The Breathing Sea II - Drowning Read online

  The Breathing Sea II:

  Drowning

  E.P. Clark

  Copyright © 2017 E.P. Clark

  Cover art copyright © 2017 Alan M. Clark

  Published by Helia Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Also by the Author

  Amazon US Links:

  The Zemnian Series

  The Midnight Land I The Flight

  The Midnight Land II: The Gift

  The Breathing Sea I: Burning

  The Breathing Sea II: Drowning

  The Dreaming Land I: The Challenge

  Unplanned Parenthood

  Amazon UK Links:

  The Zemnian Series

  The Midnight Land I The Flight

  The Midnight Land II: The Gift

  The Breathing Sea I: Burning

  The Breathing Sea II: Drowning

  The Dreaming Land I: The Challenge

  Unplanned Parenthood

  And want to find out how it all began? Sign up for my newsletter here and get a free copy of the prequel short story collection Winter of the Gods and Other Stories. Plus loads of tidbits, updates, and free offers!

  From the Author

  The Breathing Sea II is, as the astute reader might have already guessed, the second part of the book called The Breathing Sea, which was split into two volumes for reasons of length. It turns out that Microsoft Word can only support documents of a certain size, and physical books weighing more than a couple of pounds are unwieldy at best, as I discovered in most unpleasant form this spring while hauling around a hardback edition of War and Peace. So for everyone’s sake, I split up my own graphomanic outpourings into multiple volumes. Besides, this gave me the pleasure of producing a trilogy in seven volumes, thereby beating Douglas Adams handily at his own game.

  The action of TBSII starts immediately where TBSI left off, so I would highly recommend reading TBSI first, but in case you’re picking this up while stranded somewhere with no recourse to civilization, like a cabin in the woods or the kind of high-end hotel where you have to pay $15 for internet access, here is a brief recap of the doings and happenings of TBSI:

  Dasha, also known as Darya Krasnoslavovna and Darya Tsarinovna, is the only daughter of the Empress (Tsarina) of Zem’, conceived at the behest of the gods. While everyone expects her to be a gifted sorceress and a troublemaker, in fact, she is neither, and by the age of seventeen has become guilt-ridden and apologetic, even as she struggles with her unusual manifestation of the gifts of her mother’s bloodline. The visions that are increasingly besetting her are leading, not to magic and mastery, but to fits and fears, something that grows worse as she sets out with Oleg Svetoslavovich, her father, on her first ever journey beyond the walls of Krasnograd, the capital of Zem’. She is accompanied by Susanna Gulisovna, a princess from the newly-acquired province of Avkhazovskoye in the Southern mountains, and Svetochka, one of Oleg’s daughters from a previous liaison, as well as their guards and horses.

  As they journey North towards Dasha’s kin in Lesnograd, Dasha’s fits and visions become increasingly unmanageable, and she has several encounters with magical or near-magical creatures. They also pick up Fedya, a young man who has run away from home dressed as a girl, who wants to become a woman and be accepted into a women’s sanctuary. While that seems impossible, they offer to take him to a sanctuary for people who wish to become castrates, an offer he accepts against Dasha’s wishes.

  On the way to the castrates’ sanctuary, Dasha comes across a water-maiden, the spirit of a young woman who has been murdered by her lover. Vika, the water-maiden, nearly drowns her, but Dasha somehow absorbs her essence instead, thereby absorbing her water-sense and her affinity for water, an element Dasha had hitherto always feared.

  Once they arrive at the sanctuary, the domoviye (house spirits) who had been stalking Dasha throughout her journey finally reveal themselves to her, and tell her that she was promised to them and they have come to collect her. When she refuses, she is told that soon she will call for them. She does not believe them, but the next day, when the sanctuary brothers bring back the body of a deer, an animal with whom Dasha feels special affinity, she is overcome with rage at them and at her companions, and the domoviye do, just as promised, come to collect her before she can wreak any harm on anyone. TBSI ends just as Dasha and the domoviye are slipping away into the shadows; TBSII begins at that very moment.

  Just as in TBSI, and in The Midnight Land, the story of Dasha’s mother, aficionados of Russian culture will find many, many allusions to classical Russian literature, which should keep them happy and occupied if nothing else does.

  Chapter One

  The shadows washed over Dasha like water. There was coolness, and pressure, and then she burst out into the light again.

  “Where are we?” she asked, looking around. The laundry house was gone, as was the rest of the sanctuary. The only thing around them were spruce trees.

  “Do you not recognize the forest when you see it, little Tsarinovna?” asked the domovaya. Dasha thought she might be laughing at her.

  “Why are we here?” she asked, in order to cover up her confusion. “Why aren’t we in a house? I thought you lived in houses.”

  “And you do not, little Tsarinovna? And yet here you are.”

  “Are you going to help me?” Dasha demanded. “Or are you just going to make fun of me, and answer my questions with questions? I should have stayed back with them!”

  “That you should not have, little Tsarinovna,” said the domovaya, her voice turning sober. “That you should not have. You were going to set them on fire, were you not? Or curse them. Or both.”

  “They…” Her throat closed. “They killed a deer. The deer who helped me! They…they might as well have killed me. I looked at her, and I saw myself lying there, and I felt as if they’d killed me. And they were so calm about it. They thought I was the one who was wrong, and that if they just explained to me why I was wrong, I would become one of them. They wanted to, to eat me, just like they wanted to eat the deer. And I…and I…”

  “Hush now, hush now,” said the domovaya, patting Dasha’s trembling hand. “Wipe your eyes now, my dear. It’s over now.”

  “Not for the deer it’s not!”

  “For the deer as well,” the domovaya told her. “It’s over, it’s done, and it can’t be undone. All your rage, all your fire, would do nothing more than burn you down and leave nothing behind but ash. Hush now. It’s true, and no matter how much you cry and rage and beat your fists, it will never be any less true.”

  “I should have seen it,” said Dasha. “What are the use of visions, if I can’t stop things like that from happening?! I should have seen it.”

  “You cannot see everything,” the domovaya told her. “Not even you can see everything.”

  “I can’t see anything,” said Dasha. “All I do is have fits and hurt people! I should never have been given these gifts! They’re no good at all. I’m not good at all! I never should have been born. I never should have been born! I never should have been born!”

  “Hush now,” said the domovaya, stroking her arm. Her hand felt sort of like a cat’s paw, and sort of like a bundle of twigs. “Hush now. That can’t be undone either. You’ve been born now, and you can’t be unborn, so there’s no use in thinking on it, or worrying abo
ut what might have been.”

  “But…”

  “Come,” said the domovaya, interrupting Dasha before she could produce any more objections or complaints. “Come.” She took Dasha’s hand and began to lead her deeper into the trees, her grip surprisingly firm, so that Dasha had the suspicion that if she were to try to twist away from her and run off, she would fail.

  “Where are you taking me?” Dasha asked. “Are you taking me to the leshiye?” A cold chill ran through her, as if she were about to have a fit. “Am I going to be…am I going to be judged for what I did?”

  “What you did? What did you do, child? Scream and shout? If we judged and condemned every child who screamed and shouted, there wouldn’t be a woman left in the world.”

  “But I—I almost killed them! Or cursed them! Or both.”

  “Almost. It was in your heart. And what is in your heart matters, and so often comes out in your deeds. But as long as it stays in your heart, as long as it does not turn into deeds, no one will judge you, as your mother judges criminals. No one will punish you for something you never actually did. And besides, judgment and punishment is not our business. Judgment and punishment is something of the world of women, and is something only they concern themselves with. The rest of us concern ourselves with the greater business of life, and let the petty business of what you call justice pass us by.”

  “But…”

  The domovaya stopped and looked up at Dasha. “Do you want to be judged?” she asked. “Do you want to be punished?”

  “No, but…”

  “Then be quiet, and come with me. Listen, that you may learn wisdom. Or at least,” her voice was as dry as Dasha’s mother’s when she was remarking on someone’s foolishness, and also with a hint of wind whispering through the trees, “prevent yourself from saying things that have no meaning. True knowledge and wisdom only come from silence.”

  Dasha wanted to say something in reply, to apologize for her silliness, or at least to show that she understood, but she was afraid that the domovaya would think she was being contrary, so she followed along without speaking, working her way back and forth between the dark spruces, going deeper and deeper into the forest, or so it seemed to her, until they came to a little rise, on the other side of which a stream had carved out a deep place before turning and snaking off in the other direction.

  “Sit,” said the domovaya, pushing her down next to an ancient spruce, so that she was nestled in its low thick boughs.

  “How long are we going to be here?” Dasha asked timidly, afraid of making the domovaya think she was being disobedient, but even more afraid that she was going to spend days and days here, without any food or shelter.

  “As long as you need to be,” the domovaya told her.

  Dasha started to ask how long that would be, but a look from the domovaya silenced her. Probably asking showed that she wasn’t ready to leave. She looked up at the sky, as much of it as she could see through the spruce tops. It must already be late afternoon. Certainly she wouldn’t be able to walk back to the sanctuary before dark. Wherever it was. She closed her eyes.

  Her father was running through the trees, calling her name…the guards were ranging down the road…Susanna, Svetochka, and Fedya were kneeling in a circle, praying to their different gods…Brother Afanasy was too…the others were butchering the deer, hacking her body into pieces, preparing a supper that would give the others strength to go searching for her…

  “NO!” she screamed, her eyes flying open. She looked down, and saw that flames were crackling in her hands, jumping from finger to finger and threatening her shirt with their sparks. Power flooded through her, making her feel twice as tall, twice as strong, twice as brave. She could see herself striking down her enemies, cursing them, burning them into submission…

  “AAKH!” she screamed, scrambling up, her head filled with visions of her clothing catching on fire, her hair catching on fire, the whole forest catching on fire. She ran to the stream bank, and then, realizing she couldn’t reach the water from the top of the rise, half-ran, half-stumbled, her heart beating so hard in her ears she couldn’t even hear her own footsteps, down along the edge of the stream until she came to a place where the bank was lower and she was able to drop to her belly and plunge her hands into the water. For a terrifying moment the flames refused to go out, continuing to burn even after they were underwater, but then they were quenched. She pulled her hands from the water, expecting to see them covered in blisters and burns, but they were pale and unmarked.

  “Hello, sister.”

  Dasha looked around wildly.

  “Down here, sister.”

  Dasha looked back down at the water. A little face, like the domovaya’s but with a hint of fish, or maybe duck, to it, broke the surface and split into a wide grin. Dasha shrieked and scrambled backwards, slamming herself into the tree behind her and almost knocking herself into the water.

  “Is that any way to greet a sister?” said the creature reproachfully.

  “I’m…I’m not your sister!” cried Dasha. “I don’t know who you are! I’m nothing like you!”

  The creature heaved a sigh. “Humans,” she said. “So certain. So vain. Of course we’re sisters.”

  Dasha wanted to shout out another denial, but then another, wiser part of her took over her tongue, and asked, “Why are we sisters? How are we sisters? We look nothing alike.”

  “And do you need to look like someone to be her sister?” said the creature, moving closer to the shore, as if planning to come out of the water and join Dasha by the tree. Dasha instinctively shrank back, but the creature stopped before leaving the water, and merely looked at Dasha, smiling at her with her wide mouth.

  “I look a lot like my sister,” Dasha told her. “Everyone can see that we’re sisters just by looking at us.”

  The creature nodded encouragingly, like a tutor with a particularly inept pupil. “Looks are important,” she said solemnly. “For example, I look a bit like a duck, and a bit like a fish, and a bit like water weeds. So I can swim through the water amongst my sisters, and hide,” she smiled a wide, wide smile, “as I wait for my prey.”

  Many responses to that, some horrified, some curious, flashed through Dasha’s head, but what came out of her mouth was, “I don’t wait for my prey! I don’t prey on others!”

  “No?” The vodyanaya smiled another wide, wide smile. “And what was it you were thinking of doing, before my sister rescued you?”

  “That was different!”

  “Of course it was.” The vodyanaya pulled herself out of the water and onto the bank with one lithe move. Dasha flinched away from her, but she stopped when she was arm’s length from Dasha, and squatted down, now looking like nothing so much as a large frog. “Of course it was different,” she said. “It always is.”

  “I…they…” Dasha’s throat closed, and she had to swallow before she could go on. “They killed a deer. I…She was my sister, and they killed her, and then laughed at my tears, and told me it was the way of things.”

  The vodyanaya cocked her head to the side, duck-like. “Funny,” she said. “You don’t look like a deer.”

  “This isn’t the time for lessons!” Dasha said, her voice rising into a shout. “You don’t have to lead me to the truth, like I’m some kind of stupid student who can’t see the truth when it’s in front of her! I can figure things out for myself! You just have to tell me!”

  “Of course, of course,” said the vodyanaya, crawling-hopping over to her and taking her hand in her own, damp webbed one. Dasha thought it would feel slimy and horrible, but in fact it felt warm and alive, just like her own. The vodyanaya peered up at her face. “Funny,” she said again. “You don’t look like a deer.”

  Dasha bit her lip. She had set that trap up and led herself right into it, but she was too angry to laugh at herself about it, so she settled for a dignified, or at least stiff, silence.

  “I’m sorry about the deer, my heart,” said the vodyanaya, after
it became apparent that Dasha wasn’t going to say anything.

  “She shouldn’t have died,” said Dasha, digging her toe into the ground and looking away. “She shouldn’t have died.”

  “She would have died anyway, my heart. Everyone dies eventually.”

  Dasha gave the vodyanaya a sour look. “You won’t mind if I set you on fire right now, then,” she said.

  The vodyanaya gave her another one of her wide, wide smiles. “Even you might find that tricky, my child, although I see your point. But still…”

  “But nothing! You’re trying to dress up lies with truth, and hoping I don’t see through you! You’re trying to tell me that your thoughts are more real than mine! That you’re more real than her!”

  The vodyanaya sighed, a very human sound. “That’s not what I’m trying to do, my child. I’m merely pointing out to you that this is the way of things.”

  Dasha jumped to her feet, jerking out of the vodyanaya’s grasp. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” she said. Her hands were crackling with flames again. “But all my life, everyone has been telling me that I’ve been touched by the gods, chosen by the gods for some special task. So I’ve chosen my special task. To change the way of things.”

  The vodyanaya took a step towards her, holding out her hands as if to take Dasha’s own.

  “Don’t touch me!” Dasha cried. The vodyanaya seemed to be getting bigger, so that she was now higher than Dasha’s waist and growing rapidly. Dasha lashed out, slapping her across the face with her flaming hand.

  The vodyanaya stopped and pressed her hand to her cheek. When she took her hand away, there was a burn mark in the shape of five fingers and a palm showing clearly on her face.

  “You burned me,” she said in shock.

  “And I’ll do it again!” Dasha cried defiantly. “If you come any closer, I’ll do it again!” Power was coursing through her body, the prickles and tingles that normally went with it releasing themselves as flame instead of forcing her into a fit. She could see herself doing anything: standing up to the vodyanaya, to her father, to anyone who dared to oppose her, and forcing them to submit to her will.