by R C Gray
“Any questions for me, Braig?” the captain said, looking down, her eyebrows raised.
“Uh, no. I got it.”
“Let’s hope you do. Get settled in, we leave within the hour.” The captain nodded to Ferhani and strode briskly across the deck, barking orders and checking knots as she went.
“That’s a fine woman,” Faine said as he turned towards Renna.
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. The last thing we need is for you to get us all tossed overboard for doing something foolish.” Renna put her hands on her hips as she squinted her eyes.
“Fine. You’re no fun. I guess I’ll just go coil some rope or something. Not like I’ll be doing anything else for a while,” Faine said, turning away and walking over to speak with a few of the deckhands.
Seeing several of the crew pointing out towards the horizon, Renna stepped over to Ferhani and leaned over the railing, watching as a large ship pulled into the harbor. Huge white sails billowed out from three tall masts, each accented in bright yellow trim with a white flag bearing the gold and red lion crest of House Egara.
Straining her eyes, she could see harpoons fastened to the dark brown ship, each fitted with long polished spears. The bow bobbed and swayed as the sails began to lower, and paddles emerged from portholes in the side of the ship, helping to guide them to the dock. Glinting in the sun at the bow of the vessel, a large bowsprit reinforced with metal rods and tipped with a bright yellow speartip stood out against the light blue of the horizon.
“What ship is that?” Skara said, moving to stand next to Renna.
“That,” Ferhani said, pushing them away from the railing, “is the Sun Spear. It’s a warship from House Egara. They use the bowsprit or harpoons to hold a ship in place to board it. And if you were supposed to be taken back to see the king, that’s the ship that was going to take you there. No one should know you’re here, but to be safe, hurry up and get back down below decks until we leave port. And take the elf with you.”
Motioning to Faine and Skara to follow, Renna opened the hatch as she waited for them to descend before looking up at Braig.
“Wait,” Ferhani said, grabbing his arm.
Shaking his head at Renna, he watched her close the hatch as he moved out of sight of the Sun Spear.
“I wanted to give you this.”
“What is it?” Braig said, looking down at the bottle in his hands. “A bottle of your red potion?”
Ferhani shook her head and closed Braig’s hand around the bottle. “It’s one of my strongest. It can heal almost anything as long as you’re alive to take it.”
Squeezing the bottle, Braig put his hand over Ferhani’s, looking up into her eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us...for all you’ve done for me. I didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Sometimes, things happen whether we deserve them or not—good or bad. It’s just a part of life. Now,” Ferhani said, stepping back, “I want you to take care of yourself out there. I hope you find whatever it is your looking for.”
“And what if what I’m looking for is somewhere else?” he said, looking up into her eyes.
Ferhani smiled as she turned and strode across the deck, glancing back over her shoulder as she stepped up onto the gangplank. “Then make sure to stay alive long enough to find it when you’re ready.”
Braig watched the shoreline growing smaller in the distance as the Banshee cut through the waves, gliding out onto the open sea. Climbing up from below decks, Faine, Renna, and Skara stood beside their friend as they looked back towards Mivara.
“Didn’t I tell you it was worth seeing?” Faine said, clapping Skara on the shoulder.
Holding onto the railing, Skara gazed out over the water, his eyes wide. Behind them, the Sanguine Gulf stretched out to the shoreline, the soft, flowing red kelp garden moving below just below the surface, like drops of crimson blood shimmering in the clearest blue.
THE SUN SPEAR ROWED to the docks at the Mivara harbor, casting ropes to the dockhands below. Once the ship was secured, the crew lowered the gangplank, preparing to head to the shore.
“Stay close to the ship. We’re here for business, not pleasure,” Duelm said, tying on his white cloak.
“Yes, sir,” several of the crew said, putting their fists over their chest as the commander walked by.
“Start loading the supplies before I get back. We put the prisoners in the brig, take a night to ourselves, and set sail for Ethilios in the morning.” The commander smiled, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. “You two, come with me to escort the prisoners.”
Stepping out onto the dock, Duelm turned his head, searching for any of the guards from Stonekeep that should have been waiting to meet him. Moving farther up the pier, he waived to the dockmaster, drawing his attention as he weaved between workers and fishermen.
“Mornin’,” the dockmaster said as he closed his ledger. “What can I do fer ya?”
“I’m here for several prisoners. I was told there would be guards from Stonekeep here to meet me. Have you seen them around?”
The dockmaster scratched his scraggly white beard. “No, can’t say that I have. Last I heard they was havin’ some problems up there at the prison.”
Duelm clenched his jaw. “What kind of problems?”
“Can’t say fer sure. Somethin’ to do with a tower collapsin’ or the fire.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Duelm looked up towards the city. “And which way is it to the prison?”
“Eh, not too far from here. The dock district stretches out a good distance that way, but if you follow this lane up and that way, you should come across it. Large stone building in a big field, can’t miss it.”
“And I don’t suppose you have any horses we could use?”
“Can’t say that I do,” the dockmaster said as he flipped open his ledger, making notes as he looked out over the ships.
Clenching his fists, Duelm strode up the side of the long street, pushing his way through the crowds of people that swarmed around the open-air stalls and shops. Stopping to ask for directions several times, he was led down several side roads before eventually seeing the wide stone fortress rising up out of the field just ahead of him.
Stepping into the clearing, he could see that only three of the four perimeter towers stood. The main gate was closed, and multiple guards and hired hands rushed around the fortress, hauling wagons of bricks and mortar as they cleared away the pieces of the fallen tower, using any salvageable stones to repair it.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he walked up to the main gate, glancing at the burned trees that still smoked a short distance away before banging on one of the wooden doors leading into the tower. Hearing the squeak of a small hatch opening on the door in front of him, Duelm leaned closer, waiting as a pair of eyes peered out at him from behind the door.
“What do you want? I already told you lot that you don’t get paid until the end of the day. Now get back to work.”
The small hatch slammed shut as Duelm looked over at the two guards he had brought with him from the Sun Spear. Banging harder on the door, the hatch flung open again, two narrowed eyes glaring out at him.
“What did I just say?”
Stepping forward, Duelm put his face up to the door and looked the guard in the eyes. “Close that hatch one more time, and you’ll be cleaning up the rubble from another one of your towers. I’ve been sent here for two of your prisoners. Now open up this damn door before I break it down.”
Closing the hatch, the guard opened the door, stepping out from the gatehouse. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with, then?”
Scowling, Duelm waved his hand towards the keep. “What happened here?”
“We had a couple prisoners escape last night. They had a bit of help from someone outside.”
“Who?” Duelm said, stepping closer to the guard. “Who escaped?”
“Just some drunk elf and a goblin, that’s
it. The tower fell into the yard, no one else got out.”
“But you managed to catch them, right?”
The guard turned his gaze down and rubbed the back of his neck. “No. We chased them down the streets, but it turned out to just be a couple of empty wagons being pulled around.”
Duelm slammed his fist into the wall next to the guard's head. “So, you’re telling me that you lost the prisoners I sailed here to get because they had help from the outside. Tell me, how does someone bring down the tower of a keep, and fend off numerous guards?”
“They must’ve had magic. Vines just sprang up out of the ground and took down the tower and back wall. Fireballs and arrows came from the forest before it burned. We sent a few guards out into the woods last night, but whoever was out there killed ‘em. They even turned our own commander on us.”
“What do you mean?”
The guard stepped out from the main gate and pointed in the direction of the field leading to the back of shops in the dock district. “I mean that they set him on fire and sent him after us. We saw a few people running away, but we couldn’t make out who they were. We were too busy trying to fight off that monster. Lost some good people here last night.”
Stepping out onto the road, Duelm looked out towards the field. “How long ago did this happen?”
“I don’t know...maybe six hours. We’ve had men out looking all night, but they haven’t found anything.”
“And where do you think someone could go if they wanted to get away in a hurry?” Duelm said, staring at the man.
“Most likely hiding out somew-”
“To the docks!” Duelm said, shaking his hands in the air. “Have you even bothered to check there yet?”
“We had someone ride by, but they didn’t see anything suspicious there.”
“And you wouldn’t see anything if they were already on board.” Popping his neck, Duelm looked at the man once more and pulled his gloves on tighter. “I’m leaving within the hour. If you have any more information, bring it to the Sun Spear down at the docks.”
Walking swiftly down the side roads to avoid the crowds, Duelm made his way back towards the docks, waiving once more to the dockmaster as he approached.
“What can I do fer ya?”
“How many ships left port this morning?”
Flipping through his notes, the dockmaster ran his fingers across the page, his mouth moving silently. “Three out so far, two in.”
“Have you seen any of the ships before today?”
“Course I have. They come and go from here every few weeks or so.”
Duelm glanced out at his ship as workers loaded crates of supplies. “Any of them leave a bit earlier than usual?”
“Don’t think so. One left early, but it happens sometimes if they’re running a tight crew.”
“Which ship was it?”
“The Banshee, I believe,” the dockmaster said as he checked his ledger.
“The dark grey ship with the burgundy sails?”
“That’s the one.”
“Where were they headed?”
Closing his book with a clap, the dockmaster looked out over the ships bobbing in the water. “That’s not really information I should be givin’ out. They’re fine traders just trying to run a business and stay afloat like the rest of us.”
Reaching into a coin purse on his belt, Duelm pulled out two large gold coins. “These are gold marks. These can be broken into four pieces each, which is equivalent to around eight gold coins. You tell me where they’re heading, and they’re yours.”
The dockmaster eyed the coins as he rubbed his fingers together. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I take the book anyway and have you drowned for interfering with royal business. Now, what’s your choice?”
“I’ll take the coins,” the dockmaster said, opening his book. “They’re heading south to Solis. It doesn’t say which port, but if I had to guess, I’d say the one on the northern point.”
Handing the coins to the dockmaster, Duelm turned and walked swiftly down the dock, his white cloak billowing out behind him.
“How long until the supplies are loaded?” he said, stepping onto the deck of the Sun Spear.
“We should be ready to sail in less than an hour.”
“Good. Send out a raven to Sonosa. Tell them the prisoners have escaped Stonekeep, and we’re in pursuit. We’ll send word when they’ve been captured.”
“And where should I tell them we’re heading, sir?”
“Tell them we’re going to see the elves. Tell them we’re going to Solis.”
Shores of Solis
Skara clung to the bottom leg of the bunk as the ship rocked and heaved. Heavy waves pounded the hull as most of the crew hunkered below decks riding out the storm. His stomach rolled, and he felt as if he was going to be sick at any moment. The bucket Faine had brought down for them earlier slid back and forth across the floor, slamming against one wall before being thrown against another.
Above him, he could hear Renna moaning as she stumbled out of bed, keeping her arms outstretched for balance as she followed the bucket, quickly grabbing hold just as she became sick. The acrid smell of vomit filled the room as Skara closed his eyes and gripped the small antler necklace hanging around his neck. The rune carved into its surface was supposed to help protect him from harm, but he wasn’t sure if its power would work against something as powerful as a storm at sea.
Rubbing his finger over the carving, he saw water dripping down from the ceiling as the waves crashed over the deck above, threatening to take anything not tied down back into the savage waters to be lost and consumed in their fury. A flash of his small home back in Banrielle pushed itself into his mind, and for a moment, he felt a pang of homesickness well up inside him.
Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on the bunk leg and tried to push the thought from his head. He couldn’t go back there now, even if he wanted to. But despite everything he’d gone through so far, including the storm, he wasn’t sure if he would change any of it. If he had stayed back in Banrielle, he would have still been alone, sitting night after night hoping that something would eventually change; hoping for some catalyst that would force him to do something different with his life.
And even though he would still be safe and comfortable, he knew he never would have left—or taken his revenge on the brothers and felt their blood on his hands. And sometimes, he thought, rubbing his fingers together, it was almost as if he could still feel it there, soaked deep into his skin, unable to be washed away. But he wasn’t sure if that bothered him anymore.
He had been broken and remade into something different, something more. He was a shadow now, a knife in the dark. And although it nearly got him killed, he was glad that he stumbled across Faine in that cave. If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t be here now. But given the current situation, he didn’t know if that was for better or worse.
The crash of Renna being slammed into the bed pulled him from his thoughts. Scrambling out of the way, the wooden bucket slipped from her hands, splashing vomit across the room as it clattered to the floor.
“When will it stop?” Renna said as she climbed back into bed, the swaying of the ship pulling her back and forth.
“By the stone! It has to stop sometime. And where the hell is that blasted elf?” Braig said, holding himself tight against a crate in the corner.
Climbing out from underneath the bed, Skara pivoted around the vomit on the floor as he climbed onto the end of the bottom bunk near Renna’s feet, moving closer to talk to Braig without having to shout. “He said he was going to stay up on the deck with Lorsan in case she needs a hand.”
“That’s what he says, but I think he’s got more on his mind than that. I just hope he’s not floating face down in the water somewhere,” Renna said, her face a bit more green than usual. “I need the bucket. Someone get me the-”
Leaning over the side of the bed, Renna lurched, gripping the edge of the mattre
ss as she tried not to roll off onto the floor. Her mouth hung open, drool dripping out onto the floor.
“I don’t think you have anything left in there,” Braig said as he turned his head away, trying to hold in his own breakfast.
A loud banging sounded down the hallway as the hatch to the main deck slammed shut. The wind howled outside as the boards creaked around them, water soaking their belongings.
“Who’s out there?” Braig said, reaching for the bucket on the floor, ready to use it as a weapon if someone burst into their room looking for a fight.
The wooden door to their room flung open wide as Faine stood in the hallway, holding onto the frame for support. His white shirt was soaked and transparent against his skin, the dark tattoos looking muddled under the drenched fabric. His blonde hair hung in loose strands, clinging tightly to his shaven face. Water dripped from his wrinkled skin as he steadied himself and tried to catch his breath.
Letting out a sharp laugh, Renna sat up in bed and stared at Faine. “You look like a drowned sewer rat,” she managed to say before she coughed, nearly gagging and retching onto the floor.
“What’s the word?” Braig said.
“We can see the coast of Solis in the distance. It’s hard to see, but it’s there.”
“Thank I’Lurian,” Renna said. “Are we going into port soon?”
Faine shook his head, water dripping from the loose strands of hair around his face. “No. We have to stay out at sea until the storm passes. If we get too close, the rocks’ll rip the ship apart.”
“Then what are we supposed to do, just float out here and risk being killed by the waves?” Braig said, gripping the hammock as another massive swell rolled into the ship. “Those’ll kill us if we just stay out here doing nothin’ but bobbing up and down on the water.”
“Lorsan says we should make it. She’s been at the helm keeping us above the water the whole time. She says that she’s been through worse than this before.”
