XIV. Curse

The cry of gulls circling overhead stirred Vance from his long slumber as the tiny vessel rose and fell on the swells. His lips were cracked and bleeding and the skin on his face was already beginning to peel. He shakily pulled himself up to a sitting position. He felt a searing pain in his chest and his throbbing head preempted any thoughts about where he was or how he got there. Before him were the sunbaked and half-eaten remains of the Xanavien he had killed. A small flock of curious looking birds with arm like wings and the bodies of a small goat upon massive taloned feet jostled about before him.

“What in Dawn’s Light…?” he rasped as he propped himself up to get a better look.

One of the creatures turned to him, revealing a horse like head and reptilian eyes. The creature blinked once, its lid shuttering vertically over its slit like yellow eyes. Vance lurched back in shock, clumsily making the sign of The Dawn on his chest. The creature brayed once like an ass and took flight, causing the others to do so as well with a flurry of gaudy feathers and dung pellets. He watched as the strange creatures flew off into the distance, and wondered how long he had been at sea, and if he were truly awake at all. He gingerly touched his burnt and tender face. An incredible thirst struck him as his pained groan came out as a coarse rasp. The summer sun overhead was bright and unrelenting, with the craft offering very little to no shade. After several moments of fumbling at his belt, he managed to free his canteen and took a long draw of the refreshingly cold liquid. It was only as he drained the last of it that the thought of rationing crossed his mind.

The gull song and gently churning sea were the only sounds for what felt like an eternity. His mind spun as it tried to gain traction and complete two simple tasks, find water and determine where he was. His body was heavy and he feared that even the thought of standing would cause his stomach to disgorge the precious water he had glutted himself on moments before. He swatted instinctually at the sound of buzzing flies in his ear. It took several moments for the significance of the sound to register truly.

He scrambled to his feet and nearly toppled overboard, clinging to the rail as the spinning in his head slowed. Dragging himself across the narrow deck, he tried to recall all he had heard about the curse that lay upon The Sorrow. He dropped to the deck and low-crawled towards a hatch that appeared to serve as the cabin. The buzzing signified the arrival of the beast, they would drink the blood of all men on board a vessel and if none were of Aes Sidhe, the beast would rise up and smite the vessel with fire. He flung open the hatch and was dismayed to find it no more than a cramped storage space. As far as he could tell, he had not been stung yet, but the buzzing continued around him.

He shielded his eyes from the glare with his hand and scanned the sea. The waters were relatively calm with minimal chop; in the distance, a pod of dolphins breached and expended their spent breaths. Overhead, a gull cried and several others landed to finish the feast the previous creatures had abandoned.

He relaxed, as the corpse of the Xanavien was also the source of the insects. If he was remembering correctly, the rear of the vessel was called astern, which is where the sun appeared to be slowly descending. Given that the astern was west, he slowly turned around towards port and pointed straight ahead, he was now facing north.

Assuming he had not drifted too far, he should only be a day or two from Sorn. At worst, he could be close to a week away from Aes Sidhe. He took a seat on the edge of the hatch and idly kicked around at the junk therein. The foresail hung limply and fluttered in the weak breeze, the aft sail was still bound and useless. The people of Duvachellé weren’t as nautically inclined as the people of Aes Sidhe or the island dwelling folk of Lyresia, his own sailing knowledge was limited to pleasure cruises on a lake every now and again during the summer. Even so, it had been years since he had sailed, his elder brothers had done most of the actual sailing. Even if he did manage to tie down the sails, there was no guarantee that he would be able to keep in a straight line. Not to mention the curse, the longer he was out on these waters, the greater the risk that he would meet a fiery end before sinking beneath the waves.

The gulls continued to pick at the dead soldier’s face, fighting amongst each other for prime cuts. He peeled at his burnt skin and wondered if the previous creatures were just some sort of fever dream, they certainly were unlike anything he had seen or heard of before. He took a deep breath and lowered himself into the hold. If he was to make any sort of progress, he needed to take inventory of his supplies.

They were meager offerings at best. A small magical ice chest held a loaf of bread and wedge of blue cheese, a cask of half-empty wine rolled about unsecured, a blanket that smelled of mildew and a small first aid kit. He opened the kit and found a roll of bandages and two ancient vials of Dawn Water. The glow was faint, and he doubted they would still work, but he shook them up anyway and pulled the stopper on one. The fragrant smell of lemon and cilantro emanated from the vial, and he splashed the healing liquid on his face. The burns he had received from the sun ceased to sting almost instantly, and he spent the next several moments peeling the dead skin from his face. Once that tedious task was done, he splashed the second vial onto the wound on his chest, though it did little to abate the soreness and stiffness he felt.

As the sun continued its descent into the horizon, he set about getting the vessel pointed in the right direction. After nearly an hour of trial and error, he managed to unfurl the sails and get them tied down sufficiently. The sails hung limply in the weak breeze, and the ship had been carried further east by the currents. He doffed his chainmail hauberk and attempted to tack the vessel back on course. By the time the sky was ablaze with pink, orange and violet hues, he had the vessel pointed as north as he was going to manage. The sails fluttered to life in the occasional stiff breeze, but it was unlikely he would be going anywhere any time soon.

The gulls had long since left, leaving the bloodied skull of the Xanavien picked clean. Vance performed the last rites on the remains and searched the body for useful supplies. He found a half-empty canteen and another vial of Dawn Water. He pocketed both. Though meant to heal, the vial was still water after all; he just hoped his situation would not be so dire as to resort to that.

He sang the few bars of the funeral chant that he knew from memory and tossed the body over the gunwale. With all the tasks completed, he took a sip of the lukewarm water and wrapped himself in the musty blanket. Overhead the moons had already risen and the first stars twinkled into existence.

As he dozed off beneath the rapidly darkening sky, his thoughts turned to the events at the Temple. The man he had just buried at sea wore both beads and a pendant of The Dawn. While there were some in the world that resented the ubiquity of The Order of Dawn, Xanavene was not one of those countries. As far as he knew, they were almost as deeply religious as Catharone. There was no reason for them to wish to harm the Priestess, unless of course they did not intend to harm her. It was possible they wanted to capture her for some convoluted power play; at least, that was the best-case scenario.

He turned onto his side and tried to drown out his thoughts by focusing on the sound of the waves. Elysia had fallen and the Priestess was either dead or a hostage. The fate of the rest of the continent was unknown, but he could not imagine that it fared much better. When he made land, he would have to make the long journey north to Marquez. Assuming Sorn had not yet fallen and he could get a horse.

The sound of playful splashing behind him roused him from his light slumber, and the distinct sound of a woman giggling caused him to shoot up and grab his sword. The splashes abruptly changed direction, coming from the bow this time. He scrambled towards the sounds and leaned over the gunwale, straining his eyes and ears for a possible threat. A golden shine danced across the water’s surface all around him signaling moonrise. He peered vainly into the depths, but was met with only the occasional spray of seawater and little else. A pelican dove into the water nearby and surfaced with a beak full of fish and water. Vance sighed and rubbed his eyes, attributing his aural hallucinations to fatigue, he slowly trudged back to his sleeping place. He nearly overlooked the nude woman that clung to the rail, smiling at him.

He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes, muttering a prayer in hopes that the Dawn would spare him from the madness he now suffered from. When he opened his eyes, the woman remained, watching him curiously.

Her skin was pale, and her raven black hair hung well past her waists, and shimmered in the fading light. Her eyes were dark and almond shaped in the manner of the Lyresian people. Unable to ignore this new guest any longer, Vance slowly inched his way towards the woman, his hand upon his sword. Though he was not sure how he would be able to wield the blade with one hand in such a confined space, he did not feel as if he had any other options. If this woman was the physical manifestation of the curse, he was dead. If she was some convoluted Xanavien trap, he was equally dead.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

The woman giggled and tossed her hair. “That’s a bit rude isn’t it sir knight?”

Vance offered a half smile, though kept his hand on his sword. “If you’ll excuse me for saying, the fact that you are a naked woman hanging to the side of my vessel in the middle of a cursed sea warrants the question. I ask again, who are you?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” She tossed her considerable hair and tapped her chin in feigned thought. “You may call me… Ningyo.”

“Are you a mermaid?”

The woman looked repulsed, as if he’d asked something untoward. “Heavens no, I am ningyo.”

Vance glanced over the side of the vessel. Her upper torso was that of a woman, but gradually blended into the tail of a koi fish at her hips. Her hair spilled out onto the surface of the water around her, like an oil slick, and was likely as long if not longer than she was.

“I don’t understand; did you not say that your name was Ningyo? How can it also be your race?”

The woman laughed. “I said you may call me Ningyo, I did not say that it was my name.”

Ningyo dove backwards into the water and surfaced again. She did a leisurely backstroke to stay abreast of the vessel. Her torso was lithe and sinewy like a swimmer, but still inviting and pleasing to the eyes. Vance cleared his throat and attempted to tear his eyes away from her supple breasts, pausing on the fish half of her. Between her pelvic fins was what he quickly recognized as a vaginal opening much like any other human females. She giggled and splashed him with her tail as his gaze lingered perhaps a bit too long.

“Would you like to swim?” she asked with seductive lilt.

He looked down at his coat of plates and iron greaves, then back to the fish woman. “I am afraid I’ll have to decline.”

She removed several locks of hair from over her bosom. “Are you certain? If you are afraid of drowning, I could keep you afloat.”

Vance closed his eyes and took a deep breath. While she was obviously trying to seduce him and he could not afford to fall for such a simple ruse. He attempted to dispel his impure thoughts by reminding himself she was half fish, but continued to see the opening between her lower fins. He opened his eyes to see her staring intently at him. She suggestively licked her lips, as if fully aware of his misgivings. With a muttered prayer for strength, he shook his head.

“I cannot afford the diversion my lady, my apologies.”

She pouted, but quickly lost interest and propelled herself forward. “A pity.”

“Hold! Please, don’t go just yet!”

Ningyo allowed herself to drift back on the waves. “Have you had a change of heart?”

Vance blushed and scratched his head. “No, I had a few questions, if you are willing to answer them.”

She shrugged and swam in a lazy figure eight.

“Where have you come from?” Vance persisted.

“Off the coast of Nagatoro province on the island of Yuudai.” She stated proudly.

Vance gave her a quizzical look, which caused her to pause and return to the gunwale.

“How did you end up in the Sorrow?” Vance asked as she grabbed onto the railing once more.

Ningyo tilted her head in confusion and laughed. “The Sorrow? I am not sorrowful, are you?”

“No,” Vance shook his head and pointed down to the water, “that’s the name of this sea, The Sea of Sorrow.”

She giggled. “That’s not a very creative name, and not a place I have ever heard of. Tell me, where is this ‘Sorrow’?”

Now it was Vance’s turn to be confused. “Off the coast of Aes Sidhe and Elysia, how did you arrive here if you do not know where here is?”

“And the year?” she asked, ignoring his previous question.

“It is sometime near the end of Nightsun, year two thousand three-hundred and twelve after the collapse.” He paused. “Why? Do your people not use calendars? I suppose it would be awkward to keep a calendar when one’s life is spent in the water…”

“I was gone for longer than I thought….” She slipped back into the water. “Which way is the Lyresian archipelago?”

Vance smiled skeptically, uncertain if this were a hallucination or she was just fucking with him. “To the south west, but you are months away, and with no vessel I do not see how you will make it.”

She smiled and slapped her tail against the water. “I last forever and you might have too much or too little of me, either way you will run out of me eventually. What am I?”

“Riddles?” he asked dubiously. “That one is simple; you are time, though how that pertains to the topic at hand eludes me.”

“I am quicker than you assume, though your concern is noted.” She winked and lazily gestured off into the horizon. “Keep traveling in this direction, you should reach a shore by mid-day tomorrow.”

“Oh, well thank you.”

Ningyo licked her lips as she twirled her hair about her finger. “Don’t mention it, unless…”

“Yes…?” he asked hesitantly.

“If you join me for a swim, we can call it even.”

He returned her smile. “I am afraid I must decline your generous offer…”

“Oh well.” She sighed.

“Why do you so steadfastly wish for me to swim with you?” Vance blurted, curiosity getting the better of him.

She grinned and swam closer to the hull. “So that I may drown you whilst in the throes of ecstasy.”

He chuckled nervously, unsure if it was merely a jest or not. “Are you the curse?”

She laughed aloud. “It depends on the man you ask.”

Nignyo abruptly launched herself backwards into the sea and vanished beneath the waves. The sun had long since set, though a golden glow from Aurum still danced atop the water. Vance adjusted his trousers and lay back on the deck, lamenting his decision to refuse her invitations to swim.