118 Iyomelka's Island

When she did not find Ystya upon awakening, Iyomelka assumed the girl had gone somewhere to avoid her mother and sulk. A glance from the hill showed that the ship was gone with the sunrise, as Saan had promised. Her daughter had longed to go with the foreign sailors.

Oh, that young captain had a voice like honey, and he made lovely promises that the innocent girl would not recognize as false. Ystya had such great potential—didn't even know her own powers—but she was naïve and foolhardy, and needed to be protected. This island was the place to protect her, especially now that the vivifying spring had been restored.

Iyomelka bathed to gather the power that was her due, but when she emerged from the sparkling pool, feeling stronger than she had in decades, she still saw no sign of the foolish girl. She began to feel a dark dread within her.

The island witch had also been gone from the outside world for centuries and had forgotten just how devious and treacherous men could be. She searched for Ystya, going to all the places where the girl could hide, but without success. She could not find her daughter. It was several hours past dawn before Iyomelka knew with a sick certainty what had truly happened.

The Al-Orizin had sailed away, and Saan had lured her daughter with them. He did not know what he had done!

Iyomelka ran down to the beach, saw the girl's footprints in the sand, vanishing into the water where she must have met a small boat. The older woman stared out at the submerged reefs that had wrecked so many other vessels, but the Uraban sailing ship was long gone. She held out her arms and let her anger and despair build. She wailed louder than a thousand gulls, “Ystya!”

Summoned by her emotions, tropical winds whipped up around the island, stirring the jungles. Fan ferns brushed their leaves together with a dry, mocking sound. The palms swayed and bent until one of the tall trunks snapped with a loud crack, sending down a cascade of broomlike fronds.

The ocean currents responded to Iyomelka's call, as they always did when she grew angry. Whitecaps thrashed and foamed beyond the lagoon and spread like echoes toward the reefs. Black clouds gathered above the island at the center of a widening weather pattern that would become a vortex tugging at any sailing ships from far and wide. If she could snag the Al-Orizin, she could suck the ship back here and smash it up against the reefs.

But Captain Saan was a clever one; he would have sailed away at his vessel's top speed. Iyomelka knew he had tried to trick her all along. “Bring back my daughter!” The wind snatched her words away, and she doubted even magic could carry that threat far enough across the seas for Saan and Ystya to hear it. Still her anger continued to build. Forgotten now was the rejuvenating power of the reawakened spring.

Needing more strength, Iyomelka raced back up the hill to the bubbling well. The deep pool shone fresh and silver in the stormy morning. Her husband's preserved body lay next to it within his crystalline coffin, entombed in the pure water. His face looked maddeningly beatific, as if he truly didn't care that she had killed him. Maybe he was happy she had ended the misery of enduring her company! Ondun had always been a fool. Even the greatest love was not meant to last for thousands of years….

Iyomelka drank deeply of the powerful water, stripped off her clothes, and plunged into the cold pool, bathing her skin, washing her hair, allowing the magical waters to infuse her pores, her flesh, her bones. It was not a process to be hurried. Unconcerned with the spring losing its potency now, she decided to take all of the magic and fortify herself… so much that she felt the energy building inside her, ready to explode. If Iyomelka didn't release some of the energy she contained, it would begin to eat away at her.

From the fountain, she could look out toward the ocean, knowing what lay beneath the surface of the reefs. The island witch extended her hands, spread her fingers, and sent forth a command. She called the tides, shifted the water, and drew together strands of seaweed, lumps of coral. Then she pulled.

The largest of the sunken sailing ships rose from beneath the waves, still dripping, its wood rotten with sea worms, its sails nothing more than green shreds. The webwork of rigging was nearly gone, leaving only a few dangling strands that had been gnawed at by fish and time.

As the wrecked ship heaved itself to the surface, made buoyant by her summoning, Iyomelka called swarms of starfish from the reefs. They detached themselves from their hiding places, rose up, and clustered in sufficient numbers to patch the holes in the hull. Seaweed twined up to weave into and secure the ropes. Anemones clung to the sides of the deck and hull, and a flourish of sharp coral antlers protruded from the bow.

Iyomelka would use this vessel as her own.

Before leaving, almost as an afterthought, she used more of her magic to raise the crystalline coffin, and the water-filled container followed her down to the beach. The old man's preserved body looked peaceful in its tank.

Standing on the shore, Iyomelka sent the waters away from the lagoon so she could walk across the mucky sea bottom to meet the vessel that balanced on the rough reef. Water continued to drip off the slime on the masts, spars, and deck.

She climbed aboard the resurrected ship, pulling herself up the peeling hull with a rubbery strand of brown-green kelp. Behind her, the transparent coffin rose to the deck and settled onto the warped boards, still exuding magic. Iyomelka did not give her husband a second thought, but she would need him later.

She climbed to the bow of her vessel, where the long spears of twisted coral pointed toward the open sea. Without looking back at her island, Iyomelka allowed the waters to return in a rush, calling the tides to float the ship, which lurched off of its jagged perch.

Ready to depart, Iyomelka whistled for her own winds and moved the waters to create a current beneath the starfish-patched hull. She drove her ship away from the island, away from the reefs. Her anger remained unabated as she set out after Saan and the Al-Orizin.