“Cease speaking, Jerick,” Kjell commanded, but Jerick’s impudence made him laugh, in spite of himself. He closed his eyes and curled his hands around the piece of the mast protruding from Jerick’s belly. He couldn’t make Jerick whole if there was a stick buried in him. Somehow he had to pull it free without killing the man.
Kjell ignored the groaning of the vessel, the cries of those urging him to abandon ship. He thought of the wound he’d carved on Jerick’s face, a mark inflicted to put him in his place. Kjell had wasted his gift. He hoped the insignificance of the wound he’d healed wouldn’t affect his ability to save Jerick’s life now. Jerick—disobedient, defiant, dependable, and dying.
Briefly Kjell wished for Sasha’s hand in his, but knew he didn’t need Sasha to help him find compassion for Jerick. Kjell loved Jerick. He loved him, and he could heal him. With a bellow for courage, he yanked the shaft free and cupped his hands over the bubbling blood that rose from the hole.
“You bloody son-of-a-bitch, Jerick. You will listen to me, Lieutenant. You will listen and do exactly as I say,” Kjell shouted.
Jerick had done as ordered and ceased speaking. His eyes were closed and his breaths shallow, no more energy for jest. Someone was shouting Kjell’s name, but he ignored them, pushing his fury and his fervor out his hands and into Jerick’s abdomen, commanding Jerick’s body to heal itself, to knit the flesh and mend the damage to every vessel and every vein, to every organ and orifice. He ordered Jerick’s body to remember and restore, to preserve and endure, and he sang a damned drinking song—Jerick’s favorite—bellowing the melody as he begged the boy to remain.
“Heave ho, back we go, the ale is coming to ya. Heave ho, back it goes, ale is flowing through ya,” Kjell sang, and imagined it was healing, not ale, flowing into his lieutenant, soaking him in life and light. The salt water stung Kjell’s eyes so he closed them tightly, feeling the heat in his hands and the vibrations in his palms.
And he sang, and he sang.
“Never mind, Captain,” Jerick breathed after the fifth chorus. Kjell’s eyes snapped open. Jerick was staring up at him cheekily. “I don’t really like your drinking songs. I’d rather hear about love and fair ladies.”
Kjell eased back, noting the pinking of Jerick’s skin and the genuine grin on his lips. His shredded tunic—gaping open where the mast had skewered his stomach—revealed new, unblemished skin streaked with gore and the bloody imprints of Kjell’s hands.
“I knew you cared, Captain,” Jerick muttered and inhaled deeply, as if celebrating the sensation. Kjell rolled to his back on the remains of the forecastle deck and began to laugh, weakly at first, then with lusty appreciation, howling gratefully until Jerick wobbled to his feet and extended his hand. Together, they stumbled to the rails and, with little finesse, tossed themselves overboard, trusting that their friends on the other ship would fish them out again.
***
When the final headcount was made, Peter, Gibbous, two sailors, and the second ship’s captain—Egen Barnaby—were missing and believed drowned. Five men buried at sea. Kjell took their deaths hard. Sasha took them harder, assuming responsibility for things she hadn’t seen or properly prepared them for, blaming herself for the voyage across the water and the perils of the unknown. Regardless of Kjell’s insistence that she could not manipulate fate, and Padrig’s reassurance that the voyage would help more people than it hurt, she held herself accountable.
The remaining ship, now carrying twice as many passengers as she had at the beginning of her journey, limped into the Bay of Dendar two days later. Unlike Jeru’s coast with its tropical trees and soft, sand beaches, Dendar’s shores were rocky with soaring cliffs and narrow inlets just wide enough to sail a ship down the corridor, a buffer from the sea.
Once past the corridor, the inlet widened again to a sprawling shoreline, revealing the signs of abandoned prosperity and the well-constructed docks that had once moored dozens of ships, big and small. Amid the staggering cliffs, the greenery was rich and resplendent, the trees creating a shadowy sentry above the rocks. Beyond the harbor, a spiked wall also attested to human settlement, though it wouldn’t have kept a single birdman from breaching the height and finding its prey.
As the ship entered the silent harbor, the travelers stood at the rails and waited, watching for signs of life before they moved to disembark. Empty structures and a desolate dock, it was Kilmorda without the ships marooned in the bay. Sasha was mute at the helm, as if she had expected as much, as if she’d seen the abandoned seaport.
“There are no ships,” Isak marveled.
“No. Those who could flee, did,” Padrig answered.
“And those who couldn’t?” Isak asked.
“They died. Or they hid. Or they spun themselves into something the Volgar wouldn’t eat.”
“There is no one here, Spinner,” Kjell said.
“We will go to Caarn,” Padrig soothed, as if that would rectify everything, but Sasha looked at the Spinner, her brow lowered, her eyes shuttered, and Padrig said no more.
Half of the sailors and the guard were lowered into the water on the longboats and rowed ashore, waiting on the docks for the ship to gently moor so lines could be tossed, the anchor dropped, and a gangplank lowered. Four years after Queen Saoirse had left Dendar, she returned, disembarking with the weary voyagers sent to escort her home. No one ran out to greet them, no citizens of Dendar showed themselves or stepped out from hiding places celebrating the arrival of the bedraggled delegation from Jeru or the return of their queen.
With the loss of one ship, everything had changed. Captain Lortimer and his crew would be forced to either wait in the harbor until the expeditioners returned, or they could join them. Captain Lortimer wasn’t eager to return to a sea with a creature who could drag a ship beneath the surface, but he still complained about his choices.
“I’m a bloody ship’s captain, not an explorer.” Lortimer grimaced. But he threw his lot in with Kjell, indicating he’d just as soon stay close to the man who could heal and kill with equal prowess. His sailors were quick to agree.