If I Were a Herald
Chapter 30
The Gods Are Not Crazy
A/N (12/10/05): I got Crossroads on—Thursday? Yeah, Thursday. After my boyfriend took me to Busch Gardens. So, more Valdemar inspiration. And I apologize for the lateness of this chapter—I kinda said I'd get it up today, and I meant to have it up by noon, but I haven't actually been home all day. First we went Christmas shopping, and then we went to the birthday party of my little brother's girlfriend. Oh, and now that I've finally gotten to the story, guess what I went and did? I was trying to write a song for this chapter—because, you know, the water just inspired me—only, when I actually started to write a song, it was about Chaos. And it turned into the Song of Chaos. The new version. Because the old version frankly sucked. Although there was definitely more power in the old version. But this new version has stronger intent. Not that that would actually make sense to anyone but me. It has to do with my theory of magic and there being power in everything. It'll show up in one of my stories eventually. Probably in The Emerald Enchantress, actually, which is what I'm (currently) calling my modified version of this story. I'm going to try to record the song. Anyone who wants to be able to travel to Omalya, ask me for a copy of the song. I have good news. The writers of the Geico commercials are dead (I wish) and my dad helped me install a sound-recording program on my computer. Which means that (as long as that cheap microphone I got off the free table actually works) I can record songs whenever I like. At the moment, cheap mic is in Sarasota, while I'm in Melbourne borrowing my dad's mic. It works. Which means that I have recorded "Herald Death" (without a tune; it needs one, badly), "A Pirate's Life for Me," (it sounds horrible, so I'll probably record it again when I can actually sing) and "Song of Chaos" (which somehow turned out quite well).
Nawyn: Hehe. Apparently my space-taking techniques went off very well. And I sing bawdy songs to/with pirates all the time. Our favorite song is "Drunken Sailor." But there's actually an entire story—well, only three chapters so far—based on a drunken conversation amongst pirates while I sang "Do Virgins Taste Better."
Tempeste-Silere: Painting people odd colors sounds like a good idea. Something Rachel would think of. But messing with peoples' minds is not nice at all, and neither Lyrna nor I would approve. Thanks for the ideas.
Jerry Unipeg: Yeah, that's the hard part. Since Mortimer is way out of my league, I need to pull some nasty tricks in order to defeat him. And the longer I wait, the more danger to the not-so-innocent bystanders.
D2queen: I'm here (well, there, now; I'm actually at home at the moment) because it suits me. Mostly. Until people start discussing politics. And expect everyone on campus to share their soft fuzzy views on life. My latest nefarious scheme is to go deer hunting with my dad (it will happen), shoot a deer, and, as part of a long-standing tradition, since this will be my first deer, have its blood smeared on my face and take pictures. Then post those pictures on my facebook profile. cackles evilly
Dark Angel Lytha: Ooh. I sympathize. I'm easily distracted too. Luckily for you my distraction usually turns out to be my story. You must lead a deprived life indeed. No pranks. To tell you the truth, I haven't done many pranks in real life, either. The problem with most pranks is that somebody ends up pissed, and then it's just not fun anymore. But I should definitely play a prank on Jello, because he deserves it. Just for being himself. On general principals, you know.
"Jimmy! Get down from there!" My heart near stopped at the sight of Jacoby's young son swinging from the rigging.
It was a beautiful day. The winds were strong and steady, the sails were full, and the sun shone down on the clear blue water. Dolphins leapt and played near the ship. They frolicked in the foamy water left in its wake. It was the kind of day that made me want to write a song—or at least find a song that suited it, and sing with my heart in the music. Sing with emotion, a tribute to the beauty and perfection.
"It ain't no danger," Jimmy replied. The young boy swung down from the mast. Before his feet touched down, he let go of the rope he was holding. For one heart-stopping instant I thought he would miss the spar. But no—he landed on it in a crouch. His body teetered precariously. Once he had his balance, he stood.
Children, I thought disgustedly. Always taking risks.
:In case you don't remember, you were a child once, too. Have you grown up on me: Naturally Lyrna had been following my thoughts. She always did—at least the ones on the surface. The ones that would show up in a story. If anybody ever wrote a story about me. Maybe I would have to do that someday. Write a story, that is. About me. About my life. I had a journal, but that just wasn't the same thing.
:No, of course not: I told Lyrna. :I'll never grow up.: Okay, so I had been that young once upon a time. And almost as reckless. The young are always full of their own immortality.
:And the not-so-young are always full of themselves: Lyrna teased.
:Moi: I asked innocently. :Oh, no, never:
:Yes, you, you ape. And you're one to talk about immortality. You want to go attack a merchant ship. Like it's some kind of lark. Not only is it wrong, it's dangerous.:
:Not as dangerous as taking on Mortimer: I replied soberly. :Not as dangerous as falling into a Sun-Priest's hands in Karse.:
My attention returned to Jimmy as he spread his arms and leapt from the spar. His arms came together. His body aligned itself into a swan dive. Unable to tear my eyes away, but afraid of what I would see—or not see—after he hit the water, I watched in what seemed like slow motion as he fell. His arched form approached the glistening water. At the last moment he straightened. There was barely a splash as he entered the water. What splash he made was nothing compared to the already-present splash of waves against the hull of the ship.
A dolphin broke the surface near where Jimmy had entered the water. Not just a dolphin—there was Jimmy, on its back. But how was he getting the dolphin to cooperate? Dolphins were uncannily smart—some might say even smarter than humans. I know I did, on occasion.
:You are dense: Lyrna said. :I was already thinking it about…something else, but now I know. He has Animal Mindspeech, remember:
:I feel stupid.: If I'd known what Lyrna meant when she said that she'd already been thinking me dense, I would have felt even dumber. It's just, well, I'm not really big on subtle. I can figure out mystery books pretty well, but that's books, not real life. You find the formula, and then you apply it. In real life, well, I can add two and two as well as the next man—probably better—but it just doesn't occur to me to do so. In this case, however, I was being particularly dense. The clues were screaming in my face, if I just knew how to recognize them. If I'd just thought to look for them. But I didn't.
A shadow fell upon the ship. Looking upwards, I saw that a cloud had blocked the sun. More clouds were stumbling toward us, like drunken Irishmen trying to get home from a bar. Lighting arced from the clouds to the water below. Thunder boomed as fat drops began to fall on the ship.
There followed a typically Kali encounter. I dove into the water after Jimmy, knowing that there was no way—even with my loud mouth—that he would hear me over the crash of the sea. Lake, excuse me. At the moment it looked more like the Atlantic. A very angry Atlantic. But Jimmy seemed to be oblivious to the approaching danger.
I hadn't done any diving in quite some time, so my skills were a bit rusty. I turned too fast in the dive. Misjudged the distance, one might say. And I hit the water on my freaking stomach.
Oomph.
Talk about having the wind knocked out of you. I couldn't even think enough to remember why it happens. Not that it would have helped any. Knowing that your diaphragm froze up isn't much use when you can't breathe. Especially when most people on Velgarth wouldn't have been able to spell diaphragm, much less tell me what it meant.
I fought for consciousness as the oxygen supply to my brain was cut off. No air means no oxygen, means Kali is going to faint. Which I promptly did. I came to slowly. All my limbs were numb, heavy and kind of tingly. Feeling returned gradually. My back rested on the deck of the ship. And Jacoby—Jacoby leaned over me, one hand on my chest, the other cradling my face as I coughed up the water that I'd swallowed.
"Taileffer?"
"Name's—not—Taileffer," I coughed. "'S Lightning."
"Lightnin', then. Be ye alright?"
"Fine," I assured him, sitting up. My chest spasmed, leading to another coughing fit. About half of Lake Evendim spewed forth.
Thunder rumbled. Lightning sparked. Rain fell.
Splat.
A large raindrop fell on my arm.
"What the bloody hells is with this weather?" Jacoby demanded. "It was clear jus' a minute ago."
"The gods 'ave gone crazy!" Kent said.
I shook my head. This wasn't the fault of the gods, though it may have seemed like a curse. The clouds had appeared far too suddenly for it to be the result of anything natural. Added to that was the fact that they were only gathered above the Bloodred Falcon. The horizon—what could be seen of it through the pouring rain—was as clear as the sky above had been only minutes before.
There was a mage somewhere causing this. It could be the result of a carelessly placed Gate—like the time I'd Gated into the Companions' Field—or it could be intentional. "Wizard weather. Almost as bad," I said to the frightened pirates.
The winds picked up. Now they were too strong for the ship. If we didn't furl the sails, the ship could very well break apart. I was left alone as all the able-bodied crewmembers, captain included, rushed to save the ship. The creaks and groans lessened to a tolerable amount.
On deck, I was tossed about like a rag doll. I rolled over onto my hands and knees. The movement of the ship did not in any way help my stomach, which was protesting all the lake water I'd swallowed. I crawled to the edge of the ship and puked into the roiling waters below. Ugh. Seasickness. At least I was sober. Drunk, this would have been too much to handle. Although puking when drunk didn't seem quite as gross.
Mortimer came from his cabin and demanded to know what was happening.
"Bad storm," I replied, finally getting to my feet. I clung to the railing for a few moments, then stepped away. It took concentration to retain my balance, but I managed. I'd always been rather good at balancing. As long as there was some reason I shouldn't be. On steady ground I was liable to trip over my own two feet.
I did not want Mortimer to know that I knew anything at all about magic. That could lead to him testing me for the Mage-Gift and finding out just how much of it I had. And the fact that it was active. He'd kill me instantly. A blood-mage like him couldn't afford a rival.
"So why aren't you helping?"
"I'm the captain's girl. I do all my work on my back."
:I cannot believe you just said that: Lyrna said.
:I'm not sure I believe it, either: I replied.
My rather embarrassing—and untrue—revelation did achieve one thing. It convinced Mortimer that I wasn't worthy of his attention. I'm not sure exactly why; if I had something I wanted to conceal from the captain, the last person I would trust would be the captain's lover. Perhaps he thought I was just a brainless slut.
"That Stormwind thinks he can drown me with his signature weather. Him and his meddling," Mortimer muttered.
Oh. So that's why he was called Stormwind. A mage who could control the weather. Tricky business, weather-magic. The slightest mistake could make everything go awry. And now he was doing his level best to tear the ship apart before it reached land.
:Yo! Stormwind: I Sent on a private channel.
His reply came back, startled overtones coloring his Mindvoice. :What:
:It's me again. Herald Kali. Stow the storms. I happen to be aboard the ship you seem so eager to sink.:
:What're you doing there: he demanded. :Mortimer's on that ship; what if he recognizes you:
:I know that. I'm trying to stop him from getting to Valdemar, same as you: I replied. :And he's not going to recognize me. He never saw me before I boarded the ship.:
:If you're trying to keep Mortimer out of Valdemar, you're not doing a very good job.:
:I'm working on the problem: I informed him. :You younglings have no patience whatsoever.:
Now he sounded rather amused, and slightly offended. It was only to be expected, since our ages only differed by about three years. :Younglings:
:Yeah. You're the same age as my little brother.:
I could "hear" his exasperated sigh over the link. :You may be older, but you have no control over your magic. It's completely untrained.:
:I know my weaknesses. Do you know yours? You know, you're not that much better off than I am. You might have control, but your power cannot match Mortimer's stolen blood-magic. No one on Velgarth is a match for him.:
:Then how do you plan to stop him, elder sister:
:A knife in the back will kill even the most powerful mage.:
:Ah. A practical Herald.:
:And a patient one. I learned patience at the hands of a Sun-Priest in Karse. One must always wait for the opportune moment.:
:In that case, how goes the back-stabbing:
:I'm working on it: I assured him. :So far I've managed to convince Mortimer that I'm not a threat. Now will you please stop meddling with the weather:
:Alright. You've got a week.: With that, he broke contact.
There was no immediate change in the weather. The source of the storm was gone—I could tell that by the lessening in the magical energies—but the storm itself still raged.
Mortimer returned to his cabin, probably puzzled at Stormwind's sudden change of heart. No doubt he thought Stormwind was up to something.
I had by this time recovered enough to help with the last parts of securing the ship. Ropes were strung all across the deck to help people navigate its slippery surface. The crewmen who weren't on duty gathered belowdecks. They were cold, wet, and miserable. I figured it was a good time to break out the booze. As quartermaster, I was in charge of rationing things. Before this I hadn't bothered to ration the alcohol, and I wasn't about to start now. But I had at least taken inventory, so that I would know what choices I had. I knew where it was stored. So I made my way to the stockroom, hanging onto various protrusions to keep from falling over. I returned with enough booze to last the crew for an hour, at least. For myself I kept a bottle of whiskey.
:You realize that drinking right now is a bad idea: Lyrna commented in a tone of voice that told me she really didn't expect me to listen. :You're going to get sick, and you've only just gotten your stomach under control.:
:I know: I replied. :But I'm going to need this. I do not want to face a hold full of drunken pirates stone-cold sober.:
Yeller teased that I probably couldn't even drink the whole bottle of whiskey. His comments really didn't affect me—in fact, at another time I may have joked right back that I probably couldn't—but I felt like responding. "Oh really? You just watch me." I tilted my head back and drank down the whiskey until there wasn't a drop left in the bottle. Ugh. I think I just burnt all the skin off my tongue. And my throat. Oh, and look, there goes my stomach.
:I told you it wasn't a good idea.:
For entertainment, I took out my fiddle. "It was a dark and stormy night, or so the Heralds say," I began. "The lightning striking constantly transformed the night to day." Well, if the lightning made it bright as day, then it couldn't have been all that dark. "The thunder o'er the castle round, or thusly runs the tale, and rising from the northeast tower, there came a fearful wail." I proceeded to sing the tale of a countess with a terrible voice who died during an awful storm. "At length the Heralds then pronounced her death as suicide, and all within the district voiced themselves quite satisfied. It was a verdict, after all, that none wished to refute, though no one could imagine why she tried to eat her lute."
The pirates applauded and demanded another tune. I obliged them with a personal favorite of mine, "The Gods Are Not Crazy." "So drink, drink, to Charlie Ford's memory, marvelous doings and marvelous sights. Drink, drink, we may as well join them. The gods are not crazy, they're higher than kites!"
Reviewer challenge: I have now written the chorus and a few verses to the Song of Chaos. Eventually, it is going to be very long. But for the moment it only has three verses. The chorus goes as such: Chaos, Chaos, take me out of here, to my home so fair, I want to be there, Chaos. The verses are as follows:
Dolphins leap and pirates sail,
Stranger creatures still they wail,
Thinnest here is magic's veil, Chaos.
Oh, enchant me magically,
In the land there by the sea.
That is where I want to be, Chaos.
In the land of which I sing,
Possible is anything.
Tell me, are you listening, Chaos?
The challenge is to come up with new verses for the song. If I like them, they will become part of the official version—slightly modified, perhaps, because I'm nitpicky, but you will still get credit for them when I publish the story. Be forewarned, however, that by submitting them to me you are foreswearing all rights to monetary gains from the lyrics. But I will love you forever. And your name will be mentioned when I publish my book. I'm also working on the song "My Lyrna's Eyes," (this one's for you, Jay) if anyone has any suggestions for that.