Chapter Twenty-five

Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain opened her eyes, squinting at the bright, blue sky above her. For a few moments her mind was blank, not knowing where she was or how she had got there. Then those moments passed, and images of giant tentacles, a breaking ship and the darkness of the sea destroyed the blessed nothing in her mind.

She sat up and looked around. Sand. A beach. Not the one she’d known for the past who knows how many months, but a new one. She saw the hell-hound lying next to her on one side, Quenta and Tommi tangled up with each other on the other. What in the hell had happened? All she could remember was … tentacles. Giant, coiling tentacles, dragging them deep under the sea, water surrounding them but at the same time not. She never wanted to see tentacles again. Never. But what had happened after? She remembered getting tired, then falling asleep, and now? A beach? She glanced at the hell-hound. Was this the spirit’s doing?

She clambered to her feet and checked the sailors and the hound. She sighed with relief: they were alive. The hell-hound opened it eyes and it moved its head a little, looking at her.

Good morning. She heard a voice.

She flinched and twirled around, but saw no-one. The voice was distant, like an echo from a faraway cave, but at the same time it felt like it was close. Then she heard a second voice.

Hungry. It said.

It was a rough voice, almost growly, and just as the first one, it had come from nowhere. She wasn’t even sure if she had heard them with her ears. She shook her head, thinking maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

So … how are you, Krissy? Are you alright? The first voice came again.

‘Uh … I’m … fine?’ Krissintha said, looking around in a panic, still not seeing anyone or anything. Was she losing her mind? Or was this a dream, her last dream as she was drifting to her death under the sea? Must have been a dream; no-one had called her Krissy except her father. Maybe she was dreaming of him.

Hungry. Now. The second voice demanded.

Oh, you worthless mutt. Is your stomach the only thing you can think of? The first voice scolded the second.

Eat. Now. The growly voice demanded again.

Fine. The first one conceded.

Then a chunk of raw meat appeared out of nowhere, along with a small wooden plank, preventing the meat from dropping onto sand.

Good. The growly voice said.

And the hell-hound began to eat its … breakfast? Lunch? Krissintha looked up at the sun. It was high above, so it was probably about midday.

Sorry about that. Wolf’s got to eat. The first voice said.

Krissintha quickly put the pieces of this puzzle together, realising what was going on. She wasn’t dead, and it wasn’t a dream or her imagination.

‘You … you’re the spirit. You’re the spirit, and the other voice is the hound,’ she blurted the words out, staring wide-eyed at the hound devouring its meal.

Yes I am, and … wait! You can hear Akela? The spirit asked.

'Akela?’ Krissintha asked, not knowing what it meant.

Uhm, the wolf. The hound. His name is Akela. You can hear him?

‘I … can.’

Hm. Interesting. Well, I’ll worry about that later.

‘Worry? Is this bad?’ she asked, suddenly scared.

Oh, no, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just … I wasn’t expecting you hearing Akela, that’s all. The spirit explained, but it didn’t help her feel calmer about this whole affair.

Krissintha didn’t know much about spirits or spiritualists, but she knew familiars didn’t talk. Only monks at shrines could talk with spirits, and she was most certainly not a monk. What the hell was happening?

‘Why? Why am I hearing you?’ she demanded, frightened and excited at the same time.

For a moment the spirit didn’t say anything, then it sounded like it was sighing, or taking a deep breath.

Alright, so … I’ll tell you, but don’t get mad.

‘Mad? Have you done something to me? Something bad?’ Krissintha asked, her excitement decreasing, her apprehension rising.

I wouldn’t say bad, it’s just … I didn’t really have the chance to ask you for permission in advance. But it’s not permanent, of that I assure you, and I certainly won’t eat your soul.

Krissintha gulped, and her knees almost gave out. Eating. Her. Soul. Did spirits do that? Then it struck her: she’d almost forgotten that this was an evil spirit from the depth of hell. Of course it was eating souls. And the hell-hound … it would eat her body if the spirit ordered it so. This was bad.

‘Please don’t eat me,' she said, gulping.

I won’t eat you. Ever. We’re friends. The spirit said, sounding … exasperated.

‘Friends?’ she asked, thoroughly confused.

Hm … well, it’s one sided at the moment, but don’t worry about that. Why don’t you settle down, and I’ll tell you how we got here and why you can hear me.

***

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Krissintha sat on the sandy beach. The hell-hound, Akela apparently, finished its meal and trudged over to her, laying his head on her lap, demanding to be stroked. She obliged while listening to the spirit telling of a god named Wensah, who had personally come to their rescue, snatching them straight from the kraken’s tentacles. The spirit then gave her a brief explanation why she could hear it, reassuring her again and again that she was in no danger of being eaten.

It was … strange, almost inconceivable, having a conversation with a spirit. Its voice was ghostly and frightening, and knowing that the invisible creature was attached to her now, was even more so. And owing a debt to a god? She’d never heard of anyone owing a debt to a god, ever. To the monks running the shrines of the gods, yes, that could happen, but to a god directly? What the hell?

But …

‘So … you’re not an evil spirit then? You’re my familiar?’ she asked.

The prospect of becoming a spiritualist had occurred to her: the power a spirit could give its master was no joke, and this particular spirit had done things even Quenta had never heard of. A familiar. This could work. This could give her the chance to survive, and more.

I don’t know about … familiar. Let’s just say its a partnership. And what do you mean evil spirit? Do I look evil to you?

‘I can’t see you,’ Krissintha said, shaking her head.

Good point.

Had the spirit just forgotten it was invisible?

‘So … partnership then,’ Krissintha mused, getting used to the idea rather quickly. ‘Does this mean I’ll be able to … you know, use your power?’

Power?

‘Yes. Power. That shimmering power to make me stronger, faster, my blade sharper. Power. A familiar’s power,’ Krissintha explained, getting excited again.

Sure. Why not? Just bear in mind there is a limit to how much … well, power I can provide in one go. Also, Akela will be using some of it from time to time. Mostly for hunting.

‘That’s fine,’ Krissintha said, cusping Akela’s head with both hands, rubbing his cheeks, much to his delight. ‘Can I try using it? Can I try it now?’

Hold your horses, Krissy, Kenta is waking up.

Quenta?’ she asked and looked at the sailors a few paces away.

***

Krissintha watched Quenta rubbing the growing beard on his chin. Tommi was just staring at the hell-hound named Akela.

‘So … your familiar really went savin’ our asses, my lady?’ Quenta asked finally.

‘And it’s talkin’ to you? Like properly?’ Tommi asked his own question, a bewildered expression on his face.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Tommi?’ Krissintha asked, leaning closer to the young man.

‘Uhm… and it’s talkin’ to you? Like properly, my lady?’ he corrected himself.

‘Better,’ Krissintha nodded. ‘And yes. He talks, and I can hear him.’

‘I went teachin’ ‘im that,’ Quenta said, elbowing Tommi lightly and puffing his chest out.

‘I can hear the hound, too. His name is Akela,’ Krissintha said to them, letting Quenta have this small moment of pride.

Both men looked down at Akela. The hound stared back at them with its menacing, red eyes, but just as Krissintha was used to the sight now, so were the sailors.

‘Is the spirit havin’ a name, my lady?’ Tommi asked.

Oh, I totally forgot to introduce myself. I’m Kevin. Tell them it’s nice to meet them, too. The spirit said.

‘His name is Kevin,’ Krissintha said. ‘He says … hello.’

'Kevin …’ Tommi mused ‘… I knew a Kevin back home, I think. Weird name, though.’

Did he just say I was strange or something?

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Krissintha said, waving a hand. ‘And … you are strange.’

Uhm … good to know.

‘Are you talking to the spirit now, my lady?’ Tommi asked, leaning closer, squinting his eyes as if he could see it, just barely.

Krissintha shook her head, glaring at the sailor. Tommi flinched, then straightened his posture.

‘So … where are we, my lady? Do you know?’ Quenta asked, looking around. ‘And what’s the deal with this … Wensah? Never heard of a god called that. Where are his shrines?’

‘Right,’ Krissintha sighed. ‘Wensah is, and I’m going the quote the spirit word by word, “a colossal bitch, but we owe her our lives.” There you have it.’

‘He … went sayin’ that?’ Quenta asked, staring at her with not a small amount of disbelief showing on his face.

Krissintha didn’t blame him: she had also been taken aback by the spirit so casually badmouthing a god. Even Tommi was shaking his head.

‘He did,’ Krissintha said, her shoulders drooping.

‘Forgive me for sayin’ this, my lady, but your familiar’s weird,’ Quenta said.

‘What do you want me to tell you? This was the only spirit I could find.’ Krissintha replied, sighing.

That’s just rude. Both of you. The spirit interjected.

‘As to where we are …’ Krissintha continued, ignoring the possibly evil spirit, Kevin ‘… well, he says the place is called Solace.’

Silence. The two sailors just stared at her with slowly widening eyes. Then they looked at each other, as if trying to decide which of them should be the bearer of some bad news. They knew what this place was, didn’t they? Krissintha sighed.

‘We have survived a kraken. Twice. I’m ready for bad news, so out with it! You know of this place?’ Krissintha demanded.

Quenta nodded, slowly, as if he was still unsure if he should say anything. Krissintha wanted to just grab him by the collar of his worn shirt and shake the answer out of him, but the man finally decided to speak.

‘So … uh … I’ve heard Solace is an island, rather far up north,’ Quenta began.

Krissintha felt like screaming and tearing at her own hair. Instead she closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and muttered,

‘Great. Another island.’

‘Well, my lady, the place bein’ an island ain’t the problem,’ Quenta said, Tommi nodding enthusiastically.

‘What then?’ Krissintha inquired, readying herself for a horrible revelation.

‘Elves. It’s an island of elves,’ Quenta said, trying to smile at her, but failing.

‘Why is that a problem?’ she asked. ‘I’ve heard they don’t like our kind, but they trade with us, don’t they? Surely they wouldn’t hurt or kill us?’

‘Yeah, no, my lady,’ Tommi wailed, burying his face in his palms. ‘We’re doomed.’

Krissintha sighed, looking from one man to the other.

‘I’m not following. Explain! Why are we doomed?’ Krissintha demanded.

‘Sitanese elves go tradin’ with humans, no problem. Up north on the mainlands, near the Fentys Alliance,’ Quenta explained, shaking his head. ‘This is Solace, my lady.’

‘So?’ Krissintha prompted him to continue.

‘Bein’ human ain’t the problem, my lady. Sitanese or Solace, they wouldn’t go hurtin’ us on account of that. At worst they’d be a bit annoyed, and send us on our way,’ Quenta said, his gaze falling on Akela, and then on Krissintha. She still didn’t understand what the sailor was getting at, but the man continued. ‘The problem is … well, Solace elves are despisin’ spirits and spiritualists quite enough to go murderin’ 'em.’

‘I … have never heard of this. How do you know?’ Krissintha asked, not wanting to believe it.

‘Eh, it’s common knowledge up north, my lady,’ Quenta said, shrugging. ‘But I went hearin’ it from a Sitanese elf. In a pub. At a Voysair port. Buy ‘em a few drinks, they’ll be talkin’ like you’re one of ‘em.’

‘Yeah, they ain’t great at handlin’ booze,’ Tommi confirmed his fellow sailor’s account of the affair.

Krissintha shook her head in disbelief. It was rare to see elves down south in Thyssa, and she’d never seen one herself. She didn’t know much about them, and everything the sailors had told her was new to her. But she still didn’t understand why this was a problem.

‘Spirits are … invisible. How would the elves know I have a familiar?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know, my lady, but the way our luck’s been goin’, I ain’t hopeful,’ Quenta said.

Krissintha nodded, hummed and murmured some curses under her breath as she contemplated the new situation she had found herself in. Being a spiritualist was desirable in most parts of the world, at least amongst humans. It was an honour, a privilage and a blessing from the gods — not to mention expensive. She had never heard of any place where spirits were despised. She had been excited to gain a … sort of familiar, but now? Would the spirit be the cause of her death? Quenta was right: their luck hasn’t been going great and it wasn't showing any signs of improving. But there was something else.

‘Uhm … Kevin?’ Krissintha called out to the spirit, not knowing where to look when talking to him.

Yes, Krissy? I’ve been listening. I think I understood quite a bit. Kevin said.

‘Right,’ she said, then took a deep breath. ‘So … what is it again that this god of yours, Wensah, wants with us? Why did she bring us to Solace?’

Oh, it’s nothing good, I assure you. Anyway. Anyone hungry?