As dawn spread a flush of colors across the weed-choked sea, the living crewmembers of the Dyscovera and the shades of drowned loved ones gathered with a somber purpose.
On the shadowy Luminara, Captain Shay gave a stern reproach to his spectral companions, and then called across to the Dyscovera. “It is dangerous for the living to stay among us. One of your crew is already lost to you, Mr. Vora—how many others might soon be tempted?”
Aboard a two-masted carrack that floated alongside the Luminara, Enoch Dey now stood with the revenant of Silam Henner. After being lured overboard into the deadly seaweed, Henner looked disconsolate, forever bound to the ghost ships and separated from the Dyscovera.
Criston raised his voice in answer from the bow of his own ship. “We do not belong here. We must continue our voyage. Lead the way.”
The night before, in the watery lantern-light of Captain Shay’s cabin, Criston, his father, and Shay had talked for hours, discussing memories and lost possibilities. At the same time, the ghosts of forlorn seamen had approached the Dyscovera, beseeching Tierran crewmembers to jump overboard. The undead sailors were aloof and carefree, no longer bound to the land or their families. Having already paid the price, they had nothing left to fear from the sea…yet their voices were lonely. After seeing the fate of Silam Henner, however, even those tempted by the offer were frightened.
Before Criston left the ghost ship in the dead of night, Captain Shay had warned in a quiet voice, “Leave now, Mr. Vora. Set your sails, hoist anchor, and be under way by the time the sun rises. The longer you stay among us, the more dangerous it will be for you. Once your ship gets trapped, there is nothing even in life or death I can do to help you.”
Cindon Vora was heartbroken. “I want to stay with you, my son, but I can’t accompany the Dyscovera, and I don’t want to condemn you to stay with us for eternity.” He embraced Criston. “I wish I could have watched you grow up, worked with you aboard my ship. We could have sailed the uncharted seas together.” He swallowed hard. “But wishes are like whitecaps. They fade quickly and leave nothing behind.”
Criston gave him a bittersweet smile. “I had thirteen years with you, Father. You trained me, and now I am captain of the finest ship in all Tierra. You need have no regrets.”
Before dawn, Criston and Sen Aldo had rowed back to the Dyscovera and met with the frightened crew. After they told him about the man lured overboard only to be killed by the seaweed, he felt angry and disappointed. “Prepare to sail,” Criston ordered. “Unless you’d like to stay behind, as Mr. Henner did.”
That was enough to put a chill into them, and the crewmembers went about their tasks, tugging ropes, stretching sails to catch the faint breeze. The Luminara would clear a channel through the unnatural seaweed and lead them out of the morass.
As the ships prepared to depart, Captain Shay’s shout could be heard by all the spectral seamen. “The living cannot stay among us. We simply have to wait for their company. If they are true sailors, they will join us here eventually.”
The ghostly Luminara moved ahead, her sharp prow cutting through the green strands to open a passage, and the Dyscovera threaded the needle behind her. All around them, Criston could smell the fermented stink of rotting vegetation, like the lingering odor of death. Somehow, it did not remind him of the stench of his own town during the annual seaweed die-off.
The Luminara guided them out to where the vegetation thinned. At the prow, Captain Shay looked anxious, as if racing to keep the Dyscovera safe. When the water finally opened up enough that Criston could turn to port and add more sail, the Luminara came about and tied up her sails.
Criston’s father waved from the deck. “May the Compass guide you, son. We are always here. We are part of the sea now.”
Captain Shay whistled. “Safe travels to Terravitae, Mr. Vora—I know you’ll find that land, even though we did not. If you need us, simply call. We are bound to you by magical ties much stronger than sympathetic magic.”
Prester Hannes maintained his stern composure, while other crewmembers wept to leave their loved ones behind. At the stern, Sen Aldo peered down at the Dyscovera’s wake, puzzled. “Captain, the seaweed is…twitching.”
Javian and Mia ran to look overboard. The young woman said, “That weed grabbed Silam Henner and dragged him under.”
“Best possible speed,” Criston called with rising concern.
As the Luminara rejoined the other ghost ships, the green fronds thrashed with more vigor. The tangled surface undulated, as if something were generating the waves from below. More and more strands of weed lifted into the air, like hair flailing in a violent breeze. Mysterious currents began to draw the Dyscovera back toward the seaweed morass.
Criston watched the seaweed clear beneath the water…and saw a huge pale shape just under the surface, so large that his imagination could barely encompass it. As it rose, the underwater blur became an enormous oval that resolved itself into a face, a titanic female face far larger than the Dyscovera.
The seaweed squirmed and twitched around the ship and Criston realized that the strands were her hair. This gigantic woman had lain submerged, drawing all the ghost ships to her and keeping them there as a strange collection.
As the Dyscovera kept sailing, breaking the strands of weedy hair, Criston yelled, “Add all possible sail—stretch every scrap of canvas!” He ordered them to use daggers and swords to cut the strands. The Dyscovera strained against the grasping weed, pulling free by the time the giant demon, or goddess, breached the surface. Her head was the size of a small island, and her eyes locked upon them like a cat’s upon its prey.
The crew screamed, and Prester Hannes prayed at the top of his lungs. “In the name of Ondun and Aiden, leave us in peace!”
Rather than rising farther out of the seawater, the titanic woman laughed, a huge sound like rolling thunder. “I am older than your Ondun or his sailor sons. I am patient. I can smell you. I see you. I know you are lifelong sailors. I have other collections of souls, just like these.” She smiled as the Dyscovera continued its frantic flight. “Most of you will come back to me, sooner or later. I will wait for you.”
She closed her eyes and lay back, submerging herself again as she continued laughing. She stirred up large waves that struck the Dyscovera’s hull, making the ship rock and sway like a dinghy in a rainstorm. The last strands of seaweed released them, and the vessel lurched ahead with new speed.
Criston’s throat was dry as he said, “What was that woman, Prester?”
Hannes stood close to the captain and shook his head, visibly terrified; his hands trembled as he grasped the wooden rail. “Nothing in the Book of Aiden ever prepared me for such a thing.”