The Roaming Sea - 15. The Sea, Pt. 1

Sleep continued to evade Callum. His mind wandered aimlessly—filled with incessant musings of unknown danger that could befall the vanguard. Imagining a grisly end of being caught by the sea, torn asunder. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that he finally nodded off, only to be awakened by a gentle nudge. Lamplight revealed half of Rym’s face, the other half lost to stark shadow. His large hand sat on Callum’s chest, rubbing softly.

“It’s time to go, pup,” he whispered.

Callum scrubbed at his face, groaning at the prospect of getting up when his body yearned for more rest. Presenting a knowing smile, Rym left to give him a moment to waken. Callum pulled the sheet away with a sigh and turned to get out of bed. His tall rucksack leaned against the wall, near to bursting with his only possessions and the extra provisions. Everything was ready. All he needed to do was get dressed, shoulder his belongings, and start walking. You’ll be fine once you’re up.

After a few minutes of inward complaining, he managed to follow through with the simple task, and jumped the short distance down from the barracks exit. The faintest hint of red hues lit the eastern tree-laden horizon, while some of the brighter stars still twinkled in the western sky. Dewdrops hung heavy on the long grass. The seabed, now devoid of water, fell away in a descending series of gentle slopes—falling to blackness in the dim light. Callum shuddered at the foreign sight.

Trills and warbles of early songbirds echoed from the trees. The crash of the sea had always overwhelmed them before. Their cheerful song—ignorant of the dangerous journey the vanguard was about to embark upon—strengthened Callum’s courage. As always, Eudald caught Callum’s attention with a dour stare. It was especially strong this morning, but once his feelings were made clear, he ignored Callum completely.

The twelve entered the warehouse that stored the prepared crates. Tightening the leather straps and buckles, each lifted their heavy burdens. Some stood with no trouble at all, whereas a few others—such as Cior—required a little help to steady themselves. However, once accustomed to the weight, the twelve pactrids stepped outside, surefooted and ready to proceed.

Katock addressed the crowd. “Cior has studied the map provided to us and produced his own copy. While I am still the leader of this vanguard, we will defer to Cior in all aspects of way-finding and navigation. Is that understood?”

The vanguard grunted in acknowledgement.

“Our destination is northwest of our location,” Cior said, “but it’s not a direct route. Obstacles in our way will force us to take an indirect path.”

“Any questions?” Katock asked.

Callum had too many. None that required an answer, of course, only idle musings to help tamp down his hesitation. Surely he’d learn everything he’d want to know in the coming days.

None of the other pactrids spoke up, so Katock raised a hand and signalled to move out. “Very well. Let us begin.”

He and Cior took the lead onto the narrow forest path. Each member followed in single-file fashion, disappearing under the dark canopy. Rym gestured for Callum to fall in line, and the pactrid followed behind. They trod their way down the zigzagging switchback trail. In contrast to the crashing waves two days ago, the stark quiet now made this place feel unfamiliar.

Upon reaching the beach, they negotiated around the fallen trees ravaged by the sea. The way ahead seemed no less foreboding from this position. A never-ending succession of sandy escarpments lay before him, each one plunging further into the earth.

“How deep does this go?” Callum pondered aloud.

Rym could only shrug in reply, then gave Callum a comforting pat on the shoulder.

The group spread out as they descended, finding it easier to step on freshly packed sand rather than trailing within the footsteps of their fellows. As the sun rose, its light reached a foggy horizon before finally hitting their backs. The fog ahead was no better than the darkness from before, and Callum found himself filled with an impatient longing to know what lay beyond. To his left and right was the same immeasurable, declining slope. Looking back the way they’d come and shielding his eyes from the sun, he stumbled in shock to discover how deep they already were. To know this vast abyss was recently filled with seawater prompted a sense of trepidation—once again aware they didn’t belong here.

As the morning wore on, rocky formations—black and craggy—emerged from the sand like a lost, buried city. The terrain’s steep angle began to level out, and in the distance, the tall rock pillars appeared to block their way forward. The sand under their feet thinned to reveal dark bedrock. This made for easier travel, and the team could pick up speed.

With the advancing pillars blocking their way, Cior led the vanguard northward to walk alongside them. The formations were unlike anything Callum had seen before. Rather than solid stone, they were comprised of intricate, interconnected webs. At the right angle, he could even see through them. Reaching out, he felt the texture of the surface, but an unexpected sensation had him immediately pull back. His finger was cut—not deep, but enough to draw blood. The edges of the pillars were jagged, like an unbroken line of serrated teeth.

To the east was the sandy slope upward, back to where land resided. Only now, the land had disappeared from view. The rising, undulating, sandy contours seemed to touch the blue sky. Callum couldn’t help but remain astonished by the bizarre landscape they travelled across.

As the falling sun drew long shadows from the rock pillars, those formations began to falter. It was as though a colossal fist had swept across from above, breaking the structures with ease. Remnants of broken stone filled what small gaps remained between the pillars, making it impossible to traverse had they been forced to take a route through.

Luckily, the northern trail they’d been travelling remained clear. And by day’s end, the pillars had all but dwindled away, finally providing the vanguard a more direct northwestern route. The bedrock was far from flat, however, requiring careful navigation around trapped pools of seawater.

Once the sun was nearly kissing the skyline, Katock ordered the vanguard to prepare to rest for the night. An audible groan of relief filled the air as each member crouched down to unstrap themselves from their heavy burden. Rym rubbed his shoulders, grimacing.

“I have something that might help your pain,” Callum said in a hushed tone, “but I don’t have enough for everyone.”

Rym offered a grateful smile. “Thank you, pup, but I can deal with this for now. Keep it until there’s a true need.”

The vanguard broke into smaller groups as they set up camp, such as it was—bedrolls under the stars. Knowing there’d be no wood for a fire, Callum made a point of packing a warm blanket.

“Rymolnd, Cal’oom,” Katock called out. “Come join Cior and I.”

They accepted their invitation, crossing by a small pool of water.

“I’ve often wondered what seawater tastes like,” Callum said as they sat down. “I know it’s salty, but how bad could it be?”

This brought on a rumble of laughter from the other three.

“Why not try it?” Katock said teasingly.

Four labourers sitting nearby overheard the conversation and turned to watch the outcome with droll grins—curious to see how the event would play out. Callum looked to Rym for counsel, but the pactrid only stared back, waggling his brows with a smirk. He’d never been one to give into peer pressure, but the weight upon him now felt palpable. Rising to his feet, he ambled over to the pool and ran his fingers over the surface. Glancing back to both groups yielded no more insight, but it was clear following through would end in laughter. If it was all in fun, though, he didn’t mind. Scooping water into his palm, he gave it a sniff, finding it surprisingly odourless.

“Use two hands,” one labourer said. “You’ll want a mouthful of water.”

Before giving it a second thought, Callum followed the instructions and slurped, only to immediately spit out once the brackish water touched his tongue. Raucous laughter rose from the two groups, followed by applause.

Callum couldn’t help joining in the laughter. “How can it be that salty?” he demanded, spitting again in an attempt to clear his mouth.

“Now you understand the reason to carry fresh water,” Rym said, reaching out for Callum to sit beside him.

Confused by the commotion, the third group watched from a distance, and Eudald caught Callum’s eye. The soldier’s frown spoke of displeasure—possibly jealousy?—that Callum had provoked laughter amongst the vanguard. The glance, though fleeting, felt like an eternity to Callum as he locked eyes with the surly pactrid. As much as Callum wanted to befriend the entire vanguard, he knew there was no way to please Eudald. If the rest of the crew had no problem having a human amongst them, that was good enough for him.

The air cooled noticeably once the sun had fallen below the horizon, however the bedrock—having baked in the sun all day—emanated a surprising amount of warmth. It couldn’t compare to snuggling against Rym, but Callum could wait. He knew once they’d reached the new land, there would be plenty of opportunity to be close to his friend. The anticipation brought on by their impending journey had finally broken, allowing Callum to fall asleep effortlessly. No doubt the exertion of the day played a part as well.

● ● ●

Bedrock plains, boundless in all directions, made for a monotonous trek the next day. The huff and strain of carrying such heavy loads left the vanguard bereft of conversation. More than once, a member had nearly tripped on the uneven stone, however the groups were gathered close enough to catch each other in the event someone fell.

The unchanging landscape continued into the third day. Callum pondered the idea of discovering a vast precipice—an endless void beyond that would force them to stop. This couldn’t go on forever, could it? Dark, menacing clouds loomed from the north, approaching the vanguard. At this point, he welcomed it. Anything to alter the uneventful few days would be appreciated.

Once the storm hit, however, he swiftly renounced his wish. Violent wind lashed at his face, pulling at his rucksack, trying to knock him down. Then the rain arrived. Instead of falling, it flew at the vanguard horizontally, attempting to blind them.

“Keep on!” Katock hollered over the maelstrom. “Slow and steady!”

The leader’s advice was taken to heart. Their footing on the bedrock became perilously slippery. Callum positioned himself clear of the surrounding members. The accumulated weight of a pactrid carrying a crate would easily crush him.

In any other situation, the sane decision would’ve been to seek shelter and wait out the storm, but the rocky plains offered no such protection. And progress, however sluggish, was better than none. They couldn’t afford to waste time. The Roaming Sea would wait for no one.

One benefit of a fierce storm was that they never lasted long, and this storm was no different. Within fifteen minutes, the wind had died down, and what rain remained was a gentle patter. The continued march in sodden clothes with the heavy rucksack on his back reminded Callum of his days at the academy. During basic training, they said tough conditions made for tough soldiers. Instructors would use any opportunity to create arduous situations for the recruits to suffer through. Even at that young age, Callum could appreciate their reasoning, but reckoned being in the middle of an active battlefield was enough encouragement to toughen even the meekest soldier. Thinking back to that moment now, he could only shake his head at such ignorance.

By late afternoon, the sun had returned in force, providing a few appreciative hours to aid in drying their damp clothing. That night was cold and uncomfortable, yet Callum still managed to sleep soundly after an hour of tossing and turning.

Noontide of the fourth day brought something new to the western vista, causing the vanguard to exclaim in wonder. A line of rock jutted out into the sky, like a giant scar through the incessant plains. Beyond the line revealed dangerous, ragged terrain—a maze of peaks and valleys.

Cior pulled the map free from his breast jacket pocket. “This is one area where our wayfinder expeditions are working to locate shorter routes.” He pointed north. “For now, though, we must go around.”

Without a point of reference, it was impossible to properly ascertain the grandeur of the ruined bedrock before them. Only upon reaching the base could they appreciate the towering structure—almost like a mountain range. Large fissures broke through the ridgeline, allowing access to the possibility of a shortcut Cior mentioned. Callum contemplated the bravery of those pactrids tasked to explore there. The potential of becoming lost or trapped was considerably high.

Continuing north, the vanguard steered around bluffs and gullies. Sunlight fell behind the peaks, drawing lengthening shadows across the flat bedrock to the east. That didn’t stop Katock, however. He kept them marching until the sky was reduced to dark blues and purples, finally halting the troop upon spotting a flat area suitable to camp for the night.

A series of nooks recessed into the ragged stone walls provided more privacy than their previous nights, allowing the members to use them as makeshift privies. Callum had to travel a little farther along the line to find one for himself. Once he’d completed his business, he popped out of the recess to find a silhouette blocking his way back to camp. The dim light was no help to reveal who it was.

“Rym?” Callum asked meekly.

“No,” a voice rasped. It was Eudald.

Callum swallowed. “I don’t want trouble. I don’t mean you any harm.”

“You say that, but I don’t believe you. I know the truth. Hate guides the human heart. You’ve fooled them all, but not me.”

“I understand why you feel this way—”

“You understand?” Even in the dark, it was clear Eudald was speaking through clenched teeth. “You understand nothing, human. You cannot appreciate the pain and suffering your kind has caused us. You force us to leave our home in order to survive. You do not belong amongst us.”

As the soldier spoke, Callum tried to skirt his way around. But with each step, Eudald moved to block his advance. Callum considered running or yelling for help, but fear of what Eudald might do in response kept him from following through. Reasoning with the soldier felt like his only option, but Callum wondered if he could determine the correct words to uncover Eudald’s empathy. Did the soldier have any empathy left to give?

“I never wanted this war,” Callum said. “Even as a child, I felt it was wrong.”

“You’re still a child.”

“Maybe to your eyes I am, but that makes no difference. I’m a medic for a reason. I want to heal, not hurt.”

Eudald’s looming silhouette remained silent.

“You need to understand the humans in power told us terrible lies. They said pactrids were invading our land, and we needed to defend it. When Rym told me the truth, showed me the truth through his eyes, I wept.”

“You want tears? I’ll show you the real truth!”

The soldier advanced upon him, closing the space with terrifying speed. Callum cried out, a wordless bleat that echoed off the craggy ridge. Before he could pull his knife free—a futile weapon against such a foe, but it was all he had—Eudald slammed his hands onto Callum’s head.

A blinding flash of light stunned Callum and he collapsed. Burning, acrid vapours overwhelmed his senses. Eudald’s grip remained firm, holding him down, but Callum was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Scattered images, from Eudald to Callum, tore across his vision. A glint of sunlight off a sword’s keen edge. Countless Anberan soldiers encircling him, overpowering and knocking him down—clambering atop him like savage animals. His wild thrashing did nothing to hold them at bay. Hands ripped off his protective armour. Stabbing and slashing. So much blood.

As violently as they came, the visions ended. Callum lay on his side, blind, groping in the dark, gasping for breath. The sound of violence continued, however. Meaty, wet wallops assaulted his ears. Savage grunts of effort came with each blow. Overlapping yells, difficult to comprehend, grew louder as they approached. Callum’s vision returned, but he struggled to make out details of the unfolding melee due to the oppressive gloom. One pactrid sat on the chest of another, throwing wild punches at an unguarded face.

“Stop this immediately!” Katock bellowed as he charged at them, pulling the assailant off his victim.

“No!” Rym cried, trying to free himself from Katock’s grip.

A lone lantern swung frantically, throwing stark shadows before breaking through the throng of onlookers to light the area. One labourer aided Katock in controlling Rym’s flailing arms, while another reached Eudald to assess the damage. The soldier moaned incoherently at the touch. Having regained his wits, Callum crawled backward before stumbling against someone’s feet. It was Cior. The scout crouched down to help Callum stand on wobbly legs.

“What happened?” Cior whispered.

“Eudald. He—” Callum groaned as another flash of blinding light filled his vision. The smell of burning in his nostrils persisted, followed by sharp splinters of pain in his head. Cior sat him down again, using a steady hand to hold him.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“He cornered me. He touched my head, showed me things.”

“He performed a gutach on you?” Cior asked.

It wasn’t until Cior spoke the word did Callum remember it, and he nodded. His experience with Rym’s shared vision was nothing like this. Rym’s touch had been heedful, his visions soft and gentle.

“How do you feel?” Cior asked.

“Headache.”

“Fear not, Cal’oom. It will pass shortly.” The scout laid a tender hand atop Callum’s head, causing him to flinch. It was only after a moment Callum realised the touch was meant to soothe him, nothing more.

The labourer helped Eudald to sit up. Blood marred the soldier’s face. Rym had finally calmed down enough to allow Katock a moment to judge Eudald’s condition. The leader then turned a dark gaze upon Callum.

“What did you do to provoke Eudald?”

Cior replied before Callum could state his case. “The human did nothing. What happened here was due to my poor judgement. I knew of Eudald’s mistrust of the human. However, after speaking to him and Cal’oom, I thought they would keep their distance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cior hung his head down. “I felt the matter was dealt with and didn’t want to trouble you.”

Katock turned his attention to Eudald. “Our first meeting, I asked you if the human would be a problem, and you said no. Explain your actions.”

The soldier turned his head to spit blood. “Humans don’t deserve to be amongst us. We’re escaping their kind, yet one travels with us? This makes no sense.”

“You know this human is different,” Katock said. “He was cleared by a gotachi. He has the pass—”

“He could’ve stolen it,” Eudald cried.

“No, he didn’t,” Rym said. “I was there when the gotachi gave it to Cal’oom. He passed the test. He proved his worth.”

Katock nodded. “I also tested Cal’oom’s worth to be part of our vanguard, and he did not disappoint me.” He gestured to the pactrids around him. “I ask you all. Has this human ever given you pause, shown ill motive toward us?”

The members glanced at each other, then shook their heads in reply.

“And you, Eudald. Tell me what this human has done to you to deserve such hate.”

“He’s human!” the soldier bellowed, bloody spittle flying. “He doesn’t belong amongst us.”

Katock let out an audible sigh and turned his gaze back to Cior. “I’m incredibly disappointed you never told me this. Had I known, I would’ve barred Eudald from joining.”

Livid, the soldier tried to stand but instead fell to his knees. “You’d bar me instead of this asafari?”

“Watch your tone!” Katock growled. “This human has shown qualities worth admiring. Your blind hate makes you ugly. If we were closer to the settlement, I would order you to leave.”

Callum couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew Eudald would never completely trust him, but he was hoping they’d come to some kind of truce over time. Now, that felt impossible.

Hearing Katock’s words, Eudald stared back in utter disbelief. He turned to regard his comrades, seeking support, but found none. Realisation drew across his bloody face, as though he were questioning everything he believed.

The silence was deafening.

Despite everything, Callum couldn’t help but feel pity for the soldier. Eudald’s hate, while misguided, was founded in truth. A small part within Callum now understood that hate. The soldier’s visions had shown he’d nearly died. How had he escaped such a dire situation? It didn’t matter. The damage, both mental and physical, was done. That tragic moment had sown a deep hatred—a toxic seed—that would likely live within Eudald until his death.

“Can you stand?” Cior asked.

“I think so,” Callum replied, allowing the scout to help him up.

Treading a wide arc to keep his distance from the soldier, Rym approached them. “Are you hurt?”

Subtle remnants of stabbing pain caused Callum to rub his temples, and Cior replied for him. “Eudald performed an aggressive gutach upon him.”

Rym glanced back at the soldier with bared teeth. “I should’ve killed him,” he muttered.

“Don’t say that,” Callum said. “It makes you no better than him.”

Rym stared long and hard, considering his words. Even in the dim light, his silver eyes sparkled.

“Still,” Callum continued, “I appreciate you saving me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner.”

Rym reached out to comfort him, however Callum took his hand to inspect the damage. His knuckles were torn and bloodied.

“Let me treat this for you,” Callum said.

The pactrid offered an elusive smile. “Very well, medic Cal’oom.”

Even though the vanguard members disagreed with Eudald’s behaviour and sentiment toward Callum, it didn’t leave them heartless. The twelve returned to camp as a group, with two aiding the soldier back to his bedroll.

“I should help Eudald as well,” Callum whispered to Cior and Rym as he lit a lantern. “It’s my responsibility.”

Cior scoffed at Callum’s determination to do right, then shook his head. “You are an equal part of this vanguard, yet he assaulted you. Let him suffer as punishment for his actions.”

“I’m sorry you got in trouble, Cior. I hope Katock won’t be angry for long.”

The scout bestowed a gracious bow of the head, then looked to Rym. “You are a lucky one. Try to get some rest, my friends.”

“And you,” Rym replied, watching Cior return to his bedroll while Callum dug out medical supplies from his rucksack.

“Show me your hand,” Callum said.

Rym complied, stretching out his fingers palm down to reveal the damage. Pouring a small amount of his drinking water onto a cloth, Callum dabbed at Rym’s hand, wiping away the now drying blood. Some of it belonged to Rym, some not.

“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve you,” Rym murmured.

A smile broke across Callum’s lips. “You’re the one who saved me, remember?” He popped open a vial, catching a whiff of its antiseptic properties, then poured an ample amount onto a clean section of cloth. “This will sting.”

Once again, he gently dabbed at the open wound. Rym sucked in air through his teeth, but his hand remained still while Callum worked. Gauze was wrapped across his wide hand, then looped around his fingers to keep it tight against his skin.

“You’re a good patient,” Callum said as he tied it off and patted the pactrid’s wrist.

Making a fist to test the bandage’s flexibility, Rym replied, “You’re a fine medic.”

“Anyone could’ve done that.”

“Having you accomplish the task makes it special to me. Thank you.”

Callum winced as another spur of pain shot through his head.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that, pup.”

“Cior said it would stop soon.”

“It will.” Rym lay down on his bedroll, patting for Callum to join him, then doused the lantern.

The dim glow of other lanterns nearby and the hushed tone of conversation amongst the others made it feel—if just for a moment—they weren’t resting at the bottom of a seabed. Callum snuggled close, and a strong hand held him tight against Rym’s body.

Oh, how I’ve missed this.

Knowing the others were likely aware of this show of intimacy brought a small sting of embarrassment, but it was swiftly overpowered by his want—his need—for Rym’s touch. Callum knew that, by this point, their relationship wasn’t a secret. It baffled him that none appeared surprised or disgusted by their pairing.

“What did Eudald show you?” Rym asked, his deep voice rumbling through Callum.

The question brought the violent imagery back to the forefront, turning his stomach. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I understand. Sleep, pup. I’ll keep you safe.”

Callum’s heart sang, and his eyes stung with tears. Please, never let me go.