Chapter 40
Gaeren stepped in front of Aeliana, attempting to shield her even though the Sayhleen man threatened Sylmar under the opposite net.
As Velden drew closer, Nori released her own net, easily ensnaring him because he made no move to run.
Instead, he lay his mother’s tail down and kneeled as though presenting an offering.
“Your sister?” Gaeren asked. “Then you would be Velden’s uncle?”
Velden’s head snapped up at this, his eyes holding a mix of hope and confusion.
But the Sayhleen kept his trident and focus on Sylmar, waiting for an answer.
“We brought your sister here for a proper burial,” Sylmar said, his tone more even and placating than Gaeren had ever heard it. “We mean her no disrespect.”
The Sayhleen still didn’t move, but his gills flapped as though searching for water that might calm him. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I can show you,” Gaeren said.
This time the older woman stepped forward, her eyes rimmed red and the wetness on her cheeks likely more than rain. “Show us what?”
“I’m a noetic progeny. Velden, Aeliana, and I rescued his mother’s tail from a poacher. We brought her body here so Velden could say his goodbyes. And now it seems she has family who could benefit from that closure as well.” He held out his hand. “Let me show you.”
“Don’t,” the man growled, and the woman stepped back, distrust written on her features. But to Gaeren’s surprise, Nori stepped forward, placing her hand in his.
He was already spent from his fight with the sea, his starlock nearly drained. But he pulled up the memory of their fight with Dreyfus and their escape to the water. He made sure to remember Velden’s grief for good measure.
The memories broke off with a painful snap as Nori’s father tore her hand from Gaeren’s.
“He could have killed you,” he said.
Nori’s eyes shone with awe. “They saved her,” she whispered. “They’re telling the truth.”
“You’ll let the elders decide that,” her father said. “And we won’t hear any more of their lies until then.”
The man dislodged Nori’s net just to lift the Sayhleen tail, then tightened it around Velden once more.
To Gaeren’s dismay, they were dragged back into the water with far less care over how they fared.
Even though they could still touch the sea’s floor, the Sayhleens swam them along the coast, dragging them along like the day’s catch.
The nets made it difficult to stay above water, much less plan any sort of escape.
But the Sayhleens were able to transport them faster than they would have made it on land.
By the time they’d reached a different beach, one that held a small town’s harbor, the storm had mostly abated and other Sayhleens were rising from the water.
Gaeren’s mouth hung open as wide as Cyrus’ as they watched the people transform their scales, sliding them away for leathery skin and shifting the kelp-like hair to a range of colors silkier and smoother.
Tails and fins transformed to arms and legs.
Minimal scales remained on torsos to maintain modesty.
Was that how they clothed themselves, or would they eventually don trousers and tunics?
Even the Sayhleens who had captured them shifted more than they had before, their gills folding in against their neck and the webs of their hands smoothing out to fingers.
Velden held up his own webbed hands in curious comparison, drawing Nori’s gaze.
“Oh.” She leaned over to inspect him through the net. “Are you really Rhoda’s son?” she whispered.
“No more talking,” her father chided.
She stepped back, biting her lip and bowing her head in deference.
A crowd gathered around them, making Gaeren more anxious as possible escape routes diminished.
Cries rose as people recognized the Sayhleen tail, and within moments there was a sea of people kneeling down and wailing in their grief.
Their mournful sounds rose almost like a song that was both horrifying and awe-inspiring, leaving Gaeren uncertain if he wanted to cover his ears or hold on to the memory to revisit later.
Velden kneeled as well, his face in his hands as he wept.
Several young men approached, their scales remaining in place like armor, weapons at their sides. Gaeren couldn’t hear the words exchanged because of the wailing mourners, but it was clear they were about to be carted off to some sort of waiting place or prison.
Holm and Lukai exchanged grim looks, determination on their faces as they reached for their weapons.
“Wait,” Gaeren hissed, trying to be heard over the wails but not by the soldiers. “What if they’re willing to listen? If we fight back now, we immediately make ourselves enemies. But if they listen, we have a chance.”
“And if they don’t listen?” Sylmar asked.
Gaeren frowned, glancing back at Aeliana.
“I agree with Gaeren,” she said. “I don’t want to fight these people, not when they’re mourning the same woman we are.” Her gaze rested on Velden, her eyes filled with compassion. “Besides, we came for a purpose. We need them to take us to Lady Merinnia. We need to get our questions answered.”
Sylmar sighed, but his tense posture relaxed. “I doubt our weapons can do much against these nets anyway. The Sayhleens would have removed them from us otherwise.”
As the soldiers began leading them away, Velden finally put up resistance. “Please, no,” he cried as they pulled him to his feet. “I know you’ll take her out to the sea. I know you’ll release her to the water, to the sprites.”
Gaeren tensed at the absurdity of that part of the ritual. How could he respect anyone who worshiped such vile creatures?
“I wasn’t able to hold her in her death.” Velden went on. “Please don’t deny me the chance to release her to the sea.” He made similar hand motions to the Sayhleens, far slower, but with purpose.
The soldiers hesitated, glancing at the man who’d brought them in. Even he looked momentarily uncertain as he followed Velden’s hand motions. “How do you know Water Words? And of our rituals?”
“My mother taught me.” Velden’s shoulders slumped and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“She came every year when the water was warmest, even after I was grown.
She told me of her people, my people. She told me of the Seer and your Awakening celebrations.
She told me she would never regret coming to Vendaras, that she would never regret me.
“But then she died,” he said flatly. “She left me without a true place in this world, straddled between two people groups. She told me so much, but it turns out she told me very little.”
The wails had died down by now as people listened to his tirade, which was more of a tribute.
Nori stepped forward, tugging on her father’s sleeve. “Look at his hands,” she said. “He tells the truth.”
Everyone’s eyes strayed to Velden’s webbed fingers. Even he held them out and studied them as if he hadn’t seen them before. Then he looked up at the man, his chin raised with pride.
“Look at my eyes. My father always said I had her eyes. It made it difficult for him to see me after she died.” His lips pressed together in a thin grim line, hinting at a different sort of grief he’d yet to share with his companions.
This time, the Sayhleen man’s eyes grew misty. “Let him come,” he said gruffly. “But take the others to the hut.”
The hut turned out to be exactly what it sounded like: walls made from bamboo shoots and other sticks, a dirt floor, and a thatched roof.
But the entire thing was lined on the outside with the same net that had been used to catch them, some sort of seaweed-like substance that felt more alive than the ropes they’d used in Vendaras.
As the nine of them were shuffled into the fifteen-foot round room, they were relieved of their weapons, except for Sylmar’s staff, since he needed it for walking.
The soldiers stared extra long at Riveran’s forehead, a stark reminder that even without context it was a clear sign of distrust across cultures.
Even the silver fish and golden arrow, their guaranteed chances at escape, were taken into the Sayhleens’ custody.
They didn’t disrespect the travelers so much as to remove starlocks, but they gave several warnings that no second chances would be given if magic were used.
Sylmar and Lukai immediately began scouring the walls of the hut for any weaknesses, but Gaeren simply sat, leaning back against the sticks.
Their fate rested in the hands of the Sayhleens and in Velden’s ability to convince them of the truth.
After seeing Velden grieve his mother, he held a fair amount of confidence in the Sayhleens.
He just wasn’t sure how long it would take.
The warm, humid air made it impossible for their clothes to completely dry, but the longer they sat there, the stiffer their tunics and trousers grew with the salt.
Aeliana’s blouse crunched with her every movement, and sand stuck to every bit of skin on Gaeren’s body, exposed or not.
The inability to wash it off left him agitated.
“What happened?” Gaeren asked Aeliana, gesturing to the blood on her blouse and trousers.
She frowned at it, then tugged on her sleeves and flipped her hands around until she found cuts on her palm. “Maybe shells in the water?”
Her uncertainty left him anxious even though it wasn’t the first time she’d had unexplained cuts on her skin—maybe because it wasn’t the first time. Lukai joined them, smoothing out her wounds even though Aeliana could have done it herself.
Gaeren rubbed the braid under his cuff while debating if he should get up and give them some space. One glance at Kendalyhn, who glared daggers at Aeliana, made him decide that space would only get filled by someone else with far more animosity.
Eventually, even Sylmar joined the others on the floor, and Holm’s snores filled the room, lulling several others into an uneasy sleep.