by Aaron Hodges
Kellian and Devon moved off without another word. Ahead the gates stood open, the heavy wood reinforced by steel. Engraved into the metal were the faces of animals—dragons and felines, raptors and great lizards—beasts of old which had fought alongside the forces of Archon. All long dead now.
As they stepped into the cold beneath the wall, the shouts behind them rose to a roar, and Devon looked back in time to see Anthony and his friends charging towards the gates. A smile crossed his face as the guards stepped across their path, spears extended. Their pursuers faltered mid-charge, the elation falling from their faces as the captain barked orders. Normally the royal guard out-ranked those in the city watch, but the Tsar allowed no exception at the city gates. All citizens coming and going from the city had to be registered. Unless of course, you paid the right fee.
Shaking his head, Devon strode down the tunnel after Kellian. With luck, the guards would delay their pursuers long enough for them to find passage across the lake. Beyond the walls, they moved quickly to the stairwell and started down. Five hundred steps were carved from the cliff-face itself, the stone worn smooth by the passage of centuries. Devon took them two at a time, his eyes on the ships waiting below. Ideally, there would be a ship heading for the northern or eastern shores, but with their pursuers not far behind, Devon would settle for the first ship leaving port.
At the bottom of the cliff, Devon took the lead, moving quickly out onto the docks. His eyes scanned the vessels gathered nearby, searching for one looking ready to disembark. A commotion near the end of the wharf drew his attention, and his eyes widened as he saw the blonde woman from the night before arguing with a black-bearded sailor. A tall young boy stood beside her, his dark hair glinting in the sunlight as he watched the woman facing off against the larger man.
“We only want passage to the shore!” the woman’s voice carried across to them.
The man, who Devon guessed was the captain of the ship behind them, shook his head. “Only room for folk going all the way to Lon. Can’t be wasting space for such a piddling fee.”
“But you’re leaving now!” the woman growled.
The captain shrugged. His eyes found Devon and Kellian standing nearby. A smile appeared on his face as he waved them over. “How about you, lads? Fancy booking passage to Lon?”
“Depends how much you’re asking?” Kellian asked, moving quickly down the wharf to join them.
Beside the captain, the woman’s grey eyes widened as she looked up and saw Devon standing there. Her surprise was quickly replaced by anger, though. Her face hardened as she stepped between the captain and Kellian, drawing the sailor’s attention back to her.
“We were here first,” she hissed.
“Ay, but you can’t pay,” the captain shot back, “and the price is five in gold, my good man.”
Devon’s stomach twisted as he thought of how much he was costing his friend, but Kellian was already shaking his head. “Then I’m afraid we cannot pay, either. But did I hear it right, you’re about to depart?”
The captain’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded. “Ay, as soon as someone fills my last beds for Lon,” he said, turning away.
“We’ll pay twice the usual ten shillings for you to drop us at the Scarlet Feline,” Kellian interrupted, “but only if you cast off now.”
Pausing mid-stride, the captain looked back at them. “In a hurry, are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “The price is thirty, then.”
Beside them, the woman’s grey eyes flashed with silent rage. They settled on Devon, and fists clenched, she stepped towards him. Sunlight flashed from the sabre strapped to her waist. “My brother and I need to be on this ship.”
Devon shrugged. “So do we.”
“Wait your turn,” she said.
“Sorry, princess,” Devon replied with a grin. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sometimes life’s not fair.”
She made to reach for her sabre, but the boy beside her gripped her arm and tugged her back. “Alana, don’t,” he said quietly. “Let me try.”
“No!” Alana spun towards her brother, Devon forgotten, and gripped him by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t you dare!”
Shaking his head, Devon looked around and saw Kellian had finished negotiating with the captain. He stood beside the gangplank gesturing for Devon to join him. The hammerman moved forward, his eyes drifting over the waiting ship. Paint was flaking from the wooden hull, revealing rot beneath, and there were large patches covering the mainsail. Several men were moving about the ship, while a trapdoor led down to what he guessed were the cramped quarters below deck. A cabin perched precariously at the rear of the vessel, but he presumed it belonged to the captain. Scarlet letters had been painted across the railings, but he could no longer read what they said. Seeing the state of the vessel, Devon was suddenly glad they would only be spending a few hours onboard.
Before he could reach his friend, Alana stepped between them again. “I won’t let you leave without us.”
Devon laughed again, his voice booming out across the open water. He stood a head and shoulders taller than the young woman. Scratching his beard, he shook his head. “And how do you intend to stop me?”
Her eyes darkened. “You two were in an awful hurry to leave up there by the gates,” she said, her voice barely audible above the winter breeze. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with last night, would it?”
“What’s it to you, princess?” Devon growled.
She took a step closer to him, her grey eyes never leaving his face. “I bet the captain would like to know the kind of men he’s carrying. You think you have enough silver to be worth him making enemies of the royal guard?”
Devon stilled, his eyes flickering back to the winding staircase. A steady trickle of people moved calmly up and down the stone steps, but there was no sign of Anthony or his men. His heart thudded in his ears as he looked back at Alana and felt the first stirring of his anger.
“Get out of my way, before I make you.”
Alana only raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flickered to the hilt of Devon’s hammer, then back to his face. “That’s a nice hammer,” she said, her voice rich with laughter. “Care to give me a closer look?”
A strained silence stretched out over the dock. Devon’s hand twitched, but he made no move to unsheathe his weapon. His body shook with rage as he stepped forward to tower over her. “Step aside,” he hissed, “or I’ll feed you to the fish.”
“Try me,” she growled, unflinching.
“Fine.”
Devon’s hand shot forward to grab her arm, but Alana was faster still. She twisted sideways, and he found only empty air. Before Devon could recover, her fist shot out and slammed into his ribcage. Pain jarred in his chest and gasping, he reared back.
A red haze filled Devon’s vision as he roared. Fists clenched, he hurled another punch. This time Alana stood her ground, her arm swinging up to deflect the blow from her body. Even so, the power in Devon’s arm was enough to stagger her. Crying out, she retreated a step, and Devon moved in for the kill.
“Devon, enough!” He looked around as Kellian’s voice carried down to them. His friend stood at the railings of the ship, his face pale as he made rapid gestures towards the gangplank. Looking around, Devon glimpsed a flash of gold on the staircase. Cursing beneath his breath, he moved towards the gangplank.
Steel rasped on leather as Alana stepped into his path, sabre drawn. “Let’s wait around and see what they have to say, shall we?” she asked calmly.
Devon’s hand was halfway to the haft of his hammer before he caught himself. His fingers twitched. He could feel the ancient weapon calling to him, urging him to draw it forth. Heat washed across his face as he imagined smashing aside her fragile blade and crushing the life from her tiny body. His heart raced as he imagined the screams, the blood…
Shuddering, Devon violently shook his head. “What do you want?” he asked, looking down into her steely grey eyes.
“Passage to the shore
,” Alana said quickly. “For me and my brother.”
“Captain!” Devon yelled. The captain’s face appeared over the railings of the ship. “These two are coming, too. Kellian, pay the man.”
Ignoring the two interlopers, Devon strode past them and up the gangplank. He heard the thud of boots on wood behind him but did not glance back. His stomach still roiling with anger, he strode up onto the deck.
Kellian met him at the railing, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll bankrupt me by the end of this trip, you know.”
Not in the mood to explain, Devon shook his head and stomped past his friend. He heard the rustling of clothes as the two newcomers joined them on the vessel, but kept his gaze fixed on the lake. The sun had just passed its zenith. The winds were beginning to pick up, and far out on the lake he could see flecks of white as waves broke the surface. It would be a rough journey, and silently he hoped Alana suffered from seasickness. At least with the wind behind them, the crossing would only take a few hours.
Shouts came from the dock as the sailors set about casting them off. His stomach lurched as the ship began to pull away, the gentle waves close to the island lifting the ship beneath them. He let out a long sigh, relief rising to wash away his anger. Idly, his mind returned to the confrontation with Alana, and he suddenly wondered why the two were in such a hurry to leave Ardath.
“Men, pull anchor, let’s sail!” he heard the captain call from the helm.
The ship gave another lurch, and, looking back, Devon smiled as he saw the docks slowly drifting away. But as they began to turn in the water, a distant horn carried down from the clifftops. Still clenching the railing, Devon stared up at the stone walls of the city. The tiny figure stood there beneath a red flag, a trumpet held to his mouth. As Devon watched, another cry rang out across the water.
“Hold on, boys!” the captain shouted as the horn faded away. Shaking his head, he moved across the deck towards his passengers. “Sorry, folks, looks like we’re going to be a little while yet. They’re ordering all ships to remain in port.”
“We’ve already set sail,” Kellian replied smoothly. “Surely the order does not include us?”
Shrugging, the captain walked away. “Sorry lad, your silver’s not worth the risk. Can’t go defying the Tsar’s orders now, can we? I’m sure it won’t take long.”
Devon shared a glance with Kellian as a sailor leapt across the widening gap between the ship and the docks. They both knew who it was the guards were after. Above, the golden-helmed men were nearly halfway down the stairwell. There wasn’t much time before they reached the docks.
Silently, Kellian slid a hand into his coat. Devon knew he was checking the fastenings on his throwing knives. Closing his eyes, Devon felt the familiar yearning for combat roar in his mind, demanding he draw his hammer, unleash the beast. Fingers trembling, he reached up for the haft…
“Please, captain, I’m sure they don’t want us.”
Devon’s eyes snapped open as Alana’s voice carried across the deck. She stood beside the captain, her brother beside her, eyes wide, hands clenched into tiny balls.
Blinking, the captain shook his head, his brow knitting in confusion. “I…no, we have to wait,” he said finally.
“Please,” Alana persisted. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. Her brother shuffled closer, the wind swirling in his unkept black hair. “We’re in a hurry. Like they said, we’ve already left the dock.”
For a moment, it seemed the man would shout her down. Devon held his breath, waiting for the anger to flare in the man’s eyes. Instead, it faded, his shoulders slumping as he waved a hand.
“I guess you’re right. And I can’t go delaying an entire shipment for some bureaucratic nonsense.” Turning to the man on the dock, he waved him back to the ship. “Cast off!”
The sailor frowned, his eyes uncertain, but his hesitation vanished as the captain began bellowing orders. Long poles were extended as the man leapt back to the ship, shoving the shore away and turning to the northeast. Oars slid out from the space below the deck. As they dug down to strike the water, the ship surged forward. Overhead, wood creaked, though the mainsail remained furled.
Devon stood staring at Alana and her brother as they moved to the front of the ship, the relief on their faces palpable. Behind them, the docks shrank from view as they picked up speed. Men stood on the other ships staring after them, but no one tried to call them back. Beyond, Anthony and his friends had finally reached the bottom of the great stairwell. They raced out onto the wharf, arms waving, faces pale with exhaustion. Devon allowed himself a smile as their shouts carried out across the water, made unintelligible by distance.
“Well, she was worth the extra silver,” Kellian commented wryly as he re-joined Devon at the railings.
The smile fell from Devon’s face as he remembered his confrontation with Alana. His anger stirred, but he forced it away, turning his thoughts to the coming journey.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said quietly. “I hope that means you’ve still got a few shillings tucked up your sleeve. I have all of five left to my name.”
“Perfect.” Kellian slapped him on the back, his laughter whispering out across the lake. “You’ll be paying for our room at the Scarlet Feline tonight then. After that ordeal, I’m broke. At least until I can liquidate a few assets in Lon.”
Devon groaned, but Kellian was already moving away, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Chapter 8
It took Quinn four hours to track the lingering taint of magic north through the city. With a squadron of Stalkers at his back and his own magic at the ready, he didn’t doubt they would be able to match whoever was behind the outpouring of power; finding them was another matter. Unlike the young Magicker’s outburst a week before, this usage had been subtle. It tasted of the Earth, perhaps a healing conducted by some hidden priest.
Only as the day grew old did Quinn begin to suspect something more sinister might be at hand. When they reached the northern gates with still no hint of the Magicker’s location, he knew it was no Earth priest they were after. His heart sank as they moved through the gates, following the dwindling scent of power down the stone stairs to the docks.
There, finally, Quinn sensed they were close to the source. Ignoring the stares of sailors and merchants, they made their way through the docks. People and wares packed the heavy wooden planks, hindering their passage.
Quinn cursed aloud as a man staggered into him, shattering his concentration. Spinning on the man, his hand snaked out to catch him by the shirt. The sailor cried out as with a roar, Quinn sent him tumbling over the side. He struck the water with a splash and came up shouting.
Turning away, Quinn continued through the crowd. Now people quickly stepped aside, forming a path for the party of black-cloaked Stalkers. Keeping the smile from his face, Quinn turned his thoughts back to his renegade Magicker. Taking his own power firmly in hand, he used it to reach out from himself, to taste the last traces of magic.
“Here,” he said, coming to a sudden stop.
His men halted beside him, their eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd. But Quinn had eyes only for the open water. Beyond the docks, a dozen ships raced across the surface of the lake, their white sails billowing in the afternoon winds. Overhead, dark clouds were gathering, the beginnings of a storm forming over the city. The last traces of Earth magic were fading now, but they had erupted into life somewhere on this dock.
The Magicker had taken passage on a ship. Even now they were winging their way from Ardath, far across the waters, nearing the distant shores. From there, they could go anywhere, threaten any community in the Three Nations.
He swore again, and sensed his own magic rising in response. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his rage a moment’s consideration before turning his attention to other matters. He swung back to face his men. “They’ve taken a ship. Search the docks. Find out if anything unusual happened here four hours ago.”
With that, Quinn moved away, h
eading for the stairwell back to the city. All travellers in and out of Ardath were recorded by the city watch. Whoever had snuck out would have left a trace. He wondered idly if the occurrence was related to the disappearances at the citadel, but quickly dismissed it. It had been a month since the escape. He doubted they could have hidden in Ardath all this time without raising suspicions.
Shaking his head, he moved up the spiralling stairwell. He was puffing by the time he reached the gates, and in no mood for nonsense. The guards were speaking as he walked up, and he slowed to listen to the conversation.
“We ’ave to split it evenly,” the spearman standing nearest the gate was saying.
“I don’t have to do anything, Jasper.” The captain of the watch sat behind his desk, eying the two spearmen guarding the tunnel. “You have your gold libra, don’t get greedy now.”
Quinn emerged from the tunnel before the spearman had a chance to reply. The guards fell silent at his appearance, their eyes flickering nervously amongst themselves. Fixing an easy smile to his face, Quinn wandered across to where the captain sat behind his desk. The sun was hidden behind storm clouds now, and the space beneath the wall was cold. Placing his hands on the desk, Quinn leaned in close to the captain.
“Si- sir, how can I help you today?” the man managed to stutter.
Quinn answered with a cold smile. “Anything interesting happen here today, captain?” he asked quietly.
The colour drained from the man’s face. “No! No, sir!”
“Is that so?” He leaned forward so his face was just an inch from the captain’s. “Then why, pray, did I just hear you and your men talking about gold libra?”
A low moan came from the captain’s mouth as it opened and closed. Reaching down, Quinn grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the table. “If I find out you’ve aided a Magicker’s escape, captain…”
“Ma…Magicker?” The man blinked, then shook his head violently. “Ain’t been no Magickers here, I swear!”
