sail to Crickwell Island?”
“Yes, sir. I think the harbour crews will be well glad to be rid of us.” Blackthorne pursed his lips, but continued, “What do we hope to find there, sir? An odd place to go looking for monsters or magic, if I may say.”
“Not if the thing we’re looking for has been forgotten by most and only a remnant is left in legends and stories.” Rafe leaned forward. “Do you know the old sailors’ tale? The superstition of burying the dead at sea?”
“Vaguely, sir.”
“Apparently it’s based on an old tale, Blackthorne, one that tells of a beast living far deep under the sea. A creature that feeds on the flesh of drowned corpses. And when the bodies are picked clean, it resurrects their bones to attend its needs.”
“A gruesome fable. Is that what we’re dealing with? Some forgotten monster come to life? Do you think the story is true?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this story, save for the old superstition. I mean, Lynna rules the sea and she’s never heard nor seen such a creature.” Rafe paused, glancing at Blackthorne who stared back with a look of consternation. “Yet, now I wonder. What if it exists? If there is a beast so ancient, so powerful that it can hide from the gods?”
“That is a troubling thought.”
“Indeed. That’s why we sail to Red Bay. We need to know more of this beast, whether we’re chasing foolish whims or something monstrous.” Rafe closed his eyes, grim thoughts dashing around his head.
“Are we heading out straight away, sir?” Blackthorne’s voice pulled his attention back. “Lord Merrill is holding his memorial for the Coral Rose crew this afternoon. He’s asked us to be in port.”
Rafe opened his eyes, a frown on his face. “Is that wise, given the current state of things?”
“Perhaps not, but our men knew the crew of the Rose and have as much right to pay their respects and say their farewells as anyone. We’ve done nothing wrong. We shouldn’t have to slink around and hide.” He paused then added, “I don’t think any Navy of the Royal Court sailors will be there.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“Navy ships went out this morning, though not Pelham’s, damn the luck. Word is, they are salvaging the Coral Rose. If they can’t repair her enough to bring the ship home, they’ll recover her goods and sink her. The Sea’s Favour is the only Navy ship left in port, an
d I don’t see Lord Merrill extending an invitation to that crew.”
Rafe pursed his lips, his better judgment telling him to refuse permission, but then let out a sigh. “Any man wanting to pay his respects can go.”
“I think the men will be glad to hear it.” Blackthorne tilted his head. “Will you be going, sir? The men will expect it.”
“I know.” Another sigh. “I’ll make an appearance at least, but if there’s ill will I won’t stay.”
“Fair enough, sir.” Blackthorne lowered his head for a moment, before giving Rafe a hard stare. “There’s something else, isn’t there, sir? Something that kept you up last night?”
Rafe blinked, a bit taken aback at his first officer’s direct question. “You should have been a spy, Blackthorne. No secrets are safe around you.”
Blackthorne grinned. “Can’t help it, sir, if I’m excellent at my duty.”
“That you are, and you are correct. There is something else. I had a dream, a vision, perhaps. Images and thoughts I can’t quite recollect save for red eyes, fear, and the certainty that death is coming for us.”
“That doesn’t bode well. Will we be sailing to see the new Oracle? After Red Bay? If you’re having visions?”
Rafe shook his head. “Not yet.”
Blackthorne rose to his feet, waiting to be dismissed. “If that’s all, Captain, I’ll return topside and inform the crew about the memorial.”
“Not quite, Blackthorne. I’d like to know what you aren’t telling me.” Rafe smiled at the flicker of surprise on his first mate’s face. “You accepted my tales of ancient beasts and superstitions too readily. Even for you. Why?”
“Well, sir, on this ship I would never discount the possibility of anything.” Rafe chuckled as Blackthorne continued. “And I’ve heard similar talk around the docks since we put into port. Reeves’ tale has gotten out, and some have said they’ve seen similar things. Fishermen and sailors saying that they’ve encountered strange waves heaving out of the sea and then disappearing. Waves topped with a peculiar looking sea foam. One man claims he saw a skeletal hand rise from one of the waves. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, whether these stories were true or just parroted talk. But it could be that the Coral Rose wasn’t the first incident.”
