Husai

Southern Sea

Husai watched the sweeping waves. The ever-dark waters of the Great Sea stretched to the northern horizon. Husai heard that a gigantic island lay beyond. Halim swore he’d seen it. An island that runs in all directions without end. A silly idea. Why would a god of depths allow it? How could people eat when there was no fish? Husai shuddered at a thought, he remembered difficult times when a number of hammerfish had plummeted and Husai had to leave Daio island and travel to Ubai island. Ubai island brought a wave of unwanted memories. Husai swore, then made signs of peace. Bad times those were.

Husai reached for a submerged branch, lone amongst thousands of tiny black pebbles that composed the beach. It was devoided of life like the rest of Sinao island, Husai’s current home. Husai stood on the beach, his hardened naked feet stepping on sleek, wet pebbles. The branch was made of wood Husai had never seen. Sinao island had no trees, only occasional patches of dead shrubs. This place was as hostile to life as rocks can be. He fished the wood out of the pebbles, it was as long as he was tall. Not long at all, mere five feet. Though, thick as his arm. Once dried out it’d provide the fire for hours. Wood was valued in Jaio country where only southern isles had trees. These were sacred and cutting them down would bring the wrath of Jaio demi-gods. A folly to do so, Husai thought. He regarded the branch with a smile entrenching on his face. He could trade it away. He could… something flickered on the horizon. His eyes went up, but not a single ray of sun could penetrate a boiling mass of clouds. Involuntarily his hands tightened on the branch, squeezing streams of water between his fingers.

The flickering oddity grew and with it grew a white sail. It was a ship. Husai didn’t remember a ship ever coming from the north. Halim could speak his foolish stories, but Husai knew better. Nothing existed beyond the Great Sea. It had to be a lost soul of someone who had wronged the god of depths or his demi-gods, a desperate thought appeared in Husai’s mind. Shaken, Husai began praying to Jaio demi-gods for clarity of mind. O, Greatest of Depths, forgive the lost…

It suddenly became more than Husai could handle. He dropped the wood, turning his back on the Great Sea. Coming here was a mistake. He acted on an impulse when Halim warned that the farthest to the north beach was cursed. Anything taken from it’d call forth the wrath of their god.

Husai hadn’t believed in a single word uttered by Halim, but he no longer felt good with his ignorance. He started walking toward a passage between large black rocks. Torrents of remorse and regrets pressed their way through Husai’s mind. As he reached the pass, he turned to get the last look at the unnatural sign. A horror froze his heart. The ship was upon the shore. It was smaller than he’d imagined, it had only one mast and the flickering oddity turned out to be a huge roaring fire at the front of the ship. But … it … could … not … travel … that … fast. He made a clumsy Sign of Peace with a trembling hand, then turned to the pass. Only then he realized he wasn’t alone. A lone man. A man? A giant of a man! Twice as tall as Husai, he stood on the rough rock ridge above the pass. Husai opened his mouth but it only made a whimpering sound. His suddenly tight throat wouldn’t allow any other sounds at the very moment. Husai feet stopped, anchored in the ground by a petrifying fear. Was this the god of depths himself? Was Husai dead and his god came to claim his soul? These were dangerous thoughts made by an unworthy subject. Though only spoken in his mind, they were blasphemous.

Husai dropped to his knees, praying for forgiveness, this time for himself. He kept his head low, eyes closed, waiting for the final judgment.

“Get up, fool,” a deep, rich voice came from above. “I have little patience for folly.”

Husai twitched and with a great strain stood up. He didn’t open his eyes. Was it some kind of test? He questioned himself. Turkai people tested resolve, but Turkai abandoned the Sign of Peace, and Jaio demi-gods altogether.

“He’s a dimwit, master,” a cold, fluid voice made Husai’s body ripple with a shock and left him with a misplaced sorrow. “We’ll find our way there.”

A silence stretched so far that Husai came to believe that they left him. Then the rich voice sounded once more.

“Dimwit or not, the fisherman knows the ways of these isles. I sense their magic, though it’s barely a whisper. They’re farther to the south. If we aren’t careful they’ll spot us too early.”

“I hate Efins’ traps,” the cold voice left Husai shaken this time, filling him with unfounded rage.

The unexpected emotion fueled up his curiosity and he opened his eyes.

“You, fisherman,” the cold voice grabbed Husai’s heart and twisted it until Husai found himself sobbing, “tell us about Efins.”

Husai nodded, wishing only to serve, wishing to divulge every scrap of knowledge about Efins to these… gods. But Husai realized with terror that he didn’t know what Efins were. He couldn’t be of use. He was unable to serve.

“I don’t know what Efins are.”

Husai was lying in rolled up on the ground, his eyes were swollen from crying when it came to him that no punishment descended on him. Upon closer inspection, he found no emotions in him. He felt empty.

Not a sound announced the giant. With a startling grace, he came down the rocks and beckoned Husai to get up once more. He wore a plain, gray cloak with a deep hood hiding his face.

He didn’t need fancy clothes. The air around the giant permeated with the aura of command coming from him. Empty inside, Husai still wished to serve with utmost devotion. He just wished that the giant asked of him an easier task.

“They have many names in many places, and these here are just remnants of their past number. They’d been decimated long before I was born, fisherman,” the giant turned his back to Husai. “If you don’t know them by their true name, then it means they hide behind fake ones because I know they’re here. What lies farthest to the south?”

Husai’s mind had trouble picturing the isles south of his once beloved home, Daio island. Those places were barred to the lowly folks like him. He’d been sent up the north as the sign of falling off the Jaio demi-gods’ grace. Though why was that was beyond him.

“Jaio demi-gods’ home, my lord,” he made a Sign of Peace as he replied obediently.

“This is his sign…” the man, also cloaked but smaller in posture, said. He no longer used the fluid cold voice that left Husai with different emotions.

“Yes. These Efins must be an ancient strain that severed itself at the beginning of the Six Bloodlines.”

“I wasn’t aware that you’re aware of such ancient history, master. Yij Eon and his Philosophy of Peace are less than legends now. Did you know that we’d once captured and deemed him worthy?”

“A mistake this planet’s going to pay for.”

“He’s still hiding,” the man said. “Maybe he’s finally done with this world’s affairs?”

“He’s not,” the giant replied and turned back to Husai. “Show us the way to your demi-gods, fisherman.”

Osali

The dried seagrass beneath Osali’s fingers had a good texture. Osali wished she could afford a dye. It’d go nicely with the shirt she was weaving, adding a touch of life into it. But dyes were hard to come by for the residents of Daio island, usually reserved for the Chosen. From the earliest years, Osali was fascinated by the art of textiles. An art that required to make things out of very little. Seagrass didn’t like being harvested, year after year was found deeper and deeper. Kio didn’t return from his latest harvest, consumed by the wrath of the god of depths. Though many days and nights had passed, Osali didn’t accept the loss. She petitioned the Chosen to gain an audience with Jaio demi-gods. The holy servants of the god of depths were her last hope.

Thoughts of Kio brought fresh streams of tears. She stopped weaving to not ruin the hard-to-come-by batch of the seagrass and wiped her cheeks. The wooden seat she occupied protested, creaking loudly. The wood was worn out and as old as wood could get. Maybe even as old as the black rocks that made up the island. Clouds darkened in the last two hours and light worsened to the point that she started considering a break for the day. Only she couldn’t. It felt wrong to leave it incomplete. I wish Kio was here. Wishing couldn’t make people live again once they departed unless the god of depths decided otherwise. It was rumored that some of the Chosen had their mortal wounds healed by the Jaio demi-gods.

Osali put the yarn and unfinished shirt at her feet. It was getting dark, and if the wind was true then the rain was approaching. Behind her was an entrance to her cave, cut in the ridge by her ancestors. It ran twenty feet deep into the rock. Each generation has been obliged to further carve the cave for at least a foot. Osali, dutifully carved each day, an inch after inch, though she couldn’t see sense in it. She was barren and the last of her family. After she died, the cave would fall into some unknown hands. Why she bothered with it then? She asked herself frequently as she chipped off the rock in the cave.

As she stood up, a figure came out of the northern pass that led to Ubai island and strolled in her direction. From this distance, she couldn’t tell who that could be. Not many people were permitted to return to Daio or Ikala from Ubai and beyond. Three more figures followed the first one, and one of them was a giant! The half-finished shirt in her hands was forgotten. Osali moved closer to better see and with a dreadful feeling, she realized that these people were coming in her direction.

She made the Sign of Peace, offering a silent prayer to the god of depths. What kind of business people from Ubai island could have with her? Not a good kind, this she was sure of. Ubai island was the first of isles that had fallen out of Jaio demi-gods’ good graces. The mysterious group entered the stone bridge that connected Osali’s part of the island with the northern passage.

Their hasty pace told Osali that they might be chased by guards who meant to keep Ubai people away from Daio. Perhaps, this was the reason for their business. They wished to hide. As they started ascending the rocky elevation, Osali recognized the man in the front.

Husai, a fisherman and trouble-maker. He and Kio had been friends but their socializing often ended with both being drunk with the algae sake. She was ready to berate the man for bringing the trouble back on her head when she noticed his pale, shaken face. She got a better look at the figures behind. All of them were hooded, wearing coats from material Osali didn’t recognize.

“Osali,” he spoke as soon as he saw her. “I need a word with Kio.” His voice was urgent, uncharacteristic for Husai.

“Kio’s been taken by the god of depths, Husai,” Osali struggled to keep her voice leveled but she managed it.

“Oh.” It was all he had to say. She didn’t know if she was more furious about his insensate comment or the fact that she was right about him all along.

“How did you pass the guards?”

“Guards? Oh.” His face paled further, his eye glazed up.

“Show us the shortest way to the island occupied by people you know as Jaio demi-gods.”

This man’s voice gave Osali’s chills, wriggling her soul painfully. All she could think of was Kio, his death, and the hole he’d left in her heart.

“Show us the way and we’ll reward you with peace.”

She didn’t know how but she suddenly felt compelled to do as they said. Obtaining a peaceful mind was the very thing she desired right now.

“Leave, fisherman,” the giant said. Husai scampered away with great haste. Osali didn’t ask why he was returning to Ubai island, it didn’t matter. “Move on, weaver.”

The giant’s tone was like a hard-unyielding command. Without a second thought, she started walking toward the Jyali island. The usual tract to Jyali was safe but long. The three strangers insisted on getting through the shortest way. She’d think of one path, a deadly one, especially in this gloom. When she told them this, they didn’t care about safety.

“We should’ve brought Inysao,” one of the smaller strangers said. “He could scout ahead.”

“Who are you?” she blurted after her cave disappeared beyond a ridge. “Your clothes, I don’t recognize the textile.”

Neither of the men replied.

*

Daio and Jyali had two connections. The first one, the official, was a stone bridge. It was patrolled and well-maintained. The second entrance to Jyali was a two hundred yards shoal with many treacherous pits, sharp underwater ridges, and angry waves. Kio had once shown it to her in case she needed to leave Daio unseen.

During the day, Daio was a hardworking and dutiful place, came the night, the landscape changed. They left the main track, entering the wild terrain. Infrequent paths crisscrossed this part of the island and were hardly used at the waters around held no fish.

Given Osali’s age, she still maintained a sliver of agility that saved her twice as she slipped. The three strangers moved with astonishing grace and without a sound.

“Are you sure of this path?”

“Yes. My husband showed me it once. It isn’t well-known.”

“Be sure to not die on us.”

“Yes, I will.”

*

It took them a better part of the night to reach the coastline of Daio island. They encountered several wooden traps designed to catch crabs. Warrior crabs had little culinary value as their meat was inedible. Instead, they were used to fight in small pits. Jaio demi-gods forbade it but this changed nothing. Kio loved crabs fights.

“What’s that sound?” one of the smaller strangers asked.

Osali didn’t hear anything.

“What sound?” she asked.

“Skittering.”

It was Osali’s turn to make an ‘oh’ comment. Her mind was too muddled and she forgot about the most urgent warning her lost husband had given her. The warrior crabs populated this shore in a number that made trespassing deadly for humans.

“We must run!”

She veered toward the slope but an inhumanly strong grip stopped her.

“Lead us to your demi-gods.”

Emotions flooded her with severe intensity.

“Don’t fry her brain, Allog.”

“She’s a resilient mind for a human. I have to burn the fear out of her or she’ll be useless to us.”

“They’re coming after us…” she mumbled, her eyes almost sightlessly stared forward.

“Do what you must,” the giant said.

She fell to her knees, screaming in agony and clawing at her head. Without a warning, her mind emptied and she found her peace. She sighed, waiting obediently.

“It’s done. She’s a puppet now.”

Osali resumed the lead toward the lower part of the coastline. The sounds of approaching crabs found her ears. There were thousands, tens of thousands of crabs. She didn’t care.

The skittering ceased as they neared the water. Not a single crab came close nor a single thought crossed Osali’s mind. She lifted her arm and pointed at the dark outline of another island two hundred yards away across the water.

“Jyali.”

“Is this where your demi-gods live?”

“No. They live beyond this island.”

“This isn’t very helpful.”

“How to get to their island?” Allog asked.

“Once on Jyali, a straight path leads to Jaio demi-gods’ sacred island. It can’t be missed.”

Osali didn’t see or feel a hand that struck her head, killing her in an instant.