Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 22

The Captain stood at the prow of her ship, leaning against the rail. After getting a splinter from doing exactly this a week earlier, she had told the crew to sand and polish the rail and the deck of the ship. They had just finished, and she ran her fingers over the smooth wood, admiring the shiny new varnish. Her ship wasn't much, but it was hers, and she took pride in it and her crew.

She had instituted a rule that everyone must bathe when they make port, and she encouraged many of the men to wipe themselves down each night with a wet rag and some oil, as she did. It wasn't quite her nightly baths she had known as a princess, but it was better than only bathing once a month. She brushed her hair every night to keep it clean. When she first took power, she had wanted to let her fiery hair flow freely, but wind quickly nixed that idea for her. So, she took to showing off her hair by wearing it in intricate braids, only wearing it down for theatre nights with the crew. She had invested some of their profits into a thick gel that kept the sun from burning their skin and some fruit to fight off what her crew called 'scurvy'.

The profits were good, but still not where she wanted them to be. She sighed, studying the dark water rushing below. Without the sun, the sea looked like black glass, lit up by the blanket of stars above them. That was her favorite thing about being at sea, the millions and millions of stars that were visible to her now. There were plenty of stars in Khepri, but nothing like this. She remembered peering through the Library's telescope, identifying and cataloging stars winking at her in the sky. Now, that memory seemed to belong to another girl, from another life.

"Captain," a soft voice said from behind her. She turned.

"Baranabas," she said. She flashed him her mischievous half-smile. "You know better than to interrupt my brooding."

"Sorry, Captain," he said, laughing nervously. He stood next to her, his shoulders tense and stiff. No matter what she said or did, she could not get Barnabas to relax. "I just -- well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You started hanging your head, and you only do that when you're real upset."

"I'm alright," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just thinking about the deals, the profits, the usual."

"Captain," Baranabas said. Something in his voice made her turn and look at him. His fidgeting hands were still, and he was looking at her intensely. "The profits are fine. You've turned every deal in our favor. You're doing everything you can. The crew is happy. What more could you want?"

She blinked. "I . . . I'm not sure." She smiled. "You have left me with no words. I don't find myself in that position often."

He appeared to blush, although it was hard to tell with the seemingly permanent sunburn across his nose and cheeks. "I just want to help, Captain."

"Thank you," she said, clapping his shoulder. "It's not your fault. I often find myself in this position."

"You remind me of a dog I had growing up. No matter how often we fed her, pet her, played with her, she was always begging for one thing or another."

"Are you calling me a bitch, Barnabas?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No! No, I -- "

"Captain!" a crewman called Whoredog said, running to the prow. The Captain still had not figured out why he was called Whoredog, as he was not particularly attractive or salacious, but no one would tell her his gods-given name. Barnabas shot him a grateful look before taking in the fear in his eyes and the sweat on his brow. "There's . . . I think there's somethin' you should see."

"What -- " Before she could finish her reply, the ship jerked to a stop, as if it had hit a sandbar. She stumbled, along with Barnabas and Whoredog, her side slamming into the rail of the ship. She looked over the prow, but she couldn't see any rocks or shallow water, just miles and miles of black, glassy sea.

"Kaius!" Whoredog shouted. "Mind the feckin' lookout, will ya? What did we hit?"

"I don't know!" Kaius called back. The Captain couldn't spot him among the sails in the dark, but she could hear the fear in his voice. A chill ran down her spine, but she was careful to keep her expression neutral. She couldn't afford to show fear, not when she had worked so hard for their respect.

"Arti! Go below and make sure we're not taking on water," she boomed. "Everyone else, figure out what the hell we hit!"

Then, she heard it. The beautiful screaming. She thought those nightmares were only in the Koios Strait; she thought she would never hear that sound again. Her stomach suddenly felt full of acid. Whoredog's and Barnabas's eyes went glassy, and her crew began slowly walking to the portside.

"No," she murmured. "No, no, no, no -- " she grabbed Barnabas's bony shoulders and shook him. "Barnabas! Stop this! Stop them!" With surprising strength for his scrawny frame, he pushed her away and stumbled to the rail. Hot tears ran down her face. "Stop!" 

She sprinted to the rail and pulled her sword from its scabbard, though she wasn't sure what good it would be on whatever monsters made this sound. She looked down into the dark water, squinting to see in the dim light from the stars and the lanterns on the ship. Shiny, silver fins cut through the water. She gaped in horror at the spiny fins circling each other as she struggled to recognize the animal. She grabbed her dagger from her belt and hurled it point down into the water with a roar, hoping to spear one of the beasts. She heard a screech that hurt her ears, and the men groaned and backed away from the rail for a moment. With a splash and another awful wail, one of the creatures hurled itself from the water, and suddenly she was face-to-face with what looked like a woman with silver skin and enormous, solid-black eyes. She looked down and saw that the creature was clutching the rail of the ship with its hands, holding itself eye-level with her.

She wanted to scream, but it was like there was no air in her lungs. The men turned to the beast, but their faces were still blank. Then, she remembered she was holding her sword.

But as she raised it, some of the creature's silvery-white hair wrapped around her wrist, squeezing until she gasped in pain and dropped the sword. She couldn't look away from its flat, black eyes, and they stared at each other for what seemed like eternities. Her chest heaved, struggling to find air, but she still couldn't scream. Another section of the creature's hair seemed to come to life and reach for her other wrist. She struggled, but the creature gripped her wrist tighter, and then the wet, slimy strands were yanking her closer, until she could smell brine and fish, and then it pulled her towards it. Hard.

She tumbled over the railing, and finally, she screamed. She plunged into the cold water, her bones aching from the impact. The voices were all around her. She struggled to swim to the surface. She gasped and coughed as she breached, only to be dragged back under as soon as she had taken a breath.

"Stop fighting us," a voice said. It echoed strangely, like someone calling down a long tunnel. "We want to help you."

She realized the voice was coming from the creature. She stilled, staring at the creature with her eyes wide. "Who -- " she began to say, and her mouth filled with water. She was heaved to the surface, where she once again coughed and breathed before being pulled back below. She could hardly see in the dark water, and the salt burned her eyes, but she still tried to look at what was speaking to her.

"Don't speak. Listen," the creature said. She could see blurry, silver shapes moving all around her. She fought her instincts and tried to focus on what it was saying. "We have a proposition for you. We know someone who can help you be the best. Follow us, and you will find what you are looking for."

Then, the creature grabbed her and surged up, throwing her back onto the deck. The Captain landed in a heap, her fall cushioned by a few members of the crew. The singing stopped, and the men began murmuring and rubbing their eyes.

"Oy! My damned finger!" a crewman underneath her was saying. But she didn't move, until the men she had landed on had to push her off. She sat on the deck, her braids dripping. Barnabas rushed to her side, checking her for wounds.

"Captain," Whoredog said, his jaw slack and his brow creased. "Why are you all wet?"