Serpent in the Mist

by Cleave Bourbon

  “No,” Kelle spoke up. “I don’t have to tell him about the marriage, but I won’t leave him to go through this alone.”

  “He isn’t alone,” Shadesilver reminded her. “He has Vesperin and Morgoran.”

  “It isn’t the same. He—”

  “I agree with Kelle,” Morgoran interrupted. “If nothing else, she will help keep him calm. As long as we don’t mention the marriage, I think it will be better to have her.” He let his eyes wander to Bren. “On the other hand, Bren might be an irritant. Why don’t you and Bren remain here until I summon you, Shadesilver? I will send for you as soon as Devyn is cured. That way, Bren is out of sight and out of mind.”

  Kelle thought he might have been just trying to separate her from Bren, but she agreed.

  Bren looked as if he might say something, but Morgoran ended the conversation abruptly. “All right, that’s settled. Go and gather your things, Kelle, and we will go find Vesperin and Devyn.”

  Chapter 16: Rugania: The Isle of Doom

  Rugania, also known as the Isle of Doom by common folk, did not appear to Devyn to be the horrific place its nickname indicated. When the old ferry finally came to rest at the dock, Devyn was almost disappointed how new and vibrant the docks seemed. They were constructed of wood, but they must have been magically protected because they were very well maintained. The docks were covered with a canopy carved and crafted with precision.

  “Morgoran,” Devyn said, “did the elves build these?” He indicated the docks.

  Morgoran was preparing to help tie off the ferry. He grabbed a thick rope and slung it on the docks. “Aye, the Siladil built them. Darovan is just across the Amarouan Sea there.” He pointed southwest. “Surprisingly, the sand elves can work wood pretty well.”

  “Do they have wood in Darovan?” Vesperin asked.

  “Certainly they do. Darovan isn’t all sand and desert. The northwestern lands have trees and even mountains.” Morgoran stopped Devyn before he took another step. “The docks are fine, but I want to do one more check before we set foot on land, so don’t go running off.”

  Melias stepped up. “The captain says he will return in one week’s time. He says he will leave here in about an hour.”

  “That’s fine, Melias, you can tell him to shove off now if it suits him. We will be fine.”

  Morgoran and the boys stepped onto the docks and headed for shore. Kelle followed. Devyn could feel the anticipation building within him. Just before the end of the docks, Morgoran made a few more incantations to check that all the preparations had been met before allowing everyone to set foot on the island.

  “It must have worked,” Devyn said after he stepped ashore. He fought the urge to run around in the grass in celebration before he realized he had not fought the urge at all and everyone was staring at him. “Sorry,” he said somberly. “I didn’t realize.”

  “No harm, Devyn, that’s why we’re here,” Morgoran said. He pointed to the pathway ahead. “Let’s get to it. The citadel is about a half hour walk. Erinthill and Brynna are expecting us.”

  Morgoran, Devyn, Vesperin, and Melias walked for about twenty minutes before they were greeted by Brynna, Ianthill’s niece. A light blue dress with a white-laced collar perfectly fit her slender elvish figure. Her facial features were soft and pleasing. Devyn, thankfully, could see no resemblance to Ianthill. Kelle lagged behind.

  “Welcome to Rugania, Master Morgoran. My mother will be pleased to see you so well.”

  “Aye, I am sure I looked a fright with clear eyes and a babbling mouth. That is all well behind me now; there are other, more pressing concerns to tend to now.”

  Brynna looked intently at Devyn. “Yes, I can see the malady within him, but it is not too late.”

  Vesperin was curious. “You are a healer?”

  “Aye, cleric of Loracia, not much different from your sect. My mother and I have healed wielders for generations, although time and ignorance has slowed business of late.” She smiled. “It is of little matter now. Let me take you to the citadel. Mother has prepared a meal for you.”

  “Great, I am starved,” Devyn said.

  Brynna guided the party up a winding path to a set of stairs that led high up onto a hill where the citadel was built solidly into and on top of a heavy rock outcropping. Spiraling towers and bold walls blended in with the rocks, making the citadel appear a bit ominous.

  A woman met them at the door. She looked like an older version of Brynna. She wore white rather than the light blue Brynna wore.

  “Welcome, friend Morgoran.” She held her arms out, and Morgoran embraced her.

  “It is pleasing to see you, Erinthill,” Morgoran said.

  “And you, as well.” She clasped her hands together. “I insist you and your wary band of travelers have a meal. I had it prepared especially for you. Your cleric, Kerad already awaits you in the dining hall.”

  “I’m certain we would be delighted to accept.”

  She moved with grace to Devyn and examined him briefly. “He is not lost to us yet. You are right to be concerned; he is far along with the malady, but not so much we cannot help him.”

  “That is good news, my lady,” Morgoran said. Devyn was surprised to see him smiling at her. He tried to remember if he had ever seen Morgoran smile before. He quickly concluded that he had not.

  “Everyone, this is Ianthill’s twin sister, Erinthill. She has invited us all to dine with her,” Morgoran said. He leaned in close to Devyn. “You are in for a rare treat!” He patted Devyn on the back. “Let’s go while it’s still hot!”

  The feast Lady Erinthill had prepared rivaled any Devyn had ever seen, and he wondered briefly where all the food had come from. Surely this island is somewhat isolated and desolate. He decided he didn’t care and shoveled some roast chicken onto his plate.

  GONDRIAL FELT SICK to his stomach. The process of bending, which the Kylerie elves were so adept at doing, made everyone but the Kylerie nauseated. As promised, Kyrie had managed to put them on the exact floor of the Sea and Fog Inn where Gondrial’s room was located. Kyrie helped Gondrial through the doorway as best he could for a person of his small stature.

  “Gondrial! For the love of Fawlsbane, what happened?” Shey exclaimed, taking over from Kyrie and helping Gondrial to the bed. Ianthill sat in a nearby armchair, awake and shaking his head. Enowene moved to help Shey. They put Gondrial on the bed while he groaned in pain.

  “I was attacked by a cutthroat. Seabrey lives up to its nefarious reputation. We could have just as easily gone south from Basillain, Sanmir.”

  “Sanmir went out for food and provisions,” Ianthill said. He had his eyes intently on Kyrie.

  Shey fluffed the pillows and made sure Gondrial was comfortable before acknowledging what everyone else in the room was wondering.

  “Kyrie, where in the world did you come from?” she asked with a somewhat suspicious tone.

  “I came from Signal Hill, of course. Morgoran sent for me. I have a message for Ianthill.”

  “Likely story,” Ianthill said. “Why would he send for you to tell me anything?”

  “Morgoran knew I could get to you quickly; at least, that is what he told me.”

  “Sorry, little one, but this time I will not be fooled. You and I have too colorful of a past. What proof do you have?”

  “Morgoran told me to say this if you didn’t believe me: ‘Listen to him, you wool-headed elf. I don’t have time to put up with foolishness. The password is Brynna’s backside and—’”

  Ianthill coughed. “That’s enough. What is the message?”

  “You believe me now?” Kyrie asked.

  “Yes, yes, aye, get on with the message.”

  “Morgoran has traveled with Devyn to the Great Sythian Forest. Queen Sildariel has stabilized Devyn’s essence sickness, but Rugania is required for the cure. Travel to Ormond’s Arch at once to rendezvous with Morgoran.”

  “If he is in Endil, how in the seven rings are we supposed to meet him in Ormond’s
Arch? He will be there months before us. Devyn would never make it that long. He must think we have a bigger Lora Daine or something.”

  “Actually, his message says that he thought you were in Trigothia. He told me to look for you there in one of the Trigothian Kingdoms.”

  “How did you find us here then?” Ianthill asked.

  Shey spoke up. “Me. He bonded with me as a young girl and has been able to find and annoy me ever since. That is, until he was trapped at Signal Hill.”

  “I still knew where you were. I just couldn’t leave.”

  “I am sure you did,” she said, “and I am glad.” She smirked to let him know she was only kidding with him.

  “It was a lucky thing he did come, or I might not have made it,” Gondrial said.

  “Which reminds me, I need to start the healing magic on you and Ianthill,” Kyrie said. “The Enforcers are sparse in these parts, but I am sure the ones still around are starting their search.” He hovered over Gondrial, speaking a strange tongue and waving his hands. White light poured out of his palms.

  Gondrial noticed the curious looks on the others’ faces. “I had to let Kyrie bend us here. It was the only way.”

  “Quickly, Shey and Enowene, we need to ward this inn,” Ianthill commanded.

  There came a short knock on the door, followed by Sanmir entering the room carrying newly procured provisions.

  “Something has a handful of Enforcers stirred up out in the street,” Sanmir said. “Do any of you know why?”

  “It’s us, as usual,” Gondrial quipped.

  Sanmir noticed Kyrie. “A new member to our party?”

  “An unavoidable one,” Gondrial said.

  “Stop fidgeting and stop talking,” Kyrie scolded.

  Ianthill sat forward in his chair. “Kyrie brings a message to us from Morgoran.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Sanmir. “What is the message?”

  “Morgoran sent me the message via the wood elves in Endil. He says for you to travel to Ormond’s Arch. Devyn’s essence sickness will require the trials at Rugania.”

  “Ormond’s Arch is months away. Do you have a plan?”

  Ianthill sat back in his chair. “We cannot travel by Lora Daine. The short bursts you conjure up would not get us across the Strait of Adracoria.”

  “Sanmir, could you duplicate the spell you used to enhance the stone’s power?” Gondrial asked. Kyrie growled with irritation. “Stop it, Kyrie, I’m not moving that much.”

  “I fear that feat was accomplished in a spur of the moment. I am not sure I could duplicate it,” Sanmir warned. “It would be too dangerous. I am surprised I got us this far.”

  Ianthill nodded. “We can go by ship across the strait, and when we reach Trigothia, we’ll go the rest of the way by foot.” He thought for a moment. “There is one other way. I have not seen it done in a thousand years, but we are strong, having four master wielders, and with the magic you possess, Sanmir, we just might be able to pull it off.”

  “Pull what off?” Sanmir asked.

  Ianthill winked at Sanmir as if to say, you’ll see. “Gondrial, do you remember the incident at Rhysen’s Bay during the War of the Oracle?”

  “Aye, we were outnumbered and retreating by ship. Dramyds were flying around dropping fire on us and . . . Oh, I see what you are up to. Can you still accomplish such a feat? I haven’t seen it done since the war, and even then it was a difficult trick.”

  “Aye, with a little help from all of you, it should be fine.”

  Lady Shey and Enowene finished packing the new provisions.

  Kyrie jumped down from the bed and found a small stool nearby to sit on. “There, all done. You are not completely healed yet, Gondrial, so don’t try to lift heavy objects, but you are healed enough to get around. Now you, Ianthill.” Kyrie started pulling at Ianthill’s robes.

  “I am fine, Kyrie. I heal fast. I am an elf, remember? Get down.”

  “Fine,” Kyrie said. He found a spot next to Gondrial and sat on the bed.

  “Were any of the ships in dry dock, Gondrial?” Ianthill asked.

  “I am not sure. I wasn’t looking for one. I did see a nice clipper. I am not sure it is still docked.”

  “Why don’t you and Sanmir go down to the docks and find us a ship. Are you up to the task?”

  “Kyrie healed me up pretty well. I feel fine.”

  “Good, you know about what size she should be,” Ianthill said.

  “Wait a moment,” Sanmir interjected. “I thought a ship would be too slow. We are going by ship now?”

  Shey lit up as she caught on. “Aye, we are going by ship, but it won’t be slow.”

  “Now you have it!” Ianthill exclaimed, pointing a finger at Shey.

  Gondrial got down off the bed and patted Sanmir on the back. “Let me get out of these bloody clothes and we will go find us a ship to steal.”

  Sanmir abruptly caught on. “Oh, no, you are going to do what I think you are, surely.”

  “Aye, my old friend, this should be quite an adventure,” Gondrial said with excitement.

  AFTER THE MEAL, BRYNNA showed each of the party to their rooms before they all met in the common room. Erinthill, Kerad, and Brynna took Devyn aside to an adjoining antechamber for a more thorough exam. When they returned to the common room, Erinthill’s concern was apparent on her face. “The Isle of Doom is affecting him, Morgoran. We will have to forego some of the ritual and let him take the trial early.”

  “I agree with Erinthill,” Kerad said.

  “Affecting him how, exactly?”

  “He grows worse by the hour. He is already showing signs far more advanced than when you arrived,” Brynna lamented.

  “I can’t figure this out. Surely the state of affairs pertaining to wielding hasn’t been allowed to deteriorate this much. Look at him, for Fawl’s sake. I have never seen essence sickness like this before. In the old days, it was almost laughable.”

  “In the old days, his training here on the isle would have cured it. I have seen this kind of sickness before, long ago. It resembles the sickness mindwielders go through,” Erinthill said.

  “Mindwielders?” Morgoran perked up at the word. “No mindwielder I ever knew had any kind of essence sickness.”

  “It’s not the essence that makes them sick. All of their power comes from the mind; it’s the mind that breaks.”

  “Devyn is no mindwielder. Nothing he has done has given me that indication.” His demeanor intensified. “What about tradition? No wielder has ever skipped the rituals.”

  Erinthill moved to grip Morgoran by the shoulders so she could look him directly in the eyes. “Morgoran, my friend, I beg you to put him through the trial tonight. There is no time for ritual or anything connected to the old days. None of that will have any bearing on the actual trial or its outcome. The old rituals were just for show. Take him to the Hall of Ancients.”

  Morgoran sighed. “I suppose the old days are gone. It is a shame that I am helping to begin a new generation of wielders without adhering to our customs and traditions. I guess they are just foolish nonsense.”

  “They are not foolish ways, dear. We will still honor them when the time comes. This is just an extreme case. A case you do not seem to grasp is of the utmost seriousness. ”

  Morgoran strengthened his resolve. “Very well, let’s get Devyn to the Hall of Ancients tonight.”

  “Good, we can get this issue solved before the madness I sense in him becomes too much to handle.”

  Morgoran halted. “Madness? What madness?”

  Erinthill took Morgoran’s hand and whispered in his ear. “I know you do not want to believe his malady is of any origin besides essence, but you do know he is descended from Marella, one of the most powerful mindwielders ever known. His sickness is unique, and I fear he will go mad if we do not get him help right now.”

  Morgoran gestured to Devyn. “Come on, lad, let us get you to the Chamber of Ancients and get you well.”

  Devyn complied, n
ot wishing to give away that he heard Erinthill’s whisper. He would have to look up this Marella and find out who she was.

  AS LUCK WOULD HAVE it, a ship called The Shooting Star had just had her hull repaired in dry dock and still rested upon the scaffolding. She would be returned to the water in the morning. As such, she was unmanned and guarded by a scant company of lesser crew members. Gondrial suspected that the real crew had been disbanded and hired onto other ships, and that the captain of The Shooting Star, even now, perused the taverns and places of ill repute, looking to hire on new sailors. Only five scruffy sailors guarded the ship. Gondrial and Lady Shey sneaked up under the dry dock directly behind one of them.

  “Do you wish for me to teach you the sleep spell, my lady?” Gondrial whispered in Shey’s ear.

  “You seem to bring that up at the most inopportune times.”

  “We forget about it until we need it, don’t we, my lady?”

  “So it would seem. Now put that sailor out.” She pointed directly ahead.

  Gondrial whispered a few words, and the sailor collapsed.

  “Kenning, get back up!” a voice Gondrial presumed was another sailor shouted. “No sleeping on the job!”

  “Damn it,” Gondrial swore. “Do you see him?”

  “Aye, he is walking up the side of the ship from the west,” Lady Shey answered.

  “I can’t see him.”

  The sailor started moving toward his companion in a run.

  “He is going to sound the alarm,” Lady Shey warned.

  “There you are, my friend,” Gondrial said as the sailor came into his view. He mumbled a few words, and the sailor collapsed on top of his companion as he ran up to him. “Got you! Haha!”

  Lady Shey stifled a giggle.

  “What was that? Are you having a bit of fun, my lady?”

  “Let’s just get to the other guards,” she said.