This is the essence of life itself. Traveling, exploring, going into danger, all of these were things that he loved. They made him feel alive. If I have to spend the rest of my life imprisoned in Anturasikun, I will die.

He glanced down at Shimik, who stood beside him, legs spread, paws on hips. Shimik looked up at him and grinned with a mouthful of peg teeth.

“I know, Shimik, this is wonderful.”

The journey up the coast took most of the afternoon, but with a steady wind they made good time and put into the harbor with no difficulty. But though they had traveled close to the shore on the way up, and the sharpest-eyed watchmen had been on duty, they’d seen no sign of the Mozoyan.

The ship’s commander, Lieutenant Myrasi Wueltan, lowered the ship’s boats and landed the troops quickly. Two trips for each boat got all the troops ashore, and despite the disparate array of weapons and armor between the two contingents, they all moved quickly to secure the white sandy beach.

Shimik clung to Jorim’s back as the cartographer joined Tzihua near the head of the column moving inland. The scouts had seen nothing so far, but they had only penetrated the thick rain forest a hundred yards or so. The undergrowth made it hard to see and even harder to travel. Soldiers using steel swords or obsidian-edged war clubs hacked a path through the jungle.

Despite the noise of their passage, the animals did not seem the least bit concerned. A troop of tiger-striped monkeys happily derided their efforts and even pelted some of them with the green rinds from ichoitz fruit. Shimik mimicked their calls accurately enough that one bull dropped through the canopy to a branch twenty feet up, started shaking it and hooting loudly.

The Fenn leaped from Jorim’s back, scrambled along another branch and headed straight for the bull. They hollered at each other, shaking branches and posturing. Jorim feared there would be a fight, but then Shimik flashed his claws at the monkey and the monkey fled in terror.

Shimik dropped to the ground and accepted the exaggerated bows offered by all of the warriors.

The column carved a track for another hundred yards before the scouts reported back again. They’d reached the road the boy had used to make his run south. They saw no sign of his passing, nor any of the Mozoyan. As nearly as they could tell, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jorim frowned. “Twelve hours ago, the Mozoyan raided Micyan, and have not headed south. I can’t imagine they expected we would be warned.”

Tzihua shook his head. “You have seen them in combat. They do not think.”

“Then why the raid?”

“The most simple reason of all. They were hungry.”

“You think these were stragglers? Would there have been enough to overwhelm a village?”

The Amentzutl giant shrugged. “We tracked the survivors as far north as possible. Most died; a few disappeared. They were not made for life on land. Those that lived returned to the sea.”

Jorim nodded. While they’d located the place where the Mozoyan had gathered for their attack on Nemehyan, they’d found no ships, boats, or any other indication of how the Mozoyan had reached land. They concluded the enemy had swum to shore, and the idea of a sea filled with man-sized demon-frogs with mouths full of shark’s teeth was enough to fuel Jorim’s nightmares.

“Sending troops along the road to Micyan is the best plan.” Jorim thought for a moment. “We probably should have the Blackshark head up the coast and see if there is any sign of the Mozoyan. I don’t think they could have cut a path as we did, but they might have come ashore anywhere, and it would be useful to know where.”

“I agree.”

“Good. I’ll run back and let Lieutenant Wueltan know what we want, then I’ll come and join you for the march.”

Tzihua smiled. “It will be good to have Tetcomchoa leading us.”

“I’ll tell him you said that if I see him.” Jorim cut back through the troops and Shimik raced above him through the trees. The Naleni troops were bringing up the column’s rear, so Jorim briefed their leader on the plan. He refused the offer of bodyguards for his trip to the shore and sent them on their way.

As he reached the beach, he realized something was wrong. Neither birds nor monkeys had harassed him. He’d just assumed Shimik had scared them off, and kept assuming that until he reached the beach and Shimik cowered behind him, peeking out between his legs.

More than the Blackshark inhabited the cove. At first he couldn’t tell what it was, because it was as long as the ship, and somehow that didn’t seem possible. The front part of it stood open-again something not possible for a ship-and all sorts of creatures were crawling out of the opening. They’d already swarmed over the Blackshark-and sailors who dove overboard and began swimming to shore, were dragged under by unseen assailants.

Though he was not terribly close to the ship, Jorim knew these Mozoyan were different. The first he’d seen had been fishlike. Those which attacked Nemehyan were truly demon-frogs, but still slender. These Mozoyan had a thicker silhouette, more apelike than simple toad. The way they swung from the ship’s ratlines and dropped from crosspieces emphasized this impression.

Beyond that, two things became immediately apparent. The first was that the ship was likely lost. Second, the Mozoyan were coming ashore and that as valiant as the warriors were, sheer numbers alone would overwhelm them. They had no chance to prepare defenses, as hulking Mozoyan had already begun to bob and swim toward shore. The slaughter would be complete and the Mozoyan would feast on men as men had feasted on the Mozoyan dead on the plains before Nemehyan.

Then another of the things containing the Mozoyan surfaced. It opened its mouth and more Mozoyan began to emerge.

Shimik’s terrified mewing brought Jorim out of his fugue. “Shimik, find Tzihua. Tell him to run fast fast. Go fast now, Shimik. Go. I have to do something.”

“Jrima stay?”

“Yes, I’m staying, but you have to go, quickly. Now. Very important. Go.”

The Fenn darted off down the jungle path. He stopped, looked back at Jorim, waved, then leaped into the trees and disappeared.

Jorim turned back to the harbor and narrowed his eyes. “It’s all about balance and essence.” He tore off his overshirt and robe, baring his chest. Facing the harbor and the dying sun, he stepped forward until he was knee deep in water. He ignored the Mozoyan and closed his eyes.

He focused on the warmth of the sun as it touched his flesh and hair. He felt the water lapping around his legs-very warm this close to shore, but leaving a chill as it drained away from him with each gentle swell. He let himself feel their essence. The water, fluid; the sun, hot. He sought the warmth in the water, the fluidity in the way the sunlight undulated over the water.

Then he reached out and touched the mai.

It was all about balance, and now he sought to shift the balance radically. He had no idea if he could do it or if the effort would kill him. Still, it was the only chance to save his friends. So he reached within himself as well, binding his essence to the mai, then channeling the mai into the water.

The balance he sought to shift was simple, but the scale on which he wanted to do it was incredibly vast. I want to make the sea boil. Transforming the cove from fluid to vapor was possible, though he’d heard no tales of such a titanic task being accomplished before.

Chances are, anyone foolish enough to attempt it died before the first wisp of steam rose.

He opened his eyes and all he saw were Mozoyan drawing nearer. One of them was a stone’s throw away. It opened its mouth, revealing the shark’s teeth he’d seen before. Its black eyes locked on his and Jorim found himself looking at his doom.

Then it hit him. Right idea, wrong application.