Vantra curled her toes in the sand, delighting in the crunchiness of it as she watched the caroling dance with the brisk beach breeze. She had not visited the ocean before she died, and only had experience with river and lake shores, which contained far more rock than the expanse of yellow-white sand. Now that she could stroll along the water, sink her feet into the wet beach without the threat of Finders finding her, she did so with abandon.
Kjaelle squeaked and ducked as Vesh cupped his hands in the water and attempted to swamp her with a ghost-made wave. Vantra grinned at the antics and glanced back at the blankets spread on the firmer soil; Red and Katta ate with Verryn, Lorgan sat and watched the waves with a satisfied smile, while Mera and Tally questioned Laken on his time as a privateer. His initial reluctance receded at their teasing, and his snappy replies elicited giggles from the entire group.
Perhaps she needed to delve into his history as well. She cautiously avoided asking about his time alive because he became upset at so many things, but she also understood his punishment in the Fields affected his perception of others and his expectations of terrible treatment. The mini-Joyful navigated his temper better than she, and she hoped their acceptance of him continued to cut through the layers of mental wall surrounding him, forming a door, however small.
Afternoon wind picked up and whisked her hair about her, sending the wisps of mist out to sea. She snagged the purplish-red strands and pulled them to the left side of her head, holding them out of her eyes. Her experience on the island would be nowhere near the same if she did not understand Physical Touch as well as she did. Not as well as ghosts who could gulp down as much food as living Verryn, but she hoped to gain the ability. Oh, to eat again!
She would follow Evenacht tradition and savor an elfine leafcake first. Then she would find the spiciest sweet pastry the evening lands offered and indulge.
The bent trees lining the beach dropped loose fronds, which landed with a soft plunk on the dirt below. While they somewhat resembled tropical foliage on Sensour, their bark was a greyish teal, their fronds a darker blue and twice as large. They reminded her of floppy umbrellas curving out and down, with the tips of some brushing the sand.
Bushes scattered between them rustled in the strengthening breeze. The winds had gently touched Haunting Wind Island when they first arrived at the docks that morning, needing to fix something or other on the Loose Ducky. Dough said the island’s boat mechanic was one of the best, a sailor who passed away within the last hundred years, and who continued to learn about the modern Sensour ship motors and engines. He had the supplies and know-how to repair the problem.
Vantra pondered, if the pirate had not docked to show off a friendly resort on a beautiful ocean gem.
The rush of water beyond Vesh and Kjaelle caught her attention. A large body curved out of the water, blowing droplets in all directions before submerging. The greol. It had followed them from Fading Light along with a swim of timids, and the group remained off-shore, as if waiting for them to continue their journey. The pirates found the behavior odd, for not only did it not swim in a herd of its own kind, but the whale-esque animal also kept them company. Greol were notorious for disliking ships and playing rough—Dough coughed at the term because they sank so many—but this one swam in the distance, content to let them be.
The wind flipped her skirt, and she tamped it down. The new thin-strapped lilac dress she wore enjoyed playing in the wind. She admired the item in one of the tourist shops while the mini-Joyful looked about for knick-knacks because it reminded her of an ancient elfine flower dress, with a skirt that overlapped in points, like petals. Wishing she had funds to purchase it, and reminded of why she did not, she continued exploring, her interest and joy diminishing despite the cheerful displays and intriguing artworks.
Despondent, she excused herself and returned to the cabin, attempting to settle her emotions, and there it sat, on her pack, with a pair of knee-high, laced black boots.
Owning an outfit not associated with the Finders thrilled her, and she wallowed in the relief she did not have to maintain them. Spells for wearing them in either Ether and Physical form already infused the materials, and she sensed a deep reservoir from which they fed. It blended Light and Darkness, too, so more than one mini-Joyful had a hand in preparing the enchantments.
Which meant she did not know who to acknowledge, so she thanked them all. She smoothed the skirt and smiled. Perhaps not the most extravagant gift, but one that touched her heart.
Another gust battered her, harder than before. The caroling cheeped and whisked to her, alighting on her shoulder and burrowing into her neck, using her hair as a shroud. She glanced at the vigorous waves, then at the darker clouds hovering on the horizon, and skipped back to the mini-Joyful.
“I think a storm’s coming,” she called.
“I think you’re right,” Kjaelle replied as she studied the larger waves rushing past her knees. “I guess we came ashore just in time, eh?”
“Dough said the repairs will take another couple of days,” Verryn commented as he sucked on a fruit slice. The pink, fleshy flesh looked good and sugary, and she wished she could taste and try it. “So we’re stuck until it blows through.”
Mera snagged Laken, and the twins stood. “I wish we’d known about this place sooner,” she pouted. “We could have taken our last break from the Joyful here! It has a fabulous beach, and the tourists are non-existent!”
“You mean out of season,” Red said as he licked his fingers. “I can imagine the rich and bored taking time to lounge on this shore. The air is fresh, the foliage is luscious, the water’s a beautiful shade of turquoise, the waves are gentle, and if one wants a bit more excitement, they can go to the other side of the island and get the bigger gusts and bigger waves.”
“Um, guys?”
They all looked at Vesh, then in the direction from which Vantra came.
Fourteen humanoid natives ran up the beach, sopping, waving hands and yelling in panic. They were taller than the mini-Joyful, with deeply tanned skin, wide eyes, and sparse attire.
The lead, a gangly youth, screamed at them. “Pirates!”
Pirates?
Vesh and Kjaelle raced to intercept them as the rest rose from the blankets and peered at the horizon.
“There’s a ship coming in,” Verryn said, covering his eyes with his hand and squinting into the distance.
Green lightning struck the water in that direction, an eerie, unnatural sky color, and darker fog hovered around the space.
“Vantra, did you bring the spyglass that Dough gave you?” Red asked.
“Yes.” She dug into the large pack Kjaelle insisted on bringing with them, which held a variety of items, including the plain silver spyglass the pirate lent to her after she showed an interest in his. He owned a beautiful one, made of warm crimsonwood and held together with gold-washed metal decorated with gleaming swirls. He claimed the innards were not as traditional as the exterior, and the one he loaned her had more in common with modern Talis computerized binoculars than older spyglasses, but she did not mind. It still instilled a sense of pirate-y happenings, and she loved looking through it.
She handed it to Red, who lengthened it and placed it to his eye, moving the gear that controlled the sight. “Water witch spells, with the typical green lightning. Verryn, look at the flag.”
The syimlin accepted the glass and squinted through the eyepiece. “White circle on a crimson background? That’s a Deri Glora flag.”
“Thought so,” Red said drily.
“Deri Glora?” Vantra asked.
“They were a network of pirates,” Lorgan supplied. He had his hands shielding his eyes from the daytime brightness as he squinted at the horizon. “I encountered one of their ships on a Redemption twenty years previous; nasty lot, though they left me alone after they attempted to take my Candidate and ended up discorporated. They had a vast network of native- and ghost-captained ships that sailed all spanses of the Evenacht, and made a name for themselves hitting any vessel, from small fishing boats to cargo ships, no matter how well protected. There were rumors they sold their captives as slaves to other evening lands.”
“They did,” Verryn said. “And I put a stop to that.”
His firmness made Vantra frown. Tally caught her confusion and grinned.
“Verryn acts as Erse Parr’s hand in the Evenacht,” she reminded her.
“I cursed them,” he intimated. “I told their leaders, if any of their number sold a native or a ghost, the entire fleet would sink. They ignored me, as I knew they would—and every boat sank. A few of the hardier ones regrouped, and they thought ousting their leader and changing their banner would solve the problem, and it didn’t. Crews that left the organization and thought that would break the curse found out the hard way it didn’t. Not one has figured out the link I targeted to initiate it, but it’ll be with them for as long as they reside in the Evenacht.”
“’Cause they’re blind,” Mera supplied.
“Yep.” He sighed. “And now it appears at least one ship is sailing under their flag again. I wonder if it’s a regroup, or if someone who doesn’t know about the curse thought to re-ignite a defunct organization whose reputation they could steal.”
“Ask Dough,” Katta said. “Despite his remoteness on the Snake’s Head, he seems up on current events concerning sailing around the Evenacht.”
Green lightning struck again, and Vantra shivered. The color bothered her; moldy bright, slicing the clouds surrounding it and leaving behind particles that befouled the grey with toxic smudges. Red called the spells typical for a water witch, but no author described their magic as contaminated when she read about them.
“That feels like a water witch spell mixed with a Darkness base,” Katta said, frowning into the distance. “Unique implementation, but unstable.”
Verryn handed the glass to the Darkness acolyte, who peered through, then chuckled. “Oh my. It appears the greol took exception to the magic.”
A flash and a puff of smoke burst into the air, darker than the approaching storm. More flashes followed, interspersed with green lightning and a lingering teal glow.
“Dough said they like to play rough,” Vantra commented, uncertain.
“Uh, yeah, I’d say so,” Katta said. “It just tore an enormous hole in the hull, something they aren’t going to fix before the ship sinks. So, do we save them or let them make it to shore on their own?”
“We save them, we can contain them and chat about why they’re flying the Deri Glora flag,” Verryn said in a commanding tone.
Kjaelle and Vesh ran up with the winded natives steps behind, as concerned and serious as Vantra had seen them. The group stuttered to a halt, bending over, gasping, while the two ghosts stopped in front of them.
“They were on board a ship out of Merdia called the Seunsik, captained by a native called Jhegun,” Kjaelle said. “The pirates attacked as they were coming in to dock here, there were explosions, and Jhegun ordered the passengers off the ship. They don’t know who else made it here, or if the Seunsik sank.”
“I didn’t see another ship in the glass,” Katta said.
“I sense several small boats, some off-course.” Red stood, arms crossed, blankly staring before him. “And a large vessel beyond the pirates, half-submerged. Unfortunately, the storm is impeding a good probe, as storms are wont to do.”
“Between you, me and Katta, we should be able to rescue all the survivors, despite the interference,” Verryn said.
“Rescue the pirates?” the gangly youth asked, flabbergasted, looking back at the green lightning, running webbed fingers through his dark brown hair and dislodging the strands stuck to his damp skin. He uncovered a red swirl tattoo that arched from his cheeks and over his dark greenish-brown eyes, and Vantra wondered if that meant something, since none of the others had one. He wore shorts with a multi-colored sash that formed a triangle in the front and back and hung to his knees, but no shirt or footwear. Had he lost them during the flight?
“Oh, we’ll stick them on the beach under shield,” the ancient ghost replied, waving a hand to dismiss his concern. “Time for a miracle, Mighty Syimlin of Passion,” and he smacked Verryn on the shoulder.
The natives gasped and recoiled as the man widened his stance and focused on the horizon. The swell of magic shocked Vantra; yes, she knew he was a deity, but the amount of energy he casually summoned terrified her. How much had he held back, fighting the lackershell? Nothing remained of it but runny goop, and he drew nowhere near the power then that she now sensed!
Katta and Red stood near enough to brush his arms, their attention elsewhere. Their combined power prickled through Vantra’s essence, terrifying in magnitude. Theirs equaled what she sensed from Verryn; did they manipulate that much power, or did Light and Darkness work through them?
Kjaelle and Vesh herded the natives to the side, their calm words, motions, bringing them down from their terror. Mera handed Laken to her, and the twins took guard positions behind the two ghosts and the syimlin. She glanced at Lorgan, but he focused on the three, his mouth open, aghast, as he took in the spells they created.
“Ease up, Verryn,” Katta said. “Pretend you’re brushing Rayva when she’s being twitchy.”
Red grimaced and looked over at the other ghost. “You don’t have a better description of a gentle touch?”
“You’ve never tried to brush her when she’s twitchy. You have to be more gentle than gentle.”
Katta had brushed one of Veer Tul’s watch vulfs? How extraordinary!
Mera noted her interest and laughed. “It’s not as exciting as you think,” she told her with a wink. “Rayva and Salan are particular about how they want to be brushed—and they’ll let you know if you’ve done it wrong!”
“You’ve brushed them?”
“We all have, even Qira. He’s allergic to their hair, poor dear, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t brought him the brush and demanded he brush them.” Red sighed and the twins giggled. “It’s like a massage for them. Of course, they stand chest-high, so it’s a production to do it. That’s why Erse punished Sojavan by making him brush them when he was a kid. He’d spend an entire day getting them all nice and shiny, and if he left before he finished, they’d hunt him down and dog him until he did.”
“They even bring the brush to Erse while she’s in the middle of judgments,” Tally laughed. “They get prickly if she shoos them away.”
She had no idea the pair were so strong-headed! Her interaction with them consisted of them growling her into the Tunnel when she arrived at its entrance, confused after her unexpected death and uncertain what to do, where to go. They had not seemed cuddly or cute enough to brush to her.
“You’ve retained an allergy after death?” Laken asked, perplexed. “How does that work?”
“Horribly,” Red said, obviously unhappy with the terribleness of it. “In ghosts, allergies manifest as a mental sensitivity, something that can be hard to shake because it was such an integral part of the living flesh. My entire being gets itchy around them. Usually I just shield and that’s enough of a mental flip I can play with them, but it doesn’t work with brushing.”
“He brushes them and plays up the sniffly sneezy wobbly essence, and then they get sad and nuzzle him and find someone else to brush them,” Tally said.
How often did the mini-Joyful visit Death’s Forest Temple? Did they visit any associated with Veer Tul and Talis? How she would love to explore those famous religious centers!
Katta pulled at his lip, studying the flames engulfing the ship. “Well, you could form a shield and come up from below. Scoop them up, like using a spoon.”
“Eh, dump the pirates in a pile,” Red said with cheerful aplomb. “It’ll show your displeasure, and who’s going to complain to a syimlin about it?”
“Qira,” the twins said in disapproving unison.
“Vantra, Laken.” She looked over at Kjaelle. “Come on. We need to go alert the island to the new arrivals.”
Her words coincided with a boat appearing with a resounding thump to the side of the fleeing natives. The beings inside were yelling at each other, and the sound stopped abruptly as their paddles smacked sand and did not penetrate. They looked around, bewildered, and Vesh trotted to them, grinning.
More popped into view, all in a state of panic, all flabbergasted as they hit hard soil instead of water with paddles.
Zthump. Zthump.
One after another, ghosts and natives appeared in front of the three men, half-buried in sand, arms out as if floating in water, some holding debris, screaming and shrieking. Dozens populated the beach, some close enough to the swelling waves to get inundated. Others, in hunched positions that struck Vantra as having been in a smaller boat, sank to their chins, their wide-eyed fear replaced with numb confusion before reverting to terror.
Red’s laughter soared over the shore, biting in intensity.
Kjaelle snagged her hand, her lips smashed together to withhold her amusement. “Let’s go.”
