Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space)

by Catherine Lundoff

  “It’s a glass whale,” Benj sighed.

  “We thought they were all extinct.” Tears shimmered in Colombia’s beard. “Gone to the skies with their kraken-cousins.”

  Agnes whirled around the undulating glass whale, tentacles describing things too large and delicate for rodents and mers to understand.

  Cinrak too took a moment to enjoy being alive. Her ship had survived, though some of the sails and her green silk vest were tatters. At the beautiful sight of lovers reunited, the crew danced and wept, the mers slapped their tails and sang. Benj watched on with a beatific smile bending his whiskers, paws clenching and unclenching in time to the tentacular spectacular.

  Cinrak waited. She had spent a long time searching for the Heart of the Ocean, but Agnes had spent much longer away from her beloved. A few more moments before the jewel was in her hands wouldn’t matter.

  With a relenting, soft arrrooooggghhh, the glass whale allowed Agnes to wrap her arms around them. The embrace was so delicate and loving for such huge beasts, stray tears on her furry cheeks caught Cinrak by surprise.

  Benj grinned. “Agnes says their name is still Xolotli.”

  Cinrak paused in winding a rope. “Still?”

  Colombia sucked his whiskers. Something like comprehension snuck thief-like across his face. “I think...it would change if something was taken away from here.”

  “The Heart,” Cinrak nodded. “That makes sense. They be the guardian of the jewel.”

  An upward lilting arroogh. An affirmation. Did the whale understand rodent tongue?

  “Get to it, ye lot,” Cinrak coughed. “We needin’ to be ship shape so we be figurin’ how to get back up top.”

  The crew were sluggish to turn away from the sight of the wondrous reunion between the beasts, but to their credit, they held fast to their IRATE values: ship first.

  “Alright. I guess there bein’ a cave or a chest or a pedestal round here,” Cinrak murmured to Benj and Riddle.

  “It’s in a chest...” The cabin boy started to say, and that was all Cinrak needed. She sent Riddle scampering to launch the captain’s sculler.

  “But, ser,” Benj tried again, tugging on her arm.

  Cinrak frowned him into silence. “We’ve upheld our end of the bargain, now it be Agnes’ turn.”

  “No! You can’t!” Benj blurted, front teeth showing. He was perilously close to insubordination.

  “We problee do’na be havin’ much time, Benj. Now the anger an’ magic of them hundreds-a years be dissipatin’, that drain’ll collapse in on itself. We do’na wanna be here when that happens.”

  But Benj planted his feet and folded his arms, whiskers aquiver. “No!”

  Cinrak’s nostrils flared. “Benj,” she growled, straightening to her full capybara height.

  Benj planted his small self between the captain and the unfurled rope ladder. “You can’t have the Heart!”

  Colombia and the mer scouts gathered at the rail, looking between the unfolding scenes in the not-water and on board. The rest of the crew put their heads down and made busy. They all knew that look on their captain’s face.

  “This ain’t a negotiation,” Cinrak growled. “Agnes promised.”

  “To lead you to the Heart, not let you cut it out of the ocean!” Benj was on the verge of tears, but to his credit he stood his ground. Cinrak would keep that in mind when she decided his punishment.

  Chest puffed, Cinrak stepped face to face with the cabin boy. “I ain’t arguing with ye. Under IRATE law, a deal is a deal. You gotta be learnin’ to toughen up that heart a’ yours, boy.”

  A gasp, like a spring breeze across a prickleberry bush. The mers. Propriety be damned, she thought. Cinrak the Dapper’s reputation came as salty as the ocean.

  Forceful in her anger, Cinrak swung about to face the judgment of her mer friends and smacked snout to wet leathery appendage.

  Agnes reared up over the ship, eye apologetic but tentacles an impenetrable wall. Whichever way Cinrak tried to dodge, the tentacle in her face followed.

  Benj placed himself between the tentacle and his captain. “Agnes says you can’t have the Heart of the Ocean.”

  “But she promised!”

  Benj pointed at the now relaxed glass whale blowing curious spouts. Such a sight, water in, water out. “There is your chest with your prize. It is an actual chest. An actual heart!”

  “Oh.” The entirety of the revelation replaced Cinrak’s breath with silence.

  And what a beautiful heart it was. An enormous, scintillating ruby shot through with veins of sapphire and pink diamond. It pumped prodigiously, pushing plasma through the plump pellucid physique.

  “Well.” Cinrak coughed around a plethora of emotions. “We ca’na be puttin’ that in the queen’s crown now, can we?”

  Xolotli had ocean magic to spare. From what Cinrak could ascertain from Benj’s loving burbles, the whirlpool had gotten away from her, the power of the void self-sustaining. Now that she had her love and control back, she deftly broke the bonds on the Edge of the World and let the drain disperse. The Impolite Fortune rode the ocean wall up and up, supported again by the soft weight of Agnes’ tentacles.

  The strange star-like lights sunk back into the depths, embraced by the void like an impenetrable night flipped on its head. Cinrak’s heart wanted to flow with them. It made her feel so small and yet so large at the same time. The stars still had lessons to teach her.

  Upon reaching the surface, the mers began whistling in excitement. The dissipation of the water walls had revealed the submerged archipelago. The mer quickly rescued gaping fish and set to exploring the seaweed-draped ruins.

  While the crew and mers fussed over the persistence of their respective homes, Benj sat atop the highest point on the main island, silent and strong as a masthead. Agnes and Xolotli swum excited circles around each other and the islands. With The Bruise gone and the ocean calm, the tableau glittered iridescent beneath the excited Moth and Paper Moons and stars.

  Cinrak approached her cabin boy carefully, forepaws crossed across her broad chest. “I, yuh, have come teh apologize.”

  The wee chinchilla’s eyes widened at the unexpected opening. “Why? You’re the captain. You make calls as you see fit.”

  “But I didna listen to ye. I bin so focused on my reward, agin. I wouldna ever be hurtin’ a creature to take what I be needin’ or wantin’. ‘Specially one so beautiful as Xolotli.”

  A wistful sigh escaped between Benj’s whiskers. “They are that.” Belatedly, he stood and snapped a salute, fur making a damp little squish beneath his fist. “But in the end, you failed to get what you promised.”

  “Neh.” Cinrak shrugged. “Ye learn to make the best o’ a situation. I found the Edge of the Earth, tamed the great whirlpool, and reunited lovers. That in itself will be makin’ a great epic I can sell to the bards for years ta come. An’ look. The mers have found a part of their lost home. They be happy too.”

  “But what about the queen’s crown? Won’t she be mad?”

  “She’ll get over it. ‘Sides, sometimes I be thinkin’ a jewel ain’t what make a leader great. Orvillia is a good woman, but she be needin’ to find her own heart, an’ not be takin’ it from the ocean. Or the land.”

  Benj stared at his captain, open-mouthed. Cinrak chuckled and slapped him on the back. “Eh, let me be tellin’ you ‘bout ogre socialism sometime, young kit.”

  Agnes forestalled any further brusque sentimentality by rising high in the water, tentacles flailing as the mers whistled and laughed.

  “What be botherin’ her now?” Cinrak asked.

  “Well, er, she has a gift for you, ser.”

  “Does she now.”

  Agnes swam as close as she dared and Cinrak clambered down the slippery rocks to greet her. “This gift better not be a hug,” she grumbled.

  Agnes unfurled a leathery fist, the tip ending perfectly before Cinrak’s blunt snout. Balanced on the tip of the tentacle was a jewel the size of Cinrak’s fi
st, striated with perfect sweet rosiness, a flash of diamond star, and a blue as dark as the deepest ocean. It smelled like the crackle-taste of stars.

  “She says...oh.” Benj gasped sweetly. “It’s a piece of whalefall from the deepest trench. It’s been down there for so long the pressure of the water and remnants of its sky cousins have rendered it into something new.”

  “Like pieces of the earth deep in the earth,” Colombia said, coming closer to inspect the proffered gift.

  “Whale goop and star poop,” Benj giggled.

  “A piece of dead whale turned jewel,” Cinrak breathed, touching a claw tip to the stone. Sure enough, it tingled like the star had tingled beneath her thighs when she rode it. “How marvelous. I never be thinkin’ of such a thing. Are ye sure?”

  Agnes blinked and shook the tentacle a little, ‘here, take it.’

  Cinrak took the stone and rolled it gently between her forepaws. It gave off a warmth unexplained by the eons spent below in the freezing dark. “What part of the whale it bein’?”

  “Heart,” Benj said.

  An enormous whale heart compacted down to this? Cinrak saluted and bowed to Agnes who waved her tentacles back. “Yer kindness will never be forgotten-” She clicked and slurped her way through the full name.

  She slipped the stone into the Alice pocket of her vest for safekeeping. So, she got her heart after all. Did she deserve it? What had she just said about jewels and crowns and queens? She needed to think on this one.

  The North Wind, having searched frantically all around The Bruise since the ship disappeared, finally found them and blew a warm sigh of relief. Xolotli blew rainbows, the ocean kissed the stones, and the Impolite Fortune groaned through its litany of aches.

  “All aboard!” Cinrak called.

  When she reached the railing, she looked down to find Benj gathered with the mers who were staying to investigate the uncovered islands.

  “Hey!” she called. “It be time to go!”

  From the rise in his now tatty vest and scarf, Cinrak could see Benj was gathering his courage.

  “I think—,” His voice cracked downwards. “I’m staying here. Agnes needs me.”

  Perhaps, Cinrak thought, it was the other way round.

  Benj continued, “The mers need me too.” Colombia slapped him on the shoulder with his long fin and nodded. “What I learned back in Merholm, what I’ve learned from Agnes and Xolotli and my m...magic. My place, for now, is here.”

  There was no use in giving a speech about IRATE duty, but Cinrak gave it anyway, out of duty. Riddle collected Benj’s kit from below deck and threw it down.

  “Not sure how you gonna keep it all dry though!” she laughed.

  “I’ll learn quick,” Benj grinned, saluting the first mate.

  Something pinched hard in Cinrak’s chest. Her own jewel-like heart, dusting off memories of discovering bow ties and girls and ocean delights? Or a little throb of the whale heart hidden in her vest?

  “Take care, ye salty wee scrapper,” Cinrak called as they cast off. “We be back soon, ye can count on that. Not fair ye get to have all the fun! Oh, an’ Benj? I got ye pirate name! A-Benj the Ocean Star!”

  He laughed at the pun. “It’s perfect! Thank you!”

  “Yer welcome.”

  “Give my best to Orvillia and Locqualchi!” Benj roar-squeaked, tears in his eyes.

  “That’s Queen Orvillia to you, young mer-fur,” Colombia chuckled.

  The shimmer of mer and whale song followed the Impolite Fortune for as long as the stars stitched the sky together. As dawn peaked over the horizon and the sun sparkled a yawn, sending the Moth and Paper Moon off to their beds, the glass whale blew one final rainbow salute, and Agnes made intricate signs with her tentacles Cinrak thought she could almost read.

  One more salute to kraken and whale and Cinrak wiped her salty-sweet cheeks dry and turned her snout towards where her two other loves made home.

  About the Contributors

  Award-winning author Ginn Hale lives in the Pacific Northwest with her lovely wife and their wicked cat. She spends the rainy days observing local fungi. The stormy nights, she spends writing science-fiction and fantasy stories featuring LGBT protagonists.

  * * *

  Ashley Deng is a Canadian-born Chinese-Jamaican writer with a love of fantasy and all things Gothic. Currently working through a degree in biochemistry, she spends her spare time overthinking genre fiction and writing. She cycles back to pirates more often than she'd like to admit.

  * * *

  Joyce Chng is Singaporean. They write science fiction, YA and things in between. Joyce is also the co-editor of The Sea is Ours: Tales of Steampunk Southeast Asia. They can be found at @jolantru and A Wolf's Tale (http://awolfstale.wordpress.com).

  * * *

  Ed Grabianowski has worked as a contributing writer for io9 and HowStuffWorks. He's also the singer and lyricist for a rock band called Spacelord. This is the first Jagga story, but not the last.

  * * *

  Mharie West learnt to read with one hand to enable reading while eating, showering, and most other life tasks. She likes writing fantasy, sci-fi and historical fiction. She studied Vikings and Anglo-Saxons at university and blogs about them at https://wordeswif.wordpress.com. “Serpent's Tail” is her second publication.

  * * *

  Megan Arkenberg’s work has appeared in over fifty magazines and anthologies, including Lightspeed, Asimov’s, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Shimmer, and Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year. She has edited the fantasy e-zine Mirror Dance since 2008. She currently lives in Northern California, where she's pursuing a Ph.D. in English literature. Visit her online at http://www.meganarkenberg.com.

  * * *

  A long-time resident of Ottawa, Elliott Dunstan is in the last year of a Classics degree at Carleton University, which ended up being the basis for 'Andromache's War.’ Elliott has been previously published by Battleaxe Press and In/Words Magazine & Press, and has self-published a poetry chapbook.

  * * *

  Geonn Cannon lives in Oklahoma. He is the author of several novels, including the Riley Parra series, which is currently being produced as a webseries for Tello Films. He also writes official tie-in novels for Fandemonium's Stargate SG-1 series. An archive of free stories can be found online at geonncannon.com.

  * * *

  Su Haddrell is a British writer from Worcester, UK. She has had stories published by Fox Spirit and Phrenic Press. In addition to writing, she also plays the drums and organises the UK's only Judge Dredd convention. She loves rum, her cat, her boyfriend and movies where things explode within the first 14 seconds.

  * * *

  Soumya Sundar Mukherjee, an admirer of engaging speculative fiction, is a bi-lingual author from West Bengal, India, writing about stuff strange dreams are made of. His works have appeared/will appear in Occult Detective Quarterly and the anthologies Mother of Invention and Hidden Menagerie, among a few others.

  * * *

  Matisse Mozer is a writer and librarian living in lovely Los Angeles, California. If he’s not writing obviously-anime-influenced stories, he’s probably buying imported action figures, despite his bank account’s protest. He’s also likely to be retweeting memes on Twitter as @thecopperhikari.

  * * *

  Caroline Sciriha lives in Malta, where she works as a Head of Department of English in a Secondary School. She writes fiction—especially fantasy—whenever her day job allows. Her short stories have appeared in anthologies and magazines, including Beyond Steampunk, Mind Candy and New Myths.

  * * *

  Peter Golubock is a teacher, writer, and pie enthusiast. He lives with his family in New Taipei City, Taiwan.

  * * *

  Michael Merriam has published three novels, two collections, and over 90 short stories and poems. His novel Last Car to Annwn Station was named a Top Book in 2011 by Readings in Lesbian & Bisexual Women's Fiction. He lives in Hopkins, MN with his wife and two ridiculous cats. www.mi
chaelmerriam.com

  * * *

  AJ Fitzwater is a dragon wearing a dapper meat-suit living between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. Their words of import can be found in Clarkesworld, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Glittership, Shimmer Magazine, and many other venues of repute. They survived the trial-by-wordfire of Clarion 2014, and is a two time winner Sir Julius Vogel Award winner.

  About the Editor

  Catherine Lundoff is a transplanted Brooklynite who lives in scenic Minnesota with her wife, a fabulously talented bookbinder and artist, and the two cats who own them. In former lives, she was an archaeologist and a bookstore owner, though not at the same time. These days, she does arcane things with computer software at large companies and hangs out at science fiction conventions.

  Her recent works include short stories in Callisto, The Cainite Conspiracies: A Vampire the Masquerade V20 Anthology, The Mammoth Book of the Adventures of Professor Moriarty, The Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper Stories, Respectable Horror and Tales of the Unanticipated, and essays in Nightmare Magazine: Queers Destroy Horror and SF Signal. Her books include Silver Moon and Out of This World: Queer Speculative Fiction Stories and the Goldie Award-winning collections Crave and Night’s Kiss. She has also co-edited or edited two other anthologies: Hellebore and Rue: Tales of Queer Women and Magic (with JoSelle Vanderhooft) and the Spectrum Award-winning anthology Haunted Hearths and Sapphic Shades: Lesbian Ghost Stories. www.catherinelundoff.net

  About QUEEN OF SWORDS PRESS

  Queen of Swords is an independent small press, specializing in swashbuckling tales of derring-do, bold new adventures in time and space, mysterious stories of the occult and arcane and fantastical tales of people and lands far and near. Visit us online at www.queenofswordspress.com and sign up for our mailing list to get notified about upcoming releases and offers. Or follow us on Facebook at the Queen of Swords Press page so you don’t miss any press news.