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

Much and more, I’m afraid, said Watawa, acknowledging his fellows in the Unwanted tribe as he, Garrett, and the Hammers passed them by. It would seem that a gathered horde of Nomads swimming for the Merrow capital draws many an eye, my friend. Already there have been many Orc pods sent out to engage us along our journey.

Atsidi scoffed at that. The Merrow king sends his soldiers to slaughter, rather. What else could await a few pods sent to crash against us now with so many of our tribes in number to thwart them?

Aye, the same as White Shadow questioned, at first, said Watawa. But these Orcs do not come in waves to test their might like the Painted Guard. No, these attacking our ranks now are seawolves, tried and true. They withdraw into the shadows, the same as our people fight, never lingering for longer than a heartbeat before spreading out to thin their number and then vanish into the Abyss.

Can’t you dive after them and chase them there? Garrett asked.

We can and have, said Watawa. But not all of our people ever return. It is said ‘An Orc without their pod is nothing’, no? Watawa cocked an eyebrow as he looked on Garrett. I gather these seawolves come alone, yet leave their pack to wait in the depths. All to taunt and lure weaker minds to the greater pod and trap below.

Atsidi grimaced. Aye, and our would-be warriors finding their own deaths instead.

Indeed, said Watawa. But such is the way for these tricksome seawolves. By my reports, all are transients bearing the garb of Violovar, loyal to Malik Blackfin.

Garrett shivered at the name and the memory of meeting the monster he would later learn was his estranged uncle. He recalled the Blackfin’s spies in the Painted Guard that overthrew Makeda and killed his mother and his podmate, Pieter, too. The same traitors who intended to rape and kill his friend, Vanya, also. And all so that they might reunite Garrett with his Orcinian uncle. But why would the Blackfin send his seawolves against us out here in the open? Garrett asked Watawa. Especially if they’re so far outnumbered?

To cause discord amongst us in how best to deal with their threat? A show of fearlessness, mayhap? Or to learn how our ranks will respond and prepare against further attacks? Watawa shrugged. Like his father before him, the Blackfin has all manner of tricks and guile, Garrett Half-Orc. If the council is to hear my words, however, the Blackfin and his seawolves can wait. I sense a greater storm soon to unleash upon us. Aye, and its shadows already closing in.

Or rising from below to grab us, said Garrett, glancing down at the darkened depths beneath him, remembering Watawa’s ominous words to him in the Devil’s Triangle. You really think the seawolves would be so foolish as to swim up in the middle of all these armies? It would be suicide.

Perhaps, Atsidi Darksnout answered. It would not be the first time I have witnessed such tactics from the Orcs. He looked to Watawa. You have said yourself in times past that not all of your visions are so easily deciphered, Open Shell. Do you fear these seawolves are the coming storm, or a mere sampling of it?

I cannot say for certain, Watawa replied. And it seems I am not the lone dreamer of late.

No?

Watawa shook his head. The council meets now to discuss the visions given to others also. One to White Shadow. The other to Red Water.

Garrett’s lip curled. Ishmael, you mean. You guys really believe he’s had a vision like yours, Watawa? He looked between the Nomad shaman and Atsidi Darksnout. Or do you think Ishmael is just pretending? More lies?

I know not for certain, said Watawa. But the council will hear him all the same. Must hear him, rather. As chieftain of the Bull nation, we would be fools not to hear him out, be it farce or otherwise. What say you, Darksnout?

Atsidi grimaced. Aye, the council must hear him. Much as I doubt we will take anything of note from it.

Then why let him speak at all? Garrett wondered, but did not say as they continued on swimming together through the tribal lines. More than once, and despite swimming with his Great White Shark tail, Garrett caught sight of Nomad warriors giving him a double-take, their hungry gazes lingering and working over the two-toned variations of his skin. They know. He shrunk under their whispered words and motions for others to look upon him also. They know what I am . . .

For all the haughty looks from the many, Garrett forced himself to remember his mother’s words and look for the goodness in others. Committing himself to such ideals, Garrett found other warriors who nodded in acknowledgment of his swimming alongside the Hammer chieftain and Watawa too. Still others took no notice of him at all.

But what would they do if I wasn’t with Atsidi and Watawa? Garrett wondered, doubt creeping in when he spotted a small grouping of Night-Stalkers and their leader, Short-Shore, among them. Would they let me swim among them?

As Watawa led them in a descent for colder water and away from prying eyes and ears, Garrett wrestled with a different thought. Why are we going down? He asked Watawa. Didn’t you say the seawolves are about?

They are, said Watawa. But your brethren Orcs are not blessed with your Nomad gifts, my young friend. The seawolves must still ascend for air sometime. If any have broken so deep into our ranks and then dared to dive as deep we shall go, the Orcs will find themselves hard-pressed to escape back into the above.

Atsidi scoffed. Unless such Orcs do not mean to make a return journey. Either up toward the surface for a breathe of air, or even back to their master in New Pearlaya . . .

What do you mean? Garrett asked. Why wouldn’t the seawolves want to live?

Ask rather, what would