章 8: Chapter 8 - Vlachy the Eternal
I could hear them whispering behind my back. The crew was afraid of me; they no longer looked at me with curiosity and a hint of desire in their sunken, hollow eyes. Fear gripped them now, fear of the misunderstood, the unknown. Even Bonnie who I came to like, adore even, and consider a friend, now held nothing more than suspicion and a healthy dose of distance toward me.
Edward was the only one entirely unbothered by me, if not slightly angry I refused to tell him the whole truth of who I was, what I was made of.
Admitting to him I didn't know myself was not an option. Vectra taught me many things about Sensibles, chief amongst them: Never reveal your weaknesses to them.
We were beings of higher calling, serving them, yes, but there were tiers to our service. One of them, quite high on the ladder of their worship had to be the purpose of lifting them up from their sad little lives. They needed to know beings like us did exist, they were never created to understand us or to know us; Their comfort and respect had to come from the lack of knowledge.
That included us, apparently. The Assigner had a better way of explaining it, but even if he summoned the most magnificent of words, I never knew why he kept it a secret from us.
From me.
I assumed my twin and I were created from the same cosmic matter, the divine stardust tamed and molded by the Assigner, but I could never be sure.
We were so different, Ari and I.
By the time I began thinking about it, it didn't matter anymore.
What right did a lowly pirate have to know me if I had none to know myself?
***
We stepped off the gangway and into the bustling heart of Aazor, the port city on Valorian that throbbed with life like a beating heart in an otherwise calm chest. The cobblestone streets teemed with people from all walks of life: merchants hawking their exotic wares, sailors swaggering with the bravado only the sea could bestow, drunkards slumped against the walls with bottles clutched like lifelines, and prostitutes whose painted smiles never quite reached their eyes.
The air was a rich tapestry of aromas; the tang of brine mingling with the pungent scent of spices. Food stalls lined the thoroughfare, each offering culinary delights unknown to the untraveled palate. I eyed skewers of sizzling kryth meat, its juices hissing as they hit the coal, and bowls of writhing shilworms, a local delicacy said to taste like the ocean's secrets. Pots of zephyr stew bubbled merrily, the steam carrying hints of wild herbs—Sydrian thyme and crushed Vellarian leaves, famed for their healing properties when brewed into a tea.
Bonnie tried to give me the rundown of the culture, but I was so nauseated from the constant rocking of the boat, none of it really stuck.
"Captain Kinsley," I ventured, my curiosity stirring as much as the stew before us, "how did you come to meet Neptune?"
He smiled, a glint of far-off memories dancing in his eyes. "Ironically, right here in Aazor. He was pretending to be a fishmonger, reeking of Lyviatan guts, but there was something about him... I took to him immediately."
"Even though he smelled like fish?" I teased, dodging a child chasing a runaway grifflefruit down the street.
"Especially because of it," Kinsley chuckled. "In this line of work, you trust a man who knows his catch. Only, I had no inkling he was the king of the seas."
"None at all?"
"None," he affirmed. "By the time I learned the truth, Salacia, his wife, was already plotting a coup." His smile faded, replaced by a hardened edge.
I reached out, my fingers brushing against the rough fabric of Edward's sleeve, a silent offer of solace in the wake of his dark recollections. He recoiled as if I'd struck him, his eyes snapping to mine with an intensity that froze me.
"Don't," he hissed under his breath, glancing around nervously. "Here, gestures mean more than you think. Touching is... it's not done lightly, didn't Bonnie prepare you?"
"Why?"
His gaze held mine, fierce and urgent. "On land, people are bound by different tides. They're conservative, Mila. If they see us touch, they'll assume things. That we're married."
"Married?" I stuttered, taken aback by the severity of his tone.
"Exactly. And if they find out we're not..." He trailed off, a shudder running through him. "They have ways of dealing with such... indiscretions."
"Like what?" My voice was barely above a murmur, my mind racing with images of old-world punishments.
"They'd hang us by our genitals upside down," he said matter-of-factly, though the disgust was evident on his face. "And then, let the Piscos have their fill."
"Piscos?" The word felt alien on my tongue, laced with danger I couldn't comprehend.
"Little fuckers," Edward deadpanned, a grim shadow passing over his features. "Trust me, you don't wanna ever encounter them, much less allow them to think you're food."
I tucked my hands firmly into the folds of my cloak, ensuring they wouldn't accidentally betray us again.
***
It was a strange relief to be on solid ground again, even if it was just a mere speck of Valorian territory, surrounded by the vast expanse of undulating ocean.
"Stay close," Edward cautioned over his shoulder, weaving between merchants hawking their wares and sailors spouting tales of the sea. I followed him, trying not to gawk at the myriad of colors and sounds that filled the air.
We reached the fringes of the city where the crowd thinned and the buildings grew sparse. There, nestled between a craggy cliff face and the sea, lay a cluster of modest dwellings unlike any I had seen before. They were an eclectic mix of fabric, wood, and repurposed ship parts, artfully arranged as though they'd sprouted from the earth itself.
"Who lives here?" I asked, curiosity piquing as my gaze wandered over the curious settlement.
"Vlachy," Edward replied, his voice carrying a note of respect. "They are travelers by nature, belonging to no nation. Like the Nereid of the land, Neptune used to say."
"Do they have powers?" My voice barely rose above a whisper, half in awe, half in fear.
"Some of them, yes." Edward's eyes met mine, steady and reassuring. "If there's a way to help your brother, the Vlachy will know what to do."
I nodded, swallowing the lump of hope and trepidation that lodged in my throat. For my brother, I would walk into the unknown, lower myself before Sensibles if need be.
The cobblestone roads gave way to beaten dirt paths, Edward took the lead, guiding us to where the Vlachy made their home. These edges were quieter, the bustle of the town center a distant hum, replaced by the hushed whispers of the wind through the canvas tents and makeshift shelters.
We stopped before a tent larger than the rest, its entrance flanked by totems I had never seen before in my life.
There stood a woman conversing with a little boy dressed in rags, giving him a doll made of hay with pins in it.
Her eyes fell upon Edward, and her lips twisted into a scowl.
"Oh fuck no," she spat, her voice rasping like dry leaves against stone. "Leave this place immediately."
Edward's charm unfurled like a flag in the breeze. He stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Soilen, I come not for myself today," he said, his tone smooth as silk, "but for this young woman. She seeks aid for her beloved."
A protest clawed its way up my throat, but before it could escape, Edward's gaze pinned me silent. His eyes held a warning clear as day: trust in his words, in the role I had to play. I clenched my jaw, stifling the truth that sought to betray his carefully woven narrative.
"I do not care which whore of yours needs help, Captain. You will leave us."
"She is not my whore, you should know better who my heart belongs to," Edward frowned. "She is a friend in need. The same need I was in. Her husband fell ill. She needs your help, Mother."
I ogled Edward wandering if the greeting meant she was his biological mother, or if she was simply the mother of the clan. I doubt he would ever tell me even if I asked.
Soilen's eyes narrowed, studying the coins Edward offered with a skeptical glint. "The witch will speak to her," she conceded, her voice gruff, as she snatched the money from his palm. The jingle of coin was a harsh sound in the quiet that surrounded us.
"Thank you," I murmured, though my gratitude was more for the progress than for her acceptance.
Without another word, Soilen turned and beckoned me forward with a gnarled finger. Her movements were slow but deliberate, each step measured as if walking on sacred ground. She pulled back the heavy canvas flap of the tent, and a strange mix of incense and damp earth wafted out to greet us.
I hesitated at the threshold, the shadows within promising secrets and mysteries beyond my understanding. Edward nudged me gently from behind, and I stepped into the dim interior, the daylight shrinking away as the flap fell closed behind us.
"Remember," Edward whispered, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in close, "they have a thing for doomed lovers. Let them think the help is for your beloved."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, both from their intimacy and the implication of our deceit. It was not in my nature to lie.
First time for everything, I guess.
***
The moment we stepped inside the dimly lit tent, a pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils, causing them to flare in quiet protest. The scent was sour and earthy, an amalgamation of herbs and roots that didn't belong together yet somehow coexisted in the steaming cup clutched within Rhona's gnarled fingers.
"Rhona, this is Mila," Edward began, his voice unexpectedly reverent in the presence of the witch. "She's a friend in dire need of your... expertise."
The witch's gaze, sharp as the edge of a scythe, sliced through the semi-darkness and fixed upon me. She sat cross-legged on the fur of a mountain wolf, regal and unyielding, her eyes reflecting the flickers of the small fire before her. It was as if she drew strength from the flames themselves, their dance mirroring in the depths of her ancient irises.
"Sit," she commanded, not unkindly but with the authority that brooked no argument. I obeyed, lowering myself onto the cushioned ground opposite her, my heart thumping an erratic rhythm against my ribcage.
"Your hair," Rhona said, her voice laced with the gravelly tones of hushed power. "One strand."
Hesitation knotted within me, the request simple yet unnervingly intimate. Yet, there was something in her expectant silence that compelled obedience. My fingers trembled as they lifted to my head, sifting through the strands until one came away, a singular piece of my essence held delicately between thumb and forefinger.
I extended my hand, offering up the filament of my being to the witch of the Vlachy, and watched as she took it, her touch surprisingly warm against the chill of my skin.
Her fingers closed around it, and with a swift, fluid motion, she cast it into the fire. The strand curled and twisted before vanishing in a wisp of smoke, as if consumed by an unseen hunger.
"Your heritage," Rhona murmured, peering through the veil of smoke as though it were a window to another world. "The blood of the Vlachy runs thick within you, tangling the threads of fate."
"That's impossible," I countered, the words dropping like stones from my lips. "I am not of Vlachy descent." My heart thrummed with a silent plea that this was indeed a mistake.
Rhona's gaze did not waver, and the shadows seemed to cling to her like devoted servants. "The elements never lie," she intoned. "I cannot answer your question. It is forbidden to cast spells on a fellow Vlach."
A knot tightened in my chest. It was vital that I find Isla Rhea, for my brother's life hung by a thread, his very breaths counted and precious. "I seek Isla Rhea," I confessed, keeping my voice low enough that Edward, lingering just outside the dim circle of light, might not catch the weight behind my words. "It is said to hold the key to saving my br-beloved."
The witch's eyes narrowed slightly, and she took a slow sip from her cup, the sour scent permeating the air between us. "Sacred ground, Isla Rhea is," she began, her voice taking on a note of reverence and warning. "Untouched by all but the deceased king of the seas. His personal paradise, forbidden to all others."
My hopes flickered and dimmed like the flames before us.
"There is one other option," Rhona said.
"Speak," I begged.
"We have long been in need of a leader. The last Vajda of the Vlachy had been cursed by a Celestial generations ago. We haven't had one since."
"Why do you assume I could be your leader?" I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Because it will save your brother," she said. I trembled, trying to hide my surprise.
"I didn't tell you I was seeking to help my brother. I said beloved," I replied tersely.
Rhona gathered a fistful of earth into the palm of her hand and tossed it into the fire. "He is both," she proclaimed.
Edward chuckled beside me, poorly hiding his smile behind the fist pressed against his lips.
"What shall I do?" I asked.
"Only the Vajda has the power to summon the White Snake. He will grant you your wish and heal your brother."
My heart sank again. The Assigner poisoned Ari and then left him to die. Even if Rhona was correct and the Vajda had the power to compel a favor out of him, the moment he'd see my face, he'd surely find a way to get out of that obligation. Maneuvering out of deals was his specialty.
"I'm sorry. I cannot be your Vajda," I said, thanked her and left.
***
Edward gently took my arm and led me away from the witch's tent, from the Vlachy's homestead, the weight of unanswered questions bending my shoulders. The scent of smoldering herbs lingered in my nostrils as we stepped into the cool air.
"Enough of this," I said, pulling away slightly. "You've taken me as far as our agreement stated—the port, Edward. You can leave."
He halted, a smirk playing on his lips, an infuriating habit he had when he knew he was about to be annoyingly charming. "Perhaps I like your company."
"Quit it, Captain," I insisted, feeling a mixture of irritation and weariness seep through me. His presence, though often grating, had become a constant in the chaotic pursuit of my brother's salvation.
"Besides," he continued, his tone shifting towards something more serious, "you need a dragon's heart to heal your brother."
I perked up at those words, my heart skipping with a surge of hope I hadn't expected to feel again so soon. "Great," I said, trying to mask my eagerness with nonchalance, "where do I get it?"
The revelation unfurled from his lips with a casual flippancy that made my patience boil.
"It's aboard my ship, hidden in a crate Bonnie is currently hiding and tending to."
In the space between heartbeats, I registered the words, processed their meaning—and reacted. My hand, swift and unthinking, cut through the chill breeze and landed a stinging slap across Edward's cheek. The sound cracked between us.
"You had the thing that can heal Ari and didn't tell me?" My voice was a blade, sharp with betrayal and edged with incredulity. I could feel the heat of anger flushing my cheeks, the tight coil of desperation unwinding into a frenzied energy.
Edward's face turned back slowly to face me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he shrugged, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a rueful half-smile. "Why should I? I didn't know who you were. Besides, charity is not exactly my forte."
His nonchalance fanned the flames of my fury. How dare he toy with something as vital as my brother's life? How dare he stand there, exuding arrogance while holding the key to Ari's salvation so carelessly within his grasp?
"Charity?" I echoed, my tone laced with scorn. "This isn't about alms, Captain. This is about life and death—my brother's life." His eye met mine, and I searched for a flicker of understanding, some sign of humanity behind those guarded depths.
But all I found was the impenetrable resolve of a man who had long ago built walls around whatever heart he might have possessed. For a fleeting second.
"I am seeking to resurrect Neptune and the Vlachy consider that an abomination, they won't help me."
"Disobeying death is an act of abomination. And arrogance," I retorted, pulling Bonnie's shawl tighter around my shoulders.
"But since I just learned a peculiar truth about you, Celestial, I have decided to share the heart with you and save your brother. If you perform the ritual to resurrect Neppie."
I snorted. "I am not a Vlach."
"Rhona is never wrong. And never lies," he reiterated her words. "Perhaps your mother or your father fucked a Celestial and that's how you were born, you just don't know it."
"Even if that were true, I wouldn't know how to perform your ritual."
"No need, I know what to do. I just need a Vlach to do it."
I sighed, my chest filling with irritation. Bargaining with a Sensible, and a pirate at that.
"There are side effects to resurrection, Captain," I cautioned. "He might not come back exactly as he was. You might be disappointed."
He smiled, all teeth and joy. "Oh, so you do know how to perform resurrection."
"It's forbidden in Millennia too," I said. "The Assigner is the only one who grants or takes life."
"But you've already violated rules and being as desperate as you are, I'm guessing the Assigner is the one who exposed your brother to radiation."
I looked away, trying to desperately hide my anger.
Edward leaned closer, taking me by the shoulders. "Fuck him, I say," he grinned. "If we weren't willing to defy the divine, we'd forever be beholden to its whims and unhappiness."
"How do you know the divine is unhappy?"
Edward scoffed. "Mila," he purred, "if you knew for a fact that everybody hated you, wouldn't you be?"
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