Gold Grin looked to Sora, and she managed a nod.
“Good to hear,” Gold Grin said. He pulled up a chair and sat with its back facing the wrong direction. He crossed his arms and leaned in before continuing. “Now tell me, what makes ye want to go to Yaolin… really?”
He examined Sora from head to toe. Usually, it made her shudder when men looked her over like she was meat at a butcher, but there wasn’t a hint of malice in Gold Grin’s eyes. For the terror of the seas he claimed to be, he seemed quite the gentleman.
“As I said, my husband died, and I want to inform his family in person,” Sora said. “Whitney was an old friend, and helped us get this ship and start sailing before leaving us for the gulls.”
“Codswallop,” Gold Grin said. “Try again.”
Sora blinked. “That’s the truth.”
“Aye, so let me get this straight. I save ye from certain doom, we welcome ye onto our ship, into our home, and ye lie to my face?”
Sora glanced at Tum Tum. The dwarf shrugged. “Can’t say I ain’t curious meself.”
Sora swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much about guarding her true purpose. Sure, Gold Grin might not take kindly to being lied to and change his mind about taking them to Yaolin, but that wasn’t the real reason. He seemed decent enough despite his title. But the last person she’d opened up to vanished, and the thought of doing it again made her stomach churn.
“Honestly, I need to know more about where I come from,” she said, battling back the sick feeling. “Who I am, why I can do what I do, how to control it better.” She pictured her outstretched hand back on the corsair ship and the blinding light; Whitney and Kazimir there one second, then gone another. Then she recalled the Webbed Woods when she released a blast of energy that subdued a powerful warlock, or in Winde Port when Muskigo was on the cusp of victory before her fire spread as if fueled by her rage. She even remembered Redstar’s face when she healed Torsten’s wounds in the forest.
It was nothing any normal blood mage without decades of experimenting like Redstar had should be capable of, she knew that now. Nothing her teacher Wetzel even knew enough to teach her.
“That’s more like it!” Gold Grin slapped the table hard, and so deep in thought, Sora jumped. “Ye got yerself a special gift there, lassy. I’d been trying to learn some magic myself in my travels, but some of us just ain’t got the gift.”
“It’s not as great as it seems,” Sora said.
“Trust me, girl. I’ve seen more horrors at the hands of men playing with magic than any other, but I’ve seen some good too.”
Gold Grin gently took Sora’s hand. She tried to pull away out of instinct, but Grisham politely asked, “May I?” and she gave in. He slowly unwound the cloth bandage around her palm and studied the many scars.
“Blood magic, aye?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sora replied softly.
“I’ve seen the Drav Cra use it. Very powerful, very unpredictable in weak hands. Never seen a Panpingese lass doing it, but I suppose there aren’t many mystics left after the war.”
Sora leaned forward. “But there are some left?”
“Ah, so it’s a mystic ye want to meet?” he asked, grinning. “Rumors say they’re out there. They ain’t on the seas though, and impossible to find. Trust me; I’ve looked. It's said the ancient mystics found a way to live forever. Hogwash probably, but I’ll be damned if me and my mates don’t keep an ear open for the secrets. Sail the seas for all of time!”
“Live forever, ye say?” Tum Tum asked.
“What about making someone disappear?” Sora asked.
Gold Grin scratched his chin. “Not sure. What, were ye wishing ye’d make that scallywag Whitney vanish? Cus then I’d understand!”
Sora choked on her next breath. Gold Grin’s brow furrowed like he knew he was on to something.
“Well, I don’t know nothing about disappearing,” he said, “but I heard some say the mystics learned a way to travel to Elsewhere itself. That they hid there after the war. Seeing as how nobody talks about them now, probably got stuck there, where nothing living should be.”
Sora turned to Tum Tum. “You don’t think Whitney—”
“I just be a dwarf good at pourin ale,” Tum Tum said. “All this mumbo-jumbo talk makes me head spin.”
“Look, if Whitney wronged ye, ye wouldn’t be alone in wanting revenge, lass,” Gold Grin said.
“He didn’t wrong me,” Sora said.
“Ah, so he broke your heart.”
“No,” she protested, but her expression must have betrayed her words because Gold Grin’s smile gave credence to his name.
“The boy always did fancy himself a ladies' man. Stealing a woman like ye from her husband though, I’m impressed.”
“He didn’t steal me—"
Gold grin waved his hand to quiet her. “I ain’t here to judge, lass. Whether yer husband truly be dead or yer going back to him after a dalliance with that lying thief, I can promise ye I’ve done far worse.”
“I’m not sure about that.” She closed her eyes and could see the flames devouring Winde Port, feeding off her anger.
“Bah,” Gold Grin spat. “That rat bastard is fickle as the wind, so I say move on.”
“Now, now, he wun’t too bad,” Tum Tum butted in. He’d had a few ales by then, and the words flowed right out of him. Sora stayed quiet and tried her best to listen, but something Gold Grin said had her distracted.
Mystics hiding in Elsewhere.
“I met him in the Dragon’s Tail when I was just a mere miner,” Tum Tum explained even though nobody asked. “He convinced me to follow me dream and travel south. ‘Open a pub,’ he said after we spent a week deep underground searching for the mythical Brike Stone.”
“Did ye find it?” Gold grin interrupted.
“We found a stone all right, but it wasn’t magical, much as he claimed it was. I think he just wanted to get to the fresh air. ‘Why do anything we don’t want to?’ he always used to say and lived it too. Minute we got out, he gave me some staff he took so I could buy a lot on Winder’s Wharf, much good it’s doing for me now.”
“You had it easy,” Grisham said. “Old Whitney joined up with my crew a few years back. We were riding on my first; hand built it myself. The Sea Hawk was a fine vessel, but Whitney spotted a Glass Kingdom galleon alone on the Torrential. Convinced me to try and take her and start an armada. Ye know how convincing he can be.”
“Like a silver-tongued devil,” Tum Tum snickered.
“So, we did it, and we took it. And next thing I know, Whitney’s sailing off the other way in the Sea Hawk with a few deserters.”
Tum Tum smacked his head with his palm. “And ye didn’t kill him?”
“We set off on him full tilt when I realized: somehow he’d shoved all our plundered riches into barrels and set them into the water for us to grab. All I was short was a small, mangy ship and a few unloyal crewmen. Now I’ve got the Reba and the best crew in Pantego!” His men took a momentary break from their raucousness to cheer in approval.
“Never's there been a man so equally able to frustrate and show ye everything ye really want,” Tum Tum said.
“Yeah...” Sora whispered.
“So where in Elsewhere did he disappear off to then?” Grisham asked. “Always a thrill to hear about one of his great escapes, even if it came at your expense lass.” He nodded Sora’s way, but she stayed quiet.
“He pulled off the greatest trick of all,” Tum Tum said. “There we were on that ship, beset by a vile killer. An upyr, believe ye me. He had Whitney by the neck and Sora here was going to use some of that magic to save em. A flash, then bam, they’re both gone. Never seen a thing like it in me life.”
Gold Grin shot Sora a knowing look. A man like him had likely seen so much of the mysterious in their world; she wasn’t sure why she was surprised he’d pieced some of what happened together, at least as much as she had herself. She did her best to
mask her grief, but that apparently wasn’t good enough.
“I see,” Gold Grin said. “Boy always was so quick with his fingers it was like magic.”
“Just like magic,” Sora said. Just as she went to lean on her palm, a thought popped into her head. Her eyes lit up.
Where in Elsewhere is he… For the first time in many days, a weight lifted off her heart. If the mystics could access Elsewhere, not just feel it working through them, but genuinely obtain that plane as Gold Grin said, could that be where she sent Whitney and Kazimir? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d pulled off a magic feat seemingly only a powerful mystic should've been capable of. And if that’s where he was, maybe they could help her get there. It made more sense than anything else.
Either he was alive and trapped there, or dead, and damned to spend eternity there. He sure as Iam wasn’t destined for the Gate of Light, if it even existed. The only other option was that Kazimir had powers the books on upyrs never spoke of and somehow teleported them somewhere else.
“Look, lass,” Grisham said. “If ye want to meet a mystic and figure out whatever in the gods' name happened, I can’t help ye, but Yaolin is the best place to start looking.”
“So, you don’t care that I lied about why I wanted to go?” Sora said.
“Care?” he chuckled. “Like I said, whether it be dead husbands, fake husbands, or mysteries of magic; they don’t matter to me. Ye be a friend of Whitney Fierstown, and that be enough. Plus, I’ve already got this!” He pulled out the half of the Glass Crown and placed it on the table. “If Whitney weren't lying, this’ll be worth a fortune, broken or not. Where better to sell it then Yaolin?”
“Even if he’s lyin again, it’s got enough gems,” Tum Tum said, ogling it.
“Eyes to yerself, dwarf.” Gold Grin laughed and hid the crown again.
“You didn’t meet the Shieldsman who caught him,” Sora said. “If you had, you’d know this is one time he’s being truthful.”
“Shieldsman and the Glass Crown? Now, this I’ve got to hear.” He banged his empty tankard to get one of his men’s attention. “Fortist, fill me up. I’ve got a tale to hear.”
So, Sora told him. With the glimmer of hope instilled by the information about mystics she’d learned from him, talking about Whitney didn’t completely fill her with dread.
She explained all about how he’d stolen the crown from a royal masquerade celebrating the late king’s last birthday, though she could only tell it how Whitney had and he tended to exaggerate. She found it strangely healing to be speaking of him, especially considering her company. Never in her life did she imagine she’d feel welcomed by a pirate with gold-clad teeth.
She finished the story of the crown, and they shared long laughs, which felt good compared to weeping in solitude. By the end, Sora was eating and drinking, and felt her spirits begin to rise a bit. Her toe even tapped along to the off-time beat and dreadful singing.
They shared more stories of adventures, not just featuring Whitney. Gold Grin of battles on the high seas she could barely fathom, or of how his ship got its odd name, the Reba. He’d been lured, nearly to his doom, by the song of a mermaid by that name. When he’d shown the fortitude and strength to deny her seductions unlike any man before, she called off the many storms and waves meant to bring death to the crew and invited him to her waters.
“She was the only woman I ever loved,” he said. “And she didn’t even have the parts I’d once thought necessary for loving!”
Tum Tum told of crazy nights in his tavern which only he found hilarious. Sora tried to match them, but every story she told went back to Whitney. Because without him, she’d never done anything more than hide out in Wetzel’s shack and learn how to make a fire in her hand.
So, she spoke of Whitneys rescue from the Yarrington dungeons by Torsten’s hands, and about his rescue by her hands in the Webbed Woods, and then about how Muskigo and the Shesaitju attack rescued him just as he was about to be hung by Bartholomew Darkings. She began to see a pattern.
“Right good fellow he was,” Tum Tum said, rubbing tears of laughter from his eyes at the vision of Whitney fleeing with a noose flapping in the wind at his back.
“Aye, despite him being a no good jollywanker!” Gold Grin exclaimed. They laughed again, drunker now.
Sora just smiled and closed her eyes. Whitney had a knack for being rescued, and if there was a chance, even in the slightest, that he and Kazimir were banished to Elsewhere in her blind rage—she was going to find a way to bring him back.
VII
THE THIEF
“Shog in a barrel,” Whitney said for what must have been the tenth time in as many days.
“I don’t know what that means, Mister, but I’m sure if we’ve got it, we’ll be happy to share it,” the boy replied. His clothes were dirty but well-kept. His hair, tawny brown and messy, his face red and blotchy like he’d just spent the afternoon rolling around by the river.
“We haven’t had anyone new come through here in as long as I can remember,” he went on. “Lots of folks are gonna be happy to see you both.”
Whitney looked at Kazimir and suspected very few people had been happy to see him in centuries.
“Uh, yeah,” Whitney started. “So, this is Troborough, you say?”
“You’ve never heard of it?” the boy asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s pretty small compared to Yarrington. I hope I get to go there one day.” He stared off toward the barely visible mountain in the distance, peak sliced clean across. “Father says we’ll go for a Dawning when I’m older.”
It was then Whitney realized the deep purple sky had lightened. Little, white, puffy clouds now painted themselves against an amber sky, the color of Sora’s eyes. Whitney wasn’t sure when that happened. Green grass swayed along rolling hills, and the smell of horse shog in the distance met his nostrils.
“Gonna be here long?” the boy asked.
Whitney regarded Kazimir, who remained silent as a corpse. When the upyr didn’t respond, he said, “Just passing through, I think.”
“Travelers, huh?” The boy’s eyes lit up. “Are you hungry then?” he asked.
Whitney glanced down at his stomach. After running through Winde Port without a bite to eat or a wink of sleep, then rowing across Elsewhere, he felt like he should have been starving, but Kazimir was right, his stomach neither grumbled nor cramped as it should have. The thought of food, however, had him salivating.
“Starved,” he said. He both meant it and didn’t, which made no sense, just like the rest of this strange place.
“Great!” the boy said. “Let me show you the farm! We’ve got plenty of food, and I bet Pa will let you stay in the barn. We don’t get many noble visitors here.”
“Noble,” Whitney repeated to nobody in particular, instinctually puffing out his chest.
“It’s gonna be dark soon if you want to get going. Don’t wanna make Pa mad.”
Again, Whitney looked to Kazimir in disbelief that he was in a position where he had to rely on the murderer. Kazimir nodded him along.
“If this is where the Ferryman wanted you, you’d be wise to follow. But remember this, thief, there’s no, ‘just passing through,’ in Elsewhere.”
“What if it isn’t where he wanted me?” Whitney asked.
“Pray to whatever god you believe in it is.”
Whitney found himself standing firmly in place. Everything with the upyr was grim, but that didn’t stop his mind from churning with possibilities, all of them awful. The stories fathers told about Elsewhere, and how demons would pluck out your organs while you watched; all the mystical hogwash he’d ever heard was starting to feel all too real.
“C’mon, we better hurry.” The boy took Whitney’s hand and pulled him along in the direction of the town. The act made Whitney look down, and then he remembered what he looked like.
“Hey kid,” Whitney said. “Think we could stop by the tailor and pick up some clothes first?”
The
boy stopped.
“Clothes?” he asked, looking Whitney up and down like he was insane. “Those are nicer than anything you can buy here.”
Whitney peered down again and noticed he was now wearing clothes—dark pants, white silk tunic, and a cloak worthy of a Darkings. Kazimir the same. They looked like proper noblemen.
“How did?” Whitney said, incredulous.
“I bought mine from the tailor, Gilly.” The boy snapped his cloth collar. “Well...” He leaned in close. “I didn’t buy them.” He continued on his way.
Whitney touched his clothes, pulling at fabric, fingering his cloak until Kazimir nudged him in the side. He grunted for them to keep following.
As they traveled, Whitney’s jaw increasingly dropped. He was dumbfounded. Troborough looked just as he’d remembered it growing up.
What mess did you get me into this time, Sora?
In the distance, he could see the Julset twins’ place. The corners of his mouth peaked at the thought of afternoons spent snogging in their backyard, wondering but not caring which one it was, Becca or Kayla. Then, next door was old Charles Whelfork’s place and Farmer Branson’s farm. It all looked like it had when he was a kid, not like the last time he’d visited, and certainly not like it had after the Shesaitju attacked and burned it to dust and ash.
Then he saw something that made the air catch in his throat and the contents of his stomach swirl. He may not have been able to feel hunger, but he felt the sickness gurgle within at the sight of Wetzel’s little shack down back at the riverside. It was the place Sora had grown up and apparently learned magic, unbeknownst to him. Wetzel was the town healer and herbalist; the place you went when prayer at the church wouldn’t cut it.
Whitney started veering off the path toward it.
“Hey, Mister.” The boy pulled him away. “You don’t want to go there.”
Whitney didn’t listen. He released the boy’s hand and continued on his path.
“I said, Mister! You don’t want to go there.”
Every muscle in Whitney’s body froze a few meters away from the shack. He tried to push forward to Wetzel’s door but felt compelled back to the road until he was, once again, striding alongside the boy. He wasn’t even sure he could remember how he got back there.
The Redstar Rising Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set 1: Books 1-3) Page 76
