The Relentless Tide

This month, we go back to where it all started and find out what happened when Mamboja (aka Mortimer) discovered who Shebana and Bakara really were. The Relentless Tide comes from Trinity of Souls, available for just 79p in my Summer Spectacular Price Crash: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Trinity-Souls-Carl-Bayley-ebook/dp/B0CQ8XRDZ2/ But hurry, summer ends soon!

Paperback available at: https://troubador.co.uk/bookshop/fantasy-and-horror/trinity-of-souls

“It looks like you’ll be leaving us soon, Major Carlton.” Susan was giving Ben a final examination before authorising his release. It was a routine matter, she should have got Minster to do it, but she couldn’t resist a last look at her star patient. At least, that’s what she was trying to tell herself. In truth, his astonishing recovery was only part of the reason behind her fascination. There was something else, something she couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it had compelled her to take this last chance to see him.

Physically, Carlton had achieved a complete recovery. The physiotherapists had never seen such powers of recuperation. But his mind was another matter. She knew he was having some awful nightmares. Jenny had told her about him crying out, shouting things like, ‘So you have come to take me too, same as my beloved Samantha.’

His personal life couldn’t be helping. That bitch, his wife, was almost beyond belief. Serving divorce papers to a man in his hospital bed, telling him he shouldn’t bother coming home. Unbelievable!

At least he had his uncle. A strange man, but nice enough. He was oddly familiar too, although she couldn’t recall ever meeting him before.

She reached across to check one of the monitors and accidentally brushed Carlton’s forehead. As she touched him, she was overwhelmed by an incredible sensation, as if she was falling, or fainting. Her head span, her vision blurred, and suddenly she was somewhere else, far away, and long ago...

*

“Bakara, we must not lie together, we are sister and brother; it is a sin.”

“But, Shebana, you know we are not sister and brother by blood.”

“Yes, I know, but no-one else does, they will see only the sin.”

“Mamboja knows the truth, our mother told him before the sea chose her. He would speak for us if we were discovered.”

She wasn’t sure she shared Bakara’s faith in their guardian, but she knew he was right, Mamboja did know the truth about them. “I suppose he would,” she admitted; “he is our father by law now, since our mother was chosen.”

“Anyway, Shebana, I do not want to be a man with you, I only want to hold you and protect you. You are precious to me, more beautiful than the waves. My love for you is as relentless as the tide.”

As he spoke, she felt the same relentless tide in her heart, and knew another truth she could no longer deny. “Oh Bakara, I feel the same. I know we have been raised as sister and brother, and that is how the people see us, but I will lie with you this night because I love you as the fish love the sea, and I know I must care for you. We must be together.”

They lay under a blanket of dried seaweed, inside a tent made from the skin of sea creatures. They held each other close, the warmth of their innocent love comforting them through the darkness. As she drifted into a peaceful, contented sleep, Shebana knew she was where she belonged. One day, when they were older, she would become Bakara’s woman. But, for now, simply being in his arms was enough.

*

Outside, on the beach, the people drank their brews and danced around the fires as they sang in praise of the sea and gave thanks for the fruits it bestowed upon them. But the people knew the sea could be vengeful and it was always hungry. Every year, it would take many of the people, for its hunger was great. To appease the sea, the people had to make sacrifices.

Fujabi, captain of the first boat, sat by one of the fires, reflecting how the sacrifices had grown more frequent since Mamboja had become the voice of the sea, telling the people who had been chosen. The sea’s choices were not always popular, but no-one dared argue any more. It was strange how often anyone who spoke against Mamboja would get chosen soon afterwards. Who was going to take that risk?

Turning to his old friend, Fujabi asked, “Where are Bakara and Shebana; surely they are old enough to join the feast?”

“Perhaps,” responded Mamboja, “but they are spoilt children; their mother was soft with them. We are blessed the sea chose her. Now they will grow strong.”

“Praise the sea for it is wise. But, surely the feast is important for them to grow? They will not be children much longer. Bakara must soon take his seat in a boat and Shebana will be taken by a man at the next spring tide.”

“You may be right, my friend, I will send one of the women to bring them to the fire.”

Mamboja despatched a woman to fetch the children. Moments later, she returned in a state of anxiety. She fell to her knees, “Oh, my lord, it is terrible; your children lie together as man and woman.”

Mamboja sprang to his feet and marched to the tent. Following behind, Fujabi watched as he threw open the flap, revealing his children wrapped in each other’s arms. “Abomination,” shouted Mamboja, “this is an abomination, sister and brother shall not lie together; the sea will be angered.” He reached down and grabbed Shebana by the hair, pulling her to her feet. Blinking and half asleep, she pleaded, “But, father, you know we are not...”

“Silence, abomination, I should have given you to the sea with your mother. It is bad enough I was burdened with you when she was chosen, but now you are worthless, no man will take you. There is only one thing to be done with you,” he pushed her out of the tent, releasing her hair as she staggered back into the arms of the waiting crowd swiftly gathering outside.

He turned his attention to Bakara, kicking him in the stomach as he began to stir, “As for this piece of slime; he is not worthy of the people, he would be the curse of any boat he was placed in.”

“Our father by law, we have not sinned,” Bakara protested, “we have only slept, we have not lain as man and woman. And our mother told you, we are not sister and brother by blood, we...” he was cut short as Mamboja struck him across the face then pulled him to his feet and sent him stumbling after Shebana.

“Take these abominations to the place of the chosen.”

The people took the children away but Fujabi lingered by the tent, troubled by what he’d just witnessed, “My lord, they are your children by law, are you certain you must do this?”

“Do you doubt the will of the sea, captain?” Mamboja spoke to him as though he were a stranger. The threat in his voice was clear, but Fujabi pressed on, “My lord, before the sea brought you to us there were stories Bakara was not your wife’s child. Perhaps he speaks the truth?”

“I am the voice of the sea. I speak the truth. The sea chooses in many ways, captain. It may be choosing now, by allowing the chosen to doubt its word?”

Fujabi had no other option. Mamboja controlled the people for they believed he was the voice of the sea. Without another word, he left the tent and returned to his own. He packed his few belongings, took a boat, and paddled out to sea. The people never saw him again.

*

As dawn broke, the people were gathered at the place of the chosen, a small cove not far from the village. Shebana was kneeling on the sand next to Bakara, trembling with fear. Both of them were bound hand and foot, two hefty guards stood over them.

Bakara looked up at Mamboja, “Please, our father, punish me only, it was I that asked Shebana to lie with me. I was not a man with her, she is still a maiden. You can find a man for her yet. Please, father, I beg you, you need only choose me.”

Shebana was almost petrified by the icy dread gripping her heart, but she could not bear the thought of losing the boy she loved. She spoke before Mamboja could reply, “No, Bakara, I would not live without you. If we must feed the sea, we will feed the sea together.”

Mamboja nodded at the guards and they dragged the children across the beach to a set of pegs staked out in two adjacent squares. The pegs were long and heavy, extending deep beneath the surface of the sloping sand. It took two strong men to pull them out when they were replaced each spring tide.

The men forced them to lie on their backs inside the squares then tied their hands and feet to the pegs. Shebana tugged on the bindings on her wrists and ankles but they held tight, struggling only made the coarse material dig deeper into her flesh. Her fear swelled like the sea in a storm, overwhelming her senses. Looking up, she saw Mamboja standing over them, his arms open wide.

“The sea has chosen; now it shall feed. Let us hope this sacrifice may quell its anger.”

“Praise the sea for it is wise,” the people responded. Then they moved back up the beach to wait.

The tide came in, slowly but relentlessly advancing into the little cove. Shebana watched the hungry sea coming to devour them, her eyes wide with the terror raging within her. What would happen when the waves swallowed her and everything went dark? Would she just cease to exist? It couldn’t be; there had to be more. Surely her spirit, and Bakara’s, must endure somehow. But how would they find their way back to the land? How long would it take, how would they find each other again? Her doubts and fears whirled around her head as the water grew ever closer. The first time it touched her feet, she began to cry.

Bakara was crying as well, “I am sorry, Shebana, this is my fault. I should not have asked you to lie with me.”

Sensing the guilt that burdened him, she stifled her sobs and, with an effort, raised her head so she could turn to face him, “No, my love, it is not your fault. I wanted to lie with you too. If you had not asked me last night I would soon have come to you. Do not blame yourself, we were always meant to be together.” She lay back and stared at the sky, “We will feed the sea today, but one day the tide will wash us back to the land, and we shall lie with each other again.”

Before long, the water was washing over their bodies. Then it started to cover their faces and they were gasping for breath between the waves in ever-increasing desperation, instinctively hanging on to life, but wishing the torture could be over; each more distressed by the other’s suffering than their own.

Neither knew which of them died first. They fed the sea together.

*

Susan came to her senses in the midst of a coughing fit. What had just happened, some kind of hallucination? She looked at Ben, “Di-i-i-d... di-i-d you... wha-a-a-t, what...”

Before he could say anything, the door flew open. Mortimer marched in, Worthington following behind like a faithful puppy.

“Ah, the famous miracle in person; thought I would take a look for myself, see what all the fuss is about.”

Susan was still reeling from the vision. She felt deeply disturbed. It had been so vivid, like she’d actually been there, drowning on some ancient beach. She took a step back and put a hand to her head. Wow, there was that bloody headache again, suddenly flaring up out of nowhere, worse than ever. This was seriously worrying. She would have to get checked out; hallucinations and headaches were not a good sign. As an experienced neurologist, she ought to know what it meant. But self-diagnosis is a tricky business. Lack of professional detachment, that’s the problem. Christ, she hoped it wasn’t a bloody tumour. Even a benign tumour could mean surgery or radiotherapy, and this wasn’t a good time to be off sick. That would be the end of any chance at this promotion... Shit, what was Worthington waffling on about?

“... So his lordship and I thought you would be the perfect person to go with him. What do you think, Doctor Carpenter?”

“Er, sorry... go with him where?”

“To the International Neurological Conference next week. It will be an ideal opportunity to show there’s more to you than patient care; you daren’t really miss it if you’re serious about the Deputy Head post.”

Caught off guard, with a thumping headache, her throat drying out, feeling more than a little unsettled by Mortimer’s towering presence, she found herself saying, “Oh, er... yes, er... that sounds great,” before she’d given herself chance to consider what she was getting into.

“Excellent, that’s settled then,” Worthington was hopping gleefully from foot to foot beside Mortimer; “I’ll get the office to sort your flights.”

“No need for that,” interjected Mortimer, “Doctor Carpenter will come with me on my Lear. It will be nice to have some company. I find modern air travel rather tedious.”

He smiled down at Susan. Her headache got worse.