The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  The sack of jewels hanging off of his shoulder was heavy, and it was putting a strain on his ability to swim, so he put the cave off for the time being and made his way back up to the surface. Maehril was waiting at the rail of his ship, her arms folded across her chest, a disapproving expression on her face. He heaved the sack of jewels over the railing and climbed aboard sheepishly avoiding her piercing gaze. She had the water skin waiting for him, so he took a few long sips of the fresh water, before he tried to face her.

  “Come on now. I wasn’t gone fer that long.”

  She tapped her foot on the deck and huffed at him.

  “What’s it been, an hour? Maybe two?” Cano smiled apologetically. Maybe he had been under a bit longer than he’d meant to be. The sun was at its peak already. “Well then…did ya see anything? Any ships?”

  She shook her head no, and her expression didn’t change. She was not happy with him.

  “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.” He was afraid to tell her that he was going back down, but that cave couldn’t wait. Cano was a curious man by nature, and there was something going on in that cave. He just had to know what was in there. It would tear his insides up if he just left it alone.

  “Now look,” he said, looking her in the eye and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know yer upset that I took so long, and I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go back down there.”

  Maehril looked like she might slap him. She clearly was not in favor of being left up on the ship alone again.

  “There’s something down there I’ve got to check out. It’ll only take a few minutes, I promise.”

  She eyed him doubtfully, sadly.

  “Jest do as I told ya before.” It hurt him to see her upset, but he had to go check out that cave. “Remember. Tug twice if there’s trouble. As soon as I come back up, we’ll get out of here.”

  Maehril reluctantly nodded her head to let him know it was alright.

  He dove back over the rail and made a line straight for the cave mouth. Cano followed the smooth rock face until he was face to face with the cave. The green light within almost pulsed, and he could feel something inside beckoning to him. A voice in his head, distant and faint, told him to turn around and go back, but few things in the world scared him, and his curiosity won over. As he swam into the entrance, he passed into breathable air and dropped roughly to the smooth stone floor of the passage. He sat for a moment looking at the entrance. From the cave side, it looked like a wall of water. He couldn’t understand it. Why was the water unable to flood in? Even the floor of the cave, was completely dry.

  Cano got to his feet and looked toward the caves depths. The sick green light seemed to cling to the walls like shadows spilling down from a source deep within the mountain. He walked forward with caution, his feet taking him uphill. Some thirty feet or so in, the path leveled off and the passage began to widen and open into some sort of throne room. On the left side of the room the wall was cut into a great stone seat with intricate designs carved up the arms and back of the chair. Along the wall farthest from Cano, there was a small pool of some kind of oily black liquid. It was contained in a small raised well, the surface was still and undisturbed. The wall to Cano’s right had a large rectangular glass set into stone. It looked seamless, as though the glass were a part of the stone, and not something set there by hand. Cano scanned the room a moment trying to figure out the source of that green light. There was nothing that he could see. Maybe it’s the stone, he thought.

  Cano walked over to the rock throne and ran a hand over its precise lines and sharp edges. The carvings on the arms were words of some language he couldn’t make out. There were many languages in the world, though Desirmor had ordered that the language of Fandrall could be the only one spoken. It was a death sentence to be caught speaking a language other than Fandrian in the presence of a soldier of the Imperial army. The words on the arms could’ve been from some civilization that existed before Desirmor came to power. There was one word that he noticed repeated several times along both arms and the back of the throne. “ORISSA.” It sounded like a name to him, but whoever it was, the name was lost to history now.

  Then he turned and walked across the room to inspect the glass section in the opposite wall. His reflection was distant in the glass, as though he was standing far away, even though he was only a few feet from the mirror. It was a strange thing to look at. He knew that he could reach out and touch the glass if he wanted to, yet in the reflection it looked as if he was standing next to the throne.

  His hand reached out to touch the glass and as he brushed his rough finger tips along the smooth cold surface, his eyes widened with surprise as a green glow appeared in lines where his fingers had traced, like footprints in sand. Suddenly the glass became hot, and he pulled his hand back reflexively. The reflection in the glass went black, and a woman appeared before him, as though she were standing on the other side looking at her own reflection. She seemed surprised to be standing there, looking at her surroundings until her eyes came to rest on Cano standing awestruck on the other side of the glass. A wicked smile creased her lips. Her hair was long, straight and green. She had young features yet she seemed ageless. Her tall, thin body was on display in a form fitting, strapless black gown, which revealed nearly all of her small firm bosom, and spilled out on the ground hiding her feet. She held Cano in her gaze, fixing him with her eyes, the same sickly green color that filled the cave.

  This is wrong, Cano thought. She is wrong. He couldn’t say what it was for sure, but something told him she was an abomination, an evil from another world. He wanted to turn and run, but his feet wouldn’t respond. He stood there helpless staring into the eyes on the other side of the mirror. The woman’s smile deepened like a cat toying with a trapped mouse. She raised her right hand and began to reach for the glass that separated them. As her hand began to appear on his side, slowly sliding through the glass, her finger aching to touch him, a voice called out in Cano’s head. It was the same voice he had heard that morning when Maehril had held his hand.

  “RUN!” it screamed out in a voice that could have been his wife or daughter, so feminine and familiar.

  He tried to move his feet, tried to move any part of his body, to look away from the hand reaching through the glass toward him, but he was helpless. He could feel tears welling in his eyes from the strain of trying to make his limbs respond to his desperation. The hand was inches from him and the woman’s face now wore a wild, triumphant look.

  “RUN! RUN! RUN!” The voice was a deafening echo, booming in his head.

  Suddenly he felt his feet move. He stumbled back just as the hand clasped at the air where he had stood. He looked up at her from the ground, crawling away awkwardly. She was belligerent. Cano couldn’t hear her, but with her head thrown back and her mouth open, baring her teeth, he was certain she was howling with rage. She glared at him a moment, then with that same wicked smile, she clapped her hand together and closed her eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly. The black pool of oil to Cano’s left began to bubble. Slowly the liquid rose and spilled over the edge of the well, collecting on the ground and forming a tendril that snaked its way across the cave toward him.

  He wasn’t about to wait to find out what would happen if the oil reached him. Climbing to his feet, Cano turned and ran down the corridor. He tried to look over his shoulder just as the floor started to descend and lost his footing. Stumbling forward, he fell and began a barrel roll all the way down to the entrance, bursting clumsily into the ocean water. He felt beat up from the fall. His shoulders and back ached from repetitively slamming that hard stone floor, but he knew he had to go on. With every last bit of resolve he could muster, Cano swam for the surface, chancing a look back only once to note that the oil had left the cave and followed him up through the ocean water. It looked like a Kraken’s tentacle reaching right out of the rock to pull him down to his death.

  He emerged from the ocean depths with a giant splash only a few feet from the boat. Maehril
could sense his urgency and reached out one of her tiny hands to pull him up onto the deck. Cano quickly climbed aboard and fell at her feet, gasping for air and trying to get a hold of himself. His old body had been pushed to its limits and was letting him know that he could not take anymore. Still, he knew that he had to put the pain aside. He had to get the sails up, get the boat moving and as far away from that cave as possible. Maehril knelt over him, wordlessly trying to find out what had happened. She wore a mask of panic and fear.

  She was just getting him on his feet when the black oil burst up out of the water forming a wall encircling the ship and stretching at least twenty feet up to the sky. Cano fell back, grabbing Maehril and holding her behind him. He didn’t know how to protect her, but he was prepared to die if he had to. The oil wall began slowly closing over them, starting to form a dome from which there could be no escape. The sunlight started to disappear, and the darkness closed in all around them.

  Suddenly Maehril pushed him away. She stood and faced the oil wall. Her body became rigid as she threw her head back and stretched her arms out to both sides. Her feet left the deck, and she floated just a few inches above the spot where she’d been standing. The white light Cano had seen at times shining around her took form slowly at first, and then became brighter and more intense. It grew in volume, stretching out into a ball that enveloped the whole boat. Maehril opened her mouth, and a sound unlike anything Cano had ever heard before filled the light and made it pulse and push at the black oil. The sound was like a choir of a million children singing a single harmonious note in unison. It was as pure and true as the light that surrounded them, washing away all of his fear and weakness. He felt the aches and weariness leave his limbs and a feeling of ultimate peace exploded in his mind.

  The black wall of oil retreated momentarily as Maehril’s white light pushed it back. Thick black tendrils shot out from the wall in a dozen places, reaching toward the light as if to test its strength, then recoiling as though they’d touched the sun itself and been burned. The note became louder and the light expanded even more, forcing the oil to fall back. The wall suddenly gave up altogether, slipping back into the ocean without even a splash and disappeared into the water’s depths. Maehril held on just a few moments more. Then the light finally went out, the sound abruptly ended, and Maehril dropped gently back down to the deck. She looked around for a moment as though she’d forgotten where she was, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes with a strange casualness after such a forceful display of power. Her eyes fell on Cano, kneeling at her feet, looking upon her with an expression of complete and total awe. She reached down and took his hand, that simple, gentle smile gracing her lips. Suddenly her eyes rolled up into her head, and she crumpled to the deck.

  Cano gathered her up into his arms, checking her breathing and pulse. His first reaction was to fear the worst, but she seemed to be only unconscious. Her breath came in a slow, steady rhythm and her heart beat was faint, but there. Cano tried to force some water down her throat, but it just bubbled right back out the corners of her mouth. He carried her to the small compartment, just a tiny space with some blankets and a pillow, he had below the deck. After gently placing her head on the pillow and trying his best to arrange the blankets to make her comfortable, he looked upon her sleeping face. Who was this girl?

  What he had just witnessed had been nothing short of amazing. He got chills as he thought about the woman from the cave -- those green eyes, so malevolent and hateful. She seemed to be a creature of pure darkness. Everything about her had made him feel like he was looking at evil made flesh.

  And then, there was Maehril. A small, mute girl, who somehow seemed to emanate goodness and purity. That light that shone around her was like God’s light, he thought. Maybe this little girl is divine, a person with a greater purpose to serve God‘s will.

  The sun was still at its peak when he climbed back up to the deck. He pulled up the anchor and cast out the sails. His boat, the ‘Analie’, as he called it, glided smoothly along the calm tropical waters. Ezzerra would do them no good now, he thought. He needed to take Maehril to someone who could help her. Someone who could fix her if she didn’t wake up. Someone who might even know who or what she was.

  Years earlier, Cano had met a man who fit the right criteria. A wealthy nobleman he’d run into by chance when he’d gone ashore to trade some strange necklace he’d pulled from a shipwreck. The man seemed to know a lot about the world and its history. Maybe he would know how to help Maehril. It was the best idea he could come up with, so he pointed his boat northwest and trusted in God to get him there swiftly.

  Chapter Seven: Carleton

  Sim was as sore as he’d ever been in his life. It had been two days since he had left his comfortable life at the Kelmor Inn behind, and he had barely slept. Sleeping was difficult enough on the hard ground with a rough burlap blanket, no pillow and a sore back from a day's worth of riding across the plains, but the fresh memory of his parents' brutal murder made it nearly impossible.

  The first night he might have slept an hour. Most of the night he lay on his back watching the sky, remembering his childhood -- the good memories and the bad.

  The second night hadn’t been much better. Nightmares had plagued his dreams, forcing him to wake up over and over again. He wondered if he would ever be able to sleep peacefully again. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, he saw the Blood Lord’s sick red eyes burning with hate and murder. Sim was going to kill him. His need for revenge drove him to move forward, stumbling headlong toward an uncertain future. Nothing was going to stop him.

  They decided after the first night to find the road and follow it to Carleton. Carleton was a resort city on the eastern shores of Caramour; a place where the richest people in the world went to vacation and relax. Sim had never been to Carleton, but he had heard plenty of stories. The huge resorts that dotted the coastline specialized in pampering their guests, offering anything they needed. Cuisine, sport, entertainment, everything was available for those that could afford it. In Carleton, they could find a ship to take them away from the island, and into a world Sim had only ever dreamed of seeing.

  Givara rode out ahead as always. Sim was mystified by her. It had been jarring to learn that he was in the presence of a childhood fairy tale character come to life, and he still hadn’t given up his skepticism. He couldn’t help but watch her, if for no other reason than to give his mind something other than his parents to think about. She had been a queen, a legendary warrior, and Sim had to admit that she had a royal presence about her. She rode very erect with her head held high, commanding her mount with no effort at all. He wanted to talk to her, to question her, but she avoided him, talking only to Enaya in whispered tones. Maybe she would become comfortable with him eventually and let him in on their discussions. It was a small hope.

  Enaya rode with Sim, leading her mount along the opposite edge of the road, giving him space, but not much. He could feel her looking at him. Over the last two days of travel, he could always feel her eyes, full of sympathy and pity, watching his every move.

  When she entered the Kelmor Inn only three nights earlier, Sim had been thunderstruck. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Her intense sapphire eyes and golden tresses had made his head swim, caused him to stumble over his words and act like a fool. He could remember thinking to himself that night that he would do anything to be with her. Now it was gone. He felt nothing for her now but anger and regret. It was completely irrational, he knew that it was, yet Sim couldn’t help but blame her for what had happened to his parents. Enaya had brought the Blood Lord to Caramour. Enaya had led that monster to the Kelmor Inn. Enaya had prevented him from saving his parents. Now Sevin, Bella, and Sarimus were dead, and it was Enaya’s fault. He didn’t want her sympathy. He didn’t need it. He would use her as he was certain she was using him. She believed that he was the center of a prophecy, and that he was going to save the entire world from some ageless tyrant. Sim knew it
was the only way she would ever see him; not as a human being with feelings and emotions, but as a weapon that she could wield to fulfill her own desires. Sim did not deny that he was naïve and simple, but Enaya would find herself sorely mistaken if she truly believed him a foolish puppet tied to her strings. He would follow her because he knew that she would lead him back to the Blood Lord. He would use her to earn his revenge.

  “Are you alright, Sim?” she suddenly asked him.

  “I’m fine,” he answered through gritted teeth, seething inside at the pity he saw on her face.

  The road stretched out for miles over low hills and shallow valleys. The wheat grew thick on either side, covering the land for as far as the eye could see, with only the occasional break where a thicket of yucca trees stood guard around a pool of fresh water. The early afternoon sun burned brightly in the clear blue sky, but the heat wasn’t as bad as most days in Caramour. With the constant ocean breeze whipping across the plains, the temperature was almost cool, a wonderful rarity to be appreciated while it lasted. Most days, Sim would have saturated his white, half-sleeve shirt with sweat by mid-morning. It was a welcome relief.

  Never having traveled across the island, they weren’t sure how long it would take to reach Carleton. Sim had heard from secondhand sources that it was about two to three days ride from Dell. They all expected to see Carleton looming in the distance at any moment. The air had the smell of the sea, so they knew they were close. Then, after cresting a low rising hill, it appeared at last.