Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

I know that you wrestle with such thoughts and guilt, said Cursion. Just as I did when I were young. Just as many warriors do, and then attempt to hide from their choices.

Garrett hesitated to speak, toying with the thoughts running his mind, trying to figure out how best to speak them. I don’t care what you did with Arsen.

No, said Cursion. But you struggled with the decision when it was left to you, yes?

Garrett blushed at that. I guess so, he said. Maybe. I dunno.

Smiling, Cursion turned back to face him. And you think this inner conflict makes you weak, my son? That were you not quick to kill your former pod-mate, as Ishmael challenged you to do?

Garrett shrugged in silent reply.

Death is never easy, my son, said Cursion. Nor should it be decided quickly. For all that your former pod-mate did to you and others, I did not doubt his tale of hardship. Had our lives been traded, myself and others might do as Arsen did, if placed in similar circumstance.

Why did you decide to give him to the Hammers, then? Garrett asked.

It was not me to whom the hurt was caused, said Cursion. The Orcinian slew a friend of yours, yet you could not bring yourself to slay him in vengeful return. If you could not do so with the loss you sustained, how then could I give the order to execute him?

But, you did, said Garrett. By giving him to the Hammers, you know what will happen.

Do I? Cursion asked. Atsidi Darksnout has told us all he is sworn to peace now. It may be this test is meant for him to decide where his heart truly lies.

Isn’t that wrong to put your friend to such a test though? Garrett challenged. If you know that Atsidi wants peace for him and his people, why give him the Orc who killed his son and make things harder for him?

Ours is a hard world, my son, said Cursion. Were it truly my decision alone, I would have spared Atsidi Darksnout further pain and ended the Orcinian myself. As high chieftain, however, duty falls to me to think of the needs and wants of all.

Garrett’s brow furrowed. And you think that all of the Nomads will need Atsidi and his warriors in the coming war . . .

The Hammers are the largest in number of our tribes, said Cursion. Without them to join, aye, I believe it would be a lost cause to attack the Merrow king and all his Orcs. Say nothing of the newest threat either. The Sancul offer will spread more discord among us too before the end, I assure you.

You don’t trust the Sancul offer, then? Garrett asked, thinking back on Kellen Winstel and the deep dwellers he swam with.

Trust is our only way forward, my son, said Cursion. And yet even if we were to align with the Sancul to bring down the Merrows and the Orcs, I would not trust the deep dwellers to spare our people when all others were finished. In truth, I had hoped this night might lend me time to speak alone with the other chieftains. All that I might better hear their concerns without Ishmael to cloud our situation.

You should’ve just gotten rid of him, then, said Garrett. He would do the same for you.

Cursion chuckled. We are of two minds, my son. Still, however old he may seem to your eyes, Red Water is young enough among our people. And the elders who will not remember their younger days, nor listen to the passion of youth are like to lose their favor among the people also. A leader who would silence even the most outspoken member of their council is no true leader at all.

Maybe, said Garrett. But, if that person is like Ishmael and keeps spreading fear and doubt among the rest, then the first leader might lose their favor among the people anyway.

Cursion’s smile widened. You learn quickly, my son. He nodded. And see much already. In time, I have little doubt you will rise to be among our greatest of leaders.

I doubt it, said Garrett, his momentary cheer of the praise given to him doused at Cursion’s continued words of his potential ascendancy among the Nomad ranks. Ishmael and the others will never see me as one of them. All they see when they look at me is an Orcinian, just like Arsen.

Cursion swam forward, then, and placed his hands upon Garrett’s shoulders. You are nothing like the Orc I sent off to Atsidi Darksnout.

How do you know? Garrett asked.

Your eyes speak to your truth, my son, said Cursion. One need not look deeply into them to see the light within. In yours, I see the way ahead for all our people – Nomads, Orcs, Merrows. Aye, Selkies and even Sancul too.

Sancul?

Cursion nodded. When all others showed fear this night at the arrival of the deep dwellers, I saw my son alone prepared to swim out and extend an offer in response to theirs. Not of war, or hate, but peace and friendship.

Only because I knew Kellen, said Garrett. Remembered him from when we both lived ashore.

Cursion’s head cocked to the side, then, as if he could make no sense of Garrett’s meaning.

I don’t know how Kellen got down here, said Garrett. Only that he did. He’s . . . different . . . now too.

And in your life before, said Cursion. You were friendly with this Sancul?

No, said Garrett. Never. He . . . he picked on me all the time. Bullied me every chance he could. Garrett unwittingly glanced at his tail, watching it sway back and forth, remembering the first time he had witnessed it do so after awaking at the bottom of the deep end in the pool of Tiber High School. Kellen Winstel had lazed above him, then, and might have drowned also, had it not been for Owens to dive