by T. Norman
Tyrell hesitated for a few seconds before deciding it would do no good to start a fight.
Allison closed the door and gestured for Tyrell to sit at one of the small tables in the room. “I’ll make you a deal. You answer one of my questions and I’ll answer one of yours. Sound fair?”
“Fine, ask away.”
As Allison took a seat across from him, crossing her legs as she did so, she took a moment to press out the wrinkles of her dress. “Let’s see, how did you find this room?”
Tyrell hesitated, not sure how much information to give up. “I don’t know, I was just wandering the halls and I found the door.”
Allison shook her head. “I will only tell you this once: you are going to want to start telling me the truth.”
Tyrell was certain he didn’t misunderstand that threat. “I found some old journals that mentioned a room full of treasures in the dungeons of this castle,” he lied, hoping the small amount of truth would mask his real motive.
Allison stared at him, contemplating. “All right, I believe you asked me what I was doing here, correct?” Tyrell gave her a nod. “I am here because you are here.”
Tyrell worked to control his frustration at the lack of an answer to his question.
“My turn again,” Lady Velmar said. “How did you find the door?” Tyrell opened his mouth to respond, but Allison raised a hand before he could. “Remember, it’s in your best interest to tell me the truth.”
Tyrell sat and thought for a moment before speaking again. “I was walking by when I saw a strange reflection. I walked down the hallway and the door just appeared.” He knew that there was something strange about the room; the longer he sat in it, the more his neck started to tingle.
“I see. What would you like to ask me?”
Tyrell had so many questions he wanted answers to, but he knew he had to word them carefully so he didn’t give away too much information. “What’s the purpose of this room?”
Allison smiled. “Good question. It’s where many individuals come to learn.” Tyrell clenched his jaw as he realized that she had not really answered his question. “My turn again. How did you open the door?”
“It was open when I got here,” Tyrell answered quickly, without thinking.
Allison slammed her fist on the table, startling Tyrell. “I told you not to lie to me. Now how did you get in here?” Her face turned red with fury as she shouted at Tyrell.
“I don’t know!” He raised his hands in defense. “I just touched the door and it opened.”
Allison sat back in her chair, straightened out her dress, then looked up and smiled at Tyrell again. “See, that was easy. Your turn.” Tyrell felt uneasy watching her transform in an instant from a proper lady to something more terrifying.
“How did I open the door?” He wanted the answer more than anything. He had his ideas, but he wanted to hear it come from Allison’s mouth.
“Very simple, actually.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Magic.”
It was the word Tyrell was expecting to hear, but it was also the word he didn’t want to hear. Since he was a child he had been told stories of ancient fighters who could wield magic on the battlefield, conquering foes at the flick of a hand, but he had always assumed they were just that: stories. This revelation brought about more questions than before, and he wanted more than anything to know the answers.
“I can tell you have more questions, which I will gladly answer after you tell me one more thing,” Allison said. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes to become more powerful than you could ever imagine, strong enough to tear down cities with a wave of your hand, to heal injuries with a single touch, or to destroy anyone who opposes you with a thought?”
Tyrell’s jaw dropped at these words. He had never had a strong urge for power, but hearing that it was now attainable, and the level he could reach, he knew what choice he had to make. “Yes, I am.”
The look on Allison’s face left Tyrell with no doubt that he gave the right answer. Her smile broadened until she was laughing hysterically. “This is perfect. You don’t know how happy this makes me. I’m sure you have many questions, but for now our time is at an end. I suggest you try and get some sleep; meet me back here tomorrow at midnight.” She stood up and walked to the door, opening it for Tyrell to take his leave. “Good night, Tyrell.” As he walked out the door she grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him to face her. He again looked into the eyes of someone fierce and dangerous as she said, “If you tell anyone what you saw tonight or what we talked about, I will kill you.”
Tyrell stood in shock at how fast Allison transformed before his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He stood tall with his shoulders back.
He walked calmly down the hall from the door, but as he rounded the corner he quickened his pace, trying to put as much distance between him and the room as possible. Tyrell’s mind was reeling as he worked his way back toward his chambers.
He exited the dungeon corridors with ease, finding no guards patrolling the halls. In the courtyard Tyrell walked along the walls, using the shadows to cover his movements. It took him only minutes to work his way around to the tower where he was staying. He opened the door and hopped inside, closing it tightly behind him.
The entryway to the tower was well lit with lanterns lining the walls. Tyrell hurried up the stairs toward his room. As he passed a landing, he noticed a door was partially open and he could hear voices from within. He had decided to move on rather than risk getting caught when he heard a familiar female voice.
Backtracking a couple steps, Tyrell peeked in through the opening to see the individuals within. He quickly covered his mouth to contain his gasp when he saw his sister lying in bed with only linen covering her naked body, and a man standing at the end of the bed with only his trousers on. Tyrell could clearly make out what they were saying.
“Do you treat all guests so fondly?” Amalia asked with a playful ring to her voice.
“Only ones as beautiful as you, My Lady.” Tyrell didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and was unable to see his face.
Amalia laughed. “Well, we will have to take full advantage of our time together; I would hate to prevent you from fulfilling your host duties.” She gave the man a seductive wink.
The man shook his head. “Don’t tempt me, My Lady, I might have to climb back in bed and put you to work again.” He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down next to Amalia. They embraced in a passionate kiss.
“I hate to see you leave,” Amalia finally said after they released their embrace. “Must you go?”
The man turned around, revealing a familiar face to Tyrell. “I’m afraid I have work to attend to. It’s my shift for guard watch on the prince’s chambers.” He bent down and picked up his shirt. “Good night, hopefully we will meet again.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.
As he walked toward the door, he threw his tunic on over his head and grabbed his sheath and belt that were hanging on a chair nearby. Tyrell quickly jumped up a couple steps and around a corner, out of sight.
He heard the door creak open and shut, followed by footsteps rushing down the steps and out of the tower.
Tyrell sat down and let out the breath that he had been holding. He rested his face in his hands, trying to make sense of everything that had happened during the evening.
“Tyrell, what are you doing out here?” Tyrell looked up to see Amalia standing two steps below him with a robe wrapped around her. Her arms were on her hips and her face was red with annoyance.
“I was just . . .” he started to protest, but hesitated, unsure of what to say.
Amalia grabbed him and pulled him into her chambers, shutting the door behind them. “Listen here, I saw you looking through the door, so don’t play dumb with me. What were you doing out at this time of night?” She sounded like his father, accusing him of disobeying his orders.
“You aren’t Father; you’re not in charge
of me.” He couldn’t help but raise his voice. His sister knew how to upset him. “What were you doing with that man? What about your dear husband?” He might have hated her husband, but he didn’t want her sleeping with random men, either.
Amalia slapped him across the cheek. “What I do with that man is none of your business.” She was fuming.
“Then what I do at night is none of yours. You know who he is, right? That’s the captain of the King’s Royal Guard you are fooling around with.” Tyrell wanted to strike his sister but held his fury back.
Amalia let out a sigh, trying to calm herself. “I know who he is. That’s why I invited him into my chambers.”
Tyrell shook his head in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would you do something so dumb?”
“Because the king is sending our soldiers to Bravestone to lead the charge and take the fort, and he is sending Captain Kosoth and the prince to help lead the charge.” She stepped closer, reaching out a hand and resting it on Tyrell’s shoulder. “The king wants you to go with, so I brought Zaren to my chambers and asked him to convince the king to let you stay here.”
Tyrell smacked her hand away. “So you decided to whore yourself out so that I didn’t have to fight? How noble of you.” She slapped him again. Tyrell felt blood drip down his cheek.
“Get out now,” she demanded, pointing toward the door.
Tyrell grabbed her by the arms, holding her tight. “Listen to me carefully. I don’t need help or protection from a whore like you, so stay away from me and mind your own business.” Tyrell threw his sister to the ground.
He turned and walked away, followed only by silence. He slammed the door shut without looking back.
32
Gant followed Garth, who everyone called Ghost, as they climbed the rigging to the top of the main mast. Ghost was the ship’s lookout and also their archer. Gant had bonded with him instantly and made an effort to learn as much from the sailor as he could. The wind kept getting stronger as they climbed.
Gant held onto the ropes tightly, focusing on staring forward. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. He had never experienced heights like this before.
He looked up to see Ghost climbing from the rigging onto a small platform at the top. Gant reached the top, then gracefully hauled his body up to join the other man.
Gant was amazed by the view. He couldn’t see any land, only sea, and it was truly breathtaking. The two sat in silence, simply taking in the sights.
“This is . . .” Gant struggled to find a word for the sensation he was feeling. “Awesome. This is what you do every day?” Gant turned toward his new friend, noting how his features looked in the bright sun.
Ghost had one large scar that stretched from his forehead to chin. Gant tried not to stare at it or wonder how it happened, but instead looked into the eyes of the man behind it.
“I like to come up here to think, but occasionally Valcor will send me up to get a bearing on our location.” He had a thick southern accent.
Gant simply nodded, rather than break the peace of their view. He craned his neck to look behind him, trying to take in everything, when a small glimpse of white in the distance caught his eye. “Ghost, do you see something over there?” Gant pointed.
Ghost, to Gant’s surprise, stood up on the perch and held a hand over his eyes. He smiled. “Nice catch, that’s a sail.” He sat back down, and Gant could see him relax. “It’s most likely just a trader, nothing to worry about.”
Gant kept looking in the same direction. “What about the other three ships?” Gant pointed again toward three other white shapes in the distance.
Ghost leapt to his feet in shock, peering at the horizon. “That would be a fleet, which is definitely something to worry about.” The two men hurriedly scrambled down the rigging and back onto the ship’s deck.
Gant followed closely behind Ghost as he made his way to the helm, where Valcor and Henrik were conversing.
“We’ve got a problem. Four ships on our tail, moving fast,” Ghost reported.
Valcor nodded and turned to look off the stern. He squinted, peering into the distance. “Square rigs, shouldn’t be too much of a problem. We’re going to have to skip our stop in Port Hallsworth.” He turned back to Henrik. “All hands on deck to change course. We’ll head into the wind, keep the sheets hauled in close.” Valcor grabbed the helm as Henrik and Ghost briskly marched off to complete their tasks.
Gant was amazed at how organized the crew was and how they responded to every command instantly. He was turning to leave as he remembered what he had told Ros immediately after they boarded the ship, hoping his message would reach Apo’k. “We have to go to Port Hallsworth,” he said as he turned back to face the tall captain.
Valcor shook his head. “Unless you want your friends here to catch us, there’s no way we can do that.”
“We have to; we’re supposed to meet one of our friends there.”
“I’m sorry, but your friend is going to have to find his own way.” Valcor shrugged apologetically.
Gant stepped closer to Valcor, trying to make himself seem as intimidating as possible. “No, we’re going to go to Port Hallsworth to pick up our friend. Once we have him, we’ll get out as soon as possible.”
“The kid actually makes a good point.” Gant hadn’t noticed Carn sneak up on them. “If we head into the port as planned, they’ll think we don’t see them. They’re going to push their rowers as fast as possible to catch up to us. Once we grab their friend and go, we’re going to be heading due east, directly into the wind. They won’t be able to use their sails anymore and their rowers will already be exhausted.”
Carn’s understanding of naval tactics surprised Gant.
Valcor scratched his chin as he nodded. “It could work. All right, we’ll hold a steady course.” He turned to face Gant again. “If your friend isn’t on those docks waiting for us, we’re out of there.”
Carn nodded and gestured for Gant to follow him fore. As they reached the main deck, Henrik was calling out commands to the rest of the crew. “Henrik, we’re holding course,” Carn said. He quickly explained the plan to Henrik, who nodded along with it.
“Sounds good to me.” Henrik licked his lips with excitement. He was a fighter and loved the possibility of combat. He turned toward the others. “Ghost, back up the rigging. I want you to keep an eye on those ships until they are well within eyesight. Then come on down and help out. Two Foot and Mic, haul the jib and jumbo for some extra speed. Don and Cal, you’re with me; we’re trimming sails as the captain needs.” He looked around at the others standing by for orders. “Alric, you’re on bow watch. Julia, can you check in on Rysh and then join him?”
Since Rysh had his tour of the ship, he had been on bedrest. His ankle hurt too much to move around and he was still physically exhausted.
“Carn and Gant, go through the fo’c’sle and bring to the deck anything we don’t need. We’re going to need to lose some weight in order to distance ourselves.” The crew dispersed across the deck, going about their tasks. Even Gant and his friends were fitting in seamlessly with the rest of the crew.
“Come on, we better get moving.” Carn started climbing down the ladder into the hull of the ship. Gant followed close behind him into the dark, damp fo’c’sle, and the two started going through barrels of food and supplies, trying to figure out what they could spare.
Gant found six barrels next to each other. As he tilted them, he could feel a liquid sloshing around inside them. “What are these?” he asked. Carn looked over, eyeing the barrels.
“Ale.” He turned and went back to work, searching through a number of other containers.
“Do we really need six barrels of ale?” Gant looked back at the barrels, befuddled by the amount of alcohol they had on board.
Carn let out a small chuckle. “If you want to try and convince Two Foot, Don, and Alric that we don’t need them, be my guest.” Gant made a mental note that the barrels could be expendable.
After a few hours of work, Gant and Carn had cleared out a handful of items from the fo’c’sle and began tossing them overboard with the help of Two Foot and Mic while Henrik supervised, approving each item’s departure.
After they had thrown all the excess items overboard, all they could do was wait and see what difference it made.
Ros walked up and padded against Gant’s leg, panting anxiously. Gant knelt down to the animal, whispering in her ear. “Apo’k, we have a small window to come in and get you. We’re only a few hours out, so please be there waiting for us.”
“Have you really resorted to talking to dogs?” Don sat on the box compartment leading out of the fo’c’sle with a bottle in his hand. “I recognize her from Wayton.” Gant hardly recognized the grizzled man compared to the soldier he once was.
“She doesn’t like the ship, so I’m trying to keep her calm,” Gant lied. He didn’t want to reveal Apo’k’s gifts without his consent.
Don stared suspiciously at Gant. He lifted the bottle to his lips, never taking his eyes off Gant. “Your dad’s proud of you, I can see it in the way he looks at you.” Don stood, swaying as he approached Gant and Ros. He walked right up to Gant and stood directly in front of him, the stench of ale strong on his breath. “The girl fancies you as well, and I know you have feelings for her in return.” He stepped back with a smile on his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” He gestured with his hand, as if locking his lips together and throwing a key into the sea. He turned and walked away without another word.
Gant sat with Ros, watching the land grow closer as they approached Port Hallsworth, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Julia approaching with Rysh leaning against her shoulder.
“Dad!” Gant exclaimed. He lurched to his feet to greet his father. He blushed as he made eye contact with Julia, thinking of Don’s words, quickly averting his gaze back to his father. “How are you feeling?” he asked, still avoiding Julia’s gaze.
