“Not even a hint of its existence,” Aiden muttered, “and we even got confirmation from the original owner of Feybourne’s tower, too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she sighed. “We have both failed to deliver that which was needed, and I dread informing the duke. Still, I see Ronan is alive — after a fashion — but where are the others?”
“Sir William will be joining us here shortly, and Maggie stayed behind in Amalis to help the city recover from the attack.”
“An attack on the city? It seems we have much to catch up on,” Nellise said with a raised eyebrow as she gestured to the comfortable chairs. As they sat down, Sayana and Valennia entered the hallway, and Aiden gave them both a warm greeting.
Sayana’s hair was much shorter than it had been in times past, and her small, pointed ears stuck out for the entire world to see. Clearly, she had changed in only the past few weeks, all for the better. Aiden noted to himself that he no longer felt pain at the loss of their brief relationship, only relief and a measure of joy at seeing a good friend once more.
Nellise told Aiden of the obstacles she and the others had encountered at Stonegaard, and he was astonished to hear of their encounter with the dragon that had attacked Culdeny. When it came to light that Pacian had saved the survivors of that battle, Aiden bliked and stared at her in disbelief.
“Wait, he went with you?” Aiden asked incredulously.
“Yes, he journeyed to Stonegaard with us and I have to say, in spite of our reservations, his conduct was mostly excellent,” Nellise explained. “In fact, I wouldn’t be sitting here now if not for his courage.”
“Is he here?”
“He disappeared just after we arrived,” Sayana explained dryly. “We had to carry all of his gear with us as well. Except for Val, mind you.”
“If he wanted his equipment, he should have taken it with him,” the tall akoran woman explained. “I carry no man’s luggage.”
“So, was he a problem at all on your journey?” Aiden asked hesitantly. “Clearly he managed to do some good for a change.”
“His actions were exemplary,” Nellise said, “but he lost someone he’d grown fond of along the way. He’s taking it quite hard actually, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn Pacian has been at a tavern all night, drinking his troubles away.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Ronan mumbled from beneath his hood.
“Yes, and you are such an obvious example of the benefits right now,” Sayana shot back sarcastically.
“Hey, I’m a pillar of health and vitality,” the sailor muttered. “Just keep your voice down for a while.” They were interrupted by the arrival of Sir William, whom Nellise immediately went to. The two embraced like old friends, and sat apart from the rest to speak of private matters.
Aiden and Sayana continued their own talk about events in Stonegaard and Feybourne, the two of them trying to top one another’s tale with their own exploits. Ultimately, Aiden was astonished to hear of Sayana’s battle against clan MacAliese, and he knew then that her powers were continuing to grow.
“What is it?” she asked curiously, at which point Aiden realised he was staring at her.
“I’ve found out some interesting information about your heritage,” he explained delicately. “I’ll tell you about it later. This is hardly the time or the place.”
“As you wish,” she replied carefully, unsure what he was referring to. Aiden knew when he told her about the information in the Lexicon, he would have her undivided attention.
Presently, the doors to the royal court opened and a dozen well-dressed men — most likely nobles or affluent merchants — strode out, talking quietly amongst themselves. Castellan Hodges appeared behind the entourage, resplendent in his robes of state.
“You’ve all made it back,” he remarked in astonishment, glancing around at them with a growing smile on his face. “I am pleased to see you all again, and I do apologise for the delay. I’m sure you have a lot to discuss and I am eager to hear of your exploits, but we should wait until we’re in the presence of His Grace before going to the trouble to explain everything. Please, come this way.”
As they all stood and prepared to enter the court, the main doors opened and Pacian stumbled inside, appearing to be just as hungover as Ronan.
“I’m here, everything’s under control,” he blurted as everyone stared at his impromptu entry. “I got a little side-tracked, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you all head in; we’ll join you in a moment,” Aiden prompted the others, as the castellan raised a disapproving eyebrow at Pacian’s appearance. Aiden gestured for him to step to one side, away from prying ears. Despite his earlier concern, Aiden wasn’t at all intimidated at the dishevelled sight of his old friend.
“You look like hell, mate,” Aiden began sternly, noticing his unshaven cheeks and baggy eyes.
“I had a few drinks last night, that’s all,” Pacian replied with a shrug. “You got something more important to say?”
“Look, I know things have been rough between us recently, but I’m actually glad to see you’re in one piece,” Aiden replied diplomatically. “Nel told me what you did at Stonegaard and I’m bloody impressed. I’d be even more impressed if we hadn’t encountered a dragon of our own, mind you.”
“You too?” Pacian asked, looking up sharply. “The damn things are all over the place these days.”
“We can catch up on who was the better dragon-fighter later — I just wanted you to know that… damn this is hard. Look, I… missed you, and I regret saying the things I said. I was tired and hurt after that fight in the senate—”
“Save the speech,” Pacian interrupted him, taking a moment to compose himself. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while now too. It’s possible… that I may have been wrong to kill the senator.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Aiden replied warily, surprised at this admission of failure.
“Frankly, I could have used your help down in Stonegaard,” Pacian continued, becoming more emotional as he spoke. “I really messed up, Aiden, I messed up so badly I can’t even talk about it.”
“What happened?” Aiden asked, suddenly concerned for his friend. From what Nellise had told him, Pacian was some sort of hero, but something else had clearly happened to him.
“Are you deaf? I just can’t talk about it,” Pacian practically sobbed. “I was so tired, and I thought I knew what was going on… I got played, Aiden. I can’t figure out stuff like you can, and others paid the price for my arrogance. I might be a bit too quick to resort to the knife to solve problems, and it’s come back to haunt me now.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Aiden said in an effort to comfort him. The smell of strong drink was heavy on Pacian’s breath. “Sometimes it’s hard to think on the spot, Pace. I’m sure you did what you had to do, and the fact you and the others are still alive now says to me that you did alright.”
“You don’t understand, Aiden,” Pacian whispered in a broken voice. “I had to do things, terrible things to keep it all together, things I can never take back.”
“I really wish you’d tell me what happened,” Aiden muttered, glancing at the impatient castellan who stood at the doors nearby. “After this is over, we’re going to have a proper chat. You should come into the meeting, but just stay in the background and let us do the talking.”
“That’s fine by me,” Pacian nodded, wiping moisture from his eyes as he pulled himself together. “Don’t worry about ol’ Pacian, he’s always fine.”
“Okay, speaking about yourself in the third person has me really worried,” Aiden remarked dourly.
“I’ll manage,” Pacian whispered, leaving Aiden to ponder what on earth could have happened. They strode through the doorway leading into the royal court, with the castellan closing the great doors behind them. The rest of their companions were gathered around in the middle of the large room, speaking with Duke Charles Montague.
The elderly duke seemed to have aged even more since their last meeting only weeks ago, with his thinning hair pure white and his skin appearing waxy, yet he still carried himself with dignity and esteem as he noticed Aiden’s approach.
“Welcome back, my boy,” he said with a wan smile as he moved through the crowd to shake his hand. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I have been kept very busy of late. I… is that Mister Savidge I see there with you?”
“Yes,” Nellise chimed in, having anticipated a little friction at Pacian’s arrival. “He ended up providing invaluable assistance to us in Stonegaard, and although this doesn’t excuse his past behaviour, I’d like him to be present for this meeting.”
“As you wish, Miss Sannemann,” the duke agreed hesitantly. “Aiden, Sir William just informed me that your quest was unsuccessful.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t bring better news, Your Grace, Aiden apologised. “But you will be pleased to hear that Amalis is safe, and the Feybourne region has been secured.”
“Splendid work, old chap,” the duke replied, genuinely pleased at this news.
“Actually, you have Sir William to thank for that,” Aiden hinted, causing the old knight to become the centre of attention.
“A story for another time, perhaps,” he said modestly, smoothing his moustache. “I believe we have more pressing business to discuss.”
“Yes, we too were unable to recover the Sceptre of Oblivion,” Nellise chimed in. “After a number of… delays, we spoke to King Sulinus of Stonegaard who eventually reported that they had no knowledge of its whereabouts, or even whether it ever existed.”
“It was a remote chance, I grant you that,” Castellan Hodges sighed, briefly glancing at the duke. “I thank you all for this service to the Crown, but with our two most promising locations thoroughly scoured, I think we need to put to rest the possibility of recovering this relic.”
“I may be hungover, but I’m pretty sure there was a third place,” Pacian said.
“Yes… technically,” the duke replied delicately. “Some of you may recall there was the possibility the sceptre may have ended up on the Isle of the Dead, a day’s journey by sea to the west of Fairloch.” At the mention of this infamous place, Nellise and Sir William instantly became uncomfortable and shared a worried glance.
“I see the two of you remember that discussion,” the castellan noted. “It was a little over two hundred years ago that the fledgling Church of Aielund defeated the wild mage known as Aeldrith, who used his power to twist the laws of nature. Although he was defeated, he was not killed. He fled to the island to escape our wrath, where he was never seen or heard from again.”
“Although our nation has a long history of maritime excellence,” the duke added, “superstitious sailors have long refused to go near that benighted island, and tales abound of abominations and the souls of long dead sailors walking across its barren surface. According to the work, ‘Ancient Artefacts from Olde Tymes’”, it is possible Aeldrith had the sceptre with him when he fled and if so, it may well reside on the island still.”
“Okay, now I remember why we didn’t want to go there,” Aiden said dryly, “but if that’s the only choice left to us, then not going isn’t really a choice at all.”
“Most of what we have recounted to you is superstition and legend, Aiden, but even if it turns out the island is deserted, the waters surrounding it are plagued with shallow reefs and rocks,” the castellan explained. “Ships that stray too close are torn apart, their crews dashed to pieces upon the jagged rocks. I believe it is for these reasons sailors avoid the place at all cost, and for this reason alone I implore you to carefully consider the merits of travel to the isle.”
“We’ll have a tough time finding somebody crazy enough to sail us out there,” Ronan added. “The navy doesn’t permit our ships to go anywhere near it.”
“There is another factor I haven’t mentioned,” Castellan Hodges hedged awkwardly. “After our last meeting here a few weeks ago, I was torn between waiting for word back about your success, and advising His Grace to send someone on to the isle to investigate further without delay. Last week, Sir Godfrey took it upon himself to lead an expedition to the isle in search of any trace of the sceptre. He contracted a modest fishing boat to take him there, and neither he nor that ill-fated vessel have returned. I fear the worst.”
“I heard nothing about this from Sir Godfrey,” the duke protested. “Why am I learning about this just now?”
“He didn’t want to trouble you with unnecessary worry,” the castellan replied.
“Sir Godfrey is missing, and this is the first I hear of it?” Sir William bristled. He and Godfrey were old friends, even if they were a little estranged of late, and the old knight’s reaction was predictable. “We must go to the isle, if for no other reason than to rescue him!”
“If you are willing and able, then I must urge you to do precisely that,” the duke responded, “but the danger is far greater than that you have already faced, with little chance of success.”
“There is nothing on this earth I fear,” the old knight said with conviction. “I will go by myself if I must, but I will not leave Sir Godfrey to his fate. I have lost too many friends to sit idly by while another’s life hangs in the balance.”
“Although I hate to say it, we need to be sure that the Sceptre of Oblivion isn’t there,” Aiden reluctantly added. “It’s too important to ignore.”
“You know there’s going to be all sorts of horrors on that island, right?” Pacian mentioned with resignation in his voice. “Even if we manage to get there, we’ll probably find Aeldrith still hanging around, ready to peel our faces off.”
“He’d be long dead by now, surely,” Nellise remarked.
“The wizard who mastered death? Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t have figured out how to prolong his own life,” Ronan drawled.
“Two centuries is a long time, even for a master of the black arts,” Sayana added. “Power does not last forever.”
“Be that as it may,” the duke said after clearing his throat, “there is the small matter of finding passage. The Redoubtable is still in the harbour, and I hear that Captain Sir Denholm Sherrard is having difficulty meeting his crew requirements. Tell him of your mission, and that you have my consent to travel to the Isle. I must continue with pressing matters elsewhere, so I will wish you good fortune on your perilous journey.”
“Thank you for your time, Your Grace,” Nellise replied with a curtsy. “God willing, we shall return in a few days with the sceptre.” As Aiden’s companions began to file out of the royal court, he pulled the castellan aside.
“I was wondering how the princess was doing?” Aiden asked.
“She is in good health, and asks about your work on a daily basis,” he replied with a knowing smile. “I shall inform her that you asked of her, which will bring a smile to her face, I’m sure. She has been doing whatever she can to ease the duke’s burden, as His Grace is not a young man, as you may have noticed.”
“Of course,” Aiden replied. “Just tell her I said hello, and with luck, we’ll be back soon.”
“I shall convey your greetings when I see her next,” Malcolm assured him. “Goodbye, Mister Wainwright.” Aiden turned and walked quickly to catch up with the others, somewhat crestfallen that he wasn’t able to see the courageous young woman who was in his thoughts more and more of late.
* * *
A strong, cold wind greeted them as they left the castle and continued down the main street of Fairloch. As they travelled to the docks, Aiden and his friends exchanged stories about their recent experiences. Valennia eagerly explained her many battles, startling passers-by with her detailed account, complete with shouted war-cries.
The city was especially busy that day, with the citizens making full use of the fair weather to accomplish their daily tasks. By the time Aiden and his companions reached the docklands, the streets were packed tight with all manner of people. The sea air was cris
p and salty, almost covering the stench of dead fish and sweat that lingered throughout Fairloch’s streets.
Soon, Aiden could see the harbour stretching out before them, where ships and boats of all sizes were crammed alongside every spare jetty, as merchants unloaded their precious cargo. Out beyond the forest of masts, Aiden spied the familiar sight of the Redoubtable, anchored out in deeper water.
“There she is, and looking a damn sight better than the last time I laid eyes on her,” Ronan remarked, gazing out at the carrack.
“Do you think the captain will be on board, or can we find him around the docks?” Aiden asked.
“Let’s go find out,” the sailor answered, heading off down a long pier that Aiden recognised as the navy’s own. It wasn’t as cluttered with ships or boats as the civilian jetties, and the royal marines on guard there, resplendent in their red and white uniforms, kept the place secure from unwanted visitors.
Ronan didn’t have any trouble securing passage past the guards, who seemed pleased to see him. The retired thief handed over a small package to one marine, who quickly tucked it into his tunic.
“Friend of yours?” Nellise asked as they walked past.
“I may have provided refreshments that made their night watches a little more bearable,” Ronan hinted. “We’ll find the captain in the naval office just ahead.” The sailor led them further along the pier to where a modestly sized building overlooked the harbour, its wooden walls encrusted with salt from years of exposure to the sea. Ronan worked his magic on the two marines guarding the building, and within moments, Aiden and the others were inside.
To describe the interior as “austere” would be an understatement — aside from one painting of a ship hanging above the fireplace, the naval office was lined with the same wooden planks that struggled to keep the cold wind at bay. Half a dozen desks lined the walls, each with an officer of middling years scribbling away on parchment. The sight of all six men glancing up at the same time to see who had entered was almost comical.
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