“The mainlanders are suffering because of us,” Orlla said, an impassioned edge to her tone. “Our greed and selfishness have driven them to resort to desperate measures to survive.” She met Akolom’s penetrating gaze. “I have met many good-hearted and unselfish mainlanders who have shown me kindness, and even saved my life. They are not all savages as we were led to believe.”
Akolom’s face softened. “The Keepers have suspected as much for centuries, but our concerns have fallen on deaf ears. How do you hope to sway King Ferghell?”
“If you can convince the other Keepers at the Conservatory to stand with me when I present my case, maybe the king will listen to their collective wisdom.”
“The Keepers do not take their oaths of fealty to the king lightly. You will need evidence to prove your claims of the mainlanders’ suffering.”
“I brought someone with me, a Macobite. He is an honorable man and his word can be trusted.”
Akolom nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe the threat of war reaching Efyllsseum’s shores will be enough to persuade King Ferghell, but you must understand you are risking your life seeking an audience with him. He may charge you with treason for giving away our kingdom’s secrets.”
“I’m willing to take that risk. Will you help me?”
Akolom pinched his brows together. “I dare not leave the outpost or the Protectors will know you have returned and will track you to Efyllsseum. I will send a missive with you to present to the Conservatory instructing the Keepers to support you.”
“I don’t want to leave you here,” Orlla protested. “Khor and Daglin might do you harm if they can’t find any trace of me or Samten.”
Akolom shook his head. “They dare not lay a hand on me. The king alone has the right to condemn a master mentor to death. Once they give up searching for you, they will take me back to Efyllsseum to stand trial.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Perhaps by then you will have persuaded the king that the best course of action for Efyllsseum is to relinquish the light dragon stone and share it with the world.”
Orlla swallowed hard, her mind on all the lives that hung in the balance, including Akolom’s. “I will do everything in my power to convince him.”
Akolom gestured to the table. “Bring me a parchment and my ink pot.”
Orlla retrieved the items, along with a quill, and held the parchment steady as he painstakingly transcribed a missive with his shackled hands.
“I know a fisherman in Narto you can trust,” Akolom said. “He goes by the name of Gaff and lives in the shack next to the hay merchant. Show him this missive and tell him I sent you. He will shelter your horses and smuggle you across to Efyllsseum in his boat.”
When Akolom had signed his name to the missive, Orlla hugged him tightly. Wiping a stray tear, she rolled up the parchment and placed it inside her cloak for safekeeping. “I will be back for you, Akolom.”
His discriminating gray eyes held hers. “I know. Do your best to fortify the runes again before you leave. I sense the presence of the mainlander you brought with you has weakened them.”
Outside the cabin, Orlla closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her mind before weaving several additional layers of intricate combinations to the veiling runes shielding the pass. When she had done all she could to buttress them, she sped back across the clearing to Erdhan waiting in the shadows with the horses.
“What were you doing outside the shack?” he asked.
“I had to shore up the runes again,” she explained. “The process cannot be rushed. Your presence, and that of so many soldiers nearby in the forest, is steadily draining their power. I fear if neither Akolom nor I maintain them over the next few days, the pass will become visible.”
Erdhan furrowed his brow. “Is Akolom here?”
Orlla gave a grim nod. “Fettered to a ball and chain. I tried to prevail on him to leave with us, but he doesn’t want to alert Khor and Daglin that I was here.” She patted her cloak. “He gave me a missive for the Conservatory, asking the Keepers to petition the king to relinquish the Opal of Light.”
“Do you think it will be enough?”
Orlla considered the question. “Akolom is the master mentor of the Keeper Conservatory. The king consults with him on matters of state. I am optimistic he will see the necessity of moving the Opal of Light to avert a war that will almost certainly devastate Efyllsseum if it reaches our shores, when it reaches our shores. You can help me convince him that Hamend and Brufus will stop at nothing if the light dragon stone’s power is not shared among the kingdoms.”
Erdhan rubbed his horse’s neck. “So, how do we get to the island from here?”
“A fisherman by the name of Gaff. Akolom assures me he will take us across to Efyllsseum once we show him the missive.”
Orlla took the reins from Erdhan and mounted her steed. “We have little time to squander. It will be easier to make the crossing undetected under the cover of darkness.”
Erdhan followed Orlla’s lead and steered his horse back onto the trail leading around the jagged mountains and down to the port of Narto. They rode in silence, concentrating on navigating the steep and treacherous sections shrouded in a heavy fog at the height of the pass, their horses’ hooves alternating between clacking and slipping on the slick granite slabs. Orlla breathed out a long sigh of relief when they were once again on level ground and the port came into view.
“Brufus’s army will have difficulty navigating the pass,” Erdhan remarked, wiping the sweat from his brow. “My horse slipped to its knees more than once.”
“It will slow down their advance and buy us some time,” Orlla agreed. She pointed down the main street of the sleeping port. “Gaff lives along here, next to the hay merchant.”
They led the horses past a row of shadowy wooden buildings until the overwhelming stench of fish guts permeated the air. Erdhan motioned to some traps piled up outside a shuttered cabin. “There’s your fisherman.”
Orlla stared dubiously at the warped, wooden front door of the ramshackle house. “I hope this doesn’t reflect the condition of his boat.”
“Fishermen take more pride in their boats than in their homes,” Erdhan reassured her with a chuckle, as he tethered his horse to a hitching post outside the hay merchant’s abode. “Is he expecting us?”
“No. We’ll just have to hope we manage to get Akolom’s missive in front of him before he draws a weapon on us.”
After she had secured her steed, Orlla stepped up to the front door and thumped on it. When there was no response, she slid her knife between the door and the frame and jiggled the latch open. Putting her shoulder to the door, she shoved it open and stumbled into the gloomy, one-roomed shack. Erdhan followed her, one hand on the hilt of his dagger.
On a wooden cot jammed against the back wall, a rotund figure slept heavily, each snore vibrating like gathering thunder in his nostrils, then whistling softly as it died away again.
They walked across to the sleeping figure, and Erdhan shook him hard by the shoulder. “Gaff! Wake up!” The man let out a muffled snort and sat bolt upright, spluttering and blinking around the dark room in confusion.
“We have an urgent missive for you from Akolom.” Orlla held out the parchment to him.
Gaff gawped at her, his brain laboring to be of service in his drowsy state. He scrubbed a hand vigorously over his face and furrowed his brow, as if to convince himself he was awake and not dreaming. After a long moment, he threw his heavy blanket aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I am well acquainted with Akolom, but who are you?”
“I am Orlla, also a Keeper of Efyllsseum,” Orlla answered. She gestured to Erdhan. “This is my … guard, Erdhan.”
Gaff rubbed his eyes and directed a wary look at Erdhan’s blood-stained jerkin. “Looks like he earns his keep.”
“Akolom requests that this important missive be taken without delay to the Conservatory, but the nature of our business must be kept strictly confidential,” Orlla said. “He ass
ured us you would see fit to smuggle us to the mainland once you read it.”
Gaff got to his stockinged feet with a heavy grunt and shuffled across to a rickety table. He opened a tinder box and lit a candle, beckoning impatiently. “Bring it here.”
Orlla unrolled the parchment and spread it out on the table in front of him. Gaff sniffed intermittently, as his eyes, now alert and discerning, flicked across the page. “So, the guard’s a mainlander,” he muttered to himself. “Figured as much.” When he was done, he rubbed a spot on his forehead with a stocky finger. “Akolom always feared the Opal of Light would bring war to our shores one day.”
“Will you help us?” Orlla asked.
“I can do little other than ferry you discreetly across to Grisalt Wharf. After that, you will have to make your own way to the Conservatory.”
“Thank you,” Orlla replied. “We are indebted to you.”
“Forgive our impertinence, but our steeds are tethered to the hitching post outside,” Erdhan added with a sheepish grin. “If you could tend to them in our absence, we would be doubly indebted.”
Gaff scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “You need not fret over them. They will be well taken care of.”
He strode to the door with surprising agility for so portly a figure, pulled on his boots, and lifted his jerkin from a hook, muttering all the while under his breath, “Fine hour to be heading out … damp boots … second crossing.” He huffed some more as he wound a woolen scarf around his neck and slipped on a pair of fingerless mittens. When he was done he snuffed out the candle and gave a terse nod. “Let’s be off.”
Gaff didn’t initiate any conversation on the short walk down to the harbor, but his gait was tense and his expression troubled. Even the air seemed charged with a morbid anticipation of a reckoning yet to be determined—the black water rippling as though some otherworldly creature lurked below the surface. Orlla shivered, picturing Brufus’s soldiers, armed to the hilt, crossing to the island kingdom and sullying Efyllsseum with the tromping boots of war. She had to do whatever it took to retrieve the Opal of Light before bloodshed reached them.
Gaff led them along the creaking dock until they came to a modest wooden fishing boat rocking gently in the waves that slapped against the dock. “Here she is.” Gaff gestured to them to step on board.
Orlla wrinkled up her nose, trying not to breathe too deeply, as she climbed in over the bow. The boat stank worse than Gaff’s house. Erdhan curled a lip in mock disgust when Orlla caught his eye.
Gaff seemed oblivious to the stench, busying himself sorting out lines and prepping the main sail. “When we get close to shore, you’ll need to hide under that pile of oilcloths and netting.” He motioned to the back of the boat. “I can’t be caught with a mainlander and a fugitive on board. Don’t show your faces until I give the all clear.”
“Thank you,” Orlla said. “I know you’re risking your livelihood to help me.”
Gaff gave her a hard stare. “Not you, Akolom. He saved my life a long time ago—set me up with this fishing boat. I owe him everything.”
Orlla nodded, not at all surprised. It wasn’t the first time she had witnessed Akolom give of his time, wisdom, and possessions to those who could not repay him.
The crossing to the island was rougher than usual, and Orlla found herself grappling with the foreboding feeling that the Opal of Light was growing restless on Efyllsseum. The burden of conviction grew heavier in her heart the closer they got. Whatever the cost, she would bring the light dragon stone to the mainland and let its power heal the land.
When Efyllsseum’s shore was finally in sight, Gaff cautioned them to conceal themselves, and then proceeded to furl up the sail as he steered them in to dock. Orlla and Erdhan huddled together beneath the pile of oilcloths and netting, peering at the shadowy dock as Gaff stepped out of the boat and tied it to a mooring post with a few deft knots.
When he straightened up, a Protector emerged from the shadows on the other side of the dock and greeted him. “How fares the fishing?”
“Lean,” Gaff replied in a gruff tone. “Too rough tonight. I’m tying up for now and heading out again at dawn.” He made to walk down the dock in the direction of Grisalt Wharf but the Protector took a step to block his path. “I hate to trouble an honest fisherman like yourself, but a fishing boat similar to yours was stolen from this dock by a fugitive youth a few days ago. My unit is stationed here to watch for any suspicious types docking such a vessel under cover of darkness.”
Gaff cut him a glare with narrowed brows. “Do I look like a suspicious youth to you? State your business, or step aside.”
The Protector fingered the hilt of the sword strapped to his thigh. “We have been directed to conduct a search of all incoming vessels during our watch.”
Gaff snorted a laugh. “What kind of dolt do you take me for? Don’t you think I would have discovered any stowaways on my own vessel?”
The Protector cleared his throat. “Nonetheless, I have my orders.” Without another word, he shouldered past Gaff and strode swiftly over to the boat.
Orlla held her breath, every muscle locked with fear. There was no way to make their escape without being discovered. They would be forced to fight their way out of this. Beside her, Erdhan pulled out his knife, its blade glinting as he raised his arm.
“Wait!” Orlla whispered, as Gaff suddenly broke into a run. He slammed into the Protector from behind, knocking the taller man off his feet. The two tumbled into the water with a loud splash and disappeared into the rippling blackness. A moment later their thrashing arms churned the surface as they wrestled for advantage.
“We need to help Gaff!” Orlla gasped, wriggling out from under the oilcloths.
Erdhan grasped her wrist. “There could be more Protectors about. He talked of his unit.”
Orlla peered anxiously at the inky water. Her chest seized when the flailing suddenly stopped, and the bobbing heads slipped beneath the surface.
Chapter 22
Fear clawed its way through Orlla, her heart knocking against her ribs for several agonizing minutes until a shadowy head burst through the surface of the water, gasping for air. In the inky darkness it was impossible to tell if it was Gaff or the Protector. Huddled beneath the oilcloths out of sight, she watched the out-of-breath man struggle to swim to the half-rotted wooden ladder hanging from the dock. Beside her, Erdhan drew his knife once more. If the Protector had survived, he would be in for an ugly surprise.
Laboring to breathe, the sopping wet man grasped the ladder and heaved himself onto the bottom rung. He straightened up, and began to climb, his homespun sagging around his portly figure with the weight of the water.
Orlla let out a relieved shriek. “Gaff!” Before Erdhan could stop her, she slithered out from under the canvas and netting and ran to help.
Gaff slumped down on the rough dock, barely managing to draw a complete breath. Resting his forearms on his knees, he leaned his head between them, shivering violently. Orlla shrugged off her cloak and threw it around his shoulders. “Is there somewhere nearby we can take you to dry off? A fellow boatsman’s abode? You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
He shook his head, still too winded to speak.
Erdhan joined them and laid a hand on Gaff’s shoulder. “Are you wounded?”
“No,” Gaff wheezed. “Give me a minute.”
Erdhan stole a worried glance around at the deserted dock. “Let’s hope the next watch isn’t any time soon. The whole unit will be roused once they realize a Protector is missing.”
When Gaff had recovered sufficiently, he staggered to his feet. “I can’t be in port when the body washes up or I’ll be the obvious suspect. I need to cross the straits to Narto before someone spots my boat.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right sailing back alone?” Orlla asked.
“It won’t be the first time I’ve crossed this channel drenched.” Gaff slipped her cloak from his shoulders and handed it back to her. “You sh
ould leave for the Keeper Conservatory right away. Once the fish market opens, Narto will be overrun with merchants. Someone is bound to recognize you and report you to the Protectors.”
“Thank you again,” Orlla said. “I won’t forget what you did for us.”
Gaff gave a curt nod and lumbered back across the dock to where his boat was moored. Orlla and Erdhan waited until he had launched safely, and then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the wharf before anyone could spot them.
For the most part, they kept off the road as they pounded a path up the hill to Ballinkeld. Although Khor and Daglin hadn’t reported Orlla missing yet, she was easily recognizable as the adopted older sister of the fugitive, Samten. Erdhan’s safety was also a concern, even though he could mimic the island accent well. Despite her best efforts to educate him about life on Efyllsseum so that he could pass himself off as an islander in a casual social interchange, there was a high risk he would arouse suspicion if he found himself in prolonged conversation with anyone.
As they crossed the stone bridge, Orlla’s thoughts turned to her father. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on what would happen to him once the Opal of Light left the island. It was inevitable they would lose the blessing of eternal youth. Her father, along with many other good people, would age and pass from this life to the next. As brokenhearted as she was at the thought of losing him, the truth was she had already lost him a long time ago. Eternal youth was an aberration of life that siphoned the lifeblood from the mainlanders. As soon as she had delivered Akolom’s missive to the Keepers, she would visit her father and tell him what she was about to do. Maybe he wouldn’t understand, but she owed it to him to try—at the very least to say good-bye.
“You are deep in thought, and I sense your heart is heavy,” Erdhan said. “Do you fear the Keepers will refuse to help us?”
“No. I am thinking about my father and how I will explain to a former master mentor that the Opal of Light must leave the island.”
“Will he not support your efforts to avert war? Surely as a former master mentor—”
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
