Voyage of the Fox Rider (58 page)

[“So this is a
¡th!rix
,”] called out Alamar.

Rania smiled at the Mage. [“Yes, Friend Alamar. Are you surprised?”]

Before Alamar could answer, Imro butted in. [“You said that forty or more destroyers would be going to the isle. Why have you brought just these?”]

Nalin turned to Imro, but Alamar’s voice cut past what Nalin might have said. [“Listen to me, sprat, I came
out here in good fellowship and what do I find but a crotchety, querulous, self-centered, ill-mannered—“]

Rania’s shrill cry split the air. [“Stop this assailing one another! You are like two coral fish battling over possession of a tiny patch of sand.”]

Jinnarin looked up at Alamar’s blustering red face. “What’s the matter, Alamar?”

Aylis whispered,
“Converte.”
Then she turned to the Children of the Sea. [“I am Aylis, daughter of Alamar. Is something wrong?”]

Alamar called out, [“I need no help in taking care of this fry, Daughter.”]

[“Oh, I see,”] replied Aylis, sighing in resignation. [“Father, there are more important things to do than to argue with Friends.”]

Rania smiled at Aylis. [“Exactly so.”]

[“You have still not answered my question,”] declared Imro, arrogantly. [“These are not enough to challenge the evil on the isle. Why have you brought only them.”]

“Bah!” said Alamar, the elder turning aside and pouting, refusing to look at or even to speak to Imro.

But Aylis said, [“The plans have not changed; all promised are going. Yet we came first so that you would know that more than just one Kind have banded together to confront this evil in your Realm. You already know my father, a Mage. I, too, am a Mage. Here at my side is the Elf known as Aravan, master of the
Eroean
.”]

[“The Friend,”] said Nalin, smiling.

[“We feel the power of his token,”] added Rania.

“I am introducing all,” murmured Aylis. “I have told them your name, Aravan.”

Aravan smiled a greeting and raised an open hand, palm outward.

[“The black one is a Human known as Jatu”]—hearing his name, Jatu grinned and inclined his head toward the trio of Merfolk—[“and the one at his side is Bokar, our Dwarven Master of Arms.”] Now Bokar nodded his head, the Dwarf trying to look friendly but he only managed to project a stern image of unbending will.

[“In the fore is my father, and beside him are Jinnarin, a Pysk, a Hidden One, and her bright fox, Rux.”]

Jinnarin whispered something to Rux, and she and the
fox bowed to the Children of the sea, much to Rania’s delight.

[“I am Nalin. This is Rania. And Imro.]”

The three sea Folk bowed. Then Nalin glanced at the rising Sun. [“The island is far from here—two Suns and some at the rate of the
¡th!rix
through the weed, and if we would reach it…”]

“Bokar, call the others,” said Aylis. “The island is two and a half days hence, and the Merfolk would go now.”

Upon hearing this, Jinnarin’s face fell, but before she could speak—“Two and a half days!” exclaimed the armsmaster. “My warband will be exhausted rowing that far. If there be trouble on the isle, we will not be able to lift an axe.”

Aylis repeated Bokar’s concern to the Children of the Sea, and Rania laughed, saying, [“Fear not, Lady Aylis, if you have ropes, the
¡th!rix
will tow you all the way.”]

[“Not to the island itself,”] amended Nalin, [“but to within sight of it.”]

The Dwarven warband rowed the remaining dinghies out, and Jinnarin and Rux, Aylis, Aravan, Jatu, and Bokar transferred to their own boats, Alamar staying put, a crew coming aboard, joining him. Quickly the boats took their assigned positions in a file, the stem of each dinghy tied by a length of rope to the stern of the one ahead; the first in line—Bokar’s boat—was harnessed to the
¡th!rix
. “Slipknots,” had ordered Bokar, “in case this monster takes it in his head to sound.”

When all was ready, Bokar signalled the Merfolk, and they dived forward from the shell of the immense turtle, and in a moment, ponderously, the
¡th!rix
began to move, slowly gaining speed, its huge flippers stroking the brine as would great bird wings stroke air. Inward it went, deeper into the weed, cutting a wide swath, leaving a broad channel behind, dinghies towed after like beads on a necklace. And running alongside or aft of the boats swam the pod, dolphin chattering to one another, rolling up to curiously eye the ones they escorted—especially Rux. Occasionally swimming alongside as well came one or two of the Merfolk, their arms extended out before them, fins erect down each side running from wrist to ankle, their supple bodies undulating in smooth, dolphinlike
motions, their gill plates open along their rib cages now that they were swimming completely underwater.

Northwesterly into the weed of the pale green sea they fared, the great turtle now moving at a steady rate, gauged by Aravan to be some nine knots, and he called back to the others, “Can he keep up this pace, we will reach center in less than two days.”

“Two days,” sighed Jinnarin, disappointment filling her face. “That’s what the Children of the Sea told Aylis.”

“Aye, Lady Jinnarin,” said Jamie, the sailor aboard her boat. “The Swirl, well it be nearly a thousand miles across in all—five hundred from edge to center, though the
Eroean
, well it came some third of the way in, or so they told me.”

Jinnarin sighed. “Oh, Jamie, I am just anxious to get there. Farrix is in the crystal castle, or so I believe, and if it’s on the island…”

Lork, one of the Dwarven warriors, asked, “Do we know where lies this island?”

Jinnarin shook her head then glanced down at the water. “The Children of the Sea know.”

Relk, another of the Dwarves, barked a laugh. “How about the turtle, does he know?”

Jinnarin giggled. “Even if he does, who can ask him?”

Jamie smiled but cocked an eyebrow. “The Mermaid can talk to him, I’ll wager. The Mermen, too. Here, if you look real close, you can see that one or the other of them is always up there telling him where to go…that, or urging him on.”

Jinnarin moved over to the wale and leaned out and watched for a while, verifying what Jamie had said, seeing that always one or another of the Merfolk stayed near the creature’s head.

And deeper into the Swirl they went.

Hours passed, the Sun riding up from the horizon and overhead then sliding down the western sky. There was little to do but sit and talk, or to carefully stand and stretch, and only Jinnarin did not feel cramped by the close quarters. They took meals and water, and modesty
notwithstanding, they relieved themselves over the side, even Rux.

Gradually the weed thickened, and when clumps of it floated past, Jinnarin could see small fish wriggling among the leafy tendrils and tiny crabs scuttling over the strands. She fished up a branch and wee shrimp scurried away, fleeing to other strands. Jinnarin and Rux examined the tendril, the fox sniffing and nosing this treasure from the sea. The frond was long and lank, thin stemmed and branched, with narrow pale green leaves curled at the very tips to form tiny snags to ordinarily hook onto other strands to form an entangled mass floating just under the surface. Diminutive berries grew on tender stems along the branches, and as she watched, a tiny snail slowly enveloped one.

As she and Rux examined the plant, Jamie said, “‘Tis only green hereabout, Lady Jinnarin, here in the Great Swirl. In the other waters of the world, ‘tis reddish brown, this weed, and not thick.”

“Reddish brown?”

“Aye.”

Jinnarin looked at the pale green sea to left and right. “Must be something about the water, eh?”

Jamie peered over his shoulder, as if seeking something aft. “That or the curse of this place.” At his words, all the Dwarven warriors—Lork, Tolar, Relk, Engar, Koban, and Regat—peered warily about, their hands straying to their weapons.

Shuddering, Jinnarin cast the weed back into the ocean and onward they fared.

As the Sun sank in the west, the giant tortoise progressively slowed, and now its stroke began to change, its front flippers sweeping forward to spread the weed and clear the way. Even so it maintained a goodly pace, judged by Aravan to be some seven knots.

Now one or two or sometimes all three of the Merfolk rode on the creature’s back, one always near its head, as if whispering instructions to guide the
¡th!rix
across the slow-turning churn. When not riding, the other two sometimes swam back among the dolphin, the pod yet following in the wake of the turtle, there in the long curving channel behind. At times, the Children would swim alongside the wall of weed, now and
again their quick hands darting out to snag a fish on their sharp talons, which they would laughingly cast to a nearby dolphin or eat with great relish, sharp teeth tearing. Too, the Children would gather sea bounty and bear it forward, presumably to feed the tortoise. Occasionally a Child of the Sea would swim alongside a dinghy and would look upon the destroyers within, the eyes of the Child filled with unspoken accusations, especially Imro’s eyes.

And still they fared inward, ever inward, while the Great Swirl slowly turned.

It was just after dusk in the dark of the Moon when they saw the first ship to the fore, a half-sunken hulk floating in the weed, dismasted, its timbers shattered, much of it clutched by a sickly green growth. A Jin
arian junk it was, its battened sails long rotted and dragging alongside. The
¡th!rix
gave it wide berth, refusing to swim near, though Aravan’s blue stone amulet remained warm as they passed it by.

“Why doesn’t it sink?” asked Jinnarin. “I mean, it looks half drowned already.”

“The weed, Lady, the weed. It’ll hold her up forever.”

“Oh.”

And on they went, deeper and deeper, a chill wind springing up at their backs.