The Souls of the Ocean (Book Two in The Tamarack Series)

by Ross Turner

  “I think perhaps it would be wise for you to travel south.” King said between mouthfuls, making conversation with Isabel and Zanriath. “Our High Priest is currently visiting down in the Southern Mills, and I think it would be a good idea for you to speak with him.” He explained.

  “I think you might be right.” Zanriath replied, and Isabel nodded in agreement.

  “Is it still the same priest?” Isabel asked, though she already knew the answer. King laughed light-heartedly.

  “It’s always been the same priest.” He said. “As long as anyone has ever known.”

  “The High Western Priest from the stories?” Cole asked suddenly, watching as the waiters brought yet another carcass for Rose to devour. This time the hog was larger and they practically trembled under the weight, or the fear, he wasn’t quite sure.

  “Yes.” Isabel replied. “Why Cole? What’s wrong?” He looked over to her.

  “I’m not sure.” He admitted with a slight shrug. “I just would quite like to meet him.” Isabel nodded knowingly but said nothing more of it, turning quickly back to her food.

  King looked to Zanriath with a raised eyebrow for an explanation, but he received none, their expressions equally as perplexed, and so they too let the matter drop.

  It was very late into the night before the guests slowly began to retire and filter out from the banquet hall, and many stayed still into the early hours of the morning, drinking and dancing and laughing.

  There were even a few brave individuals, more specifically those that had had perhaps a little too much wine, who dared venture closer to Rose than any of the others. Rose tolerated them at first, but before long she grew tired of their stupid attempts to grab her tail, and they were swiftly escorted from the banquet hall before she made dessert out of them.

  Eventually, Isabel, Zanriath, Cole, and Rose managed to get away, bidding King fond farewells to promises of immediate mobilisation, and also guides for their journey to the Southern Mills.

  They thanked him once again for his help and his hospitality, and retired to their luxurious rooms, weary and exhausted, leaving King to his entertainments. Isabel was certain as they had left she had seen him attempting to balance a goblet of wine on his head, cheering one of his fellow councilmen on to drink from it without using his hands.

  She smiled at the thought of the mischievous old man, knowing he would rally his people the best he possibly could for them, for he was a trustworthy soul.

  They, however, had not the time to aid him in his preparations for war. They had to continue.

  Tomorrow would once again be a long day, yet another tedious day spent travelling, and they all knew that there would still only be more to come.

  23

  This time, it appeared, the that guides King provided for their journey were leaps and bounds superior to the ones he had provided for their last visit with the High Western Priest. Clearly he had learned of their treachery, and had enlisted the aid of six new men for the job, this time from a much more regimented background.

  This had probably been rather difficult to arrange, Isabel observed, since so few in Vak’Istor were inclined in that sort of military-minded manner. But King, though he may have appeared to be a bit of a rogue, especially considering the position of power that he was in, was certainly not a man to leave things to chance, and always learned from his mistakes.

  Isabel pondered this as the six burly guides, or guards as they could probably be more accurately described, greeted them. They were friendly and helpful, and if she was honest, she could not fault them.

  Two of them were noticeably more veteran than the others, and their neatly trimmed beards and short hair were flecked heavily with grey, as seemed to be a running trend through all the old friends Isabel was encountering; the years seeming to be catching up with them all, eagerly awaiting the rise of a new generation.

  Regardless, their additional years seemed to neither slow their bodies or their minds, and Isabel would have gone as far as to say they were probably faster and stronger and hardier than the four younger men in their company. They were certainly superior in authority, and ensured that order was kept.

  The veterans introduced themselves simply as Stone and Church. They gave no indication of whether these were their real names or not, and they held no rank, for there was no armed force in Vak’Istor by which one could be appointed.

  They did not introduce the four younger guards by name, but they seemed not to need them, and they responded almost robotically to Stone and Church’s orders, often without the need for commands to even be given.

  Isabel smiled and complied entirely to their precautionary requests for safety, remembering herself how, sometime ago, she too believed in not taking chances, until she had realised that such an option was hardly even available.

  Regardless of their differing ages, their guards were all tall, broad and muscular, but not to the point of hindrance, and their minds were sharp as razors behind their watchful eyes. All six were armed with broadswords and small shields, and they were quite heavily armoured in thick, strong smelling chainmail, which Isabel found quite strange, as such a thing she had only ever really seen in Hinaktor.

  Clearly King had been hard at work in their absence.

  The sun rose gloriously on the horizon to the far east and cast cold orange rays out over the vast woodland as they set off for the south, accompanied by the strong, almost overpowering odour of freshly oiled steel.

  The ten of them pounded through the streets of Kazra, which were all but desolate at such an early hour, moving south between the towering structures of organised stone. They had only before ever entered and exited the capital city to the west, or to the north, and had only ever seen the vast sea of grey extending out from a distance, paralleled to the waves of orange and red and brown trees to its west.

  The south of the city was no different to the north, in the sense that the buildings were all very similar, the streets were very wide and well lit and organised, and there was potentially nowhere where one might possibly feel claustrophobic or lost.

  The most striking difference that Isabel noticed as they rode with the cold morning air biting their fingers, was that here, instead of structures of council and commerce, there were many more houses. And what was more, the buildings seemed to be structured so that many families lived under one roof, containing sometimes even numerous houses within one building.

  This was something Isabel was unfamiliar with, and she surveyed the bizarre, yet ingenious, idea with much interest. She doubted very much that such measures would ever be taken to for living arrangements in Rilako, but then, she supposed, only time would tell. She couldn’t imagine the population swelling so vastly as to require such measures. Its open spaces were never crowded, and its distinct lack of road was quite unique, and the people adored the spacious feel more than she could possibly describe.

  The more she thought on it, the more she wondered where the people of Kazra were able to go as their population expanded. They could not cut down the woodlands to make more space, certainly not. But as they continued through the empty streets, the answers to her questions became quite obvious, as many different methods of homing people presented themselves.

  She even at one point saw a row of heavy wooden doors angled directly downwards, undoubtedly into tunnels that cut at a diagonal angle into the paved pathways, containing stairs she presumed, leading down to underground housing.

  This got her to thinking further still, how many miles of underground networks were there here? It was a truly inspired solution.

  An hour or so later they emerged from the southern edge of the city and, upon crossing the brief grassy boundary, plunged into the dew covered forest once more, following a traders track to the south that showed the signs of frequent use.

  Their guides explained to them how commerce moved almost continuously between Kazra and the Southern Mills, as the Mills provided the resources for the island, and were practically a city
all of their own.

  The trees whistled by as they pushed their horses in a thunderous charge. Rose seemed only to need to trot to keep up with the pace, and often she and Cole darted ahead someway and circled back through the trees to re-join the party, much to the dismay of their guards, who all turned a ghostly white whenever they realised that once again two of their party were missing in action.

  They did not get used to it, and a day and a half later, when they arrived at the northern entrance to the Southern Mills, the six men were haggard and weary from worry. Zanriath and Isabel were not so concerned however, as Isabel kept a constant watch on Cole as he set about the once again monotonous tasks she set for him - this time including things such as casting the subverting barriers that she had found so useful in her time past.

  These were particularly difficult for Cole to maintain, especially during Rose’s surging bouts through the woodland, and he found himself suitably wearied by the training, though his mind sharpened considerably as it weaved its task between the thick trunks of endless brown.

  Zanriath dared not set Cole any elemental tasks, for fear of harming the woodland and upsetting the Watcher, so for the moment that would have to wait.

  Surfacing from the deep, rich oceans of red and brown and orange, atop the crest of a rolling hill, Isabel breathed warm air into her cupped hands and looked up to the cold sky for a moment. The air felt heavy and even menacing. She looked over to her husband only to have her thoughts confirmed. Rose sniffed the air cautiously as Zanriath spoke.

  “There’s a storm on the way.” He said, his voice carrying a warning tone. Rose nodded in agreement, which startled their escorts somewhat, as they had spent the last almost two days, not ignoring her, for that would have been close to impossible, but simply treating her as an oversized horse with claws and fangs.

  It seemed they had been wrong. This beast was something else entirely.

  “It’s not often we see a winter without storms.” Stone mentioned coldly, bringing his horse forward alongside Rose, eyeing her both with prudence and interest. His voice was cold and deep and Isabel gathered that he was referring, not only to the weather, but also to the last time the demons had invaded the island.

  “Hmm…” Was all she said in response at first, looking once again up to the sky and then far off to the distance, not entirely sure what she was searching for.

  Eventually she spoke again.

  “I would prepare for a very harsh winter this year Stone.” She advised. We have already seen the types of storm coming this way…” Her meaning could have been taken one of two ways, but Church brought his mount up alongside Stone’s and his sombre expression told Isabel that she had not been misunderstood.

  “We have more of our men mobilising even as we speak.” Church said, his voice much gruffer than Stone’s. “It’s high time we had a force of our own. Not all of us wish to adhere to these religious fanatics’ ridiculous teachings and proverbs. Absolute rubbish.” His words were sharp and Isabel only nodded in response, gathering that Vak’Istor was not quite the entirely peaceful, democratic place she had come to believe.

  Wanting to waste no more time, they laboured on, stony faced and serious, all too aware of the threats imposing in upon them from all sides. They could only hope that the High Priest would have some answers.

  Their journey took them a goodly few days of hard riding, as it was a much further distance to the far south than it was simply from the bridge of Compii Tower to the capital city of Kazra.

  Eventually though, they reached their destination, weary from travel, but unable to falter in their pace, for time was against them so.

  They pressed on.

  The Southern Mills were, at first glance, exactly what Isabel had expected. Enormous windmills reached high into to sky, the tips of which they had seen from afar. Vast fields, grain stores, and barns extended in every direction, almost as far as the eye could see. The huge array of working buildings and farmhouses and homes were cast out in an enormous network - a community built on, and even around, the very land itself.

  This was, in essence, the working, beating heart of Vak’Istor. It was unlike any other of the islands, except perhaps to some extent Rilako, which had the milling fields that provided for Akten of Avrik to the west. The Isle had only sporadic farms dotted all over it, each providing for whomever came buying, and Hinaktor had no system whatsoever.

  This, on the other hand entirely, was a thriving community, a city even.

  They moved further west still, not entirely sure where their guides were leading them, and found that, amongst the towering barns and windmills, and between the huge farms and livestock pens, were workshops. These workshops, sprouting from seemingly every spare corner, came in all shapes and sizes, and produced all manner of goods from an enormous array of trades.

  Zanriath’s keen eye was immediately attracted to a smithy that seemed to appear from nowhere, accompanied by the shrill and unmistakable ringing of hammer upon metal. They soon found that there were many more, randomly dotted around between and amidst carpenters, potters, jewellers, breeders - craftsmen of all complex and interesting trades.

  “Here we are.” Stone suddenly announced, as they pulled their horses round to a halt outside a small cottage. Church’s expression spoke volumes more than even his deep, harsh voice could have done, and he looked decidedly less than impressed by their arrival.

  The stone building was quaint and looked to have space for no more than three or four rooms. Here and there the mortar was crumbling away, as if the building had had to withstand the wrath of time for hundreds of years longer than any of its surrounding structures. Two small, square windows and a wooden door faced them, and the flickering orange light of a fire could be seen faintly through one of the windows.

  “This is our High Priest’s cottage.” Stone told them. “We shall meet you here tomorrow morning, shortly after sunrise, so as to ensure your safe return to Kazra.”

  “Thank you gentlemen.” Zanriath said with a slight bow of his head.

  “You have all been splendid.” Isabel added, hiding a smirk for their worries. “I will ensure that whatever sums King is paying you for your troubles are increased upon our return.” Church seemed a little more cheerful all of a sudden, and he and Stone thanked Isabel generously before departing.

  And so, the four of them turned to the aged cottage and simply stood for a moment, looking on at the rustic dwelling sat before them.

  After several minutes, nothing had changed, and it was Cole who eventually broke the silence.

  “Well…should we knock?” He asked, unsure what his parents were waiting for. He had been very quiet for the past few days, overwhelmed by the situation and engrossed in the tasks his mother had been setting for him, though he had to admit, he was not overly fatigued by the whole thing. Perhaps his power was having a greater unconscious effect than he realised, replenishing his strength almost continuously, and rather rapidly it would seem. He was, however, more than aware of their rapidly shrinking breathing space.

  “We don’t need to.” Isabel replied. Cole looked confused for a moment, but then, of course, as if on cue, the wooden door unlocked with the click of a latch and opened slowly and with only the slightest of creaks, as could be expected from a door so old.

  They were greeted by the familiar forms of Kay and Hale, unchanged and identical to Isabel’s memory of them.

  They looked out at their four guests, this time with less urgency, since none in their party were injured, but nonetheless, their expressions were just as grave.

  It saddened Isabel greatly to see their still young faces so pained, and Cole too, though he had never before met the young brother and sister, could not help but feel guilty for the trouble he had caused them, and undoubtedly too the High Priest, they were to imminently meet.

  “Kay. Hale.” Isabel greeted them with a smile, though she noted quite plaintively with her tone the concern on their faces. They nodded in reply and gestured f
or Isabel and the others to follow them inside, having seemingly overlooked the fact that Rose was with them. Either that, or they were not phased in the slightest by her.

  Isabel imagined they had been expecting her and, perhaps more importantly, knew of her importance to Cole.

  “What about Rose?” Cole asked his mother quietly, looking somewhat dubiously at the small cottage. Isabel thought for a moment before finally replying, looking speculatively and the hulking beast.

  “She probably needs to come with us.” She finally said. Cole nodded, though he was admittedly a little unsure.

  And so, he, his father, and his demon, ducking low to fit inside the doorway, all filed into the cottage behind Isabel, eager to find the old man they were seeking, and keen to hear the answers he hopefully held for them.

  24

  Inside the cottage there was a surprising abundance of space, though Isabel recalled such a strange and similar semblance to the tower they had first met the High Western Priest in. He seemed to be able cram books, tables, beds, chairs and yet more tables into what should have been quite an enclosed room, without ever creating the feeling of claustrophobia.

  The entrance led them into a small hallway, and Rose snorted as she crouched yet even lower to get through the narrow and low corridor. Kay and Hale led them, still without a word, through the plain but pristine kitchen, decorated with hanging pots and pans, sparkling cutlery, and a burning fireplace from which the only source of light in the room came. Though, as had also been the case in the High Priest’s Tower, there seemed to be no darkness in any corner of the room, as if it were lighted by something other than simply the flames alone.