Heyna's Tale - Chapter Three (cont.)
The Dreki Islands
The sunlight flared off the waves in Parrot Head Bay and caused Heyna’s eyes to squint and weep. Weeping had become a habit lately and the blinding light was a convenient excuse.
The gusting wind swept all manner of craft out into the wide blue ocean beyond the living watchtowers at the mouth of the bay. Large and small, powered and sailed, coming in or going out, Parrot Bay bustled with craft about the business of pleasure or the pleasure of business.
Heyna had often wondered about those towers, if they had really still watched for enemies in the time of peace. She used to think that the towers were beautiful but vestigial. Her father and mother had admired their artistry, without reckoning on their deadly purpose.
She was sure the towers were manned and ready now. But how good were watchers? Could they see beneath the waves? Were the Ryujin under water boats, the shuuikan, watching the comings and goings waiting for their chance to hit them again?
She remembered a day when her father brought her and Xico to the top of the Western tower. The view was magnificent. She could see far out to sea, but the view of the city, and the rain forest beyond, had taken her breath away. She’d hugged her father then, and Xico had too.
The memory sharpened the ache she felt for her parents. Their scent was still strong in her nose. Heyna vainly wished that she wasn’t driven out into the world on such a desperate mission. Now she knew to her horror that peace could be shattered at any time. Her respect for the watchers grew. Now she was angry again, and wanted the warriors called to arms.
Heyna stood on the deck of the Rapture, a steam powered schooner with a mixed crew. Teams of Erda and Dreki worked the rigging together. A small Gryph who stood beside the helm, calmly gave the occasional order. Together they maneuvered the craft out into the bay. Heyna could feel the waves through the deck. She breathed deep and tasted the salt on the wind. With closed eyes, the sway of the deck was not that different than the tree top city of the Quetz on a windy day. Not her sadness, nor fear, nor her grim determination to rescue Xico and Jaasi could overshadow the wonder of this moment.
The Gryph captain stood at the helm, alert. His strong, crescent shaped claws anchored him to the deck. He turned his head to watch his crew, sometimes clear around to look behind. The winds fluttered his vestigial wings, his feathers and fur were blue and tawny gold. Greenish tufts topped his ears. His voice rang out deep, not bird like at all, but booming.
“Hey there! Aloft! Aloft! Make sail!”
A Dreki crew member clambered up the main mast and helped unfurl a jib. Heyna wondered why she didn’t just fly up, but her wings were tucked tight to her pale brown body. Her long black talons easily gripped the lines. Erda worked to winch the mainsail into place and grunted out a little song as they did.
Once the sails filled, the captain shouted.
“Engines stop. The wind’s got us now! Steady as she goes.”
“Engines stop, aye,” repeated the helmsman.
The rumble of the engines ceased, and the Rapture glided out of the bay with sails snapping. No need to waste fuel when propulsion was so abundantly provided. Beside the captain, an Erda stood at the wheel. “Helm, steer zero one three.” Almost true North, Heyna thought.
“Zero one three, aye,” the helmsman responded.
As they passed the towers, the smell of the sea eclipsed the scents of the jungle. It was a cleansing feeling. On deck, even the smells of the ship were faint in the stiff breeze. Heyna breathed deep, and sighed. Well, she was on her way.
A squawk of fear swung Heyna’s attention to the delegation behind her. The councilors perched in a covered pavilion that shielded them from the rough wind. That wind could lift a Quetz clear off the deck. Garsh was flapping furiously, obviously having trouble keeping his perch in the wind. The pavilion was brightly striped and had many folds and flaps. It was anchored firmly to deck rings with cables.
“Pull that screen down!” Garsh squawked. “Now!” Heyna was slow to realize that Garsh was shouting at her. She moved to the edge of the pavilion and pulled down screen netting that partially protected the councilors from the wind.
“Thank you, servant,” said Councilor Igniush. Garsh scowled at Igniush. The delegation had been talking and now Heyna began to listen.
“No, no, no,” said Garsh
“What do you think that they are going to want, then?”
“We have to be smart about this,” said Garsh. “Let’s not prejudge. I’m sure the dragons will be reasonable.”
“Tribute,” said Igniush.
“I suppose that they’ll want an exorbitant ransom,” said another, Heyna didn’t know her name.
“Your suppositions are irrelevant, Curahash” said Garsh. “We need more information.”
“We need our people back,” said Curahash.
“We need peace restored,” added Igniush. “Our people and peace.” Heyna wondered if, “our people,” included the Erda.
“Peace? That’s funny, asking for peace from the ones who broke it, and paying for it into the bargain,” said a fourth Quetz that Heyna recognized as Councilor Caresh.
“You know we have no choice,” said Igniush. “And I hate to say it, but I agree with Garsh on this one. We need more information.” An ancient Quetz who had seemed to be dozing at the back of the pavilion opened his eyes and spoke. All the others quieted and turned to him, even Garsh.
“I remember the last war. It began just like this.” The Caresh and Igniush squeaked in alarm.
“War? What do you mean?” Igniush said.
The old Quetz just stared.
“Yes, Huehuesh, this was just a raid. We’ll pay the ransom and get Xico and the other chicks and be back to normal in no time.”
“I’m sure you will be proved right, Igniush,” Huehuesh said in a skeptical tone, and closed his eyes again.
“Juice, servant,” said Garsh. Heyna looked around, but she was the only Erda to be seen. She hated to have to cater to Garsh, but she had given her word.
“Coming right up, Councilor,” she said. She ran down the stairs and through the corridors aft to the galley. There were Erda bustling about preparing the noon meal. Trays of beetles, flies, caterpillars, and ants for the Quetz, several kinds of fish for the dragons, bark for the Erda, and fowl, for the captain, Heyna assumed.
“They want juice,” Heyna said breathlessly. One of the Erda, who seemed to be in charge gestured to a tray of bottles. The bottles all had orange juice, and each had a straw protruding from its stopper. She grabbed the tray and brought it on deck as quick as she could. She offered the bottles to the members of delegation.
“Thanks, Heyna,” said Igniush. Other’s murmured thanks. Huehuesh did not notice the offered bottle. Garsh took a sip and scowled. Heyna noticed that he did that a lot.
“Take this back and have it chilled, servant,” Garsh demanded. Heyna took the bottle and looked to the other delegates. They all seemed to be satisfied. She headed back below deck, but she did not hurry this time. Garsh could whistle for his juice for all she cared.
On her way to the galley she heard a crash down a side corridor. As she moved in that direction, she heard another crash, then another. She followed the sound to a half opened door that looked on a cargo bay. Erda were stacking armor, Gryphon armor, like that worn by the Janizaree. The crew stacked helmets, breastplates and leg armor into wooden crates. One of the Erda sniffed the air and looked up at Heyna. He bristled, and Heyna spoke quickly.
“Councilor Garsh thought you might be thirsty.” She held out the juice. They looked at her suspiciously.
“Garsh? He said to load the crates and be quick or we’d be fired.” One of the crew took the bottle. “Juice, eh? Maybe he’s not a total featherbutt.”
“Need a hand?”
“Naw, thanks! You better be about yer duties, ain’t ye, servant?” On, “servant,” the deck hand bulged his eyes in Heyna’s direction and drew out the word into a sneer. Both of the crew members laughed and went back to their work.
Heyna took a quick look around. The boxes were marked, “cookware.” She headed back to the galley.
“Cookware, eh? What’s going on here?” she muttered.
When she returned to Garsh with a cold drink, the delegates were still discussing their mission.
“I say forget the Erda,” Garsh was saying.
“We’re not leaving the servants!” Igniush insisted. The others grumbled general agreement.
When the group saw Heyna, they stopped talking abruptly, suddenly finding their juice bottles very interesting. Heyna gave Garsh his drink and he took it in one big claw without giving her a nod.
BelowLight take Garsh, she thought. Heyna went back to watching the ocean and the sea birds that wheeled and dove around the ship.
*
From the flat horizon at first, you see a smudge. Lookouts sing, “land ho!” but for a long time it’s just a small gray bulge where the dark blue of the ocean meets the light blue of the sky. As your sails haul you closer, the bulge resolves into a post, then a pillar, then a column rising into the sky with a wider smudge at its base. As the day wears on, the picture develops into an awesome sight.
Four islands, huddled close, rise from the heaving sea and are framed in the bright sunlight against the pale blue sky. Each island is dominated by a towering mountain. From the peak of each, a dark plume of smoke rises into the sky.
Quetz storytellers say that the Goddess Pu Apai created them, these the Dreki Islands, the islands of the flying dragons. Geologists say that millennia ago, four submerged volcanoes, erupting continuously for hundreds of years, built up the islands. They rarely had dangerous eruptions now. The wise say that the occasional lava flows will eventually knit the four into one giant landmass.
No one knows when the dragons began their blistering inhabitation. The Dreki storytellers say that molten lava, that the Dreki worship as Fleytestan the Creator, poured over the original dwellings, leaving little for the historians and archaeologists to hang their theories on. And anyway, the Dreki are not an introspective people, nor do they dwell on the past, preferring to look forward.
The Rapture made for the passage between the two smallest islands, under steam now, which lent greater control in these treacherous waters. In ancient times, the Dreki grew wealthy from salvaging the wrecks of ships that ventured too near and were dashed on the submerged rocks.
“All stop,” the captain called.
“All stop, Aye,” responded the Erda at the helm.
“Why have we stopped?” Garsh called impatiently. The captain ignored him.
“Take on a pilot.” An Erda crew person near the pavilion answered. “Don’t want to chance them rocks without one.”
“Ask the captain to attend, servant,” Garsh said. The Erda let out a harsh snort.
“Right away, your majesty,” said the crew person and walked off laughing. He nudged a Dreki crew member and said, “D’ye hear his feathery highness?” and laughed again as he went below.
Heyna could see that Garsh was embarrassed and furious. He puffed and preened and mumbled, but gave no more orders. Heyna turned away and looked up at the steep slopes of the islands. She squinted against the sunlight and gasped.
Dragons! Flying!
She knew the Dreki could fly, but she had never seen one in the air. What she saw now, she had never even imagined. Dragons nested in caves carved into the mountain slopes. She could see hundreds of dragons on the wing, coming, going, and soaring about the huge peaks.
Not like birds, they looked nothing like birds. They were too heavy. How could they even fly? Without feathers they lumbered on the wind. Their wing muscles rippled with power. A young dragon swooped to the water and snatched up a big fish, but it had trouble regaining altitude and had to drop its prey.
Several dragons circled the Rapture and called down to the ship.
“Need a pilot?”
“Pilot ye in?”
“Finest pilot here!”
“Pilot!”
By some method that Heyna could not discern, the captain made a choice and a small brown Dreki landed on the forecastle, folded her wings and made her way to the helm.
“Aznar! It’s been too long,” said the dragon.
“Captain Asta! It’s good to see you.” It was the first time Heyna had seen the captain crack a smile. “We need to get to the big island.”
“Straight through or around?”
“Straight through.”
“Usual rates?”
“Bonus if you can get us there before sun up.”
“Night passage between the islands? You got fragile cargo? Spoilage?” The captain chuckled and glanced at the pavilion where Garsh and the others perched.
“You could say that.”
“Sure. Can do.”
“Right! The ship is yours.” The Dreki stepped up beside the captain and grabbed the deck with her claws.
“Ahead slow,” she roared. “Steer one eight four and prepare to call soundings.”
“Ahead slow. Steer one eight four, aye,” came the response from the tall Erda at the helm.
“Bosun, pipe for sounding,” the captain said. An Erda on the main deck responded.
“Pipe for sounding, aye!” The bosun blew four notes on a whistle on a lanyard around his neck. Another Erda crewman charged for the bow and took up position on the starboard side. The crewman had a coiled rope with a lead weight attached to one end and an oval device attached to the other.
The Rapture steamed towards the space between the two closest islands. After a while, the pilot sang out.
“Sound!”
The crewman dropped the weight and looked at the oval device, which was a gauge to read the depth. “No bottom,” he shouted.
“Steer two points to starboard.”
“Two points starboard, aye!” came the response.
After another few minutes, Heyna thought she could make out shadows in the water to port.
“Sound!” called the pilot.
“Six fathoms!” was the response.
“Sound!” called the pilot again.
“Three fathoms!”
“Steer one point to starboard.”
“One point starboard, aye!”
“Sound!”
“Two fathoms!” Without waiting the crewman drew up the line and tossed it again.
“Two fathoms!”
“Steer one seven nine.”
“Steer one seven nine, aye.” The ship swung to port.
Heyna could see why the pilot was necessary for this part of the trip. Just below the surface the rubble from a thousand eruptions were strewn about. Huge boulders lined a narrow channel between the islands. The path through the boulders looked too regular to be random. They were just deep enough for them to be treacherous to the unwary, and at night, disastrous. She wondered at the engineering that could keep the channel clear of such massive heaps of stone.
The call and response continued. The pilot adjusted the course. The delegation sent the servants for drinks and dinner and cloaks and more drinks. The sun began to set, and the servants set off to prepare the passenger quarters for their employers.
Heyna made her way below with the other Erda. They were all servants to the Quetzalcoatl elite. She knew some of them, but those she didn’t, she could tell their clans from their scent. A couple were relatives. She sidled up to one that scented as trustworthy.
“You’re River clan?” Heyna asked. “I’m Heyna.”
“Hi. Yes. I’m Shekner. Call me Shek.”
“You hear what Garsh said? ‘Leave the Erda.’ What was he saying?”
“Garsh doesn’t think much of us,” Shek said. He looked down and said softly, “He’s only interested in getting the Quetz back.”
“Cursed featherbutt!” Heyna said. “I heard the bird out of his own mouth.” Shek scowled.
“Keep your voice down!” he said.
“I just realized something. That Garsh character has a scent about him that reminds me of the giant spiders down in the BelowLight.” She pushed Garsh out of her mind with an audible growl.
“Shek, have you seen anything strange on this ship? Any idea why we’d be transporting Gryph armor?”
“Armor?” Shek scratched his graying chin. “Bribes maybe? The dragons can’t get enough of that stuff since the embargo.”
“Embargo?”
“Yup. Apparently the Ryujin have been getting more belligerent lately, so the Gryphon cut off all trade in weapons, and that includes armor. Shek leaned in close and whispered.
“Councilor Igniush thinks the sea dragons are tired of peace and spoiling for a fight. Hence, the raid.” Heyna thought that over. She had never been interested in politics or international relations, never listened to newsreaders or read the papers. Her family was always so focused on making a living.
“Why?” It didn’t make any sense.
“Why are Ryujin violent? Why are the Quetz artistic? Why are Erda such good builders? It’s in their nature, I guess. Why ask why?”
“Point taken.” Heyna moved to prepare the passenger cabin for the delegation. She swept the floor and wiped down the perches. She made sure the fountains had water and that there was some fresh fruit in bowls.
It was well past nightfall before the work was done and the servants could make themselves comfortable in the cargo hold. All around were yummy temptations, rope, planks, even the sail cloth. The ship’s rigging were all things that the Erda could eat.
An old Erda, named Beetah, who was acting as majordomo for the delegation got up on a barrel.
“Right! This is the sloppiest group of servants that I have ever managed.” She slapped her tail against the barrel for emphasis. “We need to do better if we’re not to embarrass ourselves and our employers at the Dreki court.”
The other servants listened respectfully. Shek nudged Heyna.
“The old girl is a perfectionist, but she’s not wrong.”
“The dragons will be watching us closely,” Beetah went on. “They will be looking for shoddy service. They will be expecting us to be disgruntled and upset by the raid. They will be looking for signs of disloyalty. They will approach you as friends, seeming to be concerned about your feelings. They will seek information. They may try to bribe you to spy for them.” She looked each of the people in the eyes and raised her voice for emphasis. There were grumbles all around.
“Listen up!” Beetah pounded the barrel again. “One thing that you should know. Diplomatic immunity will not save you. To them, you are slaves. If you speak to a dragon without being spoken to, you will be killed, instantly. Even the dragon commoners may not address the royals without being spoken to. It is death for them as well. Do good work and listen to your team leads. Follow orders without hesitation.” She jumped off the barrel and walked around the room looking into each of the faces of her team. The she shouted in a stern voice.
“The Ryujin are not your friends! The Dreki are not your friends! Be on your guard! That’s all I have to say. Oh, and don’t eat the rigging!”
The Erda murmured amongst themselves as they settled down for the night.
“Trust a dragon! Hmph!” Heyna said to no one in particular. “Like we’re that stupid.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Shek. “I know the Quetz look down on us and think we are inferior.”
“Some of them,” Heyna said.
“Right, some of them. But look at the people around you. Most come from serving families many generations old. They are used to being used and abused. They have a very limited world view. The raid cut you to the heart, but to many others, it’s no big deal.”
“What? You think they don’t care?”
“It’s not that,” Shek said. “They have learned to swallow the emotions that they dare not show to their masters and mistresses. Underneath, they seethe with resentment. That makes them targets for subversion.”
“I seethe with resentment, but I’d never work for the Ryujin!”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Shek. “Everyone has a price.”
Not me, Heyna thought, as she settled into a coil of delicious smelling rope. She saw her parents in her mind’s eye. She thought of Jaz. She thought of Xico and wept silently. Finally, the gentle rocking of the ship on the waves sent her to dreamland.