Author's note: To the 20 or so still reading my apologies that this has taken me so long. Thank you for sticking around and I hope you enjoy!
Blood of Avalon: Chapter 21: Chart without Course
He turned on me. I knew that some of Meleri's prophecies warned that he might but I'd never actually expected him to DO it, not my Sparrow. The ill-wish that had called up the malevolence had been his draig but the second gorychymyn when he threw me out of his life – that had been Sparrow. I laid my head in the hollow of Sea's neck and shoulder. I was the Prince of Avalon. I was born to privilege which carried with it specific obligations. I sighed, not today, I'd be the Prince of Avalon tomorrow.
*You've never really been – are you actually going to start?* Nimrais mocked *And why are you astounded? Of course he turned on you. He's a draig – it's what we do.*
"It's what you did. In case you missed it, that's why you're extinct. And not against teulu."
*Not necessarily against teulu. Besides you never told the boy who he was.*
"Teulu is more than Blood."
*Teulu is nothing but Blood. What is it the dynol say? 'Blood is thicker than water'.*
I closed my eyes, the echo effect was finally gone but the pounding in my head and the dancy lights persisted. Granted had been less than a day since my first (and LAST!) foray into mind healing. Hopefully they would fade given a little more time. According to Peregrine Sparrow had yet to regain consciousness but that wasn't necessarily unexpected. The injuries had been devastating and the ruddy, bloody fool hadn't let me finish my work. My head had no doubt that he would survive but damn it all I wanted to see it with my own eyes.
*Sniveling, ungrateful little brat, and you were a blind fool to ever delude yourself*
I whirled on him throwing everything I was into the grey no-place where the Shades of dead Draigs dwelt. I caught him in the head with my tail spikes before he even knew I was there hard enough to flip him onto his back. I was on him in a flash but he matched my speed twisting away trying to bring his teeth to bear. I beat him at the turn sinking my teeth deep into the thinner scales at his throat latch, tearing deep in what would be a killing blow – if he hadn't been dead for millennia. The icy cold of the dead flowed up my jaw making my teeth scream in their sockets, I answered with living flame as I shook him like a shark with seal. His riposte was a wave of raw power meant to cast me off. Seemed a rather amateur and desperate move. Regardless I dug in and the force sent both us rolling across the inner court of Great Gate. This was probably as close as I was going to get to going home and I was doing in the realm of the dead, undead, what the hell ever. I'd taken enough bullshit off of Nimrais. Enough, enough, enough, enough, enough. No more. I made certain he was the one that slammed into one of the orthostats. I scrambled out of the way before the lintel stone could land on me. As I wondered if the damage we did here would be reflected Over the Hill. Nimrais leapt over the stone spewing cold fire. Now, THAT was really pointless. I think he was angrier than I was. I hoped the damage didn't transfer, the graves of my ancient ancestors and Riggion kin had suffered more than sufficient insults at the hands of the Christians. I reared up on my hind legs swinging my head around using it as a club this time, my brow ridge caught him precisely on the thinnest part of his skull, I felt his fragile cranium give even as one of my spines snapped off. He screamed. I hadn't been certain I could do him any real harm given the whole dead for millennia thing. I grinned (as much as a draig's jaw could) when I noticed the broken brow ridge had pierced his eye. Petty but that was the one I'd let myself fall into as a very young fool. Was this really all Nimrais had? Nimrais had been by far the most feared of the Geat Draigs but how powerful had he actually been? Clearly less so than Agnar but his wit far outstripped Agnar's (granted that wasn't saying much. I was fair certain Pearl could think rings 'round Agnar. Blast Sparrow for touching Risanca – he might have gone his entire life without the Red Draig ever realizing he lived).
He scuttled backwards out of the uprights and beyond bluestones toward the Dike, the Moat, and the Circle of Oak that confined the Shades within the Gate. The Shades of the Draigs could use and appear to those through whom the Blood flowed but as long as the Circles held the Shades themselves were confined within the interlocking rings of the Gate. I hesitated, having no desire to be the one that restored their liberty (though what WOULD a pack of Driag Shades do? The Draigs had died over eight thousand years ago but the Gate and Circle were less than six thousand – why the gap if it was so vital to keep them caged? Regardless, best to leave that a hypothetical question – besides someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to create the Great Gate – there must have been a damn good reason). I hesitated but having begun this ill-advised battle I had no intention of backing down until I'd taught Nimrais his place – right under my claws… except would it be wise to humiliate the White Draig? Clearly not but my own Draig would not yield either – that inability to back down was what had destroyed the Draigs in the first place but I just could NOT do it. And Nimrais wouldn't stop, troth couldn't stop either, as I'd pointed out there was a reason draigs were extinct. So how did I stop this now that I'd started it? He glared at me as I leapt out of the Circle going unimpeded where he could not follow. So what was the wise move, aside from not starting this folly in the first place?
Above the Oaks were long gone, here they were thriving, with girths greater than any living tree. I could only catch glimpses of him between their colossal trunks as he snarled and growled in impotent rage. I took a breath I had a draig but I was an Ellylon.
Even as an Ellylon I could barely slip through. The grooves in the bark were wide enough to swallow me whole. I leaned into a niche and glared at Nimrais "Nice try but I'm not helping you get out of here." I wasn't certain that Nimrais had been goading me into a fight in hopes of breaching the Gate but it was a perfectly plausible possibility and more importantly it let both of us save face, well what was left of his. He snorted and glared at me with his intact eye before letting out a whistling laugh from his perforated throat.
When he spoke it sounded like every word cost him "I want out. I saw an opportunity and tried for it. I know of no way for any but the summoner to fight the abomination your half-breed brother has called up. You'll need every scrap of wits and strength you can muster. This isn't the first time someone has let that…. thing in, no one has lasted long against it. Good luck, llanc."
There was wistful almost grieving note in that good luck and I wasn't sure what emotion to ascribe to that llanc but it almost sounded paternal? Seriously? He'd tried to devour my soul at one point. There was NO doubt he'd known what I was going to be walking into in Avalon but I'd gotten not one word of wisdom or warning. And now? This? Was he manipulating me? Was this all some sort of bizarre notion of Draig parenting? If so no wonder the draigs were gone. Hades how had any of them managed to survive to adulthood? And more importantly how what had happened to the other a Nimrais? Never mind. I'd been away from my body for far too long, even for a necromancer.
"Set me free and I will grant you a swift and merciful death" I rolled my eyes that was that supposed to be a temptation? "That abomination will grant you neither."
"I'll take my chances" I retorted the Malevolence wouldn't be my first impossible kill and it wouldn't be my last. But the fact this was the first time Nimrais unequivocally thought I couldn't win sent a chill down my spine.
Jack closed his eyes cursing quietly "Whatever that thing did te ye I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Ye might have left some word precisely how I'm te go about getting rid of it" he complained equally softly. I yelped as my arm hair caught fire. I used Jack's sash to smother it as I glared at Nimrais on Risanca's pommel but he had eyes only for Jack who swallowed noisily. "Wish me luck" Jack said trying downplay his fear as he stretched across. Nimrais didn't wait for him to actually grasp the hilt but unwound himself as much as he could & lunged forward sinking teeth and claws into Jack's forefinger. When Jack's eyes went as dead as Mallory's I reached out to wrench Nimrais off him but Henri stopped me "Sand in the glass, sand in the glass."
"That means wait a minute" Gibbs offered as if I couldn't figure that one out on my own.
"He had better come back himself" I snapped at Henri who knew what that Draig might do to him and Henri's expression was anything but encouraging.
Jack snatched his hand back, ashen pale under his tan.
"So?" Commodor Norrington prompted into one of the longest silences I'd ever heard, or not heard as the case, may be from Jack.
Jack visibly started then said in a worryingly flat tone "Apparently even my brother couldn't figure a way to kill the Malevolence. Just before taking up a new enterprise as a structural element in a sand dune he did figure out how to trap one." Mallory stirred eyes darting under lids that couldn't close completely, wasted bits of sinew that passed for muscles tensing under dried leather skin as he muttered a disbelieving "no".
"Hush" Jack swirled a thumb over his temple. Mallory tossed his head in response but didn't fully rouse. "I've got this watch. Ye just rest." That garnered an amused sniff. "I'll call ye if we spot sail but we've fair winds and following seas. Ye just let Sparrow stand the bells. Zander will keep me in line", Mallory's brow furrowed briefly in confusion at that "We've called a truce just for ye, bosom friends we are, savvy? Isn't that a pleasant dream? My watch, mine, please" As Mallory finally relaxed the lines of strain around Jack's eyes and mouth smoothed. He wiped the sweat off his brow "And they call mules stubborn. Mr. Gibbs would ye be so kind as te fetch me medical chest?" Jack asked as he looked at us in a mix of anger, defiance, and sorrow. "Just te be clear, aye me pride and wanting te prove I could get The Pearl back without Mallory's help was part o the reason I ordered him off but it's only part. From day one the crew always questioned why a man o' Mallory's quality n' caliber was doing playing merchant captain. Never paid it much mind until Venice. He damn near glowed. He had a spring in his step I ha'nae seen since he married off Marie. After that I'd catch him the wee hours looking back toward Europe. I'd seen enough homesick hands te know a case when I saw one. Kept dropping hints that I wasn't a wee lad anymore; that I could look out after meself." He drew a deep breath "I realized when I woke up aboard the Peregrine with him putting me back together that he was never going te cut the apron strings on his own so I ordered him off. Biggest surprise o' me life when I woke te find him really gone. Figured he'd finally gotten sick of it all and gone back te minding his own affairs. Whatever happen, whatever it is that thing I unleashed did I always thought ol' Mallory had gone back te something finer than minding Captain Jack Sparrow."
That might have been the longest single speech I'd ever heard of Jack.
"I can't banish the Malevolence while it's in Mallory's trap and Nimrais is o the opinion that it might be useful against our Sire. Thank ye" he told Gibbs as he started riffling through its tiny drawers. "Ah ha just the thing"
"What are you dosing him with?"
"A drop o' white tea because I'm nae going te be able te keep him out much longer and I doubt things will go well if he wakes in the middle o' me shaving his head."
"I very much doubt Capt. Sparrow that your brother will appreciate having his head shaved at any time" Commodore Norrington observed dryly.
"Aye, well that's the only way this is coming out" Jack pointed to the solid mass of what might have started out as tiny braids threaded through sea shells but was now a single snarl of hair encrusted by salt and sand "And it needs te, before he wakes, it just… needs te."
"We should at least attempt to untangle it before we indulge in such drastic measures" Commodore Norrington replied.
Jack sighed in disappointment "I was looking forward te tattooing his head."
"Indeed?" Commodore Norrington intoned.
"He could use a bit o' ink" Jack defended.
"I doubt he would agree – Mr. Gibbs, Elizabeth have you any idea where I might procure some hairpins?"
Jack gave him a dubious look but gestured for Elizabeth to resume reading. She leafed through several pages before settling on one with a smile.
A blacksmith, the boy would want to be a blacksmith AND actually have a gift in that direction. Young Mr. Turner had both the gift and the raw skill to be an amazing swordsmith. Odd that, gifts usually flowed in a straight line but Bill and the Whelp had definitely made sharp right turn from the rest of the Blakes. I looked over the shelves, running my hand down the spine of one of Mannwan's treatises and closed my eyes. I'm so damn sorry. Draigs I wanted Mannwan at my side not dead on that thrice benighted island's beach. I wondered what Mannwan would say about me giving some of his finest work to a dynol child. The lecture would likely have lasted for days.
It will be exceedingly pleasant to have a keen student for a change. Draigs knew Sparrow had been too slothful to be a good student even when he was interested. I flicked an ear to the east. I had a few months before the next Hunt arrived. Very little time to teach him because if I couldn't find Bill (which should be patently IMPOSSIBLE he was part of the Lighthouse spell. I could find every other descendent of my erstwhile Old Blood servants without even trying. I knew where every other member of Barbossa's nasty little band miscreants was every waking moment. And damn Barbossa's brwnyllys eyes. I had managed to make stepping ashore…uncomfortable and dangerous for him. I might not be able to fool him with Shadow but I could completely confuse his crew. They killed a tithe of what they thought they did and not all that glitters is gold. Barbossa was no smith more than half his swag was worthless. Why was one Sparrow's wishes so determinedly keeping Bill hidden from me? Why had it stopped me from saving the vessel that had brought the boy here? Was this some play of the Malevolence or something more benign?) I shook off the pensive mood and wrest the book free of the brimming shelf and headed back into town.
Just walking over the threshold was like pushing boulder uphill but the boy's desperate face made it worth
"While I've no doubt Mrs. Turner that you and your husband would find Mallory's true thoughts on his time with young Mr. Turner fascinating there are undoubtedly other more pertinent entries" he drew a deep breath "and I haven't tried to do this since I was elven, nearly two decades at sea have roughened my hands too much Elizabeth would you be so kind?"
"If ye don't mind me asking" Jack said eyeing the Commodore in confusion "why is it that ye're familiar with untangling matted hair at all?"
He was quiet for a moment "My older sister used to demand I help her get the tangles out so that no one in the household would realize she was riding at night."
Elizabeth frowned in confusion "You never told me you have a sister."
"Had a sister – her horse landed in her lap." He took the journal from Elizabeth as he handed her the hairpins.
I circled the flame blazing on Medwyn's table one last time before extinguishing it in frustration. After the Malevolence's initial attempt to kill Sparrow it had spent the last few years just watching like an outstandingly hideous gargoyle until a fortnight ago when it had simply vanished. I could still feel its presence slowly poisoning the planet like a foul sludge on the back of my throat. It was still here, somewhere, but its presence hung like a blinding fog rendering it impossible for me to pinpoint its spoor. I knew in my bones that after years of plotting it was finally ready to act. I also knew that in those years it had learned far more about me than I had about it.
Medwyn recognized my frustration and did not compound it by offering me empty reassurances or placating platitudes. A rare jewel of a man. He offered me a square meal I had no interest in instead.
"You'll need all the strength you can muster against that thing" he held up a hand "I know you can manage without – but don't pretend you don't have to pull power from within to do it. Don't give that thing any advantage you don't have to."
Even with the finest of ingredients I doubted that Mr. Gibbs' cooking would ever rise above mediocrity and these were NOT the finest of ingredients. I sighed but dutifully dug into it while Medwyn read his latest missive from home aloud. He was looking forward to handing over his command and returning to his wife and children as soon as his replacement arrived. I was happy for him, verily, but I was going to miss the Dominant. Evenings with Medwyn, Zander, and Chris had been delightful whether it was a game of whist, training them in swordplay & sailing, or just playing the cetera as a counterpoint to their diverse and sundry discussions. While I'd sailed before the mast briefly in the past I had always been focused on achieving a particular objective and I'd certainly never willingly mingled with the common folk even when pretending to be one. I'd reserved whatever passed for camaraderie for those closer to my own station in life. While I still wasn't completely comfortable among the hands nor were they without reservations about me (the current favorite theory was I was a lord's bastard son stashed here from a vengeful wife) and I had no delusions about what they would do to me if they even suspected the truth I was enjoying the not quite but close to it acceptance and the fact that I was essentially responsible for nothing. Well no command decisions anyway there was still a nation to save, a brother to watch over from a Grychmyn enforced distance, undead pirates to deceive, and a Malevolence to defeat but honestly things had been fairly quiet of late on all fronts. Only when I'd lost myself as Jonathan Sperling had I had more peace. Hell I was baiting Cavendish just to fend off boredom. So how was I going to kill off Cavendish without upsetting Medwyn? Usually brwnyllys were incredible judges of character but Cavendish had the wool pulled so far over Medwyn's eyes he was in danger of tripping over it.
As Medwyn finished up the letter I reached out for the cetera. I had made a few discoveries about the Malevolence, first blessings caused it difficulties at least and what appeared to be actual physical pain at best. They didn't seem to be able to completely stop it but they did slow it down. Wishes had a similar influence though decidedly stronger. Where wishes and blessings met the thing seemed to be stopped cold which was what had saved Sparrow's life when the thing had tried to kill him as its first act in this world. That didn't mean that it couldn't use others as its proxy though, many an individual who would have let Sparrow pass or never would have noticed him now attempted to kill him often for nothing more than the fact that their eye happened to light on him. I'd been doing my best to mitigate the damage but this was a task far more suited to Sparrow's gwelt talents than my own. I'd tried repeatedly to send missives to Sparrow but even Sea had failed me and between Sparrow's wishes and the Malevolence's interference there had been more than a few deaths, enough that I had reluctantly ceased in my attempts for the foreseeable future. 'Spells' as the dynol referred to them required nothing but clear intent and power. Most others required some sort of ritual to achieve that clear intent. I generally didn't but I did find that while blessing or cursing the mental exercise of crafting poetry or song helped significantly. So I played - much to Medwyn's delight. I might not know what the Malevolence was up to but I could still try to ruin its day.
Commodore Norrington flipped a page before continuing.
What was he thinking? Was this rash overconfidence my fault? Aye I can take the Gallant – but not without exposing myself as something other than a dynol. Damn it all Medwyn I thought better of you! I listened to the beat to quarters with a heavy heart. I'd been a fool to assume that Medwyn wouldn't use me like everyone else who learned the truth & didn't immediately turn on me like a rabid wolf. I sighed. Medwyn was only thinking of his coming retirement and family not of doing me an ill turn. When I'd come aboard the Dominant Medwy had been deep in debt. His share of the prize money he'd made since had gotten him out of debt and to the point that he could live frugally back home but bringing in a ship of the line? That would be more than just a feather in his cap it would allow him both to retire comfortably and give his children opportunities. Yes he should have thought about it and ASKED me, I wouldn't have denied him, while the thoughtlessness stung he wasn't being malicious. So I'd just have to kill off Cavendish a little early, I'd been planning to leave the Dominant anyway a few months after Medwyn. It was annoying that I wouldn't be able to see Chris & Zander safely settled with the new captain as Mallory but Shadow would serve. I squared my shoulders, take the Gallant first & sort out the rest later.
Mr. Gibbs fell in behind me as was his usual wont. The first time he'd done it I'd wondered if he meant to slip a poniard between my ribs but I was now fair certain he just figured it was the safest place for a member of the boarding party to be. Even my Draig couldn't seem to whip up any enthusiasm for this particular fight. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well if were done quickly. I muttered quoting Will & led us over the rail with an ear splitting roar.
Killing dynol even en mass had long since ceased to be a challenge but I set to the task with a grim resolve. If I could cow the rest maybe I could keep the butcher's bill to a minimum. Of course keeping prisoners in check with a small crew had its own…what the bloody hell?! I blinked in surprise and was nearly run through as I allowed myself to be distracted by the sight of the Malevolence riding a cannonball. Draigs Medwyn!, NO! nonononononononon! I roared my rage and howled my grief. That thing was DEAD! The draig flared magnesium bright with no thought but to reach the Malevolence who now stood on the far side of the Gallant's remaining crew. Its presence reached for me, smothering me in its fetid glee until I could see and hear and feel nothing but it. There was nothing but the Malevolence I was drowning in it. Chocking on it, hacking blindly at anything in my path….
Until the music, faint but clear
So here is a plea to you, my friends, let this music linger on,
May it find me in the evening winds, or in the summer's dawn
To lead me through death, darkness, and storm.
To guide me ever homeward lest I be lost forevermore,
Like a candle in the window bright, like a lighthouse on the shore
And a light that cut through the murk & with it came awareness of the world. Sweet Jesus what the hell was I doing?!
"Zander?" how had he gotten in front of me? I, I? Following Zander's cue I pivoted to cover Mr. Gibbs who clearly had been planning to knock me unconscious except if he had hit me hard enough to render a dynol senseless he would have smashed my fragile skull to splinters. Why would Mr. Gibbs… Oh, bloody damn. I was a killer but I wasn't this. I wasn't ever this. Quick, neat, clean and above all precise – controlled. Always always controlled, sloppy gets you killed. Minimum damage maximum effect. Not blind slaughterer not ever, ever, ever that. Or not ever again. Rathlin, I'd lost myself at Rathlin and… I dropped both blades to the deck covering my face. Stupid that sloppy too. Not being able to see wasn't going to fix anything but I couldn't stop shaking as I swayed, fire & ice running by turns through my veins as my mind spun like a top. Here and there, now and then run together in blood I'd never initially intended to shed except I had. I couldn't stop seeing them nevermind that I hadn't actually seen them when I'd done the deed itself couldn't stop hearing the mothers begging on Rathlin when. No!No!No!. Rathlin wasn't now Rathlin wasn't here. This wasn't Rathlin. The world was too bright yet muffled and everything was wrong. I could hear Medwyn plain as if he was standing before me instead of sprawled on the deck missing most of his head "Don't give that thing any advantage you don't have to" and here I was doing exactly that. Never let them see you bleed. I ran I hand over the yuck – I'd gone entire battles without getting this much gore on me. Eww. Before answering Zand…Lt. Norrington. The Malevolence crept close enough to whisper in my ear leaving me reeling from the poison it exuded "Medwyn was only the beginning. Just first blood. You may have won the second point but I'll have you kill this one by your own hand yet. I'm going to have a delightful time bleeding you dry without ever touching you." I liked the thing better when it didn't speak. I was the Prince of Avalon. I straightened shoulders back head high – I would NOT be cowed by this thing. I would NOT let it drive me mad, not ever again. It was hardly my first swaggering bully. It grinned, winked, and vanished. I truly fully focused on Lt. Norrington for the first time. How far would I have gone if the old Lighthouse spell still anchored in his blood hadn't broken through whatever it was that thing had thrown at me? I owed Zander a greater debt than I was likely ever going to be able to repay for his courage today. Oh Sparrow please, please, call for me before that thing kills someone else…or uses me to do it.
As Norrington skipped ahead Elizabeth threw down the pins and scissors in exasperation. "James this isn't working. We're going to have to cut it off and let him borrow your spare wig."
Anna-Maria slapped the scissors out of Jack's hands "Ye let me have a go of it first."
'You're heavy' Sea complained when I stirred. I wanted to sleep for a year but I slithered free of the chain and cannonballs I assumed Bledri had used to weight me before sending me over the side. Decent of him not to return the lead lined coffin 'favor' I'd done him but then there hadn't been one available on the Dominant. I had a notion I should check with Wind to find out what Sparrow was entangled in but sleep beckoned so fetchingly. Something growled and my first sight was of the Malevolence glaring at me. From its mien clearly I'd 'won' this point as well. I didn't feel like I'd won a damn thing. It might just be a body but the last few days had really, truly, and profoundly HURT and while I'd absolutely known the crew would savage me it didn't mean that having men I'd had to keep reminding myself weren't true friends pound me to what they thought was death didn't wound. Sparrow's Draig had wanted me to hurt. I did. If this was winning…
'Find me a place that thing can't follow' I whispered to Sea before sliding back down into the dark of unconsciousness.
There was sand in my ear. There was sand in my ear I could feel someone looking at me. Someone who wasn't the Malevolence which was good but I wasn't exactly in the most advantageous of positions to defend myself. I opened one eye a sliver and found myself nose to nose with a mestizo girl of about six with eyes the color of the sky just before a storm hit and an enaid that rivaled Argellion's in the depth of its green. Reds might be the delight and bane of my existence but I'd yet to meet a green I didn't like even if most of them bored me if I tarried overlong.
"Breimi!"
She didn't even glance up even though it was clearly her name and from the look of things her mother was bearing down on us. Interesting, very interesting the words were mostly Yanum with a dash of Carib but the grammar had a decidedly Arawak source and was that a welsh word? The language was more of a mutt than English. The girl wasn't just mestizo she had a dash of Old Blood – very, very far back. No discernible Gift but she was young enough it might still develop. I doubted it though not enough of the Blood left. Definitely Annefnyddiol roots not Bonhedigg which was odd because more than half of the Bonhedigg were Bristol born or at least had family there. Annefynddiol sailors were fairly rare. I pulled myself to my feet before her mother arrived to snatch her away but the girl wiggled away and to my surprise wrapped her arms around my waist. Did she just say I'd been attacked by a soul eater & needed to be taken to the shaman? Clearly she had some sort of Sight – so much for no noticeable Gift. The mother eyed me warily but her stance softened considerably. I despised pity. I forced myself straight. I was the Crown Prince of Avalon – I needed no one's pity. The mother's retort had me whirling to the east. I nearly went down as the world spun several more turns than I'd actually made. Well that was more than enough reason for any mother to panic. 105 knot winds, storm surge of at least 3 fathoms, and wide enough to swallow this island a score of times over it was rapidly bearing down on this little spec of land and being ridden by an absolutely furious Malevolence. Clearly it was less than best pleased that I'd found a way to ruin the family reunion it had planned for my Sire, my brother, and I. I drew several deep breaths gathering up the scraps of strength I'd gotten back since the aberath. There was no dispersing the storm at this point. So I would turn it aside as much as possible and then hold the whirling winds at bay. Draigs it was a leviathan but it turned, far too slowly though. I created a current to sling the thing around, back out toward open water, and then to starve it. I pulled shearing winds down from the north to knock it down from above. Then I started to build a dome over the island only to be staggered by contact with another power. Something old, tremendously ancient and like nothing I'd ever encountered before. After the first brush it completely ignored me so I returned the favor since I hardly had the time or vigor to do otherwise. I choked back a scream as the Winds from the outer bands bore down on me in a frenzy so fierce that for every one I calmed a thousand more came but I stood. Whoever the people were that lived here they had nothing to do with the Malevolence and I would NOT let them pay the price. I dug in against the juggernaut. How had the thing diverted it here? Like the cannonball it had made the storm a weapon but it hadn't created it to begin with. Focus, focus just me versus a million raging Winds. There was no more time for thinking.
How did I end up in a hammock? And why was a small someone sitting on me? I gagged, sputtering as Breimi tried to pour some sort of broth down my throat. I blinked at her as she said something that sounded like I should eat more. I was fluent in all of the coastal languages but most of the words were from the interior. I knew enough to follow the gist but not necessarily the full meaning. I took the bowl of broth away from her in self defense. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me so I took a drink. Pretty good actually. I drained it dry to her delight. She kissed me on the forehead before skipping off. That girl was going to be a heart-breaker in a few years.
Given that her mother had not a drop of Old Blood in her veins I assumed the man not meeting my eyes was her father, from his paint the shaman, and in possession of a surprisingly strong healing talent. Certainly one strong enough to perceive something recent events and my history. Couple that with his daughter's Sight and I was effectively far more naked than they were. Uncomfortable with the entire situation (though if they'd had a problem with my pointy ears they had had ample time to act upon it) I sat up in the hammock. He set a wooden tray and cup before me with a reverent bow.
"Mallory" I said.
"Ihirothawe" he insisted instead. Wasn't that some sort of weather deity? "The Shamatari" he waved at the shabobo "here you are welcome." He kept his eyes on the floor I couldn't understand half of what he said but I knew shame when I saw it in an enaid.
I made my best guess at asking his name and received Turaewe as a response. "Why guilt?"
More words I couldn't follow. He frowned and said in slow wretchedly accented broken Welsh "Healer. You I not help. Hurt, much hurt past body."
I caught his hand before he could actually lay it on me, more touched than I cared to admit. I was Shadowless, ears, eyes, and blue hair laid bare and all he cared about was that my enaid was broken and he couldn't help and it upset him, deeply.
"Not your fault, no one can fix this."
He sighed & nodded "Mighty warrior, eat, rest, war under another sun."
Rest sounded wonderful even if every instinct I had was screaming at me not to trust them. That this kind of acceptance was far too good to be true.
"What is under the reef?"
"That Which Watches."
Interesting name but not exactly informative. As far as I could tell it either wasn't intelligent or it had dismissed me – did I want its attention? What might I risk by forcing the issue? I couldn't stay here without knowing more. I swung a leg over the hammock and…
Well this was deja-vu to my chagrin I was fairly certain Turaewe had scooped me up after I collapsed and tucked me back into the hammock. Breimi was snuggled up on me all lanky limbs with her head pillowed just under my chin. Her mother looked highly amused which was an immense improvement over the beach when she'd looked like an angry bear, even I didn't get between a mother and her cub. Speaking of cub – the babe in her womb was positioned all wrong for delivery and she was within a fortnight of term. I lifted a hand only to realize it was covered in green & white paint. I suspected if I hadn't roused my belt buckle so there would be no repeat of my being disarmed (& I still couldn't believe I been so wretchedly sloppy as to let Mr. Gibbs do so on the Dauntless) that I'd likely have woken up nothing but paint. I reminded myself that there's a difference between compassion and pity. And that there was no reason for me to ever come back here again Turaewe was a Healer he could deal with his wife's issue. Peregrine had arrived while I was unconscious I could sail on the next tide. With all of that Blood in the water even once Avalon figured out I wasn't dead no Wild Hunt would be able to track me for several years. Sparrow's Gorymyn wouldn't let me help him and troth I couldn't even hear him over my own Blood. Oh Draigs the only way I was going to able to find Sparrow for at least a year if not two was with Wind – and even in denial Sparrow was better with Wind than I was and he was wishing me away. So outside of northern Europe any port was open to me – except that would leave no one to watch over Barbossa & his crew of miscreants but then who said they had to be awake for Sparrow to chase them?
It was very contrite Winds that came to bear my 'lullaby' to the Pearl. Sparrow's wishes were driving all toward young Mr. Turner and his lass in Port Royal – let them sleep until Sparrow's opportune moment. A little Shadow and a little mystery would keep the legend alive. So what to do with myself? Clearly I couldn't linger here I was born to privilege and its obligations even if I wasn't sure how to fulfill them right now. I glanced up as Breimi's pregnant mother brushed a hand lightly over her daughter's head. I fought not to flinch when she laid a gentle hand on my cheek.
"You here welcome stay."
I hoped that my reply conveyed my appreciation without committing since I never planned to return. Breimi blinked at me before asking me to have breakfast with her. It was a few hours until the high tide and it would be terribly rude to refuse. I could bring a few things up from 'Grin before going, share and share alike as it were.
This time 'Grin didn't bother chiding me. He'd known my reasons and while he didn't like my solution he hadn't been able to think of a better one given that he knew better than to ask me to leave Sparrow to our Sire's non-existent mercy.
"All things considered you look better than I expected."
"I suspect Turaewe has something to do with that." I checked the larder. Since I hadn't been sailing on Peregrine of late it was a bit bare but my vermin banes kept things fresh far longer than any dynol methods and I'd restocked at every port call just in case I needed to make a sudden departure from the royal navy. I debated a moment over if I should use a rucksack or a basket. I settled on basket.
"Any port in particular you want to visit when we leave tonight?"
"Why leave tonight? Why not stay a while?"
I paused waiting for him to continue "The Watcher won't let anything in from below, with your skill with Wind and Sea you can keep the Malevolence out from above and no dynol sailor is ever going to navigate the reefs. We could use a safe port and they don't care about your rank or your pointing ears."
"You know about the Watcher?"
"I had to talk my way in. Sort of. It's a very alien mind but I'm certain that it means neither of us harm and that it hates the Malevolence."
I threaded a back strap through the basket, considering. "We leave on the tide. It IS an alien mind – it might do anything."
"What about the woman & her unborn – if you leave and she dies in childbirth you're going to mope for months."
"Turaewe is a Healer."
"But how good is he? And how much could you teach him?"
"Why do you want us to stay so badly? I thought you liked it best when it was just you, me, Wind, and Sea."
"I do but you don't" he retorted softly "at least not anymore. Not since you came back from Avalon. I don't understand why you NEED to be around people but you do. And these people have seen you for what you are and welcomed you. I know that's rare and I think you should give this a chance."
Except they hadn't seen me for what I was. They'd seen my pointy ears, Draig's eyes, and ability to turn a storm but they hadn't seen me. Not really. I glanced in the mirror. Bledri had a point back on the Dominant. I played roles – did I even know who I was when I wasn't 'The Prince of Avalon' or 'Captain fill in the blank'? And if I stayed would they still welcome me back when they truly knew what was behind all the masks? I swallowed a little frightened of the very idea.
"Give it until she's safely delivered. The worst they can do is exile you."
"Or you might be wrong about the Watcher."
"Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"
No, no he hadn't. When in Rome do as the Romans. I striped to the skin, slipped the strap over my shoulder, and headed for shore.
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