* * *
Maanta heard a gruff rumble behind him as the procession neared. It was Sift, and he clasped a fist over Maanta’s shoulder and dragged him backwards through the crowd. The boy’s ears were battered by the collage of Meridians around him, being clipped and squeezed between them.
The crowd, after being hit first by Sift and then rammed by Maanta against his will, was torn about whether to look at the two’s bizarre retreat or the procession of newcomers before them.
“…rumors…the time…too soon…enslaved…no…too soon…,” Maanta caught Sift babbling, but then his neck was twisted awkwardly around as the left side of his skull pounded against a hovering whale-bone chariot. His body was ripped from Sift’s grasp and he swung beneath the chariot, scattering the shimmering fish which had been carrying the vessel through the waters.
Maanta’s body sunk, with the chariot above it crashing down toward him.
“A boy’s trapped below that cart!” someone in the gathering bellowed out. Others followed suit. A few in the mass dove down to try and save him.
Sift’s wrist and arm fins beat rapidly in the waters as he struggled to catch up. Water pressed his chest, as if attempting to weight him upwards as he swam. And in the corner of his eye he saw something glistening like a scale covered harpoon, jutting toward the cragged sands where Maanta would hit. The thing’s back half beat through the waters, leaving a rippling effect behind as it went.
A humming sound resonated as the thing swept beneath the chariot, its back half bumping swiftly against the vessel’s bottom.
Sift realized what it was, who the man was as it pulsed toward him swifter than any man of his race swam. His eyes locked with Evanshade’s stern, deep eyes and he recognized the fanged teeth worn across the man’s necklace as he clasped the boy tightly in his arms. Something in Evanshade’s face changed as the two men passed in the waters. It was a dark look of recognition before peacefulness retook his eyes.
The two knew each other from some place, some time, but here amongst the crowd both men knew nothing could be said or done. Like opposing magnetic fields their souls burned, separating them in opposite directions.
Sift swam quickly toward and amongst the East Shale Wall’s darkened coves to bide his time.
Pockets of the crowd warmly cheered Evanshade as he returned to the Zhar’s party with Maanta resting limp in his arms.
8