Wisdom and Wonder - Chapter 28
The setting sun cast rays of orange and red, the light dancing and rolling gently like a calm and soothing breeze.
But everything has an end, if only you live long enough to see it.
-King Solomon’s Mines
Morien was dreaming. He dreamed that he was walking, slowly making his way along the banks of a cool and gentle beach, its waves gently lapping at the soles of his feet. He did not know this land, this golden sand that he now walked on, but as he gazed into the horizon, his thoughts turned back to home, and he saw his mother’s face laughing in the clouds.
“Baa,” he whispered, and his mood grew melancholy as he remembered the family he had left behind in Soudania. But the winds and waves whispered in his ear to take heart. It would all be over soon, and he would see them once again.
This place, this land of dreams, Morien remembered it somehow, though its name escaped him. Everything about it felt familiar, but how precisely Morien could not define. All he knew, as he gazed into the sun, its golden hue so warm and reassuring, was that the dream he dreamt now was a good one, and he felt at peace.
“And voilà!” Bertha, the first of Morgana Academy’s chief engineers, beamed up at her latest creation as she wiped her sweating, greasy brow.
“Um…” Julia glanced up at the same, weather-beaten jalopy. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“Of course!” Bertha smirked. “Are you doubting my mechanical expertise?”
“Uh, no, just…” Julia glanced at the massive balloon and basket that had been built around the frame of a miniature cabin. Was this thing really able to take them aloft?
“She should!” Gillian, the second of Morgana Academy’s chief engineers, emerged with scowling lips and shaking head from her work station. “That alleged aircraft will be dead in the air in less than a minute.”
“Oh hush up, Gillian,” Bertha huffed. “You’re just mad I was chosen for this and not you.”
“Bah!” Gillian growled. “You think just because you slap a dash of magic on something, that makes it fully functional? Magic is no substitute for proper design and aeronautical science.”
“Oh come on!” Bertha moaned. “You think you’re any better? Your designs are all cold and lifeless, devoid of any panache or style!”
“Style? Panache?” Gillian bellowed. “Shouldn’t the most important thing be whether the blasted construct even works?”
“Uh, hey now,” Julia tried to calm the brewing storm before it became too dangerous.
“Whose side are you on?” the two chief engineers glared fiercely at the poor merchant, and she decided to simply drop the matter.
“Now girls,” the Headmistress entered the garage, with the other members of Julia’s group following closely behind. “Don’t you know there’s a quest going on? The fate of the world is at stake. Hardly the time for you two to be bickering so.”
“Yes ma’am,” the two engineers mumbled like a pair of children being sent to their rooms.
“Excellent,” the Headmistress smiled sweetly. “Now then, is everything in order?”
“We have the Keys,” Morien held the three instruments up.
“I’ve got old Deus’ yoke,” Erin held the collar closely.
“And I’ve got just enough energy to last us to Thule,” Hobie rested gently in Yann’s arms.
“You’re sure Molly’ll be taken care of?” Julia asked nervously.
“Of course,” the Headmistress nodded. “We shall provide her with the best of care.”
“Good,” Julia sighed. “We’ve been through a lot, her and me.”
“Yes, I know,” the Headmistress leaned in to whisper in Julia’s ear. “Don’t try to teach him too much. Let him learn by himself. Keep in mind, sometimes it’s alright to relinquish control.”
As Julia stammered and blushed at the Headmistress’ advice, she turned her attention to Hobie.
“Remember, you know what is right, no matter what your memory might say.”
To Yann, “I’ll be visiting you soon.”
To Erin, “No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always be proud of you.”
And finally, to Morien, “Don’t let courage and confidence change your compassion. Self-conviction without empathy can only lead to your destruction. Keep in mind, your kind heart is why she chose you.”
As everyone shuffled and mumbled, caught off-guard by the Headmistress’ piercing, personal advice, she suddenly remembered.
“Oh yes,” the Headmistress reached into her robes to pull out a tiny whistle. “I’d almost forgotten. Here.”
“What is it?” Erin glanced at the whistle as it passed into her hand.
“Something I got from an old sea captain I met some years ago,” the Headmistress sighed wistfully. “We had quite a few adventures together, he and I. If you ever have need of some alternate mode of transportation, blow that whistle. It’ll call him and his boat to you, no matter where on the planet you might be.”
“Aw, don’t worry, Headmistress,” Bertha grinned. “They won’t need that! They’ve got my balloon!”
“Fer five minutes, ’fore it crashes,” Gillian grunted.
“What was that?” Bertha hissed.
“You heard me!” Gillian bellowed.
“Girls,” the Headmistress barely needed to raise her voice to elicit their silent obedience.
“Thank you, Headmistress. Really…” Erin’s eyes began to water, and she hugged her Headmistress one last time before they departed.
“Go out and save the world, my dear,” the Headmistress smiled as she hugged back.
And so, after the balloon was all loaded up and everyone was ready to leave, the engineers released the tethers, opened the hangar doors, and let the band of travelers on their way.
Morien gasped in awe as he saw the sky in all its glory from the tiny balloon on which he rode. Nothing but océan and clouds as far as the eye could see, on a size and scale far grander than any palace or kingdom Morien had ever witnessed. Clouds billowing like rolling dunes, gales dancing like laughing music, and the sun shining as brightly as it did on the Saheli Steppes. Morien could hear sea birds squawk and the gentle roar of océan waves as his own heart threatened to beat out of his chest. It was all so beautiful!
“So, do we have our heading?” Julia glanced back at Hobie, who was glowing even more brightly in Yann’s arms.
“Yes,” Hobie dimmed once he’d become satisfied.
“Then let’s get going!” With a chant and a sneeze, Erin redirected the envelope, and as the massive balloon shifted and scooped the cabin with it into the air, the group of questers made their way across the sky.
The setting sun cast rays of orange and red, the light dancing and rolling gently like a calm and soothing breeze. Here, high above the clouds, all was peaceful and still, no-one save the balloon and the light. Morien felt its gentle, sleepy embrace wrap itself around him, and he felt at peace. As he stared down into the vast océan that stretched on without limit, Morien could not help but wonder if in those waters there sailed the boat of Väinämöinen, twelfth of the Valiants, first to be born and last to die, although he lived still. It was said by some that he was born the same day as the universe, and he sprang from his mother’s womb a full seven hundred years of age. Gifted with divine wisdom and a beautiful voice, Väinämöinen became the eternal bard, to sing the songs and tell the stories of all who lived in the land of Kalevala. Fantastic voyages, star-crossed lovers, evil magic, and the extraordinary Sampo, all these did Väinämöinen witness and recite. And when at last the golden age of Kalevala came to an end, he sang himself a boat, and sailed into the sea, where he remained waiting for when the people would have need of him again. Morien smiled as he remembered that familiar fable.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
And then Julia’s words brought Morien back to reality, as he turned his gaze away from the sky, to look back at her smiling face. As he saw Julia there, the light coloring her with its brilliant hue, Morien felt a great stirring deep within his chest, an intense longing he had never dared himself to feel. He was Mandenka, no-name, born of an outcast woman, consigned to the mosque for all eternity. It was true that he had loved. He had longed and pined after girls in his village, had felt desires and dreams as many young men do. But it had never come to anything. Even if they could have overlooked his birth, which many of them had not, a confidence beaten and malnourished by years of abuse was hardly suitable for a lover. One way or another, either by their own repulsion or Morien’s own self-sabotage, the possibilities for love had eluded him from the moment of his birth, and he had eventually learned to simply give up on the idea. Even now, as Julia nestled up beside him, and he felt her cool breath on his cheek, it didn’t seem real. It had to be a dream. There was no way anyone could ever love Morien like this. He couldn’t believe it. And yet, there she was, and she was real. Not like the fair maidens of his stories, but rather real and tangible. And she was so wonderful. He loved her so much. And she loved him, didn’t she?
Julia pressed herself tightly against Morien, just to make sure he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear. Here was home, here was stability, here was her rock, with the red-orange rays of light rippling across him like fire from a hearth. She could feel his quickened heartbeat, his shortened breath, his nervous pulse, and she treasured him for it. So gentle and pure, and all hers now. It didn’t seem real. It had to be a dream. There was no way anyone could ever love Julia like this. She couldn’t believe it. And yet, here he was, and he was real. Just like a dashing knight from a fairy tale. And he was so wonderful. She loved him so much. And he loved her, didn’t he?
It was strange. From all they had known and experienced until that point, neither would have expected to fall in love with someone like the other, or to be loved in return. And yet, here they were, against all odds and expectations. Here they were.
“It’s getting late,” Julia whispered, her usual hunger returning in full force.
Morien gulped, stammered, blushed and blinked profusely, but finally nodded in agreement. He was so scared, so utterly terrified. But in his heart, he too felt the same hunger.
And as the two young lovers slipped away into the balloon’s cabin, their remaining companions exchanged their own glances.
“Well,” Erin said.
Well, Yann agreed.
Morien was surprised by how ordinary it had been, not at all like what he’d read in stories. In stories sparks would fly and the earth would shake and everything would change, everything would be transformed and different now that it had finally happened. But he was still the same, save for a quantum of experience and a small degree of enlightenment. Still awkward, still nervous, still confused and scared, just less so now. In stories there were salacious suggestions that teased and tickled the fertile imagination of an innocent boy, or detailed descriptions that slapped Morien in the face with their wild and vivid renditions. But either way, through suggestion or description, when Morien had read those stories his mind had soared and his heart had sighed and he had felt a deep, hungry longing inside of him. What joy, what ecstasy, what rapture it must be, he would think, before remembering how it could never happen to him. Up until that night, Morien still had never thought it would happen to him. There inside the cabin, his heart beating out of his chest, his pulse surging wildly, his thoughts bursting with howling fears and doubts, he had been so afraid. But Julia had not minded.
“Morien,” she had whispered. “It’s alright. Just relax.”
“O-okay,” he had murmured, and done his best to comply.
She had been gentle, and caring, and supportive. She had answered every question, comforted every doubt, laughed and smiled and wrapped him in her warm embrace. And in the end, it had been so ordinary. It was not the physical act, not the bodies in motion, but the people enjoying each other that had made it so special. There were no sparks, no movement of the earth, no grand, tremendous change in anything. But Morien felt better, more relaxed, more at ease and at home.
He gazed at Julia’s sleeping face, and wondered how it was that they could ever have been brought together. The more Morien thought about it, the more he realized how unlikely, how dependent on pure chance and happenstance their first meeting had been. And yet somehow, they had met. Somehow, they had come together. Somehow, they had fallen in love. And from that meeting, so many other beautiful, wonderful, glorious things had happened to him. Morien didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow it had, and for a moment he was filled with the sheer realization of just how lucky he was. Thank you, Ar-Rahman, he thought, as he lay his head down and drifted off to sleep. Thank you for everything.
As Morien and Julia slept within the cabin, and Hobie lay in the arms of a dozing Yann, Erin was the first to be woken by the sounds of thunder. Drowsily she blinked, as she sat up and saw the dark clouds making their way towards the balloon, and with a cry she rushed over to the controls. Only once she’d arrived did she pause to consider the best course of action. What was she supposed to do? Go above the clouds? Was that even possible? Go below them? Wouldn’t that simply put them in the strike zone of the lightning? Then, around them? It hardly seemed a sane idea, but there was little time to develop an alternative, so with a quick chant and sneeze, Erin redirected the balloon to turn as sharply as she could.
Unfortunately, avoiding the path of the oncoming storm proved more difficult than Erin had hoped, and soon the pitiful balloon was drenched with rain as it skirted the edge of the tempest. Thankfully, the howling winds and roaring thunder were loud enough to wake everyone else up, and Erin soon found herself surrounded by her shouting, worried, remaining companions.
“It’s fine!” Erin tried to retain focus on her casting. “Just get to safety!”
“But-”
Then a bolt of lightning struck the balloon, and a massive, flaming hole began to let loose all the air.
“Oh no!” Erin cried, as the balloon began to fall, and the questers were tossed about in the destructive deluge.
Down, down, down they plummeted, and only through the calm intervention of Yann, who scooped and grabbed everyone into a single group, were they not separated. But they were still quickly approaching the rolling waves of the stormy sea. If the impact alone failed to kill them, surely the beasts that lurked beneath the surface or the suffocating waves themselves would finish them off. There was no hope. What option did they have left?
“The whistle!” Morien squeaked. “Who has the whistle?”
“What?” Julia bellowed. “At this height? We’ll be splatted like a pancake!”
“What else do we have?” Hobie asked.
Yann eyed the quickly-approaching océan.
“Oh… sard,” Erin sighed, before pulling out the whistle and blowing with all her might.
Instantly a boat appeared just beneath them, and the questers found their screaming, frightening fall accompanied by the screaming and falling of an entire ship. However, just as had been promised, they saw a trustworthy, and familiar, sea captain, clinging for dear life to the main mast.
“Great Heavens!” Captain Cazador cried. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, hey!” Morien exclaimed. “Captain!”
“You know the Headmistress?” Erin was surprised.
“Apologies for the circumstances of our meeting again, captain,” Hobie apologized.
Yann noticed that the océan waves were rapidly approaching.
“You? Again?” Cazador bellowed. “Oh for the love of-”
Before he could finish, the Argo plopped into the océan, and the crew scattered about, trying to reorient the ship even as the stormy winds rocked it about to and fro. For what seemed like hours all was confusion and strife, as the ill-prepared boat somehow managed to make its way through the tempest. But finally, as the sky began to clear, and the winds and waves died down, all those aboard at last could relax and gain a better handle of the situation.
“I see,” Cazador grumbled after the cause of his appearance had been explained. “Well, it seems fate has brought us into contact once again.”
“You still have the Keys?” Erin asked Morien concernedly.
“Y-yeah, right here,” Morien was glad he’d had time to dress before the sinking of their balloon. But now that they were on the boat of Captain Cazador, Morien couldn’t help but cast a concerned glance towards Julia. Her scowl told him everything he needed to know.
“How is old Alice?” Usuff grinned. “It’s been ages since we last talked.”
“Her name is Alice?” Erin could hardly imagine the Headmistress having a name. She had always simply been the Headmistress to her. And knowing Cazador as well?
“Yeah, heheh,” Usuff chuckled. “Though back when she was with the captain he called her-”
“Usuff!” Cazador barked, and the other crew-members slowly backed away from their captain.
“Erm, anyways,” Usuff gulped. “Where are you headed to?”
“The Isle of Thule,” Hobie explained. “I can guide us there, though I’m afraid I can’t provide a proper tail wind on my own.”
“Obviously,” Cazador sighed, before turning to Usuff. “How much food do we have left in store?”
“Well, we only went through about half the stuff we got from Zenda,” Usuff ran the numbers in his head. “So… still a couple weeks we should last.”
“I can assure you, Thule is close enough for that time to be more than sufficient,” Hobie said.
Cazador sighed, glancing briefly at Julia before turning away and making back towards his cabin.
“Very well,” he grunted. “Usuff, show them to their quarters.”
“Erm, say, Erin?” Usuff flagged the young witch down in the corridor.
“Hm?” Erin waited patiently as the first mate jogged over to her.
“That message, the one I asked you to pass on to Julia,” Usuff asked. “Did you give it to her?”
“Oh, that,” Erin sighed as she remembered. “Well…”
“Well what?”
“I tried to tell her, but…”
“If the captain wants to tell me something he can tell it to me himself,” Julia huffed as she sat on the bed that had been provided for her.
“But…” Morien mumbled.
“But nothing,” she said. “If he’s too much of a coward to even give me a simple message, then I have nothing to say to him.”
Morien sighed. As had been expected, as soon as the storm had passed and the full realization of what ship they were on had sunk in, a change had come over Julia, and even as he stood several feet away, Morien could feel the tides of fury rippling off her presence.
“I don’t… I don’t think he’s a coward.”
“Excuse me?” Julia turned an icy stare towards Morien.
“I m-mean,” Morien mumbled. “He vouched for us back in Aix. A-and he helped those villagers in Bastilla. And… I mean, he tried to…”
“Then if he’s so brave,” Julia’s tone sent a shiver down Morien’s spine. “He can come to see me himself.”
Any sane person would have ended the matter there. And yet Morien knew, as he clutched his saphie for courage, if the matter was not settled then and there, the whole trip to Thule would be unbearable for everyone.
“Th-then, I’ll go get him for you.”
Julia’s anger faltered for a moment, as she blinked in genuine surprise. “What?”
“Yeah!” Morien gulped. “I’ll bring him right here, and I’ll make him talk to you!’
“Morien you-!”
“Well if neither of you will talk to each other then someone has to do something!” Morien blurted out before fleeing the scene in horror. How could he have said such a thing? Did he want to end his relationship with Julia so soon after it had begun? Oh, Morien cursed himself for a fool, and dared not look back as he ran down the halls towards the captain’s quarters.
Julia sat alone on the bed, staring blankly at the door through which Morien had left.
“Come in,” the familiar baritone growl almost stopped Morien in his tracks. What was he doing? This was a fool’s errand, nothing more. Did he honestly think he could accomplish anything by this? What was he even supposed to say to the captain? He hadn’t thought about that, had he? A thousand dreadful doubts whizzed about his head, until Morien finally shushed them for good. He had already come this far! To turn back now would be cowardly. And so, after taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Morien opened the door and entered the captain’s quarters.
“Morien?” the captain sat up in his chair, from behind the desk where he had poured himself a glass of wine. Cazador was obviously surprised by Morien’s entrance, but quickly regained his composure, before pulling out another wine glass.
“Care for some?”
“Oh! Um, uh, th-thank you,” Morien gulped.
The two figures remained silent as the captain poured and handed the glass to Morien. Even the toast was tepid and awkward. Finally though, after a few half-hearted sips, Morien spoke.
“Captain.”
“Yes?”
“I, um… I understand you have a message for Julia?”
Cazador furrowed his brow. “How do you know that?”
“Um, sh-she told me,” Morien flinched under his gaze.
“I see,” Cazador grunted. “And did she send you then?”
“N-no. She…”
“Won’t come?”
“Um…”
“It’s alright,” Cazador sighed. “She always was a proud and stubborn one.”
“Th-then, why don’t you come to her?”
“You know her as well as I do, don’t you? You think she’d listen to anything I have to say?”
Morien had had just about enough of this.
“Well it’s better than simply sitting alone and sulking!” he blurted out. “Honestly, you and Julia both are so pig-headed! You keep waiting for the other to make the first step, then blame the other for not taking that step yourself! Maybe she won’t listen to you, but from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’ve even tried! I… I… um…”
As the steam that drove his outburst began to dwindle, Morien slowly began to curse himself even more. Why had he opened his big mouth? Already the captain was staring intently at him, his face etched in shock and confusion and anger. What was he going to say? Was he going to kick Morien out? Oh please, don’t be too violent, Morien prayed.
“Morien…” Cazador began, and the young man steeled himself for the oncoming explosion.
To his surprise though, it never came.
“Where… where are you from?” Cazador whispered.
“What?” Morien blinked in surprise.
“Where are you from?” Cazador asked again, this time more desperately.
“T-the Songhay Empire.”
“But what tribe? What people?”
“Er, Mandenka. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Mandenka…” Cazador muttered, and Morien was more confused than ever.
“Erm, Captain?”
“Leave me,” the captain said, with an edge that caught Morien off-guard.
“But Julia-”
“I… yes, I shall go to her. But first I… leave me now, please.”
“I… alright,” Morien was unsure of how honest Cazador was, but saw from his expression that he was lost to the world. To press the matter further would do no good. So, with nothing better to do, Morien left the room.
To his surprise, he found Julia standing outside.
“Julia? What are you-?”
“You always have to go and do this, don’t you?” she said. “Always stick your nose in other people’s business.”
“I… I’m so-”
“Stop. You’re always doing that too; apologizing, even when there’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I’m- I mean…”
Before he could finish, Julia placed a hand on his cheek, and smiled sadly back at him.
“I’m glad I met you, Morien. I really am. I love you.”
“I… I love you too,” Morien still felt chills every time he said those words.
“See you in a bit,” Julia whispered, before knocking on the captain’s door and entering.
Morien stood in silence, lost and confused, but strangely certain that things were working out.
Julia and Cazador remained in silence, neither one doing much beyond sipping tepidly at their wine, each one waiting for the other to begin.
Julia was the first to break the silence.
“I understand you have something to say to me?”
Cazador sighed, and poured another glass of wine, which he downed in a single gulp. Julia hadn’t noticed until then, but he truly was old. His skin was cracked and wrinkled, his beard was drained of color, even the blue in his eyes seemed faded and aged. And she saw then that he was shaking, visibly shaking. With what she couldn’t tell; perhaps anger, sadness, or even something else. But even as his hands shook, the captain reached into his left breast pocket and tossed a charm towards Julia.
“Not me,” he whispered. “Raul.”
“Wh-what?”
“Listen for yourself,” Cazador poured himself another glass.
“Hm?” Morien looked up as he saw Julia exit the captain’s quarters. To his surprise, she hardly seemed to notice him. Her gaze was transfixed solely on the object that lay in her hands.
“Ju-” Morien tried to call out to her, before a familiar hand on his shoulder stopped him. Glancing up in surprise, he saw Yann calmly shaking his head. This was something Julia had to deal with on her own.
Julia closely examined the charm from the hidden spot where she sat. It was a simple ether charm, used by naval commanders to organize and communicate amongst themselves across the vast distances between their ships. Such charms had only a limited charge, typically they were only good for one battle. And afterwards, a local mage would wipe them clean, and erase all the messages that had been exchanged. But this charm, it was old, old and battered and worn. It hardly looked like it had been cleaned at all recently, either magically or physically. What message had been so important, that the captain should have kept it so close to his heart?
With a deep breath, Julia concentrated, and activated the charm. That was when she heard it.
“Raul!” Julia whispered, and tears began to fall down her face as all the memories of her brother came flooding back to her in crystalline clarity. And she heard him, talking with Cazador, with the other commanders, at the Battle of Barbarossa. She heard their plans as they prepared for battle, heard their cries as they entered the fray, heard their screams as the Andalusi forces overwhelmed them, heard their anguish as they realized the battle was lost, heard their desperation as they attempted to retreat. It was only Cazador and Raul left. Only their ships remained unsunk, only their men held a chance of escaping.
And she heard them.
“They’re coming in too quickly sir! It’s one of us or both of us!” Raul cried.
“Don’t talk like that, man! Enough men have died today!” Cazador bellowed.
“Even more will die… if I don’t block them.”
“Have you gone mad, boy? Don’t throw your life away for an old sea rat like me!”
“You know… I grew up reading stories of the Dread Pirate Cazador. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“I…”
“You see them coming in now, Captain. The only way one of us can escape is if the other one blocks their path. Better the hero of every Antilian boy live than some noble fop like me, eh?”
“I’m no hero. I’m… you can’t throw your life away for me, Ventura. I won’t let you.”
“That’s not your decision to make. Men! Ready about!”
“No! You can’t!”
“My family, Captain. Tell them… forgive me.”
“Ventura! VENTURA!”
And as the captain’s screams continued, Julia hurled the charm across the room and broke down into sobs. All these years, all this time, she had hoped, she had prayed, she had needed for her brother to still be out there somewhere, waiting for her to come and take him home. But now here was proof, here was a message from that very day, a recording of his death. He was gone, wasn’t he? Really and truly gone, with nothing Julia could do to change it. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! Why had Yehovah taken so much from her?
“Hoo, chilly tonight,” Usuff rubbed himself to stop the shivering. “We’re definitely in Skraeling waters now.”
“Skraeling?” Hobie asked from where he sat in Yann’s arms. They alone were unaffected by the cold.
“Dark-skinned men who wear the skins of beasts,” Usuff explained. “Only the most foolhardy and devout of Vanske explorers ever dared venture to their lands, but the tales they’ve brought back…”
“And you have heard no such tales of Moors in Antile?” Hobie glowed.
“Haha, touché, my friend,” Usuff grinned. “Still, even if they come back home to their wives and children and live average ordinary lives like any other man, their raiders on the sea’ll still hunt us down like dogs if they catch wind of our scent. We’d best be on our guard.”
“Sir!” a sailor ran up to Usuff.
“Yes, what is it lad?”
“Th-the water, sir. We’re stuck!”
“Stuck?” Hobie flashed. “But the wind is at our backs.”
Yes, Yann pointed to where the water could be seen. But the wind was evidently not the problem.
“I don’t believe it!” Usuff cried, as he ran over to the Argo’s side, just to make sure he was not imagining the sight before him. All around the boat, the océan had become completely still. The waves still rolled in the distance, but the water around the Argo held it in place like a vise.
“What manner of magic is this?” Hobie asked.
“Not Skraeling magic,” Usuff shook his head. “There’s nothing in the tales that mentioned anything like this.”
“Then what-?”
“Um, s-sir?” the sailor squeaked.
“Yes, what is it boy?” Usuff asked.
That, Yann pointed out into the distance.
From the bed where she lay, staring up at the ceiling, Erin suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. Instantly she sat up, her staff at the ready. But why? What had caused that shiver to pass through her? Unless…
Erin snatched the yoke up from beneath her bed and stared intently at it, looking for the answer she sought. To her dismay, she found it.
“No,” she whispered, and lunged out of the room. She had to intervene, before it became a full-fledged warzone on deck.
With a colossal moan, the great, wooden ark pounced upon the Argo, as pirates lobbed grappling hooks on board and leapt into action. The pale moonlight shone brightly upon the boats as the sailors took up swords and fought bravely against their foes. As all the hands rushed up on deck though, it soon became apparent which way the conflict would turn. Cazador and his men were too unprepared and outnumbered by the vast horde of pirates that had boarded them. There was simply no way to win this battle.
But then, a brilliant burst of green light exploded from the main deck, and the sailors all gazed up in awe to see Erin, her staff held high and her eyes glowing fiercely. What was she doing? Preparing for a deadly spell? Summoning some hellish fiend? What?
“Tituba!” she cried. “I know you’re there! Stop this at once! You’d attack a fellow sister? This is my boat, and I order you to cease and desist at once!”
Tituba? Those not familiar with the name exchanged words and glances of confusion, while those who were still did not understand. Who was this woman, and how did she know this Tituba?
“Erin?”
A gentle indigo began to emanate from a woman on the ark. From her proud and authoritative stance which belied her thin and wiry frame, the dark-skinned woman was obviously of some high standing among the pirates. As they all began to howl and cry in shock and surprise though, it was soon apparent to the Antilian sailors that she was in fact none other than their captain. And after turning to exchange words with her first mate, whose clothes and hair shifted like rainbow waves, she had soon given the order for her crew to stand down. The sailors eyed each other fiercely, still suspicious after having locked swords only so recently, but after Cazador had given the order, his men too put down their blades.
“My deepest apologies, Sister Green,” Tituba bowed deeply. “But these waters are cursed. We thought you were trespassers, and sought to halt your intrusion.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the first mate grinned sheepishly.
“It’s alright,” Erin breathed a sigh of relief. “Just so long as no-one was killed.”
“Maybe so,” Tituba glanced at her troops. “But the wounded will have to be tended to.”
“Er, pardon me,” Hobie and Yann moved hesitantly towards the pirate captain. “You said these waters are cursed?”
“Yes,” Tituba nodded. “Tutuatuin Island lies at the center of this sea, and the secrets it guards are too powerful to allow those unworthy to step foot on it.”
“Tutuatuin…” Hobie muttered. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Thule, would you?”
“Thule?” Tituba furrowed her brow. “I… don’t know. But you, Erin - Tutuatuin, Tuatha Dé Danann - don’t your people call it Tír na nÓg?”
“Yes!” Erin cried. “Then, you know the way to it?”
“W-well, yes, but-!” Tituba said. “Didn’t you hear? Only those worthy-”
“I am an Angelic Sphere, an emissary of the Island herself,” Hobie glowed as brightly as he could. “I have deemed my current traveling companions worthy of entry. Please, allow us safe passage.”
“You…” Tituba gazed in awe at Hobie, before exchanging glances with her first mate. “Wren? What do you think?”
“Hmmm,” the first mate closed her eyes in thought, as her hair and clothes began to glow with an even brighter intensity. At last, once the light had settled down, Wren winked Tituba’s way, satisfied in what she had found.
“Yep! His light’s the same as the island’s,” Wren grinned, before turning her interested gaze towards Yann. “And you… you’re like me, aren’t you?”
Not quite, Yann smiled. But not far off either.
“Please madam,” Hobie asked calmly. “It’s imperative that I get my companions to the island before my power runs out completely.”
“But…” Tituba evidently took her duties very seriously.
“Please, Tituba, for me?” Erin pleaded.
Tituba stared long and hard at Erin, before glancing at the sailors around her.
“First we tend to the wounded,” she said at last. “At dawn we can discuss this island.”