What Lies Behind Us And What Lies Before Us
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“Aye, aye sir!” The ensign saluted crisply. “Coming up on the port bow.”
He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was that’d come aboard the ship. She wore no insignia of any kind and had an air about her, but he knew who she was from the moment he caught sight of her. A tall woman in her early forties, with long hair cut into a short bob, and a wide face framed by a pair of spectacles, looked out at him with a smile.
It wasn’t often you saw someone that age who still sported such a look. Most people were too self-conscious nowadays.
“Good morning, Captain,” the captain said as they approached each other. He bowed his head and smiled. “I trust my ship has been well tended?”
“It has been, thank you.” They shook hands, then he turned back to the helm and gestured with one hand towards it. “Mind the tiller, Captain.”
The captain nodded, taking control and easing the ship’s course as smoothly as if she’d done so all her life. He hadn’t even seen her take hold of anything – not even the wheel, though there must’ve been something behind him because he could feel the slight tug as she moved it slightly.
She was far more skilled than anyone else who’d ever sat in command of this ship before him. Even so, it was strange being served by someone in such a different manner. No matter what he asked her for or how much work there might be, she always seemed to make himself comfortable and talk to him about everything except what was required.
Not once had he felt that he needed to hurry her along, nor did she seem rushed when working with him. There was a casualness about her that he found oddly reassuring; it made him want to tell stories with her like old friends, while they worked together in perfect harmony.
She glanced over to him again and flashed him an encouraging smile, and he gave one back as he took his hands away from the helm.
“You may sit down now,” the captain told him, waving to a chair beside hers. “We’ll get underway shortly.”
He nodded and eased himself down, resting his arms on the table. He tried to keep up with the conversation, but he found she spoke rather fast. He couldn’t really understand half the things she said to him.
But it never bothered him – not since he met the captain. If nothing else, she was fascinating company; he’d learned to listen more closely when she talked, just to figure out what she was saying. When she laughed, however, that was a laugh he understood perfectly.
It sounded light and musical, without sounding mocking. As if to prove this, she let out a sudden giggle which caused her hair to fall forward in front of her eyes for a second – and only a second. He saw that she reached up to brush it aside with her left hand.
Only for a second – but still, that meant she’d done it deliberately. In the midst of their conversation, he thought to try it himself, but he realized too late that she had already brushed it back and he looked foolish. She gave another quick chuckle, and her hair settled behind her shoulders again.
He wondered what the fuss was about. Everyone had their quirks. Some people preferred having both arms free, while others liked wearing gloves or carrying two knives on each side. This woman appeared to enjoy brushing her hair back with her left hand instead of using either arm, and that was all there was to it.
After a few moments, he looked up. His gaze fell upon the captain’s spectacles. For a second, he forgot to breathe.
“Oh dear,” the captain murmured. “There are some scratches here.”
She reached up with her right hand, taking the glasses off her nose. He watched fascinated as she held them up to catch the sun. Then she began rubbing the lens with a cloth, cleaning it carefully until the scratches vanished. “How very odd,” she said as she replaced the spectacles on her nose again. “I can see perfectly fine without those spectacles.”
“Perhaps your eyesight is better,” he ventured.
“Quite possibly,” she agreed. “Though I’ve never known anyone like you who doesn’t need spectacles.”
“Why would I?” He looked back up at the captain. Her hair now lay flat against her head again, and he saw she’d taken off her coat and draped it across her lap. Her skin glowed with health and youth, and when she smiled at him her teeth seemed white enough to sparkle under the light. “Are you sure you don’t wear them?”
Her lips twitched upward into another fleeting smile. “Not unless I want to. You can see how good I am without them?”
“Very well,” he admitted with a nod. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask the question burning inside him. “Is everyone aboard blind, or is it just me?”
The captain laughed. She raised her right arm, holding her left hand close to her chest. “That’s one way to put it. And I suppose there are others. But if we’re going to be stuck here together, we’ll do our best to make it enjoyable for everyone – even you, Master Arquin.”
For a long time, neither of them spoke. They stared straight ahead into the distance, listening to the steady hum of the engines and watching the sea roll beneath them.
***
As the captain guided the ship along the coast and out to sea, she explained how they could make repairs to the damage inflicted by the storm. The ship was damaged, yes; that was evident to both of them.
But it was capable of returning home. As far as she knew, the damage was confined to the steering systems and none of the other systems were affected, though she did admit she’d have to check on that later.
“So we will take advantage of our good fortune and head north-east,” she went on. “We should reach Silden within six days. There’s a village called Marnel where we might find someone who knows something about the steering mechanisms.”
“And after that?”
“If we must,” the captain answered. “But I expect the steering system is the least of our problems. We won’t be making any speed – not at first, anyway, so we’ll be spending plenty of time waiting around at ports before we arrive at Silden.” She paused for a moment, studying him. “What sort of ship is this, Master Arquin?”
“I don’t know much about ships. It belongs to the king’s navy.”
“Ah.” The captain nodded slowly. “King Joran is a strange man indeed, but you seem to know his son, King Geder. What about the rest of them? Your brother is Lord Raffin, isn’t he?”
“My father has two brothers: Alaric, and Joron.”
“I remember you told us that last night.” She nodded, then frowned. “You look tired, Master Arquin. You’ve been awake since yesterday afternoon, haven’t you? And yet you didn’t sleep well at all. Why?”
He shrugged. “I think I dreamt about my mother last night.”
“Your mother.” Her voice sounded pained as she repeated the word as if it hurt her to say it. “Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know what you’re doing? Is she still alive in your dreams?”
“No. She died when I was young.” He felt suddenly uncomfortable talking about this with her. “It was years ago. Before I had a family to protect before I ever learned to read.”
The captain nodded. “All the more reason to be careful, then. And all the more important that we get you back to Silden safely.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
The wind blew harder. A few strands of hair whipped across the captain’s face and she shook her head to brush them away. “Do you mind if I take a seat over here? In the shadow?”
She indicated one of the chairs by the railing, beside which rested their packs. She sat down carefully, wincing once more at the creaking sound that came from behind her head, then turned to face him. For a while, they watched the sea. Finally, he cleared his throat and tried to find words to explain how he felt. “Captain, I’m frightened.”
“Everyone on board is terrified.” She nodded at the helm station. “Even if we manage to repair the steering, we’re heading into open water.” She sighed. “And even if everything works correctly, we won’t be able to escape the storm, let alone sail against it. The only thing we can do now is going on as we are, and hope for the best.”
After a short silence, she added, “I know how difficult this must be for you, Master Arquin. But if you tell me you wish to return home, I cannot stop you.”
He nodded. “I understand. That’s why I’m asking you.”
The captain took his hands and held them tightly. “I am trying to do the best I can, Arquin,” she whispered. “I know I fail sometimes, but I’m always striving for that goal. And no matter what happens, you’ve got me. If you want to talk, or if you need anything at all, you’ve just got to speak up.”
She looked into his eyes, and the sincerity she saw there made her own heartache. “Don’t worry about your brother anymore,” she said. “He’s a good lad. He will do the right thing for your people.”
He nodded.
“And don’t feel guilty about what you did.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “What I did do?”
“A man is not judged by what he does, but rather by what he chooses. You chose to follow your conscience.” She released his hand. “And in so doing, you’ve given me the courage to do the same. I thank you for that. Now go and sit by the helm. We’ll wait until morning before we make any decision. It might have blown itself out by then.”
“All right.”
As soon as the door slid closed behind her, Arquin leaned forward to peer through the window. The sea lay beneath a sky that glowed orange-gold. Below, a small fishing boat rode at anchor, its sails furled tight. His heart sank as he stared at the vessel, but when he reached down to pick up his staff, he heard it move under his fingertips and his fear returned, along with a sense of calm.
He walked around the helm console, studying the ropes holding the ship to the deck. There were three of these, each thick with age, yet the whole thing seemed solid enough, though some of the riggings appeared rotten and worn.
He moved over to stand beside the helmsman’s chair. He was surprised to see that someone had already climbed down onto the floor below and was sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions by the rear wall. He squinted at his brother, wondering if it was Roffen or Kallan who was sitting there, then realized with shock that the figure was a woman. An old woman.
As if by instinct, he knew that this was the witch.
“You’re not supposed to be up here,” he called down to her.
Her head jerked up sharply, her eyes wide. At first, he thought she recognized him, but then he saw that her expression had changed. Instead of recognition, his mother saw something else in his eyes: fear, perhaps.
“We’re all scared, Arquin,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched and thin as if she had been crying. “But there’s nothing you can do to help us now. Go down. Please.”
Arquin didn’t answer. Something told him that his presence would be more likely to harm than help. With a last glance at his sister-in-law, he returned to the seat where he had found his sword. The storm raged all night and every hour that passed brought new challenges for those remaining aboard.
The wind picked up strength, throwing great sheets of the spray against the hull and making the ship shudder like an animal suffering convulsions. In the darkness, the sea boiled into a dark green froth and sent waves crashing against the bow.
When the rain finally stopped, the clouds above were gone. No star showed through the broken horizon; only a faint blue glow marked the edges of a new day, the kind that usually comes only after twilight.
The sea continued to boil beneath a blazing sun, and the air outside felt hot enough to sear flesh, despite being damp from the previous night’s rainfall. The storm had passed without leaving much of its fury behind.
“It won’t get worse?” asked Kallan, who stood beside him.
“I don’t think so.” A sudden gust blew off the sea, carrying the salt scent of seawater and sending rippling waves toward the stern. “If anything, this could get better.” He smiled. “There are no reefs ahead. I checked them earlier.”
Kallan shook his head. “That’s a lie.”
“Not really. Just don’t look too closely at the seabed.” He grinned again. “The rest of the ocean looks just fine.”
After several days of sailing, the land began to rise up behind them. The water narrowed into a strait which grew steadily narrower until at last, they came within sight of a cluster of islands. These were tiny, barely larger than rocks floating on the deep blue sea.
They looked uninviting, and for good reason – their shores were littered with rotting fish and other debris washed from distant waters. Yet the islands’ isolation made them ideal for fishing; and with every passing hour, the crew was becoming more hopeful that this might turn out to be their salvation.
The storm had left a wake of wreckage behind it and it was clear that ships had met untimely deaths at the hands of this same wind.
They arrived at the mouth of the strait before noon and found that a small fleet of trading vessels had already gathered there. Their sails were full of hope; they carried a cargo of wine and brandy from Tannur and other southern kingdoms, destined for ports such as Porto-Lusso, Sibornal, and Laris, all lands ruled by the House of Cessna.
“What are you staring at?” shouted one of the sailors at the back of the ship. His name was Dallar. He was a big man with a bald pate; he always wore a pair of spectacles and his fingers twitched uncontrollably whenever he tried to hold something.
At least, Arquin imagined that those were the gestures that went along with his twitch since the man never spoke. “Get yourself ready to cast off!”
A second later, the ship lurched forward and began to slide between the two jagged islands which marked the entrance to the strait.
“Look,” said Kallan, pointing at a group of men standing atop one of the islets. There were no women among them and only one child. All the others were tall, bearded, and dressed in leather armor. They seemed to have no interest in seeing any strangers pass. As soon as the ship rounded the narrowest point of the strait, they vanished into the forest surrounding the shoreline.
“Are we alone here?” asked Arquin.
“No, but they’ve seen us already.” Kallan turned to his father. “I’ll go and talk to them.”
Garth stared hard at Kallan, who shrugged and walked over to where the sailors were preparing their anchors. Arquin followed him.
“You know what they’re doing, right?” asked Kallan when they were out of earshot.
He nodded. “Of course. We’re going to ask them for provisions and maybe some information about where to find shelter during bad weather.”
“I thought you’d want to kill them.”
“I do.”
“So why not now? Why wait until we need them?”
“Because I’m curious about what happened to these islands. If nothing else, it might give me more answers to my questions. This might be worth watching.”
They watched the trading ships make their way into the strait. Soon after they entered, three barges appeared alongside their own vessel and two other trading vessels sailed around and anchored themselves at its side. Each barge was manned by a crew of fifteen or so men, most of them armed with swords, spears, and axes.
At first, the bargemen seemed content to let the trading ships continue on their journey. But then suddenly, with a single command, they began hauling their vessels backward toward the shore. Then they began to row against the current, heading back down the strait and away from the trading ships.
When the vessels reached the opposite bank, all the bargemen threw ropes into the river and hauled themselves aboard. One of them waved at the sailors in passing to say farewell; the gesture was meant to look friendly, but everyone knew that he was saying goodbye to his friends for months, if not years.
Then, as the boats disappeared into the forest, Kallan led Arquin back onto the deck. “Now you can ask me whatever you like about that,” he said, nodding at the retreating barges.
“And how did they become pirates?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s get back to work.”
Arquin took Kallan’s hand. “It might take a while to learn anything useful from these fishermen,” he said. “The question is: what now?”
Kallan gave him a smile. “We’ll stay out of sight and follow them for a day or two, see where they go. In the meantime, you can practice your spells.”
“Can you teach me?”
Kallan laughed. “Not tonight, I think. You’ll have to make do with just looking through the telescope.”
“All right. But if they don’t come back…”
“Don’t worry. They won’t leave this area without knowing we’re following them.” Kallan smiled again. “But I’ll make sure everything’s ready. By the time we reach Laris, the spell will be finished.”
That night, they slept at the foot of the ship’s mast. The stars twinkled in a clear sky; there was barely a trace of cloud to disturb the view. It seemed that the gods had finally decided to forgive Alaria, after all.
After dinner, when Garth had gone to bed, Arquin went up to his cabin to check on Kallan’s work. His son was sitting beside the telescope, working out how best to position it. “This is the last part of the spell,” whispered Kallan quietly. “When we reach Laris, I’ll send a signal to the other barge.”
“And then…” Arquin leaned close to his son. “Do it, then?”
Kallan nodded and looked at Arquin intently. “I’ll use my gift on you – only once. You’ll be unconscious for a few minutes, but I’ll wake you up before the spell’s completed. So… be brave.”
Arquin shook his head, trying to hide his nerves, and forced himself to take another step forward. He put his hands around Kallan’s shoulders, then pressed his lips on his son’s forehead, feeling Kallan tremble at his touch.
“Be strong, Arquin. Stay awake.”
Arquin felt his consciousness grow dimmer. He wanted to turn away, but something made him hold firm. For a moment, he was afraid that he would fall asleep, but suddenly there was an awful sensation in the middle of his chest. Something was tugging at him… it was almost a voice whispering in his ear…
“You’ve been chosen,” it said. “A child has been born with powers too dangerous to ignore. And you must save her.”
Something moved inside him – not like a physical thing, but like the sound of distant bells, or the smell of burning flesh. A sudden, overwhelming sense of power was rising, filling up every cell in his body… and then he saw the image of the young woman, floating in mid-air, trapped within a ring of fire. She was looking straight at him, begging for help.
“She needs me!” he cried out. “Save her! Don’t let her die!”
He heard Kallan shouting, “Father!” and tried to open his eyes to reassure him. He found his son’s face right in front of his and saw a terrible look of despair. He could feel Kallan shaking, trying desperately to break free of his grip, even though he couldn’t move a muscle.
But then something broke the trance. There came a blinding flash of light, and Arquin fell back on the deck, gasping for air, coughing up blood. He turned his head to find Kallan staring at him, wide-eyed with terror. “What happened?” he whispered.
Kallan didn’t answer; his mouth opened and shut silently several times before he managed to say: “I’m sorry.” Then he ran off the ship’s deck, heading for the beach.
The End