Blood of the Sea, Chapter Seven

Chapter 7: Council

Astrophel

The E’len already in the water ride their ‘urgas to the convening point alongside the longboats. Some ‘urgas surge out in front, leading the ships, others surf in the small wakes churned up by the strokes of the oarsmen. Astrophel guides Iska towards the back, waiting for his friends to find him: knowing they will.

It doesn’t take long for Sulien to join him, Ender giving Iska a short bark but otherwise staying out of her way. Khalil, one of the E’len who worked to keep the herd mostly clustered around the boats for the plunge, pops up from under Ender, almost unseating Sulien as Lleida snorts and slaps at the male as she surfaces. The two ‘urgas clash their muzzles against one another, jaws open, teeth flashing as they bark and huff at each other before Lleida rolls over on her side and gets out of Ender’s way, taking up residence between him and Iska’s left flank. Khalil laughs and swats at Sulien’s head but the red-head ducks out of the way.

Astrophel snorts, “You two are just as bad as your ‘urgas.”

Khalil grins widely at Astrophel and shrugs, “They’re energetic. It’s contagious, what can I say.”

“Where’s our girl?” Sulien calls. Astrophel gestures towards the long boats and the mess of ‘urgas in front of them, but they all hear Dionne whoop loudly and Astrophel catches sight of her leaping off the back of one of the ships. Sulien laughs, “That answers my question.”

Iska’s head perks up, having also watched Dionne dive from the boat, and without warning, Astrophel is jerked underwater. Reaching out blindly as the saltwater washes over him, a hand clasps his and he pulls. Iska resurfaces and snorts happily as Astrophel feels arms wrap around his waist.

“You still don’t think they’ve had a pup together?” Dionne taunts. The group laughs and Astrophel shakes his head, squeezing her arm.

“I have yet to see the legendary pup, but I believe they exist.”

Dionne props her chin on Astrophel’s shoulder, brushing his wet hair out of the way. “I haven’t seen them either. Ryju is being surprisingly secretive.”

“You haven’t seen them?”

Dionne sighs, “No.” She sounds wounded and Astrophel sympathizes. These creatures mean so much to us…

A foreign head bubbles up to the surface in front of the group, nostrils flaring upon reaching fresh air. Fur gleaming like polished wood, the brown female from before takes in the group and turns a quizzical glance upon the new E’len on her back. Astrophel grins and Sulien and Khalil cheer as Nox peers around the ‘urga’s head. Ender and Lleida surge forward and sniff at the newcomers. Lleida, having more dominance than Ender, goes as far as bumping her snout against the brown female’s. The brown’s lips peel back from jagged teeth, showing off her dominance and a hint of uneasiness in the face of the sudden onslaught of attention. Iska barks, the sound pushing against Astrophel’s legs in a short burst. Lleida and Ender back off and the brown female gives Iska a hard stare.

“You have quite the ‘urga, Nox,” Astrophel comments.

Nox looks like they’re barely breathing as their ‘urga has a staring contest with Iska.

“What’s her name?” Astrophel tries again, pushing through the tension building in Iska’s slippery body as they float, no longer following the ships as the ‘urgas establish order.

“I was thinking Qora.”

“Core-a?”

A little smile relieves some of the panic from the pallor of Nox’s face as they correct Astrophel. “Q-o-r-a. It’s a little softer.”

“Softer?” Khalil laughs, “You should have picked something tougher…”

“Qora is a beautiful name,” Dionne interrupts and Astrophel knows she tosses Khalil one of her famous shut up glares.

“I agree.” Astrophel pats Iska’s neck. The Hydrurga puffs out a breath but doesn’t turn her head towards her E;len. Astrophel sighs finally. “Are we really going to have a blood fight? The plunge just finished.”

“There’s no way it would be fair. Ryju wouldn’t let Qora score a mark on Iska,” Sulien remarks.

“It’s true,” Dionne says from behind Astrophel still, “but Qora doesn’t know that.”

Just as he’s about to slide free of Iska to let the two fight it out, as much as he would hate it, Qora lowers her head until just her eyes are above the surface, and averts her gaze, blowing bubbles. Nox practically slumps against their ‘urga’s back in relief and Dionne’s arms relax around Astrophel again. No one wants blood between us.

Khalil clears his throat, “We should get going. The boats are pulling away.”

Astrophel sees what he means and swears, nudging Iska into action, “By Phyrlin’s…” This time, the ‘urga responds, arching her neck proudly and swimming toward Qora. Instead of forcing the other ‘urga to move out of the way, Iska smoothly veers around her on their way past. Qora stops blowing bubbles when Iska passes, staring at Astrophel for a moment before turning to follow as Ender and Lleida also swim after the ships growing ever more distant.

As a group they swim for three paces – just enough to sync up – and then as one, four ‘urgas dive under the water and kick on the speed as they jet toward the distant reef surrounding Caladija, the quirky island where the shoal, since its inauguration, is always held.

~

From far below them, the bank surrounding the island comes gradually into view as the sand shores up toward the surface; the color and life of the reef rises to meet the sunshine sparkling in long shafts of light through the barrier of the waves. Fish of all varieties swim to and fro until they notice the ‘urgas and the ships accompanying them, then the activity of the reef transforms into a scattering of glittering, scaled bodies as the fish flee before the predators. A couple ‘urgas give chase, disappearing around the bend of the island in pursuit, but Astrophel remains on course as Iska dives deeper, locating the tunnel which leads to the center of the island - which is really more of a crescent moon-shaped sand bar topped by vegetation and a small, sloped hill which cradles the largest longhouse of the islands at its base. The tunnel leads to the lagoon which butts right up to the inner shore, above which sits the longhouse. It also lets the E’len stay out of the way of the harbored ships kept reefside, and those who have to make the walk from there to the meeting.

One by one, Astrophel’s group lead the way through the tunnel, staying mindful of the corners covered in juts of sharp coral, and the wide turn which supports an eel lurking deep in the rock. The darker water in the middle of the tunnel gives way to clear, crystalline blues which make Astrophel smile. Iska rolls upward, spiraling toward the surface and Dionne leans into Astrophel as the rush of movement tries to drag her down. Their heads breach the surface and Iska lashes her tail, sending them careening toward the shore where she slides through the wet clay before getting her flippers under her and waddling over to her favorite place to lay in the shade. With a long suffering sigh, the ‘urga twists to look at her passengers. Astrophel pats her neck and he and Dionne slide free of her damp fur.

Their companions slosh through shallow water as ‘urgas beach themselves or retreat back towards the beckoning waves, and the five of them make their way with the other arriving E’len toward the longhouse. Conversations start up as E’len greet one another or jostle to welcome the newest among their ranks. Older tide-riders shake their heads at the younger ones’ antics as a pair wrestle each other and go down in a sandy heap. One, grey haired with thick, bushy eyebrows, a trimmed beard, and a stout rower’s body nods to Astrophel as they both reach the door at the same time. Astrophel straightens his shoulders and stands back, Dionne almost crashing into him as the older E’len reaches out and takes hold of the warped wooden door, opening it and bowing his head.

“My Prince.”

Astrophel blinks, feeling his jaw working on forming a response before Dionne places her hand in the center of his back and pushes him forward. Staggering a step forward, he braces his hand on the older man’s shoulder and gives him a brief smile.

Entering the longhouse, the omnipresent sound of crashing waves sucking at the shore like a pup at their mother’s teat lessens, dampened through the wooden structure now looming about him. The sea air dies down, though the heavy taste of salt lingers in his mouth and nose from being underwater. The interior is lit by sunlight pouring in through the arched roof, though dead candles lie scattered about on the table and in the sconces spaced evenly along the walls, resting in the natural shadows provided by the curved space. Astrophel’s steps don’t quite echo as he makes his way toward the head of the room, Dionne and the others trailing after him; voices and laughter chase after them, ducking into the quiet space and livening it up.

Astrophel rounds the table, resting a hand on the back of his mother’s chair as he scans the quickly filling room. Each of the five tribes have shown up, as expected, and there’s plenty of jokes being made. He scans smile after smile, some laughing and clapping one another on their backs, some ribbing their neighbors. One E’len shakes out her hair and several others lean back, grinning as saltwater splatters on their damp skin. Her partner throws their arm around her and kisses her head. Dionne takes up residence at Astrophel’s side, hands splayed on the map table. Khalil stands off to the side talking to Sulien and a woman from his tribe. Nox hovers around a chair close to Astrophel, unused to the big room and the commotion, having just earned their place among the gathered E’len. Astrophel shoots them a reassuring smile when the door bangs on its hinges and his head snaps up toward Vance and his friends. Their laughter enters the room on the heels of the complaining door, and the rest of the crowd hushes. Noting the attention of the room, Vance grins broadly and throws his arms up. Behind him, Raelyn enters the room as those from Montoro yell and congratulate him. Her dark gaze brightens as Vance turns her way and draws her close to his side. From here, Astrophel can now see the swell of her stomach, their gazes meeting as Vance kisses Raelyn’s temple. She nods her head to Astrophel, releasing his gaze as she smiles up at Vance. Several people from other tribes glance furtively at Astrophel as Vance makes his way down the length of the table towards the head, catching Astrophel’s eye and holding it. Passing the chair set for his chieftain, he shoulders past Nox on his way to Astrophel, with Raelyn padding along after him. Khalil hisses through his teeth and steps forward to block Vance from going further. Vance tries to brush past him as well, but Khalil places a hand on his chest and pushes back. Vance lets his own hand settle loosely atop Khalil’s as the other man glares down at him, having a taller stature, but Vance raises his voice for Astrophel. “Call off your guard, Prince. I’m here to claim a Hilt.”

Astrophel raises his chin, “It’s not for you to claim.”

“You’d stop me?” Vance smirks and nods his head toward the room, “With them as my witness, I’ve become an E’len.”

Astrophel shakes his head, “So have many new to this room.”

Raelyn leans against the wall of the longhouse, scoffing, “Montoro has always claimed a place at the table, and among the Five.”

Astrophel folds his hands behind his back, if only to hide the way his knuckles whiten under his skin. “I don’t decide who gets a Hilt.”

Vance’s jaw ticks, “You know I’m owed one…”

“But does the Hilt think so highly of you, Vance of Montoro?” Astrophel turns, taking in the presence of his mother and the other Four as they enter the longhouse. Everyone near her bows, and the effect carries throughout the room to Astrophel and his friends. Vance smiles and bows as well, though the expression on his face looks more like he took a bite out of lime. Raelyn reaches out, her hand alighting on Vance’s shoulder in Astrophel’s periphery.

The Five weave their way towards the head of the table, stopping at their respective chairs. Astrophel stays bowed as his mother’s shoes fill his vision, stopping before him. Vetra takes his chin in her hand and gently pushes until he’s standing tall. Her lowered voice is only for him as she says, “My son.”

“Mother,” he responds in kind. Taking a step back, he holds out a hand for her, which she takes and turns, sitting in the aged driftwood chair.

Letting go of his hand with a squeeze, Vetra addresses the room. “The hydrurga are shoring, that much should be obvious.” Soft laughter greets her words and she continues. “Pups have been bred and should be accounted for by those who tend the parents. If, for whatever reason, a pup’s lineage comes into question, they and the E’len involved will be expected to come before Eulla’s Voice.” Murmurs of agreement quietly fill the room. “If your ‘urga doesn’t shore before the season’s raids begin, you have my condolences.” Vetra takes in the room, one or two heads bowed at this. “Additionally, if you find yourself without an ‘urga and you are present in this room, you will need to wait for the next plunge, or find a seat on a ship. If your days of sea-riding are over, you are invited to find yourself home amongst your tribe, or petition to move to another tribe’s lands.” She continues on, addressing the past season’s harvests, the opportunity to have a hand-fastening ceremony for those with a decided life partner, and the reminder that children stand to inherit from each parent.

E’len present are called upon to share news, or voice complaints. The newest tide- riders are congratulated and welcomed by The Five with the warning that it isn’t a role or title to be worn carelessly. Their names and the names of their ‘urgas are written down in a thick tome bound in seal skin.

The energy in the room grows restless as Vetra’s speech draws to a close.

“Does anyone else have something they wish to discuss?” She gives the final call, making eye contact one by one with the E’len in the room, some of whom smile and shake their heads, others who look away, having said their piece.

At the other end of the room Astrophel’s sire, Nasir, raps his knuckles on the solid table and glances at the people on either side of him conspiratorially. His voice raises to be heard throughout the chamber, “I think we all want to know whose asses we’ll have to kiss in the future.” Laughter rises from his end of the room, dying quickly as Vetra’s face remains impassive, and she pushes to her feet.

Glancing down one side of the table and then the other, she nods to herself before a slow smile grows, brightening her expression. “Who am I to deny the People?” Genuine laughter and cheers clap through the longhouse, shouts of different names rise to the top of it all and she listens before raising a hand for quiet once more. “We hear you and we thank you for your voices. The Hilts are not given out by us, after all, but by you.”

She places a hand on Astrophel’s shoulder, and as she continues to speak about the honors and duties of The Five, in his mind, Astrophel is transported to another room, in another time, where his mother stands before him, back to him, gazing out at the sea. Soft white curtains billow with the salty breeze that brushes across his cheeks and tugs through his hair, bound behind him messily. Vetra stands tall, dressed as though she is ready for a raid: hair pulled back in tight rows of braids bound together, though a few remain free around her face. Her pants cling tightly to her legs, feet bare save for slip-on sandals. Her arms are bare save for the ink spilling across her weathered skin; a vest adorning her torso cut deeply to show off her back, the edges of the short sleeves resting over her shoulders. Astrophel in comparison finds himself lacking a shirt and shoes; barefoot, the smoothed wood under his soles is tough and full of divots left behind by the wear of water and the tread of many other feet. His pants billow in the temperamental breeze as outside, the sky darkens and a howl rises from the waves. He crosses the room to his mother, standing at her side.

Vetra’s voice is steady even as a gale bursts free and lashes tree fronds against the roof, banging like weapons on shields. “I cannot recommend you to our people as one of the Five.”

“I know, mother. You’ve said as much before.”

“I have to remind you, for it is the only way to remind myself.” She turns to face him, and her eyes are distant, like she isn’t fully seeing him. He recognizes this for what it is, a mind-link. Her magic reaches out like a hand and brushes over his cheek, as real as her hand. As a dream-walker, he knows she has perfected the art of her Magic to make it something new. Glancing about him, he sees the rest of the room is left unfinished, like a gaping wound, left forgotten by her as she quickly structured this place in which to talk to him while their bodies remain present at the gathering of E’len.

Her mouth moves, and no words come out, so he returns his gaze to the sea. Heads appear in the frothing waves. ‘Urgas of all colors, searching for their E’len. A hand grasps his arm, and he startles, meeting his mother’s focused gaze, the color of her eyes burning into him as she fully submerges with him in this dreamscape.

“You have the strength for it. The Magic. The determination. My blood. The only thing I fear for you is what will come with your crown.”

“Has Eulla’s Voice spoken to you, mother?” He sets his hands on her shoulders. They feel slight under his hands, and he frowns. She is a woman full of strength and grit in the real world. Why does she think she isn’t? He knows this must be her perception of herself. Her Magic draws from what she understands to be true in the living world.

Looking upon her face, he sees a slightly younger version of his mother, the woman he knows, before him. Her eyes are just as fierce, though the lines he is used to that decorate the corners of her eyes are softened, the scar by her mouth a little more severe.

“She has, in a way.” His mother’s gaze shifts to his shoulder, and he glances down, seeing the stormy light shift over the silver, glittering strands of his hair which have tumbled free. Vetra raises her hand, fingers brushing lightly over a lock of his hair, which matches hers. “The tides are shifting, but whether they will be in your favor or not, I could not determine.” Her eyes are almost sad above the firm press of her mouth. She searches his eyes and Astrophel feels as though she is searching for answers within him.

“Mother…”

“The waves are set ablaze.” A voice behind him holds a deeper, resonant quality and Astrophel bows his head, bracing himself. Vetra shakes slightly in his grasp, her head tipped back, veins standing out in contrast under her skin as her Magic pulls hard on her, having crossed the seas to pull Eulla’s Voice into this dreamscape. The distance between them in the real world forces her to undergo more strain than normal. Eulla’s Voice continues, “The loyalty of those bearing hilts blur the lines between friends and foes. The sea is a refuge and a curse in lands both foreign and familiar.” The deep pressure at his back lessens and Astrophel turns, taking in the Goddess’ Voice – the woman wrapped in long, flowing robes that remind him of the pattern of the tides. The bottom where it brushes the floor is dark, almost black like the deepest parts of the sea. The gradient fades towards the top as it flutters along her breastbone, before the hood shrouding her face and the long sleeves hiding the tale inked in her arms darken again. Her voice comes softer, but no less strong when she addresses him more directly. “Time will tell your story, but you may not like the direction it takes, star kissed.” He can feel her eyes boring into him, his skin flushing with an uncomfortable heat.

“What do I have to do?”

“Love those dear to you. Hold them close, but don’t hold them back.” Her head tips to the side under the hood, the edges of the material flaring, “Claim your Magic, but be mindful of the powers you encounter.” Eulla’s Voice steps closer to him, and his mother steps away, her presence at his back fading as she returns more of her attention to the present moment. The Voice’s hand lifts, the sleeve threatening to reveal the ink in her skin but stopping just short of a thin black curve, the only marking Astrophel can make out. Her hand hovers in front of his face. “The sky will be your refuge. The earth, your prison. The sea, a great sadness. Fire, your ally.” Her fingertips brush over his forehead and down his nose, softly over his lips like sea mist, and down his throat. He closes his eyes and the press of cold lips graces his cheek. “Keep these words in mind, Astrophel, heir to the stars. Live long, live well.” A gust of wind blows over his face, frost-bitten and sudden like being doused in cold water, and he gasps, feeling as though his feet remain rooted in place but he himself has been pushed out of his body and goes tumbling backward.

Back in the longhouse, beside him, his mother leans forward to brace herself on the table. Casting him a long sideways glance, she nods to the gathering, “You all are dismissed. Those destined for the Hilts will come forward with Eulla’s blessing in a week.”

A few protests go up, mostly from the Montoro tribe, but Dionne snaps at them, “You heard her. The First speaks for the betterment of us all. Get out.” The tribes file out then; some with chuckles and some with glowers. Vance’s mouth opens, seemingly ready to fight about it, but one of his friends grabs his arm and shakes his head, leading Vance out the door even as he tosses one last glare at Astrophel before the sunlight obscures his features. Raelyn stops by Nox’s side on her way out and whispers something which makes Nox open their mouth in protest, but Raelyn makes her way out the door before more is said. The door swings shut behind her as Nasir, Astrophel’s sire, steps back into the room, striding up to Vetra and taking her in his arms.

“What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” She doesn’t push away from his embrace, however, and Astrophel knows she’s tired from using her Magic. His sire shoots him a questioning look and he only shrugs and nods towards the door. Nasir leads Vetra away, murmuring that she should eat something regardless and that it’s been a big morning for everyone.

Astrophel lets himself sag against the back of the chair of the First, letting the aged wood support him as his mind spins with the Voice’s words.

Dionne turns to Nox, “Don’t let Raelyn get under your skin. Vance assumes the hilt will go to him. You’ll have to find a way to be chosen for it instead.”

Nox sighs, shaking their head, “Maybe she’s right though. I don’t know if I’ll be the one…”

“You bring more to the table than he does,” Dionne insists.

Astrophel forces himself to glance up as Nox raises their voice, “You don’t know that. He already got his Magic anyway…”

Khalil leans over the table, gesturing from Dionne to Nox, “She’s right. If Vance already has his Magic, doesn’t that mean it’s harder for the Hilts to bind to him?”

“But not knowing my Magic causes problems by itself.” Nox argues back. “If the Hilt won’t bind to him, and he has his Magic, why should it bond to someone who may not have Magic?”

“It doesn’t always have to follow the bloodline…” Dionne protests.

“But when does it not?” Nox grumbles.

Sulien snorts, “The Hilt will make sure you’re the right one. We can’t be the next Five with Vance. I would personally riot.” He shoots Astrophel a glance, “Ast, you good?”

Astrophel holds up one of his hands to ward off his friends’ concern as three other sets of eyes turn his way, but his hand shakes where he holds it in the air. Pulling his hand into his chest, he shakes his head. “My mother…” he purses his lips and Dionne comes to rest a hand on his back.

“Maybe you should rest too.” She tilts her head toward the longhouse entrance.

Khalil strides toward the door, the sunlight outlining him as he checks left and right, “Looks like everyone left.”

“Let’s get you home,” Dionne’s voice is quiet in Astrophel’s ears.

He shakes his head, taking her support in the form of his fingers lacing together with hers as she tugs him toward the door. “Not home.”

“You have to rest.” Dionne’s mouth pulls down, her eyes darkening, “Mind-walking isn’t easy.”

Astrophel meets her eyes, vaguely feeling as though he should be surprised, but he simply nods. “Not home though. The tower should be fine.”

“We don’t have a bed at Asos,” Sulien beats them to the door and holds it open as Khalil slips out into the sunshine.

The contrast in lighting blinds Astrophel, burning into his eyes as he squints and blinks against the day, shielding his tired eyes with the hand not intertwined with Dionne’s. Astrophel grumbles, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“We can grab a blanket at the very least.” Dionne squeezes Astrophel’s hand. “Sul, you don’t live that far away.”

“I don’t keep extra blankets…”

“I do,” Nox says, appearing at Astrophel’s side as the longhouse door swings shut. “I’ll take Qora and meet you at Asos.”

“Kha…” Dionne starts to say.

Khalil raises a hand, “I’m on it.” Throwing his arm around Nox’s shoulders, he leans in, mouth against their ear, and Astrophel catches the start of  “Race you…” as Khalil tugs the group’s newest E’len along. Astrophel squeezes his eyes shut. Be careful you two. By the time he opens his eyes again, Khalil and Nox are racing down toward the beach, Khalil leaping over a rock and hitting the sand first, clicking for Lleida as Nox waves for Qora, the dark mahogany ‘urga raising her head curiously as Lleida, a lighter brown especially in comparison, starts galloping for the water, wagging her flippered tail as she barks at Khalil. The two E’len mount quickly despite the difference in experience, and slip into the water, disappearing from view.