by Garry Spoor
Elmac stepped forward and removed a small black box from the top of a stack of books, the same box Kile saw him with back at the palace.
“The Alva have been gracious enough to present the king with this,” he said, opening the box. Whatever was inside was glowing green.
“What is it?” Jasa asked, beating Kile to the question.
Reaching into the box, Elmac removed a strange wooden device. “This is a compass,” the mystic said.
“It doesn’t look like any compass I’ve ever seen.”
“Nor that it should, Master Jasa. This is a unique compass because it doesn’t point north.”
“Then what good is it?”
“It points to the Heart of Nilak,” Galan explained. “This will lead us through the stormwall and to the island on the other side.”
“You’re putting a lot of hope in a trinket,” Boraro remarked.
“We have to. Without it, we’ll never be able to pinpoint the exact location of the artifact,” Elmac said.
Kile had seen the compass only once before when it was presented to the king during the ceremony at Windfoil. Now, seeing it up close, she still didn’t know what it was. How could a glowing green piece of wood direct them to the artifact?
“I can’t believe you’re in on this, Heaney,” Boraro complained. “I thought you were a little more sensible.”
Heaney sighed. “Look,” he held up his hands to silence the room. “We were given an assignment, and that assignment is to bring back the Heart of Nilak for the good of the crown as well as the Alverian race. Therefore, we must risk the stormwall to reach the island where the Heart is being kept.”
Boraro pointed at the desk. “With those maps and that compass?”
This time, Elmac stepped forward. “Not entirely, Master Boraro. The Alva have come to us because we have something they do not have.”
“And what’s that? Stupidity in mass numbers? Oh no, wait, they sailed five ships into the storm to have birds map it.”
“Garret, please.”
“Heaney…”
“Just listen.”
Boraro flopped down into the chair beside Creech, who at this point had said nothing. The shifty Hunter looked over at his companion and grinned. Heaney motioned for Galan to continue.
“Thank you, Master Heaney,” the Alva said before addressing the group. “It is true, we believed, in our ignorance, that we could retrieve the Heart of Nilak ourselves. Sadly, we were wrong. The maps have proven less than accurate, as Master Boraro has pointed out. Although we believe one of our ships made it through the stormwall, we have heard nothing from them in over a year. This is why the Alva council has decided to seek the aid of the vir. You have among you skills that we as a people no longer possess. This is why we need your help. It is quite possible this may be the last great effort of the Alva to regain that which we have lost or fade from this world forever.”
Boraro laughed. “And this is our problem?”
Heaney was about to caution the Hunter, but Galan stopped him. “He is right. The plight of the Alverian race is not the responsibility of the vir, but in recovering the Heart of Nilak, we can help both of our peoples.”
“Right you are, Galan,” Elmac said, stepping into the middle of the room. “Now, enough of this discussion. What we have to do is prepare. This will not be easy, but I think if we work together, we’ll be able to pass between the storms with… little damage.”
Dotol quickly looked up from his charts. “How little is little?” he asked.
“Nothing to worry about,” the mystic replied, nervously rubbing his hands together. “As I said earlier, we were all chosen for a reason. Master Boraro, due to your well-documented successes in the defeat of the black water pirates, you are considered, by the Guild, the most skilled Hunter in the water arts. Is this correct?”
Boraro slowly looked around the room. “We do not speak openly about our individual Edges…”
“Yes, yes, I know all about the Hunter’s Code. A Hunter’s Edge is known only by the Hunter and the mystic who teaches him, but under these circumstances, I think we can dispense with all that secrecy, don’t you?”
Elmac never waited for Boraro’s response. Instead he turned his attention to Creech. “Master Creech, you are considered quite knowledgeable in the wind arts, especially the wind-walking skill, am I correct?”
“I’ve made no claims, one way or the other,” the Hunter whispered.
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?”
“Take it any way you want to.”
“Fine. This is how I see it. Combining Master Creech’s wind-walking skills with those of Master Boraro’s water reading, along with the compass, we should not only be able to read the weather patterns but navigate successfully through them.”
“Mystic Elmac, what about Hunter—”
“No.” Elmac cut Heaney off before he could say anything more. “We’ve discussed this, Master Heaney. It’s too risky.”
“Risky or not, it may be our best—”
“You have agreed to defer to my expertise in this, and I say this is the better plan.”
Heaney stepped back with a slight bow. “As you wish, Mystic Elmac.”
Kile couldn’t help but wonder who was actually in charge of the company.
“It’s settled. We should probably get ready.”
~~~***~~~
Kile and Daniel were ordered to stay in the captain’s quarters while the crew set about preparing the ship for what seemed like a suicide run into the heart of a storm. Sails were taken down and replaced with smaller, hardier ones while anything judged nonessential was stowed below deck. Hatches and portholes were sealed up and anything that moved was tied down. The overall morale of the crew wasn’t high, either. It seemed this particular part of the voyage had been kept from them as well.
Daniel sat in the captain’s chair, staring up at the ceiling while Vesper explored the desk. Kile paced the floor.
“Everything will be fine. They know what they’re doing. We merely have to sit here and ride it out,” Daniel said, leaning back in the chair. It was the same thing he said, give or take a few words, every ten minutes, and even though he tried to sound calm, he clearly wasn’t. However, it wasn’t the storm, Kile was worried about, although it was on her mind; it was the conversation between Elmac and Heaney.
She stopped pacing to look at Daniel. “I can do something to help,” she told him.
“What are you talking about, what can you do?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know,” she said.
Daniel stared at her in silence for a moment and shook his head. “Just what we need, more levelheaded thinking.”
“Didn’t you hear what Heaney said?”
“Hear what? What are you going on about?”
“Right before Elmac cut him off, Master Heaney was about to suggest something. Something one of the Hunters could do.”
“So?”
“Don’t you get it? He must have been talking about me.”
“Oh, come on, Kile. I never considered you that narcissistic. There are four other Hunters on this ship besides you. What makes you think he was talking about you?”
“Simple. Master Boraro and Master Creech were already part of the plan, so there was no reason for him to suggest one of them, and he clearly wouldn’t have suggested himself unless he started to refer to himself in the third person. So who’s left but me?”
Daniel sat up in his chair. “What about me? I’m a Hunter too.”
“I know, Danny, but think about it. How much experience do you have on a ship?”
“More than you.”
“But how much field experience?”
“What does that have to do with anything? I’m skilled in the water arts too. He could have easily been talking about me.”
“No offense, Danny, but your Edge, although invaluable, is in the healing arts. That’s why you were chosen for this expedition. Why bring two Hunters skilled in the water arts when one was clea
rly enough.”
“I think you’re overthinking it,” Daniel said and returned to staring at the ceiling. “I mean, Heaney could have been talking about another plan altogether, one involving Master Boraro or even Master Creech that was different from the one Elmac came up with.”
“Yeah… I suppose,” Kile reluctantly agreed. She had to admit, it was one scenario she hadn’t considered.
“Besides, what can you possibly do? You don’t like being on the ship to begin with. You’re not exactly a sailor. Master Boraro, Master Creech, and Master Heaney all have experience on ships, which is probably why they were chosen in the first place. Even I have some experience on the water. That’s more than I can say for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I’m probably overthinking it.”
“Let them do what they have to do, and sit this one out.”
Maybe Daniel was right. Maybe she was overthinking it and Heaney’s alternate plan had nothing to do with her. However, the look Heaney shared with Boraro when he questioned her inclusion in the company, was not a figment of her imagination. There was definitely something there, something unspoken. It was almost like there was something going on, something she wasn’t privy to as if everyone around her was involved in a grand scheme and they forgot to include her. Maybe they didn’t forget. Maybe she was never meant to know. Maybe it was her paranoia kicking in again.
Kile flopped down on the chair opposite Dotol’s desk and stared out the large window. The waters were getting choppier now and the sky was growing darker. Even the wind had picked up. She could hear the Charlotte protesting her involvement in the plan. The ship no more wanted to sail into the storm than her crew did.
Tapping nervously on the arm of the chair, Kile looked out over the ocean, over the many miles they had traveled. Somewhere, back there, was land. She may not have a home back there, but she now knew she was never meant for life on the sea. Ten days aboard the Charlotte. How many more before they reached the island? It didn’t matter, because the worst part about it, should they reach their destination, was that they still had to make the return trip. For every day she spent getting to the island, she would have to spend another day getting back. It meant she could look forward to at least another ten days rocking along on the sea. She stood and started pacing again.
“Hey, look what Vesper found,” Daniel said, pulling a chart out from under the yarrow. He had gotten bored staring up at the ceiling rafters and decided to join Vesper in snooping around the captain’s desk.
It was a strange map. Kile hadn’t seen anything like it, but her knowledge of cartography was about as extensive as her knowledge of ships.
-Smell different. Not vir,- the yarrow said as Daniel tried to flatten it out on the desk.
“Is this an Alva map?” Kile asked the yarrow
-Not vir,- he repeated.
“I think this is the one Galan was talking about,” Daniel said.
The map was divided, not only by a grid, but by lines and arcs. Supposedly each one meant something different. There were numbers written along the edges and several runes scribbled in the corners that were illegible. A recently added heavy, zigzagging, line, ran down the center.
“This must be the course the Alverian ship took,” Daniel exclaimed.
“How can you tell?”
“See here.” He pointed to a place on the line. “Each of these points must represent a place where the Alverian ship was located when they sent one of their birds. By connecting all the points, the Alva have a basic course through the storm.”
“I hate to say it, but Master Boraro has a point. How can you plot your position in the middle of a storm?” Kile asked.
“Well, it’s not easy, I’ll give you that, but there are ways, and it’s possible the Alva know a few tricks we don’t”
“I don’t know, Danny. It still sounds a bit fishy.”
“What? You think the Alva are lying?”
“How should I know? It’s not like we’re kept in the loop. We should…”
Before Kile could finish her thought, the ship suddenly rolled and she was thrown, facefirst, into the far wall. The impact left her dazed, and she tried to keep her balance, but the room tilted again. Stumbling backward, she fell on the floor and started sliding toward the other side of the room. She grabbed the leg of the desk before she slid past it. It was the closest thing not moving since it had been conveniently bolted to the deck for such an occasion. Holding on to the desk, she tried to pull herself up, but up wasn’t where up used to be. Above her was a wall of pictures, which now rained down on her. She quickly turned away as paintings flew past, dropping to the floor, which was now the large window. The glass was quickly covered up with the charts and maps that once occupied the captain’s desk, as well as every other piece of stray furniture from around the room. Through the gaps, she could no longer see the sky, only the cold, dark water. She braced herself, fearing the ship was going to roll over backward, but it fell forward instead. There was a brief moment of weightlessness followed by a sudden shift in gravity, and the pictures came back. Kile ducked below the edge of the desk as they flew over her head, striking the wall below her.
Whoever had the idea that they’d be safer in the captain’s quarters didn’t think it through.
The room leveled out enough for Kile to peer over the top of the desk, where Daniel was still sitting in the captain’s chair. Yet another piece of furniture that was bolted to the floor. The young man’s face was pale, his eyes were tightly shut, and he clutched the arms of the chair to the point his knuckles were white.
“Danny, you okay?” she asked.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he moaned.
“Don’t you dare!”
The ship rolled again. Vesper, who secured himself in one of the desk’s unused inkwells, quickly latched on to Kile’s arm before she lost her grip and was thrown backward. She hit the far wall where she grabbed one of the chairs, which had also been secured to the floor. Pulling herself into the seat, she curled up around the yarrow, closed her eyes, and hoped the worst was over. Things were never that easy.
The cabin door flew open and a soaked private Awald tumbled in. Bracing himself against the wall, he slowly stood.
“You all right in here?” he called out.
“Oh, just peachy,” Kile said. “What in all the realms is going on out there?”
“We hit the stormwall,” the soldier explained, but she pretty much had that figured out.
Awald stumbled farther into the room, trying to keep his balance as he gripped the doorjambs. “The mystic had a bit of a rough start, but he believes he has the hang of it now and it should be smooth sailing from here on out.” Although the young soldier tried to sound sincere, he wasn’t fooling anyone.
The ship suddenly pitched wildly and Awald was thrown to the floor again. There was a loud, sharp crack, the sound of wood splintering, and Kile was afraid the ship had finally broken in half. Closing her eyes, she gripped the arms of her chair tighter and waited for the inevitable. When she was sure they weren’t heading toward the bottom of the sea, she slowly looked up. Awald was picking himself off the floor. The fear in his eyes did not inspire much confidence.
“If this is smooth sailing, I’m a valrik’s aunt,” Kile exclaimed.
The storm was louder now since the cabin door had blown open. They could hear the sounds of men shouting commands over the roar of the wind, which was near deafening. Combined with the smell of lightning and the taste of salt, Kile could feel her senses reaching their breaking point. She was having a hard time finding her center as the ship pitched on the storm-driven waves. Her feral side was desperately clawing its way out, trying to reach the surface. She did everything she was taught to keep it under control and was winning the battle until that unmistakable fragrance reached her. After that, there was no holding back.
She was up, out of her seat, and across the room before Daniel could react. Awald, who was now bracing himself in the
doorway, tried to stop her.
“You can’t go out there.” He grabbed her arm. “It’s too dangerous.”
She looked at him, and he quickly released her.
“Kile, stop,” Daniel called out. He had made it around the desk and was tossed forward by the tilting of the ship.
She turned her yellow eyes on him. “Don’t you smell it?”
“Smell… smell what?”
“The blood.”
“Okay, Ki. Get a grip because you’re starting to creep me out.”
“Coming through,” Heaney yelled, pushing his way into the room. Kile jumped back as the large Hunter half carried, half dragged an injured sailor out of the storm. It was a young man, hardly out of his teens. His face was pale and he was barely holding on to consciousness. His left leg was torn open from his hip down to his knee. Heaney gently lowered him to the floor, or as gently as the rocking ship would allow. A second sailor, one who was a bit older, staggered in behind them. An old cloth, which he had wrapped around his arm, was soaked in blood.
“What happened?” Daniel asked, dropping to the floor beside the young man. Slowly, he peeled away the tattered remains of the sailor’s clothes, exposing the wound. Kile forced herself to look away.
“We lost the mizzen and she took two men with her,” Heaney said.
The room was suddenly filled with the smell of salt water, but Kile knew it wasn’t from the ocean outside. Daniel was using his magic, and the blue strands of light slowly wove their way through the young sailor’s torn leg. She could have told him it wasn’t going to help because it wasn’t the only new smell in the room. The Lasting. A smell she had grown too accustomed to after the fall of Moran. Death had opened its door again and it was waiting for the young sailor.
Kile quickly pushed past the other men. She needed to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Someone called out to her, it could have been Heaney, but she ignored him. She had to get out, she couldn’t stay, not without losing it completely.
Outside wasn’t much better; in fact, it was complete chaos. They were in the heart of the storm now. Dark clouds blocked out the sun and the winds howled across the deck. The rain was so dense she could barely see the forecastle, where three men confronted the storm. If it wasn’t for the green light emanating from the compass Elmac held in his outstretched hand, she wouldn’t have known they were there. The mystic was tied to the forward mast, his arm raised toward the storm while he shouted words that were drowned out by the squall. What magic he was performing seemed to have little effect on the weather or the ship. Boraro was on his left, a thick rope around his waist tying him to the rail. He could barely stay on his feet as the wind and the rocking kept knocking him to his knees. Creech wasn’t doing much better, but at least he had the good sense not to try and stand.
