Ghosts of the Sea Moon Page 6

  The gathered crowd numbered large with all who lost someone assembled and many more besides. People lined the whole stretch of the beach, well up into the scrub and underbrush and along the path. Rafe scanned the faces. Most of his crew were here, ghosts and the living alike. Including, he noticed, Hugh Corwin who stood with Mouse and half a dozen other ghostly sailors at the edge of the sea. They kept away from the main crowds but seemed respectful of it all.

  “The dead will be well honoured.” Blackthorne’s voice haunted Rafe from the darkness.

  “Yes, they will. I suppose there’s some comfort in that. And I’m glad the crew’s honouring the fallen.” Then he nodded towards Hugh. “He’s making friends, I hope.”

  “Aye, in a fashion. He’s taken to Mouse. So, that group of quiet misfits who Mouse consorts with have included him. Good lads, so I let it be. Keeps the new one out of trouble at least.”

  “Some good news, then, and one less worry.”

  Movement caught his attention, and the captain turned to see the throng part to let the Lord Mayor, the harbourmaster, an aged cleric, and the town elders pass. Each man carried a ship’s lantern to light his way and a small scroll. Rafe knew each scroll had the names of the dead written on the parchment. One by one, the procession of men walked to the unlit bonfire and tucked their scrolls in amongst the wood.

  Rafe hung back, letting the town elders officiate the ceremony. Some of his crew mingled with the crowd: a bonded blend of the dead and living. Rafe looked upward. The night sky draped wide above him, the half-moon and stars now streaked with clouds. A thousand eyes gazing down to mourn the dead of Llansfoot.

  His gaze turned back as the seaport cleric walked to the unlit bonfire holding a burning torch and leaning on a gnarled cane.

  “We light this fire for remembrance. We light this fire to speed the journey. We light this fire to show the way home.” The man tossed the flaming brand, and it landed perfectly among the piled driftwood. Moments later, the alcohol-soaked wood blazed into fiery life.

  Sparks danced like earthbound stars, and the smoke wafted towards the drifting clouds. The pungent scent of the smoke tickled Rafe’s nose, and he inhaled deeply. He loved the smell, even on such occasions as this. He raised his head again, staring into the firmament of starlight shining against the black and watched the haze and ash ascend on the night’s wind.

  From somewhere within the gathered came the strumming of a stringed instrument, and the soft rhythmic thump of a skin drum. Soon the trill of pipes joined in, and the accompaniment of humming voices. In moments, a feminine voice began to sing, with others coming in including, Rafe recognized, Short Davy. Soon, the words of the song filled the space of the beach and reached sweet tendrils out to sea.

  My heart, it sings the sea’s enthrall.

  A sail unfurled, with wind and wave.

  Fair sailor’s life, those daring brave.

  My heart, it sings the sea’s enthrall.

  A sail unfurled, with wind and wave.

  Stars and storms, to death I dance.

  Adventure grand, a breath of chance.

  A sail unfurled, with wind and wave.

  Stars and storms, to death I dance,

  and salted tears fill the ocean deep.

  That broken rain, that widow’s weep.

  Stars and storms, to death I dance.

  And salted tears fill the ocean deep.

  My heart, it sings the sea’s enthrall.

  Come shine or calm, the rain or squall,

  and salted tears fill the ocean deep.

  My heart, it sings the sea’s enthrall.

  A sail unfurled, with wind and wave.

  Fair sailor’s life, those daring brave.

  My heart, it sings the sea’s enthrall.

  The song engulfed the beach, a chorus of voices linked across the sand raising their goodbyes to the stars, the gods, and the souls of loved ones beyond the mortal world. Harmony swelled building a tidal wave of poignancy until the last note broke and faded into the gentle wind.

  Silence settled as all eyes watched the flames crackle and the smoke curl into the darkness. Then the temple’s Grand Master stepped forward. Rafe inhaled a sharp breath. He hadn’t heard Kyyn would attend.

  The Grand Master bent down and grasped a handful of sand, turning to face the crowd. He let the grains slowly trickle from his fingers as the fire illumined his form in an orange glow.

  “Such is existence like sand through your fingers flowing fleeting. We cannot stop it. We cannot slow down the end. We only endure.” He turned and gestured to the ocean. “From the sea comes life. From the sea comes death. Everything is united in one circle.” Then Kyyn clasped his palms together. “When troubles come, we pray. We pray for the peace of our departed brothers and send our hearts with them to the After World. Those beloved are not lost forever, but wait for us to join them.” Hesitation cracked through his voice on those words so close to a lie. “May the dead go with solace. May the dead journey without care. We give them back to the sea and the stars. We give them back to the gods.”

  Behind the crowd, all his gathered priests bowed their heads and chanted:

  “We give them back to the sea and the stars. We give them back to the gods.”

  And then the crowd joined in. “We give them back to the sea and the stars. We give them back to the gods.”

  Rafe bowed his head but said no words of prayer. He knew the Grand Master’s words were well meant but hollow. There would be few souls from this attack waiting in the After World. They were lost. Gone. Devoured by the children of those gods mentioned in empty entreaties and words while the sea and stars watched with indifference.

  The gods, his family, let this horror happen. He was the only god that cared for the dead.

  And he failed to protect them.

  Chapter Eight

  Incoming Storms

  AS THE NIGHT LENGTHENED, the crowds dispersed, the beach settled into quiet, and the bonfire died to glowing embers. A sombre crew drifted back to the ship, lingering on deck, taking solace in each other. Shadows and unspoken words hung against the light from one lantern, the remains of the fire, and the ever-present stars and moon. A hush of uncertainty shrouded the men and the night.

  The captain leaned against the rail, a tankard of grog in his hand, and watched Blackthorne hand out more of the liquor to the crew. Silence clung like thick morning fog as men took their portions. None of the usual banter or jokes passed between them. The funereal pall of misery from Llansfoot still chased them.

  Captain Morrow raised his drink. “To those lost. And to those they left behind.”

  A weak chorus of, “Aye. To those lost.” rang up from the crew, but few took a drink. Most only stared into their flagons. A strange unease settled on the ship and didn’t look to lifting.

  Rafe glanced at the shore and the glowing, charred remnants of the bonfire.

  “It doesn’t seem natural, does it, boys? Something seems not right, out of order.”

  A murmur of assent rippled across his men.

  “That’s because there is something amiss. Trouble’s a-brewing. You all can feel it and I know it in my bones. The Moon Goddess has seen fit to fire a shot across our bow, gents. And a terrible, impossible one that hit hard. Now we have to decide what we’re going to do about it”

  Rafe smiled, soft and cheerless, and casually took a sip of his drink. Then he boomed, “Are we going to cower like fearful children and run from the trouble, or are we going to mourn like men and then take the fight to her? What’s it going to be fellows? Are we going to run or fight?”

  Rafe gave the assembled a hard glare. He could feel their backs go up at his insinuation of cowardice. For a moment, the deck held calm like a sea with no wind, before One-Eyed Anders stepped forward.

  “I can’t speak for these lily-livered rascals, but I say fight!” He raised his drink and then downed half of it in one gulp. Behind him more shouts echoed of “Fight!’ and soon the whole crew was dri
nking and shouting.

  The battle cry echoed off the waves, and, for a moment, Rafe fancied the reflecting moonlight shivered. It gave him hope.

  Be afraid, little sister. I’m coming.

  The wind rattled the sails in answer.

  “Nicely done, Captain.” Blackthorn sidled out from the darkness. “How bad is it, truly? Are we in deep?”

  “Aye. It’s as bad as it gets.”

  “It’s a different game, isn’t it? Do we know the rules yet? Or the how?”

  “Not yet. But we’ll get our answers, Blackthorne. We must.”

  “Then what, sir?”

  Unwilling to answer, Rafe hesitated. Then, spotting Hugh Corwin chatting with Mouse, he quickly changed the subject. “How’s our new recruit taking all this mess? You said earlier he was fitting in?”

  Blackthorne sighed at the captain’s evasion but did not press his question. Instead, he replied dutifully, “Aye. He had some anxious moments, but he did well helping out. Took the killing better than some of the old-timers. Steady as the tide, considering the raw memories he must have of her creatures. Surprised me a bit, he did, after his initial adjustment. But then, he’s new enough not to have the sense to worry about what’s coming.”

  “Or still too preoccupied with his own fate.” Rafe sighed quietly, not more than a breath of sound. “Do you remember when we were that young and foolish? No cares? No responsibilities?”

  “Sir, I’m not certain I ever felt like that.”

  Rafe stared for a moment and then chuckled. “Come to think on it, I’m not sure I did, either. Aren’t we a pair?”

  “Indeed, sir. It’s probably why we work so well together.”

  “And someone needs to keep the world running, isn’t that right Blackthorne?”

  “Aye, Captain. Someone does.” Blackthorne gave a nod and a touch of his hat, and slipped back among the crew, leaving Rafe amused.

  The efficiency of the man scares me on occasion. He always knows what to say to me. It was a damn lucky day for this ship when he came aboard.

  The sound of oars slapping against the water interrupted the night. Rafe turned, and in the lantern’s light he caught the silhouette of a boat rowing towards the ship, two shapes huddled in its confines.

  He leaned slightly over the rail, and shouted down, “Ahoy the boat! State your business!”

  A figure raised an answering hail, “We have urgent news for Captain Morrow and the crew of the Celestial Jewel. Permission to come aboard.”

  His gut knotting in nerves and dread, Rafe barked, “Permission granted!”

  He then looked back to the crew, scanning for Blackthorne. The man strode forward without being summoned.

  “Get them aboard and send them to my cabin. I’ll be waiting.” Then he marched past his crew and hurried below deck.

  The two messengers arrived minutes later to find Rafe behind his desk with a bottle of rum and three full glasses waiting.

  “Sit you two and have a drink to warm your bones.”

  The two, a sour looking gentleman and a tall, thin woman, settled into chairs and happily downed their rum. They stared into empty glasses. Neither seemed anxious to relay their news.

  Rafe took pity on them. “What’s happened?”

  The woman spit it out, her voice full of anger, fear, and bewilderment. “There’ve been more attacks! We’ve gotten word that Pentown and Echo Bay been ravaged. They even tried at Black Shoals, but the cannon there drove ‘em off.”

  Rafe closed his eyes for a heartbeat against reality.

  Damn.

  “When?”

  “Just before sundown.” The woman’s voice raked anger across the cabin. “The beasts were killing more souls as we were preparing to say goodbye to our dead! I want to gut them all and serve them on a platter!”

  “It’s an all-out war, then.” Rafe chased his whisper with rum and poured himself another glass. “Have the other seaports and islands been warned?”

  “Aye, sir.” A deeper, masculine croak of a voice replied. “Every spellcaster is up and spreading the word. Telling folks to shore up defences and evacuate inland as much as possible.”

  “Good. How bad were the casualties?”

  “Not as bad as they could have been, but lives were lost.” The woman snarled her lips, her voice dripping with venom. “Reports said Pentown’s storm wall took the brunt of the destruction but protected the town proper. Same can’t be said for two incoming ships. They went down with all hands. Echo Bay’s people got word in time and evacuated most beforehand, but the harbour’s smashed to ruin. By all accounts, it was the same as here. The creatures moved in, raised havoc, and left.”

  “Did the towns defend themselves at all? Did the Black Shoals’ cannon injure or kill any of the creatures?”

  “Aye. They got shots off all right. And the Black Shoals guns killed several by the reports.”

  “If those reports ain’t exaggerated.” The man chimed in again. “You know how those Black Shoals people be.”

  “True, but I’m thinking they were honest enough with this.”

  Rafe repressed a smile, despite the gravity of the situation. Seaport rivalry never stopped. “Was there anything else?”

  “No, sir.” The man hesitated, and the woman finished the sentence.

  “The Lord Mayor wants to know what you’ll be doing about this. Whether you can put a stop to it. So does Abersythe, and the rest.”

  “Direct. I like that in a woman.” This time he did smile, and she blushed. “Tell the ports we set sail with the morning tide, and this matter will be the only thing on our minds. I’ll get to the bottom of what’s happening, and yes, put a stop to it. If I can.”

  Mollified, the pair rose, returned their glasses to his desk, and shook Rafe’s hand with a, “Thank you, sir.” Then they took their leave.

  A few minutes later, a knock came at the door.

  “Come in, Blackthorne.”

  The first mate entered with a chuckle. “Am I that predictable?”

  “Just that competent.”

  “The messengers are off the ship and headed back to port. What news did they leave?”

  “Nothing good. There have been more attacks at three other ports.” Rafe heard a hissing intake of breath, but no other outward sign of shock from his first mate.

  He continued. “The beasts apparently took casualties at Black Shoals though, so that may deter my sister for a while. She might lick her wounds for a bit before trying again. We’ll sail out tomorrow, survey the damage, collect information, and make a plan of action. We need to start hunting these things down, Blackthorne. And figure out how this is possible.”

  “It’s truly come to that, has it?”

  “Yes, old friend, it has. It’s worse than I feared. This wasn’t an aberration.”

  “So the spell holding the beasts in check has been broken?” Rafe nodded, and Blackthorne sighed. “Is there no way to fix it? Put them back under restraint?”

  “You know as well as I, once a spell’s been fractured you can’t repair it. And the conditions that led to the original binding were unique. It’s unlikely I can recreate them or the spell. The monsters are off their tether, Blackthorne. For good. They’re free.”

  FAR AWAY, A MOURNING dirge crooned on the silver filaments of moonlight and wind. A wild-eyed Goddess of the Moon gyrated on the sand pouring her heartbreak into the night. From the dark sea came answering wails as her children lamented for their lost siblings, and she dropped to her knees, hair the colour of hoar frost brushing against the sand.

  She balled her hands into fists and screamed, “You said they’d be free! Not dead! You promised me the chance to end him! To end this pain! Liar!”

  Around her, the shadows outside her moonlight quivered, and the air above her turned to mist. The haze coiled and writhed, forming the shape of a huge crow. The bird sailed the air currents, circling ever lower, until it settled on wet sand, the tide touching its feet.

  From its coal-bl
ack beak, a hoarse voice uttered, “I gave you the spell. You set them free. Your brother holds them in check no longer. I did not lie.”

  “They were defeated! They were killed! My brother still roams the seas! He will find a way to stop them. To stop me!”

  The bird cackled and flapped its wings. “A sorrow, yes, but not a setback. You did what was needed. You did what you do best. Strike out, lash out, hurt, hurt, hurt. Calamity and upheaval. Just enough to sow fear and turmoil to bring another player into the game. She is ready to do her part, lead your brother along the path to where he needs to go.”

  The Moon Goddess frowned. “Path, what path?”

  “To the place for the killing stroke.” A cackle and a flap of wing punctuated the words. “Where does your brother hold his power? Where would he be vulnerable?”

  The Goddess of the Moon then smiled. “I know, I know. His place. His place of power.” She traced a circle in the sand with her finger. “Out in sea, the faraway sea. Where they cross on waves that toss.” She laughed, her voice echoing into the night.

  The crow hopped about and shook its wings in response. “Yes. That’s where you must strike. I tell you true, he will travel there soon and open his doom. You must send your children through.”

  “Through?” She tossed her arms upward and let out a screeching whoop. “Off on an adventure, yes? To destroy it all!” Her laughter rained down over the beach. “I can take it all away. No more souls, no more worlds, no more brother!” She scooped a handful of sand and tossed it in the air, staring at the crow. “I will send my eldest. He will tear down it all down.”

  The crow screeched, “No! Send them all through! Attack in force when it’s time! Send them all!”

  The Goddess scowled and screamed back, “Don’t tell me what to do! I’ll send who I wish! Do as I wish!”

  “Then you will lose! As you always have! Listen to me!” With a strident caw, the crow leapt, his wings catching the air currents. “Send them all! I command you!” The bird soared above the ocean, tossing final words to the glowering figure on the sand. “Oh yes, my Goddess of the Moon, send them all through when I tell you! Rain annihilation on both worlds! Destroy everything! Turn it all to ash!”