Elephant Pond 3:

Remembrance (1)

Morgan was woken up by voices coming from their kitchen. They were loud enough to hear but not discern any words, though he guessed it was his parents arguing over something. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes he sat up and saw Tory, still in her white night gown, peering out from their shared bedroom into the kitchen down the short hallway. So Morgan eased off of his bed and approached the door to listen in as well.

“She’s barely ten years old, she’s too young to be going harvesting.” Maya said.

“Morgan was nine, when I took him on his first trip, and besides she won’t be going in the water.”

“Morgan’s first trip was almost a decade ago, when it was a much different time.” his mother retorted. When people weren’t being killed like Brunwin is what Morgan thought she really meant.

“I already promised her. What kind of father would I be if I broke promises?”

“And why did you do that?!” Maya exclaimed, bewildered.

“Well, she asked...” Typhon muttered.

His mother scoffed.

Morgan looked down at his sister and she smiled up at him.

“Maya, I think they need this. A simple trip in nice weather will do us a lot of good. Besides, Morgan needs the materials for his forging and lots of others have already ventured out as well. Tallus has restricted all harvesting trips to our sired isles, so we’ll be as safe as can be.”

“I just think it’s crazy to go out there so soon. Brunwin’s Baring was just two days ago.”

“Now might be the safest time. Whoever it is will expect us to be on guard since the last attack was so recent. They’ll likely bide their time, and wait for us to drop our guards again,” Typhon said.

Morgan’s mother sighed deeply, sounding more annoyed than concerned now. “Fine, you can go, but I’m coming too.”

“I promise that I’ll keep both of them safe, no matter the cost.”

Even from their room, Morgan could feel his father’s statement shift the air of the conversation.

“What about me, your wife?” Maya asked.

“You’re old enough to fend for yourself,” Typhon laughed.

Within an hour, they were out the door, making their way south of the village to the nearest exit.

They didn’t bring much aside from some fruits his mother packed and his father’s spear, Tide Reaver. It was a spear he’d made from the remains of a Blood Reaver, a massive species of leviathan that created huge waves and currents with fan like fins larger than the sails on most ships. He’d been lucky enough to find one on its last legs and had comforted the beast in its final moments. When it passed he took what he needed to make the supreme spear, the second highest grade of weapon possible. The feat had allowed him to reclaim begrudging respect that he’d lost from years missing, from those less than happy to give it.

Within a few minutes, they neared the southern end of the village, passing the last of the homes and shops until they stood in front of the Barrier Reef, at one of the few points where no massive coral structures would stop them from walking directly through it.

Usually, moving through this much water would have required several minutes of swimming, but being Khantani they simply walked through as if there was no water at all, while fish swam around them as they normally did. Morgan held his sister’s hand, pulling her along so she wouldn’t stray, regardless she did stop several times to admire various coral and peculiar fish.

Upon exiting the barrier, they took a sandy path that had been cleared path through a short stretch of forest before the beach. Tall palm trees swayed over head in the salty breeze, some of them baring coconuts or assorted colors of wild berries whilst shorter trees and shrubs held apples and plums. When they stepped out on to the white sand of the beach on the other side of the forest, they met two guards stationed there. They wore the scaly, pale blue armor, worn by guards tasked with protecting the village. One of which Morgan recognized from some distance away as Castor, by his large stature.

“Morning, Castor.” Typhon said, clapping the hefty man on the back, as he walked past, rattling his armor.

“Good morning, Typhon. Have a good trip today.” Castor said with a massive smile, that beamed through the T shaped visor of his helm.

“Good morning Castor, and....?” Maya asked.

“Gayle,” answered the new guard.

“You’re Aiden’s son right? I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

Gayle simply nodded, and made no attempt to further the conversation, prompting a silent glance from Typhon.

“Morgan and little Tory, you’re both getting bigger by the day, I can’t believe it!” Castor exclaimed. “Maya, you take good care of old grumpy over there,” said the burly man, laughing heartily once again to which his mother only smiled and nodded.

Morgan had never thought of his father as particularly grumpy, but compared to Castor, everyone else probably was.

“Alright, you lookouts have a good day.” Typhon said motioning his family along.

“Lookouts?!” exclaimed Gayle. “We are the ordained barrier guards.”

“Guard?” Typhon inquired, turning around this time. “Alright guard, what do you do if you see invaders coming toward our shores?”

“Return to the village and alert the Chief of course.” Gayle stated as if it was obvious.

“And what would say to them? Look out, there are invaders, right?”

Castor burst out laughing, and slapped his knee. Morgan wondered if knew the jab also applied to him or if simply didn’t care.

Gayle thought, silently for a while.

“But...we’re named the grand defenders of the tribe..” he continued.

“Right, so you’re glorified lookouts.” Typhon chuckled then turned once more and continued down the beach, his family in tow.

Before Gayle could speak again, Castor still laughing clapped him on the back and gave him a look, as if to let it go and he bitterly complied.

“Just be careful out there Typhon.” Castor called.

“I will,” Typhon nodded. “We won’t be going past our sired isles, shouldn't take very long at all.”

Castor nodded back and gave a weary smile.

They continued down the beach till they reached the water’s edge. There Morgan’s mother knelt and said a few words under her breath, summoning their small boat from below the sand.

As they waited Morgan looked out, savoring the scenery, as the deep blue of the ocean shifted into dozens of colors as the water neared their shores. Emerald and crimson waves crashing over violet and sapphire, intermingling until multicolored sheets crowned with white foam curled at their feet. His father being far-more well-travelled than most sea-smiths had told him with certainty, that this was unique to Khantani and existed nowhere else in the Knife Isles. He’d said it was proof of their god’s presence and influence.

By the time Morgan was finished admiring the view, half of the boat was already jutting upright out of the sand, the wooden vessel already several heads taller than his father and twice as wide. Eventually, the sand ejected the last of the boat, and it fell onto the beach with a muffled thud, still filled with sand.

Tory marveled at the boat, at its sheer size and its design, running her hands along the beige wood. Morgan couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship as well. All of the village’s boats were handcrafted and enchanted by one family of sea smiths that specialized in the practice for centuries, so it was hard not to appreciate work perfected over generations.

Maya spoke again and Morgan saw two distinct runes carved into the boat glow white and the sand rapidly drained out, revealing a small anchor attached to the boat’s floor board by a black chain. This prompted Tory to begin inspecting the runes themselves that encircled the upper half of the exterior of the boat, tracing the ones she didn’t know with her fingers, which was most of them. Even Morgan could only recognize a few.

Morgan’s mother, growing impatient, picked Tory up and seated her in the boat.

“I’m not done looking!” she protested.

“We have to get going; you can gawk at it more from inside.”

Morgan and his mother joined Tory, followed by his father.

When they were all seated comfortably, Maya spoke a few words and runes carved inside of the boat came to life. The boat kicked up the sand behind it, as if it were water, and began rocketing forward; mincing the sand, till it reached water and accelerated even more.

They shot forward over the multicolored waves for some time, sharp winds tousling their hair, until the myriad of colors became the ocean’s usual turquoise once more, as they approached the many small islands before them.

Khantani’s sired isles, just like those of the other tribes’ were originally part of each of their main lands, but broke off more than a millennia ago. Hence the name sired isles; small islands born from a land mass.

The first isles they approached seemed relatively normal, and reminiscent of Khantani; green trees and attractive beaches. However Morgan knew that strange and aggressive creatures lurked the land masses, all the same, no matter how familiar or inviting. Brunwin and experience had taught him there was nothing to gain by even looking at what monstrosities roamed sired isles and much to lose by potentially antagonizing whatever might stare back.

After passing a few more sired isles, Typhon commanded the boat to stop in front of an isle covered solely in dead trees and to the right of an isle that was just a tall column of bare rock like an eroded mountain, with massive grey roots on it. Morgan and Tory followed the roots down into the water where they saw it connected to massive upside down, grey mushrooms with purple caps. Their mother had explained that the order Avitide granted their island was like dye dipped in a river, the farther downstream the thinner it was. As a result the further they got from Khantani the stranger the geography and inhabitants of the islands.

“Alright, we should be able to get what we need around here. Very few people know about the kind of materials that can be found here, but I’ve been using this spot for years.”

Typhon got to work, checking the anchor like he’d done a thousand times on their way there, ensuring there were no knots or kinks, and that the bronze bells attached to the anchor's chain were all connected and working while Tory watched over his shoulder. Morgan readied himself as well, fastening a brown pouch to his waist that fell just below his knees and discarding his shirt.

“I’ll go first, there are a lot of materials I need to get,” Morgan said as he peered down into the water. Aside from the massive upside down mushrooms from the isle to their right, and a reef directly below them, Morgan couldn’t see the materials his father was so excited about.

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly. Just remember where the anchor is and stay close enough to hear the blue bells,” Typhon instructed.

Morgan nodded and jumped into the ocean. The comparatively cooler water refreshed him as he sank a few meters down. There he closed his eyes and focused on manifesting his depth skin, feeling the water touching shift as it rolled over his skin.

Depth skin was the main tool every sea smith required to harvest materials. It was like a layer of invisible armor that converted sea water to breathable air just before it entered their noses while protecting them from most of the natural risks associated with diving. The skill required years of practice, and consistent concentration but without it harvesting materials for their weapons would be impossible.

When Morgan opened his eyes again and looked below him he saw a few materials he needed within the reef below, so he adjusted his depth skin, adding weight so that he sank fairly quickly. He heard his father dive in after the anchor, above him as he touched down into the sand.

Morgan set off scouring the reef, gathering various stones from rough stone deposits jutting out of the sand, and various coral. It was thanks to the same magic that altered the reefs and fish that allowed sea smiths to harvest materials without worry, since most of the coral regrew within a few days when they ordinarily wouldn’t at all.

Eventually he reached the opposite end of the reef from where he’d begun, but he hadn’t gathered much. So he continued forward to where the reef ended in a steep cliff and peered down. At first he saw nothing but darkness, but as his eyes gradually adjusted he was able to make out webs of pink coral that took the shape of hollow spheres, that he recognized as wyrm cradles.

Ecstatic, Morgan dived off the cliff, falling several dozen feet until he felt his depth skin began straining against the increasing pressure so he concentrated on reinforcing it even more.

When Morgan finally dropped into the cold midnight of the depths, the pearl tied to his wrist in a bracelet began glowing fiercely to illuminate his surroundings. His feet touched down into the cold sand landed shortly after that, fairly close to the glowing pink cradles. Morgan concentrated and added more a little more heat to the depth skin, just to regain some comfort before he began swimming toward the first cradle. He took out the knife he’d made with Brunwin from his pouch and began harvesting the webs of pink coral piece by piece. Halfway through the second cradle, he heard rumbling behind him. When he turned around he saw small glowing dots, fluorescent blue lights swaying slightly in the distance. At first he wasn’t concerned, Avitide’s blessing made all but the most aggressive sea creatures ignore him, so he returned to harvesting.

That was until the rumbling began vibrating the water around him and when he checked on the he saw the blue lights behind him again, they had drastically increased in number and were steadily multiplying in pairs as they were drew closer.

Hundreds of orange crabs came into view, each taller than Morgan with pincers large enough to hold him were charging towards him, their stalked eyes glowing blue as they kicked up massive clouds of sand around them. Morgan kicked off the sea bed, and floated just above the crabs and hopefully out of reach of their pincers as they charged, trampling over their kin too slow to keep up and the wyrm cradles alike. Most creatures only fled like that when trying to escape predators, but he neither saw nor heard any in the direction the crabs came from. The stampede continued for several minutes as they passed under him, claws snapping not too far below his feet, until the last of them ran up the cliff face to the reef above.

As the sand settled Morgan noticed a red glow and swam toward where it bled out of a crack in the sea floor. In the darkness of the frigid twilight, the red light was captivating in a way that made everything else seem unimportant and ineffectual, beckoning him forward, so he went. Morgan peered into the crack and realized it wasn’t a crack in the sea floor at all. This entire stretch of sea bed was, what Morgan guessed, was only a layer or roof.

Inside he spotted the source of the light first; dozens of floating red pearls no bigger than his fist. They sat perfectly still between massive glistening mounds of what Morgan wasn’t sure. In fact, the misshapen pillars were so tall, that Morgan would sooner reach the surface than their bases. Morgan leaned further into the crack, trying to discern what was below the shiny later of the mounds, until he saw a face staring back. Morgan reeled back in shock, heart pounding, as he struggled to hold his depth skin together. If he had let his depth skin go, he would have been crushed instantly, so he focused on slow deep breathes, trying to calm himself until he heard soft ringing coming for the surface. Someone had rung the blue bells.

But they had only just arrived, why were they calling him back already? He kicked off from the sand, eager to put distance between himself and what he’d found, leaving a sand cloud in his wake. He rose swiftly, the bells ringing the entire time as he raised his buoyancy with his depth skin, to rise over the cliff’s edge in a single bound. He was still a ways away from the surface as the ringing intensified, and he saw the anchor being raised. Morgan was a few meters from the surface when he saw his father with his arm outstretched to accept his, as he beckoned him forward, glancing at something behind him every so often. Morgan was swimming as quickly as he could, his arms and legs burning from the exertion until he finally broke the surface and took his father's hand. Typhon hefted his son up onto the boat and it immediately shot forward on his mother’s command. Morgan still panting turned around to see what the source of so much panic was. It was massive black ship hurtling toward them from behind, cannons ready.