Seamark, page 2
He took a step toward the water, almost falling when Garen tugged him back. “What?” Morgan demanded.
“I told your brother I wouldn’t let you leave the beach,” Garen replied determinedly.
“I’m not going to swim anywhere, I just—look.” Morgan pointed toward the water. “What’s that?”
Garen narrowed his eyes. “I’ll find out.” He let go of Morgan’s hand and launched himself into the waves, quickly swimming out to the object in his two-legged form.
Traitor! Oh, Morgan was going to give Garen a piece of his mind and then some when he got back here. So he could disobey his mother even when he knew she would beat him blue if she saw him out there, but Morgan couldn’t go ten feet out into the surf because Garen didn’t want to upset Brevaer, who wasn’t even here right now, and … and …
Garen hauled the object up onto the beach, and Morgan’s blood went cold. It was a chunk of wood but not just wood. This wood had been cut and shaped and was nailed together to create what almost looked like a jagged-edged shield. It wasn’t a shield, though. It stank of pitch and fire and was blackened on one side.
No, this was no shield. This was part of a ship.
The humans had found them.
Chapter three
Morgan was probably the only person in the clan who didn’t attend that evening’s council. At least not much of it.
Everyone had an opinion on the ship and its contents. The pieces of many bodies—none of them whole—had been found in the water, humans wearing black clothes covered with some sort of metal skin, many rings that locked together almost like scales. Some wore swords at their shredded waists, and the fact that their ship had blown apart so thoroughly implied that they’d had some sort of weapon on board that could have been disastrous for the Agnarra if it hadn’t turned on its bearers first.
“We have to flee!” some had insisted, including Garen’s self-important uncle Dinigan and his odious son Denikel. “Move to the hidden island farther north! If the humans have found us—”
“They didn’t find anything,” Brevaer had said firmly. “They didn’t get close enough to find us, and then they went and blew themselves up. No one knows that we’re here.”
“But that they came this far in the first place is of concern,” Rozyne put in. “We’re already far enough north that humans should have no interest in this area. What has brought them here now, then? To assume they don’t know about us is the height of arro—”
That’s when Sariel, Rozyne’s husband and the clan’s mad chieftain, had come barreling out of his hut, a wild look in his eyes. Morgan had been astounded at how such an energetic person, who spent so much time lying down, could be lost in his own mind.
“Humans?” he’d shrieked, wrenching a spear from the nearest warrior, who’d stared in shock. “Where? Where?”
“Father,” Garen had said, tears springing to his eyes. “Please, put that away. Let me—” He’d reached out, but his efforts were rebuffed with a wild cry. Brevaer had been pulled in to disarm Sariel, all while Rozyne hissed reprimands at her son for not keeping his father in the hut—as though he could have anticipated such an act.
That was when Morgan left, slipping through the crowd and back toward the beach. Not the same beach, though—no, it was covered with ship debris now, all of it brought back in an effort to discover what it was that had destroyed the humans’ ship so thoroughly. None of the bodies were there although some of their armor had been retrieved. After all, that was the most interesting thing about the bastards.
But it isn’t, Morgan had wanted to say when he first heard that. What about their clothes? What about their dishes and cups, their trinkets and idols? What more could we learn about them that might help us understand them if only we tried? He wasn’t stupid enough to actually voice that thought where Brevaer could hear it, though.
He avoided the sandy beach and pressed on for another twenty minutes until he reached the small, rocky beach that was far less popular among his clan. Unlike the other, it wasn’t protected by the shape of the island, a cove of safety during storms. This beach was rough, the wind constantly crashing waves against it. The only bit of creature comfort to be found there was an overhang, almost like a shelf, that had been dug out of the shore by the waves long ago. There was just enough space beneath it for a pair of children to plot and play, or for a single adult to watch the waves come in while marginally protected by the wind.
Morgan climbed down and sat beneath the overhang, stretching his feet out into the dark water. His scales came into view, glimmering in the faint moonlight as they adapted to their new element. If he pressed his feet together right now, they would form a perfect sea dragon’s tail.
I’m the most useless sea dragon in existence. Morgan had always known he had different priorities than his brother, but today’s events had driven that fact home for him in a most uncomfortable way. Fear, anger, frustration—he understood why his clan was feeling that way, he did! Humans had brought them terrible pain and trouble in the past. Of course, every avenue ought to be considered, but …
If they left this place, what would their lives become? It was already hard to grow enough during the warmer months to take them through the winter without rationing, and their next choice in refuge was even farther north. Was it smaller too? Flatter? Less colorful, less hospitable? In their efforts to escape humanity, were they going to turn themselves into beings who didn’t even have lives worth living?
Morgan didn’t know the right answer. No one did; that was why the council and everyone else was debating right now, but … He reached down and dipped his hand into the water, watching his green scales glimmer. He could just barely remember swimming in waters that were warm and welcoming. These ones were cold but bearable. If he couldn’t even swim, he would lose his mind, he knew it.
Morgan sighed and looked out at the sea, the water reflecting the pale light of the moon. Perhaps a midnight swim was in order. Brevaer wouldn’t like it, but then, his brother didn’t have to know every … little … hmm.
What on earth was that?
Morgan wasn’t entirely sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. There shouldn’t be anything floating in the water so far around the side of the island—the tides were against it right now, not to mention the winds. But that looked like … it looked like it might just be …
Morgan dove into the water a moment later, and his curiosity was momentarily overcome by the bliss of stretching out into his full length. He dodged the rocky outcroppings with ease and swam hard for the drifting lump that marred the surface of the sea.
Perhaps it was another piece of the boat—that was an exciting thought! It would give Morgan a chance to examine one for himself, to take time with it instead of having it wrenched from his hands and thrown into a great pile on the beach like the rest of them. Or perhaps … or … oh.
Oh, no.
There was fresh blood in the water. Strange blood, not from any creature he’d ever scented before. It had to be human. One of the humans must have survived the explosion.
Morgan wasn’t the only one to realize it either. Not far distant was a pod of orcas, the matriarch leading them steadily toward this new prey. Orcas and sea dragons usually ignored each other, but Morgan was small for his people, and if these orcas were hungry enough, they might challenge him for whatever—whoever—this was.
I could let them have it. The human must be close to death. But … Morgan had never seen a human up close before! This could be the only chance he ever got to inspect one for himself, and he wasn’t about to lose it. He let the waves carry the body past him as he twisted his body into a threat display, baring his teeth and holding his short, stubby claws out in front of him.
The mama orca slowed down, bemused by his appearance. She made to go around him, and Morgan darted sideways, blocking her path. After two more tries, both thwarted, she pulled back and chattered a bit to her pod.
Morgan didn’t speak orca fluently, but he got the gist of things. She and her family had been snacking on pieces of humans all day. A fresh kill appealed to her, but they weren’t hungry and didn’t need trouble with the Agnarra. That’s right, you don’t. Morgan opened his jaws a little wider and wiggled the pointed tip of his tail for emphasis.
The matriarch did the orca equivalent of shrugging and turned around, leading her petulant pod away. Once they were distant enough not to be a threat, Morgan relaxed, a bit astounded he’d managed to pull that off. He hadn’t even been able to threaten off little reef sharks when learning his displays as a child, and now he had dispersed an entire orca pod!
In a good mood, he swam after the bleeding human, who was somehow clinging to a buoyant piece of the ship even while unconscious, and dragged them to the beach. Morgan was careful in how he maneuvered the person onto the rocks—out of the water, the scent of blood was even more profound. They would surely be dead soon. He would have to get his fill of looking at them fast.
Once the person was securely on the beach, Morgan pulled himself out of the water, changing into his bipedal form without thought. He knelt beside the wretched human, whose body appeared to be covered with burns, and rolled them over onto their back to get a better look at them.
The clouds cleared from in front of the moon, strengthening her light. Miraculously, the human’s face was unburned. It was slack with unconsciousness but otherwise in perfect form.
Perfection. That was the word Morgan was looking for. He had never seen a more beautiful face—the long nose, smooth jaw, lovely high forehead, and sharp, sloping cheekbones. It was hard to tell in this light, but he thought the person’s hair might be red. What a glorious color. Morgan was transfixed, first with astonishment, then with fear.
Brevaer could never be allowed to find out about this.
Never.
Chapter four
Morgan couldn’t stop looking at him. The beauty of the man’s face was something he’d never expected—how could humans look so much like the Agnarra? Weren’t they brutish, as ugly on the outside as they were on the inside?
But this one was truly beautiful, with broad, elegant features and eyelashes so long Morgan couldn’t help but wonder about the eyes concealed beneath them. The man was nude, not wearing pieces of armor like the others had been—perhaps they’d burned away in the blast—and his form was long, lean, symmetrical …
Except for the burns.
Morgan felt sorrow in his heart even as he looked at the man. Surely he would die soon. Morgan didn’t remember much about people, but he did know they weren’t as tough on an individual level as an Agnarra. That was why they had to play terrible tricks and do unforgivable things in order to win. Burns this severe … they would test even one of Morgan’s kind. A human could have no hope of recovering.
I should leave him here. I’ve seen him; now it’s time to let him die in peace. But the light of the moon had never looked quite so lovely as it did when it was highlighting this poor man’s face. Morgan’s fingers itched with the urge to draw or sculpt him. Would anyone believe he’d imagined this face on his own when they saw it later?
Unable to resist, Morgan reached out and, very gently, ran his fingertips down the man’s forehead, over the bridge of his nose, then bump-bump over the curves of his lips. He tried to commit those curves to memory, feeling them out: the shape of his jaw, his smooth and lovely chin, his slender eyebrows, and the arch of his cheekbones. Morgan mapped the man’s face, more and more entranced with it, until finally he’d had his fill. He pulled his hands back, reluctant but ready to bid the poor soul farewell, and then—
The man’s eyes opened.
His eyes were like starlight.
Morgan couldn’t move, completely entranced by the person looking up at him. “Hello,” he offered after a moment, not sure what else he could say. Would the human rage at him? Spit on him? Prove once and for all that people like this weren’t a breed to be trusted?
No … he smiled. It was a faint, thin thing, but a smile nonetheless. He smiled, and Morgan felt like his heart flipped upside down in his chest. If he was beautiful when he was still, he was positively radiant when he smiled. Distantly, Morgan realized that the possibility of him coming out of this meeting unscathed had just gone way down because now … now he couldn’t leave. Not without doing everything he could to make this man comfortable.
“Do you hurt?” he asked. “You fell into the water after your people’s ship blew up. Is … are the burns painful?”
The human looked at him blankly. Morgan was confused at first, then put it together in a rush—of course, the human didn’t speak his language. This man had no idea what Morgan was saying.
“It’s all right,” he said, making his voice as reassuring as possible. “I’m going to make you feel better, all right?” He would start with a bed of cooling, slippery seaweed to lay the human on, then bind the rest of his wounds as best he could in the same.
Gathering the seaweed was easy enough, even in the dark—there was a special variety that promoted healing better than the others, and its strands were long and wide, simple to detect by feel. Morgan bundled it between his claws, then carried it up onto land, where—
Oof! It was a lot heavier when he took on his humanoid form! And … where to put it? He couldn’t leave the man out in the open like this—the birds would peck him to shreds. The overhang, though … that might do for a while. Morgan hauled the seaweed over there, then followed with the man, who was looking far less awake now than he had been a few minutes ago. His breath sounded raspy in his throat, a bit wheezy—perhaps he was thirsty.
Fresh water, fresh water … they were too far from the village’s spring for Morgan to fetch some from there, but perhaps the last rainfall had left some reservoirs here on the rocks. He shifted and hunted the smell of fresh water down, finding two small pools. Changing back into two legs, Morgan cupped his hands in the water and, very slowly, brought it back to the man.
He was barely awake now, but he managed to drink, first tiny sips, then enormous slurps once he realized what was being offered. “Yes, isn’t that nice?” Morgan said, feeling accomplished. “Let me get you some more.” He made the trip again, then again, and on the fourth time …
On the fourth time, the man was asleep. Or unconscious, but Morgan was going with asleep for now. It was gentler, somehow. He stared at him, resting peacefully on the seaweed, calm in the night air despite how it must make his human skin feel chilled …
Skin. The burns, right! Morgan grabbed the extra lengths of seaweed he’d pulled ashore and bound up the remaining burns, hoping that it helped. Saltwater wasn’t usually very nice in a wound, but the seaweed itself was a tried-and-true remedy. Hopefully, it would help more than it hurt. Now, what next?
“—gan!”
Morgan was so absorbed in his own thoughts, he barely realized that someone was calling for him until their voice was too close for comfort.
“Morgan!”
At least it was Garen and not Brevaer. Morgan climbed out from beneath the overhang as carefully as he could and dove into the water, transforming and swimming to the front of the beach a moment later. He poked his head out of the water and wriggled his ears at his best friend, who reoriented on Morgan the moment he saw him.
Yes. Leave the rocky section alone, pay attention to me here.
“What are you doing out here?” Garen demanded harshly, wading into the water and grabbing Morgan by one of his ears. Morgan whined pathetically. “It’s too late to go off by yourself, especially after everything that’s happened today. Do you want your brother to drag you back to the village by your tail?”
How was holding him by his ear any better!? Morgan whuffed irritably, then flipped his tail to splash Garen with a wave of water. His friend spluttered and dropped him, and Morgan swam far enough away to be sure that when he changed back, he wouldn’t immediately be tackled.
“I just wanted to see if I could find some pieces of the boat on my own!” he said. “Without Brevaer looking over my shoulder and shouting at me the whole time.”
“Your brother is just worried about you, Morgan. He only wants you to be safe, he—”
Morgan had had it with being lectured. “I don’t want to only be safe!” he snapped, splashing water at Garen with a humanoid arm. “I don’t want to be tucked away in our home and left to experience nothing but what my brother deems appropriate for all of my days. I don’t want to sacrifice my life for some imaginary ideal of security! And if you do, fine, then go back and listen to your mother, but it will only make my brother less likely to love you than he already is!”
Garen looked at Morgan like he’d just stabbed him through the heart. It took a moment for Morgan to realize the extent of what he’d just revealed—that he not only knew Garen was in love with Brevaer but also that Brevaer knew it and didn’t requite it.
He’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” Morgan said, reaching out to take Garen’s hand. His friend was already turning away, stumbling blindly toward the rocky beach. Morgan splashed after him, wrapping his arms tight around him before Garen could get away. They sank to their knees in the water, and when Garen began to shake, Morgan knew it was from crying even though he couldn’t see his face.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” Morgan babbled, desperate to fix things. “He does, he just … I don’t think anyone has caught his attention like that yet. That doesn’t mean no one ever will.”
“Just not me,” Garen said in a small voice.
“Ha, he would be lucky to end up with someone as wonderful as you.” Garen was one of the best people Morgan knew, kind to everyone, always ready to listen, and with a fierce desire to serve their village. So he was a bit blustery and occasionally grumpy—who wasn’t? “And I shouldn’t have talked about your mother either,” Morgan added. “I’m sorry.”
