Chapter 40
The worst monsters
cannot be killed with a blade
~Unknown
Nikolai stood at the helm while I stood at the bow, elbows perched on the railing as I gazed out at the blurry glow of the lanterns in the longboats below.
An empty bowl of what used to be bean and ham stew was rested in my hands, but despite Boil’s uncanny ability to season food with so little on hand, it tasted bland to me.
Even the thought of food was losing its appeal.
“Men are about to change shifts,” Nazario said beside me, staring at the same faint glowing orbs in the fog.
“Good,” I said.
He pulled a small, glass flask from a leather pouch on his belt and handed it to me. I could smell the rum before I brought it to my lips and took a sip.
“Twelve days,” he muttered as he took back the flask and took a swig himself. “That’s a long time to not see the sun.”
“It is a long time to not have wind,” I sighed, glancing up at the lax sails. “If the men keep towing the Weaver at this rate, the rations will be gone sooner than we can afford. But they need the strength.”
“Aye. It would appear that we’ve gotten ourselves in a little bit of a bind.”
“It was expected. We all knew what could happen.”
A pair of footsteps too soft to be any of my men wandered up behind us. We both turned to see Dahlia and Meridan, an air of tension between them.
“Meri—” Dahlia started.
“I am going in the water,” Meridan cut her off.
“You’re not,” Dahlia argued, but Meridan kept her eyes on me, ignoring her.
“It’s been nearly two weeks of windless wandering.
Your men are getting tired and their spirits are low.
I will swim ahead. I come from deephome.
My eyes know the darkness better than anyone here.
And I’m faster than you,” she said toward Dahlia.
“I have the best chance of outrunning something if anything should show itself.”
“These waters are different. What do you think you will find?” Dahlia said.
“Shallows. A current. Anything.”
“Meridan, she is right,” I said, stepping toward her. “You can’t possibly know the waters here any better than we can.”
“It’s been quiet for many days. If anything is following below, I will find out. If there is nothing, then I can scout ahead, but even I am feeling the effects of this stillness. I must busy myself.”
My eyes shifted to Dahlia who, by the look on her stern face, had been arguing with Meridan for some time.
But she and I both knew that the journey would take its toll on our sanity before it took a toll on our bodies if we did not find something to move toward.
As it was, traveling through fog blindly was weighing on the men.
The air was getting colder. The fog was getting thicker. We needed more.
“Fine,” I said.
Dahlia’s eyes narrowed at me, but she did not speak up against my decision.
Meridan threw her a glance as if expecting her to protest. When she didn’t, Meri began to strip out of her clothes, eager to get busy, despite what might be lurking in the water beneath us.
Her clothes in a heap on the floor, she stepped toward the railing.
“Meri,” Dahlia said, taking her arm and spinning her to face her.
She cupped her cheeks in her hands. “I know you’re fast. It’s one of your greatest strengths.
If anything happens, you swim. Don’t fight.
You swim back here if you can. If you can’t, swim anywhere.
I don’t care where, but you don’t get caught. ”
Meridan nodded, pulling her shoulders back before she faced the railing again.
I let her take my hand as she stepped up onto the ledge and, without looking back, dove down into the flat water.
I could hardly see the water’s surface, but the splash drew eyes from everyone on deck.
Mullins jogged up to us, peering into the foggy sea.
“Oy! Where’s she going?” he said.
“She’s going to be our eyes from beneath since there is little to nothing to see up here,” I said.
“And you let her? Who knows what’s down there. What if—”
“She’ll be alright,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Deephome is dark and treacherous,” Dahlia added. “She understands dangerous waters.”
Even as she defended the idea of Meridan being in the water, I could hear the apprehension in her voice. She carefully gathered her clothes and draped them over one arm, her jaw pulsing as she glanced once more into the hazy waters below.
“Dahlia,” I said as she was about to turn and walk away. “She will be alright.”
I only half-believed myself…
I swore under my breath as I followed Dahlia into my cabin where she was placing Meridan’s clothes on top of my trunk.
“We knew this could happen,” I said as I closed the door behind me.
“I know. It does not make it easier.” She turned to me, resting her hands on her hips. “Theloch will bring us in. I have to keep believing that.”
“We all need to believe that. And I do. There are forces I do not understand here and I can admit that they want you. It will test us and then, when it thinks we are weak, it will reel us in for the kill. So, we must stay strong.”
“I know. And I will. For all of us if I must.”
I strolled toward her, angered that the haze had made it into every room and crevasse of my ship. I longed to see her clearly again. I slid my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her toward me, gently kissing her lips.
“You’re not alone, love,” I whispered.
The next day, things continued as they had been.
I found myself at the helm again while Nikolai took a rest. Fatigue became a regular affliction.
The air was too thick to get a proper breath, and it seemed that every time the sun rose, it left a bit of its warmth behind the horizon.
It was getting colder and still we did not know where to put ourselves on a map.
The next day was the same…
Still, no Meridan. No signs of land. No wind. Some of my men sat on the deck, eating stale meat and bean soup, while others slept, likely dreading the moment they had to open their eyes again and find we had not emerged from that foggy hell.
I stared at Dahlia standing at the bow of the ship and slowly made my way toward her.
“If this is even a taste of what he put you through while you slept, then I have no regrets about hunting the bastard down, even if we have to cross this strange wasteland to get to him,” I said.
“That story,” she replied. “The one about the men who got lost in the fog and followed what they thought was the moon. I have no doubt that they came here, to the Myre.”
“Aye, I’ve thought of that, too. Leofwine, if he was real, was looking for Theloch. He just didn’t know it.”
“It was apparent to me when you first told the tale. We both knew our path would lead here from the beginning. We just didn’t understand what that meant.
Here, at the edge of dreams and reality, on the thin parapet of sanity where one misstep will send us falling into places we cannot climb out of.
” She pivoted her body to face me fully.
“You feel it now. You feel what I have been feeling my whole life. It’s suffocating.
It’s nothingness and somehow nothingness seems alive.
This fog has eyes and it is laughing at us.
” She stepped toward me, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“You understand now what it feels like for Akareth to notice you.”
“I understand,” I said, my hand flexing at the mere mention of the coward’s name.
“I understand that this,” I gestured at the fog, “Only strengthens my resolve. Now, we can have this back and forth as much as you like. If today I must be the strong one, I will, because tomorrow I know you will be. We will—”
A scream lifted from the water, distant but clear. A scream that made my entire crew freeze, some with spoonfuls of soup halfway to their mouths. I peered out into the white haze, almost doubting I’d heard it until it skimmed the water again.
“Help!” it said.
“Meridan,” Dahlia whispered.
There was no doubt that it was her voice, but there was plenty of doubt that it was actually her.
“Meridan!” Dahlia replied.
“We do not know it’s her,” I said.
“Help me! Please, someone!” the voice shrieked.
“Men!” I called out. “To the ship!”
“Aye, cap’n!” someone yelled back from the boats.
I watched the lanterns from the longboats, focusing on the blurry orbs.
“Help!” came Meridan’s voice again, that time from the starboard side of the ship.
“It’s not her. She wouldn’t talk like that and you know it,” I said, hoping my words would convince Dahlia not to do something reckless.
“And how would they know what she sounds like if they did not cross paths with her?”
I shrugged. “They could have been stalking us this whole time, listening to our conversations.”
Again, the voice called out, desperate and too like Meridan to ignore. But we had to.
“Tow them in,” I said, moving to the ropes on which the boats were tethered. “Men! To me! Bring in our boats!”
Anyone on deck was up in a beat, leaving their bowls abandoned on the floor as they rushed to the ropes and began to heave. Dahlia headed to the starboard side of the ship and searched the fog, her hand clutching the hilt of her bronze cutlass.
With my men hauling the boats in, I ran to Dahlia’s side at the ship’s edge.
Together we watched the lanterns drift closer, small orbs trembling in the fog.
We threw the climbing nets overboard, cords whispering as they unraveled toward the water.
Behind me, a sudden grunt and boots scraping across the deck.
I spun. One of the ropes was straining, drawn taut by something unseen.
It hissed against their palms and then snapped taut again.
I turned back to the sea. Out there in the white smog, one glowing orb swayed, slow, deliberate, like a pendulum counting down. My men gathered beside me, breath shallow. Then, without warning, the light went out.
No screams.
No clashing of swords.
No sound at all. Only the sea breathing below us.
The rope then went lax beside me, splashing in the water below as if the boat at the other end had been severed from it. Even the chill of the air could not extinguish the heat of anger searing beneath my skin at the thought of losing one of my boats and four of my men.
A feminine giggle echoed from the water and suddenly my crew was rushing about, grabbing their pistols and positioning themselves at the harpoons, despite that we couldn’t penetrate the fog enough to see the water’s surface.
“Pull up this rope!” I ordered my men, marching back to the starboard side to help the others onto the ship.
When everyone was on board, the others were quick to begin hauling the remaining longboat up out of the water and secure it. From the port side, Meridan’s screams once more haunted our senses. The worry was painted all over Dahlia’s face as she stared across the deck toward the familiar tone.
“We have to pull up the nets,” I said.
She nodded and folded herself over the railing, reaching for the ropes.
We started to drag them upwards lest something unwanted use them to board the Weaver, but just as we began to tug, something weighed on them.
I pulled my pistol from my baldric and aimed downward while Dahlia drew her cutlass, awaiting whatever was coming up from the fog.
A pale white hand reached up, grabbing hold of Dahlia’s wrist. She drew back her blade to strike, but the ghostly figure that emerged made us both hesitate.
“Meridan,” Dahlia gasped, tossing her sword to the ground.
She reached over, taking both of her arms and lifting her over the railing. Tucking my pistol away, I continued raising the nets so nothing else could follow. Cathal appeared to take Dahlia’s place until we had the nets rolled back over the railing and secured.
Mullins ran to Meridan with a sheet from his own bed and tossed it over her naked body. She sat hunched over herself, out of breath.
“You must prepare,” she said between deep breaths.
Before she could finish what she was saying, I felt the smallest hint of wind feather across my cheek.
Dahlia and I locked eyes as a thin strand of her hair blew across her face.
I could hardly believe it until I heard the sound of fabric rustling above me.
I peered up to see the main sail rippling with movement. The first I’d seen in weeks.
I stood, rushing toward the helm to relieve Nikolai, a mix of dread and excitement making a mess of my thoughts.
As soon as my hands clutched the pegs on the wheel, the sails went taut against a strong gust of wind.
The ship staggered forward, nearly knocking everyone off balance.
It had been a while since we’d felt movement beneath our feet.
Men stumbled about, rushing to various parts of the ship to attend to duties that had not needed tending for many days.
The ship rocked. The sails creaked and stressed against a deliberate current.
We were moving and we were moving fast.
It seemed we’d been snagged on a hook and something was reeling in the line, just like Dahlia said it would. The water was moving again and the breeze, like a living thing, pushed us onward as if it was playing a game.
But a strong wind and rough seas were a far greater comfort than the stillness we’d been enduring.
“Vidar,” Dahlia said, rushing up the steps to meet me. “Rough seas ahead.”
“Aye, I thought as much,” I smiled maniacally, accepting the challenge. “Take Meri below and tuck her in. I’ll get us through.”