41 From Ship to Shore

CHAINS GOUGED FURROWS into Threadfin’s dead flesh. He felt them tighten, as though they reacted to his thoughts. It felt familiar. This had happened before, but this time they weren’t chains at all. Serpents coiled about him, constricting. Their fangs bit deep releasing venom. What was this new horror? How did I get here? he thought, and where is here? All he remembered was falling into nothingness and then snakes of all things. Those barbed chains would’ve been better. He didn’t like snakes. Normal people, even undead ones, never liked snakes.

There were voices above, grunting and heaving. Grey light gave a little illumination through gaps in a wooden ceiling. Freezing water sloshed about his feet with pieces of shattered earthenware. The floors and walls were also wooden. On racks were rows of terracotta amphorae, stacked and secured with thick rope. Added to all that was the giddiness he couldn’t shake.

It was the hold of a merchant vessel, a large amphora carrier. Something told him it wasn’t a real ship, no more than it was a real ocean. This was an in-between place, a hole in the Spectrum. At least, he thought, I’ve managed to keep my wits if not my freedom.

He looked towards his captor sat opposite him. A faint aura surrounded the person, the face blurred. ‘Why have you chained me? Is that you, Pen Luthus? Thought I’d killed you already. It’ll really irritate me if I have to do it a second time.’

‘You have chained yourself.’ The face and body were dissolving as if another person was being born before his eyes. The process stopped halfway, leaving a shimmering blur.

What is going on here? ‘Why would I do something stupid like that?’

‘You don’t recognise me?’

Something in the voice tickled his memory, although it seemed neither male nor female.

‘Thought is a powerful force in this place,’ said his captor. ‘It can create or destroy, even bind. You must give up those negative thoughts. You think you’re not worthy, that your abilities are not good enough, and that you are a failure.’

The way this person spoke brought feelings of warmth, despite the uncomfortable subject. ‘Who are you?’

‘Do you remember the pond?’

‘I don’t ... what?’ Threadfin remembered. He shut his eyes, and recalled Sarscha attempting to drown their sister, an impossibility since Aiyana was undead. It had still been a terrible thing to witness.

The voice changed in tone, becoming softer, and Threadfin felt a shock of recognition. ‘Little Yana,’ the blur laughed. ‘She drew on the life of crows and spent months collecting them. Some servants got sick, guardsmen too, but she never meant harm. In time, she learned how to focus, to draw life from just birds and animals. To better hide her abilities.’

‘What ...?’ Threadfin stammered.

The shadowy form leaned forwards, and two hand-like appendages touched Threadfin’s head. There was warmth in that contact. He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to keep his wits, but something had taken control of his mind, and it beat down all resistance as the memory filled him.

‘Freaks,’ she cried, staring at Threadfin for once. ‘Father will hear about this. He won’t stand for freaks on the throne!’

Threadfin knew that she was right. He was different, a freak. He didn’t know what the word meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. It had something to do with the other Threadfin in the water. He didn’t like him, no, not at all. The other him was scary, and he didn’t care if he never saw him again. In fact, he made a promise to himself he never would.

They ran towards the palace with Aiyana crying, ‘I’m not a freak, I’m not. I’m beautiful, I am!’

Threadfin had a feeling and glanced upwards to a palace tower. High above, he saw a figure peering between two merlons.

He couldn’t see his father’s face, couldn’t see if he was angry. He didn’t know what it was he’d done, couldn’t explain it. It scared him, but he’d had to help Aiyana. He’d saved her.

It was all that mattered.

The blur drew back. The face changed, the body growing smaller, until he recognised Tezcat’s greying skin, sunken eyes, and cheeky smile.

‘Cat?’

The blurring occurred again, swifter than before. When it ceased, what remained was a shock of white hair above a wrinkled face, a sunken left cheek where Olen Quintus had taken a spear thrust in his youth. Threadfin groaned as the serpentine chains bit deeper, their venom weakening him.

‘Hello, Fin.’

‘How can you be here? Is this some sort of trick?’

‘When I died,’ said his grandfather, ‘I joined the countless viralic souls who are connected across time to your sister. It’s the result of a complicated spell. Yana and I shared a particular magical talent, you see, and so she can give us the freedom to roam the world for short periods. The illusion of existence if you will. It does take a toll on her, I’m afraid. We see and hear what she does, when she wishes it. It is because of her I am here now. She sent me to you as she once sent Tezcat, because she cannot follow herself. It is her way of watching over you.’

Threadfin stared at his grandfather, speechless for once. He recalled curling in his lap by a roaring fire, listening to his tales in wonderment. He had always found time for Threadfin. ‘You, you were ... and now you’re... and Cat, she’s—’

‘It is a long story, Fin.’

‘Wait a minute, if you were a viral like me, how can you be my grandfather? We are Plagueborn. How is it you came to sire my father? It isn’t possible ... is it?’

‘That shared talent with your sister I mentioned, well, that’s how. My ability meant I could produce life in myself, and therefore in your grandmother’s womb, and yes, she was of the living.

‘It is a rare talent among the undead, and none is better at it than your sister. Of course, my being your grandfather had nothing to do with you two birthing as virals. It doesn’t work that way. You were both born of the plague, like me. Was it a coincidence we were of the same line ... perhaps, or could it have been by design? The Spectrum works in mysterious ways.’

‘What happened to you?’

The old viral grimaced. ‘My Darken betrayed me, a man I trusted and bestowed great responsibility upon. It seems history repeated itself with your father’s death, and in that there was design. However, I was more careful in the choosing of your Darken. I was able to influence that through your sister.’

Threadfin ceased in his struggle against the serpents. He stared at the old man in disbelief.

‘Normally, you would’ve had one from birth. Your father chose otherwise. In that he erred, but I set it right. Yana always was able to sway him where I could not.’ He gave a mischievous smile that was identical to Aiyana’s. ‘You don’t know who I’m talking about, do you?’

Threadfin racked his maggot-riddled brains, but ended with a shake of his head.

‘He doesn’t seem like much, I know,’ said Olen Quintus, ‘and he isn’t really Aidari as I’m sure you’ve figured out. That’s why I chose him. Be wary of those Aidari by the way. They have their own agenda and you cannot trust them all. Well, once they somehow discovered he was your Darken, they recruited him. You did always moan about not having one.’

He had a Darken and it was, Podral Pole? Several moments of silence went by as he let it sink in. ‘You know for a time I hated his guts.’

‘And you loved Tezcat like a sister. I think she’s a little jealous of you and Yana, you know. Just because she’s full dead as you like to put it, doesn’t mean she has no feelings.’

How many souls were within his sister, or connected to her, or whatever? He didn’t pretend to understand. Although Olen Quintus looked substantial, Threadfin thought he could see through him. He bit back on the urge to poke him. The ship lurched and rolled, several of the amphorae snapping their ropes, and smashing against the hull.

‘Fin, you must listen to me now, as you once did. You’re nearing your destination, but you must throw off your shackles. The time will come when you must lose yourself.’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘Believe in not just what you are, but who you are. You fear what you might become. You fear your own power. Being a viral does not define you, nor what people think about you. You are still my grandson. A boy who defended his sister, who loved, laughed, and never gave a care to what others thought. That is the grandson I knew. When the time comes, you must let go of your fear and trust in who you are. Then, you must lose yourself. That is how you will find yourself again.’

The ship lurched as though turning. It rose and fell on the troubled waters outside. Threadfin wasn’t sure he liked what he heard. ‘You’ve never shown me what you look like. In all those years, I never saw your true face, not properly.’

For a brief moment, his grandfather revealed a deathly grey visage many would’ve mistaken for a ten-year-old corpse. It vanished as quick.

‘You, Tezcat, all those others, you’re not really ... gone.’

‘Oh, we are dead, but our souls are stuck halfway between this world and nothingness. If not for Aiyana and Beezer’s spell we would be lost.’

Beezer? Olen Quintus’ image then flickered and faded. ‘Grandfather,’ said Threadfin, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice, ‘what’s wrong? What’s happening?’

‘Your sister is weakening,’ said his grandfather. ‘I don’t have much time with you. You are nearing the point of arrival. Yana will try to guide you, if she can. It will take less effort than sending us, but she won’t be able to do much.’

‘What’s happened to her?’ Threadfin felt a dread in his gut. ‘Is she alright?’

‘Do not let this place lull you, Fin. What you see is just your mind trying to make sense of it all. You must believe in yourself.’

Footsteps thudded on the deck above, but the sound was wrong. Was there a crew on this craft? The ship lurched, but it wasn’t the motion of water. It was as though something hammered against the hull, trying to break in.

With a start, he realised he was alone. He struggled against his bonds, the snakes coiling tighter. Bound like this, he couldn’t do much. His grandfather had said something about his mind making sense of it all. Yes, that was it!

In the end, it proved simple. He stared at the coiling bonds, their poisonous fangs sinking deeper, and imagined them as his doubts. Then, he just let them fall away. The snakes vanished before they struck the hull. A feeling of purpose, of resolve, filled him. Huh, that went better than I expected. He prayed to the Spectrum above the rest would prove as easy.

Aiyana was weakening. He now understood if he failed here, she would die. What would happen to his grandfather then, or Tezcat? There was nothing for it. He would just have to succeed.

He listened to the scratching and thumps, snarls, and distant screeches, and also wondered what would happen if those things got inside. Then it all began to dissolve around him.

‡

HIS FINGERS GOUGED at the soil until he could force one bony arm through. His head broke the surface. Flesh slopped from the raven’s beak as it trained one beady on him. The bird fluttered to one side as he hauled himself out of the ground. Spreading its wings, the scavenger rose from the wasteland with a raucous cry.

He clawed dirt from his lank hair. It clotted his vision. He tried blinking tears to clear it, but his eyes were bone dry. Churned earth came into view, with crumbling monoliths towering in the distance. Chunks of stone and rotting wood littered the plain in front of him. He rose and took several awkward steps towards a cadaver. He knelt beside the ribboned flesh. Though he was naked, he felt no cold. There was no breath of wind in that place. It felt as if there was no air at all, but that couldn’t be. He needed to breathe, didn’t he?

Touching cold lips with thin fingers, he smiled. There were others beneath the tossed stones. The corpses excited him. He stroked the woman’s hair. Clumps lifted away, skin tearing from the emaciated flesh. The woman’s eyes opened within a damaged face. He smiled at her.

He couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t know that place. It didn’t matter. He felt at home. Strange, because he didn’t think he belonged there.

Sounds came from the desolated buildings. He ignored them. He glimpsed small creatures with spiked tails and wings, darting through the shadows. He ignored those too. Howls rose in the distance. Now, those he did not ignore. Those beastly wails sent a shiver of fear through him. He didn’t like feeling afraid. It was a cold feeling.

The dead woman gripped his hand. ‘Don’t be scared,’ he said to her. ‘It’s me they’re after.’ How did he know that? That it was the truth was not in question. He stroked her hand. Why couldn’t he remember his name?

‘Listen up good, Threads,’ the woman responded. Her voice was familiar, too familiar. ‘I is here to help. You needs be careful, or you will lose yourself. You needs wait for the right moment. Member what your ol’ grandfather told you.’

‘I have a name?’ he asked. Threads?

The woman’s face was expressionless. ‘You is Threadfin Todder, stupid. Member yourself.’ Then she whispered, ‘She’s here, somewhere. Be careful.’

Her answer didn’t please him. Not his name but the mention of, she. Threadfin was certain he knew the woman. She knew him. Threadfin, yes, the name did trigger something in his mind. ‘Todder,’ he mumbled, and then asked, ‘What is this?’

‘The between-worlds, or leastways, it’s what I calls it. Be careful, Threads. Tis treacherous. There is few rules in this place, if you can calls it a place. I doesn’t knows much else.’

‘I know you, don’t I?’

‘Course you does, stupid.’

Standing, to search the barren earth, he scratched at his scalp. He had the feeling of something burrowing into it. An idea maybe or lost memories. Something tickled his thoughts that this was a constant problem. He couldn’t understand why.

He looked up at the circling crows, and then walked towards the monoliths.

When next he glanced up, the crows had disappeared. In their place circled dark shapes with long horned tails.