Secrets of Knusaijax Teaser

Deep in the bowels of the Knusaijax Underdark lies the Makah’rye, a magical object of legendary powers to heal and to save. For hundreds of years, it has remained unused - indeed, virtually untouched - for fear of the consequences it brings. It is said that, when used, it will tip the world off of its axis, causing unfathomable destruction, and, within two fortnights of its use, the world would come to an end. So for thousands of years, the Makah’rye has passed from hand to hand, leaving each person more terrified to use it than the last.

             Except me.

---

             “Bane!” I called up the mast, my footsteps ringing across the surface of the water in the narrow port. Bane wasn’t his real name, of course; everyone in the crew had a title, a name that they were known by on the ship and that they were famous - or, I should say, notorious - by. Only I knew the real names of most of my crew, and Bane, my steadfast first mate, was no exception. I, however, had no title; I needed none. My title was my name, and the name of Delia Vataea was likely more famous than any of the crew could hope to be.

             Bane leapt nimbly off the rigging and slid down the mast, smooth black from years of careful, meticulous polishing. His boots snapped on the deck as he landed, and without bothering to dust himself off, he gently inclined his head, awaiting orders.

“We need to set a new course.” I said, my voice decisive with the weight of a final conclusion. “To the island of Knusaijax.” Bane nodded, easily mastering his expression of surprise. To any normal person, this request would have sounded preposterous - but Bane simply saluted, perplexion dispatched from his dusky complexion almost immediately, and turned to call a couple other crewmates to him before he strode off in the direction of the helm. 

My ship, the Splendor, was very likely larger and sleeker than every ship within a fifty-mile radius, and made so by years of plunder and charlatan’s work. You couldn’t help looking at the Splendor and being intimidated, and for good reason. She was my pride and joy.

Letting out an involuntary sigh and climbing the stairs to the fo’c’sle, I stood perched up against the ship’s railing, surveying the skies and the horizon. If I was any judge - and I trusted my judgment on sailing more than anything else - it would be a fine night for setting off.  One thing that’ll go right, I thought. I had a tingling feeling there wouldn’t be a lot of those things during this voyage.

My helmsman, Fuego, was perched on the railing in front of the wheel, gazing down at the deck. Fuego was one of our newest sailors, and I could tell he was thrilled for the voyage, especially for the moment when he would finally be able to grasp the coveted handles of the ship’s wheel - on this voyage, my sixth with him on the crew, he now and for the first time held the venerated responsibility of steering the ship on its course.

Hearing my footsteps on the deck behind him, he turned around, standing straight at attention with a face lit in anticipation. “Captain.” he said, more of an exclamation than a statement. “May I ask when we are leaving?” My mouth twitched upward into a grin.

“Tonight, if possible.” I said. “I’d like to get out at the first tinge of dusk.” Sailing at night was potentially more dangerous, but I knew that I could have full and total confidence in myself, my crew, and my ship, and, besides, it gave to the Splendor a sagely mysterious air to appear out of the misty sea darkness in the thick of the night. 

             I paced absentmindedly to the end of the rounded forecastle and back, taking in the crowded, muggy village and straining to see if I could spot the smoke pluming from the modest cottage where Anastasia lay. I wonder how the doctors will say she’s doing this week, I mused ruefully.

Resting my elbow on the railing and turning my head over to the right, I gazed off into the distance and willed the soft plumes of smoke from the distance to distract me. It didn’t work - almost magnetically, my thoughts drifted back to the voyage at hand, and after only a restless moment, I sighed in resignation, clapping my hands onto the wooden railing and pushing myself off with a jaunty, elegant swoop. I had been procrastinating - down underneath the fo’c’sle in my quarters, stacks and stacks of maps still lay strewn around and disorganized, and there was no way that I could begin the voyage without having organized them first. I had time, nearly a day until embarking, but I needed to do it soon, or else I’d be working late into the night over a tossing sea.

The door to my quarters was directly below the fo’c’sle, and I found myself walking down the stairs that approached the door rather hurriedly, trying to outrun the uncomfortable restlessness. As soon as it was shut, the privacy that it afforded was a more-than-welcome barrier sometimes against the openness of the rest of the ship - the quaint room also supplied me with a nice vantage point, both to the sea and the land behind me and also to the happenings of the main deck and the helm, where many of the men liked to relax.

It was a comfortable little room, hardly luxurious, but inviting in a bookish, captainy sort of way; bookshelves lined one of the rounded walls, and a mahogany canopy bed with a trunk sitting at its foot lay on the second. Maps, mostly hand-drawn or torn from books, lay on every available surface, giving the entire room the smell of fresh parchment, and the north wall, across from the door, sported a large latticed window that now depicted a view of the docks and their sunburnt sailors, hefting their thick hempen baskets of fish from boat to boat to sell to villages down the coast.

Leaning against the curved wooden wall, I gazed out the window, absentmindedly shuffling a stack of maps at the desk under it. A fisherman haggled loudly with a local merchant to buy a boatload of fish, while a woman with two young children looked on disapprovingly as she hustled the duo along. I tapped the papers on the table, and set them down, tearing my eyes away and turning around in the dim light. 

             Before I went for the Makah’rye, I had gathered all of the information I could find for the return journey after its use. I hadn’t found much - mostly folktales and legends - but the one piece of information I could find felt very promising: a story about the stone’s origin on a volcanic island in the land of the ancients, an island known as Knusaijax. Since then, I had gathered map after map of any island I could find that seemed remotely related, but even among the scores of maps surrounding me now, I never succeeded in finding one that led directly to it - only the vague promise of the existence of such a map, located in a bustling portside town called Omiez.

             I caught a glimpse of a map on my desk that supposedly portrayed the inside of the Underdark, the fabled system of caverns on the inside of the volcano of Knusaijax. I picked it up, examining it. The edges were a bit burnt by something, and I had to squint to see the writing – that, at least, seemed promising.

I took up a magnifying glass off of my desk, holding it up against my eye. A plume of dust blew up, and I blinked, shaking it out from under my eyelashes. If it was correct, apparently…I squinted. I would have to sail a boat made of pure moonbeams into the mouth of the volcano, whose  molten rock would carry me down to the entrance of the ancient burial chamber of the natives. Rocking forcefully back into my creaking chair in a descension of disappointment, I huffed impatiently, and, tossing it into a pile, I slid the next one up off of the mahogany surface. One glance at the title, and it joined the stack; it was a map to an obscure island called Kaijani that was nowhere near Knusaijax.

             The next one consisted of instructions to sink the island into the sea, which would really quite defeat the purpose of my mission, and wasn’t helpful anyhow unless I could find the place at all. I tossed it onto the fledgling pile. The next few on the stack were about the culture of the natives, which may have been useful, if I was not planning to avoid them at all costs. I sighed, tossing them both onto a new stack, and settled back into my chair, resigning myself to the next few hours of map-sorting.

             When I had finally finished, the sky had dimmed to the dull grayish-blue of dusk, and my eyes ached from staring at the yellowing paper in the dim light. Letting out a sigh of release, I stood up, my back aching, surveying the now-slightly-cleaner captain’s quarters. In one smooth movement, I grabbed a dagger and sheath from the desk, strapping it swiftly to my belt, then tucked a sleek black shuriken into my collar. Rarely did I go out into the village unarmed, for when the villagers see a pirate, they automatically think to distrust - and besides, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t made any enemies.

             Shutting the door to my quarters behind me, I strode across the deck, checking once more to ensure everything was in order. The crew had been working tirelessly out on the deck while I was in my quarters, and the gangplank was still down from their endless walking back and forth to finish supplying the ship; it jounced as I stepped down it and onto the well-worn path. Dust kicked up around my tall leather boots, and a flock of chickens scattered as I walked through, seeming to be wary of me even over their piles of grain. 

I came upon the village quickly, and it wasn’t long before I was hemmed in on both sides by whitewashed wooden cottages, vendors peering from behind their shaded stalls, and bustling housewives herding their children to the door. Being tall, I felt rather inconspicuous, but I did not mind; when you are the most wanted and most respected pirate in the entire kingdom, it is hard to worry about things of that sort anyway.

It wasn’t long before I came upon our cottage. It was nothing unique; no reflection of the curious personage who had rented it for the next few weeks. The door, like its neighbors, was made of thick oak with heavy steel bands encircling it, and had two matching paned windows on either side of it. Peering in, I saw that the figure on the bed was alone, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room, so, pushing open the door, I ducked my head around the familiar beam and padded inside. The floor was as hard-packed and dusty as the roads outside, but even so, my boots were deathly silent as I walked over to Anastasia’s bedside. Bending over her head, I blew my brown hair out of the way, watching her chest move up and down as she breathed.

Lying frailly on the white fabric of the cot, she looked even younger than her fourteen years. Her wispy, blonde hair was spread out over the pillow, and her face was turned slightly to the side on the pillow, giving her the appearance of sleep. As I did every time I watched her, I had the urge to reach out and shake her gently to wake her up, but I knew there would be no reaction.

When I was fifteen, only a year older than Ana is now, I was an energetic, steely girl, and the reclusive life of our aristocratic parents seemed to torture me. For our entire lives, Anastasia and I had been carted to parties and balls, and while Ana was much more laid-back than I was, it had never been the life for either of us. I did, therefore, what any reasonable teenager in my position would do - I ran away to sea. And while I started taking longer and longer journeys on the brigantines and merchant sloops that docked at our port, Ana was still forced to stay home - and because she had never had the constitution for the sea, there was no way for me to get her away from the huge estate that my parents owned.

Once I had earned enough money as a shipmate to support us both, I rented a small cottage near the docks, and Ana, who - unfortunately for her – was, and still is, fiercely loyal to me, insisted on coming. As soon as my parents found out that I had decided to abandon the fineries and parties of the life they were used to, they disowned both me and Ana in humiliation, and I have never seen them since. We moved to a town further down the coast, and I continued to voyage constantly, as long as Ana continued to insist that she did not mind. 

Our newfound freedom took an unexpected turn, however, when I came home to the cottage one day and found Ana crumpled on the floor, her wispy hair spread out around her. Nothing I or anyone did could possibly awaken her, and while the doctors of the town stood by and wrung their hands, I boarded the Splendor and flew halfway around the world to retrieve the infamous and powerful Makah’rye, which I knew would bring her back.

When I returned, nothing had changed, and the village doctors had given her up for lost. But as soon as I unleashed the power of the Makah’rye, she had stirred and almost opened her eyes, life surging into her chest and nearly lifting her body off of the wooden bed that she lay on. Just as my hopes were soaring, her eyelids fluttered back into sleep again - but something was different. My spirits had plunged, but I vowed to wait it out, and by the end of a second voyage, I was convinced that she would have revived. 

However, I had used the magical stone out of what I felt was necessity, and now the absence of its immense power was destroying the world. It tipped on its axis, causing oceans to rush forward and land to fall and crumble, and islands around the known world were being ripped and shaken by its impact. The nations’ fate rested upon my shoulders because of what I had to do to save my sister, and so I was determined to succeed in this voyage. Not that I - or the world - really had another choice.

The sound of stealthy footsteps behind me startled me out of my reverie. I leapt around and glimpsed a shadow playing on the wall of the doorframe behind me, seeming to slowly move forward. Sliding as far backward as space allowed, I pulled out my knife, crouching down; in the dusky light filtering in through the window, I could make out a figure standing between me and the door, holding something over their head. I twisted my grip around the leather-bound handle, shifting my weight to position myself between the attacker and Ana.

The assailant lunged toward me again, swinging a heavy, roundish object at my head. During my travels, I had had some experience with foreign weapons - but the only thing that this looked remotely similar to was a somewhat stubby warhammer. Squinting through the dark and ducking my head around his blows to get a better look at his face, I tried to figure out who my assailant was, even as another blow came singing toward my head. On instinct, I ducked my head toward him, raising my knife hand, and the object bounced off, leaving a gritty, black substance on the flat of my knife. Glancing at it quickly, I gave a start as I realized that it was nothing other than coal - which meant the heavy object was - could only be - I looked up. 

Sure enough, whoever my assailant was wielded a large frying pan high over their head as they took a step forward into the light that filtered through the dusty paned window. Dropping my knife to the floor with a clatter, I guffawed out a laugh. Hesitating, the woman peered at me from under her makeshift weapon.

“Bless me, it’s young Cordelia!” she exclaimed, the frying pan swinging down to her generous side. “Pardon me for comin’ at ye there, I hadn’ had no way of knowin’ it was you, if ye understand my meaning.” I shook my head, deciding not to say anything about the ‘young’ descriptor.

“Don’t worry, Matron.” I assured her, as she set her blackened frying pan on the stove with a grunt. “Thanks for taking such excellent care of my sister. I couldn’t be more confident that I was leaving her in more capable hands.” Her shoulders eased back as she relaxed, and she sighed, approaching the bed without hesitation. She brushed the hair out of Ana’s face, and I watched, half in relief, for I truly was glad that the matron was here to care for Ana while I was gone, and half with a pang of jealousy, for I regretted that I was not the one to be around to care for her. Would the matron’s face be the first face she saw when she awoke - if she even awoke at all? I shook my head vigorously.

“Matron,” I said, making her look up with a jolt, as if she had already forgotten I was there.  “I wanted to make sure that you are able to care for Ana until I come back - even if that is not for a few months.” She nodded eagerly. 

“Of course, Miss Vataea. I would never leave little Ana for anything.” she said. I knew her enthusiasm was not entirely because of the attractiveness of Anastasia as a patient, although that was a large part of it, I was sure. Rather, to have the sister of the notorious Cordelia Vataea as a ward would immediately put her at the very top of the social ladder in town, and, being a garrulous and gossipy woman, I was quite sure that the matron enjoyed that immensely. I suppressed a laugh as the matron’s expression turned vacant again.

After wishing the matron a farewell and saying goodbye to Anastasia one last time, I stepped back out onto the nearly empty streets. It was properly dusk now, and I knew I had to get back to the Splendor soon if I wanted to keep my word to my crew. I was not one to be tardy, and setting out on a voyage was no exception. Besides, I could not deny that I was itching to be back out on the open ocean.

It took me no time at all to be back on the ship, and since the crew had left the gangplank down out of respect for me, there was nothing particularly exciting about my return journey. Actually, I realized, I was almost disappointed that I hadn’t had to break onto my own ship – which really only showed how anxious I was to embark.

I strode over to the mast, gripping the rigging with one hand. Quickly as a cat, I scampered up first one net then another, until the only thing supporting me were single ropes, hovering out over a hundred feet of open air above the deck. Holding on with just one hand, I leaned out over the edge, gazing off into the blending of red and yellow that made up the horizon. This was natural - more natural than even walking on land, just floating and being a part of the wind above my ship. And that air was just as clear as I had speculated this morning - so, satisfied, I let myself go, catching myself on the lower rigging and sliding down until I hit the deck. 

I met Bane on the fo’c’sle. He had known me for long enough that he knew, even without my saying anything, that I was ready to shove off, and he broke out into a grin with a nod. I walked past him into the hallway of the crew’s quarters, and, knocking twice loudly on the first door, almost flew down to the end of the hallway as doors flung open and sailors rushed out of each. The hallway, as I liked to refer to it, was a narrow, short little thing, made dark by the lack of outside-facing walls and therefore lack of windows, and it housed all of the crew’s quarters on each side, eight rooms in all with a few men in each.

I turned around and stood in the shadows at the back, watching them hustle to the top deck before following them out myself. Almost before I was settled at the edge of the deck, where I usually started every voyage, Bane was atop the forecastle, yelling orders at the top of his husky voice. The clanking of chains sounded through the night air as the anchor rose out of the water, and the limp, lifeless sails snapped as they flew open with a gust. I glanced up at Fuego. His eyes were shining with excitement, yet he was perfectly calm at the wheel, both hands resting on the handles, prepared to swing it whichever way he was commanded. 

Among the excitement, I bit my lip, as if to keep the giddiness from spilling out of me, and satisfied myself with scanning the ships around the harbor. My gaze caught upon a new sloop rocking in the waters directly on our starboard side. I kept careful track of all of the ships in our waters, and although I had taken note of it earlier, I had not given it careful thought. Now, as the Splendor’s sleek black hull glided through the water, I had time to study it. As I watched, in the dark lamplight, I noticed two men standing at the edge just as I was with their backs to me. I leaned against the edge of the deck, listening to hear their voices.

“Aye, ye can’ help but wonder ‘bout the strange sister of that pirate, Vataea.” one said, and, my bubble rudely popped, I nearly fell over the taffrail in indignant surprise. “Some say she was cursed by an imp for dabblin’ in the dark arts, if ye know what I mean…” his voice trailed off. Quicker than a flash, I had risen and leaned to leap over the side. 

Almost as if in response to my unspoken command, the Splendor was already scratching the edge of the foreign ship, and, already poised and ready, I landed on the deck of the sloop, staring at the back of the man who I assumed to be the captain. Unsheathing my dagger, I stalked over to him, the silent soles of my boots making no sound upon the well-worn deck. Only when I was a few paces away from him did he turn around, his knowledgeable smirk falling to an expression of astonishment. Before he could respond, I had my knife at the ready. To his credit, he did not make any undignified sound, but only slumped back against the ornately carved mast as his friend watched in terror.

“What did you say about my sister?” I growled. He squeaked. “What did you hear?” I repeated.

“Nothin’, miss, except that what I was just tellin’ my first mate here. Hones’, miss, I didn’ know anything more than that.” he said. I took a step closer to him. “Alright, alright - I’ll tell ye somethin’ else;” he squeaked, seeming to remember. “I heard it from the local fishermen, and they says that was the reason. Tha’s all!” he exclaimed. Far from satisfied, and somewhat disappointed, I stepped back, surveying their faces. As pallid as they were, I could tell they were being honest, and that was all they knew. Too miffed to make a sound, I sheathed my dagger with a click, glaring sideways at them. 

Without giving any sign of acknowledgement, I turned my heel and stalked away, stepping onto the Splendor, who had just rocked to a halt, barely shaving the side of their sloop. I brushed past Bane as I returned, who, having paused in his shouting of orders, was turning to me with a questioning glance. 

“They know something about Ana.” I said. “They couldn’t tell me much. There are rumors going around now that Ana was dabbling in the dark arts.” I scowled. “I know those two aren’t personally behind them, but sailors like them are the mouthpieces of gossip, and the fact that it’s spreading so quickly can’t be a good sign.”

“Do you think Ana is safe with the matron?” Bane asked immediately. My mouth twitched in a half-smile.

“I’m sure.” I replied.  “When I came in, she tried to attack me with a frying pan…and she has reasons for wanting to make sure Ana is in one piece by the time I get back.” Bane raised an eyebrow.

“Was that a threat?” he asked glibly, surprise only the tiniest bit evident in his voice.

“Not in the least.” I said quickly. “She enjoys being a popular woman, and Anastasia is nothing if not extremely famous.” I grinned. Bane returned a smile in response, and, through unspoken understanding, we parted to our voyage destinations – him to the fo’c’sle and myself to my quarters.

Closing the door behind me, I pushed my piles of sorted maps aside, revealing my plethora of ancient-looking books. Grabbing a few, I settled uneasily into my chair, where I spent the rest of the night.  “The dark arts, dismissed by many as a tale invented by mothers to scare obedience into their children, manifests itself in many different forms…”

---

  I sat on my knees on a cold, hard stone floor, a hot fire flickering at my back. Anastasia is next to me, her hands resting on her neat dress, the fabric pulled taut by her crossed legs. I fidgeted, trying to mimic her elegant posture. Somehow my legs did not want to cooperate. Sighing, I fixed my gaze on our nurse, who was sitting in a wooden chair in front of us, watching us sternly. 

“If you want to hear the story, Cordelia, you must sit still.” she admonished. Anastasia shot an annoyed look at me, like she thought the nurse wouldn’t tell the story anyway. I knew she enjoyed frightening us with tales of dark places and fantastical objects. I wondered which it would be this time, the Makah’rye or the weird tales of the ancients? Or maybe the tale of the witch and the evil Beast? I settled down on my knees.

“Long, long ago, on the first island that rose from the sea, there lived an ancient tribe of primal warriors.” the nurse began in a whispery, croaky voice. Anastasia sat, already enthralled, the flames on the nurse’s face in the dark room flickering and giving her a ghostly glow. “They possessed two magical stones; one with the power to heal, and one with the power to kill. These stones - ah, these stones were the pride and joy of the ancient natives, and they were to guard them with nothing less than their very lives. The first, the Makah’rye, had the ability to heal any injury, cure any disease, rouse any sleeper. The one thing - the only thing - that it could not do was wake the dead.

“The second stone, on the other hand, the Aiitne, had the power to cause death towards everyone who wielded it. It was a dangerous tool - but, in the right hands, it had the ability to keep the tribe alive and flourishing.

“Then one day, the chief’s own son got ahold of the Aiitne. Crazed with a thirst for power, for his father had ruled over their people for thousands of years, he took the stone, and, one night while the tribe lay asleep, struck down the chief. In grief, the people of the tribe tied the fateful stone to the traitor’s neck and flung them both into the mouth of the great volcano, ensuring that the way the deceitful son lived would be the way he died. As the son and the stone fell into the mouth of the molten rock, the stone was said to light up like lightning, and it gave off a force of power so strong that the sea heaved and islands everywhere rose from the depths. The people of the ancient tribe were scattered to every land, and they began to build a new life apart from their brothers.

“In this way, the nations of the world began. And although the Aiitne had lost its power as it lay in the depths of the fiery volcano, legend has it that the only remaining members of the ancient tribe stay on the island, guarding the sacred volcano and the precious stone that lies within. And stories still say, if you listen closely enough, that the Makah’rye is out there, lying dormant since the world was made by the Aiitne - but if it were to be used, the energy it released without the balance of its sleeping brother would revoke the energy emitted by the Aiitne, and the world would crumble again into dust, leaving not even the natives alive.”

We sat stone-still, hypnotized by the echoes her voice still reverberating off of the stone walls, and by the daring of the chief’s son and the cataclysmic effects of the deadly Aiitne. Before we had a chance to reawaken, the nurse scooped us each up, laying us in our respective beds in the room we shared together. Her skirts swished as she walked briskly around the room, blowing out the lantern and stepping silently out.

We lay in silence. I was sure Ana was asleep when I heard her quiet voice slipping through the darkness from the other side of the room. “Do you think the story’s real, Delia?”

I rolled around to face her, watching her pale face wait in expectation. “I think it is.” I said. “Wherever would they get the story from if it wasn’t?”

---

I woke up with a start. Rolling over, I flung my arm over my head, trying to block out the dark - one of the watch bells had to ring soon - and my hand brushed the top of my cheek. Startled, I noticed that it was slightly wet. I shook my head. I was only dreaming. 

Immediately giving up all hope of falling back asleep, I rolled over and flung my feet off of the bed, pulling on my worn leather boots. In the same motion, I grabbed my overcoat, pulling it on over my head, and my satchel, slinging it over my shoulder. By the time I strode over to the round mirror that served as my vanity, I was raking my brush through my thin hair, trying to account for all of the knots I had accumulated over the night. I must have been tossing and turning quite a bit. 

Sure enough, as I coaxed the last snarls from my hair, a bell started pealing through the darkness. I didn’t have to strain to hear it. Eight bells, on midwatch. That would be about four hours after noon by land reckoning. Shaking the sleep out of my bones, I stood up taller, examining my appearance. In the dark, I looked as poised and dangerous as any pirate captain around - I could even convince myself. Satisfied, I opened the door, squinting against the darkness. Sailors were hustling about, those on watch eager to return to their quarters, and those in their quarters eager to return to watch. The second mate, Deuce, had the command of midwatch tonight, and as he ushered the last man into the hallway, I approached him.

“Captain.” he said, the heels of his boots clicking together. “What can I do for you?” 

“Thank you, Deuce. It’s truly a beautiful night out - was everything peaceful?” I asked, managing to keep the tremor out of my voice.

He paused for a second before answering my question. “Peaceful enough,” he said. “Captain, it seems to me that the sea’s behaving…differently than we’re used to. Is this…expected?” My heart lowered a few inches, my mind sharpening slightly with determination against my as-yet-vague opponent. 

Without changing my facial expression, my mind unspooled, and I answered, “No -” I paused - “but it is of little consequence.” He nodded, clearly not entirely understanding, and when I looked at him and volunteered no further information, he hesitated and then saluted again.

“Thank you, Captain.” he said, and snapped his heels together on instinct, turning and disappearing down the dark hallway.

In contemplation, I paced over to the Splendor’s ornate railing at the edge of the deck; my fingers pressed against the smooth edge of the cold wood as I leaned out over the sharp waves of the ocean, sea foam and its briny, salty smell hitting my face at the same time. I watched the sea for a moment - not black, as many unfortunate sailors alleged, but a deep blue, with silver tones where the licking waves met the beams of the moon. 

Uncoiling a rope I held in my satchel, I held one end, letting the other uncoil into the water. I watched it swirl in the currents for a few moments, which were, as Deuce had noted, different than usual. I grimaced. That should be impossible. The sea, changing current patterns this close to land? To any layperson, to anybody but me, it would seem delusional. I recoiled my rope, placing it back in my satchel, and strode back to my cabin, lost in thought.

Once inside, I pushed books and maps aside, searching for the calculations I had made days ago. If I was already seeing signs of a disturbance caused by the Makah’rye being used…I bit my lip. I didn’t dare think about it. The books I had read gave me at least four weeks. From the way things were going, I would be surprised if we had two and a half.

I tossed down my papers. I rarely pushed my crew or my ship to the limit, but if I ever would do it, now would be the voyage. Opening my door and striding down the narrow hallway that led to the crew’s quarters, I knocked on the door to Bane and his cabinmate, Dusk’s, quarters. At my knock, Bane promptly opened the door, apparently not yet asleep from midwatch. I stepped out into the hallway, inviting him to accompany me. He shut the door silently behind him.

“I regret to have to tell you this so soon after shove-off, Bane, but you should know sooner than later that we are going to positively have to speed the voyage. We…” I paused and bit my lip. “I had calculated that we had almost four weeks. We need to make it to Omiez and to the island in about half that time.” Bane winced, and my face mirrored his as I watched his reaction.

Having been a sailing man his entire life, he understood my request. If I was asking to cut the voyage time almost in half, he knew it would have to be dire - we could not count on the wind to help us, or for unfriendly forces to let us pass, or on the ultimate stamina of my crew. A voyage time is projected for a reason, and is usually accurate. To cut it in half is almost unheard of, almost impossible.

He stared at me, trying, I was sure, to analyze my expression. I kept it blank; determined, but confident. I trusted my crew with my life, and they were my friends above anyone else, but especially when their well-being was at stake, I had learned long ago to not let on more than I wanted to. Bane broke eye contact first. 

“We can try, Captain.” he said.

“No.” I said immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. “We cannot try. We must succeed. Bane, there is everything riding on this.” I had not fully enclosed to my crew what the purpose of the voyage was, but Bane knew more than most, and I was sure he could at least read in my expression that I was not joking. Slowly, he nodded.

“Captain, we can do it.” he said. I watched him. After a moment, I nodded in turn, and he bowed his head slightly to me, turning then and walking away. I could almost sense the unease radiating from him.

Back in my quarters yet again, I searched again through my maps. If I was seeing signs from the change in the magnetic pull caused by the use of the Makah’rye already, we would have a difficult voyage ahead, especially as we got closer to my destination, the island of the natives, where the dormant Aiitne lie. 

We would have to tread carefully. This was no minor magical object, no trinket hidden in the vaults of the rich that I had to pilfer and then watch my back. No, this was a power that was told about around the world by dark bedsides and solemn readings; one that everybody knew about, and nobody dared to touch. I was not dealing with a simple stone that was imbued with power. I was dealing with the powers that made the world, and I was about to destroy it single-handedly. If I wasn’t careful, this could all go sideways – literally. 

My plan, so far, was to stop in Omiez, the largest trading town that was on the way to where I believed the island of the natives was hidden. I would find a map, and, using it, sail to the island, retrieve the dormant Aiitne, and use it to restore the world. Even the plan, when laid out in its simplest form, sounded fraught with hidden complications and undercurrents of trouble. 

I could hear Bane shouting out orders above me. I heard two bells for the morning watch, which meant it was about five hours after noon by land reckoning. Sure enough, the glint of dawn had begun to show above the horizon, and the pink tinge of the clouds had bled onto the black deck. 

That morning, I stood on the deck, trying to detect any signs of disturbances in the water. Was it only my imagination, or did the Splendor seem to be rocking more than usual? Were the winds blowing more erratically than before? Several times, I had been about to walk over and ask one of the men, but I always stopped myself before I did, sure that the word would spread and the mood of the voyage would be tainted before it even began.

The mood amongst the rest of the crew, after all, was just as pleasant as on any other trip we had taken. With the sails stretched taut with the wind and the sailors grinning broadly from atop the masts, all hands were not necessary on deck, and the sailors could afford to take liberties with their time. Cards were a popular pastime, as was checkers, but I did not care to take part in either. I had once tried to indulge in games with my crewmates, but I noticed that my thoughts started reflecting the results of each game - if I won, Anastasia was safe, and still at home, but if I lost, she had been harmed, or had run off, or something equally terrible had happened. Now I only played cards on land, where I could make sure both the Splendor and my sister were safe.

Up on the fo’c’sle, I could hear the noises of what sounded like a mock fight beginning. They often liked to challenge each other to playful duels, especially when they hadn’t seen much ‘real’ adventure lately.  I turned my gaze up to the top of the deck, rotating casually on the heel of my boot. The sailors who were free from watch had gathered round in a sparse circle, letting out intermittent cries of excitement and playful boos or jeers. I walked up the steps unnoticed, my height enabling me to see the mock duel going on in the center.

             Two of the sailors, Umber and Sear, circled each other, playful expressions on their browned faces. They paced around so smoothly that it was sometimes hard to tell them apart, their identical loose, brown tunics doing nothing to help the resemblance. 

As I watched, the burlier one, Sear, struck out, his fist aiming slightly to the side of Umber’s body, so as not to truly harm him. Umber slid out of the way, not even bothering to bat the punch out of the air. In return, he slid underneath of Sear’s defenses, shooting out an uppercut to the chest that connected solidly. He didn’t anticipate Sear’s slight stagger backward, however, and his second punch missed by a hair.

Umber had a good recovery, so fast that any usual onlooker would have considered it instantaneous, but Sear took advantage of it, grabbing his arm and hooking his ankle around Umber’s legs. Umber’s head slammed forward into Sear’s solar plexus, forcing him to let go, but as he released him, his foot snagged against Umber’s leg, causing him to stumble backward. 

Sear seized his chance, lunging after the smaller sailor with a feint near his right shoulder and a punch to his left. It clipped the top of Umber’s shoulder blade, but instead of spinning backward, Umber ducked forward, feinted down and then up, and finally landed two solid punches to Sear’s midsection. Quick as a wink, taking advantage of his momentary breathlessness, he whipped his arm around Sear’s shoulder and, taking him in an arm bar, hoisted him in a throw. When Sear hit the ground, it seemed to shake the entire ship. 

“Oi!” Bane called in the distance, disgruntled, but his cry was rather drowned out by the cheers of the sailors as Umber stood over the sheepishly smiling Sear. The fight had lasted only a moment, but it had seemed an eternity, and the blows thrown had been those of masters. I smiled, and began to back away.

“Captain!” Sear cried, now on his feet. “Come have a bout with us!” I paused. I did not often participate in their play duels, and they had not had a chance to study my strategy. Nonetheless, I grinned, and stepped back into the circle of sailors, who parted around me. After an instant of nobody twitching, Fuego stepped forward into the makeshift ring. A cheer went up. I immediately prepared myself, my back close to the people behind me. 

I did not pace, but instead stood still, conserving my energy. My stance was neutral but low, a coiled spring of energy. Fuego hesitated for a second, then, impatient, took a step forward, crouching low and feinting to my knee, then sending up a flurry of attacks. I swatted them aside with my open hand, then as he stepped to the side, unsure, I took a leap forward and launched myself through the air.

The distance of over five feet I covered easily, my leg crashing through his defenses and into his chest, yet at an angle that would in no way seriously injure him. I used his chest as a springboard to propel myself just enough into the air that I could leap backward, spinning through the air and falling into a low stance on the other side of him, and as soon as my boots hit the ground, I jammed my knuckle backward into the soft spot at the back of his neck, causing him instinctively to stay upright, even as he began to collapse to the ground.

He spun around, startled and with widened eyes. As soon as I could see his face, I flipped my arm up and down, scoring two blows at his neck and chest, then grabbed the loose fabric at the top of his shoulder, flipping him onto the ground with a crash before had caught his breath. The men were silent for a second, then, all as one, an enthusiastic cheer rang up above the black deck of the ship.  I grinned, offering my hand down to Fuego and hauling him up before backing away from the circle, leaving them to discuss Fuego’s defeat and who the next unfortunate contestants should be. Some of the rowdy spectators dispersed, going to seek a partner for a quieter game.

As I started back down the steps, something in the water caught my eye. Immediately on my guard, I advanced to the railing, trying to keep my movements subtle. Just as I was beginning to think I imagined it, something bluish-gray, slick with the salty moisture of the sea, flashed in the waves. I squinted against the sunlight. 

             A rounded back, interrupted only by the smooth contour of a fin, emerged in the waves. A pod of dolphins began to take shape, rubbing up against the smooth side of the Splendor and showing off just above the waves. I grinned. To think I had gotten startled over just a pod of dolphins! Not everything on this voyage, thankfully, was a bad omen. I watched their graceful movements, mesmerized. Dolphins had always been able to capture my attention. They were the humans of the sea, in my opinion. 

             The humans of the sea – that phrase gave me pause, and it was a moment before I put my finger on why. Humans moved, instinctually, away from danger…would dolphins be compelled to do the same thing? Danger, like the tilting of the world on its axis? Now that I thought about it, it was unusual to see dolphins here this time of year…surely they couldn’t just be following the conspicuous hull of the Splendor.

             I flew down the rest of the steps, slamming the door to my quarters in my haste. Surely there had to be a map of usual wildlife patterns…more maps. There were maps everywhere. After scrabbling through the mess for a couple seconds, I found the yellowed parchment I was looking for. Sure enough, dolphins - called takaiine by the ancients - were native to an area close to Knusaijax, far closer to Knusaijax than here. There was no reason for them to be here - none at all - unless something had driven them away from their homeland.

             I sighed, tracing the well-worn path on the map with my finger and then, a moment later, the real path out from my quarters onto the deck. I’d have to tell our barrelman, Hawk, to let me know if he saw any other signs of wildlife in danger. I swung up onto the mast, starting to scale the rigging. 

By the time I had reached the crow’s nest, my spirits had lifted considerably. Hawk was sitting comfortably against the mast, chewing on a weed he had probably had since the beginning of the voyage. I looked at its well-worn end and shoved down a grimace, but grasping the edge of the crow’s nest, I nevertheless hoisted myself up to his level. “Hawk?” I asked. 

He gave a start. “Yes, Captain?” he asked, snapping into a hasty salute. 

“I would like to know - have you seen any sea life behaving oddly recently? I noticed some dolphins that were moving…differently from their usual patterns.” Hawk gazed into the distance for a second, trying to remember.

“Aye, I do recall seeing that pod pass by,” he said slowly. “There was a school of fish swimmin’ before them, and so I thought they were just chasing their prey. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Do you think it’s of importance?”

I nodded my head. “It could turn out to be of extreme importance. Thank you, Hawk.”

I might have given my gratitude a moment too soon. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the mast seemed to shudder underneath me, and I looked down just in time to see the hull of the Splendor give a horrific jolt. The usually stoic Bane had seen something that we could not, and was, I could tell even from here, vibrating with tense energy, yelling orders at the top of his lungs. Sailors raced around like suntanned figurines on the deck below, flying to and fro across the deck.

I glanced back up at Hawk, who was staring rigidly at the sea in front of us. I followed his gaze - and immediately wished I hadn’t. The usually predictable pattern of choppy waves on the sea had given way to a sick-looking heaving, leaving the sea roiling in huge surges, as if a giant had grabbed the fabric of the sea and shook it - and the rough sea was rising up as one into huge waves that could easily engulf an entire village. 

I looked back at Hawk, whose face had turned a sickly ashen. “Hawk, get down to -”

The ship lurched forward. From the mast, it seemed as if we were going to keep tilting right into the roiling sea, and spray flew up into my face, making the ropes slick under my fingers just as the mast heaved back into its upward arc. My nimble hands slipped, missing the ropes, and I began to whistle through the air toward the hard deck - but almost as soon as I began to fall, I grabbed at the rigging again, this time holding fast, my fingers tight in a viselike lock around the rope.

Immediately, my gaze flew upward from the ropes swaying in front of me, forcing me to squint through the wet mist, just as something large plummeted past my face. Almost on instinct, I reached out and grabbed the rough fabric of the object, leaving my grip, and my life, hanging by the backs of my knees on the latticed rope. Panting, I lay upside down, staring at the rough face of Hawk, which seemed to be slack and lifeless. Before allowing myself to panic, I hoisted him upward, just as the ship gave another terrifying jolt. 

Difficult as it was to keep my grip on Hawk, the sleety rain almost pried my fingers off the slick ropes - I could barely keep my eyes open from the driving wind and rain, and I could just barely hear Bane frantically shouting orders beneath me. Even I had to admit that I was no mean climber, and I could hold my own with the strongest man of the crew, but this sudden storm was liable to drive any person to his limit. Clinging to the rough, wet hemp of the rope with one hand and the dead weight of Hawk with the other, I could tell I was already quickly approaching mine.

Knotting my legs around the mast, I hoisted Hawk up on my shoulders. Looking down, I knew that there was absolutely no way I could climb down the ropes - the higher ones had already started to ice over, giving the sharp material painful edges, and the ones that hadn’t were still sharp and slick, not to mention that I couldn’t see more than five feet around my head because of an unnatural, sudden fog.

Whispering a tense prayer, I released my hold on the rope, gripping the mast with my slender, calloused fingers. I began to crawl down, my fingertips numb and my arms raw and red from chafing against the icy mast, my experienced sinew seeming to be serving me no better than water. To this day, I flinch to think about that trip to the bottom of the mast - more dead on my feet than words can begin to tell, I fell the last fifteen feet, using the last of my energy to land just so, preserving my legs and Hawk’s life. Laying the unconscious Hawk on the deck, I grabbed my satchel rope - I had had enough of rope for one day - and lashed him to the mast. 

A shout from behind me grabbed my attention. With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I saw pieces of black wood being tossed by the thrashing sea. I flew over. Sear and another sailor that I couldn’t see were straining at a rope, trying to get the sail down. My lungs and muscles burning, I ran over, grabbing the other end and starting to haul. Pulling on hidden reserves of energy and relying on adrenaline, I yelled out a rhythm. If the sail didn’t go down, it would catch the howling winds of the storm and throw us to every conceivable place - including into the sea. As I shouted over the wind, pulling against the chafing rain, a sickening crack sounded above me, and life seemed to be reduced to slow motion.

Splinters flew through the air as the mast shivered and split in two, leaving nothing but a jagged stump where the proud wood used to be. It whistled through the air, plunging into the ocean with what I am sure would have been a tremendous splash, and as the sea rose up in the next second to meet the polished bow of the mutilated Splendor, I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my arms around the mast.

The impact came precisely one second later.