letting the rage burn and grow inside me, and then I fly through the door into the great shell, following Han'Ruu. Before I can catch him, my momentum runs out and I land running. Here, within the bowels of my ship, my sapphire will not aid me, my drakruu cannot help me.
I follow Han'Ruu deeper and deeper into the ship, letting my anger grow hotter, preparing myself for what is about to come.
I find him at the bottom of the ship, in a room that protrudes outward from the kiasheen and over the water. This room was locked before. It is locked no longer.
Han'Ruu stands over the pool of water at the base of the shell, over the wild rakam thrashing there, their teeth scraping against the walls of their prison. His back is turned to me, his voice is soft. "I am of the Ruu," he says.
"I know," I say, taking a step forward, my blade lowered. "Why did they banish you?"
"I loved a woman," he says, turning his face to me, his eyes red and weary. "All we wanted was a home together, a family. Children we could call our own. You understand, don't you, Dak'Ra?"
I pause at the sound of my true name. "You know who I am," I say, the fire cooling within me. I think of Calla and let it rage once more. "Then you know I cannot allow this."
"Why not? We were both banished," he roars. "We were both thrown to the seas, left to scavenge and scrape to survive. This was my ship, and I took it back after my first mother said I was no son of Ruu. Now, I take what I must, not because I wish to, but because they made me so. The Ra family did the same to you. You search for La'Kia because of them. You lost her because of them."
My mind drifts to La'Kia, to the sound of her laughter and the smell of her hair, and I imagine her warm embrace, her tender lips, and the way we lay atop the great mountain and talked of the children we would have and the dreams we would make real.
I take a breath, and let the image fade. I will not think of La'Kia when I do what comes next. I take a step forward. "We are not the same."
Han'Ruu sighs, and the weariness leaves his face, like a man who has had a great weight lifted, like a man who has been told he may come home. We exchange twelve moves, our blades ringing as shouts grow closer, as the rakam twist and snap and splash. Han'Ruu is fast, skilled in in his way of Ratat, but I am faster, and on the thirteenth move, I pierce his belly. He falls to his knees, groaning and whimpering. The pain makes a boy out of man. "Sa'Ra," he mutters, voicing the name of his love. "Moon of my heart. The waves bring me home." He looks up at me. "Give me the quick death, brother."
I raise my blade to his neck. I could end it now, but Calla's bloody smile flashes in my mind.
I raise my foot and kick him backwards into the water.
In the depths, where the rakam are faster and stronger, they do not worry about killing. They eat their prey alive. Some say, you die from the pain before the wounds.
7
BLUE EYES
After a battle, when the blood rush fades, you are left with the ghosts of those you have killed. For me, it is harder than the killing—there is too much blood lust and battle cry to think on such things then, but in the end, when the calm returns and humanity settles back into you… in the end, you remember that you are alone in your mind, and you must live with what you have done.
I should not have given Han'Ruu to the rakam, but he had killed Calla and enslaved Vasa and so many others. I wanted him to suffer. A part of me hopes he suffers still in the Deep Mother's embrace.
Kanen's crew killed the rakam hidden in the bowels of the larger ship; their heads and skins and meat will fetch a nice price at trade.
The crew cleaned themselves and the decks of blood. Those who were injured received medical care, often in the form of strong sea swill.
Many songs were sung and many tears were shed and many toasts were shared over clinking cups.
I saved my tears for Calla, whose friendship extended to so many, who