Stories for Chip (15 page)

When everything had calmed, Hautalo's armed men had stormed the hold, and dragged us all topside. The armed men now keep their distance, weapons cradled in their arms. Crist and the gunners stand at their posts, frozen with uncertainty.

“I am Brother Sunde,” I say. “From Faulk.”

“And this is a seminarian?” He points to the woman lying unconscious on the deck. He covers her with his long coat.

Jenko is leaning forward, as though about to step out of his own overcoat. By his side is the boy, on one knee. He has the child gripped firmly by the arm.

The boy's eyes appeal to me for help. I hold up my hand to him and make the sign of faith.

“Bother Sunde,” says Hautalo, “I will not ask you again—”

“I am who I say I am. The Abbot will vouch for me.”

“And who will vouch for her?” says Jenko, letting the boy go. He rushes to me, grips my robes, and sobs quietly.

“What creature makes a sound like that?” says Hautalo. “A sound to freeze the spirit and send men running?”

Like the boy, I, too, am frozen with fear.

“Brother,” Hautalo continues, “we had twelve raider ships bearing down on us.
Twelve
. And when they heard that sound—and it was
heard
, as though it thundered from the very air around us—they turned and
fled
.”

“I didn't know. I didn't know,” I babble. “That she could speak. I thought her mute. I didn't know…”

“
Brother
,” says Hautalo, the very tone of his voice is a threat.

I try to compose myself. “I…am a Brother of the Church. And she is…and she…is—”

“Syrmulus.” Jenko says the ancient word, ancient in the tongue of Citymen.

The crewmen speak in terrified whispers.

“The elemental peoples of the Hinterlands,” Crist says wildly, “brought low, kept in a cage; ancient from the time of the First Citymen. This is what you bring the Abbot?
This?”

Crewmen shout: “Kill it! Kill it!”

Panic overtakes me. “No! Those binds are holy, and will keep her grounded. We are in no danger.” I look to Hautalo. “I thought she was mute.”

There is a shuffling of feet. I can see fear in every weather-beaten line of the men's faces. Hautalo sees it, too, and signals his armed men. They move among the crew cautiously, gripping their weapons as they go.

“It is foolhardy to keep her on board,” says Crist. “You must get rid of her.”

“Shut up!” Hautalo snaps.

Marl bounds through the hatch and onto the deck. He rushes to Jenko, places something in his hands, speaks in a low voice.

Jenko looks at it; then holds the sedative bottle up for all to see. “I suppose, Brother Sunde, she is quite passive. At least for the time being. Yes?”

I nod, slowly.

Hautalo and Jenko exchange knowing glances. My eyes move from one to the other, searching their faces.

“The boy,” Hautalo says to me. “You said he cried out, and that's when she began to speak.”

“Yes,” I say.

Hautalo casts his gaze out to the still morning waters. “Master Jenko, call the bridge. I want to know how far we've travelled from the Uvalu Atoll.”

Jenko hands him the bottle and moves to the intercom.

“Marl,” says Hautalo. “Put the boy in my cabin. Secure him there.”

I pull the child closer to me, and hug him fiercely. The burning in my lungs reminds me to breath. “Whatever your intentions I beg you, keep the boy out of it.”

Crist's face is pale. “You think you can control a creature like that, Captain?”

“No,” he says. “But our passengers can. They've been doing it for weeks.” He twists the bottle between his fingers. “With
this
.”

“I didn't know she could speak,” I protest. “And the boy doesn't understand—”

Marl pulls the boy from me. The child struggles, begins to squawk. Hautalo steps over and grips his jaw.

“No talking,” he says, “until I say so. You wouldn't want anything”—he pulls out his gun and points it at the woman's head—“
unfortunate
to happen to the woman.”

The boy looks to me for help, tears streaming from his beautiful eyes. I want to speak words of comfort to him, but they fail to come from my mouth.

The boy's shoulders droop forward and he hangs his head, breath sporadic through quiet sobs. He allows himself to be led below.

My stomach twists. “Captain, I implore you. Honor our agreement.
Please
.”

He ignores me. “Medic!” A small man comes forward. “The woman goes back to her cage. And take care of this.” He hands over the sedative. “It's vital the drug is administered at the correct times. Brother Sunde will…
assist
you.”

The medic calls to another man, and together they lift her gently from the deck. I watch her being carried slowly to the hatch.

Jenko returns. “The Atoll is eight days away, north-by-northwest. Six days at full speed. Fuel reserves are fine. We can do it.”

“Signal the
Marigold
. She is to continue her course away from here,” he says. “The
Venture
will be her escort and provide cover. Inform the
Daystar
and
Azoria
to remain with us. We're going back.”

“Back!” Crist says. “Hautalo.
Captain
. You are deceived.”

Hautalo sneers. “What's the matter, Crist? You fought with our former captain against the raiders. Now suddenly you don't have the belly for it?”

The armed men chuckle at this; the crew smile nervously and hold on to their belts.

Crist sidles up to Hautalo. “You'll still have an inquest to face,
if
we make landfall. Don't forget that. I won't.”

Hautalo considers him for only a moment, and then breaks the man's nose.

Day 17

I am not allowed to be alone with Rydra. An armed guard stays with me in the hold. When he is needed to attend to other duties, I am locked in a sanitary closet.

Rydra makes no sound in her semiconscious state, but stares with empty eyes at the spot where the boy used to sleep. She keeps her back to me.

I finish administering balms to Rydra's wounds and close and lock the door to her cage. The medic takes from me the key, the sedative, the salves, and the cloth and puts them in my satchel. He slings the bag over his shoulder and leaves.

The guard suddenly snaps to attention.

Hautalo is standing in the doorway.

The guard greets the captain with a salute.

“He salutes you,” I say. “So this is a military operation now?”

Hautalo rolls a cigar between his teeth.

“I want to see the boy,” I say.

He sucks hard and blows out a puff of thick, white smoke.

I should choose my words carefully, but the affront to my person chokes me with indignation. “I cannot, in good conscience, be a willing part of this, nor can I allow—”

“Good conscience?” Hautalo takes slow, deliberate strides toward me. “You hardly have the moral high ground here.” He points a finger at Rydra. “You came aboard under false pretenses, and talk to me of good conscience.”

I feel my cheeks flush. “I merely withheld information. For a very good reason.”

“You people have no good reasons for anything you do. I said you're not Cityfolk, didn't I?”

I'm consumed by both my failings in these matters and my resentment that he could so callously dismiss me.

“I am a Brother—”

“—of the Church of the Everlasting,” he spits out. “So you've said.”

“Raised in the Rectory at Rik-Tarshin! Instructed by Abbot Diyari
himself
—”

“—but still not a Cityman.”

“—and I will not allow you…” I swallow my next words, for I know how hollow they will sound.

Hautalo leans casually against the doorframe. I obviously amuse him.

“A Hinterland convert.” He shakes his head. “Who heads a mission in Faulk.
Faulk
. Not exactly a place of inspiration. But you have done one good deed, convert, though unintentionally. You've created for me an incredible opportunity.”

“You took command to save the men. I understand that…”

He grunts. “I'm still going to save the men. And many more. We're heading for the Atoll. No doubt it will be heavily guarded. If you want to survive this, and take back your trophy to the Abbot, you'll cooperate. You don't have a choice in the matter.”

“Captain Hautalo,
please
. For the love of the Everlasting, don't do this. Stop this madness!”

“Yes,” he says, “for the love the Everlasting, I will stop this madness.”

He shuts and bolts the door.

◊

…I've never overseen mass conversions to the faith, nor contributed to the sacred history of the church through Pilgrimage. I'd been assaulted by my Hinterland brethren on more than one occasion, endured a volley of stones, and fled a mob under cover of darkness to a neighboring village—shameful incidences which had me recalled to the Rectory to give account of myself.

Considering my many difficulties, Abbot Diyari decided it best to send me away, to Faulk.

I begged him to reconsider. Faulk was a small community: safe, reliable in its meager but steady support, conservative, uninteresting.

He told me our talents and our appointments must not be mutually exclusive; that they must complement each other.

I resisted, and declared there was so much more I wanted to do, so much more I could do. For the church. For him.

He told me, yes, yes there was.

And I would do it in Faulk.

◊

Day 19

The ship's portside guns thunder into the dying light of day. Raider ships are there, black needles cutting through the water, advancing upon our convoy with great speed.

The medic helped me guide Rydra up on deck. We are escorted by two guards. Jenko is there, holding the port railing as the ship rises and falls. A storm is brewing. A thin rain sprays our faces.

The
Daystar
and the
Azoria
begin fanning out, forcing the enemy line to fracture. A group of raider ships break away and head straight for us.

Jenko signals a crewman, who disappears into a hatch. The boy is brought on deck, struggling in Marl's clutches.

“What are you doing?” I say, cradling Rydra with one arm.

Jenko waves to the men, who haul the boy across the deck and tie him to the cargo crane. Marl works a lever. The arm rises up. The boy dangles there, howling discordant notes.

The horror of perception grips me. “
Jenko, no!
”

Rydra, eyes half open, turns her head to the boy and twists in an attempt to break free. The medic stumbles, crashes into the railing, taking me and Rydra with him.

The raiders are closing on us. Sporadic gunfire lights up the night. The
Azoria
is on fire.

A speaker crackles and Hautalo's voice booms through the air: “
Target atoll, dead ahead. All hands ready. We're going to make a break for it.
”

I can just make out Hautalo at the bridge window. He turns and says something to the helmsman. I feel the engines increase their pounding. We pick up speed, pulling ahead of the other two carriers.

I begin to tremble, not just my hands or legs, but my entire body. I feel as if I am suffocating. I see my prize slip away: a revered place among my honored Brothers denied, and the proud father turning his back on me, as he did all those years ago.

I stare at the boy. A cold, slow fear drips down my body, trickles over my scars.

I cry out: “
Give me my son!
”

Jenko signals Marl. He turns the wheel, and the crane arm rotates and swings out over the sea. The boy's panic-stricken song pierces through the sounds of crashing waves.

Rydra convulses and looks up, eyes now wide. And from her throat comes a terrible sound: deep, dissonant, like a church organ growling.

Jenko comes over, one hand resting on the pistol holstered at his side. The medic's face is a sheet of white. “I'll take her.” Jenko reaches out and grips Rydra's arm. The medic moves back to stand with the guards.

Jenko shakes her with fury. “Come on, you monster. You can do better than
that
.”

Swallowing the bile in my throat I gather my courage and shove my elbow into Jenko's face. He lets go of Rydra and stumbles back; the woman wobbles and falls over, and I let her weight take me with her. Before he can act I reach out, snatch the long blade from the sheath on his boot, and cut the holy binds around her wrists.

Now free, she loses the pale color of her nakedness and her body changes, becomes less substantial, almost translucent, as though she is but a wisp of illuminated cloud.

She draws herself up to her full height; the soft features of her face alter and she is something altogether different, a creature both beautiful and terrifying.

In one swift motion, Rydra extends her arms at the elbows, flexes her fingers, and from her body comes a great swooshing sound, as though a gas primer had just been lit. A wall of air, only visible by its trail across the water, speeds outward to shatter the advancing raider ships into kindling.

Gunners abandon their posts and run for the deck house, mid-ship. Jenko sways between rage and horror. He pulls out his pistol, but I spring up to block his aim. Knife still in my hand, he must think I'm trying to kill him. There is a popping noise and my shoulder explodes with fire. The vessel heaves up under me and my face hits the cold, wet deck.

A scream. I look up just in time to see Jenko and the armed guards being flung overboard in a gust of wind. Three more armed men stumble forward and raise their weapons. Rydra emits one discordant sound, a grinding of notes, and the men are hurled against the bulkhead of the deck house. Cracked skulls smear red and gray across white paint.