“No,” said Tenturo. “He is no ancient being, he is but a man under the service of the Tyrant. It would have to be someone as powerful as the Tyrant or more so, and I think that I know who it is.”
“Densa,” said Nesbitt.
“Yes, Densa. I fear he has returned to the darkness.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of giving some of Densa’s history to everyone,” said Nesbitt, “and…well…it has raised some questions.”
Tenturo seemed perplexed. Evercloud stepped forward.
“Only one question, really,” said Evercloud. “Tenturo, is it possible that I am Densa?”
Tenturo cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”
Evercloud continued. “What if I am under the same spell as Iolana? What if I can’t remember who I am? What if the Tyrant and Densa freed the Farsiders years ago, and then the Tyrant cast a spell to erase Densa’s memory and turn him into a child, strapped to a tree and covered with blood at the base of Gray Mountain?”
Tenturo was almost speechless. “I never…considered that.”
“But it is possible, and you can’t be sure, can you?” added Evercloud.
“No, Evercloud. I can’t be sure.”
“I need to know,” said Evercloud, “and I refuse to kill a loved one to find out. How can we find out if I am Densa?”
“Put it out of your mind,” said Tenturo. “It won’t help us. We need to find Iolana. That is our immediate goal.”
“But, what if–”
“No, Evercloud. If you are not Densa and he is out there, then it is imperative that we find Iolana as quickly as possible. If you are Densa, then we are safe from him. I can imagine how you must be feeling, Evercloud, but the truth is that if you are Densa, I don’t want you to remember. Please, put it out of your mind.”
Evercloud bowed his head in defeat. “Okay.”
“Now, do we have any clues as to where Iolana may have been taken?”
“Why is it worse now that Densa has returned?” asked Tomas. “Iolana was already with the Tyrant. She is immortal, right? I mean…I thought they couldn’t hurt her.”
“Densa can. Densa is more powerful than any being the world has ever known. Densa is the only being I have ever feared. Now tell me, what clues do we have?”
Tenturo looked around at the travelers and no information was forthcoming. It was beginning to dawn on everyone that they had hit a wall. They were much further from their goal than they had wanted to admit.
“We could try the Department of Information,” said Riverpaw. “They might know something.” Nobody but Evercloud knew what Riverpaw spoke of. “King Eveneye set up a Department of Information on Gray Mountain when it was suspected that the Great Tyrant had returned. It’s supposed to go out into Ephanlarea and report back any information pertaining to the Tyrant or the Ancients. Maybe they’ve learned something in our absence.”
“Good,” said Tenturo. “That’s a start. We will go to Gray Mountain.”
“That could take us weeks,” said Captain Nesbitt.
“If you’re to continue on this quest, Captain, you’ll be leaving The Rusty Nail behind. Riverpaw and I will fly the group to Gray Mountain. We cannot afford to lose any time and we should leave Felaqua as soon as possible. We have killed a sacred turtle. Regardless of our reasons, there will be a price to pay.”
“I’ll expect you can drop me off back at the ship then,” said Mr. Tripp as he walked forward and placed a hand upon Nesbitt’s head. “I know what you need to do, Cap’n. I seen it in your eyes.”
“Damn the ship, ole boy. You’re a part of this adventure. You need to come with us,” said Nesbitt, looking up at his friend.
“I’ve almost been eaten by a giant, black eel and some creepy monk wanted to do experiments on me. Now we’re dealing with evil gods and Farsiders and whatnot. I’m through with adventure. Someone needs to take The Nail back to Cerano. Someone needs to keep an eye on the Galley. What’ll that old piano player do for food?” Mr. Tripp chuckled.
Nesbitt joined him with a laugh of his own. “You’re a better man than I ever was, Tripp.”
“Nah, we’re just the same, I figure. A couple of old dogs.”
The travelers climbed upon Tenturo’s back, Evercloud upon Riverpaw’s, and took off into the air. They returned Mr. Tripp to The Rusty Nail and waved as they departed. Everyone watched The Rusty Nail and Saquu’s turtle shrink, smaller and smaller, as they flew away, and once it had left their sights, Tomas Floyd turned to his big brother.
“Iolana is going to have to kill one of us, isn’t she?”
“If it comes to that, Tomas, you’ll tell your sons that I was a hero, won’t you?”
Tomas looked away from his brother and swallowed hard as the wind stung his eyes. For the first time in his life, he realized that heroes never live to tell their own tales.
Chapter 19: Nobody Ever Believes Me
“You sure you want another one of those, darlin’?”
“Yes.”
“This next one will make five, you know?”
“It’s good to know you can count, now just pour the drink.”
The bartender laughed and poured Rachael another drink.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m just tryin’ to help you out. This village ain’t exactly a good place for a woman like yourself to let her guard down.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Rachael said with a sarcastic grin. “But I can handle myself just fine.” Rachael took out her knife and placed it upon the bar for the bartender to see. The man just shook his head.
“I guess so. What are you doin’ in Rooks Cove anyway?”
Rachael lifted her glass and took a large swig of the brown spirit the bartender had set before her.
“Looking for my son,” she said with a small burp.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” said the bartender.
“No, it’s not like that,” said Rachael. “He’s grown. I’m just trying to find him.”
“Well, tell me his description. Maybe I’ve seen him around.”
“He’s a big man with a beard, pale skin, scars on his face, and from what I hear, he’s been traveling under a white hood.”
The bartender started laughing. “You know, you had me going for a minute. I was feelin’ bad for ya and everything. Well, I ain’t seen the Messenger, thank the Holy for that.” The bartender shook his head with a smile on his face. “I tell you what, next one’s on the house.” The bartender walked away and left Rachael to her snarky disposition.
They never do believe me, thought Rachael.
She downed the rest of her drink and left the appropriate money on the bar. She wouldn’t be taking the bartender’s offer for one on the house. Rachael knew her limits. They were high for a woman her size, but she still knew them. She slid off of her barstool and made her way over to the staircase, across from the bar, that led up to the room she had purchased for the night. Rachael hadn’t intended on spending the night in Rooks Cove. Her original plan was to enter the village and purchase a horse, expediting her journey to Hammlin. However, she had found that there were no horses for sale in Rooks Cove and she would have to come up with a new plan. Rachael slowly climbed the stairs, and as she was halfway to the top, a voice called to her from below.
“You need some company, sugar? I’ll give you some good company.”
Rachael turned around to see a vulgar and filthy man grinning at her from the bottom of the stairs.
“Leave me alone,” said Rachael plainly.
“Come on, sugar. I ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of.” The man took a step up the stairs and a shout came from behind the bar.
“Roger!”
The man at the bottom of the stairs turned to look at the bartender who had yelled at him.
“What?”
“Take your seat and leave that woman alone.”
“Come on, Luke,” said the man. “Stay outta this.”
“Sit down, Roger, or I’ll embarrass you like I di
d last time.”
The man grumbled and slouched back to his seat. Rachael nodded a thanks to the bartender and continued up to her room. Rachael had purchased a small room, she’d have slept in a closet if they would have let her. She didn’t want to be noticed. A small room on the outside of the village would hopefully keep her anonymous. Villagers tended to notice new faces, so Rachael wanted to come across as few villagers as possible. There were vacancies throughout the inn, which was why she had chosen The Doucette Downs for the night. She wouldn’t stop lamenting having to take a room at all. No horses for purchase, she thought. What village has no horses for purchase? She did what she could to come up with a new plan to get to Hammlin quickly. She couldn’t miss Edgar again. This had to be the time she caught up to him.
Rachael was too far from the coast to try for transport aboard a ship. She could wait until she had reached the next village and again try to purchase a horse, but who knew how long that might take. She needed a solution now. Rachael was beginning to panic. I won’t miss Edgar again, she said to herself. So Rachael did the only thing that she could think of. She reached out with her mind and tried to contact him.
She cleared her mind as she sat upon the bed in her small, windowless room. She calmed herself, slowed her heart rate and reached out.
I need you. I’ve found where he is going, but I cannot get there. I need your help. Please, I need your help.
I am here, Rachael, but we talked about this. This is your journey, your quest; my help will only stain your own absolution. When I last helped you…that was supposed to be the end.
I know. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to do. I know where he is going, but I won’t be able to get there fast enough without your help. I need you to transport me.
I won’t. I’ve already told you that. You need to do this on your own. We’ve been over this. This is the entire purpose. Absolution for your role in what Edgar has become. Every bit of help I give increases the burden on you. Your finding him on your own is an integral part of your cleansing, Rachael. I’ve made my decision. It is final.
You don’t understand though. What if I fail? I couldn’t live with myself before and I won’t be able to ever again if I fail. I can’t deal with failing him again. Please transport me. Please.
I will not transport you, Rachael. Sleep through this night with faith in your heart, and before morning, you will know what you should do.
With those last words, Rachael was left alone in her room to ponder her quest and ponder her need.
•••
“I’d like to stay on the outskirts of town. We’ll be less likely to run into trouble that way.”
Iolana laughed. “What are you talking about, Murray? How are we going to get into trouble?”
The Messenger realized what he was saying sounded paranoid and tried to explain himself. Iolana knew what he did, but she hadn’t yet been faced with the fact that the rest of the world saw him as a nightmare. The Messenger was afraid of how she might react.
“I’ve heard bad things about Rooks Cove, that’s all. It might be best if we don’t spend a lot of time here.”
“Okay,” said Iolana. “If you think it’s safer that way.”
The Messenger knew that as long as they were among other people, it would only be a matter of time before Iolana heard the stories of his actions, whether they be true or false. He wanted to spend the least amount of time in this village as possible.
“Well, how about that place?” said Iolana and pointed at an inn that didn’t seem very busy.
“The Doucette Downs?” asked the Messenger.
“Yeah,” said Iolana. “It looks okay to me, and we aren’t far from the edge of town.”
The Messenger looked the place over. The truth was that they wouldn’t come across any place that the Messenger would be comfortable with. Every village in Ephanlarea told rumor of his deeds. He only hoped that no one would believe that the Messenger had walked into their establishment.
“I suppose this will do.”
“Perfect,” said Iolana. “I’m so hungry.”
She walked through the front door of The Doucette Downs and the Messenger was forced to follow her. Only two tables were occupied and they looked as though they were about to be finished. All of the stools at the bar were empty and hope welled inside of the Messenger. Maybe there won’t be any stories tonight. They made their way toward the bar where they saw a man who they assumed was working. They lifted themselves onto a couple of stools and the man immediately made his way over.
“How might I be of service?” asked the man working behind the bar.
Iolana wasted no time. “I want a corned beef sandwich with mustard. Oh, and do you have pickles? I’d like a pickle. Actually, make that two pickles and a glass of red wine please.” The bartender looked at Iolana with some surprise. “Sorry,” she said. “We’ve been traveling for a while. I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” said the man with a smile. He turned to the Messenger. “And for you?”
“Nothing for me,” said the Messenger, his hood pulled down to shade the scars on his face.
“You’re not getting anything?” asked Iolana.
“No,” mumbled the Messenger.
“You’re going to let me stuff my face like a pig while you sit there and have nothing?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Iolana turned to the bartender. “He’ll have what I’m having,” she said, “and bring him a pint of ale.” The Messenger scowled at Iolana. “That’ll be all,” Iolana said to the bartender. “Oh, and we need a room for the night.”
“All right,” said the bartender. “I’ll be right back with your food and your key.”
“Thank you,” said Iolana with a beaming smile. She turned toward the Messenger with her big smile. “Stop being so grumpy.”
The Messenger grumbled and pulled his hood down further over his face.
It wasn’t long before the bartender returned with two plates, drinks and a key. The Messenger paid the man while Iolana immediately dug into the corned beef.
“You two enjoy that,” said the bartender. “You’ll find your room just up those stairs. Let me know if you need anything else. The name’s Luke.”
“Thank you, Luke,” said Iolana with her mouth full.
Despite the Messenger’s protests, he was, in fact, hungry and made quick work of the food and drink in front of him.
“Can I get you another pint?” asked Luke as he passed by.
“Yes, he would like one,” answered Iolana, “and I’ll have another glass of wine.”
She sent the Messenger another disarming smile and he soon found himself tipping another frothy pint of ale into his mouth. As he returned his glass back to its position on the bar, a portly, unshaven man bumped into the bar and then wrestled himself up onto a stool a few seats to the right of the Messenger. The man stunk of alcohol and immediately called out to the barman.
“Luke. I need a pint.”
The bartender came directly over, slapping his bar towel onto his shoulder and folding his arms.
“I threw you out of here over an hour ago, Roger. You’re drunk. I’m not serving you.”
“Come on, Luke. You tryin’ to tell me my money’s no good?”
The drunken man reached into his pocket and retrieved a handful of coins and proceeded to throw them at the bartender. The Messenger clenched his jaw and his forearms tightened.
“You’ve got ten seconds to get out of here, Roger. If you’re going to keep acting like this when you’ve had too many, I’ll ban you for good.”
Rachael could hear the shouting from her room. It had woken her out of her sleep. What’s going on? she said to herself as she rubbed her eyes. Rachael got out of bed and pressed her ear to the door.
“Now I’m serious, Roger. Get out of here!”
I should have known that man would be a problem, thought Rachael. She quickly grabbed her knife and slowly opened t
he door. She made sure no one was out in the hall and then crept toward the stairs.
Roger stumbled off of his stool and knocked it to the floor with a swing of his arm. The Messenger turned toward the man, but Iolana grabbed his arm and turned him back around.
“Don’t,” she whispered to him. “Let him leave.”
“This place don’t deserve my business!” yelled Roger and kicked over a table. Patrons sitting at the tables ran out of The Doucette Downs, leaving the Messenger and Iolana as the only remaining customers. The Messenger tried to contain the anger that was welling up inside of him. This man should not be allowed to act this way, he thought as he sat and seethed.
Rachael stared through the banister from the top of the staircase. She crouched and remained perfectly still, so no one would notice her as she watched the scene below.
Luke pulled a machete out from behind the bar. “I said get the hell out, Roger! I don’t want you back in here again! Go ruin someone else’s property!”
Roger seemed to calm down a bit at sight of the machete. He raised his hands, palms out and in front of him. “All right, Luke. Have it your way.” Roger began to stumble out of the bar, but not before noticing Iolana, trying to do her best to hide in plain sight. “Well ain’t you a pretty thing.”
“Damn it, Roger, leave!” shouted Luke.
Roger slunk behind the Messenger and Iolana. “Why don’t you come with me you pretty thing?”
The Messenger dug his nails into the bar.
“No,” said Iolana. “Please leave.”
The Messenger closed his eyes and his world was black. Blood thundered through his veins, pounding inside of his head like a drum. Go away, he thought. Just go away. But he knew the beating of the drum never left. Not until it had satisfied itself.
Roger’s pungent breath hung over them like a sickness. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he said, “without you.”
The drunk grabbed Iolana’s arm, and no sooner than he had, the Messenger stood and smashed his pint glass against the bar as his insides screamed in rage. He spun and slashed at the man’s face with the broken glass, wetting the floor with blood. The man stumbled and fell backward, knocking another table over and shattering the plates that had been on top of it. Iolana screamed, but the Messenger was not done. He pounced upon the man like a wild animal, planting both feet firmly upon the man’s back. He then reached down and grabbed the drunk by the head.
Everflame: The Complete Series Page 40
