King Tide Carnival
Chapter 6 of "A Shattering of Souls", book 4 of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles
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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles and A Sword for Wellington. It now concludes with A Shattering of Souls. New here? This is a Regency-set fantasy romance adventure with shapeshifting sea dragons, where our cast search for Arthurian treasures to save the world from ecological collapse. Save this post, go subscribe (you’ll get the first two seasons in an e-book) and then have a binge read of the rest. You deserve it.
A little reminder that sources will be listed in bold. There are dates included as well, as I have needed to go back and forth in time to pick up the threads of someone’s part in this story due to the fact that we have multiple journals in play this time around.
Throughout 1817, we discovered the cause of Llyr and Eidothea’s estrangement. Jasper assists Eidothea in the search for Ondine, but has resumed investigating what it means to be the Fisher King in her Court. Dreigiau môr are also being taken, as are many Gifted. The Devenishes returned to the UK with Wellington at the end of 1818. And um, if you read this far, Maeve is back. Sort of.
We now return to Miss Luned Murray and the year 1819. We met her in a short story about the Gifted at Sea. She is a lieutenant in the British Navy, who is Gifted. She serves on the Acheron, a search and rescue vessel.
Miss Luned Murray’s Journal
Dover, 20th January, 1819
It is days like these when I need to write down in detail what has happened.
Last night, fog swirled about my ankles. Dew drops captured in the wool of my grey pelisse glittered in the gaslight. I tightened my Norwich shawl around my shoulders, giving up the effort when icy dew stained my woollen gloves, chilling my palms.
Ahead, the King Tide Carnival swirled in joyous sounds and colours at the end of the pier. Citizens thronged toward the festival, drawn like moths to the garish, bold colours.
My fellow crew members and I disembarked our Aetheric Dirigible and headed that way also, leaving our rescue ship tethered to the pier, anchored to prevent damage to any structures around it in case the predicted storm blew in. Everybody had shore leave tonight. No fool would be so unwise to venture forth on the seas with such a massive king tide, and if they did, their bodies would not be discovered until the morrow.
The sea lapped against the long pier. Beneath my feet, the familiar drumming of ocean waves lapped at the floorboards. Fog concealed everything not a few feet from us.
Unseen, larger ships stood far off the coast, riding out the king tide’s great rollers.
I walked alongside Captain Ballard, my Julian, behind the rest of the Aetheric Dirigible Crew. Ahead, Dr. Corinne Pelletier chattered gaily to Mr. Marsh, the coils of her black hair gleaming in the gaslight in contrast to his blond oiled queue.
The doctor squealed spotting a man waiting for her ahead. She ran to him, flinging her arms around the auburn-haired man’s neck and kissing him. His arms caught her, turning to hide their kiss from her fellow crew.
I had no need to adjust the length of my stride. I’d been studiously ignoring Captain Ballard, but shot a glance in his direction. His profile—lean, hawk-nosed, the clipped red-gold beard streaked with gray—always made me catch my breath in wonder that I’d been chosen for his crew.
Ballard caught my gaze, his eyes sparkling. We walked close together. I did not dare to touch him, even by accident. He would frown at me and if the others saw, my future held humiliation.
Ahead, Mr. Steward looked back over his shoulder, keeping pace with his comrades, his wiry form almost twisting.
I smiled and waved. I knew I should hurry to catch up with him, but I wanted to linger at the Captain’s side.
Close to the railing, a man shouted. “Hey! What’s that?”
“Look!” another cried.
The urgency in their voices propelled us forwards. I dashed to the railing, Captain Ballard by my side. I picked out figures sitting in a dinghy, dark shadows amidst the swirling grey.
Ballard tapped my shoulder. “We’re going back to the Acheron. You and Pelletier, your skirts...”
“—will slow us down.” I cursed at choosing to wear civilian attire, even if part of me hoped I would catch the captain’s eye.
Pelletier had already vanished into the crowd with her man. The ruckus might catch her attention, but in the meantime… “I will do what I can here. Find the rest of the survivors.”
Ballard nodded. He and the rest of the crew ran for the ship. I watched until the fog hid him before returning my attention to the struggling dinghy.
“It’s taking on water fast,” the man next to me opined.
Around us, people started shouting to the imperilled crew. “Over here! Over here!”
The king tide drew the dinghy closer in choppy surges.
I waited, only half aware that my presence discomfited those in my immediate vicinity. Women amongst the sailors continued to be a huge adjustment for them and Society understood even less.
I bounced on my toes, waiting until they came within reach. My mind raced in constant calculations of knots and trajectories. Would they make it? Would someone else grab a dinghy to try and reach them?
One of the locals jumped over the railing. The man’s feet disappeared into the waves and yet he didn’t sink. I blinked, astonished.
Another man followed suit.
“How did—“ I spoke loud enough for the second man to hear.
He grinned up at me and stamped his feet. “Fishing platform. Tide’s covered it. Usually we sit on it.”
I grimaced at the fellow’s patronising tone. Hitching my skirts, I clambered over the railing, settling next to the growing number of men perched on the narrow platform and calling out to the dinghy.
Judging from its bobbing trajectory, the tiny craft would come alongside. The other men, all fishermen, had already determined that.
My skirts clung heavily to my ankles. The cotton underskirts and woollen skirt soaked up the icy salt water. It didn’t matter, if I helped to rescue just one...
One by one, everyone on the fishing platform leaned out toward the oncoming dinghy. It lay low in the water, wavelets breaking over the side.
Some of the men on board paddled with their bare hands, making little headway. The rest desperately bailed out the sinking boat, using their hands and a flimsy leather bucket.
I held my breath. At this rate, their boat would sink long before they reached us. I grabbed the railing behind me, reaching out like the other men.
Men and women crowded the top level of the pier, shouting their encouragement. Some of the women sobbed.
I stretched, reaching, seeing the desperation in the sailors’ faces. “Steady, steady!” I shouted. “We will get you.”
Others joined in my call. “Easy does it!” “Come on now!”
The dinghy dipped beneath a wave in real danger of submerging. A woman behind me screamed. The boat came up again, two feet away.
Close enough for rescue. I took one look at the drenched forms on the dinghy, their set faces and their lips and cheeks blue with cold. “Now! Now!” My outstretched fingertips tingled with the chill, longing to catch the first.
Some sailors in a dark navy uniform held the sinking dinghy steady, letting others grab for saving hands.
The first sailor jumped.
The man beside me grabbed him, heaving him over our railing. Two men on the other side of the pier above us dragged the sailor onto dry boards.
I noted the rescuer’s methodology but had little time to absorb it. One of the sailors jumped for me. I grabbed him, hauling him in with strength that clearly surprised my fellow rescuers.
The sailor’s mouth agape, other rescuers threaded him through the rails to safety.
I reached out for the next sailor.
Callused palms gripped mine and I pulled him in, making sure he balanced on the sunken fishing plank before I released him. I patted him on his shoulder and returned my attention to the rescue.
Only two men were left in the boat. The dinghy’s rim crested above the waves, but only just. The last two aboard started panicking.
They rushed the pier, leaping out and grabbing wildly for the rescuers.
I braced myself. I’d dealt with frightened, desperate victims of the sea. The burly sailor’s weight slammed against me, expelling the breath from my lungs. My booted feet slipped on the slippery wood.
The square heel of my boot caught and I fell hard against one of the pier’s massive pilings.
The burly sailor, oblivious to my sharp intake of pained breath, scrambled past, using my limp body to reach the drier boards of the pier above. The other rescuers ascended behind him.
Staggering upright, I glanced at the empty dinghy, now sinking fast. The boat’s weathered surface lay underwater. It would soon lie at the bottom of the bay’s icy waters.
A shadow swirled underneath it. It didn’t seem to be a reflection of the sinking boat. I leaned out for a better look. It moved at odds with both the tide and the boat’s strong lines.
The deadening fog masked the sounds of rescuers and rescued upon the pier above and behind me. The water lapped at my boot-tops. The king tide continued to rise.
Something red curved through the water. A sinuous shape with thin gold bands staggered on it. A feathered tail swooshed, blurring my view of whatever it was and the boat.
I stared, leaning forwards, intrigued by the beauty unveiling itself. What on earth was it?
The creature dove under the boat and came up the other side. I grabbed at the buttons on my pelisse. The head was horrendous to look upon, dark hair and whiskers and a wide, fanged mouth.
But the eyes… Golden eyes stared, rounded with longing, until I forgot about sharp teeth and scaled snout. Its large pupils focused upon me.
I slumped to my knees in wonder. I reached out, my gloved hand sinking into the icy sea. “What are you?” I breathed.
Its golden eyes flew wide, revealing red viscera around the edges. Its mouth came down over my fingertips, snagging my glove and pulling it free.
“Hey!” I launched into the water after the creature and my glove.
Somebody grabbed my arm, stopped me from diving.
I struggled against the implacable grip, watching the carmine-scaled creature sink from view. My glove dangled from one of its fangs. The creature’s face grew indistinct, the swirl of suspended sand in the agitated sea concealing it.
“Damn!” I sagged against the pier and didn’t resist when two men hauled me onto the pier’s upper level.
Pelletier’s face hovered over mine. “Murray! What were you thinking?”
I sat up, pushing hands away from me. “I saw a sea monster! A serpent. It took my glove!” I waved my bared hand at her, marvelling that the creature had not drawn any blood. “Did nobody see it?”
Blinking away salt water, I surveyed the lingering fishermen and Pelletier who stared down at me. Their blank faces made no sense.
“Nobody saw?” I repeated. “Who pulled me up? You must have seen it. It was right there!”
One after another, the men shook their heads, their hands making ancient warding signs.
I grabbed the hem of Pelletier’s skirt. “Ask the sailors, the ones we rescued. It was right there with them.” At her doubtful face, I begged, “Please. You know I don’t imagine things.”
Pelletier knelt. “I know. That’s what scares me.” She brushed my cheek. “Don’t move. I need to see to the rest of them.”
I nodded, curling into a drenched ball. My mind felt as frozen as my fingertips. I couldn’t comprehend that I’d been wrong, that the creature hadn’t existed. I wished I’d thought to use my gift, but that worked only with human souls…
I looked out at the foggy sea and saw the dark shadow of the Acheron drift. The gigantic silk balloon hung suspended above the rigging like a grey ghost. Searchlights in the hull created bright shafts of light to the sea below.
I crawled over to look into the water, my soaked skirts making every move an effort. Had I imagined it all?
The waves surged. It didn’t come from the wash of the Acheron, already a hundred feet in the air.
The swell grew stronger and higher. A wave broke over the pier’s floorboards, sending an eddy of water across its planks until it all ran back into the sea.
The icy water rushed over my hands, the one without a glove burning with the cold. My musings held me in place, staring down into the deep, wanting to make sense of all that had happened and the mysterious creature.
Nearby, a kneeling girl pulled debris from the water. Amongst the flotsam, she stacked waterlogged books along the pier’s edge.
A low groan, not from human lips. A woman screamed.
Beneath me, the timbers shuddered under an unseen force. I broke out of my reverie. Had a ship crashed against the pier?
A quick scan revealed an empty sea.
An angry sea. White caps topped each wave and each wave stood larger than the last. The boards beneath me creaked in protest at the sea’s assault.
The reason struck me, true and accurate, for all that it smacked of folk tale. “You fool!” I told the girl. “The sea claims its own!”
I knew the superstitions as well as any, even though I came from the north. I grabbed a book. The ink on the cover had melted into an illegible blur. I tossed it back into the sea.
The girl squawked, pushing me away and covering her loot. The waves refused to quiet.
I snatched another book and threw it in.
The pier swayed beneath us. “The sea claims its own,” I repeated. This time the girl heard me and understood. She started shoving piles of books into the dark, oily water.
I kicked in other books after hers.
The water calmed. On the pier, the holiday-makers resumed their enjoyment of the carnival. I heard a couple pass an observation about the king tide’s unusually large waves.
I leaned over the pier’s edge, watching the books descend like sinking manta rays.
The water grew greener, glowing with an unseen light. Clawed scaly hands appeared out of the murk and grabbed a book, pulling it down to its chest, below its bearded chin.
The creature.
The golden eyes oscillated and widened. It flashed a brief, mischievous smile before the green light faded. Once more the opaque sea reflected the yellow lamplight above the surface.
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