Trevn
The days went by in snatches of work and sleep. One week passed in relative ease. A second brought nothing but downpours of rain, so much that people complained. Trevn knew better. He insisted every empty barrel be brought above deck to catch the water. After leaving Bakurah Island, they’d had enough water for twelve weeks. Now they still had enough for twelve. Despite Wilek’s confidence at having changed course to the northwest, they could never afford to grow lax while their destination remained unknown.
The farther north they traveled, the cooler the temperature. Today the sky had been gray and murky. It had not yet rained, but the fog was thick. The sails were shortened and the sea anchor was dropped—a precaution to reduce speed and keep from running into the other ships.
The strangest sounds came out from the fog. Trickles of water, a glub, a sigh, gushing water followed by a splash, and the occasional moaning of some sea creature. When on watch, Trevn liked to sit perfectly still—or stand in the rigging—and ponder the source of each noise.
His demanding schedule left little time to see Mielle, as she was often preoccupied with feeding passengers or helping plan Lady Zeroah’s wedding. Trevn had grown thinner from so much physical activity. He gloried over his callused hands and muscled arms, which to him were the greatest proof of his learning to sail. His daredevil ways made hanging from the rigging a joy on a sunny day, and a thrill when he clung to it in the dark or when rain made everything slippery and the wind threatened to blow him away like seed.
And now Nietz was teaching him to fight—not with swords like a noble prince, but with fists and feet and teeth. Incapacitation was the key to survival in such nasty brawls, so Nietz said. It was all rather vulgar, though extremely effective at quickly ending a confrontation. It also shed some light on how so many sailors had broken noses and fingers.
As the midday passed and evening came, the fog and clouds had cleared. Captain Livina sent Trevn to apprentice with Master Granlee, the navigator. This was one of Trevn’s favorite things to learn. The navigator was a thin man in his fifties with a stately posture and narrow fingers, which he used to operate the cross-staff, a tool that measured angles formed by the sun, moon, or stars over the horizon and helped fix the ship’s position on the vast expanse of the uncharted Northsea. Master Granlee had spent their first few hours of each session teaching Trevn how to use the cross-staff and giving him time to practice. Once Trevn had the basic idea, the man had spent the next nights explaining how a navigator might use guiding stars to keep a ship on course at night.
“Guiding stars are those that have just risen or are about to set, depending on whether your course be an easterly or westerly one,” Granlee said as they stood together on the stern deck that night. “Most guiding stars can only be used to steer by for a certain time. When the star rises too high or moves too far to either side, the next star to rise at the same point is used in its stead.”
“How many stars does it usually take to get through the night?” Trevn asked.
“It’s rare to need more than ten guiding stars for a night’s sailing,” Master Granlee said, “but since we are sailing north, we have no need of guiding stars.” He sighed. “The farther north we travel, the longer the nights. I don’t know the star path here like I do back home. In fact, some of these constellations puzzle me.”
“How so?”
“I’ve never seen them before,” he admitted. “A navigator should know the sky well enough that a mere glance at the stars suffices to give him his bearings. Now, I can chart courses and calculate latitude as well as any man alive, but I do not know these waters. Or these new stars.” He gestured at the northern horizon. “Do you know the first trick of navigation?”
“I don’t,” Trevn admitted.
The man grinned. “Follow the coast.”
Trevn chuckled politely and studied the stars, his gaze traveling back to Nivanreh’s Eye. What he saw made him uneasy. “Master Granlee, it seems that the Southern Star is directly behind us.”
“Well done, Sâr Trevn. You are a quick learner. The king believes the god of travel will lead us to land, and so we sail before him and pray he guides us well.”
“But that order was changed two weeks ago,” Trevn said. “We should be sailing northwest.”
“Oh, we did for a time, but last night the admiral bid we sail north again on the path set by Nivanreh’s Eye.”
“Excuse me,” Trevn said, walking away. “I must speak with the captain at once.”
“Admiral Vendal,” Wilek said. “Schwyl says you visited the king yesterday.”
On a hunch Trevn had gone first to Captain Livina, who took one look at the night sky and cursed Admiral Vendal and Rosâr Echad for their foolish superstitions. Trevn had awakened Wilek and told him everything. Now the two brothers stood in the admiral’s cabin with a bleary-eyed Vendal.
“I did,” the admiral said, “but why is that cause to wake me in the middle of the night?”
“You superseded an order from the king,” Wilek said.
“No, I asked him to change his order back, to trust his instincts. You superseded his order, Your Highness.”
Wilek’s jaw tightened, so Trevn jumped in. “Why do you care which direction we sail? Why do you feel north is best?”
“When in doubt, I have always sailed by Nivanreh’s Eye,” the admiral said. “That is a much safer decision than taking the word of an aberration.”
King Loran, does he mean? But Wilek’s guess made better sense.
“You are referring to Miss Onika?”
“She is no prophetess,” the admiral said. “She is a witch. Feed her to the sea and we will find land, I guarantee it. There is a curse upon this voyage.”
Such open hostility shocked Trevn, who looked again to Wilek to respond.
“We are all alive today because of Miss Onika’s warnings,” Wilek said. “Have you forgotten so soon?”
“Athos warned of apocalypse long before the aberration came alone. Justice came from the hand of Athos and always will.”
“You’re Athosian?” Trevn couldn’t believe it. An Athosian fanatic leading the fleet.
Admiral Vendal straightened his posture. “I am.”
“Athosians reject my father’s sovereignty,” Wilek said. “They wish me and my brothers dead.”
“I don’t deny that many Athosians do,” the admiral said. “But I simply wish us to find land, and I know that Athos will lead us there if we are true to him.”
“This fleet needs an admiral who is true to the king,” Wilek said. “I can see that you are not. Novan,” he called, waving the man over from where he stood just inside the door. “Arrest the admiral. He is relieved of his duties. Rystan, fetch Captain Livina and bring him here.”
“You would give rule of the fleet to a madman?” Vendal asked.
“Better a loyal madman than a disloyal mastermind,” Wilek said.
The admiral was taken into custody, ranting as he went that Athos would bring judgment upon them all.
“Captain Livina is not crazy,” Trevn told Wilek as they sat on a longchair in the admiral’s cabin and waited for the captain to arrive.
“Do you honestly think I would reinstate him as admiral if I thought he was?” Wilek asked.
“Then what of Father?” Trevn asked. He had always joked of his father’s insanity, but their current reality was not at all humorous.
“I would like to call a council meeting and move for a regency period, until his health improves.”
“That seems best,” Trevn said.
“Yes, but will the rest of the council think so? I doubt Kamran or Canbek would vote me into power.”
“Danek, Oli, and Rystan,” Trevn said. “That is three of five in your favor, brother. That’s all you need.”
Before Wilek could answer, shouts on the deck outside brought him and Trevn to their feet.
“Serpents!” a voice called out.
Wilek started toward the door. “In all this drama with the admiral, we forgot to give the order to change the heading.”
Trevn and Wilek ran from the admiral’s cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, where they found Bussie at the whip. The deck was pale with predawn light.
“Where are they?” Trevn asked.
“Just one so far,” Bussie said. “It’s attacking the Berith. Dead ahead.”
Trevn left Wilek and ran across the platform of rope harpings that passed over the main deck. He continued all the way to the forecastle, not stopping until he reached the bow. The waves were high and Trevn gripped the rail to hold himself steady. They were a safe distance back from the Berith. Close enough to read the words on the stern, but far enough back to turn about. He saw no serpent. The galley ship was heeling slightly to port and taking on water through its port oar piercings. Half the oars on that side were missing.
Then the sea swelled until the surface broke. A glossy gray head rose out of the waves. Trevn was looking at its back, so he could see only that its neck was so long it looked like a giant snake. A steamy breath puffed out from its head just before it rammed the port quarter, snapping the remaining oars in half. The ship jerked, the hull cracked, and a hole splintered just above the waterline.
“They’re hit!” a lookout yelled down. “The Berith is breeched on the port side!”
The galley was listing now. And the more water it took on, the slower it went. The Seffynaw would have to move or the two ships would collide.
Trevn ran back across the harpings to the quarterdeck. Captain Livina was on deck now. He had taken command, though Bussie still manned the whip.
The captain yelled, “Clew up the mains’l! Stand by to heave to!”
The crew on watch raced to their stations.
“I don’t want to be anywhere near that beast when it’s roused up like that,” he told Trevn. “I’d come about if I didn’t have a fleet at my back.” Then he yelled out, “Square the main!”
On the harping platform the crew hauled the starboard braces to square up the main top. This reduced the ship’s speed almost instantly.
“Hard to starboard, Master Bussie.”
The second mate obeyed, and the ship turned into the wind. The royals on the fore and mizzen tops lifted, and the ship came to a stop, drifting to port.
“Hold her steady!” the captain yelled, and the crew kept her in position by hauling and slacking on the foresheets.
Once they had drifted a good distance west of the wreck, the captain gave the orders to make the ship fall off and sail forward again. The foresheets were hauled to, the spanker was eased out to port, and the helm put hard a-port. Once the sails filled, the ship started making headway again. The main sail was set, all sails trimmed, and the ship quickly picked up speed.
While all this had been happening, bowmen soldiers had flooded the main deck and lined the port rail. Captain Alpress paced behind the King’s Guard, shouting orders to ready their bows.
“Take command, Master Bussie,” Captain Livina said, walking toward the stairs to the main deck.
“I’ve got the deck,” Bussie said.
Trevn chased after the captain, following him to the main deck and the line of soldiers.
“Captain Alpress!” Livina yelled. “Order your men to lower their weapons at once.”
“Why would I do that, Captain?”
“Because I command it, and the safety of this ship outranks your desire to hunt.”
“That beast is killing people, or can’t you see that?”
“Fire one arrow at the serpent and you lure it to us. I have experience with these beasts and know their minds. Trying to kill one is suicide. Now order your men to stand down!”
Alpress set his jaw and glared at the captain.
“Stand down, Captain Alpress!” Wilek had joined them, and he did not look happy. “Any man who fires at the serpent will face the pole.”
Captain Alpress gave the order for the soldiers to lower their bows. The Seffynaw closed on the Berith, listing slightly as nearly everyone on deck lined the starboard rail for a view. Shouts, screams, and splashing rang clear across the water, accompanied by low moans from the serpent. Soldiers on the Berith had already engaged in war against the creature. A shower of arrows rained down almost continually, but most of them glanced off the creature’s thick skin. Perhaps one in fifty stuck, and when this happened, the creature howled and thrashed, knocking into the sinking ship and breaking her further.
The serpent suddenly rose out of the sea, its neck like that of a giant eel. It slithered onto the Berith’s main deck and curled around the mainmast, knocking people aside as it went. Its front legs appeared—no, those were tentacles. They clutched the starboard rail just as its head turned back for the water. Its weight and its hold on the mast pulled the ship down. Men dove into the water moments before the Berith went under completely.
The Seffynaw passed by all this in relative silence, broken by a few whispers and murmurs of horror. Trevn couldn’t believe how quickly the Berith had gone under. He imagined the creature dragging the entire ship all the way down to the sandy ocean floor where—
Something shot out of the ocean, spraying a salty gush of water over the starboard side of the Seffynaw. The cold water drenched Trevn, but he ignored it, shocked to see that the Berith had bobbed to the surface. It still lay on its side. Water ran off its hull. Trevn heard a man sputtering and coughing somewhere but could not see him.
A chorus of screams rang out from the Seffynaw, pulling Trevn’s gaze to the front of the ship. The serpent was again moving toward the Berith, gliding on the top of the water like an arrow, sending hundreds of ripples spiraling like ribbons in its wake. This time Trevn could see its face. It had three deep-set black eyes and a maw of tangled, needlelike teeth. Instead of ramming the Berith, it dove over the top, rolling the ship with its movement. Trevn stared in awe as its full body curled out of the ocean. Slimy and scaled like a giant fish, yet its back end was made of five tentacles. The first tentacle grabbed hold of the Berith’s bow. The second coiled around the mast. But the other three tentacles inadvertently lashed out at the Seffynaw.
One struck the hull below the waterline, jolting the entire ship. Another raked the freeboard, tearing a jagged line through the bulkhead of the main foredeck. When it reached the open waist, it got caught in the platform of rope harpings. This triggered the beast to pull away, which ripped the harpings off the entire front of the starboard side. Its third tentacle shot up to help, scraping along the main deck and knocking onlookers into the water like a giant hand wiping crumbs from a table. People screamed. The Seffynaw lurched to starboard under the serpent’s weight. The creature was still occupied with its attack on the Berith and seemed only mildly annoyed that one of its tentacles was caught.
“Cut the harpings!” Captain Livina screamed.
Trevn sprinted toward the steps and pushed his way through the crowd, pulling his boot knife as he went. He arrived at the same time as Nietz, Bonds, Zaki, and a half dozen men he recognized from the Port Watch. He sawed at one of the harpings that had pinched itself into the slimy flesh of the serpent’s tentacle. His blade suddenly seemed quite small when set against the task of cutting so many ropes.
“We need swords!” Bonds yelled.
“You need only cut the ropes around the tentacle,” Nietz said firmly. “One by one, men, and keep your heads.”
The Seffynaw had already begun to twist in the water, caught as they were with the creature in light of their previous momentum. Captain Livina shouted orders at the men in the rigging to change the sails to compensate.
There must have been two hundred ropes tangled around that tentacle, and the beast shook the Seffynaw a few more times as it tried to pull away. Trevn sawed ropes until his hand felt numb, then all of a sudden the ship jolted upright and the tentacle slithered away.
The men cheered. Someone clapped Trevn on the back. The Seffynaw glided slowly onward. And Trevn looked over the broken rail at the people in the water.
“Lower a dinghy!” he yelled, shoving his way through the crowd back to the quarterdeck. The main boat fall was at the forecastle, but there was a lesser-used one at the stern. Trevn ran up to the quarterdeck and all the way to the stern. Dozens of people came along, nearly trampling one another in their attempt to keep the wreckage of the Berith in sight.
Trevn found Captain Livina at the stern rail, watching a dinghy row to pick up survivors. There were two soldiers in the craft and they had already rescued three people. But a second serpent had arrived and was picking off swimmers. Each time the creature struck, several women around Trevn screamed. He felt helpless to do anything but pray that Arman would spare as many as possible.
He and Livina stood together, looking back on the carnage and the sinking Berith, which was now difficult to see since the Rafayah had followed the Seffynaw around it. The last Trevn saw before the Berith sank beneath the water was a serpent swallowing a man who’d been swimming toward a broken yard.
The Idez, which trailed the Rafayah, fired upon the first serpent. The creature turned away from the scattered swimmers and rammed a hole into the ship’s side. The Idez’s mast heeled critically to starboard.
“Can the Idez recover?” Trevn asked the captain.
“It could, but only if they stop attacking. Not every captain knows better than to engage a sea serpent. Opening fire might seem like the right thing to do, but it’s usually a fatal move. I am thankful Sâr Wilek backed up my order.”
“Are serpents impossible to kill?” Trevn asked.
“Not impossible. But you see how one took down a ship, attacked a second, and doesn’t look all that wounded. If we let them, the pair will do much more damage to the fleet before they die. I will have the signalmen send a message through the flags to warn the other captains not to attack.”
“We will need to find a new warship to sail before us,” Trevn said, thinking back on his lesson with the admiral.
“Hopefully not a galley,” the captain said. “Oar piercings are a hazard so far from the coast. Did you see why?”
“They let in water and the freeboard went under,” Trevn said. “Closer to land the men could probably swim to shore, and if the ship doesn’t sink too quickly, there might be time to beach it for repairs.”
“But not out in the deep,” the captain said, finishing Trevn’s thought. “Let us hope the admiral chooses a sailing ship to lead us from now on, and that this is the last we will see of any serpents.”
“Did the Duke of Tal find you, Captain?” Trevn asked, remembering the admiral’s arrest.
“He said Sâr Wilek wished to speak with me, but the lookouts spotted the serpents before I could report. Is something wrong?”
“Admiral Vendal has been relieved of his duties,” Trevn said. “I believe you are about to be promoted.”