by Eli Steele
“Father Brayden,” Rowan said, “will you-“
Interrupting him, she replied, “I’ll let him know you’re safe, and I’ll check in on him now and then.”
Kassina sighed, “Bel, the Flagon, there’s no one left to look after it... Would you-“
“Oh,” she replied with a smile, “I’d love to…”
“Ida can manage the day to day,” Kassina said, “but she’ll need help overseeing it. Tell her I’ll be back, but until then, it’s yours to do as you wish.”
Stepping back, Bela nodded and wiped her eyes. Reaching out, she clutched Kassina’s fingertips with her own. “Come back when you can,” she whispered. Turning to Rowan, she added, “Take care of her…”
He nodded.
Unbuckling her sword belt, Bela handed it to Kassina. “I have a forge full of others, and I suspect you’ll need these more than me.”
With a smile, Kassina received it and strapped the saber and swordbreaker across her hips.
Winking, Bela backed away before turning and melting into the docks. “I’m glad she’s staying,” Kassina said, “I mean, I wish she was coming, but she deserves better. It’s not her fight…”
“I know what you mean,” Rowan replied, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Now, let’s see about this Cormorant…”
Lounging on a couple of crates beside the gangway to the ship, a man puffed a pipe. Smoke wisped around his head before swirling away with the wind. His hair was long and dark and twisted in the breeze. Leathery skin, burnt from the salt air and the sun stretched over his hands and face. A thick beard, oily and black, hung in a single heavy braid to his chest. He stunk of the docks. Content with his pipe, he ignored them as they approached.
“Are you the captain of this ship?” Rowan asked.
Cutting him an eye, the man spat. “Who’s asking?”
“Is this the Cormorant?”
“If you ‘int got a name,” the man said, “you can piss right off, the both of you.”
“Name’s Elekhoi,” Kassina replied.
The pipe clattered against the warped timbers beneath their feet. Standing, the man bowed slightly. “M’lord, m’lady, my apologies.”
Kassina snorted. “That’s better. I don’t get enough m’ladies in m’life.”
Rowan forced back a grin. “So you are the captain of the Cormorant?
“Indeed I am; Sutton Howland. Forgive my insolence.” Motioning to the floating holk, he added, “And she’s my lady Corm, the only one I need.”
And the only one you’ll ever have, reeking like you do…
“We need your ship,” Rowan said.
“She is yours, my lord, to guide as you require. What place have you in mind?”
“Aven-“
With a hand, Kassina stepped forward, halting his words. “Have you ever seen one of these before?” she said, producing the silver token.
Sutton’s demeanor changed from one of acquiescence to hesitation. Stammering, he replied, “I-I cannot recall…”
“We just need the port,” she urged, “we won’t ask you to introduce us to the people.”
“Just the port?” the captain asked with narrowed eyes. “And I would leave you at the docks? I would sail before the sun set…”
Kassina nodded.
Sutton sucked his teeth, musing the request. His brow furrowed. Rowan watched the man wrestle with whatever debt he owed Thatcher, and the fear of things unsaid.
“You know not what you ask, m’lady, but I will do it just the same, but only because of the word you’ve spoken. And then my bonds to the old wizard will be severed. Is this what is offered?”
“It is,” she replied.
“It is three weeks, maybe four, to Thim Dorul of the Kal’Deas, if the wind is in our favor.” Standing, he tapped his pipe on the crate and added, “Which it will be…” Turning, he walked the gangway. Without looking back, he asked, “Are you coming?”
“Now?” Rowan replied.
“Now indeed, I should have this burden behind me as soon as I may…”
“Kass,” Rowan said, turning to her, “are you sure about this? We have no idea-”
“More than anything, I am,” she interrupted, sapphire eyes blazing. “Just like him, we have debts of our own, and I mean to settle them… So, as the captain said, are you coming?”
Sighing, Rowan took in her intensity. She was a warrior, he realized, perhaps for the first time. A smile inched across his face. “We make a good pair, you and I,” he replied.
Snorting, she turned towards the Cormorant.
Epilogue I
Griffon Alexander
Hell’s Gate
Braewood Keep
Kingdom of Beyorn
“Is this as it was in the vision?” Kren asked, surveying the battered gate.
“Everything was as I saw it,” Griffon replied, dejected, “And everything I did only aided it.”
Placing a hand on the young Alexander’s shoulder, the wildman said, “It is not your fault, lowlander. Some things cannot be changed, no matter how hard we war with fate.”
“I feel like I failed him...”
“Imagine this place without you, Eleksandr. What would it be? You honored the magekiller with your actions. His death was not in vain because of you.”
Griffon nodded.
“What now?” Kren asked.
“We rebuild what we can. And we prepare. But first, I must go claim Pagan’s body. He deserves a proper burial.”
“It is so,” the titan replied.
“What about you?”
“We will tend to our wounded, and sharpen our axes. And send scouts north. We will know their plans before they do. That is our way.”
“Will I see you again?” Griffon asked.
The warrior rubbed his stubble and exhaled, musing the thought. “It is likely,” he replied. “For this is far from over.” With that, the wildman stretched out his hand.
Griffon clasped his forearm.
“You are my brother, Eleksandr, even if you need much saving.” With one last smile, Kren Redstom turned with his band of hill warriors and aimed north.
The morning sun was low and weak, not yet strong enough to break the chill of the night. Storm clouds rumbled in the west, bringing with them the rains that would quench the fires that still burned in the Braewood.
Griffon’s heart broke to gaze upon the blackened forest. Smoke hung heavy in the Barbeau Pass, obscuring the worst of it still.
“Come inside,” a voice called out. “You must surely be starved.”
Griffon looked up to see Eldrick atop the gatehouse. “No,” he replied. “There’s too much yet to do.”
Looking out over the forest, the spy said, “For an entire season a charred stench will cling to this place.”
“Flowers will bloom in the spring, and that will pass... but what remains, a ruined olde growth that cannot be replaced, will stand for ten lifetimes. This will never be forgotten. I will never forget this, and neither will they, I will make certain of that.”
Epilogue II
The Stranger
Braewood Forest
Kingdom of Beyorn
The trebuchet’s frame still smoldered in the ruined forest. Blackened flesh marred the bodies closest to what remained of the blaze. A company of crows and ravens and vultures picked over the dead, their voices shrill and protective of their claims.
Hooded and hunched forward, a figure approached the scene from out of the low smoke, his dark green robe dragging across the forest floor. Birds scattered before him, only to return to their feast as soon as he passed.
He eyed the dead mage’s corpse, headless and gutted. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head.
Up ahead, the figure took an interest in the body of a fallen man. A braewood branch as thick as an axe handle protruded from his chest. To the side, a round shield with the sigil of House Alexander lay in the dirt.
A particularly large raven gouged its beak into the chest of t
he body. Fat and bloated, it gorged itself.
The figure crouched nearby, but the raven ignored him still. “You’re an obstinate little devil,” the figure whispered in a raspy voice. With a wrinkled hand, he eased up behind the bird and clutched it tightly. The raven wriggled and croaked and pecked at the living flesh, but it was no use.
With his other hand, the figure pressed hard against the chest of the body, deep into the cavity burrowed out by the bird. Stopping at the unbeating heart, he curled his fingers around it.
Closing his eyes, he focused his energy and squeezed the raven, crushing it in his hand. Bones crunched. The bird wriggled and strained until finally it lay still. Blood oozed from its beak.
With a natural cadence, the figure massaged the heart. Beat-beat, beat-beat, the fingers moved the muscle. “Beat-beat, beat-beat,” he whispered to himself. And then, he released his grip and waited.
Beat...
...beat...
Beat-beat...
Beat-beat, beat-beat, beat-beat
Stepping back, the figure admired his work, and smiled.
A Note from the Author
I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of my serial!
Part 3 of B&I is due for release in October 2019!
Visit my blog for updates: https://elisteele.blogspot.com/
Or:
Join my mailing list and receive notifications of new releases:
https://mailchi.mp/770ef93e207a/elisteele
(I promise I will not spam you relentlessly!)
