Chapter 14: Fallen Angels

As the days passed, blended, and lingered, Shala da–Masetth found that her thoughts and prayers dwelt only upon Cassie and Kadu. Their faces were constantly before her eyes, so vivid she could almost reach out and touch them, regardless of the fact that they were now and forever so very, very far away.

She felt so guilty that she had survived and avoided capture, and even guiltier at the relief she felt that she was not with them – wherever they were now. Her family was gone too, and that was another compounding grief, one that was all–encompassing. Maam and Pa would never again be there to support and comfort her. Cassie’s spirit of encouraging optimism was difficult to hold onto when she wasn’t there to maintain it. Kadu’s silent but warm company was sorely missed in the cold underbelly of the ship.

This was true solitude.

Shala sat in her hammock in the Aures’ main hold, dangling her toes towards the floor apathetically as the irregular rise and fall of the ship swayed her back and forth. Barely nine days had passed since the massacre on the docks at Rethjak, and there had been only rain for the past three. Percival da–Luthrien, their unofficial leader, was taking them somewhere south – somewhere far from Elfland. He had already sworn before the mismatched, impromptu crew that he would never again return to the nation so long as Yammar or any other da–Venthox governed there. It was hatred that fueled him now – hatred over the murder of his three brothers, and outrage over the state to which Elfland had sunk.

The other brother, Rejah, grieved alone. Unlike Percy, he internalized, remaining belowdecks with Shala, but with his back to her, far away in a corner where her grief could not touch his. A large part of her wanted to be close to someone, to be intimate for the purpose of comfort, but the other half made her like Percy – stronger alone than in company. She could have been strong with Cassie and Kadu next to her. Their strength would have bolstered hers, just as always. But of course, if they’d been beside her, there would have been no reason for her to embark on the rescue mission in the first place and she would be safely back in Masetth even now, rebuilding the community alongside her neighbors.

Her eyes blurred with familiar tears, and she made no effort to stop them from falling. Maam would have taken Shala’s head in her lap and stroked her daughter’s hair until she drifted off to sleep, where the fear could no longer touch her. Pa would still have taken her up in his strong arms and sung lullabies in old Elvish, despite the fact that she was almost as tall as he was and entering her eighth year of lessons.

But never again. Miserably, Shala swiped the back of an unsteady hand across her eyes. Overhead, thunder rumbled. And then –

thump

Distracted, she lifted her bloodshot eyes to the low ceiling, tuning her ears to the constant hiss of rain on the deck above. Now that she was paying attention, she could also hear the raised voices speaking in vehement Elvish, but the speakers were too far away for her to make out what they were saying.

Immediately, she slid from the hammock to the floor and hurried for the ladder. She threw open the hatch at the top and climbed out onto the main deck, shivering as the fine rain dampened her dress immediately. As she carefully got to her feet, she beheld the ring of twenty or more elves standing in the shadow of the poop, before the entrance to the captain’s quarters, and her heart went into her throat. Percival stood in the center of the ring, screaming unintelligibly at the elf sprawled on the deck at his feet. The murmuring circle of crewmen seemed unsure of whom to second, and they shifted nervously as the rain drenched them and the deck quaked with the sea.

Shala felt a hand fall suddenly on her shoulder and jumped. She turned to look up at Rejah, and he pressed his lips together in what might have been an attempt at a smile. His face was gaunt and unhealthy, but the rain pasting his hair to his forehead seemed to revitalize him. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and then led her towards the crew.

Crossing the deck was treacherous. The caniswuud planks were slick with rain and the sea was distraught, slanting the Aures port to starboard and back again. Fortunately, nine days of seafaring had given Shala sturdy sea legs to support her, and Rejah’s hand on her back was stabilizing.

“…there is nothing left for us there, do you understand?!” Percy was screaming as they drew close enough to join the crew. The veins in his neck and face were vivid blue, standing out tightly against his flushed skin. “Going back is idiotic, Aspen! Unless you want to spend the rest of your days in da–Venthox’s dungeon, scrubbing his marble by day and hanging on a wall at night!!”

The elf at his feet, Aspen, got his elbows beneath him and struggled to rise. “What are we going to do out here, Percy?” he demanded, swiping at the blood streaming from his nose. Overhead, lightning split the sky, brilliantly illuminating the scene for no more than a heartbeat. “You’ve given us no destination, no apparent course heading. We’re not just going to wander the seas with you aimlessly looking for gods know what. Ummen’s dead, Percy – you’re not going to bring him back this way!”

Percy released a strangled sound of rage and lunged for Aspen. Rejah grabbed Shala’s shoulders and pulled her out of the way, and the ring of elves quickly separated to avoid the tussle. The two elves slid past them on the rain–slicked wood, a tangle of swinging limbs and bitter curses.

Percy was bigger and clearly had the advantage of muscle, but Aspen was agile and stronger than he appeared. Their roll took them fifteen or more feet out onto the deck, away from the others, and Percy ended up on top, howling as he rose up to deliver a crushing fist to Aspen’s jaw. The smaller elf turned his head slightly so that the punch didn’t land solidly, and then used his legs to hurl the overbalanced Percy over his head. The bigger elf crashed to the deck on one shoulder, sprawling on his back. Aspen was already getting to his knees in pursuit, flopping on top of Percy and using the full weight of his body to pin the larger elf there. Clearly winded, Percy could not immediately react, and a moment later was beating frantically against Aspen’s arms as the smaller elf straddled him and wrapped nimble fingers around his throat.

Shala hadn’t felt Rejah leave her side, but suddenly he was standing over the two combatants and hauling Aspen to his feet by the smaller elf’s tunic. “Enough,” he said, giving Aspen a firm shove away from Percy.

The small elf stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. He staggered back into the crowd, turning to face Percy as Rejah helped him rise. “I don’t give a damn about your grief,” he shouted raggedly, gasping for breath. “I do give a damn about the children who are now enslaved in the north. Ummen would have wanted us to complete the mission, Percy. He wouldn’t have wanted us to run away like cowards.”

Percy struggled against Rejah, but the older brother was stronger. “You know nothing of my brother!” he shouted hoarsely at Aspen, still fighting to be free. “Ummen would not have us throw our lives away for a meaningless cause. Those children are dead, fool!”

Aspen spat blood and rain onto the deck. “How can you claim such a thing? We don’t know that for certain! That is why we must go back and complete the mission. If there’s even a small chance that they’re still alive, we need to take it. Who’s with me?”

He turned to the crowd, raising his hand in the air. “Who wants to go back?”

The elves murmured, looking at one another uncomfortably. Rain continued to drum the deck, soaking them all.

“This is not a democracy,” Percy snarled past Rejah’s shoulder. “I’m the one in charge.”

“Who’s with me?” Aspen demanded again, ignoring the other elf. “The children need us. Their lives are our responsibility.”

Hands went up hesitantly, eight or nine perhaps, but Shala couldn’t count them fast enough before they went back down. Aspen seemed to deflate. Clearly Percy was the favored leader, whether because of his charisma or his relation to Ummen, she wasn’t sure.

She spoke without realizing it. “Please, we have to go back.”

All heads turned to her, the youngest individual onboard the Aures. The attention was uncomfortable, but she was somehow speaking without conscious effort. Fearfully, she found Percy’s incredulous gaze and held it, blinking rain from her eyes.

“Aspen’s right – we have to help them.”

Percy mouthed wordlessly, and then – as his eyes hardened – she knew the request had already been denied, before he even spoke. “No,” he said flatly, finally escaping Rejah’s grasp. He would not meet her eyes. “We’re not going back. I’m sorry – I wish there was something we could do, but we can’t.”

“Why not?” Aspen demanded, looking ready to fight again.

“Because there’s no way in hell we would succeed!” Percy roared, rounding on him but holding his ground. “If we somehow managed to navigate the fog and shoals, it would take weeks across the mainland to find them. And if we were discovered, we’d either be slaughtered or taken captive ourselves. That’s not being heroic. It’s being stupid. There’s nothing we can do.”

“It’s a risk we have to take,” Aspen countered angrily, advancing a step. “Our lives don’t matter, Percy – the children’s do.”

Percy turned away to look at the iron grey seas to the west, the direction of the Mansin continent. “My decision is final. The Aures is my ship. We’re not going back.”

“But…” Shala gasped, crying now. Cassie, Kadu… I’m trying… “We have to.”

Percy didn’t acknowledge her. He planted his powerful fists against the railing, staring down into the churning sea. There was clearly grief in his stance, for Ummen and his home, and also for the children whom he had condemned to death. Yet that didn’t mean his decision was fair or justified by any means – it was wrong and he knew it. But he clearly wasn’t going to listen to reason because he valued his right to self–pity greater than any sense of nobility in which he might have once believed. Ummen would have been disgusted, and maybe Percy knew that too.

Shala choked down a sob, trying to squelch the painful guilt rising up in her chest, hating the fact that she was so powerless and incapable of helping anyone.

Without warning, Aspen lunged, darting around Rejah before the taller elf could react –

– and what came next happened so fast that none of them saw it coming. Percy heard the charge and turned in time to catch Aspen in the stomach with a solid punch –

– and the smaller elf vomited blood into Percy’s face. The crew gasped collectively as Aspen went limp, sinking slowly to his knees, grasping Percy’s rain–slicked forearm for support until the strength in his arms gave out. The dagger in Percy’s hand came free, slick with crimson, and Aspen slumped onto his side on the deck, gurgling in his throat.

Shala couldn’t breathe and the ship was suddenly spinning around her. Rejah’s eyes were hard and blank, fixated on the body at his feet. Raindrops rippled the crimson puddle spreading sickeningly on the planks.

Percival da–Luthrien emotionlessly faced his shocked crew as the rain washed Aspen’s blood from his face. Behind him, lightning stretched from the clouds to touch the sea. “Throw him overboard,” he ordered flatly, and there was no remorse in his eyes for the deed he had just committed. “We’re not going back.”

They left the storm behind two days later, and after six more days of clear sailing, the Aures glided smoothly into the harbor city of Edda, located sixteen miles from Mansin’s inland capital city of Bath.

Standing on the starboard bow, Shala leaned on the railing, excited for the first time in weeks, watching the wharf as the Aures slid into the empty moorings. Edda’s blue–shingled rooftops were a vast peninsula, stretching beyond what the eye could see, broken only by mottled patches of lush trees and thick billows of smoke, rising from blacksmiths and refineries of all shapes and sizes. The wharves were full of people – elves, men, and foreign races Shala couldn’t recognize – all moving, never stopping. Clouds of harbor gulls circled overhead, heralding the Aures’ entry with unruly squawks, diving to the crowds below to snatch trampled scraps of food from the docks.

Beneath a brilliant noonday sun, they squeaked to a halt against the pylons and the crew rapidly threw in the lines to secure the Aures fast. The wharf crews pulled the schooner in snugly as the sailors on the Aures lowered the gangplank and began disembarking from the vessel.

Everything moved quickly: it seemed nothing was standing still except for her. Part of her excitement was fearful, because this unknown place was completely foreign to her. Never before in her thirteen summers had she left South Elfland, and now she had not only done that but was also entering into the world of Men, so different from yet so similar to her own. The other part was pure intrigue, because she had always possessed an uncommon curiosity for things of wonder, much like Kadu and Cassie. Their adventures in the forests of Elfland had always been as exciting as their forays into the vast library at Kadu’s house.

Shala heard the footsteps behind her, thought it would be Rejah, and turned to face him. She knew a handful of the other elves’ names, but Rejah was the only one who paid her any attention. Over the last week of sailing, she’d spent essentially all her time with him, be it belowdecks peeling potatoes for supper or climbing to the crow’s nest after dark to keep the night watch. He still said next to nothing, but seemed pleased to have her playing the part of his shadow.

A powerful fear tightened her throat as she beheld not Rejah, but the other da–Luthrien, the self–appointed Captain Percival, and she involuntarily took a step back.

The crew had been decidedly on edge since the public murder of Aspen and none had dared oppose Percy’s orders. His word had become law, and when he had finally announced that they were changing course to head west for Mansin, relief had become immediately tangible throughout the crew of twenty–seven. Shala wasn’t sure if any of them hoped to disappear into Edda and not return to the ship, but she knew for a fact that no one would fight Percy for control of the Aures. There was still a sense of duty and respect amongst the elves that kept them subordinate to him, despite the deed they’d witnessed. As for Shala, she had kept her distance from Percival, never making eye contact, never getting within arm’s distance of the elf who held such blatant disregard for his own kind.

Percy clearly saw the fright she was trying to conceal because what had been a warm smile faded immediately into a grimace. He blew out a weary sigh and closed the distance between them. “I was going to ask if you’d like to come into the city with me,” he began gruffly, putting his fists on the rail, “but I take it from your face that you’ll decline the offer.”

Shala opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, she stared at the deck, fighting tears that felt odd at present, powerless to stop the anger churning in her guts.

“Listen,” Percy said, looking down into the sparkling harbor water. “I know you want to go back. I know you have friends back in Elfland, and I know you feel a responsibility to be there for them. But sometimes you have to take a step back in order to help people. Do you understand?”

She’d been about to succumb to her anger and shout at him, but suddenly she was confused. “No.”

He lifted his gaze to the sprawl of activity before them, letting his liquid blue eyes follow faces in the crowd below. “Right now we have to look out for ourselves. One day, not tomorrow but maybe the day after that, we’ll be ready to go back. Strength comes through suffering. Does that make sense?”

Shala finally turned to look at him, squeezing her fingers into fists. “You can only grow strong if you’re still alive to endure.”

He turned his head to look sideways at her, narrowing his gaze slightly. The stiff sea breeze ruffled his short hair and the high collar of his sleeveless tunic. “You’re right,” he allowed grimly. “But if you’re dead you also don’t feel pain.”

Shala stamped a foot on the deck, trying desperately not to cry. “You don’t know anything!” she said, and her voice shook with mixed anger and grief.

“You think that now,” he said tersely, “but once you understand more of the world, you’ll come to realize that my decision is for the best.”

“For our best,” she returned, bolder now. “You didn’t even think about my friends!”

“Dammitt, I did,” he snapped, turning to face her directly. He was so much taller than her, nearly three full heads, and his anger diminished hers, lending him even more height. “I do. I can’t stop thinking about them, da–Masetth, but there’s nothing I can do. Not right now.”

They glared at one another – both out of guilt, each for different reasons.

Percy looked away, chagrined, working his jaw. The Aures listed gently beneath their feet, crying out against the pylons. “Sometimes you have to do something you’d rather not do in order to move forward. It doesn’t make you less of a person, it just makes you wiser. Aspen couldn’t understand, and I didn’t want to kill him. But I couldn’t just let the crew turn around and throw their lives away for nothing.”

“That makes you the same as Yammar,” Shala hissed as her vision blurred. “He did the same thing to Ummen.”

“I am nothing like Yammar!!” Percival bellowed, drawing stares from the wharf below them as well as from the crew on the main deck. There was pain in his eyes, the kind that even a smile can’t chase away. “Yammar is a goddamned liar and a murderer who acts only for his own pride and well–being. He murdered my brother to keep us from proving him wrong. I didn’t kill Aspen to gain anything!”

“You wanted to stay captain!” Shala returned.

“I –” He stopped abruptly and swiped a tattooed hand across his mouth, shaking his head. “I want nothing, da–Masetth. I want to forget. That’s what I want. I don’t want to be anywhere near Elfland. The Aures is my home now.”

Shala ground her teeth. “It’s mine now too – and Rejah’s, and the others. You can’t just assume that we want what you want!”

“My crew,” he returned heatedly. “My orders. In case you didn’t notice, child, they sided with me against Aspen. None of them want to go back either. That’s why we’re here, and that’s why we’ll keep sailing south. If you don’t like it, you can get off here and stow away on the next boat headed to Elfland.”

Before Shala could respond there were more footsteps behind her, and Percy lifted his eyes to behold the newcomer.

“Ship’s fully docked,” Rejah’s voice said, turning Shala around to look at him. He was standing close to her, fists on his hips, silver–blonde hair raked away from his impressive forehead. “We’re wasting time. I’ll take Shai with me.”

Percy nodded once and stepped around Shala, as though she wasn’t there. He continued speaking over his shoulder to Rejah as he headed for the gangplank but didn’t actually look back at them. “Restock our perishables, brother. I’m going to see about bringing on more hands and inquire about work in the area.”

“Aye,” Rejah said submissively, but he was looking at the deck. Once Percy had descended from the Aures to join the crew on the wharf, Rejah licked his lips to wet them and raised his eyes to look at Shala.

She tried to smile at him but couldn’t. The strength in her body seemed to have failed. The excitement she’d initially felt at beholding Edda had become fuel for her anger, now burned away to nothing.

“My brother is the captain,” Rejah said abruptly, surprising her. “We must follow his orders.”

Shala frowned. “But he’s wrong.”

Rejah appeared uncomfortable with the topic, but continued nonetheless. This was the most she’d ever heard him speak and it was the first time he’d addressed her directly. “Authority is never infallible, but it’s always in place for a reason.”

She bit her lower lip, dropping her gaze to his boots. His logic was easy to follow but it didn’t make sense. To her, if an authority was wrong, they should be made to see reason. Percy was certainly too hardheaded to be reached via polite confrontation, and because of that he should be deposed as the leader. However, this notion conflicted with her entire social upbringing, the one which Rejah was supporting – that the nobility were to be respected, even in fault. It was the way of the caste system. Complaints muttered under the commoner’s breath were to never ever to reach other ears.

“You should let them go.”

Her head came up sharply at Rejah’s words, mouth open. Them? Cassie and Kadu? Maam and pa? Their memories were still fresh and dear to her heart, the only thing left inside her worth keeping. Without them, she would be completely alone with her fears and hate.

His voice was gentle as he continued speaking, but it was also firm. “Grieve if you want, Shai, but no amount of wishful thinking is going to bring them back. It’s time to look at tomorrow.” He forced a flat smile, a physical subject change. “Come on. I need help in the market.”

Rooted to the spot, she watched him turn and walk away, headed towards the gangplank. She swayed slightly and almost fell, but it seemed as though someone behind her placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, keeping her upright. But of course no one was there: the entire crew had disembarked from the Aures and disappeared into the crowds on Edda’s wharves.

Her vision blurred, but she found herself smiling. Rejah was right. She was keeping her family and friends chained to this world. They could never pass into eternal sleep if she would not let them go. It was indeed time to think about tomorrow, time to change, and time to grow. She was strong and she would make them all proud: Maam, Pa, Cassie, and Kadu.

She took her first step towards the gangplank. Rejah was waiting on the dock below.

To Shala, that was the moment that her parents, Cassandra, and Kadu da–Masetth truly passed from life into death, forever departing the world they’d known and moving on to the next. She left their spirits behind her on the starboard bow of the Aures, where they could accompany the figurehead and relish the ocean breeze on their faces whenever Percy decided to put the ship back out to sea.