The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XIV: To Wake the Dead

Therefore do not bend, Ancalimë. Once bend a little and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves. -- J. R. R. Tolkien, Unfinished Tales

"Kiriyuki?"

The sea serpent hissed. Kitri stepped back. Irímé put himself in front of Abi, glaring up at the creature as if its existence was a personal slight. What use he thought he would be if it did decide to attack, probably not even he could have said.

Kitri was never sure of what happened next. It was a blur with only a few seconds of nightmarish clarity. The sea serpent lunged forward. Kitri leapt away. Irímé grabbed Abi's arm and tried to pull her out of harm's way. Water splashed everywhere, on the path, on the serpent, on Kitri herself. She couldn't see Abi or Irímé. For one awful minute it looked like the sea serpent had climbed onto the path.

Under the circumstances Kitri's thoughts were not at all coherent and hardly helped her understanding of the situation. No no nonononono how can it do that it doesn't even have arms--

Then suddenly the serpent was gone. In its place was a young woman, a Seroyawan from her appearance, her hair and clothes dripping wet. Kitri was briefly distracted by the silver embroidery on her long black outer robe. For a minute it looked less like embroidery and more like... scales...

Irímé's well-meaning assistance only got himself and Abi in the perfect spot to be drenched by an even larger wave than the one that hit Kitri. The two of them were so busy grumbling and bickering that they were paying no attention at all to their surroundings. Kitri tried to speak. It was most unfair that right now she was soaked to the skin but her mouth was bone dry.

While she was still trying to remember how to speak, the... sea serpent? Being? Woman? Just trying to decide how to refer to her was giving Kitri a headache! Whatever she was, she burst into a long and clearly angry monologue in an unfamiliar language. Abi's expression grew more and more outraged with each word. Minutes ticked by and the woman still didn't run out of things to say.

At last Abi's patience ran out.

"You didn't have to save me! I was in no danger!" she snapped.

The strange woman glared at her. In understandable but oddly-accented Saoridhin she said, "Are you sure? Then why do you smell of dark magic?"

It took a great deal of self-control -- and a lingering healthy dose of fear -- to stop Kitri telling the woman all about Abi's latest escapades. Irímé opened his mouth, caught Abi's eye, and closed it again.

The woman continued without letting Abi get a word in edgewise. Unfortunately she went back to speaking in her own language. Kitri and Irímé exchanged awkward looks. It was never pleasant to be caught in the middle of an argument. When the argument was in a language they spoke then there was some entertainment to be derived from it. But no one could find anything interesting in such a lengthy spiel when they didn't understand a word.

Abi interrupted in the same strange language. She and the woman yelled at each other for at least ten minutes. Well, Abi yelled. Her friend -- or so Kitri assumed; clearly they knew each other, and no one would travel miles to find a stranger or an enemy -- didn't actually raise her voice. She didn't have to. The scorn in her voice could have turned milk sour.

This continued for so long that Kitri began to seriously wonder if Abi had forgotten her and Irímé's existence. She took a step back. Then another. And another. She waved to get Irímé's attention, then gestured emphatically for him to follow. He looked uncertainly at Abi. She remained blissfully unaware of his existence. With a shrug he slipped past her.