“Who’s he?”
“You would know him as Lord Vealora. Even after becoming spymaster I kept him active in the special units for a while. One of his missions near Etoc’s border had him finding an artifact described as cursed. It wasn’t until a true warrior like Clarence realized that the enchanted bow absorbed one’s prana, not cursed them. The average man could not handle losing so much prana, consequently becoming feeble and sick for a few moments. On learning that the bow was none other than the Soul Stealer, he decided to gift me a weapon worthy of a king.”
“How was your friend holding up when you last saw him?”
A sigh removed half his weight until he inhaled again. “I wish I could have brought him with us, to take him away from all those eyes of suspicion and disappointment, but I fear those eyes would only follow him here as well. In any event, he has his son and the future of his family to think about. He can’t very well leave his only child when his mother is missing and accused of betraying Alslana. I do not envy being in either man’s position.”
“And what do we do if we find Lady Vealora among the Advent?”
“I’d rather take her alive. Then I can use my charm to force everything she knows about her cult. Yet I have no qualms about you or anyone else running a sword through her if she dares resist us with anything more than a spoon.”
“Good to know.”
I headed below deck to check on Clarissa. Being reminded that you never knew what someone was up to obliged me to make sure no one treated her in the same way we had dealt with recent monsters.
Three nights after the harpy attack and a dotting of lights became visible to the northeast. Many were high up on a cliff, but the brightest came from two large lighthouses bookending the crescent-shaped harbor. Runes and lanterns also outlined several ships as they too entered the harbor late. Since there wasn’t going to be much in the way of trading, our ships did not seek to dock right by the shore. They instead anchored in shallow water and let their passengers seek land on the smaller and quicker boats.
The break from the sea was difficult on my sense of balance for the first couple of hours. My legs wanted to shift my body weight as it had learned to do so while on the fluctuating ship, but an island of stone did not bob and roll with the waves. This effect left me to experience the world as a drunkard’s legs did. This part of Orda did not appear to have a building taller than three stories. Most were stout, wide structures of dense wood or gray stone so they could better handle the relentless winds that bent every blade of grass throughout the seasons. It must have been a mild winter so far, for no white powder could be seen anywhere.
After asking a dock worker, my wobbly legs took me to more water—a steaming pond of it that did much to purge the grime caked to every crevice in my body. There had been some hygiene practice on board, but the colder the weather got, the less inclined we were to take wet sponges to our body. So the last few weeks of travel had allowed a solid layer of dried sweat and oils to fill wrinkles and dimples.
I was not the only one with the desire to wash out these places in the springs. Though I went to the manmade springs at the center of town alone, I met familiar faces on the way there and after I arrived. Based on the scant conversation happening between them, I could guess that, in essence, they all went alone. Weeks and weeks of seeing and talking to the same people had eroded their longing to pursue yet more contact with their comrades, especially knowing more of those weeks were yet to come. They just wanted to be with new faces and voices for a while before they had to enter the same painting again.
Since the figures on the canvas were still pretty much strangers to me, my reasons for being standoffish were twofold—keeping my fiend’s tail hidden under the bubbling water and my fondness for inwardness.
The broiling hot spring might not have been the heat regulated pool below the Diamond Palace, but its rejuvenating effect on my body was nevertheless comparable. If it wasn’t for overhearing the scholar’s exposition on the possible diseases one could procure in one bad night, then I almost felt good enough to join a few of the refreshed sailors in their quest to find a lady of low repute. In lieu of risking an itchy red dick for the rest of my life, I chose to walk off my rubber legs for the rest of the night.
Gods, I didn’t think I would miss the simple act of walking so much. Sure I moved around a lot on the ship, but I couldn’t go far without something or someone interrupting my stroll. Now a tempest wouldn’t stop my jaunt. The night was clear, the half-moon bright, and the cobble streets quiet. The city of Enstad pushed inland for quite a ways, with many of its homes given their own space for little gardens. Only when the rocky land got too steep to fit a foundation did Enstad end. The paths that headed out of the city spread out into the higher grasslands and led into distant village clusters. I steered away from civilization and walked on a less worn path up toward the cliffs.
The climb to reach the edge of the cliff facing north of Enstad was worth the cold and expended energy. A dipping moonlight, the flickering city torches, and flecked ship lanterns made for one of the most picturesque visions I had ever laid eyes on. The thickest of the darkness was well on its way to making room for dawn’s encroachment, with the earliest glimmers appearing minutes after I sat down near the brink of a four hundred foot fall into the sea. These waters remained the Parsillion as long as I stayed within the archipelago. Otherwise, most cartographers labeled the waters east of the islands the Trel Mar Expanse, which translated from the Quadun tongue to mean something about icebergs.
No drifting ice mountains made themselves known in the brightening sky, but two patrolling guardsmen wearing heavy blue cloaks trotted by me on their big brown horses. They paid me no mind, so I returned the favor. When my butter stick legs threatened to harden into icicles, I decided it was time to head back into town.
After following the cliff edge for half a mile, the guardsmen came back into view. Their horses were circling a pair of bundled up individuals. I was going to avoid them, but I heard a girl crying between the hard gusts. It was an odd sort of cry, as though it were mixed with a confused laugh. Real laughs came from the guardsmen. Once a short argument in my head ended, with the winner sounding very much like Clarissa’s voice, I mumbled a weak curse and used the fastest walk possible to close the distance.
The unsaddled pair looked to be regular villagers. The pale young man was rolled in a thick coarse coat of light brown while the young woman had on a nicer blue cloak similar to those worn by the guards. A few steps closer and I saw that the woman’s face bore a confused state of expressions. Like the cry I heard, her half smiling mouth wanted to laugh with the guards while her downcast eyes seemed terrified of them. The wind made it difficult to pick up much of their dialogue. I could, only pick up snippets from the loud patrolmen such as, “…hog her cunt for yourself!” and “She needs to feel a real cock before…”
When the leanest and beardiest of the guards spotted me, he said, “Ye intrude on a private affair. Flee, boy!”
“Or we have ye arrested!” said the other, his tone half serious and half in jest. This guard’s shorter, cleaner beard was a brownish red color.
“Forgive me,” I said without a trace of repentance, “I merely saw two guardsmen galloping around what must be two of the most dangerous criminals in the land if they require this much attention from such fine warriors. Do you need aid in their capture? Or do I go out now and tell all who will listen of your heroic deed?”
“I believe he’s mocking us!” said the brown bearded one.
“I believe you’re right, Roy. Outsiders should know better. Many find themselves in our fine prisons for lesser insults to men of order.”
“And I desire this fine morning to be free of anymore insults, for all of us.” I made a point to gaze at those on ground level with my last words. The girl no longer had such a scrambled face, though her features still appeared a little off. She had a small underbite and her eyes were a tad too close together. Her companion held
her tight, his wide eyes and slacked jaw waiting to react to whatever circumstance hit him next. “So, gentleman, is your fun here really that important to you?”
“I say our fun is not your concern, outsider,” said the one called Roy. “Now, last chance, leave us, outsider.”
“I see no words of mine will reach you. Then will the sound of two clinking silver standards attract your ear? I have one for each of you if you simply return to your duty.”
“A silver standard for us each, eh? Such coin for a boy is rare, and to hand it so flippantly suggests you have more! Now how did that happen? A young highwayman in the making, perhaps?”
“Sounds like we should take him in,” said the other, getting his horse behind me. “And look! I see the end of a sword under his cloak. Steal that, too?”
“Do you want it?” I asked. “I’ll give it up without any trouble if you leave afterward.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Roy. “Quite a lot of effort you’re putting up for these two. Know this outsider, Luther?”
“No,” answered the young man. The girl shook her head and mouthed the same word to herself.
“Fine, boy, you win. Give us the coin and sword and we’ll be on our merry way.”
I plucked two loose silvers in my trouser pocket and flipped one at each guard. Roy put his horse closer so that he may take the scabbard I untied from my belt. His hand grasped the sword’s hilt with no thought of the repercussions. The instant after gaining a grip he shouted as though he had been stung by a wasp. I let the sword drop to the ground.
“Roy! What happened? What’s wrong?”
“What trick is this, boy?! Fiend magic!”
“No trick, guardsman. Only warriors of valor, righteousness, and their synonyms can wield my blade. Go ahead, partner of Roy, you try picking up the sword.”
It was not his partner but Roy who responded by hopping off his horse and attempt to pick up Aranath again. He even took off his black glove this time. Despite gritting his teeth and bracing his entire being, his fingers could not touch the scabbard long enough to leave a fingerprint.
“Ahh! Impossible! What kind of power is this? It burns to my bones, yet no mark is left.”
“I want to try!” said the partner.
I could tell at this point that both guards had forgotten about the harassed couple. With a nod to Luther, the still agape fellow steered his cohort away from us.
It was odd to see the two previously contemptible temperaments of the guardsmen turn to a childlike wonder at my sword’s ability to repel not only their bodies, but the earthen spell they tried using as a substitute. The tendrils of dirt would shake themselves apart before gaining a strong hold.
I answered a few of their questions, such as telling them I was part of an Alslana team sailing for Uthosis. They acted as though that was all I had to say to get them to listen to me earlier. If I accomplished anything, it was the leaving the impression that Alslana soldiers were no trifling threat if a young lad like myself had been trusted with enchanted weapons. We parted ways in what I suppose were good terms.
“I don’t enjoy having to send that much prana through the sword,” said Aranath.
“I do. Besides, how often do you get the chance to flex your power?”
“I would rather flex wings and flame.”
“Ah, stop complaining. It’s not becoming of a dragon.”
Agreeing with me, the disgruntled Aranath did not so much as respond with a grumble.
Not long after their horses became the size of mice, another animal popped into view. The elongated cat-like silhouette of Kara had been hiding within a tall patch of grass only ten yards behind me, her golden orbs watching me like a concerned parent. Forty yards behind Kara was the outline of her summoner jogging toward me.
On reaching earshot, Lucetta asked, “What was that all about? Kara was ready to sink her adorable teeth into those not so adorable guys.”
“Would you still be watching over me if I entered a whorehouse?”
“Aye. Why do you think Lorcan always gets one of us to back you up? A father likes to know his son beds plenty of women, but catching a glimpse of the act is not a goal. Who were the people you helped?”
“Don’t know.”
“Let’s find out!”
She and Kara sprinted off to the pair still visible by the cliff’s brink. I followed after them with my usual apathy. The duo were apprehensive at first, reacting to the piratess with the same ebbing step they gave Kara. However, by the time I joined them, Luther had warmed up to Lucetta and the girl was on her knees petting the long back of the otherworldly creature with an off-kilter gaze.
Luther bowed his head on seeing me. “Thank you for your intervention, Master Eberwolf, but it was unnecessary. I know those men. They enjoy teasing my sister with what would be vile aphorisms for most women, but Miawen does not understand their unkindness. To them it’s like taking a wooden sword to an old oak. They know her mind does not… it is not entirely fit.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” said Lucetta.
“No need for apologies, Lady Ambrose. Her cleansing will come soon. I only wish to give her daily fill of the sea. She becomes a little rowdy if she does not see her ships by midday.”
“Then we’ll leave you to it. Goodbye, Miawen!”
The girl, looking down the whole time, mouthed her farewell.
Walking away from the pair, I asked, “What did he mean by ‘her cleansing’?”
“Haven’t heard of the Reborn? The Delivered? They go by different names depending on the area. Mostly it happens to crazy criminals sentenced to death, but the, um, infirm sometimes go through it, too. The basic idea is using mind runes to wipe away emotion and human cravings, which usually means memories go bye-bye, too.”
“Then what?”
A shrug. “Depends. Sometimes they’re sold to academies or court sorcerers to become the perfect assistants. More extreme cases have them being used as uncomplaining subjects in experiments. You have some experience on that front.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it was an official thing.”
“Sure it is. Ask Eudon and he’ll confirm that his court advisors have a few Delivered working for them. It makes sense, I suppose. Why let insane people go to waste when they can do good elsewhere?”
“I bet ‘good’ is subjective, and Miawen didn’t look insane to me.”
“Islander standards for insanity are pretty low. Outsiders are already halfway there in their eyes. Anyway, we don’t know Miawen’s exact condition. Maybe she hurts herself, or little children and animals when she gets the chance. Unless you can figure out better ways to help people like her, then it’s something we shouldn’t dwell on. We have enough gloomy problems to ruin our nights, no?”
“‘Dwell’ is a strong word. It’s just something I didn’t know people did.”
“No one’s exactly overjoyed when a cleansing happens, which explains why you never overheard anyone talking about it. Frankly, I never thought much about them myself. Most people like Miawen don’t even live long enough for cleansings to be an option… Say, do you want to get something to eat?”
“…Sure.”
Chapter Five
The rest of my time on Kylock Clay was spent rock hunting on the cliffs. I must have looked deranged to those who spotted me hunching every time I wanted a pretty stone, tossing away the ones that did not make the cut into the sea. Aside from finding the motionless prey, and notwithstanding what happened on my first morning, the cliffs remained the best place to avoid people and their complications. Only when no one was around did I burn away the rocks with dragon fire.
Everyone on land met at the same pier we had been dropped off two days prior, having until noon before the boats were called back and is parent ships raised their anchors. The skies had become gray and weepy, but it stayed a quiet sobbing that did little to deter smooth sailing, and we needed all the smoothness we could get. Many rock-strewn hazards within the archipelago had sunk hundreds of shi
ps steered by the most cautious of sailors under the finest of weather.
Phlox’s sleek frame made her the faster and more maneuverable of the four ships, but making her the frontrunner in unacquainted waters was seen as too risky. The slower but hardier Lenox was thus charged with leading our procession. Good thing, too. Lenox’s hull suffered a crack when she bumped the corner of an unmapped (or poorly mapped) reef a day after restarting our journey. Two days later and the other side of her hull took a beating from a bigger reef of rock, creating a small breach. The Sycamore therefore took the lead as her sister ship made repairs. Thanks to casters and onboard materials, the nominal rupture did not demand a stop at a dock and only required a few hours to be patched up.
I bet any passing islanders laughed their damn arses off. That plausible fact irked me more than it should have. I attributed my oversensitive disposition to how slow the ships moved while navigating the crowded island chain. It took a full five days before the captains allowed their vessels to speed up to their full potential. The constant winter winds aided to their endeavor nicely. They made the waves choppy and storms sterner, but these inconveniences were a welcome tradeoff for the sake of swiftness.
Along with the more demanding weather, training took on even greater prominence than before. The impending meeting with Advent cultists motivated us, I’m sure, but I was also certain the raw air had something to do with it. More than it feeling good to limber up rigid muscles with passionate practice, our dulled bodies could take harder hits with lesser pain, at least until we woke up.
Eudon regarded our sparring sessions with grave seriousness, not giving me an inch. He also never gave me advice, not that I lasted long enough to encourage it. I might as well have been a random ruffian he met on the street, so why offer instruction to someone who didn’t show they deserved it?
I did get some words from him when I asked, “Do you spar with all your daughters like this?” I handed my splintered practice sword to a deckhand.
Flight of the Dragon Knight Page 5
