Authors: Michael A Stackpole
flesh in. The claws were tested and found to contain a venom thought to be similar to a
Viruk warrior’s. It caused paralysis in small animals, and the investigators suggested that
many of the crew had been felled by it before they had a chance to fight.
A study of its stomach contents yielded fishbones and fingers, suggesting strongly that the
rest of the
Moondragon
’s crew would never be found. Bits and pieces of its flesh were fed to cats and a few rats with no ill effect. The fact that cats ate it with relish did nothing to make any of the men want to partake.
But the effect of all the study proved less than satisfactory. The only thing the scholars
could agree on was that they’d never seen anything like it. The reasons for that abounded,
as well as stories of how the creature could have come to exist. Some decided the gods
were upset with Men in general and created these things to supplant them. Others spoke
of more sinister and salacious situations, in which lost sailors had committed unspeakable
acts with fishwomen. Jorim still favored the theory he had advanced to Anaeda; that they
were just a heretofore undiscovered race of creature. The utter lack of stories about them
did worry him, but since the only logical alternative was that they were a spontaneous
creation of the gods, he stuck with his theory. Divine intervention just did not sit well with
him.
He did remember his conversation with Keles before they both departed. Keles had
suggested Empress Cyrsa still existed in Ixyll and was out there fighting something that
still threatened the old Empire. Keles had advanced the theory that perhaps the
Cataclysm had opened a rift to another world, letting in forces as yet unseen by man.
While Jorim considered that highly unlikely, it did serve to explain why there was no long-
standing tradition of these sea devils in folktales.
In the end, he just accepted that they were what they were. It wasn’t so important to know
where they had come from as it was to spot where they were and to determine where they
might be going. The fact that they had been able to attack a ship and denude it of crew,
leaving only the barest of signs of their passing, frightened him. He wasn’t so much
worried for the
Stormwolf
as he was for a small island, or what would happen if the
creatures passed up a river delta and began to devour villages.
In the month of the Bear, the fleet located more of the islands from the Soth chart and
landed crews to examine them. They did find some signs of human habitation, but it had
been years since the villages were populated. On one island they were able to harvest a
lot of feral pigs to replenish their supply of fresh meat, and it provided ample feasting for
the New Year’s Festival. Even better, the pigs’ presence suggested the sea devils hadn’t
visited the islands, which made everyone feel somewhat at ease.
The New Year’s Festival passed without so much as a storm, which they all found
welcome yet unusual. No one complained, however, and the Festival carried on with an
exchange of gifts among the people of the fleet: nothing extravagant, and all of it the
product of labors undertaken in spare minutes here and there. Clothes newly decorated
with embroidery were exchanged, serenades were sung for the enjoyment of all, and even
the cooks outdid themselves by making the normal fare extraordinary through use of
spices that had been hoarded against such a time.
Shimik even provided a present to those on the
Stormwolf
. Alotia, one of the concubines who had been apprenticed to the Lady of Jet and Jade, spent hours teaching the Fennych
a dance. Jorim had not quibbled over her constant requests for the Fenn’s company since
she kept him occupied during the dissections. It was only when she dressed the small
creature in a blue robe embroidered with golden tigers that he wondered what she’d been
doing with him all that time.
The traditional dance, which went by the formal name
Chado-ong-dae,
was usually
performed to greet the new year by a young woman of marriageable age who sought a
mate. It had long been seen as dance of seduction, with the lithe and fluid movements
reflecting the dancer’s grace and sensuous nature. Jorim had seen it performed a number
of times through the years, in a variety of forms, all over the Nine Principalities and
beyond.
But never had he seen it done the way Shimik did it. What for a girl were graceful and
delicate motions became strong and stalking. Where she was a tigress slipping through
the jungle eluding all those save for the mate she chose, Shimik became the hunting tiger.
His leaps tucked into rolls from which he emerged with a flash of claw and fang. He
became all muscle and sinew, his movements deliberate and menacing, his hunting turns
fearsome enough to make sailors scoot back and give him room.
And then, the music and dance would end and his demeanor would shift. He’d run to
Alotia and leap into her arms as people cheered. The vestiges of feline nature would
vanish into an infantile hug the concubine returned heartily, and growls became delighted
coos. The transformation brought another round of applause from the spectators,
prompting both performer and teacher to bow most humbly and wish the joy of the Festival
to all.
So well received was the performance that Captain Gryst ordered Shimik sent around the
fleet to entertain all the ships. Parties from each ship visited the
Stormwolf
in the wake of his performances. Before the month of the Tiger dawned, Shimik had uniforms from each
ship as well as a variety of trinkets with which he filled a wooden box and gleefully pawed
whenever foul weather kept him in the cabin.
But where the Festival had given them respite from foul weather and ill omens, the month
of the Tiger lived up to its worst potential. Chado, the tiger god, moved through shadows
and visited misfortune on those who displeased him. Clouds and fog closed in with the
turn of the year, making it all but impossible to discern even the lamps burning fore and aft
on the nearest ships.
Information passed between ships through a laborious process of lantern signaling. Not
only did it take a long time to pass any messages, but many on the ships could read the
signals. Rumors based on these messages abounded, and the last remnants of joy from
the Festival evaporated.
The fleet was being stalked.
Everyone knew about the sea devil; there had been no keeping that news quiet. To
counteract the fear, the scholars had been charged to try to figure out what the thing
actually was. Captain Gryst had labored under the vain hope that someone might have
known, thereby ending all speculation. Absent that sort of victory, the plethora of
explanations could have split opinions and directed folks away from worrying too much.
Unfortunately, the sailors uniformly dismissed any scholarly speculation, assuming that
since the sea was their home, they knew best. And what they knew was that the sea
devils were nasty and had attacked a ship, hauling the crew away. This meant they would
be out there waiting to take the next ship that got careless, and would continue to do so
until they were all gone.
Jorim realized that, given the sailors and their opinions, there would have been stories
about the fleet being stalked whether or not there was anything to it. While he didn’t want
to believe in what they were saying, there was no way the stories couldn’t get into his
head. He felt ashamed of falling prey to superstitions, and said as much to Captain Gryst
as they sat over a game of chess in her cabin one evening.
She looked up from the board and frowned at him. “I need not lecture you on how strange
the ocean can be. If you think about it, water is but a thick fog over an incredible
landmass. As the air has birds, so the ocean has fish. What is down below the fish,
though, we have no way of knowing—any more than we can determine what is above the
clouds. If you think about it just for a moment, you might see that the sea devils have their
own empires down there, on the bottom of the ocean, and they have found a way to rise
into their sky, to find out what is skimming their clouds. What they have found is us.”
Jorim shifted his shoulders as a chill trickled down his spine. “You don’t actually believe
that, do you?”
“Believe? No.” She moved her Master of Shadows. “I would not waste the time or energy
believing in that. But I accept it is possible. What I want is an answer, because this not-
knowing is harming my crew.”
From somewhere on deck, a voice raised an alarm. Before the two of them had slid their
chairs back from the table, Lieutenant Minan opened the door to her cabin. “Begging your
pardon, Captain. Green lanterns off the port bow.”
“Out of the way, Lieutenant.” Anaeda pushed past him and led the way to the deck. “Keep
to your duties, all of you. Helm, steady the course.”
They raced along the deck and Jorim went down once on an icy patch. He got up and
sprinted up the ladder to join the captain in the bow. Cold wind cut at him, but it really
didn’t matter because nothing could have warmed him.
Above, a thin crack opened in the clouds and bled silver into the mist. The moon’s light
silhouetted a huge ship—one not nearly the length and breadth of the
Stormwolf,
but
equally suited to long voyages over deep ocean. It bore the customary nine masts, but
from them hung tattered sheets. Jorim could make out the crest on one of them and knew
it to be Naleni, but from a time before Prince Cyron ruled.
One of the older sailors in the bow pointed. “That’s the
Wavewolf
.”
Jorim’s flesh tightened. “The
Wavewolf
was lost eighteen years ago. My father was on it.”
“No longer, Master Anturasi.”
The moonlight illuminated the creatures capering on the deck and clinging to the ratlines.
Sea devils, each and every one of them. The one they’d found on the
Moondragon
had
been a runt, for these creatures were half again the size of a normal man. The lanterns
fore, aft, and hanging from masts burned with a green light that shimmered from scales as
creatures spun through dances that had no accompaniment.
A million thoughts rioted through Jorim’s mind. He tried to recall what his father looked like
and could not. The image of the man he’d held in his mind had been created from dozens
of stories, but they all evaporated as he watched the shadowship keep pace with them.
His father had filled how many bellies over there? He couldn’t imagine what he would tell
his mother or grandfather, sister or brother.
Will I get the chance, or will I feed them as he
did?
An urgent tug on his trousers brought him back to reality. He glanced down.
Shimik raised his bow. “Twanga twanga!”
Jorim wondered for a moment how the Fenn had managed to string the bow, but didn’t let
that stop him from bringing it to hand and pulling an arrow from the quiver Shimik had
dragged on deck. He drew, aimed, and let fly.
The arrow disappeared in the darkness. Jorim thought he’d missed his mark, then one of
the sea devils spasmed and fell from the rigging. The other sea devils paused in their
dancing as he flopped to the deck, then fell on him, clawing and biting. They tore limbs
free and several led merry chases over the deck as others sought to steal part of their
bounty.
Jorim nocked another arrow, but Anaeda held a hand up. “It will do no good.”
“One more, Captain, please.” Jorim swallowed hard. “For my father?”
She nodded and stood back. He drew and aimed. He held his shot, measuring the
distance, letting the ships rise and fall. He let the rhythm move through him, and finally
shot.
The arrow hit its mark. A green lantern high on the main mast fell like a streaking star to
the main deck. It exploded when it hit, spraying burning oil over the decking and back up
the mast. Several of the capering sea devils became spinning torches. They careened
over the deck, igniting cable and sail while the ship’s rolling spread the liquid fire further.
Another lantern exploded, and another.
Whatever had been propelling the
Wavewolf
forward stopped. The burning ship fell off the wind and the clouds closed. But even without moonlight, the ship remained visible. It
turned broadside to the ocean’s swells, rising and falling. One moment they could see the
whole of it ablaze, and the next the masts showed as distant candle flames. And then
even the candles went out and the
Wavewolf
disappeared.
Anaeda Gryst turned to him. “Shall I congratulate you on your shooting?”
Jorim shook his head. “If I thought that was the last we’d see of the sea devils, I would
welcome it. I don’t think it is.”
“Nor do I.” She sighed. “In fact, I think it is highly likely that you’ve only made them
angrier.”
3rd day, Month of the Tiger, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Dolosan
The disharmonious nature of Dolosan’s western reaches—including the approaches to
Ixyll—disturbed Moraven in ways he had not expected. In his life he had seen many