Within the warm embrace of darkness Aeden dreamt. Aeden dreamt of the red door buried within the crypt of the monastery. The sounds of a distant voice permeated the dark shroud of delusion. The voice spoke in rhymes of a hidden god trapped by the arkein. It whispered of lines of ancient magic stretching across a tumultuous sea.
Aeden awoke with a start. His head throbbed painfully as he sat up. Stars ringed his vision as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. A full minute passed as he sat there waiting for the pain to subside. He waited for memory to wash back and fill him like a rising ocean tide.
He blinked away tears and forced himself to assess his situation.
“Dope’s awake, he’s not late, for there’s no fate, but here,” a voice rang out in the semblance of a song, yet completely out of key and partially incoherent.
Aeden slid back away from the sound. He wasn’t alone.
“Slither away, like a snake, but he’s a fake.”
Aeden scrambled to his feet as his eyes adjusted to the dim conditions. There was enough light to slowly make out the stone walls. His eyes scanned the room. He saw a chair, a table, and what appeared to be a man.
Suddenly the stench of the room assaulted his nose and caused his eyes to water. The dark shape squatting by the door moved toward him. The hunched shape was like a mass of broken stones wrapped in clothing.
“A friend to take, or a man to hate, we shall rate or see,” he uttered in a rasping and broken voice.
“Stay back,” Aeden warned his hand reflexively moving toward his Templas blade.
The handle was buried under a cloak and some furs, but he was comforted to find his sword still firmly strapped to his back. The man scampered closer like a wild animal inspecting another of its kind.
“Soon they peek, returning weak, for those they seek,” the man hummed as he spoke.
The sound of cold steel being drawn rang out audibly in the stone room. The hunched man came to a halt and titled his head and masked his eyes as if the very blade shone brighter than the sun.
“Fate’s reward, is t’never be bored, bringing heaven’s storm, and killing all those aboard.”
Aeden took a threatening step forward and the man retreated to the corner opposite the door. The pulsing agony in Aeden’s eyes intensified, causing him to grip his sword more tightly. The image of his father standing under an overhang, studying him judgmentally flashed through his mind’s eye.
The pulsing faded and a determination to escape, to help his brother monks washed over him. He stepped toward the door and noticed there was no handle. He pushed on the door. It didn’t move.
“Fevered man, holding fate’s own hand, sinks like falling sand,” the hunched man sang out more loudly than Aeden would’ve liked.
The tune continued as he watched Aeden through curious eyes. Eyes that were only half here and half masked by the glossy look of someone gone mad.
Aeden spun about as he heard a soft splashing thump. The man hadn’t moved. A rat? He looked at the door again and glanced through the metal bars. All he could make out was a lone flickering candle in a wide hallway. He strained to hear for a moment. The sound of snoring traveled faintly down the corridor like a gentle note.
“Where am I?” Aeden asked the man.
The man played with the ground, drawing random patterns, no response.
Another sloshing thunk drew Aeden’s attention to the far side of the room. He walked over investigating the floor. A puddle was evident and a few small chunks of what appeared to be salt were scattered about the floor. Why would there be salt on the floor, he thought.
He traced his boot through the puddle and broke apart some of the soft salt. It had the consistency of powdered sugar. He leaned forward onto the wall only to retract his hand. A thin sheen of water was trickling down the cold surface. He followed the water source to the roof.
Was that a hole in the roof? He stood on his tip toes and used his sword to probe the roof. Chunks of snow fell through along with some old, rotting building materials. He jumped back and blinked his eyes and coughed up whatever had landed in his gaping mouth.
Maybe the Thirteen were watching over him after all, or was it Salvare? Too much time with the monks he thought briefly.
After wiping his eyes free of tears he glanced about for anything to allow him to better reach the roof. There was a table and a chair. It was almost too easy. He sheathed his sword and grabbed the table.
“Sword’s gone quiet, hissing like a giant, waiting for self-reliant to echo free…” the man fell into a spasm of coughs.
Aeden eyed him for a moment before using the coughing noises to mask the sound of dragging a heavy wooden table across the room. It still felt painfully loud to his ears. He came to a stop on the other side of the room, breathing hard. The sound of his heart rushed through his ears and pounded away angrily within his head.
He strained to listen to anything beyond the closed wooden door. He feared guards rushing in. Aeden wondered for a moment if he’d be willing to cut them down in an effort to escape. The door remained closed and his mind wandered back to the hole in the ceiling. How old was this building? He thought curiously.
Once on top of the table Aeden pulled out his sword and began to work at the hole. This time he shielded his eyes and kept his mouth closed as it rained debris.
“Escape to the roof, our soldier’s on the loose,” the man now began to shout.
Aeden sheathed his sword and risked a quick glance at the deformed man. The man’s face was pulled by the temporal hands of a devil’s fate. Aeden tore his gaze loose from the man’s contorted features. The singing continued unabated.
“Masquerading ruse, brothers shall pass, they shall see, entertaining muse…”
He hefted himself up through the narrow hole he had created. Bits of roof fell free and he lost his grip twice, nearly crashing down into the room, before finally hefting himself onto the cold, snowy canopy.
A thick gust of wind threatened to push Aeden back into the prison he’d escaped from. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he struggled to believe his good fortune.
“Up there!” A brutish voice shouted.
Aeden just realized the singing of the hunched man had stopped. It was replaced by the rough voice of the men who had brought him there. His heart sank. He looked about for his next move.
The sound of one man scrambling after him set fire to his movements. Glancing down he saw it was too high to jump. His only option was to make it to the next roof. He braced his feet as best he could before leaping to the nearest rooftop. The impact knocked snow free and for a moment he madly scrambled for purchase.
Aeden’s feet found the lip of the roof line and his descent was abruptly halted. He didn’t hesitate as he clambered around the roofline toward the next building. The sound of his pursuers never felt far behind.
He was able to leap and run across two more buildings before gravity caught up with him. Aeden made one final leap to a smaller building. As soon as he landed he felt the weight of his body and the burden of the snow tear through the poorly crafted roof. He fell upon a bed of straw amidst a few startled animals.
There was a brief moment where a goat stared stupidly at him before they all fell through the second floor. He hit the ground floor with a jarring thud. His spine tingled as though a hammer had been taken to it.
A family of four sat in stunned silence. There upon their floor was a stranger clad in furs, surrounded by two goats, a dog, some straw, and a pile of snow. A cold wind howled through the hole in their ceiling and the goat bleated in response.
Aeden pushed himself to his feet, dusting himself off. He quickly checked for injuries and was relieved to find himself more or less in one piece. The child pointed to Aeden as though the others hadn’t seen him. The mother gripped her child, and the man stared with the same blank intensity as the goat.
“I’m sorry for dropping in,” Aeden said with a half-smirk as he stepped out the door, his adrenaline pumping and t
houghts of Devon briefly passing through his head.
It had started snowing. A light flurry danced in his vision as his eyes readjusted to the night.
“I see him!” A voice shouted from a nearby house.
Aeden wasted no time as he bolted down the street. The sound of cursing and labored breathing followed him for the first few minutes. His feet slipped and struggled for purchase on the ice covered roads. The sun had slipped behind the black canvas of night. Stars, the faint sliver of moonlight, and a few street lamps provided the only light. Shades of silvery gray cast the scene in hues of despair, apathetic to Aeden’s plight.
He ducked down alleys. He ran past homes, taverns, and shuttered businesses. By the time his breath was strained and his heart was pumping wildly, the sounds of cursing faded away. His pursuers had finally given up. Aeden was free and as he soon realized, thoroughly lost.
Chapter 46
“Providence is often more than mere coincidence.” Matters of Fate, Book of Galdor
Aeden had spent a long cold night shivering upon the streets of Petra’s Landing. He walked in shadow, hidden from the reaching light of a partial moon. Silver strands of light played with the city in a spidery dance of enchantment.
The hours stretched past before Aeden finally stumbled upon the northern harbor of Grace’s Fortune. The sun had begun to force its gentle way into the sky. Clouds parted at its behest, and warmth finally began to make its way into Aeden’s heart.
“Brother Aeden!”
The voice was all too familiar. Aeden’s heart leapt with joy. Had it only been a day? He had been worried that the others would have left. Or that they would have been found by Gavin and Bryce. His mind had tormented him with wicked images and horrible scenes, each iteration causing him to spiral further into darkness.
Adel ran forward and embraced him. Aeden smiled and hugged him back.
“The others are safe? Odilo, Neri?”
“Of course, we’re all fine. The light of Salvare has watched over us, just as you’ve helped protect us.”
A sudden tugging at Aeden’s heart threatened to tear away the fragile barrier he had so carefully built up. It was a curtain of promulgated strength. One he had cast about himself to protect him from having to feel too much. Yet, now after so many days, feeling so drained, the damn broke. The death of his father, his friends, of Dannon. The brutal murders of the monks at Nailsea, Thomas lying upon the earth by a wheel of cheese. They all tumbled forward and tears flowed freely upon his face.
“We’re safe brother, because of you,” Adel had continued, pausing once he saw Aeden’s state. Adel spoke again, “Neri helped us secure a ship. It was the strangest thing. We’ve passage southward. Away from all this! South to where it is warm. Everything will be okay now.”
Adel looked at Aeden with a mixture of concern and brotherly love.
“They’re waiting. We leave at dawn’s breaking.”
Aeden hastily wiped the tears from his swollen eyes. His face felt cold and numb. With a ragged breath he stifled his emotions and followed Adel toward the vast northern port.
His heart was twisted in knots and his stomach felt like leaden stone. Aeden barely noticed the stone towers that stood as sentinels upon the end of the fingers of land extending into the bay. Walls of stone protected Petra’s Landing from the wrath of the sea and from those who wished to invade. Wooden piers jutted out onto calm waters, straddled by the largest sea-going vessels Aeden had ever seen.
Ships of unbelievable size floated in the docks. Hives of workers moved about in a frenzy of activity, loading and unloading goods. Crates, barrels, and sacks lined the piers and were carried upon the backs of overly-muscled men.
“This way,” Adel said.
Aeden tore his gaze from the ships and the waters they floated upon. He focused his attention on the young brother monk’s back. The thick furs of his cloak swung lightly as he walked. Bits of snow clung desperately to the course hair of the fur lining.
Just ahead Odilo’s scarred face turned to meet his gaze as though he felt him coming. A smile creased his features, although it barely touched his eyes. It was as though the passage of time had finally worn away at the innocence of his soul.
“We must board now, or risk losing passage aboard the Seventh Sage,” Odilo said ushering them toward the wooden planking running up toward the main deck of a three mast ship.
The ship rose and fell to the rhythm of the sea in a gentle undulating manner. Aeden walked quickly up the plank and jumped onto the deck of the wooden vessel. It was far larger than the barges, schooners, scows and smaller caravels he had seen.
“Head to the sterncastle, C’ptn’ll see ya now,” a man shouted from the busy deck.
Aeden, Neri, Odilo, and Adel stood like stunned animals on deck. None of them knew where the sterncastle was. Men shuffled around them as they made the ship ready for sea.
“That there is the c’ptn’s quarters,” a younger man pointed as he passed.
The galley was cramped. They climbed a set of stairs to the extended poop deck behind the mainmast. Toward the stern of the ship was another raised structure looking a little like a miniature castle. The name now made sense as the group approached the open door.
“We were told to see you once onboard,” Odilo offered.
The captain was flanked by two other men. He didn’t acknowledge them immediately. Instead he continued to study a chart laid out across a wooden drawing board. He nodded to one of the men who shoved his way past them before turning to the monks.
“Ah yes, the four monks traveling south,” he said in near perfect Heortian.
His face was deeply tanned as were his hands. Wrinkles about his eyes spoke of his age. He was shorter than Aeden would have thought, and his features reminded him mildly of Neri.
“My second master will show you to your living area, familiarize you with the ship, and most importantly the rules.”
The second master was a taller man and despite the layers of clothing, appeared to be thickly built. His brow was furrowed and he squinted at them as he stepped out. His hands were balled into fists and he looked ready to fight.
“This way,” he said in a tone that belied his size and appearance, it was almost gentle in nature.
“This is the mizzenmast,” he pointed to the stern beam that currently contained a folded sail. “This area is the poop deck, you aren’t allowed unless captain, first master, or myself say,” he lumbered past not waiting for a response.
They made their way down the stairs to the main deck.
“This’s the galley, here is often busy, better to stay out of the way,” the second master continued.
Aeden glanced about trying to guess how many people were onboard. There were people up on the masts and the webbed shrouds that stayed the main mast, on the three different levels of the deck, and from what he could tell there were more below.
Ahead was an arched wooden alcove crammed full of sacks and a few barrels tied down. Thick ropes hung on hooks along the side walls. A single ladder led to the foredeck.
“Forecastle, don’t go there,” the man pointed to the front of the ship. “Food is eaten here,” he pointed to the open area below the poop deck behind them. Several sacks, smaller barrels, a single wooden table and bench were all squeezed under heavy wooden beams.
The man then led them down the open hatch to below deck. Immediately a dozen smells assaulted Aeden’s sensitive nose. The smell of stale salt water, fresh tar, and a sweet musky scent hung over the tapestry of odors like a lingering note.
“Don’t touch supplies,” the second master said as they walked past men adjusting cargo. It was dark, cramped, and cold. There was barely enough room for them to walk single file through the center of the ship. It reminded Aeden of the overfilled croft at the monastery. Just as there was a door off limits, here most everything was restricted. His excitement of being on the ship was already beginning to wane.
The air was damp and there appeared to be t
iny leaks allowing water into the main hold. Small dark shapes scurried into hidden corners behind stacks of supplies.
“You live here and sleep here, top deck allowed twice a day.” The second master looked about with a bit of a smirk before disappearing up the stairs to the main deck.
“This should be fun,” Aeden said, trying to sound positive.
Neri grunted in disapproval as he lay upon a few sacks.
“Fun? I already feel sick to my stomach,” Adel replied, his face looking ashen in the relative darkness.
“Think on the warmth of the south. May Salvare watch over us,” Odilo said the last faintly.
It was barely overheard because of the shouting above and the creaking of the ship.
Chapter 47
“Nature’s mood is nothing more than the expression of Salvare’s wrath.” Saying of the Gemynd
The next week passed slowly. The winds were strong and buffeted the ship. The Seventh Sage creaked and moaned in response as if its very soul were complaining. Bilge water seeped into the hold and smelled of grimy salt and human waste.
The boatswain had tasked the monks with manning the pumps, which proved to be a constant job. They were relieved by members of the crew on occasion, yet there seemed to be no known schedule. Their arms ached, their backs hurt, and their stomachs were never quite satiated.
Sleep was an escape and when it came the rocking of the decks permeated their dreams. Food was a privilege. The rations were meager at best. They usually made due with sea biscuits, salted meat, and watery wine. The occasional warm food; bread, and beans, was reserved for the officers, then the crew.
Aeden had only been on the main deck a half dozen times and each day had been like the last. Steely clouds loomed low and large. The dark waters of the Black Sea churned and foamed like a mad beast.
“She’ll eat you in a sea minute if you let ‘er,” one of the crew members said slapping him heavily on the back, as he stared out to sea.
Tears of a Heart Page 29
