Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Galvin, Aaron (classic fiction txt) 📖

Ishmael chuckled at that. You see, Garrett Half-Orc? He waved in off-handed direction of Cursion. Did I not tell you in our time together that your father was among the greatest of our warriors? Who better to boldly speak so to Red Water and live to tell the tale?

Garrett endured the taunt, his conscience warning to not give his former traveling companion any response or words for Ishmael to play with and possibly use against him.

Cursion spoke for Garrett instead. Let us have peace between us, then, he said to Ishmael. And let us speak to the reason we have all gathered and swim together, for that too concerns my son’s return as well.

Truly? Ishmael asked. What concern is it of ours that your Orc-son has returned, White Shadow? To my mind, your son lost any respect among the people when he chose to leave our company. Aye, say rather, his abandoning us with the knowledge we meant to swim against his Orc kindred and the Merrow king.

Atsidi Darksnout swam forward. Tell me, boy, he cut in, silencing Ishmael with a look. Do the people think less of me and my warriors for having swam toward the shore?

Ishmael scowled in reply. You were sent on assignment to take the child to shore . . . and you are a trueborn Nomad. Your blood is not tainted with that of our enemies, Silent Hammer.

No, said Atsidi Darksnout. And I advise caution with where you would cast judgement, Red Water. However highly you might imagine yourself to be among our ranks, you are still a bastard born of a Merrow mother.

You think me weakened by it? Ishmael challenged, his hand drifting toward the pommel of his blade. Come, then. Let us match our blades against each other for once and all, Silent Hammer. Or place a Merrow before me, if you would test my allegiance. It makes no matter the test, nor question, you raise in regard to my loyalty. I will pass them all the same in favor of our people.

Atsidi scoffed. No one doubts your lust for killing, be it Merrow, Orc, or even Nomad to die by your hand. And I said nothing of your blood being a weakness, Red Water. It was your mind alone to suggest such things. Aye, as you have long held to many other grievances also if only to keep the hatred within you stoked for more battles to come.

Ishmael chuckled at that. Aye, there are such fires within me as your newly peaceful mind could not imagine, old one. He patted the pommel of his sword. Or would you care to stoke your own old hatreds again and test your heat against mine?

Atsidi shook his head. Lest you forget where you are, boy, I would also advise you to take in your current surroundings. For though you are among those who may both walk ashore and breathe below, you are among the Nomads now, Red Water. Our people have no need of fires here. And less of you. For it be as you said already – our people require warriors. I should hate to deprive them of one so renowned a fighter as you champion yourself to be.

Garrett grinned at that. It broadened further when hearing the other Nomad chieftains snicker too.

Cursion swam between them all. Peace, brothers. We have a common enemy. Let us focus our efforts against them, rather than quarrel amongst ourselves. For I am both troubled and keen to know that Red Water has been gifted a vision, as I have. I would cease our arguing and learn if the dream he is given matches my own. Aye, and more to understand what both might mean for our people and the Salt.

Speak on, then, high chieftain, said Ishmael, glaring at Atsidi Darksnout once more before descending to swim alongside Short-Short and the Tigress chieftain. Tell me your vision and I shall offer you mine in turn. You seem to me untroubled by your own dream. Deep as we are now, I would gather there be a little daylight left above for us to hear it. My story is better saved for darkness when the shadows hold their sway.

Garrett snorted at Ishmael’s boast and his theatrics. With a powerful stroke of his Great White Shark tail, he descended alongside his Nomad father and with Atsidi Darksnout and Watawa too.

My vision is already realized, somewhat, Cursion White Shadow began. For my son’s return was at the heart of it.

His return this night, Ishmael put in, or when I delivered him to you in the Devil’s Triangle? It seems to me your son has a history now of leaving and returning.

Peace, boy, Atsidi Darksnout growled. Or none will hear your vision.

Ishmael cocked an eyebrow. Hear me not, Silent Hammer, and it will be you and all our people to suffer for the loss of me and mine.

I am suffering now, said Atsidi. Doubtless, the people will thank me for ending theirs before it arrives to plague them also.

Ishmael grinned again, before touching his chest and bowing his head toward Cursion White Shadow in a mockful show of humility. Forgive my questioning curiosity, high chieftain. It seems the old fires within me are not the lone blazes to burn. Please, continue.

Cursion did, his focus turning on Garrett for each and every word uttered. In my dream, I saw my son swimming in his Orc form, struggling to bear a great and tiresome anchor through dark and bloody waters. The undercurrents of the Salt raged against him. Chains were wrapped round his body also, sinking him deeper for each and every tail stroke he took in trying to ascend. On and on, my son fought to rise and bear his burden. On and on, he failed.

Garrett frowned at the sadness in the high chieftain’s voice, even as he could make no sense of the dream.

If I may, high chieftain, Ishmael cut in. A