Indebted (working title)

The Message (part 1)

The Almsgiver had been fighting hard against the unnatural storm and the three hungry spires of wind that threatened to devour it, but... she was losing. The crew who manned her, worked feverishly to turn her side to the spouts, but this had the unfortunate side effect of bringing the sails into a strong headwind that tore massive wound-like fissures into their fabric. Tattered white cloth draped lifelessly from the masts and the almsgiver's final push to escape the hungry maw of the violent sea, teetered out. Slowly but surely the spouts drew her in and slowly but surely the work ceased yet again. Then, exhausted and disheartened, the men gathered on the deck to watch. They watched the water churn and swell, they watched as it crashed into the Almsgiver and burst into explosions of white salty foam, and they watched as the dark vortexes spun wildly and called to them with a sinister hungry sounding roar. Melody looked skyward and watched as lightning strobed in bright purple flashes behind the clouds. With a trembling hand, he gestured the sign of the cross.

Time ticked by slowly in the ship's hold. Ekon, practically bursting with rage and confusion, stared intently at Shakale as he released captives one by one. Occasionally his Eyes would pan to the strange man in the green scarf and the woman who'd released him. The one known as Zian was somewhat handsome but bore the marks of various misadventures. The tight shiny skin of poorly healed burns, and awful, jagged, remnants from once deep cuts, wrapped his arms like ugly stripes. Patches of his scarred body had healed with lighter tones that clashed with his dark complexion and gave him the appearance of someone stitched together with bits of other people. hazel eyes seemed to constantly be scanning the area, darting quickly around the hold. The woman, Adaeze, watched Shakale with the type of cautious gaze that Ekan had observed in predators debating on whether or not to risk attacking prey much larger than themselves. Zian had returned her knife and she gripped it tightly as she studied Shakale, her expression shifting between genuine curiosity and unrelenting fury.

Ekon looked over at Amobi, who waited so calmly and sat so still that Ekon wondered if he might be asleep. How did this situation line up with the things Amobi's sharp ears had heard, he wondered. Did he know this would happen? Ekan was surprised to see the men Shakale freed, standing passively, surely they did not need Shakale now. He'd freed enough men for them to kill him and take the key by force. He'd convinced himself that this was what any rational person would do but Instead, the captives watched him with an almost palpable silence that went on for minutes on end until finally, Adaeze cleared her throat and broke it.

"Why", She said flatly. As she turned the knife over in her hand.

Shakale's eyes briefly flickered skyward as if he feared someone above him was listening. "I saw the message, and I understood. You should be glad... you have purpose now".

"My purpose is to kill you.", Ekon interjected.

Shakale sighed and hung his head. He pulled his key from the lock he had been working on and allowed the chains to fall to the floor with a splash and low metallic clank. He walked over to Ekon, grabbed his bony wrist, and snatched him forward. Ekon was so close to Shakale that he could feel stray hairs from his thick curly beard brush against his sweaty face and he wondered if the beast would kill him while he kneeled there, chained and defenseless. He knew Shakale was a coward but he found himself hoping he possessed some capacity to feel shame, that some dormant part of him still knew what honor was. "No..", he thought as he stared into Shakale's dull, jaundiced eyes. This beast did not care about honor, what beasts do? Leopards who hunt stealthily and stalk prey like deadly shadows, do not seek fair fights, neither do wild dogs that give chase to their victims and overwhelm them with their numbers. Shakale was an animal and animals concern themselves with survival... not honor. Ekon pulled just enough moisture into his dry mouth, to spit into Shakale's eyes. Shakale did not react, he didn't even blink. Instead, he peered at Ekon and studied his own reflection in his light, brown eyes.