Summer's Fall

by Carol E. Leever

  "Is you going to spy on me?" Tyrin asked from his perch on Kyr's shoulder. The little cat's tail lashed back and forth.

  "No." Dev shook his head emphatically. "In fact I was told most pointedly by Avarice that I was not to inform her of anything either you or Tormy did."

  Tyrin's whiskers flared at that, and his amber eyes narrowed. "Not fair!" The little cat punctuated his unhappiness with a strident meow!

  Dev tried not to laugh.

  Tormy stalked toward the group, sat down beside them with purpose and folded his tail around his paws.

  Dev noticed with some alarm that even seated Tormy was taller than he was.

  "Yes. Not fair." Tormy gave Dev half a dozen short sniffs. "On account of the fact that we is very interestinglyness."

  "Most interestinglyness!" Tyrin agreed.

  "My apologies." Dev inclined his head to both of the cats. Inwardly, he laughed at the looks on both Omen's and Shalonie's faces as they realized what he was doing. "Would the two of you like me to spy on you as a personal favor?"

  "Yes!" the cats both agreed in unison, and Omen sighed heavily.

  Dev flashed them a grin. "Consider it done."

  "Are you green?" Kyr asked, and Dev blinked, caught momentarily off guard. He looked toward Omen for an explanation, but small Tyrin seemed to take matters swiftly in paw.

  "He is Dev, Kyr," Tyrin informed him. "And he is really real which is sort of green on account of the fact that you is liking green. And he is writing letters for us to Avarice so we is telling her all the new words we is learning."

  "I like studying my letters," Kyr announced, and then reached out and very slowly and deliberately poked Dev in the shoulder, his face set in an expression of wariness as if unsure what to expect. Judging by Omen's glower, Dev guessed he was not supposed to react. He graciously allowed Kyr to complete his peculiar and uninvited prodding.

  Kyr smiled when his finger came in contact with the leather of Dev's coat, and he nodded toward his brother — satisfied. "He's not imaginary, Omen," the boy said solemnly.

  "Glad to hear it, Kyr." Omen smiled back dolefully. "Come on, let's keep going."

  Guessing he wasn't going to get an explanation for the boy's odd behavior, Dev fell into step beside them. Avarice did warn me that Kyr was a handful. Maybe Cerioth's blood breeds madness?

  The fish merchants along the pier all noted the presence of the two cats and swiftly began setting out their meager catch in an effort to garner the felines' attention. The enterprising tactics worked splendidly. Tormy's tail twitched widely as they set foot on the merchants' boardwalk. No doubt, living in Melia, Omen had spent hours exploring the shops, stalls and taverns, seeking exotic items from foreign lands. He likely spent more than his fair share at the markets purchasing tuna and swordfish, clams and crabs for his hungry cat.

  "Omy . . ." Tormy purred searchingly, his nose twitching with interest.

  "I guess a shrimp or two can't hurt," Omen said and flicked a coin to a nearby runner. "Bag of wiggles for the cats."

  The Melian boy snatched up the coin in mid-stride. "My lord." He tipped his cap.

  The young runner returned shortly with a large paper-wrapped bundle brimming with near-transparent raw crustaceans. Omen tossed another coin to the boy. "Walk with us, so the cat can keep moving while he eats. And fling a small one to the tiny fluffball."

  Not fazed by the request, the boy peeled open the paper wrapped around the collection of large Melian shrimp. He snagged a bite-sized critter with extra long antennae and flicked it to Tyrin who was still seated upon Kyr's shoulder. The orange kitten snatched the treat from the air with itty-bitty razor claws and bit down heartily. Dev had to laugh at the sight. Shrimp is almost the size of the cat.

  "Pity we can't simply portal to Kharakhan. We could be there and back again before dinner," Omen said as they walked along the boardwalk toward the pier where their vessel was waiting.

  Dev had to agree it would have been far preferable. He didn't much care for ocean travel. And despite his flippant remarks to Omen the day before, he didn't relish the possibility of meeting the Widow Maker far out at sea.

  "There are no established portals between Melia and Kharakhan," Shalonie said earnestly. "I can work on setting one up once we're there, but don't forget it took your father and me three months to set up the first portal to Lydon."

  "But only one month to set up the one to Terizkand," Omen said encouragingly.

  And much appreciated. The transfer portal in the Daenoth Manor had allowed Dev to travel instantaneously from Terizkand to Melia. He looked at Shalonie with new respect.

  The young woman conceded with a nod. "We learned a lot the first time. But Kharakhan has other issues — random magical energies that like to corrupt teleport spells. A corrupted teleport spell could rip you apart and scatter you across the world. You wouldn't want to take the chance. Setting up a stable portal will be challenging." She shaded her eyes against the bright glare of the sun and studied his face. "We'll be fine. I suspect your father injured the Widow Maker more than he let on."

  "Probably," Omen agreed, too quickly.

  Dev didn't feel particularly confident.

  Omen stopped abruptly, a wide smile crossing his face. "There she is — the Golden Voyage, my grandmother's flagship."

  They'd rounded a corner of stalls and now had a clear view of all the ships docked in the deep-water bay along the wharf. Dev's eyes widened when he realized which ship Omen was referring to.

  "Kadana's ship is fantastic!" Shalonie exclaimed, admiring the gleaming green and gold vessel.

  They surveyed the galleon. The Golden Voyage would be their home for several weeks, if the crossing to Kharakhan went smoothly. Sporting three tall masts, the Golden Voyage wasn't much bigger than the other anchored ships, but judging by the enormous crates that were disappearing into its depths through the great opening on the main deck, Dev guessed this ship was crafted with elaborate enchantments that contained hidden holds and magical rooms, which could expand beyond its given physical dimensions. If Kadana is the only captain brave enough to set sail at the moment, I'm guessing the ship will be packed to the brim with goods.

  "That's Ven'tarian made," Dev said, calculating the market value of the vessel. Worth a king's ransom. Ironic. He noticed the dark shape of a little monkey swinging from one of the mast ropes and couldn't help wonder how the little creature would get along with the two cats.

  "Grandmother bragged that her ship is the height of comfort and there would be plenty of room for Tormy," Omen told them.

  "Do you know how rare a Ven'tarian galleon is?" Shalonie spoke in a hushed, almost reverent voice. "The spells are woven so tight, legend says the ship repels water like a duck. It's priceless. How did Kadana come by it?"

  "She told my dad she won it in a card game," Omen said, his tone suggesting he was unsure if it had been the truth or a joke. "Come to think of it, there are a lot of things she claims to have won in card games."

  "Look at all the water!" Kyr exclaimed in delight, ignoring the brilliant galleon before him and looking past the twisting ropes, the furled sails, and high decks where hardworking sailors prepared for departure at a devilish pace. Kyr had eyes only for the great swells of waves crashing beyond the port's breakwater. "I bet there's fish out there."

  "Fish!" Tormy mumbled, still chewing. "I is loving fish! Fish is being good — is we getting fish? I is wanting fish, Omy. Is you cooking us fish now, Omy? It must be being lunch time!"

  Dev found himself impressed with the cat's appetite despite being forewarned. He'd seen the elaborate spread in the Daenoth dining room that morning. He had no doubt Omen and the cats had just come from breakfast. And now the cat is hungry again. Feeding that bottomless stomach may become a problem.

  "You are eating shrimp right now!" Omen reminded the cat.

  "They is empty," Tormy complained. He looked at the crumpled paper wrapper with sad eyes, transparent swimmerets still stuck between his teeth.

/>   The Melian runner looked at Omen, hopeful.

  "Fine. Another helping." Omen handed a small coin pouch to the boy. "Have them wrap up a couple of their largest tunas too. He'll be hungry when he gets on board."

  The boy dashed away.

  "The never-ending gullet," Shalonie teased blithely. "Good thing they're so cute."

  Tormy and Tyrin preened in unison.

  "Now settle down, Tormy." Omen patted the cat's hind leg. "We're going to Kharakhan. We're getting on Kadana's ship, remember?"

  "I 'member 'member. I is liking Grandma Kadana!" Tormy chirped happily. Just then, they spied Kadana emerging from the main cabin onto the deck. "Hello, Grandma Kadana!" the cat called out.

  Dev took in the appearance of Kadana Deldano, the ship's owner and captain. While he knew cursory stories about the Deldanos, he had never met any of them, and Kadana's appearance was not quite what he was expecting. From what he understood, the matriarch of the Deldano clan was entirely human despite the mixed heritage of some of her descendants, and she'd fought in several of the Kharakhian wars. She should have been well into her seventies, and while magic could go a long way toward prolonging youth, it usually required at least a trace of non-human blood to work. The woman who had stepped out onto the deck of the Golden Voyage was young and strong. Dressed in leathers dyed in the green and gold of the Deldano crest, Kadana stood taller than most men, her muscular form lean and hard from long years of battle. Her honey gold curls pulled back with a leather tie revealed a tanned, smiling face.

  "Omen, did you say Kadana is your grandmother?" Dev interrupted. "She looks like she's in her thirties. Is she a Melian?" He knew that though technically human, the Melians aged much slower than people of other nations, blessed with long life by their draconic guardians.

  "Don't be a dolt," Omen said gruffly. "She's from Kharakhan. Born and raised."

  Kadana shouted out rapid-fire orders in a robust voice that carried well past the deck of the Ven'tarian galleon. The sailors responded without hesitation, obeying swiftly with the effort of workers aiming to please a valued leader.

  They clearly respect her.

  "So, whose mother is she?" Dev continued his inquiry, though he already knew the answer. He could see Omen beginning to prickle at the blunt questions about his heritage and wondered how long it would take him to realize Dev only asked because Omen's reaction was so amusing. "She's not 7's or Avarice's?"

  "Neither. She's Beren's mother. Deldano obviously."

  "Right, how exactly are you related to Beren again?" Dev needled. "You never really explained that part."

  Omen sighed. "Beren is a bardic healer. When I was born . . . You know what, I don't want to talk about it. It's none of your business."

  "Do you call her grandma?" Dev pressed.

  "Shut up!" Omen waved a gauntleted hand. "Kadana, over here."

  Kadana waved back, motioning them aboard and directing them toward the gangplank. Omen nodded and steered Kyr forward.

  "Are we going swimming?" the boy asked, utterly bewildered.

  "No Kyr, we're getting on the ship," Omen said.

  "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Tormy fluffed his ruff and dug his claws into the wooden planks of the wharf. His voice rose with each iteration of wait. "We is doing what? Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! No one is saying anything about a ship! A ship that's in the water. Water is wet, wet is bad. I is not bad, I is good. I is not getting wet!"

  Now I understand why Avarice and 7 didn't want to accompany Omen to the docks! Dev bit back the laugh engendered by the sudden realization on Omen's face. The young man looked at his cat with baffled trepidation.

  "Is there a ship?" Kyr asked in confusion. "Is it real? I see water. I don't think I know how to swim. Do you want me to try to swim, Omen?"

  Omen's look of alarm grew. "No, we're going on a ship . . . see . . . it's right there—"

  "Is sailors knowing how to curse?" Tyrin asked abruptly, curiosity underscoring his purr. "I is thinking it might be fun to be a sailor. I is thinking of climbing that big tree in the middle."

  "What tree?" Kyr looked around for the tree in question.

  "The three big trees on the boat!" Tyrin replied. "The ones with the sheets!"

  "Am I carving trees?" Kyr asked Omen, his eyes gleaming eagerly.

  "No, you're not carving the trees." Omen was starting to look overwhelmed, and Dev almost felt sorry for him.

  He can't even get his brother and cats on the ship. That doesn't bode well for the rest of the trip.

  He saw the frazzled look Omen threw Shalonie. The girl patted his shoulder. She turned toward Kyr and took his arm, her smile dazzling. "Would you be so kind as to help me up the gangplank, dear sir?"

  Kyr looked startled but smiled back shyly. "Of course, Shalonie. The numbers tell the story. You can hear the ticking of time on the wind. I checked the clock before we left, so it's time to leave." It was Shalonie's turn to look bewildered. They started for the ship.

  "Problems?" an amused voice came from behind them, and Dev stiffened. He hadn't heard anyone approaching. While Omen turned toward the sound with a look of relief, Dev felt a cold shiver claw down his spine, apprehension nicking each vertebra.

  Standing behind them was Templar Trelkadiz, Crown Prince of Terizkand, son of the Nightblooded warlord Antares. Dressed from head to toe in embossed black leather armor, two slender swords of white bone strapped to the sword belt at his left hip, Templar was as tall as Omen. And though only a couple of years older than the Daenoth cub, Templar had a trace of his father's intimidating air about him. The jostling Melians around them seemed to instinctively give Templar a wide berth. Dressed for travel, Templar carried a bulky pack slung over one shoulder. He leaned insolently against a post as if he'd been watching — and judging — for some time.

  How did I miss his arrival? Dev berated himself. There was nothing in this world he mistrusted more than the Night Lands — and anyone associated with them. Templar was the crown prince of Terizkand, and there wasn't a single person in the kingdom who wasn't aware that the royal Trelkadiz family was Nightblooded. Even if Templar's family had tried, it would have been impossible to hide the curse. At the first sign of anger, the eyes of the Nightblood glowed yellow with fire. It was said that as a child Templar had once grown so angry that his blue eyes had permanently turned yellow, forever revealing his true nature.

  Not that the Terizkandians care. While most people shunned even the whispering of anything Nightblooded, the denizens of the kingdom of Terizkand were different in that regard. In conquering Terizkand, King Antares had at the same time freed the population from the giants who had enslaved them. The Terizkandians reveled in the power of their royal house.

  But Dev's history with the Night Lands was mixed and sordid, and he knew better than to trust any of their kind, no matter how pleasing their appearance or helpful their manner.

  Avarice can't possibly trust Templar. And yet she said nothing against him.

  "Cats! Water!" Omen explained in exasperation. "Tormy is refusing to get on the boat."

  "Ah, pity." Templar shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess he's going to miss out on all the fish and the mice."

  Tormy's ears perked forward. "What? What fish? What mouses? I is liking fish and mouses. Where is being my fishies and mouses?"

  "On the ship," Templar explained. "The ship is full of mice and the ocean is full of fish. We'll have an entire voyage of every type of fish dish imaginable. Fish breakfast, lunch and dinner."

  "And mouses?"

  "All the mice you can catch, maybe some rats too," Templar replied. "But of course if you're not going . . ."

  "Wait for me, Grandma Kadana!" Tormy took a mighty leap from the dock, catching hold of the upper edge of the main deck railing, claws digging into the polished wood. He pulled himself upward, back claws scrambling against the hull and scoring the fine green paint.

  A group of sailors nearest the railing shrieked as the enormous cat crawled like a fluffy predator o
nto the deck, and then flounced happily toward their captain.

  Shalonie and Kyr took a few quick steps to catch their balance, laughing as they steadied each other in turn. "Wheeeee!" Tyrin giggled.

  Kadana let out a hearty belly laugh and patted the giant cat's orange flank. "How're you doing, my boy?" she greeted, seeming undisturbed by the cat's antics or the damage done to the ship's paint.

  "I is being here for the mouses!" Tormy explained, making Kadana laugh even harder.

  "Aren't we all," she said as she led Tormy away from the railing.

  "Tell me again why we can't portal to Kharakhan?" Omen asked out loud.

  "Don't worry. Ocean voyages are fun, especially with the added threat of ancient leviathans," Templar assured him. "Is this your spy?"

  "Devastation Machelli, a pleasure," Dev inclined his head. No sense in angering the Night Dweller.

  Templar chuckled. "Now there's a proper Machelli name if I ever heard one."

  The runner returned carrying two great sacks filled with wrapped packages.

  "I'll get those." Omen offered. "Nice work."

  "Afraid Kadana won't feed us?" Templar started. "And where is your gear?"

  "Loaded everything earlier, and Liethan stowed all the extra supplies on the ship last night. He already spent the night on board. Getting a full crew wasn't easy — considering." Omen took a final look around. "Guess that'll do it." He held the fish bags securely, avoiding spillage. "This should get Tormy through to lunch."

  "We'll be fishing the entire way to Kharakhan just to keep your cat fed." Templar looked around. "Bryenth isn't coming?"

  "His duty is to stay and help protect Melia. The dragons are worried that . . ." Omen trailed off with a meaningful look around the docks, not wanting to say aloud what Dev knew he was thinking.

  They don't want to the Melians to know that the Widow Maker could attack again at any moment. According to what Avarice had told Dev earlier, there was a good chance the creature would want revenge on 7. Also a good chance it will follow our ship and attack us.

  "What about you?" Omen asked. "Your father didn't mind you shirking your duties to travel with me?"