Dennis McKiernan - City of Jade

“Some name me Brightwing,” said Aylis.

In spite of her tears, Lissa managed a frown and then said, “My mother told me of someone named Brightwing.”

“I know your mother,” said Aylis. “I called her Sparrow.”

“Can you help me, Brightwing? I am lost.”

“Yes, I can and will. Take my hand.”

The Pysk took Brightwing’s hand, and together they rose up into the sky.

“Oh, my,” said Lissa. “I am flying.”

“Then I will call you Wren,” said Brightwing.

“Where are we going?” asked Wren.

“To see a fox,” said Brightwing.

“Where?” asked Wren.

“Just across a bridge,” said Brightwing. “But first you must learn a special ‹word›.”

“What kind of ‹word›?”

“A ‹word› of ‹suggestion›.”

“All right.”

And Brightwing spoke to Wren the ‹word› and had her repeat it several times. When Brightwing was satisfied that Wren had the nuances well learned, she said a different ‹word›, and a hole formed in the yellow sky. In they flew-

– to emerge in a candlelit cabin.

“There is the fox,” said Brightwing. “Her name is Vex.” And she pointed at the vixen, who looked up at them both and made a yip.

“And there you are, Wren,” said Brightwing, and she pointed at the Pysk.

“Is that me? Am I found?”

“You only need to say the ‹word› I taught you.”

And so Wren spoke the ‹word› of ‹suggestion› and vanished. .

. . And Aylissa opened her eyes.

Moments later Aylis opened her own eyes, and she wept to see Lissa sitting up and Vex bounding about in joy.

“What happened?” asked Lissa, peering into the small silver mirror held by Aylis. The Pysk pulled a tress of her hair in front of her eyes. “Why is it gold?”

“I don’t know,” said Aylis, shrugging. “Mayhap it had something to do with the pavestone you were on when the Shade, bloated with the ‹fire› of those it had slain, descended upon you.”

“Pavestone?”

Aylis nodded. “Yellow jade streaked with gold.”

“What would that have to do with ought?”

Again Aylis shrugged. “They say that jade is a special gemstone, yet what its properties might be, I cannot say. Those in Jinga call it ‘yu,’ and they attribute various powers to the different colors. I believe yellow jade is aligned with joy and fortune.”

“And my hair turned golden just because I was lying on a piece of yellow jade?”

“No. If I had to guess, I would say instead it was because your spirit was driven into it by all the ‹fire› the Shade had stolen.”

In that moment, Pipper and Binkton and Nikolai came bursting into the captain’s lounge. “Liss! They said you were awake!” cried Pipper.

“I give you hug, but it crush you,” said Nikolai.

“Something to celebrate,” said Binkton, smiling, and Binkton seldom smiled.

“I’m so glad you survived,” said Pipper.

“Me, too,” said Lissa. “-I mean, I’m glad each of you survived as well. And Aylis says you two saved us all.”

Pipper grinned and said, “Not bad for a pair of chicken thieves, eh?”

The lounge filled with laughter.

The next day the rain stopped, and the jungle turned into a steaming tangle of growth. The slain sailors and Dwarves were recovered from the jade structure where they had been placed, and were brought to an area near the ship. Even as fellow crewmen laid the five slain sailors to rest in stone cairns, the Dwarves hewed dead wood into billets, though it was wet from the storm, and constructed pyres, adding dry wood from the ship’s stores. They poured lamp oil over all, and placed their slain atop.

All the wounded who could be were brought to the deck to witness the rites. The captain made a solemn speech at the cairns, and many wept, and then he spoke of the fallen resting atop the pyres. And he called out each of the names of the slain-comrades, shipmates, sailors, and warriors-each one to be entered in honor in the Eroean ’s log. Finally, at a signal from Brekk, members of the warband thrust torches into the wood. As the flames caught and smoke rose, Aravan and Aylis sang their souls into the sky, and not an eye was dry when they fell silent.

The river rose over the next four days as the upstream runoff found its way to the course, and throughout those same four days, sailors and warband laded precious jade into the ship’s holds.

The Eroean set sail on the outflowing tide of the swollen river the next morning.

She was on her way to Arbalin.

ELVENSHIP

LATE AUTUMN, 6E9, TO EARLY SPRING, 6E10

James died of his wound six days after leaving the City of Jade behind. The Rucken arrow had borne a festering disease, and a terrible dark rot had set in. There was nought Desault could do to stay the dark putrefaction, though poppy juice held back the pain somewhat. Ere James became too weak to talk, he had said to Aravan, “Cap’n, I’ve spent nearly all of my life asea, and so let it have me when I am gone.” And so, when he died, they sewed James in canvas weighted with a ship’s ballast stone, for that was what he wanted, and they gave him over to Gralon, god of the oceans.

Noddy was devastated, and during the ceremony he reverted to his East Lindor accent, saying, “He taught me everything Oi know, fro’ the settin’ o’ th’ sails t’ get th’ most outta th’ wind t’ th’ blowin’ o’ th’ poipe. ’N’ e’en though Oi allus wanted t’ be head bosun on th’ Eroean , Oi allus thought it’d be when James took t’ th’ land, ’n’ not loik this, oh, no, not loik this.”

In these same six days, one sailor lost a foot to the Ruck-arrow blight, and another his left arm, Desault wielding his bone saw to save the lives of these men.

The wind was too strong for even the Eroean to make passage around the Cape of Storms, and so they came about and headed for the Silver Straits, which at this time of year was passable, for it was the warm season in the south.

They stopped off at the Great Isle in the Silver Sea to take on fresh water and provisions, after which they sailed onward, entering the South Polar Sea on Winterday.

Sailors warned the Warrows about the Grey Lady, and Binkton scoffed, while Pipper’s eyes grew wide in wonderment. But then he said, “Oh, Bink, I’ll have nightmares about a ghost ship, her sails all tattered, and a crew of lost spirits aboard.”

“Pip, you’ve already faced the worst wraith you’ll ever see, and look what you did to it. So, if any ghost ever tries to get you, just remind it of the fate of the Shade, and the ghost’ll run away screaming in fear.”

They sailed the Silver Straits without incident.

At the Calms of the Goat they spent nearly three weeks rowing through still air, and two weeks crossing the Midline Doldrums, and then another three weeks at the Calms of the Crab.

But finally, the wind returned and the Eroean sped across the water, to finally come to the Straits of Kistan and the Avagon Sea beyond.

Six days later and running before a westerly wind, the Elvenship Eroean came on and on, churning a white wake astern, with every bit of silken sail she could fly-mains and studs, jibs and spanker, staysails, topsails, gallants and royals, skysails and moonrakers and starscrapers-filled to the full. Eastward through the indigo waters of the deep blue Avagon Sea she ran, bearing some points to the north, the strong driving winds on her larboard beam aft. No other ship in the waters of Mithgar was faster; no other ship even came close.

Above the waterline her blue hull bore blackened smudges, as if she had taken damage from raiders, as of fireballs cast upon her. And indeed she had been set upon by a fleet of the Rovers of Kistan in the perilous long strait north of that isle. But she had given better than she had gotten, for three of the crimson-sailed dhows now lay at the bottom of the sea, while two others drifted aimlessly in the waters, their masts and sails and much of their decks in ruin, their foolish captains dead.