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

Cursion leered at him across the way, but nodded his head in answer.

Ishmael smiled at Garrett. If your father’s vision proves true and you find yourself caught with a burden you cannot bear, might I suggest you give up your anchor, boy. He chuckled. Aye, sacrifice it to the Salted depths. No treasure is worth your own death, let alone a burdensome anchor. After you are freed of your chains, then let you go and find your burden again with a better plan to raise it.

Red Water speaks with wisdom, said Cursion. And similar words I sought to offer my son too.

Why didn’t you? Garrett asked. Why didn’t you tell me in your dream?

The Salt would not allow me, said Cursion. Whether quieting my voice, or deafening your ears, my son, you could not hear me no matter how I raged against the Salted tides to come and aid you.

Watawa stirred beside Garrett. How then did it end, high chieftain? Did the Salt hold sway over Garrett Weaver too?

Garrett’s insides twisted in wait for his Nomad father’s answer. All his fears and doubts melted away when Cursion smiled upon him.

No, said the Nomad high chieftain, his voice lifting with pride, even as he lifted his chin also to look upon his son. Much as I fought to reach my son, much as it pained me to fight my own battle to do so, it was not I to aid him. Cursion turned from Garrett, looking instead to Atsidi Darksnout. It was the Silent Hammer who came to my son’s rescue. Aye, and the might of our people after him to help free my son of his chains and bear the anchor hence.

With gleaming eyes, Cursion reached out to clap his hand upon the shoulder of Atsidi Darksnout. Squeezing, and offering a nod of acknowledgment to the Hammer chieftain, Cursion then looked back to Ishmael across the way. That is how I knew my son should return to us, Red Water. Even before my son left for the shore, I knew that I could not journey with him there. I believe now that our reunion with he and Silent Hammer is a part of my dream made true. Cursion nodded. Aye, for my son needed to go ashore and relieve himself of the anchor that tied him there. Under the watchful eye and protection of Atsidi Darksnout and his proud warriors, my son has returned to swim with us to war upon the Merrow king. Aye . . . and the people will help him carry us to victory upon the day that we arrive outside the gates of the pearled city.

Ishmael chuckled. So, you believe it your son to lead us, then? he asked. Why not you, high chieftain?

A true leader must know what it is to follow, said Cursion. I care not who wins the glory for our people, Red Water. All that I know and concern myself with now is that once my son were relieved of his burden, the people cheered and wept wherever my Orc-son and Silent Hammer swam.

And you believe their weeping is a sign of our victory to come? Ishmael asked, the mockery in his voice returned. A victory you took no part in?

The people cheered and wept, said Cursion White Shadow. And my son was unburdened of the chains that bound him. That were victory enough for me when my dream came to end.

Would that it were enough for me. Ishmael clucked his tongue. I too saw victory for our people in my dream, high chieftain. But my circumstance were far different than yours, and held no such hopeful allegiance to your son, or of him to our people.

Spoken like a true traitor, Watawa put in.

Peace, Open Shell, said Cursion. I have told my dream to the council.

The high chieftain looked toward the surface then. Though Garrett doubted his Nomad father could see through the darkness above them any better than he, Cursion White Shadow nodded all the same.

Aye, Cursion continued. And the light above has already faded to end this day and my story. He searched the water around them for any trace of light before looking to Ishmael once more. What say you, Red Water? What did you see in your vision?

Shadows and ghosts, said Ishmael quietly. Aye, and they swimming the dark tides to come. For all I know, they may be the same shadows as Watawa the Open Shell has preached on and on about with hopes his fears might consume us all. He smirked. In my dream, I too swam alongside the people, but it was our warriors that were the dark tide to crash against the gates and walls of New Pearlaya. It were many a life we took there too, but, like waves upon the shore, always we were repelled back before surging to strike at them again. And for all the times our wave crashed against New Pearlaya, the gates and city never foundered for our efforts.

Cursion shifted beside Garrett. You think your dream a sign we are to fail in the coming war, then?

No, said Ishmael, his eyes widening with conviction. For my dream were not yet ended there. No, I took that beginning as a sign of our history repeated, brethren. His gaze searched the others in their company. For as the old ones say, ‘Those who forget their past are oft doomed to repeat it.’ Ishamel shook his head. How many times have our tribes attempted to unite against the Orcs and Merrows? And for each and every attempt, we fall to in-fighting amongst ourselves. Aye, whether through fear, he looked to Watawa, then Atsidi Darksnout next. Or cowardice too, our people have fallen short of history and glory. No, brethren, in my nightmare, I saw myself matched against the same trappings as my father before me, our people failing to heed my words. Nor would they follow my actions to end the reign of Orcs and