Chapter 9 Caspia
Nine
Caspia
My fingertips traced the crescent grooves in the ship’s wall. They were deeper now from so many moons spent at the bow, staring out over the water. And their once rough edges had been smoothed by my constant touch.
Hopefully, when this voyage was over, Cap wouldn’t be too angry that I’d marked the Cirrina.
The two moons hung low in the sky, their light dimming as dawn neared. It had been suns and suns since we’d left Nelfinex, and we had yet to see land. Yet still, the ritus called, as steady a beat as my heart.
The harsh clip of boots on the deck behind me was my only warning before Cap appeared at my side. His jaw was still clenched, and he looked as angry this morning as he’d been last moon.
The linen fabric of his shirt pulled tight over his wide shoulders and muscled arms. It had grown colder the farther we’d sailed, and the suns of the crew going shirtless were gone.
“Good morning.” Maybe some cheer would defuse his anger.
“We’re turning back,” he barked, crossing his arms over his chest.
So much for cheer.
On a sigh, I turned away from the sea and squared my shoulders for a repeat argument with the pirate. “Not yet.”
“There is nothing out here, Princess.” He stretched an arm over the ship’s wall, shaking a pointed finger at the endless expanse of waves and water. “This is the farthest I have ever sailed from Kenn, and there is nothing.”
“There is. I can feel it.” The pull of the ritus was getting stronger and stronger each passing sun.
“I don’t give a damn what you can feel. We’ve been sailing according to your feelings for too long. We’re past the halfway point on our rations. If we don’t turn back now, you’ll condemn us all to death.”
“One more sun.”
“No. We turn back now.”
I shook my head. “One more sun.”
“You’ve said that three suns in a row.”
“Yes, I have. Please, just give me one more. Tomorrow, I won’t argue.” I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. “You have my vow.”
He frowned. “Your vow will mean very little when we die of thirst.”
“You may have my water rations for your crew.”
“It won’t be enough.”
“It might. And it could rain.”
“By the grace of the Divine,” he muttered, running a hand over the beard he’d grown during our time at sea.
Surrounded by water and yet we were running short.
Cap wouldn’t place the blame on Xandra, not after all the time they’d spent together, sharing his bed. The man was entirely infatuated with my pretty cousin. But she was another person on this ship who needed food and water. A person who they had not planned on having for this journey.
The food shortage had been an easy enough problem to solve. The men fished to replenish the stores. But fresh water was not as easy to come by without rain, and the barrels stored belowdecks were beginning to wane.
We needed a storm. Or we needed to reach land.
Was this the direction Emery had gone with Max? Cap didn’t know where his brother had taken my sister. But there had to be something out here. We couldn’t turn back, not yet.
“Please. One more sun?”
He growled. “One. Tomorrow, I will not ask.”
I sighed. “Thank you.”
Cap muttered something under his breath before he marched away, barking orders at a crew as grumpy as their leader.
We were all more than ready to get off this ship.
I covered a yawn as Xandra joined me at the bow, taking Cap’s space. She leaned her elbows on the wall and stared at the horizon.
We were dressed the same, in charcoal pants and vests. It was cool enough this morning that she’d donned one of Cap’s jackets.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“No.”
Sleep had become a luxury as of late. Visions plagued me the moment I closed my eyes, nearly every moon. The people and places I saw were unfamiliar, and the visions came so frequently that the details were beginning to blend together.
All I wanted was for them to stop.
“What did you see?” Xandra asked.
“There was a boy sitting on a floor. He had silky black hair and eyes so dark they shone blue. All around him were books. He picked one up and tossed it into the air. But the book didn’t fall. It floated higher and higher.”
“Floating books?” Xandra raised her eyebrows.
I nodded. “Floating books. Maybe that one was just a dream and my imagination running wild.”
“Did it feel like a dream?”
“No.” There was a realism to the visions that made them sharp and clear. Dreams had fuzzy edges, and the moment I woke, they began to fade. The visions lingered like memories.
“Then I had a vision of a young man in a forest. He was hunting with a bow and arrow. His cloak was as green as the trees. He came across a golden cat snared in a trap. The trap’s teeth had pinned the beast’s leg and severed its toe.
No matter how hard the cat struggled, it couldn’t get free.
The man approached the cat, and the beast whipped its barbed tail, warning him away.
It hissed, flashing sharp, black teeth. But the beast had been trapped for suns, and its strength was fading. ”
I’d never seen an animal like the cat from my vision. There were rumors of golden cats that lived in the southern countries in Kenn, but beasts like the one in my vision didn’t roam the Nelfinex wilds. Its coat was leathery and sleek, the color as pure and vivid as the yellow light of sunset.
“It collapsed,” I continued. “And when the man approached, it did not struggle or try to fight. He pried open the trap and backed away with his hands lifted in surrender and peace. The cat did not attack him, but before it wandered off, it nudged its own severed toe toward him. Then it disappeared into the forest. The man took the black claw and wore it around his neck.”
I’d seen him return home from that hunt to his lovely young wife. I’d watched as he became a father to an adorable boy with brown eyes and curly black hair. The man spent his life smiling until he eventually grew old, his black braids speckled with gray.
“He wore the claw for the entirety of his life. He was never sick or feeble. He was never in pain. Then one sun, he gave the claw necklace to his grown son. The father then left his home to explore a nearby forest. He sat down beside a tree to rest and died.”
“So this golden cat’s claw prolonged the man’s life?” Xandra asked.
“Possibly. Or maybe it kept him strong. Or maybe it was just a claw he wore around his neck as an ornament. I don’t know. I don’t know what any of these visions mean.”
A crease formed between her eyebrows. “It is the ritus. It has to be.”
“Or too many suns aboard this ship have addled my mind.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Tomorrow, Cap is turning us back.”
“I’m impressed. You talked him into another sun?”
“More like begged. We’re close. I can feel it.”
Xandra exhaled, looping her arm with mine. “I can feel it, too.”
My face whipped to hers. “You feel it? The ritus?”
A shy smile spread across her mouth. “I feel it. Finally. It’s strange. I can feel the very blood moving through my body. It’s urging me forward. And there’s a different beat in my chest, like another heart.”
“A thrum.”
She nodded. “Yes. It feels like a reward for going in the right direction. Even the idea of turning around…”
“Hurts.” That gentle, soothing strum vanished, and in its place was a sharp twist. An ache so uncomfortable it would be impossible to ignore.
The ritus called, and we were driven to answer. “I made Cap a vow. This sun is the last. Then we must turn back. He’s worried about the crew.”
“You made a vow. I did not.” Her smile widened. “If we need more time, we’ll see how persuasive I can be.”
“My biggest regret is not packing cotton for my ears.”
She laughed, her cheeks turning pink as she glanced behind us to where Cap stood at the stern. “He is incredible. Did I tell you that his cock is pierced along the shaft? Divine, it feels good.”
“Stop. Now. I beg you,” I groaned. “It’s bad enough sharing a wall with his quarters.”
She laughed again, louder and carefree. It had been a long time since I’d heard her laugh without restraint. Either Cap and this relationship of theirs was more than a way to entertain themselves on this journey, or it was the relief that the ritus had finally called. Probably both.
“You and Cap. It’s more than a tryst, isn’t it?”
She shrugged.
Yes, it was more.
I leaned my head on her shoulder, another yawn pulling at my mouth.
“You should try to sleep,” she said.
“Okay.” Maybe I was finally so exhausted that I’d crash.
I let go of Xandra’s arm and made my way to my quarters. The room was cramped with a small bed and chest where I stashed my few belongings. After pulling off my boots, I settled on top of my thin quilt, closing my eyes as I relaxed into the pillow.
Sleep came easy.
So did the vision.
…
Aman with brown hair and a broad frame sits astride a bay stallion. In front of him in the saddle is a young girl with gray eyes. She smiles up at him and beckons him closer. Once she has his ear, she whispers something that makes them both laugh.
Still smiling, he urges the horse forward with a tap of his heels. The pair rides away, trotting through swaying grasses, weaving a path toward indigo mountains capped in white.
…
The sound of the girl’s laugh echoed in my ears as I stirred awake. The final frame of the vision lingered like a portrait painted on the wooden ceiling.
I’d never seen mountains so blue or tall. They towered into the sky with jagged peaks. What was the white on their tips? Sand? Or rock?
The landscape of this vision was familiar from others. But the man and the girl were entirely new.
He was handsome, with a chiseled jaw and straight nose. The girl was one of the most beautiful I’d ever seen. Something about her reminded me of Graciella. Maybe it was that they looked to be about the same age, six or seven summers. Maybe the familiarity was the girl’s infectious laugh.
Graciella’s laugh never ceased to make me smile.
I pressed a hand over my heart as it ached for my niece. For my home. Even for my aunt.
Was Oleana angry at us? Was she worried? Already, we’d been gone far longer than was normal for a ritus. Had she dismissed us like she had Emery? Or was she still holding out hope that we would return as Starling?
The thrum in my veins surged so strong it pulled me up to a seat. It swelled higher and higher until my chest felt so full, I could barely breathe.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
I lifted off the bed, like invisible wings pulled me to my feet. To my toes. My arms floated up at my sides, weightless. My fingertips tingled.
My gasp filled the room. And the thrum went quiet.
I sank to my heels, frozen as I waited for it to return, but it was gone.
My gaze shot to the ceiling as a shout came from above. A single word that explained why the pull was gone. “Land.”